The Book: Ayn Rand, ATLAS SHRUGGED. Signet paperback reprint, 1992 (originally published 1957). 55th printing. Inscribed to the owner: "To Ellen -- I give you this book -- is it altruism? You be the judge -- Ashton 8/25/96." Good condition; pages are slightly age-browned, spine is creased, lower corner of front cover is creased.
First read: Still reading (theoretically)
Owned since: 1996
I rarely reprint the inscriptions in my books -- too personal and/or too boring -- but this one still cracks me up. My then-housemate, Ashton, decided in the summer of 1996 that all of us living at 1800 15th Street NW should read this book, and then we could discuss it. It was a great idea, but as far as I know, none of us managed to finish it -- although I lugged this with me on several business trips, and got to page 587 (it's marked) the last time I tried. I did skip to the end, and read bits and pieces of John Galt's final, endless speech.
Enough, anyway, to get the idea: altruism destroys initiative, only the strong deserve to survive, charity is a crime against the economy, our only and paramount responsibility is to increase our own personal productivity and prosperity.
Pfft. What alarmed me most was the day I had this with me at the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, taking the afternoon off on a business trip to Cleveland. The ticket-taker noticed me carrying the book and said, "Oh my God, are you reading that? I loved that book. That book changed my life."
People sometimes accuse me of over-sharpness, but I still want to give myself credit for not asking how Ayn Rand's principles of Objectivism had helped this person achieve the lofty position of ticket-taker at the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. See, that was altruism on my part. Sometimes it's necessary for a peaceful life.
I keep this book because I cherish the memory of that house, those housemates and that time in my life, not because of anything about the book itself. It's quoted often enough, in enough random places, that I might need it for reference once of these days. Otherwise, I don't ever plan to finish it.
Five Random Songs
"They Never Got You," Spoon. Spoon is one of my favorite bands of the 21st century (even though they've been together since the mid-'90s).
"The Old Apartment," Barenaked Ladies. Weirdly appropriate for today's post. Sometimes I wonder who's living at 1800 15th Street now, and whether they're as happy there as we were. I bet not.
"Na Na Na," The Knife. Cool European electronica, a gift from a friend; I told him I felt like I needed a whole new lifestyle just in order to listen to it.
"Back in the High Life Again," Warren Zevon. A cover of the Steve Winwood song, recorded before Zevon knew he was dying of cancer. In context, almost crucifyingly sad.
"Ma-Ma-Ma-Belle," Electric Light Orchestra. Thank goodness, let's lighten up a little...
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
FOUCAULT'S PENDULUM by Umberto Eco
The Book: Umberto Eco, FOUCAULT'S PENDULUM. Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1988 (first trade edition). Inscribed to the owner: "Good subway reading, or so everyone in D.C. seems to believe. Read it in good health -- Love, Carmen -- X-mas 1989." Fine condition.
First read: Still reading (theoretically)
Owned since: 1989
On the subject of unwieldy books that take years to read, here's one. I've been moving this book since 1989 -- it has accompanied me to eight separate residences -- and I haven't finished it yet. In fact, it's been a while since I last made the effort, and it's probably time for me to try again.
It is possible, if I've known you for a while, that you have the impression I've read this book. I may have implied that I'd read it, at some point -- as the inscription above suggests, everyone in Washington was reading it, or pretending to, 20 years ago. Because its subject matter is similar to that of the (inferior but easier-to-read) Da Vinci Code, I may have dropped this book's title into a few conversations during the Da Vinci Code mania -- again, perhaps, conveying the impression that I had, in fact, finished this book.
Sigh. I am such a damn fraud. I've written about this before, though, and it's one of my pal Tod Goldberg's favorite topics: the inevitable tendency of bookish people to pretend they've read things they haven't. It's rooted in shame, and a terrible snobbery; people I despise got through this book, why can't I?
So maybe, when the current whirl of activity settles a little, I'll tackle this book again. If you've read it, if you like it, leave me a comment to say why I should make the effort one more time.
First read: Still reading (theoretically)
Owned since: 1989
On the subject of unwieldy books that take years to read, here's one. I've been moving this book since 1989 -- it has accompanied me to eight separate residences -- and I haven't finished it yet. In fact, it's been a while since I last made the effort, and it's probably time for me to try again.
It is possible, if I've known you for a while, that you have the impression I've read this book. I may have implied that I'd read it, at some point -- as the inscription above suggests, everyone in Washington was reading it, or pretending to, 20 years ago. Because its subject matter is similar to that of the (inferior but easier-to-read) Da Vinci Code, I may have dropped this book's title into a few conversations during the Da Vinci Code mania -- again, perhaps, conveying the impression that I had, in fact, finished this book.
Sigh. I am such a damn fraud. I've written about this before, though, and it's one of my pal Tod Goldberg's favorite topics: the inevitable tendency of bookish people to pretend they've read things they haven't. It's rooted in shame, and a terrible snobbery; people I despise got through this book, why can't I?
So maybe, when the current whirl of activity settles a little, I'll tackle this book again. If you've read it, if you like it, leave me a comment to say why I should make the effort one more time.
Monday, June 16, 2008
ULYSSES by James Joyce
The Book: James Joyce, ULYSSES. Vintage trade paperback reprint, 1990. Good condition; pages are age-browned, spine is bowed and heavily creased. Owner's signature on front flyleaf.
First read: 1987-1994
Owned since: 1990
Today is Bloomsday, the day on which all the events of ULYSSES take place. On opposite sides of town, medical student Stephen Dedalus and newspaper adman Leopold Bloom wake up, eat breakfast, and start their separate journeys across Dublin. They meet up, spend some time together, go home.
Nothing much happens in ULYSSES, but it is considered one of the greatest works in the English language. No detail, internal or external, is too small to miss Joyce's notice. His blunt honesty about the things people do and think got ULYSSES banned for obscenity in the United States from its publication date in 1922 to 1933.
My first exposure to ULYSSES was at a live reading in 1987; the director and filmmaker Herbert S. Guggenheim used to stage an annual marathon reading at the Irish Times bar on Capitol Hill. Jammed into this book are programs for the 1990, '92 and '94 readings. ULYSSES is notoriously difficult to read on the page, but rollicking and mesmerizing when read aloud; it's full of puns and internal monologues and snarky asides. I struggled through this book for seven years before I finally got through it, though in that time I would often go back to passages I particularly liked.
Right now I'm listening to it again on audiobook, downloaded in three separate volumes. It takes about 37 hours to read the entire book; Guggenheim's marathons would start on the morning of the 16th and end late in the evening of the following day. At the rate I've been listening, I figure I'll get through this version sometime late in the month. I listen in the morning and the evening, when I walk Dizzy from one side of Gardiner to another, and can't imagine how foolish my face must sometimes look.
James Joyce put everything he had into ULYSSES. Bloomsday itself -- June 16, 1904 -- was the date of his first encounter with Nora Barnacle, who became his lifelong partner. Joyce left Dublin later that year, and never lived there again, but Bloom's and Dedalus's wanderings in ULYSSES are so geographically precise that agencies give walking tours based on the book. (At one point, Bloom wonders whether it would be possible to plot a route across Dublin that would avoid all pubs. I have never been to Dublin, but I assume the answer is no.)
ULYSSES is funny and angry and sad and deeply paranoid, but ends with one of the greatest celebrations of female power and optimism ever written. Bloom, a Jew, is an outsider wherever he goes, and knows that his wife is about to launch an affair. Dedalus, a scholarship student among those wealthier than he, suffers paralyzing guilt over his refusal on principle to pray with his dying mother. Both men are obsessed with what other people think of them, or (as is more often the case) don't.
Joyce gives the final section of the novel to Bloom's wife, Molly, in an extended pre-sleep reverie. Molly, a professional singer, wastes no time worrying about what anyone thinks of her; she reviews and revels in her own experience, her own wants and desires, and her own greed for life: "yes I said yes I will Yes."
While I was reading ULYSSES I also read Richard Ellmann's fine biography of Joyce, and Brenda Maddox's equally good NORA: The Real Life of Molly Bloom. It's fun to see how much of ULYSSES is autobiographical, but not necessary to enjoy the vast pageant that unfolds here. If you're reading it on your own, however, a study guide is essential; I am not ashamed to say that right next to ULYSSES on my bookshelf is the Cliff's Notes guide. It's the only Cliff's Notes I've ever purchased.
First read: 1987-1994
Owned since: 1990
Today is Bloomsday, the day on which all the events of ULYSSES take place. On opposite sides of town, medical student Stephen Dedalus and newspaper adman Leopold Bloom wake up, eat breakfast, and start their separate journeys across Dublin. They meet up, spend some time together, go home.
Nothing much happens in ULYSSES, but it is considered one of the greatest works in the English language. No detail, internal or external, is too small to miss Joyce's notice. His blunt honesty about the things people do and think got ULYSSES banned for obscenity in the United States from its publication date in 1922 to 1933.
My first exposure to ULYSSES was at a live reading in 1987; the director and filmmaker Herbert S. Guggenheim used to stage an annual marathon reading at the Irish Times bar on Capitol Hill. Jammed into this book are programs for the 1990, '92 and '94 readings. ULYSSES is notoriously difficult to read on the page, but rollicking and mesmerizing when read aloud; it's full of puns and internal monologues and snarky asides. I struggled through this book for seven years before I finally got through it, though in that time I would often go back to passages I particularly liked.
Right now I'm listening to it again on audiobook, downloaded in three separate volumes. It takes about 37 hours to read the entire book; Guggenheim's marathons would start on the morning of the 16th and end late in the evening of the following day. At the rate I've been listening, I figure I'll get through this version sometime late in the month. I listen in the morning and the evening, when I walk Dizzy from one side of Gardiner to another, and can't imagine how foolish my face must sometimes look.
James Joyce put everything he had into ULYSSES. Bloomsday itself -- June 16, 1904 -- was the date of his first encounter with Nora Barnacle, who became his lifelong partner. Joyce left Dublin later that year, and never lived there again, but Bloom's and Dedalus's wanderings in ULYSSES are so geographically precise that agencies give walking tours based on the book. (At one point, Bloom wonders whether it would be possible to plot a route across Dublin that would avoid all pubs. I have never been to Dublin, but I assume the answer is no.)
ULYSSES is funny and angry and sad and deeply paranoid, but ends with one of the greatest celebrations of female power and optimism ever written. Bloom, a Jew, is an outsider wherever he goes, and knows that his wife is about to launch an affair. Dedalus, a scholarship student among those wealthier than he, suffers paralyzing guilt over his refusal on principle to pray with his dying mother. Both men are obsessed with what other people think of them, or (as is more often the case) don't.
Joyce gives the final section of the novel to Bloom's wife, Molly, in an extended pre-sleep reverie. Molly, a professional singer, wastes no time worrying about what anyone thinks of her; she reviews and revels in her own experience, her own wants and desires, and her own greed for life: "yes I said yes I will Yes."
While I was reading ULYSSES I also read Richard Ellmann's fine biography of Joyce, and Brenda Maddox's equally good NORA: The Real Life of Molly Bloom. It's fun to see how much of ULYSSES is autobiographical, but not necessary to enjoy the vast pageant that unfolds here. If you're reading it on your own, however, a study guide is essential; I am not ashamed to say that right next to ULYSSES on my bookshelf is the Cliff's Notes guide. It's the only Cliff's Notes I've ever purchased.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
HAVE SPACE SUIT, WILL TRAVEL by Robert A. Heinlein
The Book: Robert A. Heinlein, HAVE SPACE SUIT -- WILL TRAVEL. Pocket Books trade paperback reprint, first printing thus, 2005; originally published 1958. Fine condition.
First read: 1975 (approximately)
Owned since: 2005 (this copy)
Dad gave me my first copy of this book when I was in fourth grade, and I read it to tatters. It was the first science fiction I'd ever read, and was probably the first book I ever read that was written for adults, rather than kids. (I've seen Heinlein's work in the "young adult" sections of bookstores, and that's where this book probably belongs, but he didn't write it that way.)
HAVE SPACE SUIT, WILL TRAVEL is the story of Kip Russell, a hard-working young man whose eccentric father can't (or won't) afford to send him to college. Kip's got big ambitions, though, and when Skyway Soap runs a contest to give someone a trip to the Moon, he puts all his effort into it. He enters 5,782 slogans into Skyway's contest, and his efforts pay off -- not with the grand prize, but with the 11th prize, a used space suit.
Kip could sell it for $500, but decides instead to put it into working order. He cleans it up, repairs it, gets it space-ready -- and then realizes that he needs the money, so gets ready to sell it. First, though, he takes it out for a walk in his family's back field.
While he's standing there in his space suit, a message comes in on his helmet radio: a desperate voice looking for landing instructions. Kip guides the pilot to his backyard, and is stunned to see a small spaceship land, and a bug-eyed monster walk out with a little girl. Within minutes, another, larger ship arrives to snatch up the bug-eyed monster, the little girl -- and Kip.
What follows is classic space adventure, as Kip discovers that the bug-eyed monster is actually an intergalactic political leader, whom the little girl, PeeWee, calls Mother Thing. PeeWee and Mother Thing are trying to escape from kidnappers, and the chase leads all the way to Pluto and back.
HAVE SPACE SUIT was written in 1958, and much of the science is silly -- a crucial scene finds Kip outside on Pluto, dragging himself and the Mother Thing back to a space station there.
At nine, though, I didn't care about that. What this book told me was that I could go as far as I wanted to; crazy luck would reward my hard work, even if that hard work seemed pointless to outsiders. It was a powerful message to give a nine-year-old girl. If I could, I'd make this book required reading in every fifth-grade class.
The universe is just as big as you want it to be, and all you need to explore it is some decent equipment and a couple of friends. That's what my dad taught me when he gave me this book, and he's always been Exhibit A.
Safe journeys, Dad, and thanks -- fair winds and following seas. Send us postcards once in a while. Happy Fathers' Day.
P.S. Dog lovers should check out my cousin Moira's short film about her father's magical performing dog, Minnie, here. Happy Fathers' Day, Uncle Mac!
First read: 1975 (approximately)
Owned since: 2005 (this copy)
Dad gave me my first copy of this book when I was in fourth grade, and I read it to tatters. It was the first science fiction I'd ever read, and was probably the first book I ever read that was written for adults, rather than kids. (I've seen Heinlein's work in the "young adult" sections of bookstores, and that's where this book probably belongs, but he didn't write it that way.)
HAVE SPACE SUIT, WILL TRAVEL is the story of Kip Russell, a hard-working young man whose eccentric father can't (or won't) afford to send him to college. Kip's got big ambitions, though, and when Skyway Soap runs a contest to give someone a trip to the Moon, he puts all his effort into it. He enters 5,782 slogans into Skyway's contest, and his efforts pay off -- not with the grand prize, but with the 11th prize, a used space suit.
Kip could sell it for $500, but decides instead to put it into working order. He cleans it up, repairs it, gets it space-ready -- and then realizes that he needs the money, so gets ready to sell it. First, though, he takes it out for a walk in his family's back field.
While he's standing there in his space suit, a message comes in on his helmet radio: a desperate voice looking for landing instructions. Kip guides the pilot to his backyard, and is stunned to see a small spaceship land, and a bug-eyed monster walk out with a little girl. Within minutes, another, larger ship arrives to snatch up the bug-eyed monster, the little girl -- and Kip.
What follows is classic space adventure, as Kip discovers that the bug-eyed monster is actually an intergalactic political leader, whom the little girl, PeeWee, calls Mother Thing. PeeWee and Mother Thing are trying to escape from kidnappers, and the chase leads all the way to Pluto and back.
HAVE SPACE SUIT was written in 1958, and much of the science is silly -- a crucial scene finds Kip outside on Pluto, dragging himself and the Mother Thing back to a space station there.
At nine, though, I didn't care about that. What this book told me was that I could go as far as I wanted to; crazy luck would reward my hard work, even if that hard work seemed pointless to outsiders. It was a powerful message to give a nine-year-old girl. If I could, I'd make this book required reading in every fifth-grade class.
The universe is just as big as you want it to be, and all you need to explore it is some decent equipment and a couple of friends. That's what my dad taught me when he gave me this book, and he's always been Exhibit A.
Safe journeys, Dad, and thanks -- fair winds and following seas. Send us postcards once in a while. Happy Fathers' Day.
P.S. Dog lovers should check out my cousin Moira's short film about her father's magical performing dog, Minnie, here. Happy Fathers' Day, Uncle Mac!
Friday, June 13, 2008
A cheating entry: AT WEDDINGS AND WAKES by Alice McDermott
The Book: Alice McDermott, AT WEDDINGS AND WAKES. Quality Paperback Book Club edition, 1992. Very good condition (theoretically)
First read: 1992
Owned since: 1992
I can't find my copy of this book, and have a bad feeling that it's gone -- but this is the book I want to write about, dammit, because Tim Russert died today, and he was one of us.
Alice McDermott writes beautiful books about the Irish-American experience, filled with details so intrinsic to my family's life that it would never occur to me to notice them. I never fully understood or appreciated that experience until I started reading her books: the pride, the clannishness, the secrecy and gallantry and fatalism.
