B.A.B.A.E.L.

In Defense of E-Books

2010-11-03T22:00:00.001-05:00

I've never been one to fetishize books.

Sure, I've appreciated a nice binding and cool detailing. Yes, I own several volumes more or less because they look nice. Yeah, I've even sniffed the lovely pages of a book or two.

However, I've also been known to break spines, read while doing messy activities thus getting dirt or food all over the book, dogear my pages, read in the bath (resulting in not only little water deformations all over the pages, but the occasional dropped book), and many other abuses I'm probably not thinking of.

That's because, for me, books are mostly meant for one thing -- reading. And I will read anywhere, and anyway I am comfortable doing so.

I've been surprised to discover the hostility that e-readers have brought forth from my fellow book-lovers. I didn't realize that they so literally loved the books themselves, as objects, rather than their contents. I've also noticed a common theme among their objections: They've rarely ever held an e-reader in their hands. It's obvious from the complaints they make.

So, in defense of e-books, here's why you'll pry my e-reader out of my cold, dead, hands:

1) Gone with the Wind only weighs a few ounces. As does War and Peace, Moby Dick, and well... all books. Talk about wanting to curl up with a book? The e-reader is the ultimate "curling up" device!

2) To reiterate: the e-reader is the ultimate curling up device. Not only because it is lightweight, but I only need one had to operate it. I've grown to love curling up with it on a chilly night with only one finger poking out of the covers. I've gotten so used to the whole process that I've actually (gasp!) started to prefer e-books to "real" books. It can also be held horizontally or vertically and page turns accomplished in a variety of comfortable ways.

3)True e-readers (so not the iPad, folks) are easier on the eyes. I'm so tired of hearing that people do not like to "read on a screen." This isn't any screen you've ever seen before. It is practically indistinguishable from paper and ink. So why do I say easier? For one, the background has a slightly grayish tint rather than bright white, reducing page glare, and mostly because I can make the font ANY SIZE I WANT! I've really been enjoying this when I read in bed at night. I have terrible vision, but with the reader, I am able to blow up the font, take off my glasses and read in comfort until I nod off.

4)There is nothing better than an e-reader for bath-time reading. That's right, I take my expensive electronic device in the bath with me. Yup, I did just say a few paragraphs up that I've dropped more than one book in the tub. I've dropped my e-reader in tub, too. Luckily, unlike a book, I can pop my e-reader in a waterproof bag. Those that are less clumsy or paranoid than I can even simply pop it in a ziplock bag! (This is also the solution for beach reading as well.) Try that with a book. It's unbelievably convenient.

5)Know what else is convenient? Being able to carry hundreds of books in my purse.

6)Know why I have hundreds of books to carry? Because sources for free e-books abound. My favorites are my library, and FeedBooks. I've never had more in my TBR pile than I do now.

That said, not all e-readers are created equal. Any of the touch-screen models are going to have greater screen glare. The iPad is not an e-reader, really, so it really is like reading on a computer screen. The Kindle has that cool whispernet thing and that not-so-cool proprietary format thing. The Sony Reader is a little on the heavy side. I use the Astak Pocket Pro, which I like, but is not only not as slick as other readers out there, it has no comfortable method of page-turning when held horizontally. (But it is red!) And no true e-reader can display in color or deal very smoothly with images.

There are also, at least currently, plenty of reasons people may like to still use paper books, besides familiarity. For now, e-readers remain the domain of those who can afford them. Sharing e-books can be tricky. Reading should never be solely handy for the wealthy.

But mostly? I think this e-book thing is here to stay and is growing every day. And you know what? I welcome it! People were scared when Gutenberg invented the printing press (yes, really!) and yes, it resulted in the loss of those beautiful handmade manuscripts with the gorgeous illumination. But we all know there were gains to be had, as well. And there will be with e-books, too.

I don't know that I've made a believer out of anyone, but I am glad to be a voice in the book world that actually appreciates the advances and advantages of e-reading. We're out there!

Mostly I just want us all to agree, it isn't the format you read on that matters. It's the reading that matters. I read, you read, we all read. And that's a good thing, right?

The Gendarme by Mark Mustian

2010-09-01T15:30:00.009-05:00

As far as I'm concerned, this book just showed up in the mail one day. I honestly can't remember if I requested it, won it, or just got lucky. But it's certainly the nicest thing to show up on my doorstep in a long time.

First of all, the cover design is great. Yes, Virginia, you should judge your books by their covers. If covers were so unimportant, publishers would just bind everything in plain black. Instead, if they think a book really merits it, then they spend a lot of time and money making sure a book's cover communicates something.

In this case, I found the cover slightly reminiscent of that haunting National Geographic photo taken in Afghanistan a couple of decades ago of the girl with the striking eyes. Whether or not the allusion was intentional or one of those things only I can see, I think that the key word here is haunting, because haunting describes very well what the story is, and what the story is about.

Nominally, the novel covers the WWI-era Armenian genocide, interestingly, not from the sympathetic point of view of an Armenian, but instead from the weird visions of a 90-something émigré, Emmet Conn, who is in turn experiencing the story through the eyes of a gendarme -- an officer who escorted thousands, then only hundreds, of deported Armenians out of Turkey.

It is also a novel about memory, and how memory can haunt us. And how there are things we cannot, and, frankly should not forget. And, of course, love.

However, like the beautiful Araxie's mismatched eyes ( a nice detail seen on the full cover), there is a lack of perfection in this story. I do wish it were as charming as the those eyes.

The story really wraps itself up in a neat little bow, something I normally like, but this was almost too easy and too complete. Or, as someone put it, "messy stories ought to have messy endings." I couldn't have put it better and hope that Mr. Mustian realizes that next time, as well.

But I hope he realizes it, because I sincerely hope that there is a next time. Overall, the writing was beautiful, powerful, and, yes, haunting. The Gendarme is a book likely to stay with me for a long time.

We Have a Winner: The King's Mistress

2010-08-30T10:00:00.000-05:00

Sorry about the late drawing, folks, somehow I got it in my head that I'd set the deadline for August 30th. So, you see, in my own mind, I'm right on time! (How I manage to get out of bed each morning and actually remember to get dressed and drive to work every day is beyond me.)

So, without further ado or excuse, let's all congratulate our winner of The Kings Mistress, Jo-Jo!

Thanks to every one who entered, and for those who didn't win, I highly recommend you click on that link and buy a copy right now. You won't regret it!

The Lost and Forgotten Languages of Shanghai by Ruiyan Xu

2010-08-24T20:00:00.013-05:00

At times, novels set in a different culture from my own feel a bit inaccessible to me -- distanced. Culture, like a language, can sometimes be a barrier.

The Lost and Forgotten Languages of Shanghai is, essentially, a novel of barriers. Culturally between Americans and Chinese, older generations and younger generations, and even expats and visitors. But the major theme is that of language.

After Li Jing is injured in the collapse of a large hotel, he is diagnosed with aphasia, leaving him unable to communicate in his native Chinese, although he can understand it.

More bizarrely, he is left both able to understand and speak English, the language of his childhood, although he has not used it for many years. A specialist in what is known as bilingual aphasia is flown in from the United States in the hopes that her experience in the field, as well improving Li Jing's English, will help him re-learn his Chinese.

I liked that the novel made me contemplate the intimacy of communication, as well as the barriers the lack of it can put up. As the narrator was 3rd person omniscient, I experienced the interesting frustration of knowing what each character was thinking and seeing the consequences of their inability to express themselves.

I enjoyed contemplating what a lack of language might do to my own relationships. At first, I was almost puzzled by the difficulties Li Jing and his wife, Meiling, had communicating. After all, they had translators, both human and computerized. But slowly, I began to appreciate the intimate things that can neither be spoken to a human outside that relationship, nor fully communicated through a clumsy computer translator.

Li Jing's doctor, Rosalyn Neal, has arrived in Shanghai on the heels of a painful divorce, and finds that since she and Li Jing are two of the few English speakers. Because of this, she and her patient are beginning to share a very inappropriate bond facilitated by the fact that they are often living in their own private world of two. While language separates Li Jing and his wife, this forced intimacy inexorably draws Dr. Neal and Li Jing together.

While the premise is interesting and thought-provoking, the execution left me feeling as if there was a failure to communicate. After briefly considering that the differences may have been cultural, I rejected the idea. After all, Meiling, the most Chinese character in the whole novel, was also the character I connected with the most.

Unfortunately, Li Jing and Rosalyn are simply not deep characters, nor are they particularly likable or understandable. As the novel is largely character and not plot-driven, this lack of depth creates a barrier between the reader and the story almost as insurmountable as a lack of common language.

More depth and even length (to give the author time to more fully delve into each character) may have been the answer here -- or at the very least a stronger plot arc. I see potential in the writing, and, as stated, really enjoyed the questions the story raised, but was ultimately left unsatisfied.

Cool Giveaway Serivce

2010-08-24T10:02:00.000-05:00

I've always notified my buddies at West of Mars whenever I post a book giveaway, and will always continue to do so, however, I've recently been made aware of a cool service called "Giveaway Scout." Giveaway Scout scans member blogs for all kinds of giveaways -- not just books! I've got a cool little gadget on the right that'll let you see some of the things you can win on the web, so check it out!

We Have A Winner!

2010-08-11T11:56:00.002-05:00

Congrats to Dawn M., who has scored my copy of The Quickening. Enjoy!

Giveaway: The King's Mistress by Emma Campion

2010-08-09T15:39:00.002-05:00

I've got one slightly-less-than-gently-used (but still very nice) ARC of The King's Mistress on offer for anyone in the US. Just leave a comment with some way to contact you for an entry.

Follow the blog or subscribe to an RSS feed for another and leave a separate comment letting me know you've done so for another. Blog about it with a link, tweet it, post it on Library Thing and that sort of thing and leave an entirely new comment for another entry.

That's three comments total for three entries. Drawing will occur on August 23rd.

Here's my review: Review of King's Mistress

If you are quick on your feet, get a comment in before midnight tomorrow for an entry into my Second Chance Giveaway for The Quickening.

The King's Mistress by Emma Campion

2010-08-08T18:58:00.001-05:00

Let's get one thing out of the way: This book has the title of a bodice-ripper. Yes, Alice Perrers was the king's mistress, but we could have done better than that, no?

The good news is this isn't a bodice-ripper (well, I suppose if you like bodice-rippers that is bad news, but...). In fact, most of the sexual situations -- of course there are some, because we are talking about a book about the king's mistress, after all -- are handled with a great deal of decorum, sometimes even employing the literary equivalent of fade-to-black.

If you have ever read Anya Seton's Katherine (What do you mean you haven't? Get on that!) then you have encountered the character of Alice Perrers at least once. And it wasn't a pretty picture. History has not been kind to Ms. Perrers, to the point where even the sympathetic Seton, able to understand Katherine Swynford's role as mistress, still paints Perrers as the villian.

Popular history says that she was... well, let's let this site tell it: "She was an ambitious, unscrupulous, indiscreet and greedy woman of humble origins who became one of the most powerful figures at royal court of Edward III" (Source: middleages.org)

Ouch.

Emma Campion doesn't see it that way. The refrain of her Alice is "What choice had I to be other than I was?" Campion states that she rejected the notion that any common woman could "choose" to become the king's mistress -- rather it is far more likely that the king chose her and that it was an honor Alice Perrers didn't dare refuse. A compelling theory, I think.

Campion also gets the chance to make Alice, about whom we actually know very little, into something of a medieval "everywoman," through whom we get to learn a little bit about common life, court life, luxury and plague.

Campion's Perrers is the daughter of a modertly well-to-do merchant and a mother who doesn't much care to compete with her pretty daughter. So she is soon wed to another well-to-do merchant named Janyn Perrers -- a step up since he is known to hob knob with royalty. Dangerous royalty, though.

Perrers' years with Janyn are happy ones, but his dangerous connections mean she is eventually placed in the household of Queen Phillipa of Hainault, wife of Edward III. (This much is true.) While there, the beautiful Alice catches the eye of the king and is given implicit permission by the barren and aged queen to lie with the king.

Perrers is very much in love, but much like her husband before her, she is messing with dangerous royalty.

This is a great novel of the court-life variety, with all the usual twists, turns, and villains lurking around every corner ready to bring our heroine down. It's also a passable, if not always believable, romance. As medieval fiction, it both packs a lot of period detail, while not quit delivering quite the medieval feel. Like many historical fiction heroines before her, Alice Perrers has a decidedly modern tone.

