Am I Ready for Reading in the New Year? Oh, Gosh!

Actually, I have made a list of reading intentions for the New Year--particularly the beginning of the New Year. I have quite a towering TBR pile of books I've accumulated in the past few months.

I want to read The Vanity Fair Diaries by Tina Brown. I greatly admire her and have for many decades. And I think I admire her most for how breathtakingly vital she made The New Yorker while she was editor, in the years preceding her tenure at Vanity Fair. After she left, The New Yorker retrenched and eventually hired the throwback David Remnick as editor in 1998, who absolutely REFUSES TO HIRE women  journalists to do any investigative journalism for his precious magazine. He publishes the occasional woman writer's short story or poem, but no serious journalism. Personally, I don't think it helps The New Yorker's circulation. Circulation was very high when Tina Brown was editor. Sorry, David. You belong to the 1950s. And so does The New Yorker's circulation. How sad for such a historically prestigious magazine. How difficult for David Remnick to realize--women buy magazines, too.

In other reading, I'm investigating historical climatology--the effect of climate, especially climate change, on historical events and epochs. Has this ever been a fascinating line of research for me this week! I'm particularly interested in the climate of The Little Ice Age, which lasted from the 1500s through the 1700s. Fascinating, but deep reading. I'm especially interested in the effect of climate on  the settlement of New England in the 1600s. Wow...

For pleasure, I'm still reading Elin Hilderbrand's Winter Solstice, the fourth and final volume in her Quinn Family or Winter Street Inn Nantucket novels. Oh, gosh!! I have followed this series, book by book, and it's very, very good.   ***It looks as though my current proclivity for lighter reads of fiction is still very much with me. And I only have POTUS to thank, really, for making me see how important it is to nurture one's soul very, very well when all hell is breaking loose in this country. Thank you, to all my readers, for allowing me to be frank.



 

Christmas Eve Musings

I've had such a wonderful Christmas Eve Day. Here in northeastern New York, we've been having lots of wild winter weather. I had the good fortune to spend a wonderful week in northern Vermont last week, cross-country skiing and snowshoeing in Stowe, in the Mt. Mansfield region. I had lots of time to reflect and write in my journal, which I particularly like to do at this time of the end of the year.

We had multiple snowfall events last week, which were good for the skiing, but which delayed my return home by a day.

I'm so glad to be home again, which, to me, is the happiest way to feel after a time away. I made Ken his favorite cookies today while listening to all of my favorite Christmas songs while doing so. Then we had a lovely family walk with Sasha, which she loved. As we began our return home, just before dusk, it started to snow. Five to nine inches of snow expected by noon tomorrow. Nice. Tonight Christmas movies and an easy shrimp dinner at home. Feels very cozy here. We're as snug as can be as the temperature has plummeted early this Christmas Eve.

I read three books while I was in Vermont and finished two, both of which were Christmas-related fiction. I have continued to enjoy my light reading! After Christmas, I'll enjoy assessing where I'm going with books for the new year.

I Do Hope I'm Back! At Least That's My Intention

My sincerest apologies to everyone for disappearing these last two and a half months without notice.

What happened:
In mid-September my literary self went AWOL and so far has not been found.

Oh, yes, I'm still reading as much as ever, but without my literary self as director,  I've succumbed to
reading mostly light-weight stuff--romances, light crime with happy endings, and celebrity memoir, with just a few exceptions. If you examine my "Books Read in 2017" sidebar, you will see what I'm talking about. I must say that I've read a number of light reads and romances that have been satisfying. More about that in another post.

I recently finished one of my exceptions, a history/crime combo entitled Death in the Air: The True Story of a Serial Killer, the Great London Smog, and the Strangling of a City by Kate Dawson Winkler, which was published in early November. Winkler is a journalist, and this book is what I'd  call a popular history. It does lay down the facts of the circumstances, causes, and impact of the London Smog of December 1952, but not with great authority. The serial killer aspect is interesting--only three of Christie's victims were murdered during the Great Smog. The rest of his history is also included. I found it very interesting and worth reading.

Early last week we had a few nights that dropped into the mid-thirties Fahrenheit. I didn't think too much about it--it was a much cooler than normal summer--but did I ever wake up when a day or two later all the red maples or "swamp maples" (acer rubrum) in our area started to turn to their autumnal reds and oranges. What a shock! Two weeks too early. I haven't  organized my schedules and my life to take advantage of these beautiful moments before the leaves fall to the earth. I'm not ready! Help!

I'm too busy this month, busier than I like to be, though it's for a beneficial cause.
Reading has had to assume less prominent proportions.

Tomorrow, Wednesday, I have a day to recharge batteries. Mansfield Park! Move on!

And have you heard the good news about Claire Messud's latest novel? I listened to Maureen Corrigan's review of it on NPR late this afternoon, and I will read it soon, just as I've read all of Messud's work. The title is The Burning Girl.

Messud's The Emperor's Children was my best book of the year in the year I read it, introducing me to the full majesty of Messud's literary powers. Awe-inspiring.
I also fully appreciated The Woman Upstairs--a very different novel from the one previous, but a provocative read nonetheless.

Weekend Prayers: Time for Mansfield Park and Other Books

As I've noted in a previous post, this September in particular is an overly busy one for me--not of my choosing. So I've got to capture reading moments and cling to them for dear life!

Because I'm determined to read and finish Mansfield Park this month, I must move forward with serious intent on Saturday and Sunday this weekend--not to the exclusion of outdoor activities, by any means. I guess I'm saying I need to make use of every bit of spare time this weekend that I can to move forward in MP, because it is, after all, I think, Jane Austen's longest book, at about 420 dense pages. Determined to finish it this month for James's Read-along of James Reads Books (see sidebar).

So far I'm finding it a bit of a challenge, as far as themes are concerned. And I do enjoy and feel rewarded by tackling the challenge. More to come on this topic as I read along! I highly recommend this novel, based on the first 60 pages. Such complexity!

THUS! Because MP is dense, I must have another less complex book going, and I've grabbed Sue Grafton's N is for Noose, which is proving to be just the light-hearted private detective sort of thing. For those of you who know me, it's amazing that I haven't picked up a Grafton novel in 19 months!! In this one, Lindsay is stuck in the fictional Lake Nota in the middle of the Yosemite region. It's not a happy place where she's working either, which is typical for Lindsay. In any case, the mystery is excellent fodder for that half-hour before falling asleep.

Thank Goodness for Labor Day Reading

I'm currently in enormous need of a 3-day break. I'm so grateful for three days to let down and rest my brain.

I'm going to begin Jane Austen's Mansfield Park tomorrow morning, which I'm reading for the Jane Austen Read-a-long at James Reads Books. (See sidebar.)  And I'm so glad to know that on Sunday we will have rain. It seems assured.  That will give me time to "sink in" with the books I'm reading, to let my whole being relax, without the feeling that I should take advantage of good weather and hike all day. 

I am also totally absorbed by Anita Shreve's latest novel, The Stars Are Fire, which was published in May. This novel revolves around an actual natural historic event in Maine, in the fall of 1947. My Ken was born in Portland, Maine, during the catastrophe that befell some communities during one of the worst droughts to ever afflict the region. That prolonged drought and unusually torrid summer gave way to autumn wildfires that engulfed thousands of acres in coastal Maine. Ken's parents lived in South Portland at the time, which was spared the fires, but some coastal communities were not so fortunate. (By the way, Stephen King was born in Maine in November 1947).  

Shreve has made a compelling, compulsively readable story of one young family who barely survived the ravages of the wildfires. I heartily recommend this book. I haven't finished it, but I'm glued to the page.  

Fun with Lizzy and Darcy, or My Take on Pride and Prejudice

Because it was nearly a half-century since the last time I devoured Pride and Prejudice, I must say I had few expectations before reading. I was not surprised that I enjoyed it so much, but I did not expect to become so personally embroiled in the confrontations between characters. My emotions at times were over the top!

