Jesse’s Neighborhood

Beautiful. You MUST READ this book.

When I picked up "Belong to Me" when it was still a fresh new hardbound months ago, at a local Borders, I read the side flaps and then nervously put it aside. See, I didn't want to ruin the perfection that was Marisa de los Santos's first novel (entitled "Love Walked In," if you must know). "Love Walked In" had been a treasure of a book, the kind you somehow want to hold next to your heart where it will keep you warm and precious and delicate.

The description of "Belong to Me," with the same lovely characters--only this time married and displaced to the suburbs simply did not seem to be up to par with its predecessor.

Months later, however, I grew desperate for a good read and finally caved. And boy oh boy am I glad I did.

The appeal of "Belong to Me" is the way it is written. de los Santos has a writing style that is fluid, beautiful, magical. Add to that a knack for creating characters that are unique, lovable, precious, and intelligent, and you have a story that you want to immerse yourself in, that you want to become.

"Belong to Me" is the kind of book that inspires you to live a better life without once preaching or proselytizing.

I didn't expect much from this one, but I was pleasantly surprised. The cover tricked me into thinking it was chick lit, but I learned afterwards that Clare Cross is also Claire Deveraux, historical romance novelist (whose books I never really cared for).

The biggest appeal of this book is that the characters are real. While their circumstances are the stuff of drama--she is in recovery from breast cancer, and he is the black sheep of a wealthy family (who doesn't love a rich hero?)--their psychological issues are deliciously relatable.

The plot isn't predictable, and it's an easy, light read after work. I liked it enough to look for her next book. If you're in the mood for a modern, realistic romance, I recommend this.

After strolling along University and checking virtually every single Italian restaurant in downtown (I even wove in and out of University cross streets), I settled on Bella Luna because of its reasonable prices and interesting menu. And, sad to say, I was rather disappointed.

Michael and I started off with carpaccio for an appetizer. It would have been excellent--the greens, the meat, and the capers were lovely, but the overpowering, spicy mustard was not. Their choice to drizzle mustard everywhere made it impossible for me to enjoy an appetizer that I appreciate because of its freshness. All I tasted was mustard.

Having found the appetizer somewhat off-putting, we decided to split on a main course instead of having one each. One of the day's specials was a seafood risotto. I hadn't had risotto in a while and thought it was a good pick...not. When the dish arrived, it lacked any form of presentation and came of looking plain. The shrimp on the risotto was juicy and excellent, but the risotto itself was bland. It looked about as good as it tasted; not horrible, but something that I could have made at home myself out of a box.

After that, I knew I needed tiramisu to perk me up, but I was a little scared to have it there. Still, I steeled my nerves and found myself asking our server for one order of the tiramisu. And finally...yum. That dessert saved my impression of Bella Luna. While I will not be going there for a meal any time soon (not while Palo Alto has so many other alternatives to offer), I may contemplate going back for the dessert.

Where have all the dramas gone?

Today, in need of a major stress reliever, I decided to drop by the neighborhood library and borrow pounds in books. Naturally, there were romance novels in the selection.

I picked up Candace Camp's "The Marriage Wager" with some optimism. Having never heard of Camp, I was nonetheless intrigued by the backflap description of her Regency romance.

It took me little over an hour to read the book once I got home, in part because I skimmed a chunk of it. The chunk that details exactly how the heroine (Constance) the hero (Dominic) fall in love.

Honestly, the name "Constance" should have given me a clue. The book was consistently boring. Oh, there was nothing technically wrong. The plot was interesting enough and carried enough complications (she's an aging--28 year old--spinster and he needs to marry for money), the characters were discreetly charming, but...and this is a big BUT...there was no drama. Camp's attempt to add something shocking when Dom's family attempts to frame Constance simply falls flat. No one falls for it. Where a Judith McNaught novel would have you fighting back horrified tears (no, he didn't just think that of her even though he loves her!) while a delicious thrill crept up your spine because you just KNOW there will be an amazing, heartstopping grand gesture of an apology to make up fr it later, Camp simply makes you think, "Oh," sigh, and move on.

Don't get me wrong, I am by no means disparaging the subtler forms of romance novels. Julia Quinn never resorts to high drama, her character are rarely ever dukes or absurdly wealthy, and she never has grand gestures. But romances of this type usually have a character psychology that backs them up.

Camp leaves a lot to be desired.