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Starting today, The Good Son 
is part of the Barnes & Noble
Book Haul sale. 

Visit Barnes & Noble 
in-store or online to grab a copy for 50% off until September 5th.
TONIGHT at 5 p.m. ET!  Join myself and authors Colleen Kinder and Peter Orner for a Literary Cocktail Hour TONIGHT, hosted virtually as part of the Brattleboro Book Festival, for LETTER TO A STRANGER, the book where sixty-five extraordinary writers grapple with this mystery: How can an ephemeral encounter with a stranger leave such an eternal mark?

At this event, you'll learn how to write your own letter. Whether you are traveling or planning a staycation, it is the perfect activity for the end of summer. This virtual event is free and open to the public. Register here.

They are Pretty. And Ridiculous.


Okay. Let me say this. They are pretty.
They’re pretty. Okay? They are pretty.

Embroidered and studded and bejeweled corsets and “bralettes” and so forth, on trend with dressing as though your underwear were your outerwear, are pretty and alluring on women who have the figure to sport them – and even people who don’t.

I still think they are weird. Stick with me for the reason why. I once had a relationship-shattering dispute with a friend’s son about underwear. It was when Scott Brown, former US Senator from Massachusetts and lately ambassador to New Zealand, was first in the news – along with the revelation that the handsome young man had once been an underwear model. 

To this friend’s son, I said, “If he were a woman, he would be getting a lot of grief for that. There would be suggestions that he’s not a serious person." To which he replied, “You’re just jealous because nobody would ever want to see you in your underwear."

Well, no, I was not. I was just making a point about differential treatment. This was before Sarah Palin posed in her bikini with a big rifle, putting paid to all that stuff – in other words, a long time ago. But I still have a problem (several problems) with fashion stories that point out how “sexy corsets" and "bustiers" can be paired with a garment, such as jeans, that are not revealing  - and the juxtaposition really works well.

This may be true… but … why? I was reading about actor Olivia Wilde and others sporting long-form bras (bustiers) as clothing “tops,” and one of the things I noted with horror were the prices. Okay, granted: Hollywood stars don’t need to forego paying their electric bill in order to pay $900 to $6,200 for a scrap of beaded fabric. That said, so what if they can, should they?

I’m not one who necessarily looks down her nose at people who spend money on trifles: It’s their money. They don’t have to give it all to The World Wildlife Fund. But … that much for … that much? It sort of does seem immoral. But I’m just getting started.

The thing that really irks me is that these garments are only for women and they reinforce the idea that to look attractive, a woman has to look “sexy.” That is, her primary consideration in dressing up should be to pay attention to how she appears as an object of desire.

There is no equivalent for men. I’m not going to include the sort of new and quite outre example of celebrities such as Jared Leto and Vin Diesel wearing the equivalent of skirts. It’s not the same thing; it’s not pervasive. It’s not the same as appearing in a formal setting with much of your private anatomy showing.

Women could (and do) look pretty, well-groomed, elegant (choose your adjective) while wearing more … and costing less.

It’s a cultural tradition and it’s not going to end. That doesn’t make it less annoying.

HOT WRITING TIP

Fear not revision. Doing a revision well separates the women from the girls, the men from the boys, the sheep from the goats, the pro’s from the am’s.

One of the best parts of writing this newsletter is that I don’t have to work on the revisions to my next book, the prospect of which makes me cry. If you share this fear (and loathing), you have to get over it. Nobody does anything the absolutely correct way the first time (except for all my friends who only have to change “and” to “but” in a couple of sentences when they revise their manuscripts).

If you get to the point at which you are very, very good at making revisions, I will pay you to do mine.

An easy, really easy and impressive dessert.

Coconut Macaroons

WHAT YOU'LL NEED

  • 1 14-oz bag sweetened flaked coconut, such as Baker's Angel Flake. … it’s a reliable kind.

  • ⅞ cup sweetened condensed milk, just short of a cup

  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

  • 2 large eggs whites

  • ¼ teaspoon salt

  • 4 ounces semi-sweet chocolate, best quality such as Ghirardelli, chopped, if you would like to melt it and roll the macaroons in it.

INSTRUCTIONS

  1. Preheat the oven to 325°F. Set two oven racks near the center of the oven. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.

  2. In a medium bowl, mix together the coconut, sweetened condensed milk and vanilla extract. Set aside.

  3. In the bowl of an electric mixer, beat the egg whites and salt until stiff peaks form. Use a large rubber spatula to fold the egg whites into the coconut mixture.

  4. Using a mini ice cream scoop or two spoons, form heaping tablespoons of the mixture into mounds on the prepared baking sheets, spacing about 1 inch apart. Bake for 23 to 25 minutes, rotating the pans from top to bottom and front to back, until the tops and edges are golden. Let cool on the pans for a few minutes, then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.

  5. If you’re using chocolate, melt it in a microwave or a double boiler. Dip the bottoms of the macaroons in the chocolate, letting any excess drip back into the bowl, and return to the lined baking sheets. Let set for ten minutes.

HOT READING TIP

Just finished Helltown by Casey Sherman: It’s a wild, awful ride by a real devotee of the true crime genre. Casey also wrote The Finest Hours, about the 1950s Coast Guard rescue of sailors from a tanker ship that wrecked off the coast of Chatham MA, near where I live, during a winter storm. It was a story of extreme gallantry. This isn’t. Anton Costa was a misfit among misfits and was anything but gallant to the women he somehow attracted in the late 1960s and early 1970s in the picturesque tourist destination of Provincetown MA – then as now a kindly mecca for gay folks and other seekers. If you like this sort of thing, this is the sort of thing you will like.
Interestingly, Casey also wrote about the belief that his aunt, Mary Sullivan, who was murdered before he was born, was the final victim of Albert Di Salvo, better known as the Boston Strangler. Some years ago, that was determined not to be the case, after DNA testing revealed no matches with the notorious killer and the young woman, who was killed just days into her first grown-up adventure on her own in the big city. The murder remains unsolved.
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