When Elizabeth first meets Darcy and she makes very quick judgments about his entire character and being, I longed to take her aside and tell her he's probably just shy. In other words, if people say little, how do you know, really, what they're like? I actually felt angry with her and embarrassed for her, as if I were in the book.

From that early point in the novel, my desire to prevent characters from doing their worst, kept me overly involved. "No, no--Don't say that." And,  oh, how I yearned to stuff a handkerchief into Mrs. Bennett's mouth! How I wanted to make Jane less saintly! (I even desperately desired to know what on earth Mary was studying. We never find out, not really. What are her goals exactly? Where does she see her studies taking her on the path of enlightenment? I'm afraid she's just a stock character, but Austen portrays all the stock characters so well.)

My favorite scene takes place during the time of  Lady Catherine de Bourgh's "visit" to Longbourn, when she arrives in her high-minded  chariot from Kent to lay down the law to Elizabeth. When they go onto the grounds at Longbourn to take a walk and talk, Lady Catherine morphs into the villainess I had been hoping she would become. When Elizabeth does not demur to L.C.'s class and station and holds her ground, Lady Catherine is piqued to exclaim increasingly robust protests of Elizabeth's imagined manipulations. In other words, L.C. goes off her rocker! Oh, I did love that--how rewarding it was to read it.

By the end of the novel, John Collins ("the Reverend") sends his last demeaning missive of chastisement to the Bennetts. And even he, in so doing, looks so much more ridiculously absurd than he did before, and Austen uses the word "obsequious" to describe his actions. All through the novel, this perfect adjective to describe Collins was just out of reach for me, though I searched my brain inside and out. 

I was rather shocked that the very first time Elizabeth entertains less than hostile opinions of Darcy, comes when she is gazing upon the magnificence and beauty of Pemberly. Hmmm. Elizabeth is totally human.





My

August: Really in the Hum of Reading Again

My decision to shift course and focus on the books I haven't read by favorite authors has been a boon to my otherwise somewhat dismal reading year. Hurrah!

My rereading of Pride and Prejudice was completed yesterday, and I look forward to writing my thoughts about it over this weekend. Very much enjoyed!!

Anita Brookner's Misalliance was excellent, as I noted in one of my previous entries, and I look forward to reading more of her novels soon.

Elizabeth George's A Great Deliverance, introduced her considerable literary powers in her debut novel, which was to my mind, superb. Although in 1988, at the time of the book's publication, the grim subject matter had the power to shock and stun readers, I found that the way the ending unfolded still had the power to shake me up, even though I had guessed what had happened to the killer in her youth. Not simplistic by any means!! I encourage readers to go for this one.

I found the tension, chill, and balletic jetees (I am missing my accent marks) in the ups and downs of Lynley's and Barbara Havers's relationship to be extraordinarily well done. Barbara so shockingly reveals herself to Lynley at the end, and he, stunned, matter-of-factly and, dare I say it, compassionately accepts the force and bluntness of the presentation of her vulnerability, that the scenes are some of the strongest I've read in a number of years. True depths here.

And George creates the powerful scenes, filled with the sharpest dialogue and repartee, yet she also has an uncannily original ability to create and establish settings. Truly original. Can't wait to read her second published novel.

Jacqueline Winspear's Birds of a Feather, the second Maisie Dobbs mystery, was so psychologically astute, reflecting a deep understanding of familial relationships, not only in her client Joseph Waite's family, but touchingly, in Maisie's troubled relationship with her father, and her relationship with Billy Beale, her loyal and esteemed World War I veteran assistant.

Jane Austen Novels for August and September--Join James!

James of "James Reads Books"(see sidebar) is hosting a month-by-month read-a-long of all of Jane Austen's novels. He began the program in July, when he sponsored  Sense and Sensibility. Follow the preceding link to see his introductory post to the read-a-long.

In August, the chosen title is Pride and Prejudice, and I have decided to re-read it. (Yes, still in tune with my goal to return to favorite authors.) My last reading of P and P was junior year in (gasp!) high school, 48 years ago--can it be that long ago? Ouch! A Penguin edition arrived today and I'm already onto reading Chapter 7. I find the films of Austen's novels, as entertaining as they've been, to be very distracting to Austen's intentions, her language, her themes, everything. So Colin Firth and all the rest are absolutely banished from this house until later in 2018! 

In September, James is hosting Mansfield Park,  the Jane Austen novel that I have never read, the book she believed was her best, the most complex thematically, and in honor of that, I cashed in a gift card to order the Harvard University Press hardcover edition of Mansfield Park: The Annotated Edition, edited by Deidre Shauna Lynch, which was published late in 2016. It is a colorful coffee-table book and it arrived today. It's not only a beautiful book, but for a coffee-table book it's extraordinarily readable, unlike some overly florid annotated editions. A regular paperback copy of the novel arrived today as well so I can read it alongside the annotated edition. (Sometimes, at least for me, beautiful annotated editions with gorgeous photographs and sidebar criticisms are apt to distract me from a work of art, so I plan to read several chapters of the paperback and then go over the annotations afterwards.) I'm very enthused about this. 

August is the month of Doldrums or the "Dog Days," so I'm hoping someone out there might enjoy reading along with us.

A Seismic Shift in My Reading Direction and Selections

For the past 3-4 months, dating back to April, I've noticed that I haven't been enjoying the books I've chosen as much as I would like to. Most have been somewhat amusing or interesting, but I realize that for months I haven't been enamored of the books I've chosen to spend time with.

This state of affairs is neither the books' faults nor my fault. My problem is in my selection of books to read.

It's been hard to handle my "reading blahs" because I so thoroughly enjoyed almost all of my reading in  2016, and in early 2017, so much so that a mere glimpse at my 2016 book list fills me with longing for the golden past. (See Sidebar.)

In short,  I realized I must take a different tack to save my reading life.

I've decided to return to authors whose books I've loved in the past. I'll try to carefully choose some  of their other books and see where this experiment takes me.

For example, I was so swept away by Devices and Desires by P.D. James, which I read in early July. She is one of my penultimate authors. Reading D&D was such a wonderful experience--it made me remember why I love to read. (See previous posts.)

Right now I'm reading A Misalliance by Anita Brookner, whose novel Hotel du Lac is one of my all-time favorite books. I'm really enjoying  A Misalliance--the character of Blanche Vernon is a rewarding challenge-- she is a very lonely character who is not easy to fathom, yet who is worth the time it takes to get to know better. Lots of depth here.

Blanche Vernon reminds me of the main character in the Barbara Pym novel I read much earlier this year, A Quartet in Autumn. This book was a stellar ***** read, so more of Barbara Pym's novels are on my TBR list. Yet!! Those of you who have read Brookner and Pym know that a steady diet of these two authors can be wearying. The challenge is to sprinkle their books in among the rest.

One of  Danielle's recent posts in her blog "A Work in Progress" (see Blogs sidebar)  reminded me that I loved the depth and sincerity and drama of the first Maisie Dobbs novel, Maisie Dobbs. Though I read  it years ago, and vowed to read another, I haven't yet.  So now I have Birds of a Feather  (the second Maisie Dobbs novel) at my fingertips.

And so on to Elizabeth George! I have read three of Elizabeth George's Lynley novels. There are so many more, and I never read the first few that won her loads of awards. The very first of her Lynley novels, A Great Deliverance, should arrive in Wednesday's UPS delivery. UPS is the only company  that will actually deliver to the door of our wilderness abode. (The UPS driver is our good friend Carson, who arrives with a peanut-butter dog biscuit for Sasha!)

I haven't read Elizabeth George in years. Even though she is still writing and publishing, her books do not sell as well as they did during the 1990s and the 2000s. But I am going back to this writer I love.

May I end by saying that I've been disappointed by the recently published books I've chosen to read and that have been so highly acclaimed this year? I assume it must be me.

I'm eager to see where this experiment takes me.

