I fear this is going to be one of those posts that ramble, and are held together with good intentions and chewing gum. While on some fronts the cancer battle is going well, the bone pain went from bad to worse at the end of the year, to the point that the medical team all nodded and said, “radiation. Again.” Between that and the Zometa they seem determined to beef up my bones (No soup joke intended.) and, with luck, give me a break from the discomfort.
Well… radiation is no joke, especially the second time around when it came at me like a coked-up baboon with a flaming sledgehammer. If I started to read I’d fall asleep almost immediately, so for the last few months I’ve relied on audiobooks, though many of them failed to hold my interest. I’m not going to list them here though, since it’s not their fault they didn’t keep me reading.
What Worked and What Didn’t:
The Sins of Jack Saul, by Glenn Chandler – Interesting account of the life of an Edwardian-era rent boy, about the ease with which he slid into the life, and the way he affected the whole “Uranian” culture, such as it was. In a real sense Jack was an early gay-rights proponent. He wasn’t always on the side of the angels, but his (relatively) unashamed approach to the way he lived and loved was very much an in-your-face challenge to the upright, uptight, and often hypocritical Edwardian society. If you’re looking to dig a bit deeper into Queer history, this is worth a look.
The Living Blood, by Tananarive Due – Sequel to My Soul to Keep, and just as good, but alas the narrative lost me in the midst of some of my most uncomfortable days, and I returned it to the library before finishing it. I hope to get back to it one of these days.
Less is Lost, by Andrew Sean Greer – Sequel to Less, it picks up not long after the events of Less. Less and Freddy are now together, and living in the house that belonged to Less’ ex, whose death sends Arthur and Freddy into a financial tizzy. Arthur is forced to take on various publicity events to promote his new book, and Freddy is restless and looking to make writing his career too. Both of them have serious questions about their relationship.
While Arthur goes rambling around the US on his various publicity jobs, he finds himself exploring what it means to be an American, what it means to fit in and why he might want to, what it means to love Freddy in light of his own past failures, and a whole lot of the other questions and concerns that Arthur carries around in that over-stuffed brain of his.
As always, he’s charming, funny, sad, smart, insightful (though he doesn’t always realize it) and SO worth your time.
Dodge and Twist, by Tony Lee — Sounded like fun; Oliver Twist and the Artful Dodger team up again a dozen or so years after the events of Dickens’ novel. Oliver is seeking justice after having had his inheritance stolen from him. Dodger has an audacious plan to steal the Koh-i-noor diamond. But after an hour or so I started feeling that it was formulaic and a lot less imaginative as I had hoped. Doubt I’ll finish it. If anyone else does and wants to warn me away, or urge me to finish, please feel free.
Started & Determined to Finish:
The Bullet That Missed, by Richard Osman – Another in the Thursday Murder Club series, and it starts out just as wonderfully quirky as I hoped and expected. I just can’t stay awake over hard copy right now.
Siren Queen, by Nghi Vo – Really intriguing so far!
Truly, Madly, Alan Rickman – Rickman’s diaries from 1993 through his death. Difficult until you get the rhythm of his writing style, often obscure and occasionally oddly cryptic. It’s a lot of work sometimes, so I’m taking it slow.
The Magician, by Colm Toibin – This took so long to come in at the library that by the time it dropped I’d forgotten what it was about. It’s not a fantasy about magick-workers, it’s a novel about Thomas Mann! I’m a couple of chapters in and enjoying it. Finding the style enchanting.
The Road to Hell is Paved with Books That Never Had a Chance
So many books passed through my library accounts in the last few months, including some Enola Holmes books, and a few socio-political books from people whose social media I follow. And I have not been able to do more than open them, sigh, and close them again. Some don’t even get that far. But I’m hoping things will even out again in the near future, and I’ll be reading the way I always have. Wish me luck.
Hmmm, we’re a week into October and I haven’t done anything about my reading recap for last month. Some days it’s just not possible to accomplish anything.
Let me start with two titles I did not finish. The first was Paul Tremblay’s The Cabin at the End of the World, which I picked up because I had been encountering a lot of talk about it. I was warned that it was disturbing, but I underestimated my ability to deal with how disturbing it actually was. I’m not sure I’ll ever be willing to go back to it, but you never know.
The second was Bel Canto by Ann Patchett. I honestly can’t tell you exactly where or why I lost interest. Patchett’s prose is lovely, and the developing story looked to be interesting enough. But one day I just closed the book and moved on. Again, I don’t know that I won’t ever go back to it, but right now it doesn’t seem likely.
Cloud Cuckoo Land, by Anthony Doerr – This was the first book I finished last month, and in all honesty, I think it was my favorite. In part, I suppose, that had to do with the fact that I spent a lot of time watching The Sandman on Netflix, and found myself deeply involved in questions about the power of stories, and why we need them. Cloud Cuckoo Land is a book about stories, one in particular, the threads of which inform all the story arcs within the novel. One story, five arcs each revolving around a single character who is somehow tied to an ancient manuscript. Each one of them leads a wholly different life from each of the others, but the ancient tale is meaningful to all of their lives. It’s an extraordinary book about how we need our stories, we need to hear them and we need to tell them to truly understand who we are.