Most of all, more than anything, we take care of our own. AT WEDDINGS AND WAKES is the story of three children growing up in New York, learning about life through the gatherings of their family -- as the title suggests, at weddings and wakes. In this book, as in life, great sorrow follows great joy; the joy is surprising, the sorrow is not.
My sorrow over Tim Russert's death has surprised me. I didn't realize how much I admired him, how much I trusted him, how much I counted on him to serve as intermediary between me and the howling maelstrom of American politics.
When I lived in Washington, he was my neighbor, kind of; NBC News was half a mile from my last D.C. house, and it wasn't uncommon to see him and his wife out for dinner. TV personalities are often markedly better or worse looking in person; Tim Russert looked exactly the same on TV and in real life, a big man who would have fit right in on The Muppet Show. His head was enormous, and when he was out in private he walked with a slight ducking motion, trying not to be too conspicuous. But he was always cordial to people who greeted him, and would smile almost sheepishly when people recognized him.
It feels wrong and unfair that this election should happen without him, and I'm almost angry that he won't be here to explain it to us.
Tim Russert was a true Irish-American hero. He worked hard, he made good, he did it right. He earned it. He made us proud.
God, I'll miss him.
First read: 1992
Owned since: 1992
I can't find my copy of this book, and have a bad feeling that it's gone -- but this is the book I want to write about, dammit, because Tim Russert died today, and he was one of us.
Alice McDermott writes beautiful books about the Irish-American experience, filled with details so intrinsic to my family's life that it would never occur to me to notice them. I never fully understood or appreciated that experience until I started reading her books: the pride, the clannishness, the secrecy and gallantry and fatalism.
Most of all, more than anything, we take care of our own. AT WEDDINGS AND WAKES is the story of three children growing up in New York, learning about life through the gatherings of their family -- as the title suggests, at weddings and wakes. In this book, as in life, great sorrow follows great joy; the joy is surprising, the sorrow is not.
My sorrow over Tim Russert's death has surprised me. I didn't realize how much I admired him, how much I trusted him, how much I counted on him to serve as intermediary between me and the howling maelstrom of American politics.
When I lived in Washington, he was my neighbor, kind of; NBC News was half a mile from my last D.C. house, and it wasn't uncommon to see him and his wife out for dinner. TV personalities are often markedly better or worse looking in person; Tim Russert looked exactly the same on TV and in real life, a big man who would have fit right in on The Muppet Show. His head was enormous, and when he was out in private he walked with a slight ducking motion, trying not to be too conspicuous. But he was always cordial to people who greeted him, and would smile almost sheepishly when people recognized him.
It feels wrong and unfair that this election should happen without him, and I'm almost angry that he won't be here to explain it to us.
Tim Russert was a true Irish-American hero. He worked hard, he made good, he did it right. He earned it. He made us proud.
God, I'll miss him.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
MARJORIE MORNINGSTAR by Herman Wouk
The Book: Herman Wouk, MARJORIE MORNINGSTAR. Doubleday, 1955 (first edition). Missing dust jacket. Book is in very good condition; spine is slightly cocked, resale price (80 cents) written in wax pencil on front flyleaf.
First read: 1984
Owned since: 1984
In honor of my friend Matt's birthday today, his favorite book. It's one of my favorites, too; in fact, if you've read this book and it isn't one of your favorites, we will never be true kindred spirits.
MARJORIE MORNINGSTAR is such a perfectly-drawn portrait of a young Jewish woman in 1930s New York that it's hard to believe a man wrote it. It begins with Marjorie Morgenstern, 17, coming home from a college dance and realizing that her destiny is to be a great actress, with a new name: Marjorie Morningstar.
Marjorie is beautiful, talented, kind, and ready to be chewed up and spit out by life. Life does its best, and Marjorie makes some bad choices. She forms an intense friendship with the grasping Marsha, whose parents live on the edge of New York's theatrical society; Marsha sees star quality in Marjorie, and Marjorie is flattered despite her misgivings.
More dangerously, Marjorie falls in love with the brilliant and mercurial Noel Airman, a songwriter, playwright and would-be philosopher who turns out to be the estranged son of a prominent New York Jewish family. Marjorie and Noel battle each other over years, both believing (consciously or unconsciously) that she can save him, whatever that means.
Of course, what Marjorie ultimately realizes is that she can only save herself -- and she does, becoming what she was always meant to be, only better.
MARJORIE MORNINGSTAR is a small story that becomes a big one through the power of literature. I've read it at least 20 times, and still can't figure out the magic that made this Irish Catholic scholarship student, reared in the South, identify so strongly with the New York Jewish girl whose parents nearly beggar themselves to give her everything she wants.
The connection, I think, is that overwhelming desire all bright adolescent girls have to be something more -- to lead a big life rather than a small one, to break free of expectations and dazzle the world with all of that power they suddenly discover in themselves.
In the end, if we're lucky, we become who we're supposed to be, even if it means letting go some of the bigger dreams. That's Marjorie's happy ending, and on Matt's birthday, I wish it for him, and for all of us.
First read: 1984
Owned since: 1984
In honor of my friend Matt's birthday today, his favorite book. It's one of my favorites, too; in fact, if you've read this book and it isn't one of your favorites, we will never be true kindred spirits.
MARJORIE MORNINGSTAR is such a perfectly-drawn portrait of a young Jewish woman in 1930s New York that it's hard to believe a man wrote it. It begins with Marjorie Morgenstern, 17, coming home from a college dance and realizing that her destiny is to be a great actress, with a new name: Marjorie Morningstar.
Marjorie is beautiful, talented, kind, and ready to be chewed up and spit out by life. Life does its best, and Marjorie makes some bad choices. She forms an intense friendship with the grasping Marsha, whose parents live on the edge of New York's theatrical society; Marsha sees star quality in Marjorie, and Marjorie is flattered despite her misgivings.
More dangerously, Marjorie falls in love with the brilliant and mercurial Noel Airman, a songwriter, playwright and would-be philosopher who turns out to be the estranged son of a prominent New York Jewish family. Marjorie and Noel battle each other over years, both believing (consciously or unconsciously) that she can save him, whatever that means.
Of course, what Marjorie ultimately realizes is that she can only save herself -- and she does, becoming what she was always meant to be, only better.
MARJORIE MORNINGSTAR is a small story that becomes a big one through the power of literature. I've read it at least 20 times, and still can't figure out the magic that made this Irish Catholic scholarship student, reared in the South, identify so strongly with the New York Jewish girl whose parents nearly beggar themselves to give her everything she wants.
The connection, I think, is that overwhelming desire all bright adolescent girls have to be something more -- to lead a big life rather than a small one, to break free of expectations and dazzle the world with all of that power they suddenly discover in themselves.
In the end, if we're lucky, we become who we're supposed to be, even if it means letting go some of the bigger dreams. That's Marjorie's happy ending, and on Matt's birthday, I wish it for him, and for all of us.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
THE SOONER SPY by Jim Lehrer
The Book: Jim Lehrer, THE SOONER SPY. Putnam, 1990 (second printing). Inscribed by the author. Fine book in very good dust jacket.
First read: 1990
Owned since: 1994
Newscaster and Renaissance man Jim Lehrer writes mysteries and spy novels, too. This book was an indirect gift from Mr. Lehrer himself, who sent it to me when my friend Lesley, who worked for the NewsHour, told him I was a fan. It's still one of my coolest celebrity semi-encounters. THE SOONER SPY is the third in his series featuring the One-Eyed Mack, a would-be bus driver who somehow winds up being the Lieutenant Governor of Oklahoma.
The plot of THE SOONER SPY -- a search for a Soviet spy rumored to be operating in Oklahoma, for obscure reasons -- is much less important than the book's characters, and the dead-on skewering of small-state politics. I appreciate it even more now, living on the edge of Maine's state capital; in Lehrer's Oklahoma as here, everyone knows everybody else, and the strangest connections wind up being the key to the mystery.
Today's travels will take me around a good bit of northern New England, and I won't be home until very late tonight. And that reminds me, I forgot to charge my iPod. Dang it.
Five Random Songs
"Cumberland Blues," the Grateful Dead. I originally bought this CD only to get "Uncle John's Band," but it's held up very well over time.
"Wooden Ships," Crosby, Stills & Nash. Another theme morning on the shuffle...
"Abie Baby," from the Hair soundtrack. Weirdly, I have had the Hair soundtrack running through my head all week. No idea why.
"We Belong," Lowen & Navarro. The original version of the song Pat Benatar made famous...
"Him Them It Her," from the Lucky Stiff soundtrack, last summer's musical. Did I mention that Bye Bye Birdie opens a week from tomorrow? Make your reservations now.
First read: 1990
Owned since: 1994
Newscaster and Renaissance man Jim Lehrer writes mysteries and spy novels, too. This book was an indirect gift from Mr. Lehrer himself, who sent it to me when my friend Lesley, who worked for the NewsHour, told him I was a fan. It's still one of my coolest celebrity semi-encounters. THE SOONER SPY is the third in his series featuring the One-Eyed Mack, a would-be bus driver who somehow winds up being the Lieutenant Governor of Oklahoma.
The plot of THE SOONER SPY -- a search for a Soviet spy rumored to be operating in Oklahoma, for obscure reasons -- is much less important than the book's characters, and the dead-on skewering of small-state politics. I appreciate it even more now, living on the edge of Maine's state capital; in Lehrer's Oklahoma as here, everyone knows everybody else, and the strangest connections wind up being the key to the mystery.
Today's travels will take me around a good bit of northern New England, and I won't be home until very late tonight. And that reminds me, I forgot to charge my iPod. Dang it.
Five Random Songs
"Cumberland Blues," the Grateful Dead. I originally bought this CD only to get "Uncle John's Band," but it's held up very well over time.
"Wooden Ships," Crosby, Stills & Nash. Another theme morning on the shuffle...
"Abie Baby," from the Hair soundtrack. Weirdly, I have had the Hair soundtrack running through my head all week. No idea why.
"We Belong," Lowen & Navarro. The original version of the song Pat Benatar made famous...
"Him Them It Her," from the Lucky Stiff soundtrack, last summer's musical. Did I mention that Bye Bye Birdie opens a week from tomorrow? Make your reservations now.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
A FOUNTAIN FILLED WITH BLOOD by Julia Spencer-Fleming
The Book: Julia Spencer-Fleming, A FOUNTAIN FILLED WITH BLOOD. Thomas Dunne Books-St. Martin's Minotaur, 2003 (first edition). Signed and dated (11 April 2003). Fine condition.
First read: 2003
Owned since: 2003
It's another one of those weeks in which real life will interfere considerably with maintaining this blog, as I'm not likely to be online much in the next 48 hours. Today's the Maine state primary; tomorrow I'm headed to Portland and then to Boston, to see this fine author and Craig Johnson, respectively, signing their latest books.
This is the second novel in Julia Spencer-Fleming's Millers Kill series; the first is IN THE BLEAK MIDWINTER, but I own it only in paperback, and I keep giving my copies away. The sixth book in the series, I SHALL NOT WANT, is out today -- and because you really should read the earlier books in the series before you pick up that one, Julia's publishers are giving away free e-book editions of the first two books between now and June 13. Click here for details -- and when you've read those books, go buy the later ones from your favorite independent bookstore.
Millers Kill is a small Adirondack town with a female Episcopalian priest, Clare Fergusson, and a strong, upstanding police chief, Russ Van Alystne. Clare is a former Army helicopter pilot who is used to making decisions and taking the consequences; Russ is an Army veteran who would rather not force confrontations. The two are instant soul mates -- a problem, since Russ is married and genuinely loves his wife.
The books do a masterful job of looking at the real issues small towns face, especially small towns in New England. A FOUNTAIN FILLED WITH BLOOD addresses violent prejudice against homosexuality and willful environmental contamination, among other issues.
I'd write more, but I'm late already. I predict that I will be 15 minutes late to everything today. Sigh...
First read: 2003
Owned since: 2003
It's another one of those weeks in which real life will interfere considerably with maintaining this blog, as I'm not likely to be online much in the next 48 hours. Today's the Maine state primary; tomorrow I'm headed to Portland and then to Boston, to see this fine author and Craig Johnson, respectively, signing their latest books.
This is the second novel in Julia Spencer-Fleming's Millers Kill series; the first is IN THE BLEAK MIDWINTER, but I own it only in paperback, and I keep giving my copies away. The sixth book in the series, I SHALL NOT WANT, is out today -- and because you really should read the earlier books in the series before you pick up that one, Julia's publishers are giving away free e-book editions of the first two books between now and June 13. Click here for details -- and when you've read those books, go buy the later ones from your favorite independent bookstore.
Millers Kill is a small Adirondack town with a female Episcopalian priest, Clare Fergusson, and a strong, upstanding police chief, Russ Van Alystne. Clare is a former Army helicopter pilot who is used to making decisions and taking the consequences; Russ is an Army veteran who would rather not force confrontations. The two are instant soul mates -- a problem, since Russ is married and genuinely loves his wife.
The books do a masterful job of looking at the real issues small towns face, especially small towns in New England. A FOUNTAIN FILLED WITH BLOOD addresses violent prejudice against homosexuality and willful environmental contamination, among other issues.
I'd write more, but I'm late already. I predict that I will be 15 minutes late to everything today. Sigh...
Sunday, June 08, 2008
GREEN DARKNESS by Anya Seton
The Book: Anya Seton, GREEN DARKNESS. Houghton Mifflin, 1972 (first edition). Missing dust jacket, book is in fair condition; spine is cocked and loose, binding is broken at p. 22. Resale price (80 cents) written in wax pencil on front flyleaf.
First read: 1977 (approximately)
Owned since: 1980 (best guess)
Yes, I'm alive. Sorry to be missing; I've just been overwhelmed with deadlines, and juggling way too many priorities. I've turned in three cleaned-up manuscripts this week, along with the usual newsletters and quick edit jobs; I had friends visit from out of town; and in case I haven't mentioned it, Gaslight Theater's summer musical, Bye Bye Birdie, opens in less than two weeks.
Oh, and I forgot that middle part, where I actually started the week in Los Angeles.
Sorry, am I sounding defensive? Chalk it up to extreme sleep deprivation, which will continue for at least another day or two -- and the arrival of summer's first heat wave. While the rest of the Eastern seaboard's been frying this week, Maine was unseasonably cool; not today. Our current temperature is 84, which feels hotter when Friday's thermometer didn't break 60. Dizzy will need to go swimming in an hour or two, and I'll be spending most of the afternoon in an air-conditioned auditorium.
Anyway, by the end of this week, things should be back to normal. I hope. I'm looking forward to taking a couple of days off to do some pleasure reading, which I've had no time for. I have three books in progress right now, but finished only one last week, so we'll hold off on the reading list until next Friday.
And now, GREEN DARKNESS. I said the other day, on someone else's blog, that I love a good Gothic, and this is a corker. American heiress (Gothics always need an heir or an heiress) Celia Taylor marries moody Englishman Richard Marsdon, heir to a crumbling Tudor-era manor. Their marital bliss becomes rocky once they return to his home, and things get even worse after Celia has some kind of fit during a visit to a nearby castle, Ightham Mote.
It turns out that Richard and Celia, in this life, are reliving the traumas of their previous incarnations: Brother Stephen Marsdon and his pupil, the beautiful peasant Celia Bohun, whose forbidden love brought violent death to both.
GREEN DARKNESS spends most of its 627 pages in Elizabethan England, telling the story of Stephen and Celia; Richard and Celia's framing device is much less interesting.
I often say that I don't believe in individual reincarnation, but I wish I did. It's easy for me to imagine past lives, and I've dreamt of living in earlier times -- but when it comes down to it, I just can't buy it. The idea that we get endless do-overs through an indefinite number of lives is just too easy an out; it's better for everyone if I assume this turn is my only chance to get it right.
First read: 1977 (approximately)
Owned since: 1980 (best guess)
Yes, I'm alive. Sorry to be missing; I've just been overwhelmed with deadlines, and juggling way too many priorities. I've turned in three cleaned-up manuscripts this week, along with the usual newsletters and quick edit jobs; I had friends visit from out of town; and in case I haven't mentioned it, Gaslight Theater's summer musical, Bye Bye Birdie, opens in less than two weeks.
Oh, and I forgot that middle part, where I actually started the week in Los Angeles.
Sorry, am I sounding defensive? Chalk it up to extreme sleep deprivation, which will continue for at least another day or two -- and the arrival of summer's first heat wave. While the rest of the Eastern seaboard's been frying this week, Maine was unseasonably cool; not today. Our current temperature is 84, which feels hotter when Friday's thermometer didn't break 60. Dizzy will need to go swimming in an hour or two, and I'll be spending most of the afternoon in an air-conditioned auditorium.
Anyway, by the end of this week, things should be back to normal. I hope. I'm looking forward to taking a couple of days off to do some pleasure reading, which I've had no time for. I have three books in progress right now, but finished only one last week, so we'll hold off on the reading list until next Friday.
And now, GREEN DARKNESS. I said the other day, on someone else's blog, that I love a good Gothic, and this is a corker. American heiress (Gothics always need an heir or an heiress) Celia Taylor marries moody Englishman Richard Marsdon, heir to a crumbling Tudor-era manor. Their marital bliss becomes rocky once they return to his home, and things get even worse after Celia has some kind of fit during a visit to a nearby castle, Ightham Mote.
