Could Science Fiction be not as bad as I thought?
For those who listen to The Readers, you will know that Simon accepted a challenge when he recorded a special episode with Michael and Ann from Books on the Nightstand. They decided that the four of us would read each others’ favorite books. Ann’s choice was The Sparrow by Mary Doria Russell. I groaned when I heard that it was science fiction. Despite my absolute love of Atwood’s “speculative fiction” MaddAddam trilogy, I can’t say that the genre interests me much. I (most certainly wrongly) equate it with all kinds of too colorful covers, made up facts, unpronounceable names, and pimply, greasy-haired teens with “Why be Normal” buttons pinned to the lapel of the vintage overcoat they picked up at Ragstock for $5.

Much to my surprise I ended up liking The Sparrow quite a lot. It hooked me quickly. I founded it compelling enough that it pushed aside about four other books I was reading at the time. I was going to write a quick paragraph about it in this post, but then I realized I actually want to write a real review of it. There were so many things about the book and my experience reading it that I feel the need to talk about it. No doubt I will have a chance to do that on The Readers but I don’t think we are going to have that discussion until 2015. It’s one of those books you want to talk about. Even absent knowing anyone in real life who has read it, or who would read it, I started talking about it with friends. That conversation didn’t go very far.

So I figure it this way, any book that I find so compelling to both read and talk about can’t be too bad right? I know there are large swaths of sci-fi that I would not find compelling at all, but it made me think there might be more opportunities for me to enjoy the genre than I previously thought.

Why don’t I have a favorite book?
Choosing my book for the above mentioned favorite book challenge on The Readers and Books on the Nightstand was not easy for me. I just don’t have a favorite book. I know that many real readers (like some of you all) are capable of coming up with one book about which you don’t mind saying “this is my favorite book”. Even though you have ten other books that are closely jockeying for the top spot, you still feel okay, perhaps even good, choosing just one. I just can’t. I have had favorite books at different times in my life, but to look at all of them and say “this is the one” seems like a ridiculous and ultimately unfulfilling activity. Heck, even if I segment it into periods of my life I can’t narrow it down to a single book.

Grade School: Harriet the Spy (Fitzhugh) and The Ark (Benary-Isbert)
Junior High: I read a lot, but no real recollection of a favorite.
High School: Narcissus and Goldmund (Hesse) and On the Beach (Nevil Shute)
College: The Edible Woman (Atwood), Where Angels Fear to Tread (Forster), and The Carnivorous Lamb (Gomez-Arcos)

And then, after that it degenerates into a mass of really good books that I really liked and sometimes loved, but nothing that comes close to being able to beat out all the others that I also really love. In the end, for the challenge on the podcast I made my choice not just by choosing a well loved book by one of my favorite authors, I also kept in mind what I thought others might enjoy and what I thought deserved a broader audience. A book that I knew that bookish people would love if they knew it existed. That’s how I came up with my choice of Swann by Carol Shields. But even with that, I haven’t read it in years. Will it still be a favorite?

Anyone else annoyed by Goodreads’ iPad update?
I’ve never been much of a fan of Goodreads’ iPad app. Compared to the webpage interface, I always found it a bit clumsy and lacking in easy functionality. I tended only to use it for viewing information. For any sort of input I would go to the web version. Well they updated the app and I must say I find it even worse than it was before. Has anyone else been similarly annoyed? I thought since the deathstar purchased Goodreads and began scooping up NSA-level data on our habits the product would get better. Then again, I also expected all sorts of aggressive advertising, and pay-walls for certain features. Of course that might be still to come. Still, don’t you hate it when something new turns out to be something worse?

The good old days before they made an okay thing worse.

How is it possible I didn’t enjoy a book sale?
My new job is walking distance to the Arlington County Central Library which has a big, blowout book sale each year. When I showed up with my empty book bags two weeks ago, it was a week too early. My disappointment was palatable. So when I got there on the right day this past Friday I was loaded for a good time. The fact that I was able to go during a week day rather than on the crazy, busy weekend also had me quite excited. But when I got there I was almost immediately disappointed. As I looked at the first shelf I thought “you didn’t like this book sale last year”. Then I tried to figure out why.   One of the big reasons is that it takes place in a parking garage and I think the light levels are a little too low for good book hunting. Unlike many other big book sales this one has most of its offerings on shelves rather than tables. This makes it much hard to comb through the stock. They also have the fiction broken down in a way that isn’t very helpful. Mass market classics, trade paper, hardcovers that seem to also have mystery and sci-fi mixed in, a section called literature, and then one simply called “old books”. And aside from the rather dusty, not very interesting old books, most of the stock seemed to consist of lots of recent titles. I tried my best to focus but realized this sale, as big as it is, just isn’t for me. Still I did manage to buy three. But none really made me jump up and down.

