I read cozy and historical mysteries, a bit of Paranormal/UF, and to mix it up, I read science and gardening books on occasion.
I'm late getting home from work today by ONE hour ... ONE! and my beautiful boy Carlito:
is a shadow of his former self:
Apparently, 'lito had 2 or 3 matted spots on his sides that the groomer couldn't cut out, so she and MT decided it was best to go full-on lion's cut on his poor feline self. Because it would look better than the 2-3 bald spots on his sides. More consistent. Consistently awful.
Somebody is in the doghouse for this one ... and it's not my poor, sweet, bald-ass kitty. Who looks absolutely ridiculous.
The rest of me used to look as fluffy as my tail... why? WHY???
Got through the introduction and into the first chapter - and remembered the slog of my first time reading it. Nothing against Kean - it's just whenever we start talking about electrons swapping and using words like ions, I have t slow down to make sure I have the facts straight and I'm not conflating electrons with neutrons or anything stupid.
Not to mention constantly try to banish the 'old fashioned' orbital planets model from my head as I'm reading.
Huggins says READ FASTER - MY SPOON IS STILL MELTING!!
So. much. science.
Which is awesome. I'm thoroughly enjoying it and getting exactly what I wanted: an in-depth, you-are-there, description of the world of honey bees and what we know so far about how they function in the hive.
Originally written in German, the translation is good, but it's funny because the narrative voice reminds me so much of the way one of my former colleagues in Denmark spoke English. Grammatically perfect, but with a rhythm–dare I say melody?–that made it sound like he was ... I want to say 'talking to a child' but it wasn't condescending; it was simply a similar cadence. It's hard to explain, but the result is I can't hardly read this without picturing him in my head and hearing his voice. Which is totally ok (I liked him), but a tad discordant too, as to the best of my knowledge he was not a beekeeper.
I started this last night and I think it's one of those books you have to have a connection to in order to really get into it. My connection is actually two-fold: I am a Florida native, born and raised in the Sarasota area, where this story takes place, and my father was an orchid grower and hybridiser who did a lot of work for, and with, Selby Botanical Gardens, the 'scene fo the crime'. His health by the time this story takes place had deteriorated enough that he was in no way a part of it (nor would he have been anyway; his interest was creating hybrids, not obtaining rarities), but he would have known most of the players.
So far, Pittman's writing is straight-forward investigative journalism and reads like it. This is fine - he's a journalist, after all - and I've read one of his other books and enjoyed his style well enough. He started out writing for the Sarasota Herald Tribune, so he knows the area well (and is also a native); this is a bonus to a native Sarasotian - he's got the atmosphere pretty well nailed.
The other part he has nailed is the obsessive, fanatical, competitiveness of orchidists and orchid hobbyists. I'd say you have to see it to believe it, but I lived my whole life with it and I still can't believe the lengths they will go to in order to obtain new specimens, or hoard the ones they have. Whatever 'secrets' they develop to raise them successfully are just that - jealously guarded secrets. When my father wanted to learn about orchids (in the 50's or 60's, I think) - nobody would tell him anything beyond the basics about water, food and light. When he wanted to start hybridising - forget it; he might as well have been asking for CIA documents. My dad being my dad, he just did his own research, experimented, created his own glove-box, tested it out, and when it worked, gave the plans and specifications for it to anyone who asked for it. My dad was the best!
Still a long way to go in this book, and it's not going to be an easy, breezy read, but so far it's exactly what this native Florida girl living on the other side of the world needed. A true virtual trip home.
From atop a ladder, just after I finished putting the last of MT's books up.
The view from ground level. Not as invisible as I thought it would be, but not unpleasingly overpowering at all either. Very happy with the result, if also a tad depressed about how little shelf space this actually freed up for me.
I swear the books expand to fill the space without any help from me.
I think I liked the first one better, though this one was good. The premise, and series name, sound more twee and cutesy than the stories themselves are, though it's definitely cozy fare. Kay is an agent to animals used in the entertainment industry, mostly because she's from an acting family, loves animals and couldn't stomach being a vet.
The plot of this one was ... out there. But here's the thing, and I don't know if I'm going to explain this correctly: the premise was one that could have been believable, just.
I mean, stranger things have happened. But Copperman further complicated what was already a weird plot by adding layers of crimes and criminals. It's my feeling that he took an already weird plot and twisted it up to make it weirder when it didn't need to be.