It turns out that Richard and Celia, in this life, are reliving the traumas of their previous incarnations: Brother Stephen Marsdon and his pupil, the beautiful peasant Celia Bohun, whose forbidden love brought violent death to both.
GREEN DARKNESS spends most of its 627 pages in Elizabethan England, telling the story of Stephen and Celia; Richard and Celia's framing device is much less interesting.
I often say that I don't believe in individual reincarnation, but I wish I did. It's easy for me to imagine past lives, and I've dreamt of living in earlier times -- but when it comes down to it, I just can't buy it. The idea that we get endless do-overs through an indefinite number of lives is just too easy an out; it's better for everyone if I assume this turn is my only chance to get it right.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
THE EYRE AFFAIR by Jasper Fforde
The Book: Jasper Fforde, THE EYRE AFFAIR. Viking, 2001 (first U.S. edition). Signed by the author. Fine condition.
First read: 2001
Owned since: 2001
In a world just a little different from our own, the United Kingdom takes literature very, very seriously. Time travel is routine, and it's even possible to visit the worlds of classic novels -- as long as you don't touch anything.
Special Operative Thursday Next of the Literary Detective Division spends most of her time tracking down forgeries and plagiarisms, until a true crisis happens: someone kidnaps Jane Eyre. Thursday Next must chase down the evil genius Acheron Hades before he can wreak permanent havoc on the literary universe; along the way she meets up with the love of her life, who is not as dead as she'd thought.
It's complicated, silly, and very, very funny, the first in a series of novels that have gotten progressively more complicated, even sillier, and even funnier. As with all time-travel novels, it doesn't pay to try to follow them too closely; just strap in and enjoy the ride.
First read: 2001
Owned since: 2001
In a world just a little different from our own, the United Kingdom takes literature very, very seriously. Time travel is routine, and it's even possible to visit the worlds of classic novels -- as long as you don't touch anything.
Special Operative Thursday Next of the Literary Detective Division spends most of her time tracking down forgeries and plagiarisms, until a true crisis happens: someone kidnaps Jane Eyre. Thursday Next must chase down the evil genius Acheron Hades before he can wreak permanent havoc on the literary universe; along the way she meets up with the love of her life, who is not as dead as she'd thought.
It's complicated, silly, and very, very funny, the first in a series of novels that have gotten progressively more complicated, even sillier, and even funnier. As with all time-travel novels, it doesn't pay to try to follow them too closely; just strap in and enjoy the ride.
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
THE LAST GOOD KISS by James Crumley
The Book: James Crumley, THE LAST GOOD KISS. Pocket Books paperback, 1981 (originally published 1978). Fair condition; book is intact but spine and covers are badly creased, spine is cocked, pages are age-browned.
First read: 1987
Owned since: 1987 (best guess)
A very happy birthday to Tom Ehrenfeld, who first recommended this book to me.
And apologies for the lateness of this post, and the absence of yesterday's post. I have no excuse, except to say that redeye flights are a special form of torture, United Airlines is a sad and sorry shadow of what it used to be, and LAX is the ninth circle of hell.
Plus, dammit, it's the future. Where the hell is my jetpack?
I have said before in this space that THE LAST GOOD KISS is one of the best mystery novels of all time. It owes a great deal to Raymond Chandler's THE LONG GOODBYE, though to say more than that would give too much away.
It also has one of the best opening lines of all time: "When I finally caught up with Abraham Traherne, he was drinking beer with an alcoholic bulldog named Fireball Roberts in a ramshackle joint just outside of Sonoma, California, drinking the heart right out of a fine spring afternoon." Abraham Traherne is a famous author and a drunk, and C.W. Sughrue finds him - of course - in a bar. The bar's owner, Rosie, then hires Sughrue to search for her own daughter, Betty Sue Flowers, who disappeared ten years earlier.
Sughrue's search takes him all over the West, from San Francisco to Oregon to Montana, and through the death of the dream of the 1960s. The search overturns a few rocks that might have been best left alone, and Sughrue learns that some questions are best left unanswered. In a lesser author's hands, the twists of THE LAST GOOD KISS might make a reader say, "Aw, no way" -- but Crumley makes it all feel as inexorable as gravity.
Five Random Songs
"Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues," Bob Dylan. Uncannily appropriate theme music for this book. I close my eyes and see a scummy bar, with a jangly piano in the corner.
"Turn Out the Lights and Go to Bed," Lowen & Navarro. A jamming song about insomnia -- I think.
"In This House That I Call Home," The Knitters. The Knitters are a country-and-western incarnation of the punk rock band X, and they rock just as hard. Exene Cervenka rules, and John Doe is still the coolest.
"It's Only Natural," Crowded House. A lot of the happiest songs in my iTunes are about the fun of the first days of a crush. I like having crushes. They're so much easier than trying to keep a real relationship going...
"Like a Vague Memory," Marshall Crenshaw. A wistful song about how relationships end. "A vague memory won't go away/But it won't bring you down/Day after day." What did I just say?
First read: 1987
Owned since: 1987 (best guess)
A very happy birthday to Tom Ehrenfeld, who first recommended this book to me.
And apologies for the lateness of this post, and the absence of yesterday's post. I have no excuse, except to say that redeye flights are a special form of torture, United Airlines is a sad and sorry shadow of what it used to be, and LAX is the ninth circle of hell.
Plus, dammit, it's the future. Where the hell is my jetpack?
I have said before in this space that THE LAST GOOD KISS is one of the best mystery novels of all time. It owes a great deal to Raymond Chandler's THE LONG GOODBYE, though to say more than that would give too much away.
It also has one of the best opening lines of all time: "When I finally caught up with Abraham Traherne, he was drinking beer with an alcoholic bulldog named Fireball Roberts in a ramshackle joint just outside of Sonoma, California, drinking the heart right out of a fine spring afternoon." Abraham Traherne is a famous author and a drunk, and C.W. Sughrue finds him - of course - in a bar. The bar's owner, Rosie, then hires Sughrue to search for her own daughter, Betty Sue Flowers, who disappeared ten years earlier.
Sughrue's search takes him all over the West, from San Francisco to Oregon to Montana, and through the death of the dream of the 1960s. The search overturns a few rocks that might have been best left alone, and Sughrue learns that some questions are best left unanswered. In a lesser author's hands, the twists of THE LAST GOOD KISS might make a reader say, "Aw, no way" -- but Crumley makes it all feel as inexorable as gravity.
Five Random Songs
"Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues," Bob Dylan. Uncannily appropriate theme music for this book. I close my eyes and see a scummy bar, with a jangly piano in the corner.
"Turn Out the Lights and Go to Bed," Lowen & Navarro. A jamming song about insomnia -- I think.
"In This House That I Call Home," The Knitters. The Knitters are a country-and-western incarnation of the punk rock band X, and they rock just as hard. Exene Cervenka rules, and John Doe is still the coolest.
"It's Only Natural," Crowded House. A lot of the happiest songs in my iTunes are about the fun of the first days of a crush. I like having crushes. They're so much easier than trying to keep a real relationship going...
"Like a Vague Memory," Marshall Crenshaw. A wistful song about how relationships end. "A vague memory won't go away/But it won't bring you down/Day after day." What did I just say?
Monday, June 02, 2008
THE EIGHT by Katherine Neville
The Book: Katherine Neville, THE EIGHT. Ballantine Books trade paperback reprint, 2008 (originally published 1988), 32nd printing. As new, inscribed by the author.
First read: 1990
Owned since: 2008 (this copy)
If this blog were "Books I Couldn't Hang On To" instead of "Books I Kept," THE EIGHT would have been my very first post. This is at least the sixth copy of this book I've owned; the others I either gave away or lent out and never got back.
It's okay. It's that kind of book. THE EIGHT is a swashbuckling adventure novel written by a woman for women, though plenty of men love it too. It has everything: history, science, romance, murder. One of the most exciting events at Book Expo America was the release of advance copies of its sequel, THE FIRE, which comes out this fall. Of course I snagged a copy, and am already deep into it; for the rest of you, this new paperback edition of THE EIGHT includes an excerpt.
THE EIGHT is the story of a mystical chess set created for Charlemagne, which carries a formula for eternal life. The set is magical, but also cursed; it is divided up and buried, launching a centuries-long quest to find it.
Catherine Velis, a mathematician and computer expert working for OPEC in the early 1970s, is drawn into the quest before she even realizes what's happening. Her worst enemy, Lily Rad, becomes her best friend as the two women make their way across the Sahara, the Mediterranean and then the Atlantic Ocean in a desperate chase to retrieve the chess pieces before the forces of evil can. The story shifts back and forth in time between Cat and Lily's adventure and the story of the last dispersal of the pieces, during the French Revolution.
My friend and roommate Leigh first read this book, and thrust her copy on me. "You have to read this," she said. I protested; the thing was 600 pages long. "Trust me," she said. "It's like a movie. You won't be able to put it down." She was right, and I've done the same to several friends in the 18 years (18 years!) since.
Twenty years is a long time to wait for a sequel. THE FIRE has much to live up to, but I'm taking it on the plane with me tonight, and it's the first time I've ever looked forward to a red-eye. Five hours of uninterrupted reading time...
First read: 1990
Owned since: 2008 (this copy)
If this blog were "Books I Couldn't Hang On To" instead of "Books I Kept," THE EIGHT would have been my very first post. This is at least the sixth copy of this book I've owned; the others I either gave away or lent out and never got back.
It's okay. It's that kind of book. THE EIGHT is a swashbuckling adventure novel written by a woman for women, though plenty of men love it too. It has everything: history, science, romance, murder. One of the most exciting events at Book Expo America was the release of advance copies of its sequel, THE FIRE, which comes out this fall. Of course I snagged a copy, and am already deep into it; for the rest of you, this new paperback edition of THE EIGHT includes an excerpt.
THE EIGHT is the story of a mystical chess set created for Charlemagne, which carries a formula for eternal life. The set is magical, but also cursed; it is divided up and buried, launching a centuries-long quest to find it.
Catherine Velis, a mathematician and computer expert working for OPEC in the early 1970s, is drawn into the quest before she even realizes what's happening. Her worst enemy, Lily Rad, becomes her best friend as the two women make their way across the Sahara, the Mediterranean and then the Atlantic Ocean in a desperate chase to retrieve the chess pieces before the forces of evil can. The story shifts back and forth in time between Cat and Lily's adventure and the story of the last dispersal of the pieces, during the French Revolution.
My friend and roommate Leigh first read this book, and thrust her copy on me. "You have to read this," she said. I protested; the thing was 600 pages long. "Trust me," she said. "It's like a movie. You won't be able to put it down." She was right, and I've done the same to several friends in the 18 years (18 years!) since.
Twenty years is a long time to wait for a sequel. THE FIRE has much to live up to, but I'm taking it on the plane with me tonight, and it's the first time I've ever looked forward to a red-eye. Five hours of uninterrupted reading time...
Saturday, May 31, 2008
THE BOOK OF LOST THINGS by John Connolly
The Book: John Connolly, THE BOOK OF LOST THINGS. Atria, 2006 (first American edition). Inscribed by the author. Fine condition.
First read: 2006
Owned since: 2006
A bonus post for John today, because it's his birthday; happy birthday, John, and many more to come.
THE BOOK OF LOST THINGS is a most appropriate book to mark anyone's birthday, in fact. It is a story of the transition from childhood to adulthood, a story about how we decide what to keep and what to let go, and how to cope with the fact that we don't always get to keep what we love best.
Just as the Second World War begins, ten-year-old David loses his mother to a long illness -- despite his best efforts to save her, through what feels like magic to him but looks like obsessive-compulsive behavior to the adults around him. David's father remarries a little too quickly, and immediately presents him with a most unwelcome baby brother. David responds by retreating into the world of books, which start to talk to him -- literally, talk to him, even from the shelves of the psychiatrist's office his father takes him to.
David and his family have retreated from the Blitz to a country house, but it is not safe, either. While in his back garden, David is struck by a crashing German airplane that knocks a hole into a different world, a world where David's books are real. David finds himself in that world, and the only person who can help him get back to his own world is its mysterious king, keeper of the magical Book of Lost Things.
David's journey takes him through twisted versions of classic fairy tales, some well-known, some obscure. A dark and disturbing Red Riding Hood has helped to create this world, where half-men/half-wolves hunt in packs. David meets seven socialist dwarfs, who take him home to meet a very different (and hilarious) version of Snow White. Roland, of medieval mythology, helps David, and throughout his journey David feels the comforting presence of a Woodsman watching over him -- while the evil Crooked Man lays traps at every turn.
The eventual discovery of the king and the Book of Lost Things feels both shocking and inevitable -- and David must make the choice that all adults make about what is really important to him, and what he's willing to do to protect that.
I read an advance copy of this book on a visit to Connecticut, staying with friends who live in a 200-year-old farmhouse. My mother had died five months before, and after the first chapter I didn't know if I could finish the book at all. I did, two days later, sitting outside in the sunshine and crying so hard my friend Susan was alarmed. She got a copy of the book from me for Christmas, as did about two dozen of my closest friends and relations.
The greatest books are boxes that hold things even the authors didn't realize they were putting inside. THE BOOK OF LOST THINGS is a treasure chest, and even if John weren't my friend, I'd be grateful to him for it.
First read: 2006
Owned since: 2006
A bonus post for John today, because it's his birthday; happy birthday, John, and many more to come.
THE BOOK OF LOST THINGS is a most appropriate book to mark anyone's birthday, in fact. It is a story of the transition from childhood to adulthood, a story about how we decide what to keep and what to let go, and how to cope with the fact that we don't always get to keep what we love best.
Just as the Second World War begins, ten-year-old David loses his mother to a long illness -- despite his best efforts to save her, through what feels like magic to him but looks like obsessive-compulsive behavior to the adults around him. David's father remarries a little too quickly, and immediately presents him with a most unwelcome baby brother. David responds by retreating into the world of books, which start to talk to him -- literally, talk to him, even from the shelves of the psychiatrist's office his father takes him to.
David and his family have retreated from the Blitz to a country house, but it is not safe, either. While in his back garden, David is struck by a crashing German airplane that knocks a hole into a different world, a world where David's books are real. David finds himself in that world, and the only person who can help him get back to his own world is its mysterious king, keeper of the magical Book of Lost Things.
David's journey takes him through twisted versions of classic fairy tales, some well-known, some obscure. A dark and disturbing Red Riding Hood has helped to create this world, where half-men/half-wolves hunt in packs. David meets seven socialist dwarfs, who take him home to meet a very different (and hilarious) version of Snow White. Roland, of medieval mythology, helps David, and throughout his journey David feels the comforting presence of a Woodsman watching over him -- while the evil Crooked Man lays traps at every turn.
The eventual discovery of the king and the Book of Lost Things feels both shocking and inevitable -- and David must make the choice that all adults make about what is really important to him, and what he's willing to do to protect that.
I read an advance copy of this book on a visit to Connecticut, staying with friends who live in a 200-year-old farmhouse. My mother had died five months before, and after the first chapter I didn't know if I could finish the book at all. I did, two days later, sitting outside in the sunshine and crying so hard my friend Susan was alarmed. She got a copy of the book from me for Christmas, as did about two dozen of my closest friends and relations.
The greatest books are boxes that hold things even the authors didn't realize they were putting inside. THE BOOK OF LOST THINGS is a treasure chest, and even if John weren't my friend, I'd be grateful to him for it.
Friday, May 30, 2008
HARRY POTTER AND THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS by J.K. Rowling
The Book: J. K. Rowling, HARRY POTTER AND THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS. Scholastic, 1999 (third printing). Good condition; dust jacket shows signs of wear, spine is slightly cocked.
First read: 1999
Owned since: 1999
This book was a gift from my friend and colleague Montrice when I left Washington, DC. It was a surprising gift but an oddly appropriate one; I was taking off on an adventure, and Montrice thought I ought to take this book with me. She gave me the second book, rather than the first, because the Harry Potter craze was just taking off, and she couldn't find a copy of the first book in hardcover.
Certain people I admire (you know who you are) are scornful of this series, but I loved it from this first book, and bought every succeeding book as soon as they came out. Harry Potter lives the childhood we all fantasized about, learning magic in a safe place with his closest friends, undistracted by the demands of family. (In the real world, we call this college.) In this book, at least, good and evil are easy to distinguish, mistakes aren't fatal, and justice triumphs if you work for it.
BookExpo starts in earnest today, and I'm already glad I invested in a pair of magic shoes for the event. I'm only half-kidding; at the recommendation of a friend, I spent a frightening amount of money on a pair of Masai Barefoot Technology sandals. They force me into better posture and take pressure off my knees, which is going to be essential this weekend.
Because the soles are curved, they also make me look like a Weeble.
"They're supposed to make me walk like an African warrior," I told Grace Lechner.
"Fast or slow?" she asked.
Sometimes I miss the point...
What I Read This Week
Jennifer Kaufman and Karen Mack, LITERACY AND LONGING IN L.A. Anna lent this book to me ages ago, and I finally got around to it over the holiday weekend. Unapologetic chick lit about thirty-something Dora, beautiful, wealthy, separated from her husband and taking refuge from her life in books. Dora reads too much; she hooks up with a clerk from Brentwood's best independent bookstore (renamed here, which upset me because its real-life model, Dutton's, is now history); she realizes she needs to snap out of it and grow up. Easy on the eyes, easy on the mind, nothing but cotton candy -- and sometimes, that's just fine.
