hogglestock

 
As most of you know I have been in a terrible reading slump so far this year. Not getting much of anything read. I have definitely been doing much better since we hopped on a plane to Hawaii for a little rest and relaxation. And then I had a moment at the newstand/bookshop at the airport on our way from Oahu to the Big Island. With about ten unread books of various flavors I wasn’t in the market for anything more. And this particular shop had a small and less than enticing selection, I was just in there to buy some highly sugared treat. But then this caught my eye:

Heads in Beds by Jacob Tomsky
A gossipy tell-all book by a guy who had spent years working in hotels. Could there be a better beach read? One of those books you know you can finish in a day if you choose to. I had no intention of buying it. After all I still have a month to go on the official TBR Triple Dog Dare and about nine months to go on my self-inflicted decision to extend the dare until we move back into our house sometime in late November. Of course under the rules of the Dare, I was not prohibited from buying the book, I just wasn’t supposed to read it until the challenge was over.

But this was a book I wanted to read now. And so I failed at the TBR Triple Dog Dare–although I intend to continue it, this was just a momentary blip–but I succeeded at getting lost in a book. After purchase I went to the gate area to read and found myself so engrossed that I kept reading as I walked down the jet-way for our short flight to Kona. (On the runway I was temporarily distracted as I got to watch fighter jets and a big refueling tanker land at close range, but then, back to the book.)

Heads and Beds can be broken down roughly into four main themes: 1) Jacob Tomsky’s personal and professional coming of age; 2) gossipy bits about guests famous and not famous; 3) tales of the crazy stuff hotel staff do  when no ones looking; and 4) insight into how the hotel biz works and why your stay has been awful or wonderful. Of these four I was most interested in numbers 1 and 4 and then part of 3 also interested me.

1) Tomsky’s personal story boils down to him falling into the hospitality industry after realizing that his Philisophy degree wasn’t very marketable.

2) The gossipy bits are a necessary part of this kind of book, but stories about people too famous to name always leave me disappointed. I want to know who acted that way. And the stories about the non famous were interesting and added color but none of the activity described really surprised me–although I am sure it will surprise many.

3) I didn’t care so much about staff hijinks undertaken merely to relieve boredom, but I was fascinated by all the ways hotel staff show appreciation and disapproval of guests and hotel management. And that part leads into my favorite parts of the book…

4) How the hotel biz works. Hotel lost your reservation? Given a terrible room or a fantastic upgrade? It’s all here and pretty fascinating. It should come as no surprise but being a dickish customer will never get you anything good in the hotel industry. You may think you have extracted some benefit, but hotel employees have way of exacting revenge in ways that aren’t always apparent.

Besides being nice, want to know how to be treated well in a hotel? Tip. Oh yes, you should also tip. Did I mention tipping? The parking valet, the doorman, the bellman, and, if you want the upgrade you hand over a twenty (minimum) to the front desk agent upfront. You don’t wait until he has done something for you, you pay him upfront and hope for the best. May not get an upgrade, but you may get a late checkout or a bottle of wine.

And a word about the bellmen. They really want to take your bags up for you. Even if you have wheels on your luggage. Sounds stupid but this was a revelation to me. I always felt a bit ridiculous as an able bodied person with a wheelie bag getting “help” with my luggage. Apparently 98% of people checking in feel the same way,  but that bellman really, really wants your tip.

Speaking of tipping, to my recollection Tomsky is silent on tipping housekeeping staff. He talks about tipping “housemen”, the guys who deliver the roll-away bed or things like that. He says if you tip them they will bring you anything you desire. But I don’t think he mentions tipping housekeepers. I could have missed that part–and I don’t doubt for a second that he would advocate tipping them.

If a lot of this sounds like Anthony Bourdain’s Kitchen Confidential for hotels, that’s because it is a lot like that. I didn’t mind for a minute. I enjoyed KC when I read it eons ago. The tone of this book is perhaps a little more cynical than it needs to be–sometimes you wonder if the author is describing a cynical world or if he himself is a really a bit of a dick himself. I realize that is twice I have referred to dickishness–but I can’t think of any other descriptors that convey so perfectly and succinctly much of the behavior (guest and host) described in this book.