Are we really here for the books?
I know we all found each other over our love of books and reading (two different things in my estimation), and I know I couldn’t turn this blog into just a big dump about the ups and downs of my life and have you all still show up from time to time. But it is amazing to me (in a good way) how posts about more than just books always do better in both page views and comments than the ones solely focused on books. I know other bloggers have found this as well. Is this the online equivalent of the book club that is really a wine drinking in the presence of books club? Even if that is so, I don’t think it matters. If book are the very pleasant excuse for humans to interact with each other, why not?

Continuing the chronicle of my re-employment, it seems appropriate that I examine the future of my blogging life. Having a job that has me writing eight hours a day, do I really have the mental energy to come home and write a blog?

I know some of you love a naval gazing blog post, and others loathe them. I’m kind of in the middle, I kind of like them but I also feel like some bloggers take it all way too seriously. If you aren’t having fun, pack it in. No one is paying you (and, I hate to break it to you, probably never will).

Rather than blather, I can sum it up it up pretty quickly: I am not going to stop blogging. I like the social network blogging provides too much to let it go. Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads and The Readers podcast just aren’t enough.

So you are stuck with me. And, since I have a pile of books that I really need to say something about, I am going to say something about them.

The Bookstore by Deborah Meyler
British woman moves to New York to get a Ph.D at Columbia. Gets job in used bookstore. Gets pregnant. A somewhat mediocre but also somewhat enjoyable read. I found myself having to suspend my disbelief a bit too much for such a non-fantastical, everyday sort of story.

contrary to this cover, I didn’t listen to this book

Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn
I was forced to read this by Simon Savidge and his Booktopia-induced peer pressure. I didn’t hate it but would have put it down at 20 pages had it not been for the aforementioned peer pressure. I’m not sure I can describe what I didn’t like about the writing, it felt a little too something. Clever isn’t the right word. Forced. I think forced is the word. Flynn had a great idea and honestly comes up with twists and turns that are fascinating and compelling, and perfectly anxiety inducing. But it felt kind of forced. No interest in seeing the film at all.

The Bookseller by Mark Pryor
I enjoyed this book-based mystery way more than I thought I would. I’m not much of a mystery person. I hate murder mysteries. They are too often too pat and more disturbingly, I don’t like the casual way they treat murder. This one was low on violence and high on book-related intrigue in Paris. The first of the Hugo Marston mysteries. I wonder if I would like any of the others?

An Untamed State by Roxanne Gay
I chose this one so I could participate in Aarti’s A More Diverse Universe event she hosted on her blog Book Lust. My reading tends to be pretty white and Anglo-American so I welcomed the chance to branch out a bit more. Plus I had read two Adichie novels this year and loved them so I was interested in reading more great fiction by authors of color. Unfortunately my new job kind made it somewhat difficult for me to get my stuff together in time to participate. I did, however, really like An Untamed State. The story of a Haitian woman, married to an American and living in the US who gets kidnapped while visiting her wealthy parents in Haiti. She suffers unspeakable acts for 13 days while her father tries to out macho the kidnappers. Then the novel follows her trying to come to grips with her life once she is free and back in the US. Pretty compelling reading and Gay’s writing has me wanting to keep my eye out for future novels.

I had two other books I was reading for this challenge. One was a graphic novel written by a Chinese woman which I found tedious and didn’t finish. And one is a slightly boring story of an Indian chef during the time of partition. That one I still intend to finish. I guess when all was said and done Aarti’s event was good for me. Got me to expand my horizons a bit and remind to continue to make a bit of an effort to be more diverse going forward.

The Shadows of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon
Another bookish mystery, but much more complex than the Mark Pryor mystery. This one has a bit of everything. Lots of old books, secret libraries, a fire-damaged villain, a masochistic policeman, connections that will make your head spin, and all set in Franco-era Barcelona. I really enjoyed this book. It was like Alexandre Dumas meets Wilkie Collins meets someone a little more modern.

