Publisher: Woodhall Press

ISBN: 978-1949116328

Here’s the thing. I’m a sixty-three-old underemployed freelance writer and editor who enjoys reviewing books. To date I’ve reviewed more than two dozen, from all genres, at all lengths, and which exhibit all levels of skill. I’m pleased to say that even when some criticism has been involved, my reviews have gone over fairly well with authors, publishers, and marketing people. So I feel I have a pretty good handle on how to read, understand, and assess just about any book.

Right?

Well, this one, despite the fact that it made me smile a lot, that it made me think about my own social media presence, that it was a quick and easy read, and that it was pretty well put together, has me a bit stumped.

Why? 

Maybe because I have yet to come across anything quite like it. While undoubtedly there are many other books out there that occupy a similar literary universe, I don’t believe I’ve ever been involved with one, personally or professionally. 

And yet, here I am, reviewing it. So, did I learn a few things and draw a few conclusions by doing so? To some extent, yes. 

As one example, I learned that A.J. O’Connell, a freelance journalist and marketing writer, has a good, sharp, and singular sense of humor. For another, while I already knew that Facebook and other social media platforms still have a Wild West character to them (we bring our personal baggage with us but usually just toss it on the dusty floor while we try to settle in), it was more or less confirmed between these pages. Finally, I was introduced to Woodhall Press, a small, legitimate indie house “committed to publishing diverse voices and welcomes submissions from female and under-represented writers.” (I wonder if that can include underemployed sixty-four-year-old male writers!)

Put it all together and you have an intriguing little book that’s going to compel many readers to say, “I could do that!” But guess what. They haven’t. O’Connell has. 

And just what is it she has done? She filled a real little book, made out of paper and ink (as opposed to social media posts, made out of pixels and voltage) with what the late George Carlin once called brain droppings. We all have them. Random thoughts, ideas, tidbits, top-of-the-head speculations and realizations, ironies, observations, daydreams, regrets, hopes, wishes, fears, some exceedingly short, others a page long, mostly about her life and her role as a mother and wife (and taxpayer and voter and pet owner and a few dozen other things). As noted, we all do that in some form or another. I do it myself from time to time in a literary blog called “Hey, You Never Know.” 

We all see our own inner-visions through a very subjective lens. What’s curious or meaningful or even funny to one person may be somewhat less so to someone else. That’s the case here. How could it not be? Which is why I don’t know if I’d have Ms. O’Connell’s guts to take “Hey, You Never Know” away from pixels and voltage and give it to paper and ink. After all, it’s so easy for brain droppings to fall flat, and as an underemployed sixty-four-year-old writer, my ego may be too fragile to handle that. 

On the other hand (as Ms. O’Connell and her publisher seem to know), that really shouldn’t matter at all. Because just like on social media, where you can dismiss a post and go on to the next one, in a book you can just as easily dismiss a page and go on to the next one. 

That’s what I did. But I must also note that with one of the first pages starting this way: “The phrase ‘You’re beautiful inside and out’ will never cease to gross me out,” and with one of the last pages starting this way: “Note to Self: That is not Chapstick. That is a glue stick,” it made me more than willing to overlook a few quickly-turned pages. I’m willing, for instance, to overlook some poetry (I’m not a fan—unless I make it up myself). I’m willing to overlook some minor stylistic editing choices I might have done differently for slightly more literary efficiency (don’t forget, I’m an underemployed book editor!). And finally,  I’m willing to overlook the niggling feeling that this book could have benefited from some photos and illustrations (just as social media does). 

Yes, I’m willing to overlook all those things for three primary reasons. One, I laughed. Two, though I don’t know her from Eve, I’m proud of the author for having taken on this newfangled publishing route with such confidence. And three, I’m more careful than ever before I put on Chapstick.