Brookner and The Last Laugh Dropping By

Thank goodness, I got my wish and Anita Brookner's Misalliance dropped in--what a relief to see a compact book of 208 pages on my table! I can't wait to get back to Brookner's voice. I'm so glad all of her books are still in print (or have been reprinted).

I listened to Maureen Corrigan's stellar NPR review of Lynn Freed's latest novel The Last Laugh,  about a group of women, all 60-something, and their sincere attempts to have a "getaway from it all" vacation in Greece. As you might imagine, when most women are 60-something or other, there are still plenty of family obligations--parents, children, husbands and lovers (both current and former), bound to encroach on even the most finely-tuned escape plans. This is high comedy, Corrigan says, and I'm looking forward to it. With bells on. (To listen to the six-minute review, follow the link and, as surprising as this is, click the arrow in  the upper left-hand corner.)

These are my new books for the weekend. I'm finishing up the last 65 pages of A Gentleman from Moscow by Amor Towles and am still reading The Windfall, the contemporary Indian novel by Diksha Basu, which I'm thoroughly enjoying.

A Book Blog Discovery

I stumbled upon a fascinating book blog today and couldn't wait to share it with you. I was commenting on James's (of "James Reads Books"--see sidebar for hyperlink) most recent post, when I saw an unfamiliar commenter.

Round and about I discovered that the commenter is the author of a fascinating book blog, "The Booksmith: Mrs. Smith Reads Books." Insightful, informative, and interesting entries led to my rather long visit there. She is a resident of Capetown, in South Africa, which is an intriguing fact all on its own.

Enjoy!

Too Many Chunksters and The Alice Network

I've been wondering why my list of books read has not been growing, especially because I've been reading a great deal since the second week of June. What's going on?

Then I checked back. The books I've been reading, most of them, have been over 400 pages long. No wonder my progress has been so slow! My reading palette welcomes the reading of long books, but I like to have somewhat shorter reads in between the huge turkey-dinner-chunksters. It's getting to the point where a book of 300 pages seems a short read.

Oh, how I hated finishing P.D. James's Devices and Desires today. (423 pages). It was superb, but I always become so mournful at the end of her books because I can't bear leaving the experience of reading them and leaving the entire world that has been created. Crash and Boom. Deflating.

Started a new book to console myself. (Oh, yes, still avidly reading A Gentleman in Moscow and The Windfall (see previous posts for details.)

The recently published The Alice Network by Kate Quinn has received excellent reviews. It's set in France in 1947, but the novel flashes back to the all-woman spy network in France during World War I, known as the Alice Network. Yet the novel also deals with the disappearance of  a woman who was in the French resistance during World War II. I read the first several chapters this morning on my Kindle and wasn't convinced, but visiting all the reviews convinced me that I should continue reading. (It's over 500 pages--why did I have to choose this one now?) No matter, all will be fine, but I'm going to stack up a few somewhat shorter reads on my table.

Discovering The Windfall by Diksha Basu

This is an episode of "Too Many Books." I was on hold via Cloud Library at the New York Public Library for The Windfall by Diksha Basu, a woman who has been hailed as an "ex-Bollywood actress" turned writer.  It is the story of an ordinary middle-class East Delhi family, whose patriarch unexpectedly sells his website for untold riches after five years. As a result, he moves quickly to relocate his family from an apartment in a downward-turning middle-class apartment building to a wealthy area of Delhi. They now will have a two-story "bungalow," with a front yard and a backyard, a kitchen with every modern amenity, room for several servants, and plenty of space to garage a classy automobile. This is a class-move of tsunami proportions for the family, as Basu so humorously depicts in this novel. I've read the first few chapters and it's a charmer. Very different!

Just a few short chapters left in Devices and Desires by P.D. James. Such a master! She'll keep you guessing to the very end.

Continuing with A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles. Very good!

Time Out: Wimbledon Inspiration! Champagne, Anyone?

Not a bookish topic today. 
Wimbledon, or the All-England Club Championships is the absolute pinnacle of the tennis year. After watching the 12-month progression of the tennis year go by for many, many years, I feel strongly that all the champions who are lucky enough to play at Wimbledon manage to present their "A" game and do their ultimate utmost to win at Wimbledon, grasping for a level of play that is even higher than they play at any of the other three Grand Slams.

I think it's the all-grass surface that keeps every player on edge. The grass surface's relative unpredictability in the way of ball bounce (as compared to hard courts and clay courts) is what makes players reach and push forward their very best game. The necessity of being always on-alert and on-edge brings forth some of the most incredible tennis games and matches.

Victories are so much bigger, because the winner bested their opponent and THE GRASS.

The other great thing about Wimbledon is that there are always so many UPSETS and SURPRISES.

I am extremely eager to see Johanna Konta (from the UK) play in the semi-finals against Venus Williams. Konta has been playing brilliantly. What a match that will be on Thursday. Venus has come so far. At 37, she is playing as well as she has ever played, and with a tricky auto-immune disorder. Konta is such a likeable, strong player from the UK--I'm rooting for both of them.

Reading about Boris Pasternak and Lara

Postscript: July 13, 2017
It turns out that Anna Pasternak is the grand-daughter of Josephine, Boris Pasternak's youngest sister. I discovered this after listening to the first chapter of the book. The Wikipedia article was misleading in this regard. Yes, Lydia is the name of Anna Pasternak's mother, but she married into the Pasternak family. Sorry for the error!
Original Post:
I  have decided that I won't re-read Dr. Zhivago by Boris Pasternak this summer. It was on my mind, but I feel swamped by books. For one thing, I can't get over how many new books about Russia there are to read for the first time, let alone a second time.

I have started listening to an audiobook entitled  Lara: The Untold  Love Story and The Inspiration for Doctor Zhivago by Anna Pasternak.  Boris Pasternak was Anna Pasternak's uncle, and Anna is the daughter of Boris's youngest sister, Lydia. Anna is an academic in  the UK and published the book in 2016 or 2017. According to Anna, Lara was badmouthed by all the Pasternaks, which, according to Anna, was completely unwarranted.

Just a short post tonight.

Russia in Books: 1917 and 1922 (A Gentleman in Moscow)

I have but one chapter to go in Caught in the Revolution by Helen Rappaport. So interesting to read a collection of foreign observers' views of 1917 in Petrograd. I'll be sorry to finish this nonfiction book, and I'll be left wondering--what did foreign observers' see in 1918 and during the war between the Reds and the Whites? Makes me so curious.

So I ended up finally downloading the novel A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles, published last year to much acclaim. I've read only about four chapters so far, but I will say, as delightful a read as the novel is, and as droll a character the Count is while incarcerated at the Hotel Metropole in Moscow, I have no idea what the author is intending, which is very much okay, because I'm enjoying the ride. Though I do wonder.

By the way, In imperial  Russia, the title "Count" was not a title of long-inherited nobility. It was an inherited title, but the original "Counts" were those who had the honor bestowed upon them.

My biggest question, while I'm so enjoying the Count and the novel overall, is the research that the British writer Towles did before writing the novel. This particular Count Rostov did not try to escape as so many of the aristocracy did, but seems to have spent his time before his arrest in 1922, walking around "St. Petersburg" visiting the patisserie, his bank, etc., which would have been impossible in 1922. His dreams of the imperial city seem odd as does his Moscow hotel exile.

So all I can ask, "Is this a fantasy?" I think there are many fantastical elements in the book, absolutely. But it's so charming, so much fun, and the Count is a character with endless possibilities.

I hope to post again about this book. Have you read it? Please share your thoughts.

And yes, I'm still waist-deep in P.D. James's Devices and Desires. There is no way to tell who the killer is, though clues are dropped everywhere, adding to the conundrum. Challenging, exciting read.

A Long, Wildly Stormy Summer Saturday with Books

Note: Since the storms, internet has been spotty. Hence, the late posting of this entry.