Sarah Morris Remembers by D.E. Stevenson
This may fall in the bottom third of all the Stevenson novels I have read. But I still loved it. It was the perfect comfort read as I started my new job and needed something to unwind with. I won’t bother with any plot description. If know me and my blog, you know the general gist of her work. If you don’t just use the search window to see what else I have written about her.

My Wish List by Gregoire Delacourt
Story of a provincial French woman who wins the lottery and keeps it secret until she figures out what to do about it. In some ways I loved this book. It had a touch of Mrs Harris Goes to Paris about it, but deeper and more thought provoking than that. And the overall message of the book I found interesting and comforting. But there was a twist, that really annoyed me. I didn’t want it to be that book. Now that I know that twist, I think I would enjoy the subtleties of the story more than I did the first time around.

I’ve been back to work for two full weeks now. It is amazing how good it feels to be busy all day. The second day of getting up at 6:30 in the morning I thought “oh god no”. But then I reminded myself how billions of other people have to get up every morning as well. I was just part of that club again. Believe it or not, that actually worked. The other thing that propels me out of bed in the morning is looking forward to my 30 minutes of audio book listening on my commute.

Audio Books
Yes, after all your suggestions, I did indeed download an audio book for my commute. Most of you know I don’t think that audio book listening is reading and I have had a bit of an attitude about them as a result. But, I must say I love listening and it really makes the time fly. It even keeps me calmer in traffic. A few things have made it work for me. One, I chose a book I have already read, Nevil Shute’s In the Wet. I have been wanting to reread it for some time now. This gives me the perfect opportunity to visit the story again. Two, I chose a book with a really straightforward narrative. My mind wanders too easily. I need something that keeps moving forward. Three, the audio book app has a feature where with one tap you can go back 30 seconds. This has proven very helpful when I tune out momentarily to switch lanes or something similarly captivating.

I can’t believe how much I love audio books. What a revelation.

Revisiting a corny, elitist, and utter delightful dystopian screed
As I mentioned, the book I am listening to is Nevil Shute’s In the Wet. As a piece of literature it is so problematic and certainly not Shute’s tightest work. When the exact same information gets repeated about 20 minutes after the first time you hear it, you know there was a sleeping editor somewhere. Then again it was the 1950s, maybe he was drunk after a long Mad Men style lunch.

Shute, unhappy with the direction the UK was headed after WWII emigrated to Australia. And this book is his ‘Fuck You’ to dear old England. The novel centers around an opium-induced hallucinogenic flash to the future of the 1980s. Shute imagines an England where the socialist governments have turned everything the country into a sad, joyless, drab, corrupt, shameful, decaying mess. A million people a year emigrating to other parts of the Commonwealth. Rationing (forty years after the war) so bad that people haven’t seen pineapples or hams for years. And the Royal family more or less gets run out of town, at least temporarily. On the other hand, Australia is everything England isn’t. Prosperous and plenteous and run by fine men–not the idiotic, illiterate union bosses running and ruining England.

Oh, and toss in the repeated, casual use of one of the most reprehensible words in the English language and you have yourself a book. Shute was clearly a racist, but not in the KKK kind of way, but in the highly paternalistic, everyone know your place, isn’t he articulate, kind of way. We could discuss how much difference there truly is between these two types, but I will defend Shute a tiny bit on this aspect of his character. At least against the virulent and violent types.

Anyhoo, one of the things I had forgotten about was how Shute imagines a voting system that was adopted in in Australia in the 1960s where one person can have up to seven votes in electing the government. The ways one can obtain those seven votes really sums up Shute’s elitist outlook. I may have the exact order slightly wrong…

First vote: Everyone 21 or older gets at least one vote

Second vote: Education. A college degree or becoming a commissioned officer in the military gets you a second vote.

Third vote: Foreign travel. Making your living for two years abroad gives you another vote. Many who fought in WWII got this one.

Fourth vote: Family. Raising two children to the age of 14 without divorcing gets you a fourth vote. I guess after 14 divorce isn’t traumatic or disruptive. And what about single people? Nope.

Fifth vote: Achievement. This translates to money. If you make at least 5,000 pounds a year you get another vote.

Sixth vote: Religion. For religious officials, vicars, or anyone who does a “real” job for a “Christian” church.

