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The Sweet Potato Queen's Book of Love Paperback – 3 Jan 2002


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Product details

  • Paperback: 213 pages
  • Publisher: Ebury Press (3 Jan. 2002)
  • Language: English
  • ISBN-10: 0091882079
  • ISBN-13: 978-0091882075
  • Product Dimensions: 20.3 x 13.5 x 2 cm
  • Average Customer Review: 4.3 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (24 customer reviews)
  • Amazon Bestsellers Rank: 1,723,108 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)

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Product Description

From the Publisher

A fallen Southern belle’s look at love, life, men, marriage and being prepared. Riotous, irreverent and knockdown naughty – a must for any man who has loved a spirited woman, and for any woman who is one

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

That Queenly Look
Maintaining It in This Lifetime and the Next
Getting and keeping that Queenly Look is no small feat, and you'd be amazed at all the details to which we must constantly attend. A good portion of our lives is, of necessity, devoted to our hair, our skin tone, our figure flaws, and our clothes. On parade day, none of this is a problem: We all wear huge matching wigs, we get tan enough (if only by the bottle or the bed) to avoid causing snow blindness in our audience, and in our fantastically enhanced matching outfits, our true body shape can't be discerned. But alas, we parade only one day a year, while we are Queens for Life, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Certain considerations must be taken.
When the Wigs Come Off
The Queens are split about fifty-fifty, I'd say, in the hair department. What I mean is that half of us have some-as in lots, abundant, tons-and the rest of us have about four hairs each that we try in vain to frump and twitter into the semblance of Big Hair. Big Hair is highly desirable. You must have Big Hair to perform hair-tossing and -fluffing. This is the main activity of women in bars, and it is done not only to attract men but to intimidate other women. Because, trust me, other women are intimidated-especially if they happen to be other women to whom the hair gods were unkind. A thin, mousy mop cowers beside a Crowning Glory.
A friend of ours, Gail Pittman-an aspiring Queen who thinks she can ascend directly to the throne, bypassing the Wannabes-is a hugely successful, self-made businesswoman. She used to be a schoolteacher and now she owns and runs a gabillion-dollar company that produces her signature line of pottery and sells it in the finest shops nationwide. She has done it-made it. And in addition, she's the sweetest thing ever to draw breath. It would take a really small person to begrudge her the smashing success she has truly earned. You cannot help but love her at first sight. But sadly there are really small people in this world, and they are just the type who can only feel bigger if they make you feel smaller.
Gail was scheduled to make an appearance on a midsize town's local television talk show, and she had gotten all dolled up for the occasion, as she is wont to do: look nice for the people. For all her success and her universally renowned sweet disposition, our Gail does have a flaw; and she had the great misfortune of being in the clutches of one of those really small people, who also happened to be the local female talk show host. As the guy backstage was counting off the seconds-to-air time for them, ''Two . . . one,' the host leaned over to Gail and said, 'I thought so-you have thin hair! You're on!''
To say that Gail was undone does not even begin to describe it. She could hardly speak. She couldn't even think about what the creature was asking, for worrying about her hair and how very thin it must appear with all those lights shining through it and how she wished she'd worn a big hat. It was the longest ten or fifteen minutes of her entire life, and she has never fully recovered from it. We can only assume that this was the desired effect. I mean, what positive intent could be attributed to a woman who would say to another woman, immediately before a live television broadcast, ''You have thin hair''?
Women with Big Hair talk with it the way Italians use their hands. They send messages with it and use it for punctuation. Their heads swivel like owls'. Women with Not Much Hair do not whip their heads about in the violent manner espoused by women with Big Hair. When desiring to look at something on the opposite side of the room from where we are currently gazing, those of us without Big Hair make a single, simple, discreet movement, one that does not disarrange our hair nor create strong wind currents that could endanger others. A Big Haired Woman, on the other hand, making the same turn will first duck her chin, then abruptly jerk it up and around, causing her massive mane to be lifted up and out in an alarming fashion, actually standing, for a moment, straight out from her head before collapsing and swirling about her head and face. Consequences to others depend on the length of said hair and the position of the hair in relation to its surroundings. Innocent bystanders can suffer lacerated eyeballs if they are not alert. Busboys have had the entire contents of their trays swept crashing to the floor by proximity to an ill-timed hair toss. An event of this magnitude, however, wouldn't be classified as a mere toss; such a grand toss is used primarily to communicate a willingness to perform sexual acts. When property damage occurs, it is usually the result of an actual hair fling, used to indicate extreme displeasure or, in the vernacular, being ''pissed-off big time.''

