Sunday, February 27, 2011

Monday Reading Notes: Rebecca & Pirate Latitudes

Let me just say, Son13 and I are having a fun time reading Michael Crichton's Pirate Latitudes out loud to each other.

Who says you're ever too old to be read to?!

'Port Royal, in 1665, was a boomtown. In the decade since Cromwell's expedition had captured the island of Jamaica from the Spanish, Port Royal had grown from a miserable, deserted, disease ridden spit of sand into a miserable, overcrowded, cut-throat infested town of eight thousand.' pg10

'Of course, Sir James and his household attended services each Sunday, along with a few pious members of the community. But as often as not, the sermon was interrupted by the arrival of a drunken seaman, who disrupted proceedings with shouts and oaths and on one occasion with gunshots.' pg11


And for myself, I am totally engrossed in Daphne Du Maurier's Rebecca. Holy cow, the woman knows how to write! The atmosphere, the characters, everything. It is impossible to put down. Never having read any of her books before, I now know why she has such a devoted following.

'I had felt better when I had taken my hat off, and my wretched little fur, and thrown them both beside my gloves and my bag on to the window seat. It was a deep, comfortable room, with books lining the wall to the ceiling, the sort of room a man would move from never, did he live alone, solid chairs beside a great open fireplace, baskets for the two dogs in which I felt they never sat, for the hollows in the chairs had tell-tale marks. The long windows looked out upon the lawns, and beyond the lawns to the distant shimmer of the sea.' pg75

Saturday, February 26, 2011

Saturday Snapshot


Taken by son13 with my cell phone last summer while we were on the highway driving home. The combination of the dark evening clouds and the setting sun made this one of the brightest rainbows I've ever seen.

For more Saturday Snapshot contributions visit Alyce @ At Home With Books

Friday, February 25, 2011

Second hand books are wild books, homeless books; they have come together in vast flocks of variegated feather, and have a charm which the domesticated volumes of the library lack.
~Virginia Woolf

Organizing the Bookcase

A little something catchy and fun to finish the week.

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Better Than Life by Daniel Pennac

This is one of my regular and favorite rereads. I love the author's soft spoken passion and enthusiasm for reading books, any books, anytime, anywhere.

Stolen hours. The silent pleasure of reading. The refuge of books, a haven for our innermost selves. In Better Than Life, Daniel Pennac shares the secrets all book lovers know. (from the inside flap)

Time spent reading, like time spent loving, increases our lifetime. If we were to consider love from the point of view of a schedule, who would bother? Who among us has time to fall in love? Yet have you ever seen someone in love not take the time to love? I've never had the time to read. But no one has ever kept me from finishing a novel I loved. The issue is not whether or not I have the time to read (after all, no one will ever give me that time), but whether I will allow myself the joy of being a reader. pg146




The Reader's Bill of Rights
1.  The right to not read
2.  The right to skip pages
3.  The right to not finish
4.  The right to reread
5.  The right to read anything
6.  The right to escapism
7.  The right to read anywhere
8.  The right to browse
9.  The right to read out loud
10. The right to not defend your tastes

Daniel Pennac
Better Than Life

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

All morning I struggled with the sensation of stray wisps of one world seeping through the cracks of another. Do you know the feeling when you start reading a new book before the membrane of the last one has had time to close behind you? You leave the previous book with ideas and themes -- characters even -- caught in the fibers of your clothes, and when you open a new book, they are still with you.
Diane Setterfield The 13th Tale

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

For a reader, one of life's pleasures is the silence after the book.
~Daniel Pennac, Better Than Life

The Passage by Justin Cronin

So this book? I loved hated really really kind of liked it. It was okay except for the parts I hated, which were silly. When this author is good, he's really really good. Man, can he ever write some amazing, exciting, page-turning stuff. But then, holy crap, he gets into these wordy ruts where he just can't seem to let the characters be who they need to be without *explaiinniinng* their backgrounds and childhoods and family ties and OKAY! WE DON'T CARE! To say nothing of his affinity for poetic flourishes. But I already covered that particular headache a couple of days ago. Where were the editors for this tome and why was I not consulted?

First of all it's really two books in one. The first part is weirdly unrelated to the second part. In the first part, everybody dies. Well, sort of. The second part has a whole new cast of characters with a whole new storyline in a made-up world a hundred years in the future. There's the girl, Amy, who's introduced to us in the first part, and is supposed to save mankind, but only reappears halfway through the second part in a way that made it seem like the author had forgoten that this second story was bound between the same covers as the first story so he'd better bring back some of the original characters and storyline to at least give the illusion that the two stories are related. Make sense? Yeah, me neither. Weird.

Anywhoo.

