by Bryan Taylor
About The Author
Author LinksWebsite: http://www.threesistersnovel.com/ Blog: http://www.threesistersnovel.com/blog/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/BryanTaylorAuthor
About The Book
Genre: Humor, Satire
Publisher: Dragon Tree Books
Release Date: July 23, 2013
Book Review Shared by BK
I had no idea what to expect when I opened this book, but Bryan Taylor has delivered a funny, laugh-out-loud read. Rebellion at its best! Coito isn’t one to conform to what is expected and really steps outside the box, being a leader and not a follower. That’s what I loved the most about her.
A Daddy’s girl she was, always looking for approval, to realizing that she was the one disappointed. When she decides to become a nun, she thought she could change the world. How they could take that seriously and let her become a nun, well, let’s just say a girl that practiced her confessions and went to them sucking helium beforehand, they were silly for thinking she was true to that calling.
Plus, aren’t Nuns supposed to be virgins?
Taylor delivers a hilarious page turner with The Three Sisters. The only thing that I didn’t really like was it started out in one point of view and at times jumped to another. I think it would have been better told from only first person, Coito’s. There were also times the flow felt interrupted and I had to go back and re-read a few paragraphs. It does put you to mind of Sister Act, and will have you rolling on the floor even without Whoopi. If you’re looking for a change of pace from your everyday reads, then I highly suggest you get your hands on The Three Sisters! You’ll be glad you did!
The college I was at had a small Newman Club for committed collegiate Catholics, who still spent most of their youthful years behaving more like St. Augustine than Cardinal Newman. Some of my friends and I set up a Joyce Club as a refuge for lapsed Catholics, and during our years there, we successfully filched several members of the Newman Club and got them to join our own. Whenever this occurred, I could share the great joy the father in the Bible must have experienced when the Prodigal Son returned home, or the shepherd had found his lost sheep. Working with this close-knit group of friends and learning from each other made college worthwhile. Moreover, there were hundreds of naïve young freshmen each year ripe for corrupting whom I could gird up my loins for, exchange jelly for juice, and turn them into cynics with amazing ease.
Academic life also gave me the opportunity to express my artistic talents in ways that impressed my coterie of college friends. When it snowed, a not infrequent event in Chicago, we created chionic masterpieces that lasted until the sun melted them away. Some were conventional, like Marie Antoinette Gets the Guillotine, but when the college was too cheap to build new sidewalks for its students we put together a column of legless snowmen and snowwomen sitting on their carts and pushing themselves along with paper signs on them saying, “Chicago’s disabled demand new sidewalks!” Thus we married the avant-garde to social activism.
We would also create living art, recreating and transmogrifying great works of the past. The one that got me and my fellow artists into real trouble was when we recreated Da Vinci’s Last Supper with me in puris naturalibus as The Naked Maja recumbent upon the table in front of Christ and his disciples. If the college officials had complained about the anachronistic juxtaposition of Da Vinci’s Cenacle and Goya’s Ode to Pubic Hair as the Christ and his disciples argued over who was going to pay thirty pieces of silver for me, I would have understood their objections, but instead they complained about my full frontal nudity, even though I was as faithful to Goya’s original as I could be. Sure, Billy Sunday wouldn’t have liked it, but he had died decades before. We referred to our masterpieces as Mama Art, the indirect descendent of Dada Art.