What few flaws it has, though, are ultimately forgivable, and this is a really readable and exciting story. Campion has done a good job of redeeming the naughty Alice. Maybe it will catch on.

A Second Chance: The Quickening by Michelle Hoover

2010-08-01T18:51:00.001-05:00

Sometimes me and a book just don't get along. And it isn't the book, really baby, I swear, it's me! The writing is solid, there are no glaring errors -- nothing to complain about except that I didn't like it.

And sometimes, I get these books for free to review. And then I just feel bad for them. They aren't bad books, and they don't deserve me.

Then I thought, What if one of my readers deserves them?

So, I'd like to offer The Quickening a second chance. Maybe it isn't my kind of book, but might it be yours? Would you like to give it a shot and maybe a review?

Then drop me a line here in the comments with some way to contact you and my gently used ARC may be yours. Drawing will occur on August 10th. (US only, please because I am poor.)

The Devil and Sherlock Holmes by

2010-07-22T15:14:00.002-05:00

I must admit, I'm on a bit of a non-fiction kick right now, and coming off of the fabulous Hellhound on His Trail, the essay collection The Devil and Sherlock Holmes really seemed to fit the bill.

I first heard about this book when the author did a really great interview on NPR, made a mental note to check it out, and then -- as usual -- promptly forgot about it. Lucky for me, a conversation with someone brought to mind one of the stories in the book, The Chameleon, and since I had a computer nearby, I went ahead and snagged it from my library's collection of e-books.

For the most part, I'm glad I did.

The essays were divided into sections, and the first section, with its discussion of the possible murder of a Sherlock Holmes enthusiast and the aforementioned Chameleon of Nantes was engrossing. I ripped through theses fascinating tales of the mysterious and extremely weird.

There were some additional tales that caught my attention, like the case of the possibly innocent arsonist accused of killing his children in Texas, or even the story of the really eccentric "Sandhogs" of NYC, tunneling under the earth.

However, by the end, tales of a dude who doesn't want to stop playing baseball, or the mafia in Youngstown Ohio really started to lose my interest. So much so that I never did read the last one or two stories in the book.

Overall, though, the material and the writing were solid, and a handful of bad essays in a book full of them isn't really a problem -- especially when they are all helpfully grouped together! I'd certainly recommend you give it a look, and, by and large, prepare to be amazed!

Brevity is the Soul of Wit

2010-07-17T18:36:00.000-05:00

Speaking of being busy, I've been so busy, I've forgotten to tell you about my new blog! I know, I know, how can I have a new blog when I'm sitting here telling you I don't have enough time for the others? Well, look and see:

One Word Book Reviews

So, you see, it doesn't take very much time at all!

Sometimes, I just don't have a whole lot to say about a book. Sometimes, I do, but I don't have the time to say it. And, frankly, limiting myself to one word to sum up a whole book is a really interesting exercise.

You'll see a lot of crossover between there and here, as I flesh out reviews here that I started there, or as I find it interesting to distill a book I reviewed here.

Hope you like it!

Hellhound on His Trail by Hampton Sides

2010-07-15T15:02:00.006-05:00

I don't know that this is normally the sort of book I might have sought out on my own, as I'm not much of a non-fiction reader, and although I am a history reader, I usually read stuff slightly less... contemporary. As in , medieval not contemporary.

So I'm glad I decided to follow the advice of awesome blogger Mike Adamick and pick up a copy of Hellhound on His Trail by Hampton Sides.

Hellhound, surprisingly, reads almost like a thriller -- even though you know the result. I love so-called "narrative history," but it is harder to pull off with any success if the reader is already sure of the ending. Sides achieves this by not only filling the reader in on all sorts of obscure details about King's assassin, but by constantly referring to James Earl Ray by whatever alias Ray is using at the time. I don't know why this works, it just does.

This is a book that almost anyone, I think, would pick up and be unable to put down. I must confess, as someone slightly obsessed with crime shows who reads the Crime Library for fun on a regular basis, this one was just perfect for me. But I don't think it is only for a reader like me.

I suggest you give it a try. I suspect you will be hooked just a few pages in.

Summertime... and the living's busy!

2010-07-14T15:01:00.000-05:00

May? My last post was in May?

I really had no idea it had been anywhere near that long. Meanwhile, I've been reading and reading and reading and not saying a thing about it to you!

Sadly, just about every time I've sat down to write something, business heats up. Because, let me tell you, in the place where I say "Shhhh!" a lot, summer is our busy season.

Rest assured, I have things to say, books to review, and maybe even one or two to give away (if I can just remember where I put them!), so hopefully, it won't be another two months before I post again.

A Little Exchange

2010-05-19T17:49:00.001-05:00

(Tapping shoulder) "Honey, you need to turn your computer volume down."

"WHAAAAAAAT? HUH?"

"Yes. Exactly my point!"

The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Sloot

2010-05-17T10:23:00.005-05:00

I don't read a lot of nonfiction. Odd, because I'm a voracious consumer of information -- a lifelong learner, I'd like to think -- but I'm very picky about how that information is delivered to me. A lot of nonfiction, sadly, puts me to sleep.

Not so with the fabulous new title The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, an offering of what I'm hearing called "creative nonfiction" written by first-time author Rebecca Skloot (or "Miss Rebecca" as I can't help but think of her after reading this book). I sped through The Immortal Life, unable to put it down at times, as if it were some great suspenseful work of fiction. I spent my time being alternately fascinated, repulsed, drawn in, pushed away, observing, feeling, but mostly learning and absorbing.

The book first caught my eye on store shelves, I admit, because of its strong cover. With such a striking image and great title, I actually thought the book must be some sort of interesting historical fiction. Busy, I left it for another day. That day came when I heard the book's author being interviewed on NPR. Fortunately, for me anyway, the author was able to talk about Henrietta's story in such an engaging way, I wasn't turned off by the nonfiction designation.

If I had to say this book was about any one thing, I would, despite the title, have to say this is the story of Henrietta's daughter, Deborah Lacks, and how she and her family process how their mother's cells have been used (without any express permission) the world over to advance science.

You, like the Lacks family for many years, have probably never heard of HeLa -- the designation for the cultured cancer cells removed from Henrietta's body in the late 1950s. However, you have probably befitted from HeLa if you've had cervical cancer. Or any cancer. Or haven't had polio. Or taken any number of medicines. Or used cosmetics. Or, well, lived and breathed on this earth in the past 50 years or so.

However, the people who have benefited the least are in the Lacks family. The reasons for this are many, and the answers (especially easy ones) are few. A lot of questions are posed in telling the story of Henrietta and her cells -- ones that medical ethicists, some 60 years later, are still struggling to answer.

And Skloot documents them all. The family, the questions, the answers, the science, the scientists... and puts it in a beautiful, engaging, heartfelt package that anyone would enjoy reading. Quite possibly the best book I'll read all year.

The Exile of Sara Stevenson by Darci Hannah

2010-04-20T16:50:00.002-05:00

Release Date: 07/27/10

Let's pretend for just a moment that the few issues I had with The Exile of Sara Stevenson weren't present.

Okay. You in the right frame of mind? Concentrate... concentrate... there! Okay.

So, minus a few looming issues, I loved this novel. It is a delish example of what a quality historical romance ought to be. It isn't even bad as an example of a gothic romance -- a category I'm not normally fond of.

Right from the start of this story there are mysteries. For the first dozen pages or so, there's just the basic mystery of figuring out why Sarah Stevenson is being exiled to begin with. (This assumes you haven't red the blurb, of course.) Then there is the mysterious lighthouse keeper with a fiery temper to match Sarah's and a curious interest in womanly flesh.

Campbell, the lighthouse keeper, is a man who obviously harbors many secrets, and is a perfect compliment to the character of Sarah. I reveled in their Darcy/Bennet-like relationship -- a killer formula that has worked for everyone from Austen to Margaret Mitchell and works just fine here. The whole story is full of missed connections and misunderstandings that build great dramatic irony for the reader. They make the book tough to put down!

Every character had a perfect place in the story, providing exactly what they needed to. There are no wasted pen-strokes on that account. Even Sarah's erstwhile companion, now betrayer, Kate, provides great dramatic tension as the reader builds a love/hate relationship with her.

So, what's not to like, then?

Firstly, I would just pretend this whole book is pure fiction and ignore the author's note. It'll just leave you wondering why she chose to drag poor Robert Stevenson into the story at all. It is one thing (and perfectly acceptable) to be told that the author puts Sarah at the Cape Wrath lighthouse a little before it was actually built. Okay, no problem. But it just keeps going like... oh yeah, and there's no evidence that Mr. Stevenson had a bastard grandkid... or banished his daughter to his lighthouse... or, actually even had a daughter named Sarah.

If I hadn't read the Wikipedia entry on Robert Stevenson before I finished the book, curious about a familial relationship, I would have expected the author to inform me that, in fact, Robert Stevenson didn't exist either.

And that's my point, really. He did exist. He didn't do any of the stuff Hannah accuses him of, except for build a lighthouse, and that wasn't even in the right time frame. Why not just make up a lighthouse designer whole cloth? It would have made more sense.

That's not my only issue, either. There is also something of a frame to the story, supernatural in nature. I could have lived without it. The story could have been written without it. But, to paraphrase the character of Sarah Stevenson, I don't believe in ghosts because I've never seen one. I enjoyed the more realistic elements of the story. Others are bound to feel differently.

None of this, would make The Exile of Sara Stevenson not worth reading, however. I devoured the book from beginning to end in almost record time and think it is a fine historical fiction novel that will appeal to those interested in romance and those interested in Scottish settings as well. I'd rather bless it for what it is than damn it for what it isn't.

We Have a Winner!

2010-04-17T12:55:00.001-05:00

Congrats to Carol M who has snagged herself a free copy of Megan Whalen Turner's Newbery Honor book, The Thief.

Is it terrible of me to admit that I'm completely jealous of her for getting to read this excellent book again for the first time?

Cute Question of the Day

2010-04-14T15:41:00.001-05:00

"But is this fantasy FICTION?"

Yes, son. That's sort of a given, isn't it?

It's Like That Friend of Yours That Always Takes the Joke Too Far

2010-04-14T13:42:00.001-05:00

Hahaha! Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.

Oh, yes! Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters! Clever. Very clever! Hahaha!

Tee hee! Yes! Abe Lincoln, Vampire Hunter. Nice.

Oh, a sequel, eh? Pride and Prejudice and Zombies: Dawn of the Dreadfuls. Huh. Ha. Ha. Ha.

Ah, yes. Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and Zombie Jim? Uh-huh.

Jane Slayre you say? You know what? Stop it. It just isn't funny anymore.

Giveaway: The Thief by Megan Whalen Turner

2010-04-06T12:17:00.002-05:00

In celebration of the release of Megan Whalen Turner's newest installment in The Queen's Thief series, A Conspiracy of Kings,I'd like to give away one brand new copy of the first book, The Thief, to anyone who hasn't read these fabulous novels before.

Here's the rules:

1) US only because I am not rich and not because I do not love the rest of the world.

2) I would really appreciate it if you really and truly haven't read any Attolia novels before. But you probably should have a taste for YA fantasy.

3) Leave a comment for an entry.

4) Follow this or any of the other blogs found at www. sunnyatthelibrary.com for another entry, and leave me a separate comment telling me you have done so. (You can follow more than one blog, but you won't get extra credit, you over-achiever, you.)

5) Do these things before April 16th.

6) Give me a way to contact you.

7) You will be contacted by April 19th.

8) Nothing. I just like eight. Good Luck!

The Handbooks for Lightning Strike Survivors by Michele Young-Stone

2010-04-06T11:58:00.001-05:00

As a debut novel, The Handbook for Lightning Strike Survivors is somewhat ambitious. Michele Young-Stone has a good grasp of language, and a knack for description, but is also trying to balance the lives of two main characters and a whole host of supporting actors.

I appreciated the quality of the writing, but because the story kept flip-flopping back and forth between the viewpoints of Buckley (son of a lightning strike victim) and Becca (lightning strike victim) and dealing with their almost over-complicated personal lives, there was a lack of drive to the story. I found it very easy to put this book down and read other things in between.

Not only are there too many people, there's just too much stuff packed in here. One begins to wonder how many terrible things one person can go through. Buck and Becca aren't just strike survivors, they ought to be suffering from PTSD after the myriad of problems they have to deal with. Which, I guess, is somewhat the point. It was also a little depressing.

The real strength of this story is the characters, most of which really pop. Amazing, given the volume of them. I admit, I'm not the world's biggest character-driven novel fan, so I may also not be quite the audience for this one.

