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Heather’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Heather’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
Heather Babcock’s Followers (31)
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Heather Babcock
Goodreads Author
Born
Toronto, Canada
Genre
Influences
Charles Bukowski; Truman Capote; Toni Morrison; Helen Potrebenko; Hube
...more
Member Since
June 2015
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Filthy Sugar
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published
2020
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4 editions
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Of Being Underground and Moving Backwards
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published
2015
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Progressive in Polyester: A Tribute to the Women of Saturday Night Fever
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published
2026
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* Note: these are all the books on Goodreads for this author. To add more, click here.
Pre-Code Hollywood: No Damsels. No Knights in Shining Armor. Just Dames and Forgotten Men in Chains
I am currently working on a novel set during the Depression of the 1930′s. One of the joyful side effects of my research has been discovering the early “talkie” Hollywood films from 1930-1934, known as the “Pre-Code” period. For those not in the know, “Pre-Code” refers to films that were made and released before the amended Production Code “to govern the making of motion and talking pictures” (aka
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Heather’s Recent Updates
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Heather Babcock
liked
Michael Nirenberg's review
of
Bicentennial Chic: Bronx Bombers, Son of Sam, KISSteria & the Birth of Saturday Night Fever:
"A few years back Mike Derrico was describing to me what was going to be Bicentennial Chic, a book about New York City in 1976. The significance of its release date July 2026 didn’t seem significant to me, but it happene to be America’s 250th birthday"
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Heather Babcock
is currently reading
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Heather Babcock
wants to read
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Heather Babcock
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Heather Babcock
is now following Steven Mayoff's reviews
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Heather Babcock
and
1 other person
liked
Steven Mayoff's review
of
Progressive in Polyester: A Tribute to the Women of Saturday Night Fever:
"Aside from the painstaking research and the insightful commentary of Heather Babcock’s immensely readable and entertaining essay collection Progressive in Polyester: A Tribute to the Women of Saturday Night Fever (Kobo, 2026), what I found most inter"
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Heather Babcock
rated a book it was amazing
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| I will be reviewing this for my blog Meet Me at the Soda Fountain. Thank you to the publisher and to River Street Writing for the advance copy. Told through the lens of a young clairvoyant nurse who uses her psychic gift to help her most traumatized ...more | |
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Heather Babcock
liked
Neil Traynor's review
of
Progressive in Polyester: A Tribute to the Women of Saturday Night Fever:
"Heather Babcock is a writer of unique insight, intellect, humor and heart. In Progressive In Polyester: A Tribute To The Women Of Saturday Night Fever, she has created a fresh take on a cinematic pop culture classic we thought we knew inside out. In "
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Heather Babcock
liked
Reader's review
of
Progressive in Polyester: A Tribute to the Women of Saturday Night Fever:
"This takes me back to a time that is so familiar to me. I found that the characters were so indicative of the times and I appreciated Heather's empathetic and thoughtful understanding of the characters, especially Donna, who loved Tony (the peacock s"
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Heather Babcock
rated a book liked it
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| More like 3 and a half stars. This one was hard to rate: I would have given it four or five stars but unfortunately there is a chapter (and a few other instances in the book) where Renner talks to an AI chatbot that he humanizes and names "Sky". As s ...more | |
“Time doesn’t really ‘march on’. It tends to tip-toe. There’s no parade. No stomping of boots to alert you to its passing. One day, you turn around and it is gone.”
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“Betty realized that when it came to relationships with other human beings, she would always feel alone. And yet there was this place – this small special place inside of her – a place where quiet beauty was embraced, a place where memories became fantasies and where fantasies became memories. Like a pebble, Betty could lose herself within this place, this opulent ocean, and yet even if the water were to one day reject her too, even if it were to cast her back up onto its shores, she knew that she would catch the light of the sun again.”
― Of Being Underground and Moving Backwards
― Of Being Underground and Moving Backwards
“Time doesn’t really ‘march on’. It tends to tip-toe. There’s no parade. No stomping of boots to alert you to its passing. One day, you turn around and it is gone.”
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“You don’t choose these people and in the not choosing you learn tolerance. You learn to forgive.”
― Of Being Underground and Moving Backwards
― Of Being Underground and Moving Backwards
“My mother took one of the sunflowers from me and placed it over Pumpkin’s grave. She folded her hands over her stomach and leaned forward, staring at the headstone as though she expected it to suddenly topple backwards and for Pumpkin, all strawberry-blond hair and big eyes, to emerge with arms outstretched. A low moan escaped from my mother’s lips, the kind of sound that a wild animal makes when it’s dying and alone. I wanted to comfort her, but in my own selfish, possessive grief I was immobilized. I wanted her to leave so that I could be alone with my sister.
The last time I had been alone with Pumpkin was just before the burial. She had been laid out in a frilly butter-yellow granny dress that she had worn once to our cousin’s wedding the year before. Her peach-painted mouth was pursed in a pensive expression, the kind of look she would have quickly replaced with a smile had she caught someone looking. As I leaned over the casket and pressed my lips to her cheek, I was less shocked by the coldness of her skin than I was by the realization that I had never kissed my sister before. I had hugged her many times, I had wrestled with her in front of the TV set, I had slept beside her and had felt her heart beating against my back, but I had never before kissed her face.”
― Of Being Underground and Moving Backwards
The last time I had been alone with Pumpkin was just before the burial. She had been laid out in a frilly butter-yellow granny dress that she had worn once to our cousin’s wedding the year before. Her peach-painted mouth was pursed in a pensive expression, the kind of look she would have quickly replaced with a smile had she caught someone looking. As I leaned over the casket and pressed my lips to her cheek, I was less shocked by the coldness of her skin than I was by the realization that I had never kissed my sister before. I had hugged her many times, I had wrestled with her in front of the TV set, I had slept beside her and had felt her heart beating against my back, but I had never before kissed her face.”
― Of Being Underground and Moving Backwards