Denise Hamilton, THE LAST EMBRACE. A mystery set in 1949 Los Angeles, as former OSS agent Lily Kessler comes home to look for her late fiance's sister, an actress who's gone missing. The young woman's been killed, and the police seem too corrupt to investigate adequately. Period details about Los Angeles are the fun of this book, and it's interesting to compare THE LAST EMBRACE with Megan Abbott's THE SONG IS YOU, a very different novel inspired by the same real-life crime: the never-solved murder of actress Jean Spangler. I read an advance copy; the book comes out in July.
Tom Rob Smith, CHILD 44. I started to read this book in April, then set it aside because its grimness overwhelmed me. I'm glad I finished it, because it's a very impressive debut, but it is not a light-hearted read. In Stalinist Russia, state security operative Leo Demidov believes he is working to protect the state -- until, in quick succession, he is forced to bully a grieving father into calling his son's death an accident instead of murder, and he is asked to denounce his own wife as a counterrevolutionary. Exiled to a remote factory town, Demidov finds evidence that the child's death is one of dozens of similar murders, and tracks the killer down without regard to his own danger, or his family's. CHILD 44 is a book that deserves to be read and discussed at length, raising many questions about the effects of corruption and totalitarianism on the most fundamental human values.
First read: 1999
Owned since: 1999
This book was a gift from my friend and colleague Montrice when I left Washington, DC. It was a surprising gift but an oddly appropriate one; I was taking off on an adventure, and Montrice thought I ought to take this book with me. She gave me the second book, rather than the first, because the Harry Potter craze was just taking off, and she couldn't find a copy of the first book in hardcover.
Certain people I admire (you know who you are) are scornful of this series, but I loved it from this first book, and bought every succeeding book as soon as they came out. Harry Potter lives the childhood we all fantasized about, learning magic in a safe place with his closest friends, undistracted by the demands of family. (In the real world, we call this college.) In this book, at least, good and evil are easy to distinguish, mistakes aren't fatal, and justice triumphs if you work for it.
BookExpo starts in earnest today, and I'm already glad I invested in a pair of magic shoes for the event. I'm only half-kidding; at the recommendation of a friend, I spent a frightening amount of money on a pair of Masai Barefoot Technology sandals. They force me into better posture and take pressure off my knees, which is going to be essential this weekend.
Because the soles are curved, they also make me look like a Weeble.
"They're supposed to make me walk like an African warrior," I told Grace Lechner.
"Fast or slow?" she asked.
Sometimes I miss the point...
What I Read This Week
Jennifer Kaufman and Karen Mack, LITERACY AND LONGING IN L.A. Anna lent this book to me ages ago, and I finally got around to it over the holiday weekend. Unapologetic chick lit about thirty-something Dora, beautiful, wealthy, separated from her husband and taking refuge from her life in books. Dora reads too much; she hooks up with a clerk from Brentwood's best independent bookstore (renamed here, which upset me because its real-life model, Dutton's, is now history); she realizes she needs to snap out of it and grow up. Easy on the eyes, easy on the mind, nothing but cotton candy -- and sometimes, that's just fine.
Denise Hamilton, THE LAST EMBRACE. A mystery set in 1949 Los Angeles, as former OSS agent Lily Kessler comes home to look for her late fiance's sister, an actress who's gone missing. The young woman's been killed, and the police seem too corrupt to investigate adequately. Period details about Los Angeles are the fun of this book, and it's interesting to compare THE LAST EMBRACE with Megan Abbott's THE SONG IS YOU, a very different novel inspired by the same real-life crime: the never-solved murder of actress Jean Spangler. I read an advance copy; the book comes out in July.
Tom Rob Smith, CHILD 44. I started to read this book in April, then set it aside because its grimness overwhelmed me. I'm glad I finished it, because it's a very impressive debut, but it is not a light-hearted read. In Stalinist Russia, state security operative Leo Demidov believes he is working to protect the state -- until, in quick succession, he is forced to bully a grieving father into calling his son's death an accident instead of murder, and he is asked to denounce his own wife as a counterrevolutionary. Exiled to a remote factory town, Demidov finds evidence that the child's death is one of dozens of similar murders, and tracks the killer down without regard to his own danger, or his family's. CHILD 44 is a book that deserves to be read and discussed at length, raising many questions about the effects of corruption and totalitarianism on the most fundamental human values.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
A HELL OF A WOMAN edited by Megan Abbott
The Book: Megan Abbott, ed., A HELL OF A WOMAN: An Anthology of Female Noir. Busted Flush Press, 2007 (first edition). Signed by 9 contributors. Fine condition.
First read: 2007
Owned since: 2007
In Los Angeles for Book Expo America, staying with my friends Linda and Tim. Therefore, all posts for the next few days will be books both Linda and I own...
My closest friends tell me, with some regularity, that I am judgmental. I am. It's taken me 42 years, but I'm not going to apologize for it anymore.
Almost nothing makes me write someone off faster than the statement, "I don't really read books -- I read magazines." Through long experience and considerable effort, I've managed to overcome that in a handful of cases -- I do have a handful of friends and close associates who don't read books -- but for the most part, I just can't figure out what I might possibly have in common with anyone who doesn't appreciate a good book.
This is a book for people who don't read books. It's a collection of fierce, scary, funny and heartbreaking short stories by and about women on the edge, followed by an equally impressive collection of short nonfiction about the Women of Noir -- authors, actresses, characters. Pieces in this collection range from half a page to about 23 pages, and if you can't find something to entertain you here, I give up.
You can start an argument among any group of crime fiction fans by 1) asking for a definition of noir or 2) asserting that women don't or can't write in the noir tradition. Here's the thing: according to my definition of noir, the protagonist of the story needs to be an outsider, and you just don't find as many women writing about the outsider experience. That's changing, but the fact remains that women tend to gather together, with friends or family, and rarely assert their desires above the needs of the group. That conviction -- that one's own needs and wants trump society's -- is the heart of noir, and that's why we don't see a lot of noir written by or about women.
But it has nothing to do with interest or ability, and the heroines of classic noir are the most memorable characters. Who remembers the name of Glenn Ford's character in Gilda, or the name of the detective in Laura? Not I.
My favorite story in this collection is Alison Gaylin's "Cherish," about an obsessed fan. It is possible, Alison points out, to want to belong so badly that this desire itself makes you an outsider. That's an insight you wouldn't get from a male author.
First read: 2007
Owned since: 2007
In Los Angeles for Book Expo America, staying with my friends Linda and Tim. Therefore, all posts for the next few days will be books both Linda and I own...
My closest friends tell me, with some regularity, that I am judgmental. I am. It's taken me 42 years, but I'm not going to apologize for it anymore.
Almost nothing makes me write someone off faster than the statement, "I don't really read books -- I read magazines." Through long experience and considerable effort, I've managed to overcome that in a handful of cases -- I do have a handful of friends and close associates who don't read books -- but for the most part, I just can't figure out what I might possibly have in common with anyone who doesn't appreciate a good book.
This is a book for people who don't read books. It's a collection of fierce, scary, funny and heartbreaking short stories by and about women on the edge, followed by an equally impressive collection of short nonfiction about the Women of Noir -- authors, actresses, characters. Pieces in this collection range from half a page to about 23 pages, and if you can't find something to entertain you here, I give up.
You can start an argument among any group of crime fiction fans by 1) asking for a definition of noir or 2) asserting that women don't or can't write in the noir tradition. Here's the thing: according to my definition of noir, the protagonist of the story needs to be an outsider, and you just don't find as many women writing about the outsider experience. That's changing, but the fact remains that women tend to gather together, with friends or family, and rarely assert their desires above the needs of the group. That conviction -- that one's own needs and wants trump society's -- is the heart of noir, and that's why we don't see a lot of noir written by or about women.
But it has nothing to do with interest or ability, and the heroines of classic noir are the most memorable characters. Who remembers the name of Glenn Ford's character in Gilda, or the name of the detective in Laura? Not I.
My favorite story in this collection is Alison Gaylin's "Cherish," about an obsessed fan. It is possible, Alison points out, to want to belong so badly that this desire itself makes you an outsider. That's an insight you wouldn't get from a male author.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
BRIDGET JONES'S DIARY by Helen Fielding
The Book: Helen Fielding, BRIDGET JONES'S DIARY. Penguin trade paperback reprint (11th printing), 2001. Very good condition; upper left-hand corner of front cover has faint crease.
First read: 2000
Owned since: 2005 (this copy)
You could only have missed the Bridget Jones phenomenon if you were living in a cave between the years of 1997 (in England) and 2003 (in the U.S.). Helen Fielding's heroine is still the icon of what people call "chick lit," and I didn't want to read the book when I saw it under my cousin Sheila's coffee table, sometime after I'd moved to Los Angeles.
"Oh, it's darling," someone said -- it might have been my cousin Moira, it might have been our friend Maeve. "It's really fun."
So I picked it up, started reading, and couldn't put it down. In fact, years later, I needed to buy my own copy so I could reread it, just for a quick escape. I bought the sequel, too. I saw the first movie in the theater (with Moira), the week it came out. And I am not ashamed.
If you haven't read it, BRIDGET JONES'S DIARY is a riff on Pride and Prejudice, updated for the late 20th century and told in the first person as a series of journal entries. Bridget is insecure, a spendthrift, obsessed about her weight, hopeless with money, but devoted to her friends and still optimistic about the possibility of finding true love. She's neurotic about small stuff but deals with genuine crises fairly well (a conceit that works better here than in the sequel, THE EDGE OF REASON).
I'm off to Los Angeles today for BookExpo America. I'll keep posting, but can't make any promises about the schedule.
Five Random Songs
"Transmission," Joy Division. I own this song in a couple of formats, but this version is from a CD collection of producer Martin Hammett's work. (If you haven't seen 24-Hour Party People, I recommend it.)
"June," Pete Yorn. I wonder why I never bought any more of his work; I really loved this first album.
"Coughing Up Blood," Marah. From their latest CD, Angels of Destruction. I discovered this band on a Bruce Springsteen tribute album, and they're just great, working-class rock. They deserve to be huge.
"Blood and Roses," The Smithereens. Ooh, a tuberculosis-themed set...
"Chasing After Deer," Midlake. The Trials of Van Occupanther might have been my favorite album of 2006 (not that I bought many); Midlake doesn't sound like anyone else.
First read: 2000
Owned since: 2005 (this copy)
You could only have missed the Bridget Jones phenomenon if you were living in a cave between the years of 1997 (in England) and 2003 (in the U.S.). Helen Fielding's heroine is still the icon of what people call "chick lit," and I didn't want to read the book when I saw it under my cousin Sheila's coffee table, sometime after I'd moved to Los Angeles.
"Oh, it's darling," someone said -- it might have been my cousin Moira, it might have been our friend Maeve. "It's really fun."
So I picked it up, started reading, and couldn't put it down. In fact, years later, I needed to buy my own copy so I could reread it, just for a quick escape. I bought the sequel, too. I saw the first movie in the theater (with Moira), the week it came out. And I am not ashamed.
If you haven't read it, BRIDGET JONES'S DIARY is a riff on Pride and Prejudice, updated for the late 20th century and told in the first person as a series of journal entries. Bridget is insecure, a spendthrift, obsessed about her weight, hopeless with money, but devoted to her friends and still optimistic about the possibility of finding true love. She's neurotic about small stuff but deals with genuine crises fairly well (a conceit that works better here than in the sequel, THE EDGE OF REASON).
I'm off to Los Angeles today for BookExpo America. I'll keep posting, but can't make any promises about the schedule.
Five Random Songs
"Transmission," Joy Division. I own this song in a couple of formats, but this version is from a CD collection of producer Martin Hammett's work. (If you haven't seen 24-Hour Party People, I recommend it.)
"June," Pete Yorn. I wonder why I never bought any more of his work; I really loved this first album.
"Coughing Up Blood," Marah. From their latest CD, Angels of Destruction. I discovered this band on a Bruce Springsteen tribute album, and they're just great, working-class rock. They deserve to be huge.
"Blood and Roses," The Smithereens. Ooh, a tuberculosis-themed set...
"Chasing After Deer," Midlake. The Trials of Van Occupanther might have been my favorite album of 2006 (not that I bought many); Midlake doesn't sound like anyone else.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
THE STAND by Stephen King
The Book: Stephen King, THE STAND: The Complete and Uncut Edition. Doubleday, 1990 (third printing). Good book in good dust jacket; spine is cocked, jacket is creased, book shows signs of exposure to damp.
First read: 1990 (this version)
Owned since: 1990
You have your ideas about vacation reading, I have mine: a 1,140-page epic about a deadly virus and the end of the world. Read today, elements of THE STAND are eerily prescient; a mutating virus wipes out most of the world's population, and those who remain separate themselves into communities representing good and evil. Although most of the country is empty, it's still not big enough for the two of them. THE STAND takes its title from Bruce Springsteen's "Jungleland": "And in the quick of the night/They reach for their moment/And try to make an honest stand..."
I bought this book specifically to take on vacation, a week I spent on an island off the southern coast of North Carolina. The man I was dating at the time was unfamiliar with the jargon of beach rentals. He nearly blew a gasket when he discovered that "ocean view" did not mean "beachfront;" but we were across the street from the beach, which as far as I was concerned, was even better. Not as damp. People who grow up by the water don't feel romantic about it; I can't stand the smell of mildew or that feeling of constant damp and salt scum.
But I digress. Many Stephen King fans consider THE STAND his finest work. I'd have agreed with them, if he'd never published this version. I keep this copy to remind me that, quite often, less is more.
King explains in the foreword to this edition that it is an expansion of the version first published in 1978. Four hundred pages of the original manuscript were cut from that version, not for editorial reasons but because King's publishers felt that readers wouldn't buy a book that cost as much as they'd have to charge for it. For this edition, King put those 400 pages back, and made a few changes to update the story, which was set (at the time) in the near future of the early 1990s.
I bought this edition, I read it and I kept it and I don't begrudge the time or the money, because I admire Stephen King, and he's given me many hours of pleasure -- but if you haven't read this book, my advice would be to visit www.abebooks.com in search of the 1978 edition. It's long enough, at 700+ pages, but feels leaner and faster, and is not missing anything major. If you love it as much as I did, you might want to read this version later, in the same way you'd watch "Deleted Scenes" on a DVD.
In any event, read either version of the book before you watch any of the TV versions. The only reliable adaptor of Stephen King's work is William Goldman; if and when he decides to tackle THE STAND, I'll watch that one.
First read: 1990 (this version)
Owned since: 1990
You have your ideas about vacation reading, I have mine: a 1,140-page epic about a deadly virus and the end of the world. Read today, elements of THE STAND are eerily prescient; a mutating virus wipes out most of the world's population, and those who remain separate themselves into communities representing good and evil. Although most of the country is empty, it's still not big enough for the two of them. THE STAND takes its title from Bruce Springsteen's "Jungleland": "And in the quick of the night/They reach for their moment/And try to make an honest stand..."
I bought this book specifically to take on vacation, a week I spent on an island off the southern coast of North Carolina. The man I was dating at the time was unfamiliar with the jargon of beach rentals. He nearly blew a gasket when he discovered that "ocean view" did not mean "beachfront;" but we were across the street from the beach, which as far as I was concerned, was even better. Not as damp. People who grow up by the water don't feel romantic about it; I can't stand the smell of mildew or that feeling of constant damp and salt scum.
But I digress. Many Stephen King fans consider THE STAND his finest work. I'd have agreed with them, if he'd never published this version. I keep this copy to remind me that, quite often, less is more.
King explains in the foreword to this edition that it is an expansion of the version first published in 1978. Four hundred pages of the original manuscript were cut from that version, not for editorial reasons but because King's publishers felt that readers wouldn't buy a book that cost as much as they'd have to charge for it. For this edition, King put those 400 pages back, and made a few changes to update the story, which was set (at the time) in the near future of the early 1990s.
I bought this edition, I read it and I kept it and I don't begrudge the time or the money, because I admire Stephen King, and he's given me many hours of pleasure -- but if you haven't read this book, my advice would be to visit www.abebooks.com in search of the 1978 edition. It's long enough, at 700+ pages, but feels leaner and faster, and is not missing anything major. If you love it as much as I did, you might want to read this version later, in the same way you'd watch "Deleted Scenes" on a DVD.
In any event, read either version of the book before you watch any of the TV versions. The only reliable adaptor of Stephen King's work is William Goldman; if and when he decides to tackle THE STAND, I'll watch that one.
Monday, May 26, 2008
BAD MEN by John Connolly
The Book: John Connolly, BAD MEN. Hodder & Stoughton, 2003 (U.K. first edition). Inscribed and dated by the author (April 25, 2004). Fine condition.
First read: 2004
Owned since: 2004
An obvious choice today, since I spent yesterday on Peaks Island, which inspired the fictional setting of this book: Dutch Island, formerly known as Sanctuary.
