Vivacious (adjective)

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Definition

  1. Lively in temper, conduct or spirit: sprightly.

(Ref: Merriam-Webster Online, Word of the Day, 10 August 2020)

Use it in a sentence

Meredith carefully moved her cup of tea out of the way, and smoothed out the newspaper in front of her. She could have read the review of her debut novel online, but there was something deeply satisfying and momentous about turning to good old-fashioned print. After all, she often still wrote with pen and paper.

Her hands shook just a little. Her heart raced.

Here.

Review of Must Hate Dogs, by Meredith Caspin

Ms Caspin displays an audacious capacity for creating complex and vivacious characters that incite envy, compassion and hate in the reader, and all in equal measure. The main character’s antics involving his aunt and her knitting circle are a fascinating reflection of today’s vulgar infatuation with narcissism. And, although predictable, the scene where he bludgeons the dog and tosses the collar nonchalantly over his shoulder is still shocking and gruesome, and perfectly demonstrates his unhinged nature and the nature, indeed, of all those smarting from the 21st century’s rebuke.  

But ultimately, Caspin’s debut novel is only one more in a conga line of dystopian tales that seek a perverse if subtle revenge on previous generations and their idealistic literature. Who cares if the dog died? The answer, Caspin seems to want to tell us, is nobody. And if nobody cares, why should the reader?

A wholesome effort, but generally forgettable.

Meredith realised her jaw was hanging open and her eyes were watering. The reviewer was known for his blunt and scathing evaluations, especially of debut novels – he felt it was his duty to play the priest in a baptism of fire. She had steeled herself for criticism, but this – this was a bloody execution. The worst of it was that she didn’t even understand half of it. Rebuked by the 21st century?  Perverse if subtle revenge?

Meredith got up from the table, picked up her cup of tea and hurled it out the open back door with a vehemence she didn’t know she was capable of. After breathing hard and grinding her teeth for a moment, she turned her back on the smashed pieces of ceramic and went to her kitchen cabinet. She rummaged around until she found a half bottle of wine she’d opened a while ago, for cooking. Meredith didn’t drink, and the wine was already far gone. But she unscrewed the lid and took a long swig.

Then she collapsed into a chair and burst into tears. She howled too, unashamed. Woeful and destroyed.  

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