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Heather’s 2024 Year in Books
Take a look at Heather’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
Heather Babcock’s Followers (29)
2,475 books
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449 friends
1,794 books
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819 friends
3,429 books
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523 friends
392 books
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48 friends
7,032 books
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143 friends
432 books
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987 friends
238 books
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926 friends
557 books
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51 friends
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Heather Babcock
ŷ Author
Born
Toronto, Canada
Genre
Influences
Charles Bukowski; Truman Capote; Toni Morrison; Helen Potrebenko; Hube
...more
Member Since
June 2015
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Popular Answered Questions
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Filthy Sugar
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published
2020
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4 editions
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Of Being Underground and Moving Backwards
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published
2015
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* Note: these are all the books on ŷ for this author. To add more, click here.
Pre-Code Hollywood: No Damsels. No Knights in Shining Armor. Just Dames and Forgotten Men in Chains
I am currently working on a novel set during the Depression of the 1930′s. One of the joyful side effects of my research has been discovering the early “talkie� Hollywood films from 1930-1934, known as the “Pre-Code� period. For those not in the know, “Pre-Code� refers to films that were made and released before the amended Production Code “to govern the making of motion and talking pictures� (aka
Read more of this blog post »
Heather’s Recent Updates
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Heather Babcock
rated a book it was amazing
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"|| WE DO WHAT WE DO IN THE DARK ||
Shame and pride often feel like the same thing. You begin to want to protect even the most embarrassing parts of yourself. � "I don't think I am a very lovable person either." She wanted the woman to tell her she was, " Read more of this review » |
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Heather Babcock
and
1 other person
liked
Sharon's review
of
Closing Time: The True Story of the "Looking for Mr. Goodbar" Murder:
"Trying to hard to be Capote
For the reporter assigned to the original case, she fictionalized a lot. I understand from her author's note that she didn't talk to "Katherine Cleary's" family but she romanticized "Joe Willie" way too much. She also left" Read more of this review » |
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Heather Babcock
rated a book it was ok
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| I've always had a fascination with New York in the 1970s. When I was in my 20s, I was obsessed with the novel Looking for Mr. Goodbar by Judith Rossner, so when I discovered this book, which claims to be the "true story" behind the novel, I was intri ...more | |
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Heather Babcock
wants to read
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Heather Babcock
and
19 other people
liked
George Ilsley's review
of
Paper Shadows: A Memoir of a Past Lost and Found:
"Paper Shadows: A Chinatown Childhood � A haunting memoir from the bestselling author of The Jade Peony.
This was a delightful memoir about family history in Vancouver and Victoria, B.C.; and how people left their Chinese cities and villages, arriving " Read more of this review » |
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Heather Babcock
rated a book it was amazing
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| A slim book that packs a punch. A very powerful, memorable read. | |
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Heather Babcock
rated a book it was amazing
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| Review forthcoming with The Seaboard Review. | |
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Heather Babcock
rated a book really liked it
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| A well-written psychological mystery; a slow burn that is as compelling as it is disturbing. | |
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Heather Babcock
rated a book it was amazing
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| Inside Every Dream, a Raging Sea, poems by Liz Worth, boldly confronts aging, memory, the passage of time: these things that we - women in particular - are taught to fight against, to deny; but as Worth writes, "I didn't come all this way to write bo ...more | |
“Time doesn’t really ‘march on�. It tends to tip-toe. There’s no parade. No stomping of boots to alert you to its passing. One day, you turn around and it is gone.”
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“Betty realized that when it came to relationships with other human beings, she would always feel alone. And yet there was this place � this small special place inside of her � a place where quiet beauty was embraced, a place where memories became fantasies and where fantasies became memories. Like a pebble, Betty could lose herself within this place, this opulent ocean, and yet even if the water were to one day reject her too, even if it were to cast her back up onto its shores, she knew that she would catch the light of the sun again.”
― Of Being Underground and Moving Backwards
― Of Being Underground and Moving Backwards
“Time doesn’t really ‘march on�. It tends to tip-toe. There’s no parade. No stomping of boots to alert you to its passing. One day, you turn around and it is gone.”
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“You don’t choose these people and in the not choosing you learn tolerance. You learn to forgive.”
― Of Being Underground and Moving Backwards
― Of Being Underground and Moving Backwards
“My mother took one of the sunflowers from me and placed it over Pumpkin’s grave. She folded her hands over her stomach and leaned forward, staring at the headstone as though she expected it to suddenly topple backwards and for Pumpkin, all strawberry-blond hair and big eyes, to emerge with arms outstretched. A low moan escaped from my mother’s lips, the kind of sound that a wild animal makes when it’s dying and alone. I wanted to comfort her, but in my own selfish, possessive grief I was immobilized. I wanted her to leave so that I could be alone with my sister.
The last time I had been alone with Pumpkin was just before the burial. She had been laid out in a frilly butter-yellow granny dress that she had worn once to our cousin’s wedding the year before. Her peach-painted mouth was pursed in a pensive expression, the kind of look she would have quickly replaced with a smile had she caught someone looking. As I leaned over the casket and pressed my lips to her cheek, I was less shocked by the coldness of her skin than I was by the realization that I had never kissed my sister before. I had hugged her many times, I had wrestled with her in front of the TV set, I had slept beside her and had felt her heart beating against my back, but I had never before kissed her face.”
― Of Being Underground and Moving Backwards
The last time I had been alone with Pumpkin was just before the burial. She had been laid out in a frilly butter-yellow granny dress that she had worn once to our cousin’s wedding the year before. Her peach-painted mouth was pursed in a pensive expression, the kind of look she would have quickly replaced with a smile had she caught someone looking. As I leaned over the casket and pressed my lips to her cheek, I was less shocked by the coldness of her skin than I was by the realization that I had never kissed my sister before. I had hugged her many times, I had wrestled with her in front of the TV set, I had slept beside her and had felt her heart beating against my back, but I had never before kissed her face.”
― Of Being Underground and Moving Backwards