Sanctuary's resident policeman, the giant Melancholy Joe Dupree, protects the island from external and internal threats, but the island has secret defenses of its own. Marianne Elliot and her son, Danny, have come to the island for sanctuary, running from a man whose evil even Marianne doesn't fully understand.
That man, Moloch, is Danny's father, and determined to do whatever's necessary to reclaim his own. He enlists the help of other men just as bad as himself, and forces a final, deadly confrontation on the shores of Dutch Island.
BAD MEN is a thriller and a ghost story, a tale to be spun out over nights in a dark, isolated place.
It is also a story of heroism and the obligations of family and community. This morning I took the book off the shelf and hesitated, thinking I might better choose a book appropriate for Memorial Day. But, without spoiling the book, it too is about the sacrifices that heroes are willing to make for their homes and families.
Later this morning, I'll walk over to the Common for the day's ceremony. A monument there honors Gardiner's war dead; a band will play, and a color guard will salute them. May they and all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.
First read: 2004
Owned since: 2004
An obvious choice today, since I spent yesterday on Peaks Island, which inspired the fictional setting of this book: Dutch Island, formerly known as Sanctuary.
Sanctuary's resident policeman, the giant Melancholy Joe Dupree, protects the island from external and internal threats, but the island has secret defenses of its own. Marianne Elliot and her son, Danny, have come to the island for sanctuary, running from a man whose evil even Marianne doesn't fully understand.
That man, Moloch, is Danny's father, and determined to do whatever's necessary to reclaim his own. He enlists the help of other men just as bad as himself, and forces a final, deadly confrontation on the shores of Dutch Island.
BAD MEN is a thriller and a ghost story, a tale to be spun out over nights in a dark, isolated place.
It is also a story of heroism and the obligations of family and community. This morning I took the book off the shelf and hesitated, thinking I might better choose a book appropriate for Memorial Day. But, without spoiling the book, it too is about the sacrifices that heroes are willing to make for their homes and families.
Later this morning, I'll walk over to the Common for the day's ceremony. A monument there honors Gardiner's war dead; a band will play, and a color guard will salute them. May they and all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
WHACK A MOLE by Chris Grabenstein
The Book: Chris Grabenstein, WHACK A MOLE. Carroll & Graf, 2007 (signed first edition). Fine condition.
First read: 2007
Owned since: 2007
It's a holiday weekend, the beginning of summer, and the week ahead will be "books to read on vacation." In many ways, my whole life is one long vacation; in other ways, I never get a real day off. I've been juggling a few too many things this week, and meant to spent today catching up, but instead took a long walk followed by a long nap. No holiday for me on Monday...
Anyway, this book is the most recent in one of my favorite series. Officer John Ceepak is an Iraq veteran who returns to civilian life with the police force of Sea Haven, New Jersey. As seen by his (very junior) partner, Danny Boyle, he's larger than life: an old-fashioned hero who does not lie, cheat, steal, or tolerate those who do. Boyle narrates these books, in the time-honored tradition of Sherlock Holmes's Watson, Poirot's Hastings and Nero Wolfe's Archie Goodwin.
WHACK A MOLE starts with Ceepak's discovery of a ring that belonged to a young woman who had disappeared many years before -- which leads to the discovery that, unbeknownst to anyone, a serial killer has been stalking Sea Haven for decades.
The books in this series are deceptively straightforward, but brilliant on so many levels. Each one bears the title of a carnival ride, and Grabenstein's voice, as Danny the narrator, is perfect: a little naive, a little wiseass, fundamentally kind and respectful, growing older and wiser with each book. Danny stands in for us, the reader, and never allows the crimes to be trivialized.
Having grown up in Virginia Beach myself, I especially appreciate the powerful metaphor of setting these books in a fictional resort town: most people might just visit on vacation, but some of us live there -- and it's all fun and games until someone gets hurt.
I've always lived in places that were tourist attractions -- Virginia Beach, Washington, Los Angeles, and now an entire state that calls itself "Vacationland." People come and go, and aren't always respectful of the places they visit. Locals resent tourists for a reason, even though tourists make it possible for locals to live in these places year-round. Grabenstein captures that perfectly, too, but never takes the easy way out by pinning all unpleasantness on the people from away.
Tomorrow I'm going out to Peaks Island for the day, and will be a tourist myself. I promise to be careful and polite.
What I Read This Week
I'm in full-on Editor Mode this week, and it's hard for me to read anything because I can't turn off the blue pencil in my head. Neither of these books needed any help from me.
Robert Crais, CHASING DARKNESS. An advance copy of the next Elvis Cole novel, due out in July; put this one on your summer reading list. Elvis learns that a man he helped clear of murder charges has been discovered dead, with a photo album of half-a-dozen murder victims on his lap. The last two victims were killed after Elvis produced evidence to clear him; did Elvis make a mistake that cost two women their lives? The plot twists ingeniously, speeding toward a shocking conclusion.
Tana French, THE LIKENESS. Since I read her first novel (Edgar winner IN THE WOODS) so recently, it startled me that French's second novel should follow so soon, or be so ambitious. Cassie Maddox, the partner of the main character of IN THE WOODS, agrees to go undercover to investigate the murder of a young woman who bears an uncanny resemblance to her. Even stranger, the victim had stolen the identity of an undercover alias Cassie had used years before. The prime suspects are the victim's housemates, graduate students who have formed a tightly-knit surrogate family; Cassie not only convinces them of her new identity, but begins to embrace it herself. Deeply emotional, harrowing and sad, THE LIKENESS begs comparison with Donna Tartt's THE SECRET HISTORY and Kevin Wignall's AMONG THE DEAD, but establishes French firmly as a serious writer doing lasting work.
First read: 2007
Owned since: 2007
It's a holiday weekend, the beginning of summer, and the week ahead will be "books to read on vacation." In many ways, my whole life is one long vacation; in other ways, I never get a real day off. I've been juggling a few too many things this week, and meant to spent today catching up, but instead took a long walk followed by a long nap. No holiday for me on Monday...
Anyway, this book is the most recent in one of my favorite series. Officer John Ceepak is an Iraq veteran who returns to civilian life with the police force of Sea Haven, New Jersey. As seen by his (very junior) partner, Danny Boyle, he's larger than life: an old-fashioned hero who does not lie, cheat, steal, or tolerate those who do. Boyle narrates these books, in the time-honored tradition of Sherlock Holmes's Watson, Poirot's Hastings and Nero Wolfe's Archie Goodwin.
WHACK A MOLE starts with Ceepak's discovery of a ring that belonged to a young woman who had disappeared many years before -- which leads to the discovery that, unbeknownst to anyone, a serial killer has been stalking Sea Haven for decades.
The books in this series are deceptively straightforward, but brilliant on so many levels. Each one bears the title of a carnival ride, and Grabenstein's voice, as Danny the narrator, is perfect: a little naive, a little wiseass, fundamentally kind and respectful, growing older and wiser with each book. Danny stands in for us, the reader, and never allows the crimes to be trivialized.
Having grown up in Virginia Beach myself, I especially appreciate the powerful metaphor of setting these books in a fictional resort town: most people might just visit on vacation, but some of us live there -- and it's all fun and games until someone gets hurt.
I've always lived in places that were tourist attractions -- Virginia Beach, Washington, Los Angeles, and now an entire state that calls itself "Vacationland." People come and go, and aren't always respectful of the places they visit. Locals resent tourists for a reason, even though tourists make it possible for locals to live in these places year-round. Grabenstein captures that perfectly, too, but never takes the easy way out by pinning all unpleasantness on the people from away.
Tomorrow I'm going out to Peaks Island for the day, and will be a tourist myself. I promise to be careful and polite.
What I Read This Week
I'm in full-on Editor Mode this week, and it's hard for me to read anything because I can't turn off the blue pencil in my head. Neither of these books needed any help from me.
Robert Crais, CHASING DARKNESS. An advance copy of the next Elvis Cole novel, due out in July; put this one on your summer reading list. Elvis learns that a man he helped clear of murder charges has been discovered dead, with a photo album of half-a-dozen murder victims on his lap. The last two victims were killed after Elvis produced evidence to clear him; did Elvis make a mistake that cost two women their lives? The plot twists ingeniously, speeding toward a shocking conclusion.
Tana French, THE LIKENESS. Since I read her first novel (Edgar winner IN THE WOODS) so recently, it startled me that French's second novel should follow so soon, or be so ambitious. Cassie Maddox, the partner of the main character of IN THE WOODS, agrees to go undercover to investigate the murder of a young woman who bears an uncanny resemblance to her. Even stranger, the victim had stolen the identity of an undercover alias Cassie had used years before. The prime suspects are the victim's housemates, graduate students who have formed a tightly-knit surrogate family; Cassie not only convinces them of her new identity, but begins to embrace it herself. Deeply emotional, harrowing and sad, THE LIKENESS begs comparison with Donna Tartt's THE SECRET HISTORY and Kevin Wignall's AMONG THE DEAD, but establishes French firmly as a serious writer doing lasting work.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
A SHORT HISTORY OF FINANCIAL EUPHORIA by John Kenneth Galbraith
The Book: John Kenneth Galbraith, A SHORT HISTORY OF FINANCIAL EUPHORIA. Whittle Books/Viking, 1993 (first edition). Fine condition.
First read: 1994
Owned since: 1994
Yesterday morning I did not buy oranges, because they cost almost a dollar apiece. Last week I did not go to the opening reception for the Maine Festival of the Book, because it's a hundred-mile round trip from here to Portland, and I had already spent more than $140 on gas that week.
Hard times are not quite here -- for me, at least -- but things are getting worse. It was inevitable, and the only consolation is that if we can all hang on, things will inevitably get better again.
I bought this book in the wake of the last major downturn, in the early 1990s. If you can remember back that far, the issues were similar: collapsing real estate values, overextended credit followed by a credit crunch, high fuel costs, general anxiety. By 1994, when this book came out, the seeds of recovery were already sprouting.
Economist John Kenneth Galbraith offers this short book (110 pages) to illuminate the causes of the recession that began in 1990. In his preface, Galbraith describes the "speculative excess and collapse" of the 1980s: real estate, junk bonds, interest rate deregulation, etc. "Public confidence was shaken, corporate investment was curtailed, troubled banks were forced to restrict lending, workers were discharged and corporate executives and bureaucrats shed."
Sound familiar? It was ever thus, says Galbraith. He walks us through several earlier cycles of excess and collapse: 17th-century tulipomania, John Law's Banque Royal, the infamous South Sea Bubble, the 1920s Florida land boom, and of course the Crash of 1929.
So why don't we ever learn? Well, it's human nature. "Individuals and institutions are captured by the wondrous satisfaction from accruing wealth," writes Galbraith, and with that goes this idea that if you're making money, you must be doing something smart. In fact, most people would say that making lots of money is the only real proof of intelligence. (Donald Trump would agree.)
But making money takes as much luck as skill, and as we've seen, it's possible to be too smart for one's own good (ask Jeff Skilling).
And no one's immune to the basic principles of physics, which apply both above and below. When I was in college, a sign in a friend's bathroom summed it up: Gravity -- it's not just a good idea, it's the law.
First read: 1994
Owned since: 1994
Yesterday morning I did not buy oranges, because they cost almost a dollar apiece. Last week I did not go to the opening reception for the Maine Festival of the Book, because it's a hundred-mile round trip from here to Portland, and I had already spent more than $140 on gas that week.
Hard times are not quite here -- for me, at least -- but things are getting worse. It was inevitable, and the only consolation is that if we can all hang on, things will inevitably get better again.
I bought this book in the wake of the last major downturn, in the early 1990s. If you can remember back that far, the issues were similar: collapsing real estate values, overextended credit followed by a credit crunch, high fuel costs, general anxiety. By 1994, when this book came out, the seeds of recovery were already sprouting.
Economist John Kenneth Galbraith offers this short book (110 pages) to illuminate the causes of the recession that began in 1990. In his preface, Galbraith describes the "speculative excess and collapse" of the 1980s: real estate, junk bonds, interest rate deregulation, etc. "Public confidence was shaken, corporate investment was curtailed, troubled banks were forced to restrict lending, workers were discharged and corporate executives and bureaucrats shed."
Sound familiar? It was ever thus, says Galbraith. He walks us through several earlier cycles of excess and collapse: 17th-century tulipomania, John Law's Banque Royal, the infamous South Sea Bubble, the 1920s Florida land boom, and of course the Crash of 1929.
So why don't we ever learn? Well, it's human nature. "Individuals and institutions are captured by the wondrous satisfaction from accruing wealth," writes Galbraith, and with that goes this idea that if you're making money, you must be doing something smart. In fact, most people would say that making lots of money is the only real proof of intelligence. (Donald Trump would agree.)
But making money takes as much luck as skill, and as we've seen, it's possible to be too smart for one's own good (ask Jeff Skilling).
And no one's immune to the basic principles of physics, which apply both above and below. When I was in college, a sign in a friend's bathroom summed it up: Gravity -- it's not just a good idea, it's the law.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
DON'T KNOW MUCH ABOUT HISTORY by Kenneth C. Davis
The Book: Kenneth C. Davis, DON'T KNOW MUCH ABOUT HISTORY: Everything You Need to Know about American History but Never Learned. Avon trade paperback, 1991 (16th printing). Very good condition; pages show some age-related browning, cover is slightly discolored.
First read: 1992
Owned since: 1991
One Sunday when I was five or six years old, I was fidgeting on a kneeler in church and looking at the date on a hymnal, which was some year before I was born. Until that moment, it had never occurred to me that the world had existed before I did -- that St. Leo's and my parents and all sorts of things had been in operation before I arrived, and that there had been a time when I did not exist. The thought of it made me dizzy. I closed my eyes and saw black-and-yellow checks behind my eyelids (so vivid that I still remember what they looked like).
After church, I asked my mother where I had been before I was born. "In the mind of God," she said.
That's all very well from a theological point of view, but I've never been able to shake the feeling that I walked into the party late, and still need to catch up on everything that happened before I got here.
I like lists, I like trivia, and -- as my research clients know -- I like timelines. This book combines all three of those things, so no wonder I used a gift certificate I got for Christmas 1991 to buy this.
Kenneth C. Davis is a "serious" historian who decided to put the essential information about the United States' founding and growth into a book anyone could pick up and read -- a book you might even keep in the bathroom, as it's written in short, entertaining question-and-answer chunks. This was the first of his "Don't Know Much About" books; he went on to turn it into a franchise that covers everything from mythology to astronomy.
This book strikes a nice balance, dispelling conventional wisdom without having any particular axe to grind. Davis, for example, gives the Comte de Rochambeau the credit he deserves for coordinating the naval confrontation that forced the British surrender at Yorktown; he notes the many mutinies among George Washington's soldiers, but also salutes Washington as a survivor who inspired loyalty among his officers. He dishes gossip (always the heart of history), explaining the reasons for the Jefferson-Hamilton feud but taking no sides on the question of Jefferson's alleged affair with Sally Hemings.
Last night's pub quiz was a good time -- for me, at least -- and I was relieved that the quiz seemed to be neither too easy nor too hard. If you'd like a copy of the quiz (without answers), send me an e-mail, and I'll send it to you.
Five Random Songs
"Piano Fighter," Warren Zevon. Another song off Mutineer. I saw him perform this live at the late, lamented Bayou in Georgetown, just him on the keyboard; this version is a little over-produced, with vibraphone and harmonium.
"Come Together," The Beatles. The shuffle function is so random; it feels like months since it's given me any Beatles, and I have a lot of Beatles in my music library.
"Of Missing Persons," Jackson Browne. A song written for Lowell George's daughter, after his death. "And you can sing this song/On July the fourth/From the sunny south to the frozen north/It's a day of loss, it's a day of birth/Does it take a death to learn what a life is worth?"
"Not About Love," Fiona Apple. From Extraordinary Machine, a CD I like a lot.
"Add It Up," Violent Femmes. I love the Violent Femmes. I love Gordon Gano. I do not care that he's a foot shorter than I am. This is a live version of the song off their compilation, Add It Up (1981-1993). I own a t-shirt from this tour... I wonder where it is.
First read: 1992
Owned since: 1991
One Sunday when I was five or six years old, I was fidgeting on a kneeler in church and looking at the date on a hymnal, which was some year before I was born. Until that moment, it had never occurred to me that the world had existed before I did -- that St. Leo's and my parents and all sorts of things had been in operation before I arrived, and that there had been a time when I did not exist. The thought of it made me dizzy. I closed my eyes and saw black-and-yellow checks behind my eyelids (so vivid that I still remember what they looked like).
After church, I asked my mother where I had been before I was born. "In the mind of God," she said.
That's all very well from a theological point of view, but I've never been able to shake the feeling that I walked into the party late, and still need to catch up on everything that happened before I got here.
I like lists, I like trivia, and -- as my research clients know -- I like timelines. This book combines all three of those things, so no wonder I used a gift certificate I got for Christmas 1991 to buy this.
Kenneth C. Davis is a "serious" historian who decided to put the essential information about the United States' founding and growth into a book anyone could pick up and read -- a book you might even keep in the bathroom, as it's written in short, entertaining question-and-answer chunks. This was the first of his "Don't Know Much About" books; he went on to turn it into a franchise that covers everything from mythology to astronomy.