Seventh vote: Given purely at the pleasure of the monarch.

Can. You. IMAGINE. such a system? Would it be better or worse than the unelected oligarchs who currently buy our politicians?

At any rate I am only about a third of the way through the book. The narrator is quite slow and just about as corny as Shute’s writing. But still quite enjoyable. Listening to the book I was reminded of how I skimmed the beginning of the book when I read it. It really just sets up a vehicle for the hallucination, but it takes Shute so long to do it. After not skimming through this part in the audio version, I can guarantee you that you could easily skip it and get to the interesting bits and not miss a thing.

And I haven’t even gotten to the part where our protagonist flies HM and the Duke from one Commonwealth country to another when it is deemed too dangerous for them to stay in the UK. That part of the story dovetails nicely with Shute’s fascination for aeroplanes and engineering in general. How can you not love a book that uses the word aerodrome?

I played a bit of the book for John and he, who already had a dubious opinion of much of my reading material, was a bit nonplussed at how ridiculous and mundane it is. I guess he just didn’t really get the significance of the pineapple scene. And I get John’s criticisms. But I still love this book. A fascinating story but so ridiculous in so many ways and I love it. I want to make it into a film. Most of you would hate this book. But some of you would love it.

I can’t wait for my Monday commute so I can continue the story.

Books at lunch
We’ve had some nice weather so I didn’t fully grasp that my new work situation doesn’t really offer much in the way of locations for lunch time reading. Hmm. But then I noticed that I am only about five blocks from the central library for Arlington County. Cool. A sandwich at my desk, a seven-minute walk, and then 45 minutes at the library. Could be a whole lot worse.

Catching up
Having a job that is writing intensive makes blogging, and social media, and reading blogs, and replying to email, and just about everything else that’s not TV a little more difficult to get to. No doubt I will find a pattern. And hopefully sometime soon I will have a chance to recap what I have been reading (and not listening to) lately.

  
I’ve been a little shy about writing about my period of “not working” on My Porch and Facebook for a whole host of reasons. First, I didn’t want to get the stench of failure all over me. Employers can smell that. Friends start to feel pity. Small children stop and point before they burst into tears. Second, well, there really isn’t a second. It really just boils down to the fact that I didn’t want to become that guy. You know, the one who can’t get a job.  I was also very aware that I am very lucky to have a partner whose hard work can carry us both if necessary. I truly don’t know how the long-term unemployed survive. Any complaints I might have made would’ve seemed whiny at best. Let me repeat this point. I was EXTREMELY lucky to not be unemployed and destitute. I am thankful for that every day. But that doesn’t mean long-term unemployment doesn’t suck.

One of the big issues round about this time was that the apartment building we are staying in had about four major renovation projects going on at once. It is a huge building and these projects involved jackhammer noises that I could literally feel in my internal organs. Just as one project would begin to wrap up they would start another one with slightly diminished noise but still enough that it was unbearable. The kind of unbearable where you feel like, and sometimes do, scream at the unseeable noise making machines to shut the hell up. I used to plan my day so that I would be home from 11:30 to noon because that was when the workers took their lunch break. It was the only time of the day I could even make a phone call.

Layer on top of that a job search that seemed to be going nowhere. The one-year anniversary of being out of a job. Linked-in notices about how everyone else I knew was celebrating work anniversaries and new jobs, and promotions. A “network” that wasn’t particularly helpful–despite all the good networking karma I have put out over the decades–I have never not helped someone with their networking requests. I even actually found a job for someone once. The realization that changing careers in your 40s isn’t as cute as doing it in your 30s. The direct and indirect comments from some in my personal life about my lack of job. The realization that my lack of paycheck was negatively impacting our house project and our retirement outlook. A spouse who never once complained about my work status but who works so hard himself that it was hard not to feel guilty.

When I was able to tamp down all of the guilt and anxiety I certainly did have many moments of pleasure. Who wouldn’t want to spend all day with Lucy? And we had such a wonderful summer here in DC that most days would find us sitting in the park for hours while I read and Lucy watched bunnies.

I didn’t blog very much while I wasn’t working. You would think I would have gone gangbusters. But an odd sort of paralysis set in that made a lot of formerly pleasurable things seem like insurmountable chores.

I got to the point when every post on Facebook or Twitter about people hating their jobs, or their co-workers, or the time they had to get up every morning, made me want to chime in with comments about gratitude for what they had that I didn’t have. But I really didn’t want to be that guy.