This *is* the kind of novel I've been chewing on here and there ever since I finally finished it, which is in its favor. I do like a book that gives me things to think about once the pages run out. In fact, some of my favorite novels have been those that I initially disliked, couldn't stop thinking about, and then came to appreciate.

I can't say that The Handbook for Lightning Strike Survivors is going to be one of those novels. Currently, it is simply the sort of book I wouldn't eschew if it fell into my lap (which this one more or less did), but neither would I seek it out. I look with interest to Young-Stone's future writing endeavors.

The Swan Thieves by Elizabeth Kostova

2010-02-09T16:28:00.001-06:00

Although, I didn’t love Kostova’s debut novel The Historian, I was intrigued enough to be excited when given the opportunity to read and review her sophomore work, The Swan Thieves. And yet, as with The Historian, I ultimately felt that The Swan Thieves was a wide novel, but not very deep.

The Swan Thieves begins with the story of Andrew Marlowe, a part-time artist and full-time psychiatrist who has been assigned a unique case – the care of an up-and-coming artist who was arrested in DC’s National Gallery attempting to stab a painting depicting Leda and the Swan. The artist, Robert Oliver, is not talking. And so, Marlowe must fine someone from Oliver's life who will. At least, this is what he tells himself.

First, he turns to Robert’s ex-wife, discovering from her a bit about where Robert has come from, as well as learning of Oliver's obsession with creating the same women on canvas over and over and over again. A woman that his wife, Kate, assumes must be his mistress. Moreover, she assumes this mistress must be the reason that Robert no longer seems to care much for her or their family. He also begins demonstrating alarming signs of psychological distress, all of which leads to Kate pushing him out of her life, and, ironically, into the arms of a mistress.

This mistress, Mary, will give us the rest of the picture of Robert Oliver. From her we will learn of Robert’s rise as an artist, as well as his continuing and often disturbing artistic obsession. Andrew Marlowe will have to take these pieces, and paste them together so that he can see the real Robert, and perhaps solve an art-world mystery that will help him regain his psychological health.

The novel was often engaging and very readable – again, these were my primary reactions on having finished The Historian as well. I really liked the idea of getting to know Robert Oliver not from himself, but through the women who loved him. The images of Robert they both created, along with that of the doctor’s own feelings, were somewhat disparate, and yet came together to form a really satisfying whole.

The doctor’s voice, however, was inauthentic. For one, it was not a particularly masculine voice. I think writing from the perspective of a sex that is not your own can be difficult. I understand Kostova's choice to make her lead male – other events in the story ride on the maleness of Andrew Marlowe – but he sounds just as female as the rest of the characters (Who, disturbingly, all sound like each other.) One distinctly non-male moment: Andrew Marlowe at one point refers to his pectorals as his “breasts.” No man I know, no matter how comfortable he is with his masculinity, would do that. A small detail, but novels ride on such details.

The doctor was also somewhat difficult to believe as a psychologist. He frequently excuses himself for doing things that a psychologist simply would not do. Great for the plot, bad for the realism. Marlowe frequently fails to think and act like a psychologist. Perhaps this was meant to express his painterly side. I was more worried about his lack of professional ethics, especially as he becomes increasingly fascinated with his patient's own lover.

Sadly, the mystery that pervades the plot is something of a disappointment as well. I had the general idea, if not all the exact details, worked out roughly 100 pages in. While the people in Olivers life do not have all the pieces, and the reader does, it becomes increasingly frustrating that no one in the novel is able to put together what the reader will have done hundreds of pages earlier.

One thing I do like about Kostova is that she writes a good, long story, taking her time to really develop the environment around her characters. I love to really have a chance to get into a character and to get to know his world. It is especially refreshing when one has to read kids’ books all the time. However, for all the length, the people often seem to be lacking something in the way of depth. While I feel like I got to know Robert Oliver fairly well, everyone else remains something of a mystery. And in the end, there is something sort of pedestrian about the story, despite its attempts at grandiosity.

I was neither pleased enough with The Swan Thieves to rush out and by Kostova’s next offering, nor disappointed enough to eschew it. Which, really, leaves me right back where I began with her, doesn't it?

Shanghai Girls by Lisa See

2010-02-02T15:59:00.002-06:00

Pan-Asian fiction is certainly a genre of choice for me, with China being a recent favorite for setting. And yet, I haven't read any Lisa See. I know. I know. It's just that for the longest time, Snow Flower had this gigantor waiting list and then I kept forgetting to check it out and then...

Shanghai Girls fell in to my lap.

And now I've been told, "Yeah. You should probably read Snow Flower or Peony. Those are lots better." I'm crossing my fingers, because I really didn't connect with Shanghai Girls at all.

The characters felt very distant and unapproachable to me, which was the main problem. The plot itself was quite skillfully executed.

The novel starts in Shanghai where Pearl and her younger sister May are fashionable "beautiful girls" -- calendar models living something of a glamorous life. Some of my first disconnects with the narrator character (Pearl) occur here, not for her blindness to the impoverished reality around her, but for her sheer indifference to it. I'm not disputing that there are people who view the world around them with indifference, I'm just observing that 1) It does make it harder to connect to a character, and 2) It doesn't really mesh with the Pearl we later come to know.

Violence invades the lives of Pearl, May, and their parents, and the former "beautiful girls" are forced to flee to America, to husbands they barely know and surely don't love, with a very big secret in tow.

During the American part of the book, there were some great scenes set in the immigration office. There were also a lot of informative and interesting pieces about Chinatown and even Hollywood -- sadly, the emotional disconnect rears its head again. Now, the characters begin to act inconsistently, behaving as is most convenient for See's dramatic storyline.The can bee seen most notably in the character of the father-in-law who, completely inexplicably, becomes an entirely different person toward the end of the novel.

The novel culminates in a dramatic and well-conceived argument between May and Pearl wherein all the family skeletons are dug out of the closet. Ultimately, this fight really teases out the perception versus reality theme that the novel had been dancing around for some time. Well done!

However, the power of this moment is somewhat diminished by the novel's rushed non-ending. I've seen others complain about this as well. I don't mind those sort of "the end is a beginning" types of conclusions as a rule, but this one leaves way more questions than answers. It feels drastically unfinished.

All in all, Shanghai Girls is a rather slim novel for the breadth of its subject matter. See's writing is good, but perhaps she could have explored her subjects better and done true justice to her interesting plot-work, had she given herself more space to work in.

Liar by by Justine Larbalestier

2009-12-28T13:44:00.001-06:00

(Cross posted from Children's Books Too Cool For School)

I'd like to tell you the truth about how I felt after reading Justine Larbalestier's dynamic new novel, Liar. But the truth is, I can't.

I'm still reeling from this fast-paced mystery that is quickly garnering fame for having the most unreliable narrator on the planet.

Liar is told from the point of view of Micah, a seventeen year-old compulsive liar with a dead (mabye... sort of) boyfriend. Besides the dead guy, there are other mysteries in Micah life, like why does her extended family live like pioneer folks, why does she have such a deep dislike for her brother, and what, oh what, is the "family illness"? (One is tempted to think it is compulsive lying, but in any case...)

The story's pace is lightening fast, almost hard to keep up with -- there are so many twists and turns as Micah keeps revising what she promises is "the truth." I enjoyed this aspect of the story very much.

Yet, I had difficulty connecting with Micah herself. Not because she's an unreliable narrator (I've read, and connected with plenty of these in the past), but because there's so little I share with her. Perhaps, were I seventeen, the case may be different, but I don't think so. I'm not so senile yet that I forgotten the feeling of teenage-hood. Without being able to quantify it well, I'll have to leave it at "Micah and I didn't really connect." Maybe this is because the overwhelming impression I get from Micah isn't that she is talking to me, and trying to convince me of the truth, but more that she is trying to convince herself. I, the reader, am really irrelevant in this scenario.

As for the other characters, well, Micah isn't a very good narrator, in addition to being unreliable. That is to say that none of the rest of the people she describes have any real flesh to them. Not a keen observer of character, that Micah.

Yet, for all this, I probably would have felt better about the whole story, if it weren't for a certain moment I'm going to have to be coy about. Suffice to say that about halfway through the novel, there was a moment between three teens in a cave that I was still trying to digest when the novel started a new section and declared a "truth" that left me going, "Really? No, really?" Yes, really.

I'm not sure if it was clever... a gimmick... a clever gimmick? It was certainly interesting, and added a whole new dimension to the idea of the narrator's credibility, but, oh I can't explain it. You may have to read it for yourself, despite my less-than-glowing review. Otherwise, I'll ruing the whole story. Now *that* is the sort of thing that novel-buzz is made of, n'est-ce pas?

As for the moment in the cave: That led to a sort of dispensable bizarre subplot of dubious veracity that I didn't much enjoy. But I'm coming to discover that I'm something of a literary prude, anyway. Be forewarned that this novel is full of sexual situations, adult language, and a whole lot of violence.

The long and short of it is, my feelings about this book are about as unreliable as Micah, but what can be said for it is this -- Liar will stick with me for a long time to come.

Boys are usually reluctant to read novels with a female protagonist, but I think that they'd really enjoy this one if you can get them past that. A late YA novel for sure, say ages 15-18.

We Have a Winner (Something Missing)

2009-10-29T13:54:00.002-05:00

Via the highly scientific method of having my husband select a number, I've picked and notified a winner of my Something Missing giveaway. Congrats to Rebecca!

Thank you all for entering and if you didn't win, I hope maybe you'll check out this awesome book from your local library or throw a few bucks Matthew Dicks's way and pick up a copy. I promise you won't be disappointed.*

*Promise may not apply to some persons. Check your personal reading tastes for details.

Putting the Best Foot Forward

2009-10-15T19:19:00.002-05:00

So, major, big-time, bigwig is visiting us here at the library today. So what do I do? Manage to have the loudest most raucous storytime ever. I'm still not sure if this makes me look awesome or bad.

Well, the kids liked it, anyway.

So, I am Obviously Not a Math Person

2009-10-05T17:15:00.003-05:00

And I would like to know who this teacher is who is assigning students papers on the Golden Ratio, Pi, and Fibbo-whatsit sequences.

Firstly, because this is not The DaVinci Code.

Secondly, because we don't have a whole lot of material on these things, especially at a middle school level.

But mostly because I look like an idiot when someone asks for books on Pi and I come back with baking books.

Mmmmmm... Pi.

Something Missing by Matthew Dicks

2009-10-05T16:51:00.000-05:00

If there was something missing from my life before, it was this book. Har, har, har. I'm so funny. Ahem....

Sorry.

I've been raving about this book to anyone who will listen to me. Creative, engaging, funny, outrageous -- Something Missing is one of the most interesting and satisfying stories I've read for months.

So, the premise: Martin is a somewhat antisocial oddball (the blurb says OCD, but I'd say more detail-oriented and methodical than true OCD... or neurotic, maybe). He has few friends. He has no pets. He has no girlfriend. He lives alone in a house left to him by his dead mother.

Oh, and he's a thief.

But not your usual thief. Oh, sure, he makes the occasional high-dollar "acquisition" (to use his term) from what he thinks of as his "clients" (a carefully developed list of people he steals from, and studies). But mostly he sticks to a roll or two of toilet paper, a few Advil, or a little bit of laundry detergent. Things his clients never miss and that he needs to get by.

Things change for Martin, though, the day he drops a client's toothbrush in the toilet.

From there, Martin's carefully ordered, cataloged life, becomes increasingly chaotic. And, Martin realizes, increasingly worth living.

Martin is a charming literary hero, and not just for a thief either. I don't know how Dicks does it, but a character that should have been boring and offensive was outright loveable. Some may consider seeing the world through his eyes a little tedious, but I found it a detailed delight. Meanwhile, the story brims with humor and compassion.

And then, once you hit a certain point (and you will know it when you see it) you will find the book impossible to put down.

I loved this book so much, I'm going to do something I've never done before -- I'm going to give it away. I want to share this book with someone and hope they enjoy it as much as I did.

So here's the rules: I get all headachy when a contest has 8,000 ways to enter so, you know, just leave me a comment. Feel free to blog me, follow me, whatever, but all you will receive for that is my gratitude. Leave your email, or if I can contact you some other way (blog comments, for instance), just lemme know. You've got until October 25th. US only. Sorry, but I just can't afford to ship to places far and wide. Good Luck!