This book strikes a nice balance, dispelling conventional wisdom without having any particular axe to grind. Davis, for example, gives the Comte de Rochambeau the credit he deserves for coordinating the naval confrontation that forced the British surrender at Yorktown; he notes the many mutinies among George Washington's soldiers, but also salutes Washington as a survivor who inspired loyalty among his officers. He dishes gossip (always the heart of history), explaining the reasons for the Jefferson-Hamilton feud but taking no sides on the question of Jefferson's alleged affair with Sally Hemings.
Last night's pub quiz was a good time -- for me, at least -- and I was relieved that the quiz seemed to be neither too easy nor too hard. If you'd like a copy of the quiz (without answers), send me an e-mail, and I'll send it to you.
Five Random Songs
"Piano Fighter," Warren Zevon. Another song off Mutineer. I saw him perform this live at the late, lamented Bayou in Georgetown, just him on the keyboard; this version is a little over-produced, with vibraphone and harmonium.
"Come Together," The Beatles. The shuffle function is so random; it feels like months since it's given me any Beatles, and I have a lot of Beatles in my music library.
"Of Missing Persons," Jackson Browne. A song written for Lowell George's daughter, after his death. "And you can sing this song/On July the fourth/From the sunny south to the frozen north/It's a day of loss, it's a day of birth/Does it take a death to learn what a life is worth?"
"Not About Love," Fiona Apple. From Extraordinary Machine, a CD I like a lot.
"Add It Up," Violent Femmes. I love the Violent Femmes. I love Gordon Gano. I do not care that he's a foot shorter than I am. This is a live version of the song off their compilation, Add It Up (1981-1993). I own a t-shirt from this tour... I wonder where it is.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF WORLD HISTORY, edited by Peter N. Stearns
The Book: Peter N. Stearns, editor; THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF WORLD HISTORY, Sixth Edition. Houghton Mifflin, 2001 (first edition); fine condition
First read: Still reading
Owned since: 2002
I pulled out this essential reference book to answer a client's question yesterday. This edition comes with a handy searchable CD-ROM, but that feels like cheating. Besides, half the pleasure of owning this book comes from flipping through it to find random facts.
Who remembers, for example, that liberation terrorists kidnapped and murdered the Quebec Minister of Labor in 1970? The Canadian Army actually occupied Quebec for six months, under the War Measures Act. I was too young to pay attention to the news, and they never taught me this in any history class -- but this was very close to civil war, right across the Maine state line.
Now, it's too obscure a fact to include in a pub trivia quiz -- which is relevant to me, because I'm hosting tonight's quiz at The Liberal Cup in Hallowell. It starts at 8:00, and the entry fee is $10 or $15 depending on the size of your team. Come out and play.
And before I forget, a very happy birthday to Mr. Jason Hersom, who wasn't even born in 1970.
First read: Still reading
Owned since: 2002
I pulled out this essential reference book to answer a client's question yesterday. This edition comes with a handy searchable CD-ROM, but that feels like cheating. Besides, half the pleasure of owning this book comes from flipping through it to find random facts.
Who remembers, for example, that liberation terrorists kidnapped and murdered the Quebec Minister of Labor in 1970? The Canadian Army actually occupied Quebec for six months, under the War Measures Act. I was too young to pay attention to the news, and they never taught me this in any history class -- but this was very close to civil war, right across the Maine state line.
Now, it's too obscure a fact to include in a pub trivia quiz -- which is relevant to me, because I'm hosting tonight's quiz at The Liberal Cup in Hallowell. It starts at 8:00, and the entry fee is $10 or $15 depending on the size of your team. Come out and play.
And before I forget, a very happy birthday to Mr. Jason Hersom, who wasn't even born in 1970.
Monday, May 19, 2008
MEETING ACROSS THE RIVER edited by Jessica Kaye and Richard J. Brewer
The Book: Jessica Kaye and Richard J. Brewer, editors; MEETING ACROSS THE RIVER: Stories Inspired by the Haunting Bruce Springsteen Song. Bloomsbury USA trade paperback original, 2005; inscribed by the editors, signed by several contributing authors.
First read: 2005
Owned since: 2005
Today is Richard Brewer's birthday, so a very happy day to him -- you can help him celebrate by buying a copy of this book!
Richard and Jessica solicited stories from 18 other authors (they contributed their own, as well), based on the classic song from Born to Run. If you don't know the song, it's a soliloquy directed to "Eddie," the singer's friend, who needs to help the singer make a deal that will put money and his pocket and show his long-suffering girlfriend, Cherry, that he's not just talking. You know, listening to the song, that it can't end well -- and in these stories, it doesn't.
The stories aren't all just imaginings of how the deal goes down, though. Steve Hamilton's "One Fast Packard" is a story of Prohibition-era smuggling; Gregg Hurwitz's "The Real Thing" is a six-page techno-thriller. My favorite story in the collection is probably Peter David's "Killing Time by the River Styx," which I can only describe as a Sopranos-style take on classic mythology.
It occurs to me, as I page through this book, that short story collections are a little like photo albums. While novels record an author's thoughts over an extended period of time, short stories show us the writer at a much more specific point in time, and only for a moment. Barbara Seranella, for example, is no longer with us -- but I can read her story again, and she's right here. I can hear her voice in the words on the page.
So thanks for that, Richard and Jessica, and many new challenges and triumphs ahead.
First read: 2005
Owned since: 2005
Today is Richard Brewer's birthday, so a very happy day to him -- you can help him celebrate by buying a copy of this book!
Richard and Jessica solicited stories from 18 other authors (they contributed their own, as well), based on the classic song from Born to Run. If you don't know the song, it's a soliloquy directed to "Eddie," the singer's friend, who needs to help the singer make a deal that will put money and his pocket and show his long-suffering girlfriend, Cherry, that he's not just talking. You know, listening to the song, that it can't end well -- and in these stories, it doesn't.
The stories aren't all just imaginings of how the deal goes down, though. Steve Hamilton's "One Fast Packard" is a story of Prohibition-era smuggling; Gregg Hurwitz's "The Real Thing" is a six-page techno-thriller. My favorite story in the collection is probably Peter David's "Killing Time by the River Styx," which I can only describe as a Sopranos-style take on classic mythology.
It occurs to me, as I page through this book, that short story collections are a little like photo albums. While novels record an author's thoughts over an extended period of time, short stories show us the writer at a much more specific point in time, and only for a moment. Barbara Seranella, for example, is no longer with us -- but I can read her story again, and she's right here. I can hear her voice in the words on the page.
So thanks for that, Richard and Jessica, and many new challenges and triumphs ahead.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
All About Bob
A bonus Sunday post, just because I feel like it.
At yesterday's (sadly underattended) Maine Festival of the Book, I caught the last 20 minutes of Crystal Zevon's talk about her oral history of Warren Zevon, I'LL SLEEP WHEN I'M DEAD. (I own this book, though it's currently lent out; I'll post about it separately.)
Someone asked her whether anyone had turned down her request for an interview, or whether she thought anyone's voices were missing. She mentioned her disappointment at not getting interviews with the Everly Brothers or David Letterman, as they simply don't give interviews. Then she said, "The person I really wanted to talk to was Bob Dylan, but I was afraid to ask him."
It's too bad. By coincidence, Bob Dylan played last night at the Androscoggin Bank Colisee in Lewiston, and Jen and I went to see him.
It's true, he doesn't seem to be the most approachable of men. He played one set -- about 75 minutes -- with no opening act and no intermission, and did not speak to the audience until the beginning of the encore, when he introduced the band.
But he seemed to be having a great time, and as I watched him, I felt overwhelming gratitude and admiration.
A character in Michael Chabon's book THE YIDDISH POLICEMEN'S UNION (which I reread this week) says something like, "All messiahs fail when they try to save themselves." But Bob Dylan never asked to be anyone's Messiah, never wanted to be. Instead, he's managed to save himself whole out of the chaos of the late 20th century.
He doesn't want to be a role model, but he can't help being one, just by being who he is. He turns 67 this week, and he still has new music to play, new songs to sing, new takes on old tunes. Last night he played versions of "The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll," "Shelter from the Storm," "The Ballad of Hollis Brown," and "Blowin' in the Wind" that sounded nothing like the originals -- but sounded GREAT. And he pulled out all the stops on a version of "Highway 61" that all but set the stage on fire.
Dylan neither ignores his past nor fetishizes it; he's brought it all with him into the present day. He is now everything he ever was, and then some. It's as much as anyone can aspire to.
At yesterday's (sadly underattended) Maine Festival of the Book, I caught the last 20 minutes of Crystal Zevon's talk about her oral history of Warren Zevon, I'LL SLEEP WHEN I'M DEAD. (I own this book, though it's currently lent out; I'll post about it separately.)
Someone asked her whether anyone had turned down her request for an interview, or whether she thought anyone's voices were missing. She mentioned her disappointment at not getting interviews with the Everly Brothers or David Letterman, as they simply don't give interviews. Then she said, "The person I really wanted to talk to was Bob Dylan, but I was afraid to ask him."
It's too bad. By coincidence, Bob Dylan played last night at the Androscoggin Bank Colisee in Lewiston, and Jen and I went to see him.
It's true, he doesn't seem to be the most approachable of men. He played one set -- about 75 minutes -- with no opening act and no intermission, and did not speak to the audience until the beginning of the encore, when he introduced the band.
But he seemed to be having a great time, and as I watched him, I felt overwhelming gratitude and admiration.
A character in Michael Chabon's book THE YIDDISH POLICEMEN'S UNION (which I reread this week) says something like, "All messiahs fail when they try to save themselves." But Bob Dylan never asked to be anyone's Messiah, never wanted to be. Instead, he's managed to save himself whole out of the chaos of the late 20th century.
He doesn't want to be a role model, but he can't help being one, just by being who he is. He turns 67 this week, and he still has new music to play, new songs to sing, new takes on old tunes. Last night he played versions of "The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll," "Shelter from the Storm," "The Ballad of Hollis Brown," and "Blowin' in the Wind" that sounded nothing like the originals -- but sounded GREAT. And he pulled out all the stops on a version of "Highway 61" that all but set the stage on fire.
Dylan neither ignores his past nor fetishizes it; he's brought it all with him into the present day. He is now everything he ever was, and then some. It's as much as anyone can aspire to.
Friday, May 16, 2008
RUSSIA AND THE WEST UNDER LENIN AND STALIN by George Kennan
The Book: George Kennan, RUSSIA AND THE WEST UNDER LENIN AND STALIN. Atlantic-Little Brown Books, 1961 (first edition). Missing dust jacket; spine is faded, boards show signs of wear. Previous owner's stamp ("James J. Lamb, 1808 Meredith Road, Virginia Beach, VA 23455) inside front cover; current owner's signature on front flyleaf.
First read: 1981
Owned since: 1984 (approximately)
This book was my father's textbook at the Naval Academy before it was my textbook (can't remember which class, but I think it was Professor Douglas's Marxism and the Marxist Tradition). I swiped it off my parents' bookshelves, rather than buying my own copy.
It remains essential reading for anyone interested in world politics, and current developments in the former Soviet Union show how relevant Kennan's observations still are. The book studies the evolution of the West's relations with the Soviet Union, beginning with the fundamental truth that the two countries have never been interested in exactly the same things. Much of the difficulty the United States and Russia have had with each other is rooted in the assumption that the two countries are pursuing the same or similar objectives, and Kennan's point is that this has never been the case, from 1917 on.
The Presidential candidates have all done a little saber-rattling in remarks about Putin's plans for Russia, but no one has discussed the issue at any length. It's hard to do that in the primary environment, but I am looking forward to hearing how Senator McCain and Senator Obama plan to deal with the Russian government.
The conservative website Human Events reported a year ago about the violent suppression of opposition rallies, writing: "Violent suppression of any democratic protest is the latest example of the deterioration of human rights under Putin, who has also re-centralized power, restricted free speech, and used increasingly repressive measures -- and not just in Chechnya." Things have only gotten worse since. Putin's ceding of the Presidency to his protegee, Dmitri Medvedev, means nothing, since Putin remains Prime Minister and Medvedev is an obvious puppet (Medvedev's the same age as I am, which alarms me. I'm not old enough to be a world leader; how could he be?).
I did wonder, when I heard President Bush's remarks on appeasement yesterday, how he reconciles those opinions with his close friendship with Mr. Putin.
What I Read (and Listened to) These Weeks
Julia Spencer-Fleming, I SHALL NOT WANT. Julia was nice enough to send me an advance copy of this book, which comes out next month; to say that it is eagerly anticipated would be an understatement. Millers Kill police chief Russ Van Alstyne is single at last, but the circumstances of his single-ness are almost more than he and the Reverend Clare Fergusson can bear. Once so close, they avoid each other, except when their paths are forced to cross -- as happens when the body of a migrant worker is found on Russ's sister's farm. Julia's kept these two apart for five books, and in this, the sixth, they finally find their way to each other -- sort of. It's beautifully done, completely plausible, and the crimes at the center of the book are believable. I SHALL NOT WANT ends with a turn that offers a world of new possibilities for the series -- which means I'm already waiting for the next book again.
Thornton Wilder, THE BRIDGE OF SAN LUIS REY. Not sure how I never read this book, which was on reading lists all through my high school years. The Peruvian monk Brother Juniper examines the lives of five who were killed in a bridge collapse, looking for evidence of God's plan. As the five stories come together into one, God's plan emerges as an inscrutable offering of the opportunity to love one's neighbor.
Christina Schwarz, DROWNING RUTH. Amanda Starkey, a wartime nurse, returns home to her family farm in upstate Wisconsin in the winter of 1919. Within a year her sister Mattie has died, leaving behind the three-year-old Ruth. Amanda raises Ruth as her own, and tells Mattie's husband, a wounded soldier, a story with far too many holes in it. The secrets Amanda keeps emerge over the next 20 years, as several characters tell the story. An impressive first novel that telegraphs many of its secrets early on, but still packs a punch at the end.
Doris Kearns Goodwin, NO ORDINARY TIME: Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt: The Home Front in World War II. A portrait of a unique and rather tragic marriage, and how its dynamic -- Franklin at home in the White House, Eleanor everywhere but there -- shaped American domestic policy for decades, mainly for the better.
Michael Beschloss, THE CONQUERORS: Roosevelt, Truman, and the Destruction of Hitler's Germany, 1941-1945. Fifty years ago, no one could have imagined the peaceful, prosperous, progressive Germany of today. Its emergence owes a great deal to the plans for a post-war Germany hammered out in Quebec, Yalta and Berlin during and after the Second World War. While Treasury Secretary Henry Morgenthau envisioned a Germany reduced to nothing but farms, and Stalin wanted to commandeer all of Germany's industry as war reparations, the eventual compromise allowed Germany to repair itself and return to the international community.
First read: 1981
Owned since: 1984 (approximately)
This book was my father's textbook at the Naval Academy before it was my textbook (can't remember which class, but I think it was Professor Douglas's Marxism and the Marxist Tradition). I swiped it off my parents' bookshelves, rather than buying my own copy.
It remains essential reading for anyone interested in world politics, and current developments in the former Soviet Union show how relevant Kennan's observations still are. The book studies the evolution of the West's relations with the Soviet Union, beginning with the fundamental truth that the two countries have never been interested in exactly the same things. Much of the difficulty the United States and Russia have had with each other is rooted in the assumption that the two countries are pursuing the same or similar objectives, and Kennan's point is that this has never been the case, from 1917 on.
The Presidential candidates have all done a little saber-rattling in remarks about Putin's plans for Russia, but no one has discussed the issue at any length. It's hard to do that in the primary environment, but I am looking forward to hearing how Senator McCain and Senator Obama plan to deal with the Russian government.
The conservative website Human Events reported a year ago about the violent suppression of opposition rallies, writing: "Violent suppression of any democratic protest is the latest example of the deterioration of human rights under Putin, who has also re-centralized power, restricted free speech, and used increasingly repressive measures -- and not just in Chechnya." Things have only gotten worse since. Putin's ceding of the Presidency to his protegee, Dmitri Medvedev, means nothing, since Putin remains Prime Minister and Medvedev is an obvious puppet (Medvedev's the same age as I am, which alarms me. I'm not old enough to be a world leader; how could he be?).
I did wonder, when I heard President Bush's remarks on appeasement yesterday, how he reconciles those opinions with his close friendship with Mr. Putin.
What I Read (and Listened to) These Weeks
Julia Spencer-Fleming, I SHALL NOT WANT. Julia was nice enough to send me an advance copy of this book, which comes out next month; to say that it is eagerly anticipated would be an understatement. Millers Kill police chief Russ Van Alstyne is single at last, but the circumstances of his single-ness are almost more than he and the Reverend Clare Fergusson can bear. Once so close, they avoid each other, except when their paths are forced to cross -- as happens when the body of a migrant worker is found on Russ's sister's farm. Julia's kept these two apart for five books, and in this, the sixth, they finally find their way to each other -- sort of. It's beautifully done, completely plausible, and the crimes at the center of the book are believable. I SHALL NOT WANT ends with a turn that offers a world of new possibilities for the series -- which means I'm already waiting for the next book again.
