Notions of Identity

Stay by Allie Larkin: some of life's essential questions

2010-07-26T15:35:00.002-05:00

I was thrilled to recently attend the Chicago book tour/reading for Stay by Allie Larkin. Months ago I promised Allie, a writer I met through her blog a few years back, that I would host a blog tour for her here at Notions of Identity when her book was published. I then proceeded to become much too busy, and the review became a casualty of my crazy life. When I heard her publishers scheduled her for a Chicago tour, I excitedly (if a little sheepishly) made my way to Borders to meet her in person and plead forgiveness.

Allie was, of course, generous and forgiving. And funny! After meeting her in person, it isn’t difficult to believe she could create such authentic characters and humorous plots. She was also quite inspiring and is living proof that a long (5 years she worked on this book!!!!), hard, diligent writing process can pay off. She also loves German Shepherds – and I’m pretty sure I read somewhere on her blog she likes Barry Manilow – so I consider us practically separated-at-birth sisters (I mean, really – how many people like German Shepherds AND Barry Manilow?)! She is a wonderful, talented writer, and I so enjoyed listening to her read and meeting her in person.

As for the review, let’s be real (if admittedly pretentious): much “chick-lit” on the market today is terrible. The characters are often underdeveloped; the plot is either uninteresting or insanely far-fetched; and, the writers’ voice is weak. Left disappointed time and again, I’ve come close to turning away from the genre altogether. Until I read Stay that is.

On the surface, it would be easy to say Stay is a witty, heart-tugging story of Savannah “Van” Leone’s journey in healing from an unrequited love (for her best friend’s new husband) with the help of a drunken online purchase: a large Slovakian German Shepherd puppy she names “Joe”. While that statement would be true, the book is more multi-layered than a simple commercial romance novel typically promises. Stay is full of detail-rich writing, a vast array of authentic characters, and an intricate web of subplots that make it worthy of devouring in one sitting.

And I did devour it.

With the remnants of a recent heartbreak still swilling in my stomach, I commiserated with Van like a sister. She is my kind of protagonist after all: smart, loyal, and independent (and she has a filthy mouth, too!). Her escapades made me laugh; her misery made me cry; and, her underlying strength made me more resolute in mine. She asks – and ultimately answers – some of life’s most essential questions about love, friendship, and family - and although at times she is messy and less than graceful, her progress is real. As discerning readers, don’t we all appreciate reality? And secretly, a happy ending, too?

Here is Allie’s website for Stay. The picture of the adorable German Shepherd is her very own pup, Argo. Here is Allie's website, The Greenists, where I first "met" her. You'll enjoy both. I know I do.

sliding, part II

2010-07-22T11:17:00.000-05:00

Maybe, it isn't about the sliding after all. Or if it is, perhaps this ride is a spiral slide - the descent not nearly as swift but full of new angles, wonderful twists, and sweet discoveries all the same.

sliding

2010-07-14T12:56:00.001-05:00

I've started dating again. As I've been advised from a variety of people in my life, I'm seriously putting myself out there, making eye-contact, widening my narrow description of "suitable", and considering my options. And it's different. Not terrible, just different. Even if contrived, as the dating process often is, some of the time it is fun. Exchanging witty repartee with smart and attractive men doesn't suck (hell, realizing smart and attractive men even exist is almost worth it regardless of the outcome). Blushing at suggestive overtures, lovely compliments, and experiencing periodic zings and first kisses is entertaining - at times even giggle-inducing. Most days, I think I can do it, but other days it can be overly consuming and exhausting. And having to remind myself to tone down the intensity of my expectations seems counter-intuitive. I'm not completely convinced much has changed: casual dating was never innately natural for me before I met my ex-husband, and perhaps it never will be. Maybe I'm just not made that way.

I've also tried hard not to compare these men with the ones in my past for whom I've cared deeply. But that, too, takes effort. I find myself wondering all sorts of things: about timing's impact on their imprint in my heart, about truth, hope and about patience. Somewhere inside, I'm questioning if my response to a man is the same or similar as the one I had when I first touched or kissed the men I've loved before. And the truth - if I'm honest with myself -is that since my last relationship (or non-relationship as I'm fond of calling it), I've yet to feel it: that immediate sensation of sliding into a possibility with another person. That moment when you meet him and you just know you want him in your life - that you've come across something special, something rare. The steadfast knowledge in the deepest region of the heart that underneath the pain of timing or fate working against you, you are changed simply by knowing him. I've met nice men recently. I'm sure they are special in their own way, but I'm not sliding. No matter how much I want to, I'm not.

Time. In my head, I can hear the response of my friends: give it time. Be patient. You just started. Perhaps they are right. I can't help but think, though, that love isn't something one comes upon as part of a process. For me, I don't want it to grow from mutual "like" or bland contentment. Which means I'll need to embrace and accept the bone-deep loneliness of aloneness instead of seeking a way to muffle it. Or not. Ultimately, only I can determine if I'm willing to engage in situations without the sliding. Only I can decide if needing the sliding is unrealistic, and only I can wrestle with my expectations for finding it again.