And then, in a blink it was all over. Realizing that I was going to have to come up with some new search terms if I was ever going to find a job, I plugged in “writing” into a job search engine. And up popped a job for which I was totally qualified. And with a company that had been working on the St. Es project for as long as I had and whose owner I knew on a first name basis. Instead of the never ending, byzantine, federal job search process where agencies regularly take three to six months just to call you for an interview, within a week I knew I had a job. And another week later I was sitting at my new desk.

Part of me thought I should take two weeks before starting back in. But that thought lasted for about five seconds. If I hadn’t finished something in 15 months, it was never going to get finished. So now I have a cube, and a computer, and a company mug. And I couldn’t be happier. No doubt the shine will wear off at some point. But when it does I will remind myself of the pitfalls of my extended vacation, wrap myself in my paystubs, and go back to work.

Do an image search on “unemployed” so many things to choose from. It was hard to narrow it down to just four images.

 

About ten years ago there was a book published in which the author decided to read 52 books in one year. I remember at the time thinking “That’s nothing, I read more than 52 books in a year.” Then I went to my ‘books read’ list and realized that the most I had ever read in one year was 37. So beginning in 2004, I decided I would shoot for reading at least 52 books a year. It wasn’t too difficult to achieve that year and to continue to achieve over the years.

Just as my perception in 2004 that I read way more than 52 books a year was grossly incorrect, my current perception that I am one of those people who reads at least 100 books a year is somewhat faulty as well. I just crunched the numbers and it turns out that I have only broken 100 books for the year twice. Once in 2009 and again last year in 2013.

I guess I think a lot of myself.

When I first started this post this morning I was intent on writing about how it had been a slow reading year for me having just finished my 51st book for the year. Shouldn’t that milestone been passed sometime back in July? But after crunching the numbers and comparing to previous years, my total so far for 2014 really isn’t too bad. Over 18 years I have broken 50 ten times. But in only five of those years have I broken 65–and I will easily get to 65 this year.

Here is what my reading totals look like since 1995, the first full year after I began keeping a reading log.

I have a new job now that will have me commuting again on Metro so my reading output is likely to improve as a result. I could drive to my new job, but who needs that hassle, especially when the alternative is to be reading?

So I guess 2014 won’t end up being such a bad year after all.

  
I tweeted this morning that during the five days that Simon Savidge (@SavidgeReads) stayed with me here in Washington, DC, thirty-one books managed to find their way into my apartment. Borrowed, bought, given, and free, I somehow managed to acquire thirty-one books in five days. Sue Parmett (@SueParmet) wanted a list of the titles. That is just the kind of pesky question I would ask and it seemed liked a great topic for a blog post.

So here are the many ways that these 31 books found their way in.

Borrowed
In the lounge of the enormous apartment building we are currently living in there is a nice little lending library. When we walked by it one night, Simon and I went in and had a look. We ended up taking six books back to my apartment. Three of those were Simon’s picks. I am not sure how he thought he would read three books in fewer than five days, but who am I to judge.  And I guess the nice thing about these six, is I can return them any time I want and they cost nothing.

I picked up The Bookseller by Mark Pryor because of the title and because Susan in TX (@readinginTX)  had mentioned the Hugo Marsten books recently. I’m 58 pages in and liking it. The Ambler I picked up because I can’t get enough of him these days. The Carlos Ruiz Zafon was recommended by Simon. We will see how that turns out. The other three were Simon’s picks. He read a bit of the one of the Vargas titles and found it wasn’t to his taste.

Bought
Not surprisingly Simon and I spent a bit of time in a book store or two. Since he was worried about space in his luggage, he ended up buying next to nothing. I, on the other hand went a little bonkers, partially due to his urging. I was glad for the peer pressure as I have been trying to inject more contemporary novels into my reading.

Our first stop was the fantastic independent bookstore in my neighborhood (and the best one in the city), Politics & Prose. Two problems with this visit. 1) Too many people at Booktopia in Asheville has hyped it up to Simon so he was expecting something more than just a good indie store. 2) There was an employee who was downright and too audibly rude to a customer on the phone. Granted, it sounded like a really annoying, probably even someone with dementia, kind of customer, but it was really off putting. But, it didn’t stop me from picking up a few things.