Customer Reviews

4.3 out of 5 stars
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Most Helpful Customer Reviews

2 of 2 people found the following review helpful By A Customer on 14 Jan. 2002
Format: Paperback
What a great book! From the outset, it is blissfully easy to picture the 'Queens' making whoopee at Hal & Mal's, Fat Mama's Knock you Naked Margarita in hand, saying yah-boo-sucks to the world in general. Completely irrerverent, laugh out loud funny, it also shows it's soft side in the last chapter which is very touching. Jill C-B's style is bitingly funny, frighteningly accurate and one of the biggest romps I have read in a LONG time! Once UK readers get wind of this, prepare for a bestseller to beat all others in 2002! Yo' mama would NOT approve.
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I agree with all the "Tammies" that this book should forever after be referred to as "The Book". I am a 35 year old wife and mother who needed reminding of what fun we women can have. Do yourself a favor; do not hesitate to order this book IMMEDIATELY and while you're at it, you may as well get a half dozen (or more) for your "bestest" girlfriends. The book is the most hysterical I have ever read. My girlfriends and I want to fly Ms. Browne to our hometown to speak. The recipes are to die for. In particular the "New Allison's Mamba Margaritas" have been a hit at all our parties. They make us feel "festive", which is of course the "favorite Queenly way to feel". My husband is at my beck and call for "The Promise", and the lives of my friends and myself will never again be the same. We vow to make a pilgrimage to "The Parade" at some point. Buy the book and be a "Queen". You will not be disappointed.
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1 of 1 people found the following review helpful By A Customer on 2 Sept. 1999
Format: Paperback
I notice that those who hate this book also happen to need to go back to first grade and learn to spell. Hmm, is there a correlation??
This book makes me laugh just thinking about it! The section on writing your own obituary is classic -- no banana clips will be in MY obit!
Buy this book today and ignore the spelling bee losers.
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I am still drying my tears of laughter from reading this book in about 24 hours. ( sleep time figured in too!) I couldn't put the blessed thing down. Jill Conner Browne has a sense of humor that I thought was so refreshing I went right out and bought the ingredients to "Chocolate Stuff" and "Fat Mama's Knock You Naked Margaritas." If you are looking for a saucy, point blank, down and dirty, honest look at "the way it really is", (love, that is, and a lot of other bits of life wisdom), you have to buy this book now! You won't ever waste your time again with another self-help book or a book of "rules" again, you won't need them. Jill nails the bottom line with her attitude and opinions and you'll sware she just said exactly what has run through your mind many times. My hat's off to you Jill, and I can't wait to start a Sweet Potato Queen Club!!! Amen!
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By A Customer on 10 May 1999
Format: Paperback
I ain't neva been a chicken plucker thanks to my mama, St. Martin's and Hollins College. Just finished my mom's tattered copy with a charming note & autograph by JCB, and I can't stop grinning. Having grown up "Southern," I know these "modacious" women, and I called you one and all "Miss" Tammy. I know you all said to drop the "Miss" because like "ma'am," it didn't fit with y'all's self image, but dammit, you have to give a Queen the proper mode of address. Miss Tammy, thank you for telling it like it still is. This book was the Come Back Sauce I needed to ruminate on my own blessed childhood in a Humidified Oz. Read this and dream you are a Queen, or just refresh your memory of how you became a Queen. JCB, you get five beans in my review! Snow Queen to Sweet Potato Queen: Like Butter!
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Any organization (and I use that word loosely in relation to the Sweet Potato Queens)that consists of a bunch of women all of whom are named Tammy has got to be good. There is so much to learn from the SPQ's Book of Love. Where else will you find the etymology for the curious phrase "Jay at the Desk"? Who else could examine with such insight the theological mysteries of why Baptists don't wear shorts on Sunday? And all that business about panties and parties, Good God! I need more. Baby, just give it to me. I feel like I'm the only man she ever loved and henceforth I shall be more particular about everything. Especially about the kind of margaritas I make. Read this book and you will be prepared for just about anything that comes your way, unless of course it's a pack of Sweet Potato Queens.
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By A Customer on 21 Feb. 1999
Format: Paperback
Oh, my Gawwwddd, is this a funny book. I laughed until my head ached and my abdominal muscles were quivering.
I have never worn sequins, or big hair, nor, sadly, did I ever own a pair of Majorette boots, either, but this book made me know to my deepest core, that I want all of these things. All I want to do before I die is eat Chocolate stuff and drink Fat Mama's Knock You Naked margaritas, and spend just one St. Paddy's Day in Jackson, Mississippi, dancing in the streets like a true Sweet Potato Queen Wannabe.
Y'all buy this book. You might as well buy a bunch, 'cause your friends are gonna "borrow" your copy and never give it back.
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