Thornton Wilder, THE BRIDGE OF SAN LUIS REY. Not sure how I never read this book, which was on reading lists all through my high school years. The Peruvian monk Brother Juniper examines the lives of five who were killed in a bridge collapse, looking for evidence of God's plan. As the five stories come together into one, God's plan emerges as an inscrutable offering of the opportunity to love one's neighbor.
Christina Schwarz, DROWNING RUTH. Amanda Starkey, a wartime nurse, returns home to her family farm in upstate Wisconsin in the winter of 1919. Within a year her sister Mattie has died, leaving behind the three-year-old Ruth. Amanda raises Ruth as her own, and tells Mattie's husband, a wounded soldier, a story with far too many holes in it. The secrets Amanda keeps emerge over the next 20 years, as several characters tell the story. An impressive first novel that telegraphs many of its secrets early on, but still packs a punch at the end.
Doris Kearns Goodwin, NO ORDINARY TIME: Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt: The Home Front in World War II. A portrait of a unique and rather tragic marriage, and how its dynamic -- Franklin at home in the White House, Eleanor everywhere but there -- shaped American domestic policy for decades, mainly for the better.
Michael Beschloss, THE CONQUERORS: Roosevelt, Truman, and the Destruction of Hitler's Germany, 1941-1945. Fifty years ago, no one could have imagined the peaceful, prosperous, progressive Germany of today. Its emergence owes a great deal to the plans for a post-war Germany hammered out in Quebec, Yalta and Berlin during and after the Second World War. While Treasury Secretary Henry Morgenthau envisioned a Germany reduced to nothing but farms, and Stalin wanted to commandeer all of Germany's industry as war reparations, the eventual compromise allowed Germany to repair itself and return to the international community.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
POLITICS AMONG NATIONS by Hans J. Morgenthau
The Book: Hans J. Morgenthau, POLITICS AMONG NATIONS: The Struggle for Power and Peace. Fifth edition, revised. Borzoi, 1978. Owner's signature and old telephone number written on front flyleaf; book is heavily highlighted and marked. Dust jacket is missing, but book is tight; spine is faded.
First read: 1984
Owned since: 1984
We're going back to politics and history for a while, because that's what I was listening to on this last trip, and it's what's on my mind. This was the main textbook for the International Relations class I took with Professor Coll; he was very young then, and my roommate and I had a crush on him. (Note to universities everywhere: class attendance improves when students have crushes on professors. Hire accordingly.)
Anyway, this edition was written at the height of the Cold War, and while much of it is now out-of-date, I've kept it because the insights are still clear and sound. Looking through it this morning, for example, I am particularly struck by Chapter 6, "The Struggle for Power: Policy of Prestige." "In the struggle for existence and power," Morgenthau writes, "what others think about us is as important as what we actually are."
Our current President has forgotten this, or maybe he doesn't care. Or maybe he wants the rest of the world to see us exactly as they do.
In any case, I'm happy to lend this book to any current or aspiring political candidate who wants to borrow it.
Five Random Songs (since I didn't post yesterday)
"Mutineer," Warren Zevon. In the summer of 1994, I took a weekend off and went to Bethany Beach, DE, all by myself -- except for a handful of CDs, and this was one of them.
"Falling For the First Time," Barenaked Ladies. This song is about someone jumping out of an airplane, I think. It's not something I feel any great need to do, although I hear it's fun. Claire's done it. It's good to have children braver than oneself.
"Conduct," The Durutti Column. A song and a band I was unfamiliar with until I got this CD, a collection of songs produced by the legendary Martin Hannett, for Christmas last year.
"Trouble in Mind," Big Walter Horton. This version of the song doesn't sound much like the version you probably know; it's off the great Alligator Records 20th Anniversary Collection.
"Baby It's You," The Shirelles. A great John Sayles movie, featuring Rosanna Arquette and a seriously hot Vincent Spano.
First read: 1984
Owned since: 1984
We're going back to politics and history for a while, because that's what I was listening to on this last trip, and it's what's on my mind. This was the main textbook for the International Relations class I took with Professor Coll; he was very young then, and my roommate and I had a crush on him. (Note to universities everywhere: class attendance improves when students have crushes on professors. Hire accordingly.)
Anyway, this edition was written at the height of the Cold War, and while much of it is now out-of-date, I've kept it because the insights are still clear and sound. Looking through it this morning, for example, I am particularly struck by Chapter 6, "The Struggle for Power: Policy of Prestige." "In the struggle for existence and power," Morgenthau writes, "what others think about us is as important as what we actually are."
Our current President has forgotten this, or maybe he doesn't care. Or maybe he wants the rest of the world to see us exactly as they do.
In any case, I'm happy to lend this book to any current or aspiring political candidate who wants to borrow it.
Five Random Songs (since I didn't post yesterday)
"Mutineer," Warren Zevon. In the summer of 1994, I took a weekend off and went to Bethany Beach, DE, all by myself -- except for a handful of CDs, and this was one of them.
"Falling For the First Time," Barenaked Ladies. This song is about someone jumping out of an airplane, I think. It's not something I feel any great need to do, although I hear it's fun. Claire's done it. It's good to have children braver than oneself.
"Conduct," The Durutti Column. A song and a band I was unfamiliar with until I got this CD, a collection of songs produced by the legendary Martin Hannett, for Christmas last year.
"Trouble in Mind," Big Walter Horton. This version of the song doesn't sound much like the version you probably know; it's off the great Alligator Records 20th Anniversary Collection.
"Baby It's You," The Shirelles. A great John Sayles movie, featuring Rosanna Arquette and a seriously hot Vincent Spano.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Miles to go...
Hitting the road again, headed for Kate's Mystery Books, which is celebrating its 25th Anniversary tonight. I'll be home very, very late tonight, and probably won't post again until late tomorrow morning.
Monday, May 12, 2008
YOU SUCK by Christopher Moore
The Book: Christopher Moore, YOU SUCK: A Love Story. William Morrow, 2007 (first edition). Inscribed to the owner. Fine condition.
First read: 2006
Owned since: 2007
Back at Megan's, and my first impression was correct: we really don't have much overlap in our book ownership, although she has several books I gave her, and vice versa. This is a book that I own because I would be Chris Moore's disciple if it were a paying job, and Megan owns because she likes vampire novels. So you see, YOU SUCK has something for everyone.
YOU SUCK is the long-awaited sequel to BLOODSUCKING FIENDS, and you really ought to read BLOODSUCKING FIENDS first -- not only because Mr. Moore should be encouraged and supported in all his efforts, but because I'm not sure how much sense parts of YOU SUCK make to people who don't already know the set-up. BLOODSUCKING FIENDS is the story of how Tommy, a goofball from the Midwest, moves to San Francisco and falls in love with the woman of his dreams, who happens to be a vampire. YOU SUCK begins on the morning after Jody, the woman, has turned Tommy into a vampire, and the two have to figure out the mechanics of vampire life together.
It is hilariously funny, gleefully violent, aggressively silly, and features one of Moore's best characters yet -- the teenaged Goth girl Abby Normal, who just can't believe Tommy isn't as cool as vampires are supposed to be in the books.
I read this book as an advance copy, but went to Boston to see Chris talk and get a first edition signed when he toured. I hear we might get to see some of the new book -- or maybe even advance copies? -- at BookExpo America, which is reason enough for me to return to Los Angeles at the end of the month.
First read: 2006
Owned since: 2007
Back at Megan's, and my first impression was correct: we really don't have much overlap in our book ownership, although she has several books I gave her, and vice versa. This is a book that I own because I would be Chris Moore's disciple if it were a paying job, and Megan owns because she likes vampire novels. So you see, YOU SUCK has something for everyone.
YOU SUCK is the long-awaited sequel to BLOODSUCKING FIENDS, and you really ought to read BLOODSUCKING FIENDS first -- not only because Mr. Moore should be encouraged and supported in all his efforts, but because I'm not sure how much sense parts of YOU SUCK make to people who don't already know the set-up. BLOODSUCKING FIENDS is the story of how Tommy, a goofball from the Midwest, moves to San Francisco and falls in love with the woman of his dreams, who happens to be a vampire. YOU SUCK begins on the morning after Jody, the woman, has turned Tommy into a vampire, and the two have to figure out the mechanics of vampire life together.
It is hilariously funny, gleefully violent, aggressively silly, and features one of Moore's best characters yet -- the teenaged Goth girl Abby Normal, who just can't believe Tommy isn't as cool as vampires are supposed to be in the books.
I read this book as an advance copy, but went to Boston to see Chris talk and get a first edition signed when he toured. I hear we might get to see some of the new book -- or maybe even advance copies? -- at BookExpo America, which is reason enough for me to return to Los Angeles at the end of the month.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Off Topic (except to the extent that it's all about me)
Greetings from Virginia Beach. My cousin Beth got married down here yesterday, and three generations of Lambs turned out to celebrate. For future reference, dancing all night is not the best thing for a twisted knee, but thanks to my brother James's heavy-duty Motrin stash, I'm fine today.
Anyway, the only books I have with me are the ones I'm reading and/or editing now, and most of this week's pleasure reading has been in the form of audiobooks. I'll post a double edition of What I Read This Week next Friday, but in the meantime I'm co-opting the blog to do a little networking.
I have an opportunity to take on a unique project late this summer in New York City, but it doesn't pay anything and it doesn't come with housing. Does anyone know of -- or have -- space for me (and maybe even Dizzy) from approximately August 1 through October 5? I could pay some rent, but probably not market rates. A furnished room in a pet-friendly house or apartment would be ideal, but anything without an active rat infestation is a possibility.
If you know of anything, leave me a comment or send an e-mail to LambLettersATgmail.com.
Sorry to be cryptic about the project, but I'm not sure how public it is yet. Believe me, I'll be much more forthcoming in the months ahead, especially if I do wind up spending August and September in New York.
Dizzy and I head back to DC tomorrow, back to New England on Tuesday. Happy Mothers' Day to everyone, especially to Vikki Bea and my sisters Kathy and Peggy.
Anyway, the only books I have with me are the ones I'm reading and/or editing now, and most of this week's pleasure reading has been in the form of audiobooks. I'll post a double edition of What I Read This Week next Friday, but in the meantime I'm co-opting the blog to do a little networking.
I have an opportunity to take on a unique project late this summer in New York City, but it doesn't pay anything and it doesn't come with housing. Does anyone know of -- or have -- space for me (and maybe even Dizzy) from approximately August 1 through October 5? I could pay some rent, but probably not market rates. A furnished room in a pet-friendly house or apartment would be ideal, but anything without an active rat infestation is a possibility.
If you know of anything, leave me a comment or send an e-mail to LambLettersATgmail.com.
Sorry to be cryptic about the project, but I'm not sure how public it is yet. Believe me, I'll be much more forthcoming in the months ahead, especially if I do wind up spending August and September in New York.
Dizzy and I head back to DC tomorrow, back to New England on Tuesday. Happy Mothers' Day to everyone, especially to Vikki Bea and my sisters Kathy and Peggy.
Thursday, May 08, 2008
POLITICALLY CORRECT BEDTIME STORIES by James Finn Garner
The Book: James Finn Garner, POLITICALLY CORRECT BEDTIME STORIES: Modern Tales for Our Life & Times. Macmillan, 1994. Fine condition.
First read: 1994
Owned since: 1994
Greetings from Washington, DC, where I'm staying in the house I used to share with my friend Megan (who still lives here). Megan too is a big reader, but our collections don't overlap much. This is one of the few books we both own, and I would guess we both still have it for the same reason: it's very small.
It's a one-joke book, and a dated one at that -- "Rapunzel," for example, begins "There once lived an economically disadvantaged tinker and his wife. His lack of material accomplishment is not meant to imply that all tinkers are economically marginalized, or that if they are, they deserve to be so." It is clever, and some of it is still very funny, but political correctness as a subject for humor is -- gosh -- about 15 years old.
The funniest story in the book is "The Three Codependent Goats Gruff," in which the biggest goat begs the troll to eat him because they tempted him, while the troll sobs and asks forgiveness: "No, no, it's all my fault. I threatened and bullied you all, just for the sake of my own survival. How selfish I was!" The battle of who is guiltiest ends badly, but with some measure of satisfaction for all involved, as they feel they are finally getting what they deserve.
It shouldn't surprise me -- but does -- to find that it is already early summer here in Washington, and everything is green. Dizzy, who came with me, is thrilled but a little overstimulated.
First read: 1994
Owned since: 1994
Greetings from Washington, DC, where I'm staying in the house I used to share with my friend Megan (who still lives here). Megan too is a big reader, but our collections don't overlap much. This is one of the few books we both own, and I would guess we both still have it for the same reason: it's very small.
It's a one-joke book, and a dated one at that -- "Rapunzel," for example, begins "There once lived an economically disadvantaged tinker and his wife. His lack of material accomplishment is not meant to imply that all tinkers are economically marginalized, or that if they are, they deserve to be so." It is clever, and some of it is still very funny, but political correctness as a subject for humor is -- gosh -- about 15 years old.
The funniest story in the book is "The Three Codependent Goats Gruff," in which the biggest goat begs the troll to eat him because they tempted him, while the troll sobs and asks forgiveness: "No, no, it's all my fault. I threatened and bullied you all, just for the sake of my own survival. How selfish I was!" The battle of who is guiltiest ends badly, but with some measure of satisfaction for all involved, as they feel they are finally getting what they deserve.
It shouldn't surprise me -- but does -- to find that it is already early summer here in Washington, and everything is green. Dizzy, who came with me, is thrilled but a little overstimulated.
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
ALL THE KING'S MEN by Robert Penn Warren
The Book: Robert Penn Warren, ALL THE KING'S MEN. Bantam Classic paperback reprint, 1966 (18th printing). Fair condition; book is intact but fragile, pages are brown and brittle, spine is heavily creased. Previous owner's markings on front cover, including an old phone number for VEPCO (now Virginia Power).
First read: 1982
Owned since: 1982
If you -- like me -- stayed up much too late last night waiting for returns from Indiana, you might have wondered: Why do people run for office, and what makes people hang onto it at all costs?
If you stayed up for last night's returns, you've probably already read this book -- but if you haven't, it explains it all for you. It is the great American political novel, beginning with a loving description of a highway built with public funds and ending with the narrator musing on the nature of history, honor, and public service. In between are passion, betrayal, love, anger, corruption, lies and terrible, costly hope.
Reporter Jack Burden becomes, almost accidentally, the advance man and press secretary for grassroots politician Willie Stark, who might be a buffoon except for his uncanny charisma and political vision. Willie gets into politics to do good, and never doubts that he has the people's benefit at heart. As his career rises, however, the other compensations of politics distract him, and he becomes more and more willing to do whatever it takes to achieve his goals.
Willie Stark gains the world and loses his soul, and Jack Burden is his henchman until his last illusion is betrayed. Willie says, "Man is born in sin and conceived in corruption and passeth from the stench of the didie to the stink of the shroud. There is always something" to be dug up on his opponents, something to be used as leverage. Jack doesn't want to believe him, but Willie turns out to be right. Maybe.
The power of ALL THE KING'S MEN comes from the fact that Willie is good as well as evil, and sets himself against things he perceives as greater evil. When this was the Questions blog, my brother James asked whether politicians realize how slimy they are. I said that no, they mostly don't, and this book was the beginning of that understanding.
On the road again today, and posting between now and Tuesday may be erratic -- which shouldn't matter much, since I'll be seeing most of my regular readers.
Five Random Songs
"Wild World," Jimmy Cliff. From his In Concert (Live) recording. Once you hear this song with a reggae beat, you'll never hear it any other way.
"The Sharpest Thorn," Elvis Costello & Alvin Toussaint. I had a last minute invitation to go to JazzFest in New Orleans last week, and turned it down because I was too tired and had too much work to do. I am now officially middle-aged.
"Ever Fallen in Love," The Buzzcocks. And then I hear this song and think, well, maybe not...
"The Best," ...And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead. I think this song was a single, off their album Worlds Apart.
"Punky Reggae Party," Bob Marley. It must be summertime. The weather report says it'll get above 80 in Washington, DC today. What the hell do I have to wear?
First read: 1982
Owned since: 1982
If you -- like me -- stayed up much too late last night waiting for returns from Indiana, you might have wondered: Why do people run for office, and what makes people hang onto it at all costs?
If you stayed up for last night's returns, you've probably already read this book -- but if you haven't, it explains it all for you. It is the great American political novel, beginning with a loving description of a highway built with public funds and ending with the narrator musing on the nature of history, honor, and public service. In between are passion, betrayal, love, anger, corruption, lies and terrible, costly hope.
Reporter Jack Burden becomes, almost accidentally, the advance man and press secretary for grassroots politician Willie Stark, who might be a buffoon except for his uncanny charisma and political vision. Willie gets into politics to do good, and never doubts that he has the people's benefit at heart. As his career rises, however, the other compensations of politics distract him, and he becomes more and more willing to do whatever it takes to achieve his goals.
Willie Stark gains the world and loses his soul, and Jack Burden is his henchman until his last illusion is betrayed. Willie says, "Man is born in sin and conceived in corruption and passeth from the stench of the didie to the stink of the shroud. There is always something" to be dug up on his opponents, something to be used as leverage. Jack doesn't want to believe him, but Willie turns out to be right. Maybe.