Hate List by Jennifer Brown

2009-10-01T19:14:00.005-05:00

Boy howdy is this book garnering some attention. Well-deserved I might add. Brown's book is in the spotlight for one simple reason -- she's decided to tackle one heck of a subject. What makes a school shooter? What are the justifications? Why does one kid barely toe the line, and what makes another step over the edge? What happens to those left behind?

Valerie Leftman is the left-behild line-toer, in our case. Several months ago, Valerie's boyfriend Nick went into a crowded area of their high school known as "The Commons," and opened fire. Valerie is the one who ultimately stops him, saving the life of one Jessica Campbell, but the media and the town have a field day when they discover that she is also the one who "inspired" him. The victims all came straight off Valerie's own "Hate List."

There are also incriminating emails bashing classmates, discussing death and suicide. And, even to Valerie, they don't look good in hindsight. She's pretty sure she didn't want those people dead, but she's also pretty sure that she did not, indeed does not, particularly like them. She's also pretty sure she's still a little in love with Nick.

This book covers a lot of tough, emotional ground and it feels very authentic. Motivations ring true to life, as does most of the storyline. It isn't comfortable, however. Not what I'd call a "good" book in the traditional sense. I was glued to the page, but more with a sense of catharsis than enjoyment.

Some parts of this book rang all too true for me, as a once-bullied outcast myslef. I once "joked" (a grim joke indeed) that if anyone had ever shot up my high school Colombine style, it would have been one of my friends. Although I don't think I ever came too close, I could have been a Valerie Leftman. Add that to the fact that I wrote (vented, really) some of my own questionable material about my classmates, and know that this story hit home.

However, a few things lacked a feel of authenticity. The story picks up as Valerie is about to re-enter her high school after the summer off. In reality, I'm not sure anyone would think this is a good idea. Sure, it makes for more interesting plot, but also for more psycological trauma for everyone involved, don't you think? Secondly, the whole thing is, well, a little emo. But I didn't expect less from a book called Hate List. It may not be my thing, but it will suit the target audience. There are other issues, but I don't want to discourage you, nor give away too much of the story. Suffice to say I wasn't completely thrilled with the ending.

But other things couldn't possibly feel more true, including Valerie's experience with pshychology. I'm glad she has a therapist she can work with, and also glad she has some negative experiences. All too often psychology is either portrayed as the easy fix-it-all method, or more like something from One Flew Over the Cucoo's Nest. Brown avoids either extreme.

Most engaing is the character of Valrie. A deep, real, complex character dealing with real life, albiet on a more exaggerated scale than most of us have to experience. I suspect this book will be a huge hit, especially with teen girls. Not a bad read for parents, either, and almost a must-read for school offcials.

Alice I Have Been by Melanie Benjamin

2009-09-21T12:35:00.005-05:00

Publication Date: January 12, 2009

Most of us have heard the story: Alice in Wonderland, that venerated children's classic, was based on a real girl. We've all heard too some variation on the claim that its writer, known to us as Lewis Carroll, but known to the "real" Alice as Charles Dodgson, was a pedophile. And few of us have dug any deeper.

But writer Melanie Benjamin, inspired by Dodgson's photographs of children (particularly his young female subjects, and a provocative photo of Alice herself heavily featured in the story), decided to peek a little deeper into the lives of Alice Liddell, and her childhood friend Mr. Dodgson. The story itself is an author's dream. There is probably an equal amount of evidence for the camps that maintain Dodgson was a pedophile (though most agree he never acted on these urges) and those who maintain that he was simply a man whom little girls found charming (granted, that is a hard sentence to write without it sounding not... quite right!). Dodgson's friendship with Alice Liddell is shrouded in mystery, since the pages from his diary pertaining to a crucial period are missing. All we know for sure is that they knew each other, he took some photographs of her, wrote a story featuring her name, and that when Alice was around 11, they mysteriously ceased contact. This is the stuff historical fiction is made of.

The post-Dodgson years are no less fascinating. There is Liddell's possible romance with a prince, her tragic experience with world war, and even her tour of the States as "the real Alice" in which she (really!) meets "the real Peter Pan."

Benjamin filters Lidell's life through the three major men in her fictional Alice's life. First, we meet brash, thoughtful, childhood Alice and experience her somewhat uncomfortable (from the reader's perspective, that is) relationship with Charles Dodgson. Clearly an attractive man, Dodgson captivates most of the female hearts of the household, but it appears to be Alice that holds his. Too young to quite understand why this is not socially or morally acceptable, the young Alice takes ownership of her role as the beloved of Dodgson, until it lands them both in some mysterious trouble. Meanwhile, she tries to filter and understand the rivalry she has created with her older and cattier sister, Ina.

Alice resurfaces in the second part of the novel as the intended of one of Queen Victoria's princes -- the hemophiliac Prince Leopold. She's playing a dangerous game trying to hide her murky past, and avoid those who would tell her lover the truth. Because of this tension, the novel's center section is permeated with a delicious air of urgency and mystery. Leopold is wonderfully written, and Benjamin does an excellent job of playing with the historical record and weaving it into her story line. For instance, many think that Leopold courted not Alice, but her younger sister, Edith. Benjamin has an excellent explanation for this "misconception."

Lastly, we see Alice as a society matron. A country lady with an estate and three very different sons. What I loved about this section was how Alice's voice has "changed" (lost much of its spunk and sparkle) but is still essentially Alice. We grow older, we give up dreams, and we settle into the humdrum of everyday life. This is the last Alice we see. The Alice that must deal with realities and not Wonderland.

While this book is more a work of fiction than some other works of historical fiction, the real story of Alice Liddell does provide a fiction writer's playground. For a fairly well-documented life, all the crucial details are missing, and Benjamin fills in the gaps expertly. She also inspired me to look up more information on Lewis Carroll, examples of his photography, debates on his sexuality, and read all about Alice Liddell from other sources. And that, really, is my marker for good historical fiction. The characters inspire me to read the novel, and then inspire me to know more.

The Private Papers of Eastern Jewel by Maureen Lindley

2009-09-05T16:18:00.004-05:00

I first "met" Eastern Jewel, who would, no doubt, prefer to be called Yoshiko Kawashima, in a fascinating novel about another fascinating Chinese/Japanese Yoshiko, The China Lover by Ian Buruma. In some ways the Eastern Jewel that appears there -- the liberated, cross-dressing spy -- isn't so different from the one that appears in this work. One yearns to know more. The few existing photographs of Eastern Jewel in her male military garb pose so many questions!

Needless to say, I was thrilled to receive a review copy of The Private Papers of Eastern Jewel. All the details I've ever been able to get my hands on about Eastern Jewel provide scant information, a mere sketch of a woman -- a historical fiction writers dream!

However, this novel simply was not my cup of tea.

All characters up to and including Eastern Jewel lack depth, their motivations mysterious. Nor does Lindley sucsessfully create that Eastern flavor that seems so elusive for many Western writers. Instead, the cultures of Japan and China are held at a distance -- the exotic (or perhaps erotic) other.

Writing about other cultures for Western audiences is all about details, details, details. Sights, sounds, smells, flavors... all those things that bring a setting to life are lacking. But there is one thing we have plenty of -- sex.

Occasionally a modified form of a striking line from L.M. Montgomery's Anne of the Island attaches itself to certain films, novels, or a myriad of other things in my mind. In the case of this novel it is, "I like historical fiction as is historical fiction, I don't like historical fiction as is historical erotica."

As erotica, it's not bad. It has a unique setting, a remarkable heroin, and Asian exoticism hasn't gone out of style. It has group sex, homosexual sex, oral sex, costume sex, and every kind of sex in between. A great deal of it is rather boundry-pushing (such as Eastern Jewels early sexual encounter with her adoptive "grandfather"), but this is pretty par for the course in erotica. The very first scene in the novel is sex, and it doesn't let up from there.

However, I'm afraid it isn't particularly good, or accurate, historical fiction. The actual details of Eastern Jewels life get lost in the miasma of sexual encounters. She's a Chinese princess turned Japanese spy known for wearing men's clothing, for goodness sakes! Perplexingly, the Eastern Jewel of this novel spends a great deal of time in dresses. The rich material of her life is often rushed through to get to the next liason. There is no doubt that she was a sexually attractive woman -- contermporary accounts refer to her as such -- nor that her name was often linked with those of many powerful men of her time. However, I have my doubts that she was quite the bed-hopper Lindley makes her out to be. She even has a stint as a prostitute.

No doubt this novel will have its audience. I just don't think this audience was me, despite my adoration for all things historical, all things China, and even Memoirs of a Geisha. I feel like the novel represents itself as something it isn't, and that risks alientaing the audience it intends to court, while failing to attract the audience that it is never going to find with a pastel cover and a "book club guide."

Question of the Day

2009-07-12T15:55:00.001-05:00

From a 10 year-old boy: Do you have any "Yo Mama" joke books?

Scottsboro by Ellen Feldman

2009-06-24T19:00:00.006-05:00

Scottsboro is really historical novel writing at its finest. I was completely absorbed in this skillful blend of fact and fiction, becoming engrossed in the story and learning a lot too.

What more could you ask for? That the author, Ellen Feldman, take on sexism, elitism, communism, racism, antisemitism, sexuality and more in one book? And pull it off? Well she does and she does.

The author notes in an afterword that when she told people she was writing about Scottsboro, this news was often greeted enthusiastically, only to be followed with a request to, "refresh my memory." Like those the author talked to, I too, distinctly remembered that the case of the Scottsboro Boys was a landmark one, that the Scottsboro Boys were accused of the rape of a white woman, and that the city's name is something of a rallying cry for racial equality in the justice system. But nothing more.

What I failed to recall, or was probably never taught, were all the amazing intricacies of the case, how the case affected the criminal justice system, and, sadly, what the ultimate outcome of the case was. Meanwhile, I had never considered the fascinating times that the trial of the Scottsboro Boys occurred in, and how this soup of modernity and old-fashioned values would make for such an interesting novel.

Scottsboro tells the story of those infamous boys as well as one of their accusers, Ruby Bates, mostly through the eyes of Alice Whittier, girl reporter. Alice is apparently an amalgamation of a few woman reporters of the time. While she starts off as a bit of a stereotypical Girl Friday or film noir wise-gal, she quickly fleshes out into a perceptive narrator who also provides a window into the sexism and political climate of the time. Alice sets off, like everyone else, to get her story on the 6 Scottsboro boys accused of raping two white women (prostitutes, the truth must be told) on a train where all were hitching a ride. Inspired by the idea to visit the accusers, she also travels to get the story from Victoria Price, a hardened woman who gives up few secrets, and Ruby Bates, a confused young girl with a desperate desire not to be looked down upon.

The case itself, however, provides the most riveting material. And while Ellen Feldman cannot be given credit for how history plays out, she can be given credit for writing it masterfully. I read greedily to discover what my memory couldn't provide -- how does the case turn out? What about the appeals? Will the anger and hate simmering under the surface boil over? Well, maybe you know, but if you don't, it's really exciting.

Meanwhile, the real jewel here is the story's other narrator, Ruby Bates, a confused tramp (in both senses of the word) whose voice rings out loud and clear. Her dialect is so deftly written -- never so overdone that it becomes distracting -- that I could truly hear Ruby. She's not a heroine, to be sure, but she is written as a very complex, very human character, and Ellen Feldman should be proud of what she has created in her.

This book was a real page-turner and I doubt I will ever forget the sad case of the Scottsboro Boys ever again. Bravo, Ellen Feldman, for bringing their story to life.

The Various Flavors of Coffee by Anthony Capella (plus a little about his other works.)

2009-06-15T12:16:00.002-05:00

Let's talk a little bit about my new favorite author, Anthony Capella. I think I'm in love and I want to tell the world!

I don't read as many modern authors of adult fiction. Raised on a hearty diet of classics (I am an English major), there's a lot about the modern novel that I just don't like. I'm capable of grumbling so much about "books today" that I fear I'll soon be huddled in a corner with my cane asking, "those kids" to "get off my lawn," you know? Anyway, I digress. In some sort of effort to "make it new," something I'm not against in principle, it seems like a lot of authors have decided to dispense with that pesky element known as the plot.

I've read so many books that just sort of meander along, going nowhere, hoping you will love their cool characters and nifty metaphors enough to forget that there is no actual substance there. Weirdly, it works, sometimes. But then I when I get my hand on a really good story, one with a beginning, a middle and an end, the main thing I feel when I get done? "Ahhhhhh... that was satisfying." There's just nothing like a good story, is there?