Sandman deluxe edition Vol 1, by Neil Gaiman– Once I started watching the series on Netflix I wanted to go back and reacquaint myself with the graphic novel it was based on. And then I watched the series again and reread this volume, all of which gave me new things to think about so I’m going to re-review it this month.
As with Cloud Cuckoo Land, Sandman is about the power of stories as well. There’s a reason why Morpheus is also known as the Prince of Stories. The Endless (Destiny, Death, Dream, Destruction, Desire, Despair, and Delirium who was Delight) are siblings who serve humanity via their roles, but all of them except for Dream are stark realities of life. Only Dream can really expand on the meaning of that life through the dreams he fashions from the sleeping minds of humans. He’s the one who gives a greater meaning to all the others, the one who helps us understand and assimilate the others.
This first volume contains the whole of the first season of the show, and if you’re a fan of the latter, I really recommend you read it. Though I will say that much of it is harsh, some of it is dated, and ultimately I think the series does a better job of explaining the mythos of the Endless than the books do. Not a surprise, really. When an author has a chance to revisit their work after several decades, of course things are going to change. Any decent author has spent those decades thinking “If I could do it over again, I’d change _____.”
Earthseed: Parable of the Sower, by Octavia Butler – I picked this up on the strength of my enjoyment of the Lilith’s Brood trilogy from last month. And while I enjoyed it, it felt weirdly over-familiar to me, as if it was setting up the Lilith stories from the other side, with humans as the space-faring race. I didn’t find the characters as interesting as in the Lilith books, or the plot quite as involving. The net result was that I haven’t bothered to look at the sequel. I suspect this is partly due to the fact that Butler never finished this series. If I can’t really know where she was going with this, I’m not sure I need to travel along any farther.
Berlin: Life and Death in the City at the Center of the World, by Sinclair McKay – As a long-time student of the era between about 1850-1950, I have read a good deal about Germany during the first and second World Wars, albeit most of it from a political/military standpoint. McKay focuses on one city, Berlin, and the people who lived there between the wars, during WWII, and just after it ended, and the city was divided. It’s highly informative, as I would have expected, but oddly moving because it’s so human.
There’s no attempt to excuse the German people for their part in the war, and the Holocaust, but there is a deeper understanding about the lives of ordinary people caught up in a situation, for whatever reason, they never saw coming. And honestly, who hasn’t succumbed to the desire to hide their head in the sand sometimes and pretend the bad things aren’t happening?
Whatever else you can say about the citizens of Berlin, you will find how dearly they paid for Hitler’s insane aggression. Wonderful book for anyone who wants a deeper dive into the history of the city.
Easy Chicago Cookbook, Book Sumo Press – Excuse me a moment, I’m going to go scream.
Okay I’m back. But that should give you some idea of my response to this cookbook that has absolutely nothing at all to do with cooking in Chicago. Nothing. You simply cannot append the name of a Chicago suburb to some mundane recipe and have it be an accurate reflection of how people eat here.
They don’t get anything right, not even the cut of meat used for our Italian beef. The damn sandwiches don’t even look right! I don’t know who did the homework on this (if anyone actually did) but they need to be fired. This book is absolute crap. I got it free. I’m not sure it was even worth the download time.
The Little Prince, by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry – I had to read this book in HS and hated it. It struck me as the worst sort of child-worshipping BS. You know what I’m talking about, right? Oh children are so pure, why can’t we all be like them? But I thought I might try again. Maybe I was wrong all those years ago.
I wasn’t. The prince himself is still tiresome. So is the aviator. So are all the creatures they encounter. I’m sorry Miss Karsh (Senior year English teacher) but you were wrong. This isn’t charming, it’s pretentious as fuck.
So I hope to read more in October. I just started Siren and I’m really liking it so far. But I’m also doing more writing so the reading is taking a back seat right now. I’ll be back in November to yammer some more about books.
Reading has been dodgy since I got sick, I think everyone has figured that out from my previous review posts (or lack thereof.) I’m relying more on audiobooks right now because it seems like every time I sit down to read hard copy/ebooks, I fall asleep in a matter of minutes. Seriously, it’s like being drugged. As usual, my reading is a bit of a mixed bag, with one re-read.
The 1619 Project, by by Nikole Hannah-Jones (Author), The New York Times Magazine (Author), Caitlin Roper (Editor), Ilena Silverman (Editor), Jake Silverstein (Editor) – I didn’t expect this to be an easy read, which is one reason why I chose the audio format, but I also recommend the audiobook because this is a book about voices, voices of the past, the present, and voices that speak to the future of black people in America. There is nothing weak or hesitant about those voices either. From the unflinching accounts of the arrival of slave ships on our shore, to the unflinching accounts of the murder of George Floyd and Brianna Taylor (among others) the voices here speak about an experience most white Americans can’t even guess at.