And now what will look like something of a non sequitur but will make sense in a second, when I was at Bouchercon, my sister and I sat in on a panel that E.J. Copperman was on, and he kept talking about how he writes humorous cozies, like Donna Andrews. My sister and I were sitting at the back, so we could swap comments, sotto voce, and I said to her that I'd read most of his books and I didn't remember any of them being funny. Not that the jokes fell flat, but that I didn't remember there being any attempt at all to make them.
This is the first of his books I've read since Bouchercon, and now I see what he's talking about, and now I can say they're there, they just (mostly) fall flat. In fact, he seems to be going for a wiseass voice throughout most of the book, and it's either too heavy, or it's a NYC style of humor I fail to get, in a way that is similar to some people not getting British humor. It didn't ruin the book at all, but it became cloying at times.
I wouldn't say 'no' to a third book - I like the parts of the story where Kay is interacting with clients and their owners, and the scenes at her office feel balanced and witty. But I'm not sure if I'll rush out to get it - and it'll probably be in paperback.
Like any self-respecting bibliophile, I lie awake at night (ok, mornings) and contemplate how I can manipulate time and space to create more room for books. Several weeks ago, as I lie contemplating, and imagining someday turning my room into a library (were we to ever renovate), I noticed the space above my wardrobes:
I'm thinking to myself: that's a lot of wasted space ... I could pile books up there, but that would look messy. And desperate; maybe a tiny bit hoarder-ish. But if I put shelves up there...
So I started looking around, and found nothing that wasn't cheap particleboard/MDF, and it wasn't actually cheap. Nor anything that would look right. Then I started imagining what "right" would look like, and I realised it didn't have to be complicated. Sturdy, yes, but otherwise, the simpler the better.
I am a crap carpenter, but I can do simple. Especially if I can get cut to measure lumber. A quick bit of searching and I found a place 10 minutes away that would cut anything except plywood for free. (The big box hardware store - a store I hate on principle - only does it in certain locations, though they don't tell you which ones, and charge you for each cut.)
I measured, then sketched out what I wanted/needed, and headed to the lumber/timber store. An incredibly nice, patient staff member helped me out, showing me the pine posts I'd planned to use. He got called away just long enough for me to spot the Cypress posts they had in stock, and when he returned saw me admiring them. He made the off-hand comment that they were much cheaper than the pine, which was pressure treated; something I'd wanted to avoid. Then he helped me decide how to do the tops and fronts without using plywood, pick out all the wood, and then he cut it all to size for me. Total cost for all the wood, some L-brackets and a packet of self-drilling screws (best. invention. ever): less than $250AU (about$180US).
MT was on the sidelines due to a painful rheumatism flare-up, which he was not happy about, but while I was out running around the lumber-yard, he was using the time wisely. He pulled all his books off the top of the bookcase they'd been piled on precariously, in preparation for their new home.
He refused to take a picture of what they'd looked like before on the grounds that he wasn't sure he couldn't be charged with reckless endangerment after the fact. But to give you an idea: he had 151 books piled on top of an extended IKEA Billy Bookcase (the wide one).
I got home and sealed it all up with a clear acrylic; cypress has to be sealed but the grain was too beautiful to hide. At the same time, MT painted the top boards black - they were untreated pine and soooo did not match the cypress. Not even in a funky, eclectic, non-matchy way.
That was all yesterday. This morning, I marked everything up and stared putting it all together:
There are two sizes: 25cm (~10 inches) and 50cm (~20 inches). There's a hardwood cross-bar in the front of each one to act as a back-stop for the books that sit in front. 16 screws hold each unit together. Since they're sitting on wardrobes that are a bit over 3 meters (just over 12 feet) high, I did not stress the finishing touches, like covering the screws.
The hardest part was getting them up on top of the 'robes - they're HEAVY. But once we did:
They fit just as I'd hoped they would, and now give us three tiers of space for the books we want to keep, but likely won't need to access more than a couple of times a year, if that.
We're in the process of combing through the library for the books to add, but here's what it looks like so far.
I'll post a final picture once all the books are up there (we had to take a break; it's like the stairmaster from hell hauling the books up the ladder).
Stay tuned... hopefully this is going to work...
My 'discovery' of this book is a perfect example for the argument of using a continuity of style on book covers. A year or two ago, I bought and read You're Saying it Wrong, book about commonly mispronounced words, and loved it (I've been saying Turmeric and Van Gogh wrong all. my. life.) I recognised the similar cover on this, the authors' newest, and immediately snatched it up.