And that's what Capella writes. Good stories. In some of the most basic ways (boy meets girl, boy loses girl... etc.) they aren't earth-shaking, but as every reader should know, we've been telling the same stories over and over and over again since time began. It's what you can weave into that story that counts. Capella knows how to weave an entrancing tale.

I picked up The Various Flavors of Coffee because I liked the cover. No really. That's how I pick out fully half of what I read. It's a good cover and an intriguing title. I maintain that judging a book by its cover isn't a half bad idea. And in this case, the story more than lived up to it's cover.

Set in the late 1800s, The Various Flavors of Coffee follows Robert Wallis, a young would-be poet and definite fop. Very fashionable and full of epigrams, Wallis has, for all his put-on intellectualism, also just failed out of Oxford. And considering his father is threatening to cut him off financially, he's really beginning to worry. After all, how will he afford his wardrobe?

Lucky for him a Samuel Pinker, coffee merchant, is looking for a writer to help him write a guide to coffee. The idea is to standardize the vocabulary surrounding taste, color, etc, so that the buyers in coffee-growing countries know which coffees to send back to the merchants in England. It may not be a literary journal, but it pays, and it comes with the help of the bewitching Emily Pinker.

Willis quickly falls in love with the spunky, feminist Emily, and is even given her hand in marriage. Provided, that is, that he goes to Africa for Mr. Pinker starts a coffee plantation, and earns his fortune. And so off to Africa he goes, where he also goes and little native, and gets his heart broken in many ways.

Meanwhile, back in England, the woman suffrage movement is heating up and you can guess who is right in the thick of things-- Emily! Yeah, this book covers a lot of stuff; colonization, women's rights, industrialization, capitalism, love, romance... it's epic.

Ah, what a story!

Meanwhile, Capella is the master of making food (or coffee in this case) a great foil for the characters and the plot. Capella, you will not be surprised to know, is a food writer. But it isn't some foodie gimmick. Foods really become integral to the story -- almost a character in and of itself.

Another thing Capella manages to consistently capture is the quirkiness of life. That borderline absurdity we've all got in our lives and barely notice because its been with us so long. The werid relative. The odd living situation. You know what I mean. He's able capture such things for the great little moments of humor they provide. His books really run the gamut. They are romantic, sad, sweet, funny, tragic, and everything in between. You know, like real life.

I adored The Various Flavors of Coffee so much, I got my hands on another Capella book, The Wedding Officer, as soon as possible. I'll spare you two reviews, but suffice to say I loved it. I've got his first novel, The Food of Love sitting on my desk right now. It's calling me. "Read me," it says, "Read me now!" Well, I must obey....

(Follow-up: Sadly, I'm a little mixed on The Food of Love. It was cute, but very certainly chick-lit. I enjoyed the Cyrano parallels, but thought the whole was a little dull. However, it wasn't so bad that I won't absolutely rush out to buy the next thing Capella writes -- especially if it is historical fiction!)

Annie's Ghosts by Steve Luxenberg

2009-04-23T19:50:00.003-05:00

Publication Date: May 5, 2009

The subject matter here is fascinating: the stuff of Hollywood films or interesting novels.

After his mother's death (and not from a "deathbed confession" as the book's current blurb claims), journalist Steve Luxenberg learns something startling -- He has an aunt.

Or rather, had.

A letter from a cemetery asking about routine maintenance for a grave helps Steve begin to coax this particular family skeleton out of the closet. See, his mother's sister, Annie, was institutionalized. And as much as Steve might try to justify the obvious shame and embarrassment (even hatred? resentment?) that his mother felt, his difficulties in rationalization increase when he discovers this wasn't some sister his mom barely knew, socked away as a child, or dying young -- Annie was institutionalized when Steve's mother was in her early 20s. His mother had spent a significant portion of her life living with Annie, and Annie didn't die young. She lived into her 50s. She must have been a fixture around the neighborhood. How had his mother kept this secret all these years, and why?

A journalist by trade, Steve begins investigating his own family history, immediately discovering the difficulties that even the state throws in the way of those who would like to learn more about its former wards. As Steve struggles to obtain records and interview family and friends, some of whom are dying before he can speak to them, the reader is along for an exciting ride. Steve's careful research on the institution Eloise, Annie's contemporaries' views on mental illness, and how a physical handicap (malformed leg) might have affected Annie, absolutely shine.

However, at some point the memoir shifts focus, partially because the information Steve can gather about Annie is, ultimately, sparse, and the burning question Steve tries to answer becomes not, "Who was Annie?" but, "Did my Dad know?" While the author barely accepts what his mother has done (and he only accepts it because it is the bare truth) he seems horrified that his father might have been complicit too. It becomes a bit of an obsession and is also when the story loses my interest a little. However, it comes late enough in this otherwise engaging investigation for the reader to already be invested, and carries through to a strong finish.

Ultimately, I really enjoyed reading Annie's Ghosts. I had a very hard time putting it down and read it in as few sittings as possible. It is certainly a great narrative that I will be haunted by for years to come.

Graceling by Kristin Cashore [Cross Post]

2009-03-07T14:54:00.004-06:00

I may like this book more than any of the other award winners and honorees I've read this season. The pace is great, the story is engrossing, and the whole thing is very compelling. I think it teaches some very interesting lessons without being too didactic, as well.

Katya, like a few others in her world, is "graced," meaning she has a sort of special gift or power. In Katya's case she is a fighter -- a killer, really. And everyone knows. You see, they can tell by the look in her eyes. No, not the murderous glint, but the fact that her eyes are two different colors, as are the eyes of all "gracelings."

She lives in a dangerous world of five scheming kingdoms, and is used by her uncle, King Randa, to mete out his own brand of harsh justice. For Randa she must break arms and intimidate, and she leads a lonely life. Gracelings are generally mistrusted, and a graceling who can kill with such ease....

However, in her own way, Katya is trying to fight back. She's created a council of do-gooders, who try to counteract the evil the squabbling kings have inflicted upon the world. It is during a mission for the council, saving a kidnapped foreigner, that she first meets Po, another graced fighter.

Po makes Katya's world a little less lonely, and a little more mystifying. She enjoys a fellow fighter who is a true challenge to her skills, and who seems to share her sense of justice. So it seems natural that they set out together to discover the mystery behind the aforementioned kidnapping and end up on a mission to make the world a better place.

I feel a little handicapped in that I don't want to mention too much and ruin the fun of reading this great story for yourself. There are simply all sorts of twists and turns and surprises that make this story great.

Like others, I'm very taken with Katya as a heroine. She's strong, she's smart, and she doesn't depend on anyone. (Although, I'd like to see, for once, a sort of feminist hero who isn't quite so tomboyish. I'm a feminist and I still enjoy wearing pretty dresses. The two aren't mutually exclusive!) I like that she never sacrifices her ideals.

Perhaps my only complaint is that although the fast pace was exciting, I might have enjoyed a little slowdown in exchange for a longer book. However, I'm not a teen or a reluctant reader, so there are trade-offs.

I also don't like Po's name... but I got over it.

The ending was a little deus ex machina, but I got over that too. At least Katsa dealt with it in an emotionally complex manner.

Trianing Up a Child in the Way She Should Go

2009-02-24T17:18:00.001-06:00

After an unsuccessful search for both Pigeon books and Elephant and Piggie books, I think of something that just might make up for the disappointment.

"Hold on," I say, pulling something out from under my desk, "This is an advance copy of the newest Elephant and Piggie book. That means it isn't on sale yet. Wanna read it?"

She nods eagerly and disappears into a corner for 20 minutes, coming back with a huge smile on her face.

"Did you like it?"

She nods and giggles.

"Now, when the book comes out in June, you can brag to all your friends, 'Oh that? I read that months ago.'"

A devious glint appears in her eyes and I know I have done my job.

Question of the Day

2009-02-19T18:01:00.001-06:00

A fourth-grade girl: "Do you have any urban drama books for children?"

Wintergirls by Laurie Halse Anderson

2009-02-12T19:01:00.002-06:00

Release Date: March 19, 2009

I hate to use the word "harrowing" because it is the same word everyone else keeps using in connection with this book, but, really, there is a reason for that. When it comes to a story like this, you suddenly find your vocabulary is much more limited and inadequate that you formerly believed it to be.

Wintergirls is the story of 18 year-old Lia who ought to be worrying about college applications and maybe boyfriends, but instead she can focus on only her weight and her dead former best friend. While others were glad she and Cassie has stopped talking months before -- both sets of parents sure the each girl was supporting the eating disorder of the other -- Lia can't get over the fact that the night she died, Cassie called her over 30 times. And Lia never answered the phone.

Lia, who is deft at fooling those around her about her physical and mental health, spirals deeper into depression and weight loss, and eventually begins to be haunted by Cassie. Her stepmother tries to help, but Cassie pushes her away. Her mother no longer sees her enough and her father is happy to be oblivious. The only person she has to live for is her beloved stepsister Emma, but can that be enough?

Although I've never struggled with anorexia, I have been a teenaged girl, and this book made me remember with gut-wrenching pangs what it was like to be 18 and have body issues. I think most teenage girls can relate. I have studied anorexia -- it was my project for abnormal psychology in any case -- and I think Anderson has done a fantastic job capturing what the disease does to a person mentally and physically.

A great peek into the mind of an anorexic and sure to be beloved by teenage girls everywhere.

Where Is My Mind?

2009-02-10T16:22:00.002-06:00

When asked for a book about "bible stuff" for a teenager in Christian school to read for an oral presentation, the first book that I coughed up was both very extra-biblical and has sex scenes (as I hear the mom on the phone with her daughter going, "Well, I am sure it won't have sex in it!") The second was extremely speculative fiction and third thing that came to mind had nothing to do with the bible at all. Just Christians.

I may need to work on my reader's advisory skills.

Thank God for the catalog and keyword searches.

The Last Witch of Langenburg: Murder in a German Village by Thomas Robisheaux

2009-02-04T14:28:00.007-06:00

The Last Witch of Langenburg is a fascinating look at the mechanics of witch trials as well as an interesting account of one of the latest convictions of a woman for witchcraft. Perhaps one of the more interesting things, and a blessing for readers, is how well-documented the trial is and author Thomas Robisheaux delivers this bounty of information in a very engaging narrative. While it is historical non-fiction, it reads, at times, like an historical thriller.

Robisheaux makes the smart move of diving immediately into the story, beginning with the miller's daughter, Eva Küstner traveling around her village delivering small cakes for the holiday of Shrove Tuesday, Mardi Gras' more tame cousin. From court testimony, we learn of her neighbor's deep suspicions about the delivery of the cakes, which will help lead to the accusation of witchcraft. Then of the dramatic death of villager Anna Fessler the evening after eating one of her cakes seals the deal. It is only then that Robisheaux goes into some of the more dry background details of the holiday of Shrove Tuesday, the tradition of baking cakes for it, and why witchcraft, rather than simple murder by poisoning, was Küstner's neighbors' conclusion. A wise decision, I think, to begin with the dramatic, involving the reader before moving on to some of the more academic material.

Robisheaux continues in this vein, giving the reader a bit of the story and a bit of the background as the town's leaders and citizens become embroiled in the investigation of witchcraft. Most fascinating to the modern reader is the contrast between the rising notion of justice, fair trials, forensics, and the consultation of scientific experts, versus the almost medieval notion of witchcraft. How the contemporary town leaders reconciled the two makes for a great narrative and one that Robisheaux explores to its fullest. Luckily for the reader, it is also this commitment to the proper legal process that produces all the documents that make this account such a full story. Rather than relying on speculation and reconstruction based on typical attitudes of the time, we get to hear the opinions and statements of the persons involved in their own words, a treat not often found in accounts of persons not royal of very famous in their times.

I also appreciate that Robisheaux mostly sticks to information relevant to the case. Although some of the information about the Thirty Years War, for instance, was a little dry, it was also very necessary background information. However, because of this, I would not recommend this book to anyone who does not usually enjoy reading historical non-fiction. While as a reader of both historical fiction and nonfiction I appreciated the narrative portions of the story and the attempt to create a more dramatic development, this book is firmly rooted in the world of practical, academic information. However, for those who are interested in history, witchcraft, the justice system, or simply looking for a great history book, The Last Witch of Langenburg is a very satisfying story that will certainly fit the bill.

A Conversation

2008-12-03T18:50:00.001-06:00

"Oh, for me? Thank you for the picture! That's very nice! And is that a gun? Oh, okay. Yeah. And does that say 'Gat Attack' or 'Got Attacked?' And why is he standing in a puddle again, dear?"

(All I really said were the first two sentences.)