I thought I was pretty well educated in real history, as opposed to the whitewashed version in which slave owners like Thomas Jefferson (who I used to like; that’s how poorly educated I’ve been) had the audacity to stand up and say “All men are created equal,” while owning black human beings, and even fathering children on Sally Hemmings. (I don’t want to hear a single word about how maybe they loved each other. It was rape. She couldn’t say no. Even if she was screaming “YES! YES! YES!” she was his slave and she couldn’t say no to him, so it was rape.)
I wasn’t even close to being educated enough to know half of what I read in this book. Maybe I allowed myself to slide past the worst of it as I read American history, I don’t know. What I do know is that the accounts are horrifying, and what lies beneath the actions of white Americans even more so, particularly as the playbook, though sanitized, is still in use today. Frex, infrastructure is still being used to divide black from white in US cities, even as our politicians assure us that “Oh no, it was just the best place to put this particular highway.” And of course, the ever-popular Second Amendment was created out of fear that the slaves might actually want freedom enough to rise up against their masters, and by god those masters were going to be armed to the teeth. I leave you to make the connection between the facts of history and today’s gun-fanatic rhetoric. Well-regulated militia, my arse.
But then… the chapter that lifted my heart: Music. It’s a long, beautiful chapter about how African music has evolved here in the US, and informed virtually every genre of music, making it one of the richest heritages on earth. I will hug that chapter close forever.
Read, or if you’re of a mind to hear black voices, listen. Learn the things they never taught us. Learn the things they never want us, our children, our grandchildren to know. Let it be a starting point, not the end of your study.
The Girl from the Metropol Hotel: Growing Up in Communist Russia, by Lyudmila Petrushevskaya – Someone in one of my reading groups on Facebook recommended this for people who loved A Gentleman in Moscow. Well apart from being set in 20th century Moscow, it really doesn’t have all that much to do with the Towles novel. And yet I found it fascinating. It’s a short autobiography of a girl from a well-connected Bolshevik family who nevertheless grew up nearly feral and in great poverty, to become one of Russia’s most eminent writers. AFAIK, she’s still alive and still writing, and her voice is so strong and assured, her personality so vigorous that reading her is a joy.
Still Life, by Louise Penny — Sometimes a girl needs a bit of comfort reading. First in the Gamache series, a group of novels I never tire of. This one is an introduction not only to Inspector Gamache of the Surete Quebec, but to the residents of Three Pines, which is more than a little mythic in character. I love mysteries with ensemble casts, and these are really top-of-the-line. I’m sure a search of this site will turn up a more complete review if you’re interested.
Daisy Jones and The Six, by Taylor Jenkins Reid – After reading The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo last month, I went looking for more by Reid. This one is an earlier outing, and appealed to me because, at least at the start, it reminded me strongly of my own novel White Rabbit. But by the time I was well into it, it stopped being as interesting as it seemed originally, and became essentially the kind of story you read in all those tell-all books about rock bands; you know the ones that document the drug, alcohol, and sexual excesses of the band members. Honestly, I didn’t find the characters – Daisy in particular – worth worrying about. So unless you’re really into 70s rock-and-roll, Rolling Stone pastiches, you might want to give this one a miss. I’m glad I got mine from the library.
How to Be Less Stupid About Race: On Racism, White Supremacy, and the Racial Divide, by Crystal Marie Fleming – I have to fess up here, I didn’t quite finish this book. It was rough going because Fleming spares no one including herself (She explains how her background and education exempted her from a lot of harsh truths about the lives of most Black Americans.) and I only listened for short sittings. Net result, the library took it back before I managed to get all the way through, and if I want to finish it I have to put it back on hold.
I did learn a lot, probably not nearly enough, and am destined to remain stupid about race until I can reborrow the book. It’s not easy. You have to want to hear these things just like you have to want to hear what the 1619 project has to say. But as someone who never imagined what this country has done to people of other races (Fleming doesn’t limit herself to dealing with Black Americans.) it’s an important read.
Under the Black Flag, by David Cordingly – Okay so I’m on an Our Flag Means Death kick, and I wanted to read something about real pirates. But now I’m kinda feeling like maybe this wasn’t entirely what I wanted. At the same time the wealth of information is impressive. And dry, like, my-brain-skitters-sideways-a-lot-of-the-time dry. At one point I ended up surfing Facebook while listening to an exhaustive catalog of the kinds of ships pirates used, and the differences in them from number and configuration of masts to how many guns were on board and how many men were required to man each ship based on the number of guns aboard. Yeah there better not be a test on that one.
“Adios, Bart!”
