Skip to main content

Book review:Miles from No Where(orbus terrarum challenge)

Miles from Nowhere  Synopsis:Rather than face the aftermath of her parent's divorce and her mother's fragile mental state  ,Joon, decides to face life on the mean streets of the Bronx,Ny.Even in the 1980's this proves
to be a  near fatal mistake.  Among the many accolades this book received ,it was shortlisted for the Orange Award for New Writers in April 2009.

About the Orange Award:The Orange Award was started by a committee of men and women in the publishing industry that wanted to bring attention to women writers who were often overlooked.  Four original
committe members are still deeply involved,Orange Broadband Prize for Fiction Project Director Harriet
Hastings,publisher Susan Sandon,agent Jane Gregory ,Honary Director and author Kate Mosse.  The first prize was awarded to Helen Dunmore for "A spell of Winter".  Diana Evans was awarded the first Orange Award for New Writers in 2005.

My overall impression:  I loved  every second of reading this book!  It has the amount of imagery I crave and
a very good use of plot (which I've noticed you don't always get both)Ms.Mun's style was prose like,fresh and intoxicating. I would definitely recommend this book I  would give it more than 5 stars but 5 is the most 
I give anyone.  Since the author was born in Korea this counts for my orbus terrarum challenge. I am linking up this review with Reviews on Friday) and for the Literary Hop this weekend.


Ashley E said…
This will be on my list to read! Just started following you, and if you would like to follow back, great!!!

Ashley E
Oh wow, this book looks amazing! I just found your blog through book blogs - love it! New follower!

-Linds, bibliophile brouhaha

Popular posts from this blog

Poem: In Texas Grass by Quincy Troupe

All along the rail
                                road tracks of texas
                               old train cars lay
                               rusted &overturned
                              like new african governments
                             long forgotten by the people
                              who built & rode them
                                till they couldn't run no more,
                              they remind me of old race horses
                             who've been put out to pasture
                            amongst the weeds
                            rain sleet &snow
                            till they die,rot away
                            like photos fading
                           in grandma's picture book,
                         of old black men in mississippi/texas
                         who sit on dilapidated porches,
                        that fall away
                       like dead man'…

The Speed of Belief by Tracy K Smith (poem)

I didn't want to wait on my knees
In a room made quiet by waiting. A room where we'd listen for the rise
Of breath, the burble in his throat. I didn't want the orchids or the trays
Of food meant to fortify that silence, Or to pray for him to stay or to go then
Finally toward that ecstatic light I didn't want to believe
What we believe in those rooms: That we are blessed, letting go,
Letting someone, anyone, Drag open the drapes and heave us Bak into our blinding, bright lives When your own sweet father died You woke before first light And ate half a plate of eggs and grits, And Drank a glass of milk. After  you'd left, I sat in your place And finished  the toast bits with jam And the cold eggs, the thick bacon Flanged in fat , savoring the taste. Then I slept, too young to know how narrow And grave the road before you seemed--- All the houses zipped tight , the night's Few clouds muddy as cold coffee. You stayed gone a week, and who were we Without your clean p…

My Arkansas by Maya Angelou

There is a deep brooding
                             in Arkansas
                            Old crimes like moss pend
                           from poplar trees.
                           The sullen earth
                           is much too
                          red for comfort.
                          Sunrise seems to hesitate
                           and in that second
                           lose its
                           incandescent aim,and
                          dusk no more shadows
                           than the noon.
                           The past is brighter yet.

                          Old hates and
                          ante-bellum lace,are rent
                          but not discarded.
                          Today is yet to come
                           in Arkansas.
                           it writhes. It writhes in awful brooding.