The power of ALL THE KING'S MEN comes from the fact that Willie is good as well as evil, and sets himself against things he perceives as greater evil. When this was the Questions blog, my brother James asked whether politicians realize how slimy they are. I said that no, they mostly don't, and this book was the beginning of that understanding.
On the road again today, and posting between now and Tuesday may be erratic -- which shouldn't matter much, since I'll be seeing most of my regular readers.
Five Random Songs
"Wild World," Jimmy Cliff. From his In Concert (Live) recording. Once you hear this song with a reggae beat, you'll never hear it any other way.
"The Sharpest Thorn," Elvis Costello & Alvin Toussaint. I had a last minute invitation to go to JazzFest in New Orleans last week, and turned it down because I was too tired and had too much work to do. I am now officially middle-aged.
"Ever Fallen in Love," The Buzzcocks. And then I hear this song and think, well, maybe not...
"The Best," ...And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead. I think this song was a single, off their album Worlds Apart.
"Punky Reggae Party," Bob Marley. It must be summertime. The weather report says it'll get above 80 in Washington, DC today. What the hell do I have to wear?
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
THE DAUGHTER OF TIME by Josephine Tey
The Book: Josephine Tey, THE DAUGHTER OF TIME. Washington Square Press paperback reprint, 1977. Very good condition; pages are slightly age-browned, but spine is tight.
First read: 1979
Owned since: 1987 (this copy, best guess)
After so many moves and so many cullings of the collection, it surprises me to find so many books on my shelf that I've kept not because I loved them but because I thought I ought to have them. I pretend to be a student of the mystery genre; therefore, I must own this book, because everyone says it's one of the greatest ever written.
I can hear the sputtering start now, and I can even predict where it's coming from. Several of my friends love this book so much they can't talk about it coherently. Don't misunderstand me, it is wonderful; it's a great premise, it's beautifully written, it's ingeniously constructed, and I recommend it to anyone who hasn't read it.
The Daughter of Time finds Tey's series character, Inspector Alan Grant, confined to a hospital bed after falling through a trap door while chasing a suspect. His friend Marta, an actress, distracts him with a collection of portraits -- Grant has always prided himself on being able to read character in a face, so Marta brings him a set of historical murderers. He fixates on the portrait of Richard III, who does not look like a murderer to him, and decides to investigate the fate of Richard's young nephews, who died in the Tower of London.
And now, as I leaf through this book, I see why I kept it. I first read it grudgingly, as a book report assignment from a teacher I disliked. I now realize that she disliked me just as much -- teachers are human, too -- but that didn't keep her from trying to engage me, and this book would have been a smart choice, if I'd been open to it at all. It's been years since I reread The Daughter of Time, but it might be time to do that again. I might finally be ready for it. Thanks, Mrs. Hume.
First read: 1979
Owned since: 1987 (this copy, best guess)
After so many moves and so many cullings of the collection, it surprises me to find so many books on my shelf that I've kept not because I loved them but because I thought I ought to have them. I pretend to be a student of the mystery genre; therefore, I must own this book, because everyone says it's one of the greatest ever written.
I can hear the sputtering start now, and I can even predict where it's coming from. Several of my friends love this book so much they can't talk about it coherently. Don't misunderstand me, it is wonderful; it's a great premise, it's beautifully written, it's ingeniously constructed, and I recommend it to anyone who hasn't read it.
The Daughter of Time finds Tey's series character, Inspector Alan Grant, confined to a hospital bed after falling through a trap door while chasing a suspect. His friend Marta, an actress, distracts him with a collection of portraits -- Grant has always prided himself on being able to read character in a face, so Marta brings him a set of historical murderers. He fixates on the portrait of Richard III, who does not look like a murderer to him, and decides to investigate the fate of Richard's young nephews, who died in the Tower of London.
And now, as I leaf through this book, I see why I kept it. I first read it grudgingly, as a book report assignment from a teacher I disliked. I now realize that she disliked me just as much -- teachers are human, too -- but that didn't keep her from trying to engage me, and this book would have been a smart choice, if I'd been open to it at all. It's been years since I reread The Daughter of Time, but it might be time to do that again. I might finally be ready for it. Thanks, Mrs. Hume.
Monday, May 05, 2008
BANKER by Dick Francis
The Book: Dick Francis, BANKER. Fawcett paperback reprint, 1984. Good condition; book is intact, spine is cocked and heavily creased, pages are age-browned.
First read: 1985
Owned since: 1985
I haven't hung on to many paperbacks, but this is my favorite Dick Francis novel. Besides being an excellent mystery, it also provides clear, succinct explanations of basic investment banking, the finances and mechanics of horse breeding, and pharmacology.
Investment banker Tim Ekaterin agrees to help finance the purchase of a great stallion who is being put out to stud. Disaster strikes when a disproportionate percentage of the stallion's foals are born with terrible birth defects. To recover his bank's investment, Ekaterin must find out whether the horse is at fault, or something more sinister is going on. Along the way he falls hopelessly in love with a married woman, makes a lot of new friends, and learns to love the world of horses.
I didn't watch the Kentucky Derby on Saturday; while set-building, I got knocked sideways by a moving platform (my own fault) and went down hard, twisting my knee in the process. No serious damage, but the knee's still swollen (yes, I'm still icing and elevating).
Good thing I'm not a racehorse. The best commentary I've seen on Saturday's sad events is Sally Jenkins's column in yesterday's Washington Post, which you can read here (registration required). Dick Francis's BANKER is based on the observation that breeding stallions are money-making machines; Jenkins's column is based on the observation that this has gone too far.
First read: 1985
Owned since: 1985
I haven't hung on to many paperbacks, but this is my favorite Dick Francis novel. Besides being an excellent mystery, it also provides clear, succinct explanations of basic investment banking, the finances and mechanics of horse breeding, and pharmacology.
Investment banker Tim Ekaterin agrees to help finance the purchase of a great stallion who is being put out to stud. Disaster strikes when a disproportionate percentage of the stallion's foals are born with terrible birth defects. To recover his bank's investment, Ekaterin must find out whether the horse is at fault, or something more sinister is going on. Along the way he falls hopelessly in love with a married woman, makes a lot of new friends, and learns to love the world of horses.
I didn't watch the Kentucky Derby on Saturday; while set-building, I got knocked sideways by a moving platform (my own fault) and went down hard, twisting my knee in the process. No serious damage, but the knee's still swollen (yes, I'm still icing and elevating).
Good thing I'm not a racehorse. The best commentary I've seen on Saturday's sad events is Sally Jenkins's column in yesterday's Washington Post, which you can read here (registration required). Dick Francis's BANKER is based on the observation that breeding stallions are money-making machines; Jenkins's column is based on the observation that this has gone too far.
Saturday, May 03, 2008
TWICE SHY by Dick Francis
The Book: Dick Francis, TWICE SHY. Putnam, 1982 (third printing). Signed by the author on half-title page. Very good book in good dust jacket.
First read: 1983
Owned since: 1987 (best guess)
For Kentucky Derby day, a horse mystery. I was surprised to find that this is the only Dick Francis novel I own in hardcover; over the years, I bought a lot, but must have given most of them away.
This one was signed at an event at the late, lamented MysteryBooks, which used to be right above Dupont Circle on Connecticut Avenue. I didn't spend as much time in that store as I should have, although I remember standing in line for signatures from Dick Francis, PD James, and Patricia Cornwell (in the early years). The staff at MysteryBooks introduced me to Minette Walters's books and to the works of the Poisoned Pen Press, among others.
Dick Francis's novels all have something to do with horses, but each one also explores a new subject, and I always learned something from them. The main character in this one is a physicist, Jonathan Derry, who gets an apparently innocent cassette from someone who's then murdered. The cassette is a computer program that handicaps horses with uncanny precision -- such uncanny precision that people are willing to kill for it.
Maine has OTB parlors, but I probably won't bother to drive to Brunswick to lose my money. Instead, I'm spending the day at Hallowell City Hall, where we're starting construction on the set for Bye Bye Birdie. If you're in the area, come out and join us. You can borrow my hammer.
First read: 1983
Owned since: 1987 (best guess)
For Kentucky Derby day, a horse mystery. I was surprised to find that this is the only Dick Francis novel I own in hardcover; over the years, I bought a lot, but must have given most of them away.
This one was signed at an event at the late, lamented MysteryBooks, which used to be right above Dupont Circle on Connecticut Avenue. I didn't spend as much time in that store as I should have, although I remember standing in line for signatures from Dick Francis, PD James, and Patricia Cornwell (in the early years). The staff at MysteryBooks introduced me to Minette Walters's books and to the works of the Poisoned Pen Press, among others.
Dick Francis's novels all have something to do with horses, but each one also explores a new subject, and I always learned something from them. The main character in this one is a physicist, Jonathan Derry, who gets an apparently innocent cassette from someone who's then murdered. The cassette is a computer program that handicaps horses with uncanny precision -- such uncanny precision that people are willing to kill for it.
Maine has OTB parlors, but I probably won't bother to drive to Brunswick to lose my money. Instead, I'm spending the day at Hallowell City Hall, where we're starting construction on the set for Bye Bye Birdie. If you're in the area, come out and join us. You can borrow my hammer.
Friday, May 02, 2008
MODERN MANNERS by P. J. O'Rourke
The Book: P. J. O'Rourke, MODERN MANNERS: An Etiquette Book for Rude People. Atlantic Monthly trade paperback (first printing), 1990. Very good condition; spine is slightly sun-faded.
First read: 1990
Owned since: 1990
I'm not sure why I hung on to this book, except that it reminds me of a time and place I would not otherwise think of very often. Manners and humor are two things that change a lot over time and culture, and this satire is a time capsule of a specific American socio-economic class during the 1980s.
Once upon a time, such things as Yuppies roamed the earth. God help me, I aspired to be one of them -- though I was a little too young and a little too poor to do it properly. I am so far from the New York-Washington rat race now that I no longer know what people who used to be Yuppies now aspire to be -- helicopter parents, maybe, or even Dennis Hopper-style retirees.
I leaf through it now and find much of it downright quaint, although some of it is still pretty insightful: "We must be as obsequious as possible to famous people and do everything in our power to make them like us. Fame is a communicable disease."
What I Read This Week
Tana French, IN THE WOODS. This book won the Edgar for Best First Novel last night, and it's well-deserved. Twelve-year-old Adam Ryan goes out to the woods with his two best friends, Jamie and Peter, and only Adam comes back -- two days later, with his shirt torn and his shoes filled with blood. Twenty years later, a young girl is killed in the same area, and Adam is now a murder investigator who calls himself Robert. Robert is our narrator, still counting the cost of an ordeal he can't remember, and offering no easy answers for himself or for us. Moody, gripping, sad, and I've already got an advance copy of the sequel.
Chris Grabenstein, HELL HOLE. Yes, the title had me humming that Spinal Tap song off and on for a whole day. But this fourth John Ceepak mystery takes a much darker turn, as Ceepak and his partner/narrator, Danny Boyle, investigate the apparent suicide of an Iraq war veteran. We learn several surprising things about Ceepak, and the book ends with the promise of more troubling events to come. But Ceepak's rock-solid integrity remains a comfort to both Danny and us, and makes this series one of the most rewarding in crime fiction.
Nina Revoyr, THE AGE OF DREAMING. Jun Nakayama, a major star of silent films, left the screen abruptly in 1922. Forty years later, an eager journalist/aspiring screenwriter finds him and offers him the chance to return to filmmaking. As Nakayama considers the possibility, he remembers his rise to stardom and the terrible circumstances that ended his career. Revoyr gives us a unique perspective on the early days of Hollywood, retelling the story of the unsolved murder of William Desmond Taylor (thinly disguised) in a way that makes us consider the nature of responsibility and guilt. This is a beautiful, elegant book that deserves a great deal of attention.
First read: 1990
Owned since: 1990
I'm not sure why I hung on to this book, except that it reminds me of a time and place I would not otherwise think of very often. Manners and humor are two things that change a lot over time and culture, and this satire is a time capsule of a specific American socio-economic class during the 1980s.
Once upon a time, such things as Yuppies roamed the earth. God help me, I aspired to be one of them -- though I was a little too young and a little too poor to do it properly. I am so far from the New York-Washington rat race now that I no longer know what people who used to be Yuppies now aspire to be -- helicopter parents, maybe, or even Dennis Hopper-style retirees.
I leaf through it now and find much of it downright quaint, although some of it is still pretty insightful: "We must be as obsequious as possible to famous people and do everything in our power to make them like us. Fame is a communicable disease."
What I Read This Week
Tana French, IN THE WOODS. This book won the Edgar for Best First Novel last night, and it's well-deserved. Twelve-year-old Adam Ryan goes out to the woods with his two best friends, Jamie and Peter, and only Adam comes back -- two days later, with his shirt torn and his shoes filled with blood. Twenty years later, a young girl is killed in the same area, and Adam is now a murder investigator who calls himself Robert. Robert is our narrator, still counting the cost of an ordeal he can't remember, and offering no easy answers for himself or for us. Moody, gripping, sad, and I've already got an advance copy of the sequel.
Chris Grabenstein, HELL HOLE. Yes, the title had me humming that Spinal Tap song off and on for a whole day. But this fourth John Ceepak mystery takes a much darker turn, as Ceepak and his partner/narrator, Danny Boyle, investigate the apparent suicide of an Iraq war veteran. We learn several surprising things about Ceepak, and the book ends with the promise of more troubling events to come. But Ceepak's rock-solid integrity remains a comfort to both Danny and us, and makes this series one of the most rewarding in crime fiction.
Nina Revoyr, THE AGE OF DREAMING. Jun Nakayama, a major star of silent films, left the screen abruptly in 1922. Forty years later, an eager journalist/aspiring screenwriter finds him and offers him the chance to return to filmmaking. As Nakayama considers the possibility, he remembers his rise to stardom and the terrible circumstances that ended his career. Revoyr gives us a unique perspective on the early days of Hollywood, retelling the story of the unsolved murder of William Desmond Taylor (thinly disguised) in a way that makes us consider the nature of responsibility and guilt. This is a beautiful, elegant book that deserves a great deal of attention.
Thursday, May 01, 2008
BETTY CROCKER'S NEW DINNER FOR TWO COOKBOOK
The Book: BETTY CROCKER'S NEW DINNER FOR TWO COOKBOOK. General Mills spiralbound, 1964 (first edition). Good condition; book is slightly age-browned, shows signs of use.
First read: 1970 (best guess)
Owned since: 2007
This book was a wedding present to my mother. I didn't want much, when Dad broke up the house last year, but I did take a few of her cookbooks. Most of the wet fingerprints on the pages must be from us kids, because Mom never had much opportunity to cook for two; Kathy and I were born nine months after my parents' wedding.
Old cookbooks feel like travel guides to the past, and this one is no exception. Recipes are heavy on prepared ingredients -- one for "Southern Burgers" calls for the addition of a can of chicken gumbo soup to ground beef, diced onion and ketchup (spelled "catsup"). A hostess tip suggests heating potato chips before serving: "Spread on baking sheet. Slide into hot oven a few minutes (watch carefully -- they burn)." A two-page spread offers suggestions for "planned-overs" (because, with recipes for two, you shouldn't have leftovers!).
The last chapter of this book, and the most heavily used, is the "Cook's Primer." My Grandmother McLaughlin was a serious cook, but Mom never took much interest in it. She'd taken home economics in high school, but was never someone who cooked for pleasure. Pies defeated her; the page on pie crusts is heavily marked with drips and fingerprints, and possibly even tearstains.
It's pretty amazing, given the fact that she didn't like to do it, that Mom made dinner for a family of eight -- or some subset of it -- every night. She'd get creative sometimes, and when she tried something new, she'd put it on the table and announce "Another culinary triumph."
Today's her 67th birthday. Maybe I'll make something out of this cookbook tonight -- one more culinary triumph.
First read: 1970 (best guess)
Owned since: 2007
This book was a wedding present to my mother. I didn't want much, when Dad broke up the house last year, but I did take a few of her cookbooks. Most of the wet fingerprints on the pages must be from us kids, because Mom never had much opportunity to cook for two; Kathy and I were born nine months after my parents' wedding.
Old cookbooks feel like travel guides to the past, and this one is no exception. Recipes are heavy on prepared ingredients -- one for "Southern Burgers" calls for the addition of a can of chicken gumbo soup to ground beef, diced onion and ketchup (spelled "catsup"). A hostess tip suggests heating potato chips before serving: "Spread on baking sheet. Slide into hot oven a few minutes (watch carefully -- they burn)." A two-page spread offers suggestions for "planned-overs" (because, with recipes for two, you shouldn't have leftovers!).
The last chapter of this book, and the most heavily used, is the "Cook's Primer." My Grandmother McLaughlin was a serious cook, but Mom never took much interest in it. She'd taken home economics in high school, but was never someone who cooked for pleasure. Pies defeated her; the page on pie crusts is heavily marked with drips and fingerprints, and possibly even tearstains.
It's pretty amazing, given the fact that she didn't like to do it, that Mom made dinner for a family of eight -- or some subset of it -- every night. She'd get creative sometimes, and when she tried something new, she'd put it on the table and announce "Another culinary triumph."
Today's her 67th birthday. Maybe I'll make something out of this cookbook tonight -- one more culinary triumph.
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