The most interesting stuff is, predictably enough, about the various pirate captains. I expected Blackbeard to loom larger, but beyond the spectacular account of his Rasputin-like demise, he’s just another player. (Did anyone else know that his skull remains in storage at the Peabody Essex Museum?) The standout personalities have been pirates like Bartholomew Roberts (Black Bart. You thought he was just a product of Ralphie’s imagination, didn’t you? Me too.) Anne Bonney and Mary Read, the most notorious of the women who turned to piracy, and Calico Jack Rackham of all people!
Cordingly also discusses pirates in the media, and how far from reality the portrayals are. Since he was writing pre-OFMD, my only comment there was “Buddy, you don’t know the half of it.” One interesting thing I did learn was that apparently Izzy Hands appears in Stevenson’s Treasure Island. (BTW, did anyone else realize he was also known as “Basilica Hands?” What was that about?)
Bottom line is that you really have to be a pirate fanatic to get the most out of this book. It’s not bad, it’s just, well, dry like I said. And the narrator is not what you’d call sparkling. I also question some of his pronunciation like rendering machete as “mah-SHET” at one point in the book. In another spot he actually got it right, at least in the plural. Did no one care enough to correct him? Oh well.
The Sandman: The Deluxe Edition, Book One, by Neil Gaiman — I first encountered the Sandman comics back in the very early nineties when a friend insisted I read them. I’ve always been grateful to her for that not only because it introduced me to Neil Gaiman’s writing, which I love, but because the images and ideas I encountered have stuck with me for decades and informed a lot of my thinking about my own work. I’ve been watching the series, so I decided to revisit the graphic novels and see why there’s been so much fussing about the changes and the casting and so on from some quarters.
First off the series is very different from the comics. It’s also very not different. I’m a firm believer in allowing every form of media to be true to itself because if it’s not, then why bother with translating stories into different forms of media? If Gaiman had written Sandman as a novel originally, and then had it translated into comic book form, you can bet there’d have been the same sort of pointless whining about how it’s wrong all wrong terrible horrible and should never have happened. In my opinion, the series remains true to the basic ideas within the comics even if it changes the details. I mean, come on, how many decades has Neil had to refine his ideas? You think Morpheus hasn’t grown and changed in his mind? He’s a genius for fuck’s sake, of course he’s always growing.
But I’m here to review the first volume of the graphic novels, and all of the above was in aid of explaining why I found this first volume jarring and unsatisfying to the story-teller in me. It’s not that I don’t love the comics, I do. But the way the stories are presented is a lot less subtle than in the series. They’re messy and sometimes needlessly complicated. Character motivation… well honestly a lot of doesn’t make any sense at all. The one I keep coming back to is 24/7, the story of John Dee. In the comic, his actions are chaotic. He’s just a crazy man doing crazy, horrible things, and a great many of those things seem to be included simply for shock value. In the series, there is a logic to all he does. It’s warped, but it makes sense, and as such it’s far more satisfying as a story.
One thing I did find jarring after all these years is the whiteness and maleness of the comics. People of color are background characters for the most part, though we do see a brief incarnation of Dream as an African at one point. It’s a comic that reflects what was considered acceptable and mainstream back in the day.
So I’m telling you that yes, if you love Sandman the series, reading the comics is a great idea. But be prepared for something that’s very different from what you’ve seen. And something that is very much the same as what you’ve seen.
Lilith’s Brood: The Xenogenesis Trilogy, by Octavia Butler: Dawn, Adulthood Rites, and Imago — Wow. No, seriously, just wow. I lay in bed last night, after finishing Imago, the final book of the trilogy, and thought that maybe “Wow” would be the absolute best review I could write because there is so freaking much about these books that demands discussion, that it would be best served as an advanced lit course. But yeah, if I’m going to review, I need to review, so forgive me if I utterly miss some hugely important points about the books, but my brain can only translate so much into words at a time.
We start with Dawn, the book in which Lilith Iyapo is introduced as a woman in some kind of bizarre captivity. She’s isolated except for a voice that asks her questions. She is put to sleep many times and each time the awakening is unpleasant. Eventually we learn that she is a human woman who was rescued from a post-apocalyptic Earth by aliens known as the Oankali. Because we’re viewing all this through Lilith’s eyes, we know very little about why she’s been rescued, what they want from her, and who they are exactly. And this, right here, is one of the themes that run through the trilogy, both in content and structure. We only really know what we’re told. Sure we can infer from context, but that’s not always reliable. I read 700+ pages of this trilogy before I finally figured out what the term Akjai actually meant, and that realization underscored, for me anyway, the reactions of the humans to the actions of the Oankali. I found myself being resentful that this term, and many other words and ideas, weren’t made clear from the get-go.
The Oankali are really good at not telling people the truth. They don’t lie, they just omit. And because of this, and the fact that their understanding of human nature is flawed and they are incapable of recognizing this, there is a lot of conflict, both internal and external. So much of the trilogy is about agency, free will, and yes even enslavement, though that’s never a concrete issue as it might have been in the hands of a lesser writer. Butler was a brilliant, subtle writer who made every component of her work serve a greater purpose.