The top one is a about a Frenchwoman living in a small town working in a fabric shop when she wins the lottery. Plus the colorful cover was quite alluring. The Kerry Hudson book was a Simon, you must own this, pick. It has a hilarious, curse-filled opening line. The Lerner I bought because I am trying to learn Spanish and am looking for lit that has Spanish speaking settings. The Carol Shields is one of her earliest (maybe her first?), and to my mind one of her best. And it is perfect for those of us who like a literary romp. Largely overlooked, it is now back in print thanks to Open Road Media. The Koch sounds very interesting and was also a Simon, I’ve heard lots of good things about this one, kind of book.

The fantastic Capitol Hill Books, where you swear some of the book stacks are structural and holding up the Victorian townhouse. This place is chock full of reading copies, but frankly I think their prices are a bit high for such battered up stock. Linda W (@GrnArrowFanGirl) Tweeted that she thought she would go a little bonkers in this store because of everything there is to look at. I totally agree with her and when we first got there I kind of plopped on the floor and just stared at what was in front of me. It worked pretty well, that is how I found the three Monica Dickens you can see below.

I never pass up an Ambler I haven’t read. Monica Dickens has never steered me wrong. I loved Jenn Ashworth’s A Kind of Intimacy so when Simon pointed this one out, I had to have it. The Chesnutt was published in 1900 and is about a light-skin African-American couple who decide to live as whites. The bottom one with part of the spine missing can be seen below.

No idea about this novel or the author, but with a cover like this, I couldn’t pass it up.

One of the things I have been keeping my eye out for is books by people of color for Aarti’s A More Diverse Universe reading week beginning on September 14th. I was ready to read a third Adichie for the year–and I am still planning on doing that–but I thought I should mix it up with some other titles. I managed to pick up three or four books that will fit the bill and that I think I can get to in time. In addition to the Chesnutt listed above, I also bought a couple at Busboys and Poets bookstore/café, and then picked up a free book, shown further down the page, that will fit the bill.

These are all from Busboys and Poets. The Gay and the Singh are for A More Diverse Universe. The top book is a Simon-encouraged choice about a young gay man in South Africa.

Given
Simon brought be two gift books from England that he has talked about on The Readers. One book that he won in a Yankee Swap at Booktopia in Asheville. And then a little New York guide that he didn’t mean to leave behind.

Can you believe Simon got me to read Gone Girl? I can’t. It was kind of clever and interesting but I have some reservations about it that I can’t quite put my finger on.

Free
I’ve written before about the little libraries that have popped up in my neighborhood which are always a good source for free books, but I also found some at a café and in a box sitting on the street near Dupont Circle.

This one I picked up for free at Baked and Wired in Georgetown. They had a take one, leave one shelf. It is a graphic novel that I wouldn’t have probably picked up but Simon kind of foisted it on me. Then I thought it might be good for A More Diverse Universe.

I’ve never read any DLS and this was in one of the Little Libraries in my ‘hood, as was the E.H.Young, and I never pass up a Virago I don’t have. The bottom three were all taken from a box of free books in front of a brownstone near Dupont Circle. Alice James was Henry James’ sister. Again, I never pass up a Virago. And the bottom one appears to be a Portuguese version of Under the Tuscan Sun.

The whole pile

Six Days of the Condor by James Grady
Loved, loved, loved, loved this CIA novel. Earlier this ear I watched the 1975 film Three Days of the Condor starring Robert Redford and loved it. When I saw the book Six Days of the Condor at a charity shop for $1, I thought it might be fun to compare. What I didn’t expect was to be totally drawn into the book. I loved every minute of it. Couldn’t put it down. This is the kind of spy thriller I like. Fits well into my recent fascination with Eric Ambler. I am going to have to see if I find Grady’s other books as interesting.

Now that I have finished the book (in record time) I need to go back and watch the film again. I know for sure there are a few things that are different. I think the film may have taken place in New York. The book takes place in DC and is full of familiar locations without seeming name-droppy.

The Good House by Ann Leary
I’ve seen some lukewarm reviews for this book since it was published in 2012. I liked it way more than lukewarm. Story of a real estate agent in a small community on the Massachusetts coast. I almost thought I wasn’t going to like the book. Her life is kind of unravelling. Business isn’t doing so well, she had been to rehab but was backsliding. As I do, I wanted her to be getting her crap together and being successful. But I am glad I got over that because I really enjoy the story, the characters, the setting. It felt a bit like Marge Piercy meets Claire Messud.