I should really rate this 4.5 stars, because in retrospect, I can recall several typographical and at least 1 grammatical error in the text, which seems especially egregious in a book about grammar. But I suppose perfection is an unreasonable expectation even for a grammar book. Actually, I don't believe that, but I am too lazy to adjust my rating.
Other than that, it's an excellent reference for word pairs that are often confused with each other, including the obvious affect/effect as well as some I'd never thought about before but were obvious when I saw them, like trooper/trouper, flair/flare and flout/flaunt. Also included are words/terms that are just used wrong, like epicentre and ambivalent.
Scattered throughout the list are a few spreads that cover when to use who/whom, the correct usage of lay/lie (I found their explanation for this the most useful I've ever read), and a general guide for latin and greek plurality: when to use 'i', 'a', 'ae', and 's'. This one sort of cleared up a running debate MT and I have had concerning the plural of 'platypus' - while we both favoured 'platypi' on aesthetic grounds (it sounds better than 'platypuses', which is what the local sanctuary has settled on), it would seem logical to follow the same rule used for 'octopus', which is 'octopodes'. I find this a happy compromise (MT is stubbornly sticking to the incorrect but more melodious platypi).
Each entry includes an example of the incorrect usage, the etymological history of the word/words, and most of the time, examples of correct usage for each word as well as basic definitions of each (nb: the author's state upfront that this is based on the North American dialect of English). It's well written, not dry, and informative. It will be a handy reference in the future when I'm unsure which word to use.
I was looking for something to read last night after finishing Notes from a Public Typewriter and found this in my stacks. I have no recollection of buying it. In fact, not only was I prepared to swear I didn't have it, I actually did say, not 48 hours ago, that I didn't have a copy. Excellent organisation skills I have, no?
Anyhoo... this was just the thing after reading Notes from a Public Typewriter - it was a similar subject, but much lighter, funnier and absolutely not philosophical. I wavered between 3.5 and 4 stars because I'd have liked the collection to be a little longer.
A few of the many examples that
... made me chuckle:
Customer: Do you have Agatha Christie's Death in Denial?
... made me laugh out loud:
Customer: Oh look, they've got a section on dictionaries. Perhaps we should get your brother one for school, for Spanish, what do you think?
Her daughter: Can we get one for when we go to Scotland for our holidays?
Customer: They talk English in Scotland, too, sweetie.
... made me rage:
Customer: I'm just going to nip to the supermarket to do the weekly shop. I'm going to leave my sons here, is that ok? They're 3 and 5. They're no bother.
Customer (holding up a copy of a Harry Potter book): This doesn't have anything ... weird in it does it?
Bookseller: You mean, like, werewolves?
Customer: No, (whispers) - gays.
A quick, easy and enjoyable read.
When Literati Books opened in Ann Arbor Michigan, the owner put an old typewriter out in the stacks, with a sheet of paper in it, curious about what might happen. In his wildest dreams, he imagined a sort of never ending story, where each patron would pick up where the last one left off; a true community built novel. Pragmatically, he figured he'd end up with a lot of nonsense or jokes about bodily functions.
What he got was something totally different and totally special. People wrote some silly stuff, but they also wrote poems, posed philosophical questions, proposed, broke up, and otherwise bared their souls. After several years of collecting the daily contributions, Gustafson was convinced to collect his favourites into what became this book.
Notes from a Public Typewriter is short, I think I read the whole thing in about an hour. It's almost purely a collection of what Gustafson considered the best, the funniest, the most touching. There are photos of the shop and patrons throughout, and every few pages, Gustafson writes a short essay-type piece to introduce context to some of the inclusions.
The 5 stars is because this book, for all its simplicity, moved me. By the end, it was hard to stay dry-eyed, to be honest. I'm sure Gustafson has collected a LOT of dreck over the years, but the simple lines he included here were honest, heart-felt, and sometimes raw.
I don't go looking for books that reveal what goes on beneath the surface, so I'm really no judge, but this one worked for me. What is on the face of it an anonymous, ever changing, mass of humanity going in and out the doors of one shop, is revealed in this short volume to be instead the very definition of a community.
An early stand-alone mystery from Carolyn Hart, that was originally bought by Harlequin and marketed as a gothic romance. This is one of those stories that is best discovered by someone who hasn't already read a fair variety of romantic suspense. With nothing to compare it to, one might find this a very lively and escapist story.
Leah arrives in South Carolina after the death of her paternal grandmother and Leah's subsequent discovery that she herself has been presumed dead since she was 2. Wanting to find out why, and the truth about what happened to her parents, she arrives at the Devereaux Plantation full of questions, discovering she still has a maternal grandmother who is thrilled she's alive, and 3 cousins that might not be so thrilled.