A fun, quick read, with lots of tidbits to think about when dealing with hotels.

P.S. I worked for six months at a lovely, 21-room hotel in Chelsea (London) in 1992. Some of what Tomsky writes about is familiar to me from that experience, but I wasn’t in the business long enough or at a big enough hotel to encounter the world he describes.

 

Best t-shirt I have seen so far on this vacation. And given that it was the Kingdom of Hawaii before US sugar barons overthrew the monarchy I think the coronet is certainly very fitting.

Currently I am spending my mornings walking the streets of Honolulu visiting old haunts while John is busy with a work conference. After these long walks (3+ hours) I come back to the hotel for a little beach or pool reading. Not a bad life.

Leaving books on benches
On my walk this morning I took a walk through the University of Hawaii Manoa campus where I got my first master’s degree. I took along three paperbacks to get rid of. I left them on various benches and hope someone will pick them up before they get thrown in the trash. I kept looking for nerdy book types hoping they would take the bait. With the ratty old copy of Under the Volcano that I chucked into the recycling yesterday my luggage is getting lighter and lighter.

Do you think one of these stock-photo kids at UH will pick up one of my books?

The Uncoupling by Meg Wolitzer
Definitely my least favorite Wolitzer, but I am not sure I hated it as much as some of you. Still on my scale of 10 I would probably give it a 5, which means I am ambivalent.

Tossed another one aside
Started to read Keeping Bedlam at Bay at the Prague Cafe by M. Henderson Ellis and dispensed with after 30 pages. My experience with Under the Volcano has me way too impatient these days to make it to page 50 unless I am enjoying it. One of the blurbs referenced the kooky protagonist in A Confederacy of  Dunces. But what it should have said that Ellis is trying to create a memorable character like that.

Casting for Mapp and Lucia
The Mapp and Lucia Facebook page has been a frenzy of speculation about the BBC’s decision to film the beloved Benson series. The latest has been dream casting for each of the characters. I think I am stumping for unknown actors to fill all the roles. How anyone could hope to top Geraldine McEwan at Lucia, Prunella Scales as Miss Mapp, or Nigel Hawthorne as Georgie is beyond me.

Isn’t this a lovely building?
If anything could entice me to become a Christian Scientist it would be this lovely church in Honolulu. The stone is lava rock.

Photo credit here.

 

   

Flirt by the late, great Helen Frankenthaler I don’t mind abstraction in my art, but I hate it in my books.

When will I learn my lesson? I vowed once before that life was too short to spend time reading some books. Yet what do I do? I pick up the already twice-tossed aside Under the Volcano by Malcolm Lowry. And, as you may have read in my last post, things were going pretty well. I had gotten to page 100 and was finding that I was enjoying the journey. After reading about 30 more pages tonight, I decided there were a few plot points I wasn’t getting so I looked up the synopsis on Wikipedia. Holy cow, you would think I was illiterate. The number of things I missed, misunderstood, misconstrued, or was just plain mistaken about could fill a book. Even the first chapter which I thought I read really closely held secrets about which I was utterly clueless.

So guess what? Never again. Never, never again. No more Conrad, no more Lawrence. Faulkner and Joyce you will remain dead to me. Ford Madox Ford and yes, even Virginia Woolf, just leave me alone.

Depending on which superficial online source one consults E.M. Forster, Hemingway, and Fitzgerald are also considered modernist writers. That may be the case for reasons unknown to me, but I have never read anything by any of those authors (and I have read a lot of their books) that comes even remotely close to the tedious, scattered, bullshit stream of consciousness that makes me hate modernism so much. Oddly, those same superficial sources list modernist characteristics that seem an awful lot like post- modernist characteristics.

Ezra Pound said “Make it new.” I say, make it make sense.

I am linear, here me roar.

Ugh. I feel like I need to wash my eyeballs.

Better luck with the rest of my stack of travel books.