Really Great Giveaway

2008-11-26T14:50:00.001-06:00

I try not to do this too often, mostly because I don't want to go crazy with the book contest entries and annoy y'all, but Presenting Lenore really does have a great giveaway going on for the entire Gemma Doyle Trilogy signed by the author.

Also, I like this blog, especially because she, like me, is a big LibraryThinger.

So, wish me luck and I'll wish you the same!

Best. Week. Ever.

2008-11-23T13:20:00.000-06:00

Several days ago, I got a nice little package in the mail. It was my very own copy of The Kite Runner, which I know I am way behind in reading, and which I won courtesy of Stone Soup! (If you like great giveaways, and who doesn't, Stone Soup is the place to go.)

I devoured it. Thanks so much for the opportunity to win it.

Then, just the other day, I got a really big package in the mail. Yes, it was the giant box o'books I won from Stacy at Welcome to my Tweendom.

I must confess, when I found out I won I was thinking I'd keep Do Not Open, because I love it, and Take Me Back, because I was interested, and donate the rest to the library.

But it turns out I won the word's coolest box of non-fiction books ever. The former two were all that I'd hoped for and everything else is awesome +1. Now I'm feeling selfish because I'm totally hoarding them all!

So thanks again to both of you for throwing a little cheer into these dreary November days.

Sunny Gets Dressed

2008-11-11T10:49:00.001-06:00

It's a chilly day today -- what a perfect day to wear that sweater I like so much. The one that looks like a nice woolly cardigan over a charcoal shell.

My hair is too long. I've been meaning to get it cut. So I'll just pull it up in that bun clip I bought to keep it out of my way.

Hmmm... can't wear the rimless glasses today. I don't have enough time this morning to make sure my eye makeup is flawless. It sure shows in those frameless glasses when it isn't. Guess I'll just wear my dark plastic frames.

And it is only when pulling into the parking lot at work that it occurs to me. I have dressed up like a librarian this morning. I look more Nancy Pearl than Nancy Pearl.

The truth will always out, I suppose.

Sunny's Rule

2008-11-04T11:56:00.001-06:00

If I stuff anything into my mouth (although it goes double if it is something very chewy or if I just decided "There's no one around. I might as well stuff a handful of chips in my mouth") then someone will come and ask me a question. Even if the library was completely empty, someone will materialize in front of my desk just for this very purpose, making me look less than dignified and unprofessional.

Pimp my Bookcart

2008-11-01T14:59:00.001-05:00

Concerns about the name of the even aside, Pimp my Bookcart is a great contest put on my the folks that write the library comic Unshelved.

As usual, there are some fabulous entries this year. Personal faves include:

Animal Crackers!

Get Tempted @ Your Library (feat. Nancy Pearl)

The Spook-Mobile (the contest deadline was Halloween!)

This Optimus Prime Cart
that (Click on the Link!) actually Transforms!

But for the sheer level of detail, I'm going to have to pick this
Jetsons Cart as my favorite of the year.

Seriously, you should check out all the awsome pics, though. There were plenty of others to love, like the cart that matches the bookmobile, or the Olivia cart, or the Ancient Egyptian cart complete with bookslaves... you get the idea!

The King and Mrs. Simpson by Erin Frances Schulz

2008-10-30T19:33:00.002-05:00

To some extent I feel a little guilty that many of the things I did not like about this book were honestly stated in the book itself. Promoted as a "Beach History," The King and Mrs. Simpson is meant to be a short "snapshot" of a specific historical event, not an exhaustive portrait of a period in time.

While the concept appeals, (How many times have I gotten mired in the description of something like a naval battle when all I was trying to read about was the mistresses of a certain king?) it is my opinion that the execution fell a little flat.

For one thing, the story was so far from exhaustive as to be overly brief. I knew very little about the romance between Edward and the American divorcee to begin with, and after having read this book, I feel like I know little more. I was excited to read their story -- I've always found it romantic -- but the barest details were offered. While there is a natural drama to the story, the brevity never really allows the proper suspense to build. In the end, all I really got was the briefest structure of a story, when what I was hoping for was a tight focus that would really look into one particular aspect of history.

Another disappointment was the lack of photographs. Many were referenced in the tale and it would have been lovely to have them to look at after having them described.

However, I know I'm a little unusual. My last "beach book" was The Grapes of Wrath. I like books with heft -- especially biographies. So I suppose there is an audience for this brief "narrative history." I, however, will be looking into the recommended reading that Schulz thoughtfully provides at the end of the story.

My burgler... of sorts.

2008-10-30T18:41:00.001-05:00

The other morning my husband comes rushing into the bedroom declaring, "If you hear a lot of noise, it's just me trying to get the raccoon out of the house."

"Oh, okay... Wait. The what? Out of where?"

"The raccoon."

"Out of where?"

"The house."

That I was confused is understandable. I'd just woken up, after all. Poor husband -- right after he woke up, he found a raccoon in the house. He thought it was one of our cats at first. All he wanted was his morning coffee.

As he shooed out our thief, I realized there was no way I could go back to sleep, so I got up to survey the damage. What I want to know is what did this raccoon have against me?

The house was trashed. He went through my purse. You could tell because he dragged out my money. He tore apart all the cat toys. (I'm still wandering across little toy mouse heads. Of course, I'm glad it isn't the real thing this time.) He ate all the cats' food and drank all their water. (Well, at least he wasn't rabid.) He ate my Doritos. (No, really! Right out of their little 100 calorie pack. There were crumbs everywhere.)

But the real reason I know the raccoon had it out for me? Because he dug all of my underwear out of the bathroom laundry hamper and dragged it all over the house.

Noah said it was a bit like a teenager had come in. At least he didn't find the beer.

As I sat down on my sofa to have my morning coffee, I settled right into a big puddle of what could only be raccoon pee. I've never moved so fast on my messed up knee. Coffee everywhere too.

So the cat windoor has had to come down. The cats are going to revolt soon, I'm sure, but I could not risk that little 'coon bringing back his friends to the awesome party house.

Of course, right after the husband managed to get the little blighter out I realized that I had one very important question that I hadn't asked yet.

"Was he cute?"

"Yes. Very cute."

I'm kinda sad I missed him.

Mea Culpa

2008-10-28T17:04:00.001-05:00

I've been alternately busy/depressed/tired/forgetful (or some combination of all 4) for the past several weeks.

So, basically, I find myself thinking either, "Oh, I will post that when I have time," "Why should I bother posting that? Nobody cares," "I will post that when I feel up to it," or "Oh, I should have posted that." Or some combination of all four.

Everything just went insane all at once. My knee. My cat. My job. My life. Or some combination of all four. (You knew that was coming, right?)

Long story short my knee is much better, although not so much better that I haven't been ordered into another 6 weeks of therapy, my elbow isn't so hot and hurts all the time, my cat is much better but we still won't know everything until the followup visit, I miss my coworker who left last week and not just because of the extra work, I'm not sure I have friends anymore because I never see them, and I've read several good things which I really ought to review.

Oh, and remind me to tell you about the break-in. (It's funny. Not scary. Well not really scary. Not like the fact that two people got shot right around the corner from me. That is rather scary.) I'll get around to it tomorrow. Maybe.

I Am a Liar

2008-10-14T13:13:00.001-05:00

I always tell people, after they ask for recommendations and I give them some books, "If you don't want it, just leave it right here. If it doesn't look interesting to you, I won't be offended!"

But really, I always am a little offended. I can't help it -- I am human, after all. And, as a voracious reader with some amount of self-confidence, I like to think I know a great book from a bad one. As someone with a slightly high opinion of herself, I like to think that others recognize my genius.

At the same time, it isn't like I want to pressure readers to be just like me, nor do I want people to think of me as "the scary lady who makes you read things", so I'll just sit here in my corner and cry a little.

And send thought waves at the girl that just put down The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian to let her know she is making a big mistake.

The Best Thing About Columbus Day

2008-10-13T09:34:00.001-05:00

People think we are closed.

It is almost completely silent in here. Ha!

I Just Realized

2008-10-11T10:52:00.001-05:00

Groundhog is probably hog as in pig. Like a Guinea Pig.

Not as in an animal that hogs the ground.

Well, if I've thought it all these years, at least it sort of makes sense

Too Bad There Are No Copyrights on Titles

2008-10-07T17:22:00.001-05:00

Ever since one unfortunate incident, when people ask for a copy of Twilight, I have to ask them whether they mean the one about the vampires or the one about the cats.

In hindsight, it should have been obvious that the very young girl didn't need a teenage vampire romance.

My Cheap Internet Glasses

2008-10-07T17:13:00.001-05:00

Thanks to Consumerist and a link to a blog called Glassy Eyes I have discovered the world of really cheap internet glasses.

Now, I just bought a pair of glasses. Not a cheap internet pair, mind, but a $400 dollar Pearl Vision pair. So, when I first read Consumerist's post on Glassy Eyes, I mostly just thought, "Well, great. NOW they tell me."

Then it occurred to me that since they were, in fact, really cheap internet glasses, that I could probably go ahead and buy a pair as my "back up glasses," a job normally performed by my out of date pair. It would also give me a chance to try out a style I might not normally be confident about.

Not to mention a chance to really compare a $400 pair of glasses with a $40 one.

They came in a couple of weeks ago and I love them. They are cute, really cheap, and best of all, I can't tell a bit of difference between them and my super expensive pair. I was paranoid they'd give me headaches or something, but nada.

So now I'm on a roll. I've decided to try out a pair of rimless glasses. About $30 thanks to Zenni Optical. They'll be here in a couple of weeks. (That's the only downside. Still, considering that Pearl Vision messed up my order, and I ended up waiting 12 days for those...)

I think I'll get a pair to match every outfit. ;)

Psychic Patrons

2008-10-02T18:06:00.001-05:00

It's as if, having had the very thought, "Ah! Finally I can sit down after that long and arduous storytime!" they hear me and come flocking to me with questions.

And not just any question, no. Questions that more or less require me to hobble around on my injured leg. Like, helping with the copy machine, or finding a book that is still in the back room waiting to be checked in or, I dunno, finding a book by call number because they have no idea how Dewey works.

Ouch.

I should really learn how to shield my thoughts. Perhaps this will foil them.

Wake Me Up When September Ends

2008-09-30T14:08:00.002-05:00

Seriously. This is not my month.

I usually like September. It contains many things I like such as the children being in school, my birthday, fall, my husband's birthday, football, nice evenings for sitting out on a patio...

But this September has been the worst.

We (by which I mean my husband, but I'll share the blame a little since I was in the car) ran over our own cat yesterday.

That's right. Our own cat. And (don't tell the other kitties) my favorite cat. Even if he is the one that I wrote a post about in which I called him stupid. Even though, as you can see, the reason I called him stupid was for not having the good sense to stay the heck away from cars.

People keep saying, "I'll bet he'll stay away from cars now!" I bet he won't. I love him, but he is not the sharpest crayon in the box. I bet he goes right back to napping behind tires.

So, yeah, he's okay-ish. There's some dislocations (yes, we make quite a pair) and there may need to be surgery, but it could be way worse.

Of course lots of things could be way worse. Let's just hope that October isn't.

Company of Liars Publication Date

2008-09-30T13:14:00.002-05:00

Just a reminder that Company of Liars by Karen Maitland is due out today and that you can read my review of the book here. If you like medieval historical fiction, this one is for you!

Aberrations by Penelope Przekop

2008-09-28T15:08:00.002-05:00

Angel Duet (a delicious name, I think) is 21 years-old, motherless, in a bad relationship, a narcoleptic, and going nowhere fast. The phrase "sleepwalking through life," corny though it may seem, is apt.

However, as the novel begins, certain changes are beginning to affect Angel. A new woman enters her father's life, and disrupts their shrine (both physical and mental) to Angel's mother, Betty Lou. When Angel takes a job at her college in the agricultural department, she both finds herself spending less time with her married lover, and accidentally letting two friends into her life.

And from there, a series of awakenings occur for Angel, again both physical and mental, as she comes into her own, and takes control of her own life.

The language in this novel is perhaps its most shining feature. Przekop really has a gift for flow and description. The story itself was compelling, don't get me wrong, but with the lovely language used here, it could be significantly weaker and still succeed.

Angel herself is a fascinating, if not always likable character. I think this is a definite strength. After all, if I can spend that much time in a character's head, not always like her, and yet still feel the need to keep reading, that really speaks to the strength of the writing. I though the narcolepsy was a nice touch. While central to the character of Angel, it also makes a great metaphor for her personal state, as well as a great comparison point for all the aberrations of those that surround her.

