Shaken and Stirred
bond, gwenda bond

W.W. excerpt, because you know you want it
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All right, I can't resist. The opening:

1. Good Ole Boy Number One

Victor Mature's big, black eyes dilated in horror at what they were witnessing. Only a few yards away, Jesus Christ Himself was beng whipped and scourged by bullet-headed Roman soldiers as He struggled up Golgotha with his heavy cross, an orchestra thunderously emphasizing each step. Tears of anguish welled up in Victor Mature's great eyes -- almost ten feet around on the huge outdoor screen -- and he wrenched them away from the brutal spectacle and peered pleadingly into the soft Georgia night. It was as if he were imploring his fellow witnesses -- the rows of dark, silent automobiles -- to join him in the same profound conversion he was undergoing.

Raypoe Clements, the good ole boy who took tickets for the Southland Starlite Drive-in Theater, paid no attention to the two sensitive black moons glistening above him. He, too, was gazing out at the cars, trying to picture what was going on in the back seats of some of them.

Raypoe was sick to death of shows about religion. Now it was The Robe. Last week it was Samson and Delilah; before that, David and Bathsheba; next week it was going to be Demetrius and the Gladiators. The new management, SOS Southland Oil and Enterprises, was Bible-crazy and seemed to think that people came to the drive-in to hear a sermon. Raypoe knew that the teen-agers who made up most of the audience didn't care whether it was Jesus or cowboys on the screen. They only waited for the cartoons to be over before they disappeared down into the seats, emerging only when they wanted some popcorn or had to go to the toilet.

I may just have to read the whole thing.

Also, go read Gavin Grant's interview with Karen Joy Fowler over at Bookselling This Week. Aren't you getting excited that Jane Austen is almost out? On bookclubs, from the interview:

Invitations to book clubs are Fowler's favorite kind of public appearance. And, here, Fowler delved into one of the great mysteries of book clubs: the frequent lack of men. "There has never," she said, "been an exception to this rule. Our book club occasionally tries to hook a few. We bait with Elmore Leonard, Carl Hiaasen, and military nonfiction. But they are too wily for us." She did offer one thought: "I wonder if more men would join book clubs if they understood how outstanding the food generally is?"

One of the most memorable book clubs Fowler has visited was one in Turlock, California, which has been going for almost 70 years. Mothers pass their memberships on to their daughters. Although these two facts may not be related, she pointed out that "it was one of the dressier clubs I ever went to."

worm: Wicked & Weird

today's fave post: Maud Newton on the possibilities of air mattresses in the Big One and the Left Behind books

namecheck: No time for one today!

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