Usually early July is sunny, very warm, and fairly pleasant, as long as it is not too humid. Saturday was a most extraordinary day for July. It was a day filled with wave after wave of the wildest thunderstorms and torrential rains lasting from 10:45 am until 6:30 pm, without much let-up. We did not lose power, but it was so dark that I lit candles. I had trouble reading at times, it was so dark, which made me turn to an audiobook by 2 pm. Going outside was out of the question, so Sasha and I hunkered down for the duration. It was spooky and kind of fun!  

It felt like a Sherlock Holmes kind of day, so I dived into my Annotated Sherlock Holmes, Volume 2, to read “The Empty House,” the first story in the collection The Return of Sherlock Holmes. As I discovered, over the decades there has been a great deal of “scholarly” speculation about this story, which begins with Sherlock Holmes returning from the dead after that fall into “the chasm.” Watson nearly faints when he sees his old friend Holmes again, which some scholars say would be extremely unlikely, given that Watson is a an experienced medical doctor and medical veteran of European wars, etc. I find lots of the annotations interesting, but sometimes I ignore them for the length of the story and then go back to  them and review the story as I do so. 

I felt like knitting in the afternoon and, because the internet was down all day, I had to listen to an audiobook downloaded years and years ago. (Oh, if only I had planned ahead for this weather!) You may cringe, but I was surprised that I listened for more than two hours to Danielle Steel’s The Ghost, and found it very interesting. A forty-year-old architect suffers the loss of his "perfect marriage" and flounders. He's transferred to the New York City firm of his company, discovers that they are passing off the same blueprints that he was creating 15 years ago for them, and takes a long leave of absence, landing by chance in Shelburne Falls, in north-central Massachusetts (a real town), near Deerfield. Of course he finds inspiration and hope there, and love, naturally. Perfect listening while knitting to humungous booms of thunder and flooding rains. I think I downloaded it at least 12 years ago. Something about it must have appealed to me in the description at the time.  I do know this: I do not have exemplary listening skills. I can listen to nonfiction, but fiction listening is difficult for me. However, I discovered twenty years ago that I can listen to Danielle Steel, because if my attention wanders, information will be repeated! 

I also spent time reading P.D. James’s Devices and Desires. I love the acute details of the landscape, the interiors of buildings and households, the characters. This book is so very rich in complexity—just what I love to read, but a book I could never, ever listen to.    

 

German Lit in Translation and Dark Nights!

It's so dark, so very dark, that it's creepy around here. I know it's just dense cloud cover and rain, but we have 3 hours of daylight left, and sun should be streaming through the kitchen window. I bought candles today to deal with our light deficiency. Actually, I do love the deep darkness of December and January. And that's what we're having right now. Just haul out the candles, pretend that it's winter, and all is well.

German literature in translation:
 I recently finished reading All for Nothing by Walter Kempowski, the acclaimed German writer, who came into his own in the 1960s and 1970s. This novel was published in Germany in 2005. It was translated and published in English in 2015 by Anthea Bell. The most puzzling question for me is how does this novel compare, or fit in with, the dozens of works Kempowski wrote before it? Very, very few of his works of fiction, prose, and drama have been published in English. How can one possibly make an assessment of All for Nothing, especially as a person who does not competently read German? And, why oh why, was this particular book cherry-picked to be translated into English, out of all the acclaimed books he has published??? I find these facts especially frustrating as a reader.

Having worked in publishing in one form or another for many years, I know a little bit about how this sort of thing works. A foreign book is chosen for translation because editors and publishers' marketing executives think that a given German title "will speak" to English-language audiences in English-speaking countries. And, what exactly, for example, did they think would make this an ideal title for English readers?

Unless an English-speaking reader also speaks German, one cannot assess how All for Nothing fits with the other titles Kempowski has published about the Nazi and post-Nazi eras.

All for Nothing is set in a dull hamlet in East Prussia in January 1945. The Russians have already invaded and torn apart a number of the largest East Prussian cities, killing and raping Germans, just as the Germans have killed and raped their countrymen during the German invasion of Russia.

But in this little enclave away in the country, a wealthy family hangs on in their magnificent estate. They have plentiful food, because of their livestock and crops from the previous season. The husband and owner is a high official in the Wehrmacht, stationed in "safety" somewhere in Italy. His wife and his son live with the husband's aunt, as well as with lots of Ukrainian and Polish servants in this protected place, which seems very distant from the final destruction of Germany that is ongoing around them. Things deteriorate slowly. The façade crumbles.

The most striking thing about this novel is the way in which no character cared for anyone else, except for the 12-year-old son Peter. We see him care for the people in his life--his tutor, his mother, his animals, the refugees who come through to stay for few days. Peter's mother, even though we have her point of view, she clearly cares nothing for him or anyone, nor does his aunt care, nor do the Ukrainian or Poles, or anyone he meets in flight, when the Russians are truly on their doorstep.

Again, I have to say, without access to Kempowski's other work, I'm lost. Yes, he's anti-the-Nazi generation to the core, and bitterly angry. He pounds down the carelessness and the folly of the self-serving Germans who were adults in the Nazi era, but so did other German writers. How are we to assess Kempowski??  

Yikes! Preparing Books and TV for Ken's Departure

Each summer Ken goes to visit the Maine island cottage, which his family has owned since the early 1900s. He usually stays a bit over a week with his favorite cousin. I have accompanied him over the years, but we have a beloved dog now, who is completely calm at home, but a crazy, nervous wreck on long car trips. (We just barely make it to vet appointments, which are an hour away from us.) We adopted our Sasha at age 3, and she unfortunately seems to have had some difficult experiences in her past, to put it mildly. Still, as long as she's in her home environment, she is as placid and happy as all get out.

Long intro, yes. Just found out Ken leaves Wednesday.
Time to stock in the books and television companionship. (We live in the boondocks, so virtual relationships are necessary.)

On Netflix: I will watch The Crown, for a second time, from start to finish. Six episodes, I think. One each night. Should take up most of the week. I thought that this series was very well done. As long as you can get used to Dr. Who as Prince Phillip, you're all set. I loved the first go-round and vowed to watch it again. At which moment, Ken said, "Why not while I'm in Maine?"   So here goes.

Books:
I think this is the perfect time to read Devices and Desires by P.D. James. So that's set in stone. I know I'm in for a treat there.

I am a devoted fan of Paul Auster. I found his latest book at the library--4321. It is 869 pages long, and it is 869 densely-packed pages. Very little leading between the lines, shallow margins, you name it. Not an easy read, by any means.
Premise: A male baby is born in 1947 in Newark, New Jersey (This is Auster's birth year and birthplace, by the way). The book then depicts four separate, very different life experiences for that baby boy.
I brought 4321 home to have a preliminary appointment with it, and to ask it, "Are you worthy of my time? Are you worthy of the books I won't be able to read because I'm reading you? I'm still adjudicating.

Next book before I even consider reading Auster:  The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy. I missed this one when it was published 20 or so years ago. Have you read it? What were your thoughts?

Russian Revolution Centenary--A Great Book Discovery

One of my reading adventures this week would not have happened without the New York Public Library. (That's the New York [City] Public Library.] Because I am a resident of New York State, I am permitted to have all the privileges of a New York Public Library Card Holder. In fact, I've had my NYPL library card for a number of years. Lots and lots of state funds support this library, so it's great that all New York State residents can take advantage.

I use Flipster often. Flipster at NYPL includes 114 popular magazines that can be read remotely. My favorite is Library Journal, because that's how I find out about lots of new books being published.

But my BIG discovery this week was CloudLibrary, an e-book and audiobook company owned by 3M, available through NYPL, which includes many, many downloadable e-books, both fiction and nonfiction. Their list is not dumb-downed--how wonderful!