Now, I'm going to get the bad out of the way real quick. Some like the use of dialect, but I don't. I found all the cain't and thangs distracting, even though I know people who actually speak like this. I can't quite put my finger on why, but they come off as distractions rather than adding local color.

And although I understand its significance to the story, I think there was an accidental message (or at least a development that could cause people to read this into the story) that mental problems, unlike "real" diseases, don't require doctors, medicine, and treatment, but just for the mental patient to buck up a little. I don't think this was the intent, but again, a message that could none the less be taken from the book.

Lastly, some of the sexual liasons and situations seem unecessary to me. I just didn't get the character of Scarlet, for instance. Those who have read the book, clue me in, please! Then again, I've noticed myself becoming a bit prudish on this subject. Perhaps I read to many kids' books.

All and all, however, those few issues are, dare I say it? Aberrations. I greatly enjoyed this beautiful and beautifully-written book and hope Przekop has some more novels in her. I'm looking forward to reading them.

(Also the cover is very, very pretty. In the grand scheme of things, I know that there are more important issues. However, a cover is a first impression, and this is a good one.)

People Who Change 35 to 85 On Speed Limit Signs With Spraypaint.

2008-09-28T14:19:00.002-05:00

Why?

Do you think this will work?

"Yes, officer, but see... the speed limit sign says 85! (snicker.)

Why?

Yay! I Won!

2008-09-28T14:09:00.002-05:00

I just wanted to thank Bookish Ruth for her giveaway of the book Aberrations by Penelope Przekop.

I really enjoyed the book and a review is forthcoming... er... probably.

I really need to get my act together!

Well, You Asked [Super Special Back-to-Work Edition]

2008-09-17T12:22:00.002-05:00

Patron: So, did you have a good birthday?

Me: Well, I fell, dislocated my knee and fractured my elbow so uh...

Patron: No, then?

Worst. Birthday. Evar.

2008-09-16T11:46:00.002-05:00

One minute I was having margies and about to go to karaoke, the next I was on the ground screaming bloody murder.

About 5 years back, I slipped on some ice and dislocated my right knee. And now, I'd done it again. There was a funny little dip in the patio I was on, and so it seemed that one second I was standing and heading to the restroom, and the next I was scaring the entire restaurant with my shrieks.

Unlike last time, I couldn't get the knee back into place and so a quick ambulance ride later I'm at the ER telling the x-ray techs not to touch me. It hurts. (Props to the ER nurse who popped her head in the room and told me to stop yelling because it wasn't helping anything and I just needed to stop it.)

Then, the knee popped back into place while the x-ray techs were manipulating it and it was like Jekyll and Hyde. Suddenly I was a sweet, friendly, cooperative patient.

So I've been to the orthopedic doctor now, and thanks to a good knee brace (and some exercises for my broken elbow... did I mention my broken elbow?) I can now go to the potty all by myself.

Yaaaaay! It's like being two.

Thank a brazillion to all my friends who helped me and for everyone who has called and offered their thoughts and errand-running skillz.

I will never forget this birthday!

Company of Liars by Karen Maitland

2008-09-10T11:43:00.003-05:00

Publication Date: September 30, 2008

Let's get something out of the way first: despite how this book has been advertised, this is not a retelling of the Canterbury Tales. It is a good thing that I'm fond of Medieval stories and historical fiction in general, or I may have been disappointed. If I had selected the book solely on that basis, I may well have been very disappointed. The characters are not the same (well, there is a storyteller, but there are no nuns, reeves, knights, millers, etc., etc., and certainly no Wife of Bath), and although they are initially heading for a religious site, it has more to do with the site's location and prospects for employment than any sort of pilgrimage.

As for what the story is, it is a well-told traveling tale set in 1348 during the onset of the Plague. It follows a slowly-growing band of travelers and itinerants, who decide to head to the colder, protected north in an attempt to outrun the pestilence. The story is narrated by a camelot, or seller of religious relics, around whom gather a motley assortment of people such as a pair of musicians, a magician, a storyteller, a nurse, newlywed couple, and a strange little girl. And all of these people have secrets, dark secrets in some cases, that bring violence down upon them.

The sense of fear and urgency that permeates the tale is perfect and makes the novel very hard to put down. To make the fear of the Plague fresh, to help along the understanding of just how desperate people were to try anything in their ignorance is very impressive. I loved the double sense of doom hanging over the company -- both from fear of the disease and their own lies.

There was, perhaps, a bit too much of the supernatural. I tend to prefer clearer divisions of fantasy and historical fiction, so the credence given here to rune reading, fortune telling, and even witchcraft makes me a bit uncomfortable. I've never like the idea of giving witch-burning any sense of legitimacy. Furthermore, as a rather skeptical person who desires accuracy from her historical fiction, it simply isn't to my tastes.

However, the other aspects of the story struck me as remarkably well-researched and interesting. Perhaps the narrator's attitude towards deviance is a little soft for a middle ages character, even a character with personal dark secrets, but, frankly, a novel built entirely on Medieval sensibilities would probably be difficult to read. Most of the other characters and situations were true enough to the times, though, which is good.

Overall, it's a great novel for anyone who loves historical fiction, medieval history, and mysteries, which is quite a good chunk of people! I think the Company of Liars will find a lot of company on bookshelves.

I'm Feeling Guilty Now

2008-09-09T13:42:00.002-05:00

"I need beginning books on French," she says.

"Okay, do you want to take a look at the kids' books or the adult collection? Or maybe some audio books?"

"Let's try kids' books," she responds, "I don't really know any French. See, I'm going to Italy in about a month and so I'm just trying to learn. So, yeah, children's books."

"Wait, you want French, right?"

"Yeah."

So, I gave her what she asked for and she seemed very pleased, but now I'm wondering if it really would have been too condescending to remind her that Italians speak Italian.

The Godfather: Home Edition

2008-09-09T13:37:00.002-05:00

I came home from work yesterday, stepped into the hallway to adjust the thermostat, started to kick away the toy mouse that was in my way, and realized it was not a mouse -- just in time.

Yes, my cat has struck again.

This time, though, as a warning to either us or rodents everywhere, her gift was a single mole head lying on the hallway floor.

Ugh!

I'm rather proud of myself. I calmly walked away and installed myself in a corner until my husband got home and told him that it was definitely his turn to take care of dead animals. I managed not to scream.

Poor guy.

And now, I flinch every time this cat comes into the house. She actually brought in a stick later in the evening. When I heard her drop something on the floor I freaked out. Do you think she is trying to mess with me?

Of course, this whole incident brings to mind one very disturbing question: Where is the rest of the mole?

Is There Anything Better?

2008-09-08T23:18:00.002-05:00

I just discovered 100 Calorie packs of Swedish Fish last week.

My life is now complete.

My Nails Are Too Long

2008-09-08T22:57:00.002-05:00

I cfannnot type. See. See what happe3nd there? And ther3? I just keep thwacking raqndom keys.This is realoy terribkle.

But they look so pretty.

The Problem Is....

2008-09-08T13:38:00.002-05:00

Some children don't have inside voices.

FYI

2008-09-08T11:29:00.002-05:00

Thrusting something in my face does not, in fact, constitute as a question.

Wanna Win The Host? I Do!

2008-09-04T19:34:00.002-05:00

Oooh, lookit! A chance to win The Host by Stephanie Meyer.

I can't believe I haven't read this book yet. I keep trying to win it, and meanwhile I'm on the library's mile-long waiting list for it.

Wish me luck and I might spare you a little luck too. ;)

But I Really Don't Like Golf

2008-09-01T13:28:00.002-05:00

Whatever happened to buttons on the cable box?

I mean, here I am, and I can't find the remote. All I wanna do is have something on in the background while I clean the living room, and instead, I'm having to clean the living room just to find the remote so I can have something on in the background, but then the living room will be clean at that point and that kinda defeats the purpose.

And there are no buttons on the cable box, so even though I'm not too lazy to just get up and change the darn channel, I'm stuck watching golf.

Whew. Glad I got that off my chest.

Vengeance Is Mine by Brandy Purdy

2008-08-30T13:47:00.004-05:00

I'm almost embarrassed I read this.

I mean, I'm not stranger to trashy Tudor fiction -- I have read everything Philipa Gregory has had to say on the subject, for instance. I'm certainly no stranger to actual Tudor history, having been fascinated by the dynamic Henry VIII for as long as I can remember.

This was, without a doubt, the worst, most lurid, and poorly-researched piece of fiction I have every read about the Tudors.

I was so excited by the idea of this book -- who ever tells this story from Jane Boleyn's perspective? -- that even though I requested that my local library order it, I then went out and bought it for myself so Ii wouldn't have to wait. I was really hoping the author could add some facets to a historical figure that is usually propped up like a cardboard villain.

Instead, I got cardboard villain from inside the head of cardboard villain. Her motivations were unclear even as she's explaining them.

But that's not all. There was a serious lack of accuracy in the book, from the usage of nicknames that were not extant at the time, incorrect time lines, alterations of famous speeches, placing historical figures in the wrong place at the wrong time, and a few brazen passages that couldn't have been mistakes. They must have been intentionally incorrect.

I would describe how absolutely pornographic this book was, but I'm afraid this isn't the venue for it. I've read coyer erotica. By the time I got to the ludicrous sex scene between Catherine Howard and Anna of Cleves (no really!), who kept shouting "Ya Liebchen!" (And don't get me started on the whole line about giving the "Flanders Mare" the ride of her life) it just got funny. I was reading passages aloud to my howling friends, tears streaming down our faces.

And yet, it might have gotten away with it all, or at least some of it, if the writing quality was any better than that of your average internet fan fiction. Really, I swear people did not constantly refer to each other as "Bluff King Hal," "The Rose Without a Thorn," "The Goggle-Eyed Whore," and so forth. It's as if the author was so proud of having unearthed these well-known nicknames, she had to use them as frequently as possible. And the dialect of Anna of Cleves (particularly in the aforementioned sex scene) was... oh there are no words.

I'm just so terribly disappointed to see such and interesting subject treated so badly. Although it is non-fiction, and therefore less speculative and exploratory, I guess I'll have to be satisfied with Julia Fox's biography.

For the connoisseur of Tudor history, even the fluffier sort, stay away. There are much better things out there that, even when they aren't 100% accurate, are at least better told.

Sometimes They Don't Quite Get It

2008-08-30T13:32:00.002-05:00

A child howls across the building, "Be QUIET! This is a LIBRARY!"

My Stupid Cat

2008-08-28T20:43:00.003-05:00

One of my cats doesn't have the good sense not to stand in the middle of the driveway.

I think he's happy, "Oh! The lady's home!"

He tries to "greet" my car.

Inevitably, I have to park the car, open the door, lure the cat into the car, and then drive into the carport.

He thinks the ride is cool.

Perhaps this is why he stands in the driveway.

Yes, I'm Afraid I Did

2008-08-28T20:41:00.003-05:00

I just walked up to my house, very carefully aimed my car remote at the front door, and pushed the "Unlock" button.

It'd be nice if that worked.

What The?

2008-08-26T11:17:00.003-05:00

Is What Women Want really that great of a movie? I shouldn't think so.

Why are all of our copies stolen or worn out then?

Come Again?

2008-08-23T10:33:00.002-05:00

I really wish I could click on my own Google ads because I swear there is one down at the bottom of my blog right now that says, "Shawn Johnson Cat Bowl."

What is that all about?

Ponies?

2008-08-23T10:28:00.003-05:00

I've been trying to clean up my language.

Sometimes the curse word substitution goes a little haywire, though.

Last night I undid my seatbelt and the thing whipped up at lightening speed and whacked the very tip of my elbow really freakin' hard. Seriously, it still hurts almost a day later. It hurt. Bad.

"Ow!" I scream. So far so good. Then something stating with "p" starts to come out of my mouth. I can't be sure, but I think it was probably going to be "piss," which is not the best word to be using, so I guess my brain went into auto-convert mode.

And came up with... ponies.

"Ponies!" I shout. Then, "Ponies?"

Then alternating between laughing and crying because that has got to be the most ridiculous "curse word" I have ever come up with, but my elbow still hurts a lot.

Ponies? Well, I guess it's better than the F-word.

I Just Realized

2008-08-20T18:03:00.003-05:00

I spend a lot of time on the internet doing incredibly narcissistic things like going over my Google Analytics stats, checking my Amazon reviews for "not helpful " votes (of which I have entirely too many, in my opinion) and Googling my own name.

It's sad, and yet, I can't be the only one, right?