  
Nothing like an 11-hour flight to get one reading again. Before we left DC for Hawaii I finished up a D.E. Stevenson romance. Always an enjoyable thing, but this time it made me hunger for something with a little more meat. I first picked up Great Expectations. My friend Roz, knowing I am not a Dickens fan thought I should try it. Less than a page into it I realized I had seen a TV adaptation and wasn’t keen on the plot. The criminal in the marsh holding it over Pip. Too much anxiety for me. Who knows I may pick it up in the future, but this wasn’t the moment.

I am reading a real version, not an e-book.

So then I picked up Under the Volcano. Even though I blogged last time about taking this one on vacation I had already put it back on the shelf thinking I would never read it. But after my two paragraphs of Dickens it began to call my name from the other room. So I read a few pages before going to sleep. And, although I have given up on this one twice before, it quickly became clear to me that third time would be the charm. The trick was to read it slowly and to really think about what was written. This was not going to be a quick read. I was almost immediately taken in by the setting and the story. So when I picked it up on our flight today I was astonished and happy that I read about 100 pages, about 1/4 of the book. For something as dense as this 100 pages in one day was pretty impressive for me. And, contrary to what I wrote before, there is no way I read to 100 when I tried this book before. I probably stopped at 20 or so. As I moved along reading it today on the plane, it was clear I hadn’t gotten very far on my previous attempts.

I also picked up and read Ella Minnow Pea from cover to cover. As I said on Goodreads, a cute idea looking for a story. Meh.

So, first day of vacation and I have already made gonzo progress. Here’s to more of that.

 
In a word: no maybe.

But you can bet I will be taking far more than I need to take for ten days. I will probably end up taking nine in total. When I travel I like to take editions that I don’t mind getting damaged or leaving behind. So the pile of mass market books on the right is all likely to go–except I will only take one of the V.S. Naipaul novels–so that is eight books right of the bat. And I’ll take at least one of the trade paperbacks, more likely two. Except while I was just typing that sentence I thought “What if I took them all?” Hawaii is easy to pack for, I can carry this many books. I realize this makes me certifiable. But my normal tendency to worry about not having a good selection of books on a trip is amplified because of my recent difficulties finding things I want to read. It was that same worry that made me decide to add the trade paperbacks. I thought I might need something more contemporary to break any potential logjams created by the pile of ratty old vintage paperbacks.

The thing about this vacation is that John will be working for half of it. He has a conference in Honolulu for the first part of the trip that will keep him busy during the day and in the evening as well. So I will have lots of time to myself. And even though I lived in Honolulu from 1995 to 1997, I know very few people there.  Plenty of time to read. And, our flight from DC is almost 11 hours non-stop. Usually we connect in San Francisco which breaks up the flying time.

So let me break it down.

In a Free State – V.S. Naipaul OR
The Mimic Men – V.S. Naipaul
My experience with Naipaul has been a bit mixed. In my younger days I found him a little dry and somewhat challenging to read, but there was something about his books I liked. More recently, in 2006, I read A House for Mr Biswas and found the experience more enjoyable. I think I am also drawn to him because his books take me out of the US and the UK. My reading can be dangerously limited geographically.

The Black Tulip – Alexandre Dumas
I’ve had this one for a while. His other books have been quite quick and enjoyable reads despite being a gazillion pages each. This one is short and about tulip industry intrigue. I have high hopes for it.

Sweet Danger – Margery Allingham
There is something about a trip that makes me think I should take along a green Penguin. Maybe because they are mystery/thrillers and most people find those escapist and good vacation reads. I don’t necessarily feel that way, but am going to try again nonetheless. The last time I read a green Penguin (The China Governess also by Allingham) I was also on vacation. Although now that I say that, I did read one late last year (Nest of Vipers by Tod  Claymore) and didn’t really enjoy it. So then my twisted thought process moves to “Well, if I get this one out of the way it will no longer clog up my TBR.”

Heritage – Vita Sackville-West
Her first novel. Expecting to enjoy this one.

Those Barren Leaves – Aldous Huxley
For me there are two Aldous Huxleys. The one who writes books I have enjoyed Point Counter Point, Brave New World, Chrome Yellow) and the one who writes books that I had too hard a time getting into (Antic Hay). I’m hoping this one falls into the former category. If not, another one off mys shelves.