Do I recommend it? Not just yes but HELL YES. It’s not easy. If you want something easy look elsewhere. But if you want a multi-layered story about what it means to be human (and yeah, I know that’s starting to sound trite, but trust me it works here) and how humans have to look to the future as much as we have to learn from the past, then this is well worth the time and effort.
#OFMD, Stede/Blackbeard, end of season, spoilers everywhere you look
He looked down into that sweet, beardless face; that beautiful face, softer now that the black and grey waves of beard were gone. It was the face of a child, Stede thought, though he didn’t quite know why. Maybe it was the eyes, so vulnerable. It was almost as if Ed was asking forgiveness for something. But Stede had nothing to forgive. He loved Ed with every fiber of his being.
And then the expression was gone, and in its place was the new, thoughtful Ed. Sad Ed. Wistful Ed, who was suddenly living a life he’d never have bargained for if it hadn’t been for Stede.
Stede left the room. He couldn’t bear it.
But later, when Ed sought him out on the rocks, and made him understand that what he’d done, he’d done out of love, Stede’s heart broke open. And the kiss sealed it. It wasn’t just desire, but something so much bigger, vaster than the ocean, and deeper. They would sail on it together, hold each other up, or drown together, it didn’t much matter to Stede, so long as Ed was with him.
He could drown in those eyes.
There’s always an escape, Ed told him, and he was right. But it wasn’t the escape Stede had been told to expect. He’d stumbled around in the dark for hours after Chauncy’s death, finally finding himself at a cove where a dinghy waited. So he waited. And nothing happened except that the dinghy’s owner came at dawn.
He didn’t know anyone named Ed, he said, and he needed to get the boat out to fish. If Stede would help him, he’d row him out far enough that he might find a ship going… where?
Stede had no idea, none. Nothing they’d said to each other had been practical. Love had been their map and compass.
“Barbados,” he blurted for lack of a better answer.
And for that whole voyage home on the ship they’d encountered, he found himself wondering if the look of apology in Ed’s eyes had been for this, for abandoning him.
For betraying him? Had Ed sent Chauncy to kill Stede?
Unworthy thoughts, wrong thoughts, contemptable thoughts. Ed would never do something like that. No, this was all a mistake. It was fixable.
But once home he made no move to fix it. He became a ghost in his own home, barely there at all for the children, and a nuisance to Mary who could barely stand to look at him.
But her eyes…
When he told her, “His name is Ed,” her eyes were so kind, so happy for him. So accepting, that he knew he had to find Ed, the love of his life, and make all this right no matter how long it took. He would get down on his knees and beg if he had to.
He would find Ed, find love, or find his end. He steered by the memory of Ed’s beautiful face. He would steer by the memory of Ed’s eyes.
I never thought Dargie would write fanfic again. I’m gobsmacked. They haven’t written any in years, decades even. But #ofmd has really gotten to them, and they tossed this one off in about half an hour (and yeah I do think it shows a bit) while high on the final episode of the first season.
Thanks to me feeling like hammered shit for a couple of months, my reading list got skipped, but what there was to document wasn’t much anyway. I’m breaking the list down into fiction and non-fiction because I found that there were themes within those categories which are worth noting. Here we go…
Music as a Mirror of History – Goldberg – This was supposed to be a relisten, but damned if I remembered much about it. Still, it was worth listening to because Goldberg is so good at contextualizing music and how it reflects the events of the time in which it was written. His series of musical courses are so very good.
The Song of the Dodo – David Quammen – Starting with this book, I went on a reading binge that focused on extinction, evolution, and diversity. Oh boy did I read about diversity. Sometimes it felt as if that was the single most important word in this and the next two. Diversity is more critical than I’d ever imagined to the health of a species. And while so many factors contribute to growing healthy populations of animals – and we are, in fact, still arguing about and testing those factors in search of remedies to extinction – without diversity animal populations don’t really have a chance to hold their own. Much of the information is less than hopeful, but it’s important. I’d venture to say that it’s applicable to human populations as well.
Eating to Extinction – Dan Saladino – Saladino covers a lot of the same questions Quammen does, but from the viewpoint of our eating habits, and how we choose to grow our food. We breed our food for certain qualities such as pest and disease resistance, yield, flavor, etc, giving favor to the species that seem to have everything we need. But nature is tricksy, and we may manage to breed an orange with spectacularly good flavor, but in the process we may also have created an orange that has requirements that can be a burden on the ecosystem. But people love it, so we plant more and more, squeezing out other crops in favor of flavor, and thus we lose diversity. Those genes are gone, and with them any benefit we might find we require in the future. Again, not a really upbeat book, but one worth reading if you care about stuff like this.