Another Cool Giveaway

2008-08-20T16:48:00.002-05:00

Check out this post to learn about Penelope Przekop's book Abberations and how you can win a copy.

I Know I Am a Bad Person

2008-08-19T10:28:00.003-05:00

Because I find it kind of funny that the barcode of our audio copy of C.S. Lewis' The Silver Chair ends in "666."

Joy

2008-08-18T17:13:00.002-05:00

Sometimes life delivers those perfect moments. Like when you think, "Boy, I really wish I had some chocolate," and the you realize, "But wait! I do! I do have some chocolate!"

It Was Like A Hitchcock Movie

2008-08-18T16:47:00.002-05:00

So I got up this morning around 10 am to get ready for a dentist appointment at 11:30. It was a nice leisurely chunk of time I had as I putzed around the house choosing clothes and getting coffee.

Until I walked into the living room.

And found a dead bird on the floor.

Good morning!

I knew who'd brought me this present -- my insane cat Pippa who, although a complete weenie in every other aspect of her little feline life, is actually a very good hunter. She rid our lawn of the mole problem, for instance, and has been kind enough to deliver to the front steps a snake on one occasion, and a GIANT MOTH on another. She is useful for catching bugs when they fly into the living room.

After contemplating leaving it on the floor for my husband to deal with (I can be a rather militant feminist at times, but not when it comes to dead birds!), I realized I was going to have to go quadruple-bag my hand and throw it out myself.

I managed to accomplish this without gagging too much, although the puddle of blood left on the floor was simply doused in Lysol and covered with a towel. There's only so much a girl can do.

I went back to getting ready when I heard the cat flap open and Pippa happily chattering in the living room. I do not know why this didn't set off alarm bells, as this was a very specific meow that means only one thing: I have caught something. I figured she was still happy over the present she'd left me and pleased to see I had apparently devoured it.

I walked in to yell at her, even though I knew she'd have no idea why, and I yelled at her all right. I believe what a yelled was, "Son of a @*#&^!"

She'd brought in another bird.

And this one wasn't dead.

Now I'm really freaking out because putting poor half-dead birds out of their misery is definitely not part of my job description. Yet tossing a half-alive bird out on the lawn was a kind of cruelty of which I also wasn't capable. However, the bird kindly solved my dilemma.

When it started flying!

Suddenly grateful to have such a brave, hunter-cat, I started shouting, "Go get it Pippa," while running into the bathroom. I don't know what I thought it was going to do to me, but it was freaking out big time, and so was I.

Pippa, ever helpful -- get this! -- ran and hid under the couch. Thanks! Great!

And the bird flew straight for the back bedroom. Of course, the windows don't open in there. Actually, it is an old house and most of the windows don't open, but this is beside the point.

After cowering in fear for a few minutes, I finally realized I was either going to have to call the dentist ("Uh... sorry, I won't be able to make my appointment today. There is a bird in my house."), or do something proactive. So I girded my loins, opened the front door so the bird could get out, and went into the back bedroom armed with a fly swatter.

I figured a fly swatter would be gentle enough to prod the poor, traumatized thing without actually hurting it.

After several alarming prodding incidents in which I only convinced it to flap from one closed window to the other, I finally got up the courage to swat at it midair, getting it to fly into the living room. Once in there, it hid behind the giant bookcase for a few minutes. ("Great," I thought, "Go right for the piece of furniture I can't move.")

Finally it flew to the door stoop, and then sat there idiotically until I shooed it away with my mighty fly swatter...

Only to realize something horrible. You see, the cat had interrupted me during my getting ready routine. Specifically, in the stage where I had taken off my nightshirt in anticipation of putting on my clothes for the day.

And there I was, in the middle of the day, standing in my open front door, topless, brandishing a hot pink flyswatter.

My cat is in big trouble when I get home.

Kill Me Now

2008-08-16T16:20:00.002-05:00

Is there anything worse than being sick and at work?

Normally, these aren't circumstances I would encounter but 1) This morning, I couldn't be sure it wasn't just allergies, 2)We are already short staffed and 3)Thanks to my stupid teeth I don't have any sick time anyways.

So, sorry to anyone I infect. I promise I'm using hand sanitizer every three seconds, and trying not to drip mucous.

Ew.

Who Wants to Know?

2008-08-16T16:10:00.003-05:00

I get automatically defensive when any customer asks for my name, even when they are obviously just trying to be friendly or maintain the same point of contact.

Years of experience in customer service have taught me that there is almost never a good reason a customer would want your name. I'm sure it is genetically encoded by now.

A Dream Deferred (Indefinitely)

2008-08-16T13:56:00.002-05:00

I'm not sure why I don't remember any Olympics before 1992, but I know that for my two best friends and I, this was a golden year -- the year we were introduced to Shannon Miller.

I had wanted to be a lawyer and ballerina (Not at the same time. It used to infuriate me that my mother and aunt would make jokes about how I would be making opening arguments in a pink tutu and pirouette while cross-examining the witnesses. The dreams of six year-olds are fragile.)

But no more. I had a new calling, as did my friends. We were going to be gymnasts.

For awhile there, everything we did was "Olympic."

I remember "Olympic Couch Flips," "Olympics Somersaults," "Olympic Trampoline Jumping," "Olympic Pool Flips,"and heavens knows what else. We were a competitive bunch.

We'd have "Olympic Swing Jumping," wherein we'd get the swing to its zenith and then leap off and try to land on our feet, sticking the landing like a proper gymnast.

I broke my arm doing that one.

Bless my mother for never telling me that I was too darn clumsy to ever be a gymnast. She did point out that, for one, gymnasts usually got their start much earlier that 10, and that she really couldn't afford gymnastics lessons anyway.

No matter. For a golden couple of summers, it was still my dream. (In the winters, of course, I was training to be Nancy Kerrigan.) I remember the glorious day I finally got the nerve to do a back flip on the trampoline. I probably missed the landing, but no matter. It would come. I remember learning to do a back bend by walking down a wall, then my legs, and then being able to do it without any support at all. I remember my first wobbly handstand that didn't require me to lean up against a wall.

Now I am older, achier, fatter, and possibly wiser -- though I am still the right height for a gymnast -- and I can't even do a proper cartwheel. I don't know how I used to convince myself to put my feet over my head. My brain revolts at the very thought these days. Although I still love gymnastics, I no longer dream of being a competitor.

Or do I?

I was in the kitchen after the floor exercises concluded, and suddenly I noticed myself gliding towards the fridge, music running through my head, while I flexed my leg in front of me. I turned, did a little hop as if ending a long bounding pass, and then stuck my arms up in the air, smiling at the crowd.

And I know somewhere in me I still think, "What if?" I can see the headlines now, "World's Oldest Gymnast Receives Gold Medal." I wonder what Bela Karolyi is doing?

As Dr. Cox says, "Help me to help you, Barbie. Help me to help you. Help me to help you. Help me to help you."

2008-08-14T18:07:00.002-05:00

(If you don't watch Scrubs, the above will have made little sense. Bad you! You should be watching Scrubs!)

Clueless Kid with Textbook: I need help looking this up. (Gestures vaguely at textbook page.)

Me: Looking what up?

CKwTB: Uh...

Me: Like, the Indian tribes listed here? These words in bold?

CKwTB: Uh...

Me: What was the assignment?

CKwTB: To write it.

Me: Write what?

CKwTB: Uh... I just need to write it. But I need to look this up.

Me: Again, write what? Look what up? What did your teacher ask you to do?

CKwTB: Uh...

(After several minutes of me trying to squeeze out of him what his teacher's instructions might have been, him digging through his back pack to see if he wrote the assignment down, and a lot of, of course, "Uh...")

Me: Okay. I can't help you if I can't understand what you need to do. If you find an assignment sheet or think of another way to explain this, let me know, right?

And I'm thinking, you guessed it, "Help me to help you, Barbie. Help me to help you. Help me to help you!"

For All You Gaiman Fans Out There

2008-08-14T14:01:00.002-05:00

Check this out!

I Dunno. Are They Broken?

2008-08-13T16:59:00.002-05:00

I don't normally share things like this, but for some reason, this one gave me the giggles. I was checking the data on my Google Analytics account (yes, I'm watching you all) and reviewing the terms people had typed in to search engines to get here.

Edgar Sawtelle was definitely the hot item, but at the very bottom there was this poor little entry:

"why are my 3 teeth hurt"

Bless. I cannot answer this question. I have only 2 hurting right now, which is actually good for my sad, sad, little teeth. I feel sorry for anyone whose 3 teeth hurt.

I'm Like Newton

2008-08-12T19:44:00.002-05:00

For every patron who thinks one of the computers is "broken" because the screen is turned off, there is another patron who turns the screen back on after I have turned it off on purpose because we are about to close.

What the...?

2008-08-11T09:35:00.002-05:00

Sitting at my desk, typing away, when a man approaches.

"Hi," he says.

"Um... hi?" I say.

"I am from India!" he chirps and walks away.

The Sound of Silence

2008-08-11T09:34:00.002-05:00

Why is it so...

I mean there isn't any...

And there's practically nobody here and...

Where is all the noise?

Oh! Yes! The kids have gone back to school! Woooooooohoooo!

I Wish I Could Spell/Type

2008-08-09T16:06:00.002-05:00

Then I might not have wasted 5 minutes trying to figure out why we didn't have a catalog entry for Dairy of a Wimpy Kid.

Sheesh, that sounds like it would be a boring book too, doesn't' it?

Why?

2008-08-09T15:21:00.002-05:00

If I shelved it one way, and you tried to put it back a different one and it didn't fit right, why would it not occur to you that maybe I shelved it an unusual way for a reason?

If you looked in the catalog and saw the book was unavailable, why did you ask me to find it?

If a receipt printer is jammed, why would you tug and pull at things, messing the whole thing up further, rather than turning around, walking 2 feet, and asking for help?

If I told you an hour ago that we did not have your summer reading book why would you ask again?

These and many more questions cause me to lose sleep at night.

Possibly the Coolest Thing EVAR!

2008-08-07T19:06:00.002-05:00

In Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, a curious book is mentioned, in which our trio discovers what, exactly, the deathly hallows are -- that book was The Tales of Beedle the Bard.

Rowling went on to produce 7 hand-crafted editions of this previously fictional book, 6 of which went to friends, and one of which was purchased by Amazon.com for the staggering sum of almost 4 million dollars. (The money was donated to charity.)

And that was it.

But, OMG OMG OMG OMG, Amazon and Scholastic are now offering copies of The Tales of Beedle the Bard for sale!

Of course, it is hard not to crave the deluxe edition, made to look like the handcrafted versions Rowling produced. (Ahem, people, I do have birthday in September and there's always Hanukkah, LOL.)

However, the regular edition is coming at a very nice price, and you can pre-order either now.

I expect she'll raise millions all over again, but the proceeds are still going to charity. YAY!

(Hint Hint)

2008-08-07T15:54:00.002-05:00

Amazon has done something really cool.

They've got this "universal wishlist button" so, you know, not everything you put on there has to be from Amazon.

Some people (hint hint) may have not had an Amazon wishlist in the past, but (hint hint) think this new feature is really nifty and may have created one. And these people (hint hint) may or may not have a birthday coming up!

Ahem. That is all.

It's That Time of Year Again

2008-08-06T18:40:00.002-05:00

No, we do not have (insert popular/common summer reading title here).

Yes, when I said "we" I meant all branches in our system.

If, on the odd chance another branch does have it, no I cannot guarantee we can get it here by tomorrow. I can't even guarantee we'll have it in less than a week.

If, on the odd chance we do have it, and it is piled in the back somewhere, having just been returned 5 minutes ago, no I cannot guarantee I will find it in that big ol' pile.

Don't get angry at me. I'm not the one who waited a scant few days before school started to do my summer reading, now am I?

Reunited (And it feels so good!)

2008-08-06T18:36:00.002-05:00

After much agonizing, I decided to get my laptop fixed.

Sure, I'd like a new laptop, but there are other things I can spend my money on right now.

So she's back and all fixed, and boy am I glad! I missed her more than I thought I would, even if she is an almost 5 year-old off-brand laptop.

She's my 5 year-old off-brand laptop, by golly!

And the Bathroom Wasn't Even Dirty!

2008-08-05T12:08:00.001-05:00

Attention: If you are going to make one of those toilet paper nests because you refuse to sit on a toilet seat, please flush your nest down the toilet.

Because you might not want to sit on the toilet seat, but I *really* don't want to sit on your butt-protector.

Thanks.