This week I downloaded and have been reading a treasure of a book published for the Russian Revolution Centenary (1917). Caught in the Revolution: Petrograd, 1917—A World on the Edge by Helen Rappaport is an outstanding blow-by-blow description of all of the events of 1917 in St. Petersburg (named Petrograd in 1914, and Leningrad still later). Rappaport, the author of my much-enjoyed The Romanov Sisters, which I read in February, wrote this by uncovering and deeply ferreting out accounts by all the English, Scottish, American, and French diplomats, bankers, businessmen, medical specialists, and journalists living in St. Petersburg at  the time. The city was full of foreigners. And, until now, no one has collected their eyewitness accounts of Petrograd in 1917, from the February Revolution through the Bolshevik October Revolution.

The account is mesmerizing, and unfolds, in some ways like a novel, as the reader follows the key eyewitnesses' accounts of all that occurred. This book makes it abundantly clear that the so-called "February Revolution," was every bit as bloody and mutinous and out of control as the Bolshevik Revolution.  Hats off to Rappaport for writing this book, with such care to sources and such abundant research.

In Memoriam: Helen Dunmore (1952-2017)

Oh, it has been a dark day in my personal literary world. And, for many others' as well, I'm sure. I counted Helen Dunmore as one of my favorite contemporary authors. Her books have moved me deeply, deeply. Her death is tragic, because cancer robbed her of many more creative years. She was only 64. (Born December 12, 1952).

Just this past February I read her novel The Betrayal, which is set in the last 7 months of 1952, during the final months of Stalin's dictatorship, when no Russian could be certain that they were safe from exile and decades of imprisonment in Siberia. Her story of a family trying desperately to weather this storm and eke out some happy times was extremely moving.  Here is a link to my previous comments about this novel.

I thought that The Lie was an exceptionally well-done, very different, and provocative novel of a returning World War I veteran to Britain, though I quarreled with her about the ending.

I simply loved The Greatcoat, a novel that did not win any prizes as most of her novels did. It's a pastiche, really, a minor ghost story, and a major "sock in the ribs" for anyone, anywhere who has lived in a place or on a site where desperate history happened. It's not a long novel, but it's one that I will read again and again.

Summer Project: Painting Gardens and Garden Memoirs

Like the meteorologists in the Northeast, I consider June 1st (or Memorial Day) the beginning of true Summer, with a capital "S". Several weeks ago I became involved in what I now hope will be a deep, deep Summer Project.

My plan is to visit many gardens all over the Northeast (well, probably not Maine) and take many photographs and careful notes. I then hope to come home and paint gardens, in pastels, watercolor, and if I'm lucky, in oils. I may paint some in acrylic, but to tell the truth, acrylic paint and I do not work together harmoniously, although I have tried for so many years to make the relationship work out. Acrylics dry much, much too quickly for my eyes and brain, especially when I need  loads of time to think and consider what I'm doing.

I haven't been deep, deep into painting since the winter of 2010. So there's that hurdle to leap over.

Garden Books and Memoirs:
You're probably wondering how they fit into this picture. Right now I have collected such a cartload of these from lots of libraries. Several I own and a few have been recently purchased. Let me list some of the ones that I lose myself in for long stretches of time because of the incredible art and photography.

Painting the Modern Garden from Monet to Matisse. (Numerous authors.)
This huge book, which includes all the paintings from an exhibition that was shown in Cleveland, Ohio, and in London, is loaded with a wide variety of paintings from English, American, French, German, Scandinavian, and eastern European painters working between the late 19th century and the early 20th century. Also included are photographs of the gardens and painters, and stories of each garden and how they inspired individual painters.  I borrowed this one and then had to buy one for myself. It was a book I wouldn't be able to part with. Using coupons and gift cards, I only paid $18 including shipping for this remarkable $75 hardcover, very hefty book.

I then started searching for books written by people telling the stories of how they created their gardens. Quite a genre! What fun.

I first stumbled upon the several gardening books of Beverley Nichols (1898-1983). He wrote three about his gardens, and they remain the most popular of all his books to this day. They have been reprinted by Timber Press in Oregon. (Nichols also wrote novels, children's books, travel books, political books, and autobiographies, etc.)  So I found one of his gardening books in my network of libraries--Merry Hall.  Merry Hall, although supposedly not his first account of his gardening, was an account of his first total- renovation gardens. It has been beloved for generations for the author's humor. I hope to be reading it soon.

My coffee--table favorite of the moment is HighGrove: An English Country Garden, a book replete with the most eye-defying knock-out photographs of all of Prince Charles's gardens at High Grove. Visitors do go there--maybe someday I will make it when they're open. A section of the book is devoted to each month of the year. When I examine these photographs (some spread out over two very large pages), I can imagine that I am there.

My last garden book to talk about today is another coffee-table wonder--The Writer's Garden: How Gardens Inspired Our Best-Loved Authors by Jackie Bennett and photography by Richard Hanson. (2014--UK).

Writers and gardens. Artists and gardens. What is it about gardens that have inspired so much creativity and so supported the life force in each of us? That is my quest--to find out.

Just a Few Summer Reading Plans

I'll just start a list:
I'd like to finish reading John le Carre's memoir The Pigeon Tunnel, listening to it with a hard copy at my elbow. Essential, the hard copy.

Then I'd soon like to read his novel A Small Town in Germany, which I believe is his favorite, at least it seems to have been at the time he wrote his memoir. It involves the collision of the ex-Nazi regime left-over characters and the 1960s younger people coming into power. I have so very much more I want to say about le Carre, so stay tuned over the next couple of months.

I will read another P.D. James novel, which many consider her ultimate best, Devices and Desire. This was published in 1989, immediately before her "departure novel," Children of Men, which I've read and which was extraordinarily original and

I'm terribly unsure about the future of my Classics Club List right now. I read the list last week and not one of them seemed appealing. Not even one! That shocked me. Guess some mood elevation is in order. Coctails? Comedy? Trump does not help. To pull out of the Paris Climate Accord. How could anyone be cheerful, really? I want to know.

Down Time Weekend and Wieke Wang's Chemistry

It's been raining for 50 hours straight so far, but luckily it's been a steady light rain, which is soaking in to the ground. Thankful.
I'm not exactly sure how my reading weekend is shaping up at this moment on a Friday evening, but these are my clues:

I've been enjoying the extraordinarily spare writing style of Wieke Wang, whose debut novel Chemistry has been published this month. I have been drawn to this story of a young Chinese-American woman, who is convinced that the world of chemistry in the laboratory mandates her entire future. She struggles, then she fails abysmally and irrevocably, and--she moves on.

And  halfway through the book I'm fascinated to discover what she will do with her moving on. We've learned she is resilient, she is strong (though she's not convinced of that fact), and I just know (and I think the author wants you to know) that she will find her way, eventually, and with humor.

The prose is written totally in the most unusual sort of  present-tense and is undeniably awkward. But don't let that put you off.  I feel the main characters are like fish out of water with this verb tense, and I wonder if that is the author's intention. The verb tense is not comfortable, yet the novel is a quick read. The young woman narrator is  romantically involved with an All-American, red-headed, Pennsylvania-born only son of a perfect family--no conflicts, no problems--ha! Her family, on the other hand, is tortured, and she is the first-generation only child of Chinese-American parents who have struggled ceaselessly from their childhoods in China. Can her relationship be saved? And what will happen to their beloved goldendoodle if it is not?

So I'll be finishing this novel, and hopefully reading on in The Widow's House. I'm determined to finishing listening to Bruce Springsteen's awe-inspiring memoir Born to Run (while knitting). And I hope to continue John Le Carre's memoir The Pigeon Tunnel, which is so interesting, yet so deep and nuanced that I'm not sure I'm "catching" all he means me to catch.  Did you know that 85-year-old John Le Carre has a new George Smiley novel coming out this fall 2017?? If this memoir is any indication, his skills and mind are as sharp as ever.

Have a great weekend! I may well be posting before it is over.

May Jaunts and Carol Goodman's The Widow's House

Just a very brief post to say I'm still hanging in, despite the fact I haven't been reading a great deal or blogging as much as I'd very much like to do.

