PAULA WHYMAN

It feels like I'm blogging from under water today, preparing for some big-time family events. But while that's going on, I want to make sure people know about this don't-miss event in the literary realm:

Novelist Keith Donohue will read from his new book, Centuries of June, at Barnes & Noble, Bethesda, on (appropriately!) Wednesday, June 8 at 7pm.

I'm really excited about this book. It sounds both completely absorbing and innovative in its structure--and I say that almost hesitantly because I don't want to put people off (eww, innovative structure!)... But I like it when novelists play around with structure without sacrificing compelling characters and real human stories. This is not experimenting just for the sake of it. The descriptions I've read make me think of something David Mitchell might try. (And I love David Mitchell's work.) In fact, Library Journal mentions Mitchell in their *stellar* review, which describes Donohue's book as a "tour-de-force."

Centuries of June is a black comedy in which a man attempts to tell the story of how he ended up on the floor of his bathroom with a hole in his head. But he's repeatedly interrupted by a series of suspects—eight women lying in the bedroom just down the hall. Each woman tells a story drawn from five centuries of American myth and legend in a range of styles and voices.

Buffalo News says Centuries of June is "sly, surprising and entertaining...offers a reader both post- and premodern treats." It echoes "everything from the Marx Brothers to Dickens," and more.

When it comes to drinks, most of us know our limit. Well, some of us do. But what about spouses? How many is too many? Amy Stolls' new novel explores the question, Can one 30-something single female folklorist find true happiness with a charming Irish musician whose charms have already been tested by 8 past wives? Yes, I said "wives," not "lives"...! When Bess falls for Rory, before she'll commit to being Love Potion No. 9, she wants to know more about the guy's baggage. She goes on a trip to try and meet every woman who was once married to him. If it's not apparent from the description, this is a funny funny book. And Amy is a funny person. Full disclosure, I went to grad school with Amy, and we are now in the same writing group, so I had the privilege of reading this before all of you. But you don't have to believe me about it; in the Washington Post, reviewer Sarah Pekkanen said "readers will pull for [Rory and Bess], knowing the odds may be against them."

I recommend you check out Amy's entertaining new website as well, where you'll find her witty Facebook feed: "I just got the bound galleys of my novel...Did I mention it’s an action-packed thriller about a Swedish girl with a tattoo who falls in love with a vampire while eating, praying, and loving? I hope it’s a hit."

You can also respond to Amy's survey that asks whether you'd marry someone who has been married eight times before. I said no, to me that sounds like a bad risk in "real" life. However, I could see the benefits of taking eight husbands, simultaneously. That could be very practical, if certain criteria are met. One must be a good cook, another must be willing to clean up. One can drive the carpools. Another can walk the dogs now and then. One can read poetry to me, and another one can critique my work without taking it personally. Oh, and one must be able to give a good back massage. I'm sure it would be a busy household, but on any given night, there will be at least one who isn't too tired... And if they all leave the seat up? Fine with me. With eight men in the house, I plan to have my own bathroom.

Also on Amy's site, check out the page called Other Writings, where you'll find the hilarious "no-birth" announcement she sent out to friends when she was expecting her first child. Here's an excerpt:

December 14, 2008, 2:40 pm – Two days past her due date, local pregnant woman Amy Stolls sent a “no baby” email announcement to close friends and family members that began: “Dear loved ones, please welcome to the world our little bundle of diddley squat.” The announcement, with the subject line “Stop calling already, I got nothin’,” went on to provide an imagined weight still in utero of – by now — 26.8 pounds, adding, “we look forward to introducing this kid to you one of these freakin’ days.”

“He’s late, just like my wife is always late,” said the daddy-to-be. “My time is valuable too, you know. He better have a damn good excuse.” Friend and colleague Horatio Bibifol commented that he’d never seen a belly get so large, suggesting to his astronomer colleagues that it be reintroduced as the ninth planet to replace the embarrassing downgrading of Pluto.