Under the Volcano – Malcolm Lowry
I have read the first hundred or so pages of this TWICE. For some reason, despite taking my ‘life is too short’ pledge a while back, I am going to start this one over and see if I can’t make it all the way through. If I try and it is a no go, I will forever remove it from my TBR.

Scarred – Monica Dickens
I know I should love Persephone author Dickens, but I am not sure that I do. And I am not even positive this is the same Monica Dickens. We will see.

The Groves of Academe – Mary McCarthy
I loved The Group and am excited read something else by McCarthy. I only paid 48 cents for this ratty copy yet it is the one book in this pile I am somewhat anxious to leave behind while travelling. I don’t see her titles around much and I begin to think maybe I have the last existing copy.

When it comes to the trade paperbacks I only know that everyone seemingly loved Ella Minnow Pea and I am a little intrigued to find out how he does it; I tend to love Meg Wolitzer; and Mary Gordon has given me some good reading moments. Don’t know anything about the other two, but I have a sneaking suspicion that I will be annoyed by the Ellis.

With these words, Marge Simpson convinced Bart that he should talk to a psychiatrist. I could use that right now.
 
My streak of not being able to finish books continues. For some reason it doesn’t feel like a typical reading rut. It feels more complicated than that. I have some thoughts about why I am having such a difficult time.

I have too many books started. Normally this isn’t an issue for me, but for some reason when I think about picking up one of the books I am currently reading I am overwhelmed by the need to make progress which paralyzes me somewhat.

I took on too many worthy books. Middlemarch and Out of Africa are both good, enjoyable books, but their literary ‘importance’ has fooled my brain into thinking they are challenging. Like telling a kid that a food they would otherwise love is good for them. Suddenly they don’t want to finish it.

I accepted an advance review copy that I no longer care much about reading. I almost never accept advanced copies of books from publishers. The only one I have ever accepted was a Maggie O’Brien novel. In that instance I couldn’t wait to read the book and ended up loving it. But then recently I was approached by a publicist for a Real Housewife of New York. Being a RHONY fan and the novel being written by Carole Radziwill, easily the most intelligent of all the Real Housewife shows–I know that is a low bar, a really low bar–I thought I would find it a bit of a romp. Candace Bushnell gave it a blurb. I figured it would be an easy read in any case, and it is, but just the fact that I am somewhat obligated to read it makes me a little nutso.

The TBR Triple Dog Dare is kind of kicking my butt. Even though I have over 300 books to choose from, I think my participation in the TBR Triple Dog Dare has me feeling somewhat trapped in my reading choices. I think I need to shuffle my stack and pull out something that makes me squeal.

I’m having a bad reaction to last year’s competition to read 100 books. Last year the contest with my friend Roz to see who could read 100 books first is haunting my reading pattern this year. Since I am racing no one this year, I think I have gone to the opposite extreme.

Life is happening. I have been busy for the past month and half, but I’m not sure that is much of an excuse.

Now that I have all that out of my system I see two ways out: Either 1) choose one book that I have already started and put the rest away until it is finished; or 2) go find something fabulous that I know I will enjoy and put the rest of them away.

Thanks for listening. The patient always has the cure within.

If you are annoyed by Jonathan Franzen as much as I am the short video that Steerforth links to on his blog The Age of Uncertainty will drive you around the bend. What a pompous idiot.

Click here to be annoyed.

     
Thirty-six days into 2014 and I have only finished three books. I can’t remember the last time I was doing this poorly with my reading plans at this time of the year. Normally January and February are very productive months. I do feel like I have a bit of an excuse. Getting ready for our house renovation has been a fairly time consuming series of tasks. (For those interested in such thing, you can keep up with house progress on Lucy’s Forever Home.) But still, three books? It isn’t like I don’t have anything to choose from.

Low lighting conditions and a shaky arm make for a bad photo. This is the giant stack of books I have for my TBR for the next year. With no book shelves they will remain stacked on top of boxes of other books while we live in our temporary apartment.