The Secret Life of Groceries – Benjamin Lorr – You are what you eat, right? Also you are where you choose to shop for your food, a fact that Lorr explores in his examination of grocery stores in the west. He gives us histories of places like Trader Joe’s, and fills us in how supermarkets are run, and what goes into getting the food from farm to grocery cart. There’s a huge human toll in that process when you take into account the raising of the food, harvesting, shipping, and marketing. It’s fantastically competitive and everyone is always looking for the next big thing in aid of making a buck. And here, diversity means choice, it means that fads can have far-reaching effects. Fascinating book.
The Wild Places – Robert McFarlane – McFarlane, who is a wonderful writer btw, takes the reader on trips around the British Isles to places where wildness still exists. Not just sparsely populated rural land, but honest-to-god wildness, something of which there is precious little in the world. He has an eye and a voice that work in tandem to refresh our sense of wonder about our natural world, and in his work he tackles many different aspects of it. If temporary separation from the man-made world appeals to you, this is a book you’ll probably enjoy.
Aspects – John M. Ford – John Ford’s final book, and unfinished at the time of his death. While I enjoyed it (and it’s the only Ford I’ve ever read, so maybe this wasn’t the best choice for an introduction to his work) it was difficult to connect with the characters in any meaningful way, at least by my standards. I don’t really feel like I can do justice to it here, so let’s just say if you’re already a Ford fan, you’ll probably love it. If you’re as clueless about his work as I was, start somewhere else.
Earthlings -Sayaka Murata – Oh god, this book… I started telling The Housemate about it, and she almost immediately asked why I kept on reading. I told her that I felt I needed to figure out what the hell was going on. When I got to the cannibalism part, she just shook her head and said something to the effect that I was nuts for sticking it out. And yeah I think I may have been. It’s a deeply unsettling book, but not in the wow-that-gave-me-a-lot-to-think-about way, as “A Little Life” was. More in the way a narrative about people being hacked to pieces both physically and emotionally would be. I don’t mean to dismiss it entirely because there are important issues hidden within its pages, but I’m not sure the digging was worth it.
The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo – Taylor Jenkins Reid – Total surprise to me. I’ve been aware of it for months, but nothing I’d heard about it had seemed particularly appealing. Boy was I wrong. Sure there were moments when I thought, “why am I bothering?” But in the end I’m so happy I stuck it out. Wonderful book.
The Locked Room – Elly Griffiths – The newest Ruth Galloway mystery. I didn’t think much of the mystery per se, but it did start to resolve some of the problems I’d been having with Ruth’s private life which made it much more satisfying than the last couple. I know that sounds like damning with faint praise, but I think it’s worth reading, particularly if you’re already a fan of the series. Also there’s some scary stuff with a character I love, and that overshadowed everything else for me to the point where I started doing the whole If-she-kills-(character)- I’m-finished-with-her thing. Yeah, yeah, I know…
The Thursday Murder Club – Richard Osman – I read the two books in the series in reverse order, so I already knew stuff about how the series would progress. But I loved it. A group of cranky, brilliant seniors who solve murders? Come on, how could anyone not love that?
Lincoln in the Bardo – George Saunders – If you’ve been reading my reviews/lists for any amount of time you’ve probably seen me in raptures about this book. This reread I opted for the audio because it’s so perfect. Normally I don’t like full cast audiobooks, but this one is sheer poetry with a brilliant cast of voices so perfect, so evocative that it’s often like listening to music. I became lost in the sound of it. It’s miraculous, IMO.
That’s it for these last two months. I’m currently reading The 1619 Project which I have to tell you is not for the faint of heart. I hope my commentary next month will do it justice. See you then.
Another slowish month for reading. I’m in the middle of two very good books right now, but I knew I wouldn’t finish them even close to the beginning of June, so they’ll be coming atcha in the next recap post. One thing I noted as I wrote my recaps this month is that the content is heavy on things like wistfulness, affection, kindness, and what it means to be human. I don’t know why that is, though perhaps it’s about my own life being in such flux with the cancer diagnosis and all the physical and mental ickiness that goes with it. In any event, while they weren’t all winners this month they were all worth reading for one reason or another. Enjoy!
And Still I Rise: Black America Since MLK – Henry Louis Gates Jr. – I began reading this back in February when I was in the rehab facility trying to learn to walk again. It’s not that it’s dull, far from it. But it’s dense with information about how black America changed in the last 60 or so years. There’s no editorializing here; Gates even writes about himself in the third person. Rather it’s a detailed chronology of black Americans in politics, entertainment, business, sports, and every other public arena from which they’d been systematically excluded in the previous centuries. Gates is a clear-eyed observer, and an excellent writer. If you want to know more about the world of black Americans, you can’t do better, in my opinion.
