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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 (30)
2,602 books
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448 friends
3,516 books
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522 friends
197 books
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66 friends
156 books
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21 friends
1,851 books
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815 friends
7,231 books
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144 friends
1,047 books
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53 friends
436 books
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991 friends
More friends…
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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* 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
and
1 other person
liked
Hollay Ghadery's review
of
Breathing Is How Some People Stay Alive:
"These stories are a sometimes jarring, always hypnotic, staccato phase out of the world we know and simultaneously—through Gadsby’s deep rootedness to our reckless and remarkable humanity—a tether to it. Unforgettable."
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"A compelling and vividly detailed collection of works, Of Being Underground and Moving Backwards opens with “Break,” a first-person narrative from the point of view of a heart-broken, over-worked waitress soldiering on through her shift to pay the bi"
Read more of this review »
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Heather Babcock
and
1 other person
liked
Lisa Nikolits's review
of
Of Being Underground and Moving Backwards:
"Vivid, original and memorable. I would love to read more of this author's work."
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Heather Babcock
rated a book it was amazing
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| I had never heard of Candida Royalle before but I am doing some research on the sexual revolution and I picked up this book at the library because of its title. What a fascinating life! Coming from a working-class background (and dysfunctional family ...more | |
"Mackenzie Nolan’s novel, VEAL, opens with a dedication as important as any of the stunning sentences you’ll find within the pages of this extraordinary debut: “For all the women who are made to answer for the violence of men. I will always be in your"
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Heather Babcock
rated a book it was amazing
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| Like the 1999 film "Office Space" except very, very dark, Jeff Cottrill's new novel "Performance Reviews" will resonate with anyone who has ever survived a toxic work environment. ...more | |
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Heather Babcock
rated a book it was amazing
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| Ann McDougall is the best kind of nonfiction writer: she’s extremely knowledgeable and informative and at the same time her tone is fun and conversational. This makes for very enjoyable reading. I am loving this book. | |
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Heather Babcock
is now following
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Heather Babcock
rated a book it was amazing
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| In the past decade or so, there has been a lot of “let’s talk” mental health discussion in the media. However, this “talk” is usually sanitized and safe: excluding any conversation that would make some uncomfortable. That’s why Myna Wallin’s new coll ...more | |
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Oh wow, I will have to look that up on YouTube; it would be wonderful to hear Capote read it. Thank you!
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“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