Even packing most of my library into boxes and having taken up the TBR Triple Dog Dare is no excuse. I kept out at least 300 books out of storage and that is certainly enough to choose from for the next year or so. Part of my problem are the books that I am reading.

Books I just don’t want to finish
Normally if I get past page 50 and still want to read something I see it to the end. But lately, eh. I have three books that I feel are just weighing me down and for no good reason.

Solar by Ian McEwan
I am hot and cold on McEwan. For a good hundred pages of this book I was hot. Then in the closing pages of Part One I just didn’t like the turn it took and almost instantly lost interest in continuing. So great was my change of heart that I didn’t even feel bad tossing it aside.

Don’t Tell Alfred by Nancy Mitford
I am starting to think that I don’t like Nancy Mitford as much as I thought I did. I thought The Pursuit of Love was pretty delightful. The follow up Love in a Cold Climate was just okay for me. Don’t Tell Alfred started out really strong but then it started to dawn on me that the narrative was turning into a succession of madcap situations about which Fanny couldn’t dare tell her husband Alfred. After 134 of 223 pages I decided that this one was taking me way too long to read and what was far worse is that I just didn’t give a crap.

The Final Solution by Michael Chabon
I read Michael Chabon’s first novel The Mysteries of Pittsburgh when it was first published (when I was in high school). I think the only reason I persevered then was the promise of a gay character at a time when they were few and far between in the literary world. Since then I have never been able to get into any of his other books. This 131-page novella seemed like it was a chance to break that streak. Wrong. Forty pages in not only don’t I care about the plot, I just don’t find his prose enjoyable to read. His is the kind of writing that isn’t difficult but I still find myself constantly rereading paragraphs because nothing sinks in.

Books I am reading slowly but enjoying

Middlemarch by George Eliot
I have always meant to read this novel and I have a  lovely copy of it but what finally got me to pick it up was seeing Amanda’s progress in reading it. Her Goodreads progress kept getting posted to Facebook and that made me think it was time. I am enjoying it, but I haven’t picked it up in a few weeks.

Out of Africa by Isak Dinesen (Karen Blixon)
I’ve wanted to read this one since we visited Kenya in 2008. Quite enjoying it. But given my somewhat distracted state of reading these days: is the narrator a male or female?

Books that are helping me over the hump
On the last episode of The Readers Simon and I discussed at length his challenges finding time to read with a new full-time office job part of his life and no good commuting time for reading. One of things I suggested to him was to read nothing but books he knows he will love (in his case, Agatha Raisin mysteries). My theory is that if he can find time to read those than he really does have time to read he just doesn’t want to read what is in front of him. Well, I have been relying on trusted authors to add some brilliance to my otherwise dull reading of late. D.E. Stevenson’s Still Glides the Stream I gobbled up in no time and I am loving every word of Barbara Pym’s Quartet in Autumn. If you ever wanted to read Anita Brookner with a sense of humor, Quartet in Autumn is for you. So bleak, but being Pym, still so delightful.

   
I posted this on Super Bowl Sunday in 2011. Seemed like a good time re-post it. 

If you are like me you couldn’t care less about football and the Super Bowl. So I thought I would try a different kind of super bowl Sunday. Also check out this week’s Sunday Painting, and my TBR Dare update.

Footed Bowl by Frances Palmer

Hammered Stainless Steel by Simon Pearce

Ceramic bowl made by a friend.

Urchin Bowl by Element Clay Studio

A bowl in the spa at our hotel in Chiang Mai, Thailand

Basalt bowl by Wedgwood

Ancient Celtic bowl

Beautiful, simple ironstone bowl found on Faded Plains

Lots of bowls at John Derian

And how could I forget hotty Jeremy Northam holding this golden bowl from the movie adaptation of Henry James’ The Golden Bowl

 
For those of you who haven’t noticed, I have started a new blog devoted to the year-long house project that we will be embarking on in the next few weeks. It will have lots of fodder for people who are house and garden junkies. And lots of Lucy photos. In fact, the new blog is called Lucy’s Forever Home.

So if you are the kind of person who likes this kind of thing, this is the kind of thing you will like (nod to Gertrude Stein Muriel Spark).

Not our house. Inspiration.