Skip to main content

The Mistress's Revenge by Tamar Cohen

The Mistress's Revenge: A NovelAccording to Msnbc's survey 1 in 5 adults have cheated on the person they are currently with.
Atleast 28% of the married men and 18% of married women(The survey was taken by 70,000 adult online).Author M.Gary Neuman,author of "The Truth About Cheating:Why Men stray and What You Can Do About It", comprised a 2 year study that followed  a 100 faithful men and 100 unfaithful men the results may surprise you : only 8% of the cheating men said that sexual dissatisfaction was the reason and 48% said it was emotional  disconnect..   So what if the other woman after being dumped would not go away quietly
what if she was determined to bring the affair to light no  matter  how much she stood to lose in the process?  Enter Sally Islip the former mistress of clive Gooding a well known philandering music producer , who has just ended their 5 year  affair without much of an explanation to Sally.   Even though she is in a long term relationship with someone else and has two kids from the union, she doesn't feel like she had much to live for
and has determined in her now fragile and demented mind that she will get even.
My overall impression:  I found the author's style funny, engrossing  and entertaining .   I actually liked Sally's
thearpist,Helen Bunion  because she didn't let Sally  use her advice to justify her little plot to get back at Clive.
It was actually interesting to see Sally slide into her mental decline bu I can't say I was sympathtic, which I am sure was the way it was intended to be taken.   If you don read any other book this summer read this one! I am definitely giving it 5 out of 5 stars.  I would also like to thank Free Press  for allowing me the chance to review the book but I don't get paid to do so.

Comments

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.