Reviews for Something Wonderful

The average rating for Something Wonderful based on 2 reviews is 5 stars.

Review # 1 was written on 2013-10-02 00:00:00 John Roberts Re-read for me. I.LOVED.IT. Every single bit of it ... OMG, seriously, this books is P.E.R.F.E.C.T.I.O.N!! That ending ... and Epilogue! ****************************************** ORIGINAL REVIEW BELOW. "I'm glad," she said softly. "I wouldn't want you to be hurt." I don't want to say too much about this one as you are better off just reading it blind. I loved it. "A lie is an affront to the soul, as well as an insult to the intelligence of the person to whom one lies." A lot of my friends do not read Historicals. Their loss is all I can say. Girls, there are sexy scenes in Historicals too…. "What are you looking at?" Jordan demanded finally, watching her. "A dragon." When he looked bewildered she lifted her arm and pointed to the sky in the southeast. "Right there'that cloud'what do you see when you look at it?" "A fat cloud." Alexandra rolled her eyes at him. "What else do you see?" He was quiet for a moment studying the sky. "Five more fat clouds and three thin ones." There is mistrust, misunderstanding, dickhead hero, friendships, falling outs. "It is my custom to have sherry in the drawing room at eight-thirty and supper at nine. In future, please join me here promptly at eight-thirty, Alexandra." Fire ignited in Alexandra's eyes, but she managed to keep her voice level. "You've already told me where I may sleep, where I may go, who must accompany me, and when I must eat. Would you care to instruct me as to when I may breathe?" Eventhough the ould biddy annoyed me in the beginning I liked her in the end. And if you guys have not watched NORTH and SOUTH, think it might be a BBC adaptation of Elizabeth Gaskell's novel, go and watch it. Richard ARMITAGE as John Thorntom. Le Sigh. She was a gentle dreamer. He was a hard realist. She was, in fact, such a dreamer that she actually believed "something wonderful" was going to happen - which wasn't that surprising since she also believed wet dirt in the springtime smelled like perfume … "Are you patronizing me?" "I love you, he thought with each thrust of his body; I love you, his heart shouted with each thunderous beat; I love you, his soul cried out as Alexandra's spasms clenched him tightly. I love you. The words exploded in his being as he drove into her one last time and poured his life, his future, and all the disillusionment of his past into her tender keeping." "And when it was over, he held her in his arms, filled with a joy that was almost past bearing as he gazed at the white clouds floating in the powder blue sky. All of them had shapes and meaning to him now. All his life had shape and meaning to him now." This author is wonderful. I can "feel" her writing. "Alexandra was goodness and gentleness and trust. And love. She was flowers blooming on the hillsides and laughter floating through the halls."

Review # 2 was written on 2011-09-02 00:00:00 David Albonesi When I read Judith McNaught I feel like I'm transferred to some other dimension. So you have this huge 500 pages long book with pitiful title and a truly awful cover and yet I very much think about when it's the right time to start reading it, because her books consummate my time completely. I sincerely cannot think about anything else. It's drastic and extreme and I tell myself that during my weekends when I have enough time to go for a walk or for a swim because the sea is still very warm or to start playing tennis for fuck's sake, cause just behind my building are tennis courts, I need to do something more proactive and physical I end up carrying this book to toilet, hating myself that I can't stop myself from reading it slower. It's mind numbing and I feel very stiffened and my muscles are atrophying. And then I think how come she is not more popular, because she is brilliant. And I'm hooked. It's the same as with Pat Conroy. I've been delaying reading his 'The prince of tides' for years. Every time I see it in the library I say next month, or next year, and I know that when I get my hands on that book, I won't leave my flat for days because Conroy's geniusness makes my skin ache. I have a friend who said the same thing about Conroy, who as well had been studying in Citadel just like Conroy and he's very proud of his military ring, but even he who is ruthless when we play social games like Pictionary because the way his mind works is utterly strange because his instincts and creativity are immaculate and eyes widening, this friend of mine says that when he reads Conroy he feels violated but in a good way. He can take him in small dozes. I can take Conroy in small dozes. Just as Marilynne Robinson and William Trevor and Flannery O'Connor and Raymond Carver. Because they are all - too much. They are too good, but too sad and too realistic. I adore each one of them and I'll read them repeatedly. McNaught isn't making the same effect on me, but it's very close in a different way. She makes me fall in love with reading. Again and again. I adore her characters and these perpetual and fatigued games they play with each other. She writes about romance troubles and rakes and dukes and scoundrels and virgins and tons and castles and field fighting and society rules and naive girls and bad steel gray eyed men and all these books they could have been very flat and with flaws and books for spinsters with cats, and there you would have a problem if you looked at them like this, but truth to be said Judith McNaught writes utterly spectacular stories which make me scream with laughter and enjoy them immensely. This is why I'll never write an insincere review because you can say that 500 pages of romance book is easy to write because you obviously just need rakes and dukes and scoundrels and virgins and tons and castles and field fighting and society rules and naive girls and bad steel gray eyed men, but to melt all of the written into something wonderful really is Something Wonderful.