For some, Jane Stillwater might be an acquired taste. She has a gift for skewering the pompous with a phrase, of unabashedly pointing out which emperors lack clothes. If one is a die-hard conservative still giving George Bush manly love, Jane's writing will probably be infuriating. (At least one can hope.)
She writes from a personal perspective and the chronicle of her overseas oddessies read like a combination of Mark Twain and Jack Kerouac.
For the seriously open-minded who enjoy a good chortle.
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