Oh dear. I may have waited too long to write about some of these books. And I rarely keep notes. You know what that means? Bullet point reviews.

According to Mark by Penelope Lively

• Biographer Mark gets involved with granddaughter of the (dead) subject of his latest project.
• He’s married already.
• I love a Lively and I found I loved this Lively more than usual.
• There were moments when I felt the book was very much akin with Barbara Pym’s novels.

Hotel of the Saints by Ursula Hegi

• A collection of short stories that was much better than my bad memory would have you believe. (I think.)
• I liked the various settings (Europe, Mexico, the United States)
• One or two stories were quite moving.

The Uninvited Guests by Sadie Jones

• Given to me by Frances at Nonsuch Book.
• Down on their luck but genteel family in 1912 England waits for house guests arrive for the weekend.
• Then some other guests arrive.
• I found the book pretty enjoyable, but I think it would have been more effective without the metaphysical aspect. (Big surprise for me, I know.)
• I’m interested to read the other Sadie Jones novel Frances gave me.

Scarred by Monica Dickens

• A Monica Dickens published in the 1990s thankfully feels a little old fashioned.
• About a brilliant and caring plastic surgeon who is stalked by an unbalanced patient.
• The patness of the story line has a bit of a Nevil Shute or DE Stevenson quality to it. But the tragic bits don’t.

 
I don’t actually do a “Picture of the Week” feature, but I couldn’t resist when I came across this photo. It shows a sadly decaying house in Detroit made over into to something fabulous by Tyree Guyton. The picture is taken from a great feature on best places for creative types in their 20s and 30s to live that aren’t NYC and LA. As with all lists I don’t agree with everything but it does make me want to be in my 20s and creative…

Bucks County, Pennsylvania (more pictures below)

We have been unlucky in the fact that our temporary apartment building is undergoing countless  different loud construction projects. Rather ironic that the place we are renting while our own home is under renovation should be almost uninhabitable during work hours. There have been moments when I have been at the end of my rope and have uselessly screamed at the top of my lungs for the noise to stop. My temporary insanity is known only to myself because the noise is so loud no one can hear me scream.

We have been extremely lucky in the fact that we have good friends who have a lovely farm house in rural Bucks County, Pennsylvania. Lucy gets to run around, chase cats, stare at bunnies, and chickens and horses. John gets to talk gardening and sit by the pool with a glass of cold rosé. I get to chat, and eat and read. And believe it or not, I get to help mow the lawn. I love to mow lawn. We play bocce, watch birds, try to figure out the species of all the trees.

———-

This summer has been wonderfully mild. I’ve lost count of the number of nights, and even many days, that we have been able to turn off the air conditioning and open the windows. For DC in the summer this is unusual indeed. Even as the temperature has climbed occasionally into the 90s and the humidity ticked up a bit, we have yet to have a typical DC summer day. The kind that leave you sweating like a pig at 7:00 AM on your walk to the Metro.

On these cool evenings, with lovely breezes making Lucy’s last walk of the night feel like a childhood summer idyll, it is hard not to feel a bit cozy. As I contemplated what to read on one of these nights, I trundled down the hall to the closet that is serving as my main book storage while we are displaced from our home. When I opened the doors it was like the smell of a hundred used bookstores had been concentrated into that 4′ x 4′ space. If it wasn’t for the rather precarious stacks of books I would have crawled inside with a blanket and pillow and taken a little snooze.

A blurry picture of one of my temporary book closets.

———-

One of the books I am reading at the moment is Gladys Taber’s My Own Cape Cod. It’s been a few summers since we have been to Maine, and while I know that Massachusetts and Maine are not the same place, there are enough similarities that I’m letting the two places mix in my mind. Published in 1971, the memoir of Taber’s life on the Cape reminds me a bit of some of May Sarton’s journals. The book is arranged by season. I’ve gotten through spring and started summer. I love the way the book chronicles every day life and shows how the year unfolds through flora and fauna and weather. I’ve often wanted to keep that kind of journal. Taber seems a little obsessed with Vietnam and the arms race, but those are only minor, if frequent blips in the otherwise cozy and look at a seemingly simpler, quieter, less plugged-in time.

Lucy wants to help me mow the paddock.

Bocce ball