My plan is to have a very busy summer reading and blogging.  I've been really bogged down emotionally and it has been very hard to keep up. I don't understand really why this should be, but it must be part of the grieving process, and I hope that after my mom's memorial service, I'll truly begin anew. I guess I can say quite honestly that I can't wait.

I just had a wonderful visit from a friend who now lives in North Carolina. We hiked over 22 miles in four days, and lots of it on rough trails. I'll admit I'm exhausted, but it's a really good kind of tiredness. Beautiful, really cool spring weather, which means that the black flies were not a problem. Lucky us!

I am reading a gothic-style thriller set in upstate New York in the Hudson River Valley. Carol Goodman's The Widow's House has all the traits of gothic suspense, which makes it excellent fodder for my appetites. A married couple, in their mid-30s, moves to a gate-house kind of place on a Hudson River Valley estate. Jess, the husband, is working on his second novel and getting nowhere, really.  His wife, although she has considerable literary talents of her own, has always subsumed them in working to support her husband, doing editorial freelancing for New York City publishers. Then, just a bit at a time, she begins to boldly stretch her literary wings on this estate, no longer playing the self-abnegating helpmate to her husband. That's where I am right now. It is becoming clear that Jess cares only for the support his wife can provide, in the form of meals  and general  household support and literary cheerleader.. Naturally, there is a ghostly presence on the estate--just as one might expect. I'm  really enjoying it.  Carol Goodman  has written a number of gothicky novels set in upstate New York.  I read The Lake of the Dead Languages, which was set at a women's secondary school--private academy, and which was excellent.

Internet Lost! Back Now, and Audio Memoirs

Being without internet service for over a week was much more than Ken and I could tolerate without losing our patience. Fortunately we had satellite tv to keep us connected to the world.

It's twelve miles to the nearest café or pub providing internet service, and even these spots have multiple days they're not open each week, because it's the "off season." Our problem resulted from a brief thunder squall that moved through on May 1st. It was no big deal, really. Hard to fathom.

Thank goodness I had several audiobooks downloaded, and plenty of knitting to do. The weather has been abysmal. We've had snow, hail, downpours, steely rain, and the cold wet and rawness that penetrate all  clothing. The dog sticks her nose out the door and, supposedly intrepid retriever that she is, then looks at me as if to say, "Do we really have to go for a walk?"

As soon as we get a couple of warm days all the wildflowers will blossom and all the trees will leaf out, all at once. It will be a dizzying splendor, though truly I prefer a more gradual unfolding of spring.

I'm nearing the end of Born to Run, written and narrated by Bruce Springsteen, which has been a revelation, and I will hate to let it go. He lets the reader into his deepest soul, into the passions and demons that drive him, and I'm grateful for what he has shared. An amazing audio experience.

I'm now reading one book and listening to two other audiobooks. My auto audiobook is the memoir The Pigeon Tunnel by John Le Carre, author of The Spy Who Came in from the Cold and so many other novels of espionage. He, too, is the narrator of this memoir, and at 84 years of age, it is obvious that he is as sharper than any tack. His voice, and the nuanced reading of his memoir, is also extraordinary.  I highly recommend the audio performance--bravo!! Yet I find I wish I had a text copy to refer to, because at many points, he discusses complex events relating to the Cold War and his experience of it. I must admit that my listening skills are nowhere near the acuity of my reading skills. If I continue to listen to audiobooks, I think I'll develop keener listening, but right now I need a physical copy of The Pigeon Tunnel. Again, an absolutely extraordinary book! Springsteen and Le Carre are establishing a new standard for memoir.  

An Absurdly Long Interruption and Books

It may seem as though I've walked off the edge of the earth, but I am still in residence. I have been overwhelmed by home issues that have flared up and preparations for a major family reunion, which will take place following my mother's memorial service. It's hard for me to realize, but my brain has been so crammed with duties and errands that I've had nearly no space to reflect, to read, to be.

I have taken up knitting again, as a means to calm myself, and as I knit, I've taken to listening to audiobooks. Currently I'm listening to Born to Run, Bruce Springsteen's memoir, and it's a gem! Springsteen is the narrator, and I'm certain he wrote the book, though it's possible he had an editor help with structure. I can assure you there was no ghostwriter here!

Springsteen writes and narrates in the same passionate language as is present in the lyrics to his songs. His childhood is fascinating--as  the oldest grandchild, he lived with his grandparents until they were too old to cope, and only then did he move in with his parents, who lived a few blocks away. I'm less than halfway through, but his memoir also reveals the music scene of the early- to mid-1970s beautifully. I'm not yet beyond that era and am just now reading about the magic of the Born to Run album, an era that changed everything for Springsteen and his band who had labored so hard for years and years in the backwaters of New Jersey.

Have you ever wondered what life would be like living as a woman and a mother in a Hasidic Jewish community? This is the universe I discovered when I listened to Leah Lax's  Uncovered:How I Left Hasidic Life and Finally Came Home.

Hasids are ultra-orthodox or ultra-conservative, fundamentalist Jews. The largest community in the U.S. resides in Crown Heights in Brooklyn, New York. Other communities are scattered throughout a number of major U.S. cities, and although  the memoir did not discuss this, there are also communities in Europe. (Hasidic Judaism originated in eastern Europe early in the 20th century.) If you have ever read the best-selling classic novels The Chosen and The Promise by Chaim Potok, these novels portrayed conflicts in Hasidic life among young people raised in the culture, growing to maturity, then you are familiar with this way of life and religion.

Leah Lax was born into a Jewish family that did not practice the faith of their parents. They scarcely permitted themselves to ascribe to the views of  liberally-minded Reformed Jews. In the early 1970s Leah became extremely interested in conservative Judaism and sought out many opportunities to learn more about it and to practice her faith with other conservatively-minded Jews. Later, in college, she attended North Texas State University in Denton, which is where she really began to orient herself and commit herself to "God's Laws" as practiced by the Hasidic Community. At the age of 19, she agreed to an arranged marriage and began her life as a Hasidic wife, woman, and mother.

She portrays her life, her profound loneliness, the endless childbearing and housework, and, eventually, her realization as her seventh child grew up, that her soul and spirit were suffocating in this  life. 

A Brief Post: Whither Books? And Missing, Presumed

It is still wintry here, for which I am glad. I missed much of it in February, so March has given me a chance to catch up. Sasha and I have had some stellar snowshoe excursions. Not super-long ones, perhaps, but really fun.

My reading stalled at times this past month. I read over half of the Margaret Drabble novel Deep Flood Rises. It must go back to the library, because I have yet to finish it. I'm planning on buying my own copy in the immediate future. It is so good, and I feel as though as I want to start at page one and do it all over.

Most recently I've been reading Missing, Presumed by Sheila Steiner. It's an exciting police procedural set in Cambridgeshire. A very young ecological activist, Ellen Hind, goes missing--a woman whose father is a politically influential doctor. He has close friends who are tops in the British government. (Characterizations are a big plus here!) Manon, the primary investigator  interest in the novel is single, coming on forty too fast for her liking, and longing for a settled love relationship. This definitely adds lots of interest.  I'm just over halfway. I ordered it thru ILL because it had such good reviews, and I haven't been disappointed.

So what has made my reading collapse?
I am now full throttle in my political activism. I promised to myself that I would become politically active after November's election results. No, unfortunately, marching on Washington is beyond me at this point. So I've been concentrating my efforts, at least in part, on the Republican congresswoman in our district, Elise Stefanik, who is considered a moderate Republican. At age 32, she's just beginning her second term  in the House of Representatives. She is a hard worker, to her credit. But, as any junior member of Congress, she lacks direction and certitude. I'm hoping that other women members of Congress are mentoring her. Anyway,  I write a detailed letter to her on a timely topic, relating to upcoming legislations, that I've thoroughly researched once a week. I write many other letters, encouraging our New York State Senators, and to others on current topics in the legislature.

