Update and Review

First, I received a reply from a literary agent that was a "pass" on my manuscript, but it
was because she no longer represented the memoir genre.  She did say she felt that my
manuscript and memoir would eventually find the right agent; just keep pressing the "send" key.  

I finished reading the memoir Confessions Of A Counterfeit Farm Girl by Susan McCorkindale which I have to say was a real scream.  It's about a woman and her family who move from New Jersey to rural Virginia to live on a farm.  Only this lady used to be an editor at a major magazine and was drawing a six figure salary.  Her husband is the one who has the hankering to move south and live off the land.  She gives up the city life and the big salary to live in a renovated farm house on 500 acres of land.  

Susan gets a rude awakening the first month when she and her family have to live with her brother-in-law and his wife until renovations are complete on the farm house.  This proves taxing because it drags on and on; plus, her sons are having a field day doing their own kind
of renovations to their uncle's house including using the dining room curtains to build tents.  Basically, Susan chronicles how much she feels like a fish out of water.  Upon her first social meeting with women of the Virginia area, she discovers that to "ride" is not to ride a subway, but ride a horse which all children in this rural area seem to do as a rite of passage.  She further misses her Starbucks on the corner and her ability to walk and go shopping.  The closest store she has is a Tractor Supply which her husband loves; however, she would rather not be caught dead in a pair of bib overalls.  

At first I was a bit annoyed with this memoir probably because I have lived in the south all my life and run across many northern folk who move here and then complain about life in the south and what they miss about the north.  As my grandfather used to say, Interstate 85 runs both ways, we'll be more than happy for you to pack your bags and head right back up 85 North.  Susan does write about her experiences in a humorous manner; I laughed out loud quite a few times as she discovers the joys of life on a farm.  By the end of the memoir, I think Susan discovers she can do rural life and actually just might a tad enjoy it.  There are numerous numerical references in each chapter to additional information written in microscopic print at the bottom of each page.  This proves distracting to me as a reader, and it is not actually necessary to read those notations to enjoy the memoir.  I look forward to Mrs. McCorkindale's next book and hope she at least finds it in her heart to try a Lilly Pulitzer or two in May and maybe even attend a horse race or two; southern life does have its treasures too.