The Paris Bookseller – Kerri Maher – This was a gift from friend and neighbor, Linda. She knew I’d want something to read when I got home so she gifted me with two lovely books, one of which I reviewed last month (The second Thursday Murder Club book, title escapes me. Currently waiting for the first of the series to drop at the library.) This one was, I thought, non-fiction about Sylvia Beach and her Paris bookstore, Shakespeare and Company, and how she and the store helped to reshape fiction between the wars. But it’s a novel, and a decent one as well, touching on Beach’s relationships with Hemingway, Gertrude Stein, and most importantly, James Joyce. Beach ventured everything on getting Ulysses published and into the hands of readers in countries where it had been banned as obscene. Her difficulties with Joyce (he was a difficult man) and her long-term relationship with writer and bookstore owner Adrienne Monnier, are both central to the plot, so if you’re into literature, particularly early 20th century, and queer romance, this is the book for you.
Aristotle and Dante Dive into the Waters of the World – Benjamin Alire Saenz – I read the first Dante and Aristotle book last year, I think it was, and I adored it. I love this one even more. Why? Because Ari is growing up, he’s becoming less isolated and discovering that he actually has friends who love him. He’s finding that his relationship with his family is deeper and more loving than he suspected. He’s learning what love really means to an adult, and it’s quite wonderful. If you read and enjoyed the first book, you need to read the sequel. Honest.
Hôtel Magnifique – Emily J. Taylor – This sounded better than it read. It’s decent brain candy, but nothing really new or special. Read it for fun, don’t look for anything deep.
Less – Andrew Sean Greer – I picked this up because it was the choice for an online book club I joined, and devoured it in two days. It’s hilarious and sad, smart, kind, and thoughtful. It’s the story of a man who understands nothing much about himself, but in the process of fleeing from his broken heart, learns a great deal about how loved he is and always has been. He starts to understand exactly who he is as he turns 50, and it’s a wonderful thing to share with him.
Station Eleven – Emily St. John Mandel – How did I ever forget that I read this a couple of years ago? Even as I was reading this time around, I found both familiar and unfamiliar passages, and finally I looked up my review, which was short but positive (July 2019) What I would say now is simply that it’s a book that never quite goes where you expect it to. Yes, there’s the usual post-apocalyptic threats of violence, but that pretty much comes with the territory, doesn’t it? Much of it revolves around relationships, who the characters know, whose lives are entangled with their own and how. Don’t look for action and terror because what you’ll find instead is sadness and the determination to survive intact as a human being.
I don’t know how many of you know that I have cancer and am on oxygen. I’m hoping to get a portable oxygen concentrator which will make my quality of life a whole lot better. If you feel moved to contribute, you can do so here. If you’re not able, no harm no foul. Thanks.
So in March I read 29 books. I know that sounds like a lot but bear in mind two things: First I had almost nothing to do at the nursing facility except read. Second, 19 of the books were cookbooks. While I feel they’re legit additions to a reading list (Most are more than just recipes.) I’m not going to be doing detailed reviews on them. I’ll just point out some of the highlights where I found them.
Let’s start with the fiction:
My Soul to Keep, Tananrive Due – Imagine a group of immortals who have been kept alive by an infusion of blood stolen from Jesus on the cross. Imagine their society demands absolute secrecy on pain of death to anyone outside the group who learns of their existence, but terrible revenge on the member who spilled the beans. Now imagine one of the society who has long been something of a loose cannon, has fallen in love with a mortal woman, married her, and had a child with her. And he wants his wife and his child to live forever at his side. First of a series.
The Last Graduate, Naomi Novik – I always like Novik’s work, but I was thinking this might turn out to be the exception… and then she sucked me right into her story. School of magic where the students stand a damn good chance of dying before (or at) graduation because the school is filled with demons who are hungry for their magic (and their flesh.) Cranky protagonist with a huge chip on her shoulder… yeah that works. Some nice kids, some not so nice. Alliances being made to try to get safely out of the school. Fun book, and again, first of a series.
Dream London, Tony Ballantyne – Certifiably weird, I’m not even kidding. The magical elements in this seem almost random, but in a way that seems quite organized. I’m hard pressed to explain further, but if you like magic on the chaotic side, this might just appeal to you. The protagonist, Captain Jim Wedderburn, is a total asshole, which may or may not be why he’s been chosen to figure out what’s going on in London, why is the city rearranging itself? Where are all these weird buildings coming from? And why are the people changing along with the city? And if you don’t half fall in love with Mr. Monagan… what the heck is wrong with you?
The Man Who Died Twice – Richard Osman – Second book of a mystery series that feels like it’s going to become a huge favorite right up there with Louise Penny’s Gamache series. It’s got an ensemble cast, which is my favorite sort of mystery, and the sleuths are crabby old people who are too smart for everyone else’s good. Oh yeah, good times.
