This book is moreabout abundance than simplicity. In places Ms. Breathnach does extol thevirtues of simplicity and has you clearing clutter; in others she has youbuying and hoarding and collecting everything, from fabric remnants, justin case some day you get the urge to staple lace to the pantry shelves, toautumn leaves for exuberant Victorian tableaus, (aka dust-collectors).These things are much more fun to read about than to actually do. I don'twant to tie little circles of fabric to the tops of jam jars; even whenthey're bought that way, I'm the one who gets to cut them off and throwthem in the garbage. Nor do I want to replace the buttons on all my clotheswith cute ones, I curse enough if I have to replace one where themanufacturer did a shoddy job. I don't want to know what decoupage is; andmost especially, I really, really, don't want to buy a hat to cheer myselfup. Having hot mulled cider after raking leaves sounds charming (and Iloathe cider), but the reality is that after raking leaves my back hurts,I'm exhausted and can barely crawl to the shower to wash the sweat and deadbugs off, and if I had to search for a hot mulled cider recipe I'd whackthe nearest bystander with a poker.
Since books are for reading andpondering, the pleasure in this one is in doing exactly that, and it doesprovide a lot of it. The problem I had with it was its overall freneticbusyness, which is in sharp contrast to its meditative advice. If youhaven't already read it, go ahead, you know you want to, and somewhere inall its generosity and abundance you'll find ideas that appeal to you andthat you can realistically use. But remember, if you can't keep up with thesuggestions and images given for creating a perfect home, don't feelguilty. If you can, you're either a Stepford Wife or have a seriousamphetamine problem.
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