This slim volume reads exactly like a Barbara Michaels in many respects. Hart says in the introduction to this re-issue that she suddenly found herself in a market that had no interest in women writing murder mysteries, and after 9 years of rejection, found that she could sell her books if she made them romances. This bow to contemporary demands is apparent in the romance: it's insta-love at it's most glaring, and more than a little bit naive and awkward.
Sandwiched in between in the awkward romance is, unfortunately, only a slightly less awkward mystery, but knowing what I know about Hart's real mysteries, I have no problem believing it's because she had to cram it in along the edges. It's a good mystery; just not one that was allowed the space to unfold naturally.
It's definitely nowhere close to Hart's normal standards of writing, but hints of what will come in her future Death on Demand series are evident: haunting atmosphere and fully fleshed out characters that are capable of passionate acts of love and cruelty.
Pretty much what it says on the wrapper. I love snark and this random gift from a family member is just the sort of thing that makes me chuckle. It's a great collection, and was heading towards a 5 star rating, but it floundered a bit at the end. I was willing to overlook a couple of quotes - and really it was only a couple - that were repeated in slightly paraphrased form.
It's a thick book and one or two passing through the keeper is not unexpected. But at about the 80% mark, specifically the chapter on Motherhood, the quotes stopped being snarky and were just quotes about motherhood, some of them quite endearing and touching.
Then in the last 2-3 chapters, Dorfman lost that fifth star all together when he stopped quoting the greats and started ad libbing his own brand of snark, or at least what he likely considered snark. It was too acerbic for my tastes; it didn't read snarky nearly as much as it read angry and bitter. Vitriolic, even. The dude does NOT like Christmas. That's fair enough; Christmas can be a trying time for even the most festive feeling of us, but his barbs failed to find that sweet spot of gracious lunacy that can be Christmas. After that chapter, his further attempts at snarky comebacks to enduring cliches just fell flat.
Still, overall it's an excellent compendium of sarcastic and witty quotes that will serve me well as a handy reference when I'm at the end of my rope trying to be polite to the more challenging people in my life. Mostly time well spent.
I've had Ngaio Marsh on my TBR pile for a few years now, and kept putting her off because the titles I have are all related to acting (Marsh herself being a former actress), and the stage and it's behind-the-scenes drama doesn't interest me much. Still, she's a Golden Age writer of note, and I was determined to give the books a try.
I got off to a rough start; Golden Age writers generally have a very different writing style from most of today's fiction. More staccato, more concise, and it takes me a period of adjustment to find the rhythm. Enter a Murderer felt like that adjustment period took longer than usual, but once I found the groove, it was easy reading.
Alleyn has pale shades of Holmes about him; he's a thinking man's detective, and he likes to hold the clues close. This was not a fair play mystery, though it was written smack in the middle of the era of Fair Play. Still, I liked Alleyn well enough and I quite liked his sidekick, Nigel Bathgate.
The plot was, perhaps, trying too hard to be clever. By the end (after the reveal) it's obvious what Marsh was aiming for, and it was an admirable goal, but achieving it required a fair amount of convoluted plotting. I don't know if it didn't work for me because it was overdone, or because it required too much time with the secondary characters, all stereotypical stage actors of one sort or another, and hence, unreliable in the extreme. Either way, I was unable to buy the motive, although I did enjoy the ride for the most part.
I have a few other Marsh books on the TBR pile, and I'll happily read them; there's enough here to peak my interest, if not quite enough to spark my devotion.
And "Charlie" wrote a letter too:
Marian, the woman I've been speaking to, also passed along this message:
I bought this because of 1. the cover, and 2. I'm always on the lookout for ways to use the things I grow.
I'd never heard of the Officine Universelle Buly, and hadn't a clue it was a shop until I received the book. The writing style fits; there's a very strong marketing vibe to the phrasing. But I thoroughly enjoyed all the information contained in it. It's mostly a list of different natural ingredients that can be used as beauty regimens, though there are a few first-aid type recipes here too. Each has a little segment on its history, mythology and cultivation/harvesting, as well as tips on how to get the most out of the ingredient.
Beauty regimens are not necessarily my jam, as I'm a low maintenance kind of girl (read: lazy), but nevertheless there were a lot of useful finds, including one that might help MT manage his painful flareups of rheumatism.
A beautifully constructed and laid out book that will serve as an interesting reference when I'm in need of a solution that can come out of my garden.