Time Warp: Crewel Embroidery and The Needle Arts

For the past few years, I've had a yearning to re-engage with crewel embroidery. Crewel work involves embroidering with woolen "thread" or "yarn," otherwise called "fibers."

Interestingly enough, crewel embroidery was extremely popular in the U.S. in the 1970s (and the 1980s)--in fact, it was a white-hot fad. Family Circle, Women's Day, Ladies' Home Journal, and Good Housekeeping  all vied to provide soup-to-nuts instruction for beginners and offer lovely designs as well. And  I can tell you that it was not just for older ladies, not at all! Women and girls of all ages were doing it.

At that time, my town had several stores that carried crewel embroidery materials and other embroidery necessities.  I know it may be hard to imagine today, but cross-stitch embroidery was not at all popular the way it has been since the early 1990s, except as one of many styles of stitchery in historic sampler embroidery. It was a very different time. I imagine working women today love the simplicity and relaxation of picking up a cross-stitch project for the evenings and weekends without having to worry about mastering numerous complicated embroidery stitches. I completely understand that, because as soon as I was working full-time, embroidery went out the window! During those years I was only into very simple patchwork quilting and knitting.

As a young woman in her very late teens and early twenties, I was fascinated by the challenges of embroidery and crewel work; and most of all, I was astonished by how beautifully lush the inter-weavings of multi-colored embroidery wools and polished cotton threads were when created into a landscape or a flowery still-life. I grabbed the women's magazines and crafted samplers and designs all over. At that time, it was a relief from the mindless jobs I had during the summers as an undergrad. Cross-stitch has never grabbed me personally, although I have lots of friends and relatives who craft beautiful projects in cross-stitch and counted cross-stitch.

For me, I have never forgotten how beautiful and personally satisfying crewel embroidery is, and it seems that now might be a time to explore it and perhaps re-engage.

When I went searching for books and websites and materials, I discovered that in the U.S. there are very few stores that carry anything at all in the way of crewel embroidery materials, or any that are willing to order from British suppliers. As far as I can tell, very, very few books have been published about crewel embroidery and needlepoint and embroidery since 2000-2004 in the U.S.

Crewel embroidery is much bigger in the UK (and I believe it's also bigger in Australia than the U.S.), although I imagine it may not be as popular in both the UK and Australia as it once was. Tapestry embroidery is possible to pursue in the UK, which sounds fascinating to me, although difficult to pursue here without importing everything you need. And, as Josephine, one of Margaret Drabble's characters in Dark Flood Rises comments, tapestry wool (and crewel wool) have become extremely expensive.) Ridiculously so, really.

I have discovered that some libraries have hung on to their old books on embroidery, needlework, and crewel work. I'm so grateful for that. Ebay and Etsy have old kits and books available. I purchased a wonderful crewel kit on Etsy--it's a kit from the 1970s, in beautiful condition, produced by Avon Products. So reasonably priced--I'm lucky indeed.

Do you engage in needlework of some sort? Please discuss it, and please let us know of the state of needlework in your country or your neck of the U.S.

Just a briefie: A Great Book and Weather Notes

A very peculiar weather situation for this second weekend in March. Yes, it's a "polar vortex," according to meteorologists. Or, as Ken would say, "According to the guys with the ouija boards."
We'll be going to two degrees below zero Fahrenheit tonight, and even colder tomorrow night.
Saturday we'll have a high temp of 10 degrees F with a wind-chill temperature of minus 21 degrees below zero F, due to the high winds. To go out, which I'd really like to do because I'm enamored of wintry extremes, I will need to vamoose out to our downhill trails quickly, where we'll be surrounded by hills that block the winds from the northwest. Sasha usually wants to cop out quickly in such weather, so I may not bring her with me. I'll do something of the ten-minute variety with her.

Margaret Drabble's Dark Flood Rises is incredibly good. (Gee, even I am beginning to speak like our dear Donald.) A brilliant combination of her sardonic wit, mingled with serious probings of the very mature adult situation, with a touch of her ribald tongue-in-cheek. I find myself reading along, hanging on every word, and then out of nowhere I'm laughing hysterically, because the situations of her characters and their responses to them are all so true. My shrieking then wakes up the dog so that she lifts her head, and gives me her "You're bothering me terribly" expression.

I had a wonderful trip to Crandall Library today. I hadn't been to "the city" for over six weeks, so it was a lovely treat to feed all my current fascinations.  Yikes! Dinner is up. I do hope that I can continue this thread tomorrow

Back on the Reading Train: Larsson, Godden, Drabble

I wasn't able to do any real book reading for about 5-6 days, other than magazines and the New York Times. But I'm back now, thank goodness.

As I searched all the bookcases and bookshelves throughout the entire house, the only book that demanded to be picked up was Stieg Larsson's The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest, the third book in the trilogy. Because it was about eight years ago that I read the second book, The Girl Who Played with Fire, I decided it would be helpful to read a synopsis of that one before conquering the third, just to get the characters and storyline straight. Wikipedia had a fine synopsis available, so I'm all set reading the third chapter of Hornet's Nest. It's a very hefty read, at about 537 pages, and I've got Margaret Drabble's latest to read, which must be returned on the 16th of March. So it looks as though I'll need to devote time to both.

But not all day! There was something about reading all day long that made me feel as though I didn't have a life. And that's really very, very strange, because it has never bothered me before when I've had personal read-on-and-on-and-on-athons. I'm wondering just perhaps if the aura of Barbara Pym's characters in Quartet in Autumn have been casting a spell upon me? I do think so. And yes, the review for this book is coming. I've been working on it, but am finding it hard to do it justice.

Today I was able to purchase another of my Classics Club books for a mere $2.99. It's Greengage Summer by the English novelist Rumer Godden. I hope to get going on this one soon as well. My original intention for the Classics Club was to buy paperback or hardcover copies of all my classic books read, but this Nook Edition was such a good price, I have made an exception.

February's Eight Reads, Barbara Pym, and On the Reading Horizon

I managed to read eight books in February, which I think is a record for me, though I'm not proud or happy about it, all because the stupid influenza visited us this year and is wholly responsible for the number of books read. Geez. What a way to ruin a nice wintry month.

The Betrayal by Helen Dunmore was the best book by far, Appelfeld's The Man Who Never Stopped Sleeping was equally stellar and will be forever memorable. Yaa Gyasi's Homegoing was another book that I would highly recommend and even might say should not be missed. (See the posts below for information about these books.)

Quartet in Autumn by Barbara Pym, which I read for The Classics Club, was both utterly fascinating and depressing, as well as being at times, extremely funny. It deserves its own post, which is forthcoming.

On the 27th of February, in utter desperation, I declared a reading moratorium.
I allowed the reading of magazines and the New York Times (Aw, shucks--Sorry, Donald!) and other online websites.
And now, on the evening of March 1st, I finally have a number of books lined up that I'm looking forward to tackling.

Barbara Pym does not seem to have had a biography written about her, I've found. (See below for my error, here.) Yet excerpts from her journals and letters were collected in a volume in the early 1980s, several years after her untimely death. After reading Quartet in Autumn, I'm extremely curious about Barbara Pym's life and her thoughts in general, so I'm waiting for the arrival of the out-of-print A Very Private Eye. And, wouldn't you know it, I've come across a biography this evening, although not available in any library here. It's Hazel Holt's A Lot to Ask: A Life of Barbara Pym (1990).

Margaret Drabble has a new novel. As some of you know, I am partial to her writing. Dark Flood Rises, published in the U.S. just this past month, is about a social worker, aged 76, whose job it is to drive all over England visiting residences for elderly people and analyze them for a huge report she is compiling. The conflict, naturally enough, is that the social worker is approximating and equal to the age of the residents. I'm dying to read this, knowing Drabble's  sharp,  devilish wit. Can't wait. I still have numerous novels of Drabble's  which I haven't read.  Need to get kicking.