Dear Cary: My Life with Cary Grant, Dyan Cannon – A good rule of thumb is No Pedestals. No matter how handsome, elegant, urbane, well-spoken, etc. someone is, they could be complete assholes in private. Oh yes, Cary, I’m looking at you. While it’s important to remember that Cannon is an ex-wife, what she says about him feels uncomfortably true. When she was in the hospital giving birth to their daughter, he gave her beloved dog away because he didn’t like the idea of a dog around his child. (That would have been it for me right there.) When Dyan’s father got in an argument with Cary about something she wanted to do, Cary responded “She’s under my jurisdiction now!” Excuse me? Jurisdiction? He comes across as a control freak with mommy issues, which is not a good look for him. On the upside she pretty much admits he was a good father to Jennifer which is something. But boy, Cary, you really disappointed me. I thought you were cooler than that.
The Tribe of the Tiger – Elizabeth Marshall Thomas – I’d always meant to read this, and the nursing home stay gave me the time and the prod I needed. It’s lovely. Thomas writes at length and with clear love on all the different feline families. If you’re a cat-lover, this is a must read.
Pale Rider, Laura Spinny – So what better to read during a Covid surge but a history of the Spanish Flu? She starts with a shortish history of pandemics, moves to a history of the Spanish Flu and why it was so named (of COURSE everyone wanted to blame someone else, and the Spanish name just stuck.) And she talks a bit about how it really got lost in the shuffle of history and never took its rightful place in that history. It is estimated that this pandemic killed more people than WWI and WWII combined. Yeah, that’s a lot of people, and most died in the second, most virulent wave. She also makes it clear that human nature doesn’t change. There were deniers, anti-vaxxers, conspiracy theorists and every other crazy or ugly form of human behavior we’re currently experiencing with Covid. I suppose that should be comforting, but honestly, not so much. It’s like we never really learn anything.
Holy Blood, Holy Grail, Henry Lincoln, Michael Baigent, and Richard Leigh – DNF – I actually read this many years ago when it came out. Don’t recall that I bought into it then, but this time around I don’t think I read even 100 pages before I (mentally) shouted “Bugger this for a lark!” and removed it from my Kindle. Ugh, this kind of conspiracy gets right up my nose these days. Not as bad as The Government is Putting Microchips into Our Food bad, but bad enough.
The Brendan Voyage, Tim Severin – Could Saint Brendan have sailed from Ireland to the new world before the Vikings even made the trip? Tim Severin and some friends made the journey in a boat built to the specifications in Brendan’s account, and decided, yes, in fact it was very likely that they not only could, but did. What I loved about this book was the insight into who Brendan was, and the account of the worldwide interest in the voyage, and all the help that people were willing to provide along the way. One thing humanity never seems to lose is their sense of a ripping good adventure!
Bad Girls from History, Dee Gordon – I really wanted to like this more than I did. I wish Gordon had chosen fewer personalities and given us more information about them. Hell there’s a lot of things I wish she’d done, or that I would have done differently. It’s arranged in chapters about certain kinds of badness, like courtesans and prostitutes, serial killers, etc. Within those chapters, the names are alphabetical not chronological, and each division really tends to put us farther away from understanding these women in the context of their times, social situation, the expectations of women and so forth. It’s clumsily done even if some of the accounts are interesting.
And now the cookbooks:
Cancer Guide and Cookbook – Useful book to help you keep yourself together and eating healthily.
Scandikitchen: the Essence of Hygge – Almost more an exploration of the meaning of hygge and how to finesse it into your own life. Some good recipes though. Nice and comforting.
Moon Milk – Moon milk… lovely notion. Hot milk before bed, but mixed with things that are healthy, or comforting, or whatever floats your boat.
The Moon Juice Cookbook – Very similar to Moon Milk
The Big Book of Kombucha Brewing – Yeah I’ve read this before. I want to get back to making my own so it was a refresher course.
Grandma’s Best Appetizers – Nothing too special. Probably these are what Granny served people in the 70s.
Soup Cookbook – Always good to have at least one of these.
Simple Salad Cookbook – And one of these.
Grilled Cheese Kitchen – Some really great ideas here. I just wish the idea of a grilled cheese didn’t make my stomach do flip-flops right now.
Martha Stewart ‘s Vegetables – It’s Martha, what can I tell you. Pretty, often complex, but fun to read.
Eating From the Ground Up – More vegetables
Vegetables Unleashed — This is by Jose Andres, who I consider a contemporary saint. It’s almost more important as philosophy than as cookbook.
Heirloom Beans: Recipes from Rancho Gordo – If you love beans and aren’t familiar with Rancho Gordo, go look at their site. Look at these recipes. Think about the idea of beans so much fresher than what you get at the supermarket that you can truly taste the differences between them. Oh yeah.
Asian Pickles at Home, Japanese pickles guide, Fermented Vegetables – These three cover a lot of ground in terms of pickling and fermenting, something that fascinates me. I can recommend them all to one degree or another.
Grandma’s Best Quick Breads – Nice little book with some good recipes.
Milk Street: Cookish – Low key recipes from a trusted source.
Serve Yourself: Nightly Adventures in Cooking – Easy stuff.
That’s it for March. Don’t begin to expect this many books in April. LOL
Tales from Crazy House 