I was searching for my first book’s manuscript on my computer and came across this article my father wrote about my book. He used to write a column in our hometown local newspaper. His review made me happy and I wanted to share it. My dad loves opera, serious mystery novels, and the Far Side. I’m sure it is the Far Side part of him that found appreciation in my little Chick Lit novel. Thank you, Daddy. I love you.

My Daughter, the Novelist, by Rick Thurman (7 March 2012)

            This column provides me with an opportunity—and I’m unabashed when I say this—to do some bragging.  After all, not everyone can say that he is the father of a novelist!

            Some time ago (maybe ten years ago, maybe longer) our daughter Victoria began writing accounts of some of her experiences on various dates.  I suppose that I was idly interested in her “hobby” at the time I first heard of it, but I became increasingly impressed as I continued to hear references to this activity.  Eventually she announced to us that she was writing a novel about a young woman whose experiences with men were suggested by her own.  Last fall she entered the ranks of published authors as a result of following the path that more and more writers are taking these days: self-publishing. 

            Her novel is entitled The Dating Dilemmas of Delilah Dunnfield.  The title character, who goes by the nickname Deli, is a 24-year old woman whose mother has always emphatically warned her that “all the good ones are taken by the time you’re 25.”  As a result, Deli is searching, almost desperately, for Mr. Right.  Her search is both frantic and hilarious.  Maybe it’s hilarious because it’s so frantic!  Victoria swears that many of the adventures, or misadventures, Deli has are almost precise accounts of her own encounters with the opposite sex. 

            I must say at this point that I have next to no interest in or experience with “chick lit.”  It is probably true that this novel is the first such work I have ever read.  I began to read it with interest, of course, because the author carries my DNA, but I was not many pages into it before I began reading it for itself—as an interesting and well-written story.

            Indeed, I was truly impressed with the quality of the writing.  I had had long experience with Victoria’s delightfully eccentric sense of humor, and I was pleased to find that quality exhibited in full measure on almost every page.  I was almost more impressed, however, to see what a good writer she is!  To be honest, I don’t know to what degree skill in writing may be inherited.  While I would like to claim some credit for the merit of the novel, I hardly dare do so.  (When she asked me to proofread and edit the galley pages, my first question to her was, “Does it have a beginning, a middle, and an end?”  She assured me that it does.  I don’t know why I was so skeptical!)