Ali Smith is a Scottish writer whom I have never read. The first book in her new series of four novels has just been published here. Autumn is the title. She plans to write a novel for all four seasons. As one might expect, Autumn does include characters who are in the "autumn" of their lives. I have the chance to pick this one up and will let you know. Have you read Ali Smith?

Book Passion in Translation: Appelfeld and Petterson

I was absolutely unprepared for the Israeli author Aharon Appelfeld's novel published in the U.S. in January 2017. The Man Who Never Stopped Sleeping was, at first, inexplicably mesmerizing to me, and as I read on, it became a transformative reading adventure that spoke directly to my heart and soul.

Appelfeld's novels, of which there are many, are translated from the Hebrew into English.  Yet Hebrew is not Appelfeld's "mother tongue." He was born in 1932 in Bukovina, which is today part of Ukraine. After a horrific war, during which he was separated from his parents, he emigrated to Israel. German was his "mother tongue," and Hebrew is the language he adopted in his late teens, which he deliberately chose to write in, after much laborious work and study. This book is a work of art about how a young man, recently repatriated to Palestine, bears his crippling Palestinian War (1947-48) wounds to become enmeshed in the Hebrew language of the Bible, as a means to help him be a writer in Hebrew. Each character  in the book is without a family and is alone in Palestine. This novel is about how Erwin's deep sleeps reconnect him with the past and the strengths of his former family life and culture before the war, so that he can move forward to become a writer.
For those interested in this book, none of the horrors of the war years are revisited. The focus is solely on his travels to Palestine and his life there. In memory, he returns over and over to his pre-war life for sustenance and the will to claim his life as a writer. Extraordinary. I borrowed a library copy and must purchase it for my library--so many gems of wisdom.

Well, I certainly thought I was going to be able to write about the book I'm reading by my favorite contemporary writer of Norwegian fiction, Per Petterson. But, as it turns out, the beef stew is done, and I must move on to serve it. More soon!

News Before I Sign Off for the Holiday Weekend

Ken's cousins are due early tomorrow morning from coastal Maine for the long weekend. It's hard to explain this, but they sometimes arrive before we're awake. Ken's cousin Tom likes to get going by two am and head west, not wanting to waste any of his limited time off. (If they were to wait for morning to depart, the trip would be many hours longer on the slim, two-lane back highways of central New Hampshire and Vermont.)

We'll have a big breakfast after they arrive and catch up. No doubt we'll be talking about our President's so easily proven falsehoods uttered during his press conference today.

And speaking of catching up, I'm concerned that I'll be finishing Yaa Gyasi's Homegoing in the next day or so, without much time to note my thoughts. (I'll have to jot them down on the fly and save for later to post later.)

My new book is Israeli writer's Ahron Appelfeld's  The Man Who Never Stopped Sleeping, translated into English from Hebrew. I started this before bed last night and was so overwhelmed (in a positive way) by the first 30 pages that I nearly couldn't put it down. More to come on this reading adventure.

Tomorrow I need to sneak out of the house in the late morning to go to the post office to pick up my copy of the 2016 nonfiction title The Romanovs, 1613-1918 by Simon Montefiore. The Romanov Sisters barely whet my appetite for the hard-core history of this dynasty, and the history of the Russian Empire.

If I need a cozy read during the weekend, which is likely to happen if I become really tired, then I have M.M. Kaye's mystery Death In Zanzibar on my Nook. I need to check on the publication of this one, but I believe it was during the late 1950s or early 1960s. I'll check.

Currently Reading: Yaa Gyasi's Homegoing

I've been hell-bent, for weeks now, trying to get a hold of Yaa Gyasi's Homegoing, a novel published in 2016. Ghyasi was born in Ghana and immigrated to the U.S. with her parents when she was a child, to Huntsville, Alabama. This novel follows the descendants of a one African woman in the mid-1700s in Ghana, through many generations, through two separate lines of descendants. One lineage continues to reside in Ghana, both in the Asante and Fante tribes. This side of the family's story is fascinating, because it deals with all the ins and outs of the slave trade wars in Africa, and particularly the battles among tribes, each who vie to be the most prominent in providing slaves to the British, Dutch, and American slavers who transport slaves to the colonies. Gripping!

The other line of descendants follows those who have been transported to the U.S. and who struggle to keep their families together in slavery present on Southern plantations.

This is Ghyasi's debut novel, many years in the works, and she is an exceptional writer.

Books Are Getting Very Russian Around Here

My reading bed in the loft is covered with Russian history-related novels and nonfiction right now. After all, it is 2017 and the 100th anniversary of the Bolshevik Revolution.  Since age 14, I have been a Russian history and literature wonk. It all came about when on a dull, rainy Saturday in March, in my fifteenth year, my older brother took me to see David Lean's film Dr. Zhivago. My mind was blown away. After that, not only did I go out and buy a paperback copy of Boris Pasternak's masterpiece, I also became insatiably curious about Russian history from the Tsars through the Russian Revolution to the 1930s, a fascination that continues to this day. 

On the loft bed today I spent the day reading The Romanov Sisters by Helen Rappaport (2014), which I purchased, but which I never got around  to settling down with until now. So now I am deeply within. It is the history and biographies of the Grand Duchesses Olga, Tatiana, Maria, and Anastasia, the daughters of the Tsar Nicholas II and Tsarina Alexandra Feodorovna. Because Alix (Alexandra) was the grand-daughter of Queen Victoria, and the third-cousin of the Tsar Nicholas II, I find myself in dire need of a number of family trees. Relatives of the Grand Duchesses are frequently mentioned, but without a family tree map, I am a bit lost. Perhaps I'll search online. At 387 dense pages, with dozens of pages of footnotes, and an extraordinary bibliography (!), it will take me time to finish it, especially considering I have novels I'm choosing to read at the same time. 

I have nothing but accolades to lay upon Helen Dunmore's The Betrayal, which I described in a previous post.  I finished it this past weekend and I am amazed by this book. It is not only an extraordinarily well-written novel with fully developed characters, exquisite dialogue, and settings, but the history is absolutely true for 1952-53. How do I know? In my early teaching years, in my 20s, I spent a year teaching 5th grade reading and writing and social studies in a Boston-area Jewish K-8 school, housed in a synagogue, in which 25 percent of the students were Russian immigrants, knowing very little English.

I'd had a post-graduate year of college Russian, which helped, and I became very friendly with one family, who had a son in my class. Over the sharing of mutual dinners, picnics by the sea, and coastal hikes, I learned that Yuli (nickname for the Russian equivalent of Julian), my student's father, had witnessed both his father's and mother's arrests, in their home, in the middle of the night, in Moscow in late 1952, at a time when many professional Jews were rounded up and sent to Siberia to labor camps. Yuli was a very young teenager (12-13), suddenly left on his own, out-of-his-mind bewildered. Fortunately, after several days, friends of his parents came and took him in to their home. His parents eventually returned, a couple of years after  Stalin's death in 1953.  From all of his stories, and my reading,  I know that Dunmore's The Betrayal is accurate, painstakingly so, if you consider her bibliography and contacts and websites that informed the background of the novel.
All very interesting. Dunmore is truly one of my favorite authors.

So! Update! Just today, Carson, our UPS friend, got stuck on the ice in our driveway, yet delivered a very recently published novel Patriots by Sana Krasikov, who emigrated from the Soviet Union to the U.S. as a youngster and is now a writer living in Brooklyn with her husband and children.  This is "a sweeping, multi-generational saga" that begins in 1934 with the daughter of Russian Jewish immigrants living in Brooklyn, who returns to the Soviet Union, along with many other former immigrants to the U.S., because the Soviets have promised jobs and golden opportunities in their country. At this moment, I don't have the title of the work of history that details this reverse exodus during the Great Depression and its dreadful consequences. Due to the stellar reviews of this book, I snatched it up and have started reading it.