There's the shear size of the book too. The author takes 759 pages to tell a 400, nay, 300 page story. I couldn't believe how many new characters and situations were introduced that did nothing but stall the story, and because it's set in an unrecognizable future, the possibilities for these tangents are endless . . .

But in all honesty, if I had known how science fiction-y this was I probably wouldn't have read it. I was under the impression that The Passage would be more like the action and science and mystery of the Michael Crichton/ Stephen King kind. And had the editors done some serious surgery, it would have been. There's a really cool story in there; you just have to carve away the filler to find it.

One of the best sentences ever?

'It was more than the simple absence of sound; it was the silence of something stopped.' pg511

Monday, February 21, 2011

Today is a holiday here in these parts. 'Family Day' it's called. But for me it may as well be called Finish-Reading-'The Passage'-For-Heaven's-Sake Day because, really, it's about 300 pages too long and I'm ready to be done.

Anyone see the movie 'Vicky Cristina Barcelona'? I'm having a Javier Bardem - Penelope Cruz type relationship with this book. One minute I'm loving the pants off the thing, and the next I'm screaming at it.

My full rant review *with spoilers* comes tomorrow.

Sunday, February 20, 2011

Books as Art


Yes, there are some books that really are this delicious. 

Off the top of my head, I'm thinking Jane Eyre, Dracula, Frankenstein, The Historian, Through Black Spruce, Three Day Road, The 13th Tale, A Moveable Feast, An Alchemy of Mind, Cherry, Too Close to the Falls, The Incident of the Dog in the Night Time, Better Than Life, To Kill a Mockingbird. . . .

Which ones am I still missing?

Saturday, February 19, 2011

Saturday Snapshot








These painted eagles were all over Vancouver and Victoria in 2009 as a BC Lions Society for Children with Disabilities fundraiser in celebration of the upcoming 2010 winter olympics. Each one was decorated by a different local artist and then auctioned off in the spring of 2010. The ones I took pictures of and liked the most were the Native art and nature themed ones, but there were many other themes as well: sports, industry, history, communications etc. 

These eagle sculptures were all just so beautiful.

Wow.

For more Saturday Snapshot contributions visit Alyce @ At Home With Books

Thursday, February 17, 2011

I would rather be poor in a cottage full of books than to be a king without the desire to read.
~Thomas Babington Macaulay











image credit

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Guilty Pleasures


A favorite books meme hosted by Sam @ Tiny Library

#4. Guilty pleasures.





I would have to say Dan Brown, Robin Cook, and Michael Crichton are my favorites for this category. Their books are exciting and fast paced with a decently cerebral angle. They don't spend endless pages on characters and backgrounds; they give you what you need to know and then drop you right into the middle of the action. I love that! I don't know if I have a favorite, though; they're all enjoyable in their own way.




Monday, February 14, 2011

Reading Notes: The Passage

200 pages in and, wow, it's exciting and unputdownable, a really good read in fact, but the author's prodigious use of similes and metaphors is giving me a rash. Why-oh-why do authors think these are so clever and helpful for their readers? Fancy comparisons just sound silly and end up deflating the tension of an otherwise cool story.


If I may . . .

"By nightfall they were fifty miles past Oklahoma City, hurtling west across the open prairie toward a wall of spring thunderheads ascending from the horizon like a bank of blooming flowers in a time-lapse video." pg117. Wait. Flowers? Just end the sentence at 'horizon' and I'm good. The description works as it is; it doesn't need any more explaining.

"Or perhaps it wasn't fear they were feeling, but mute incomprehension. As if they'd stepped into a movie, a movie that made so sense. pg 171. Okay, I *get* what 'mute incomprehension' means. The bit about 'a movie' is what makes no sense.

"Before Wolgast could answer there was a blinding flash of light, like a gigantic camera going off." pg 172. Gigantic camera?

Ehn, lame. I wouldn't say he overuses these comparisons -not like some other books I know- but they're frequent enough to make me cringe, which probably isn't the reaction he was aiming for. Other than that it's a fun read and I'm eager to keep going.

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Saturday Snapshot


Sept. 2009
This seagull stood on the seawall railing that surrounds Vancouver harbor waiting patiently, hopefully, for a donation of food. The trail around the harbor is always busy with walkers, joggers, cyclists and strollers so his chances were pretty good that he'd get something. When I passed by he kindly allowed me to take his picture so I agreed to give him a piece of my muffin. I guess you could say I was a 'gull-ible' tourist? *groan*

For more Saturday Snapshot contributions visit Alyce @ At Home With Books

Friday, February 11, 2011

When I compare
What I have lost with what I have gained,
What I have missed with what I have attained,
Little room do I find for pride


I am aware
How many days have been idly spent;
How like an arrow the good intent
Has fallen short or been turned aside.


But who shall dare
To measure loss and gain in this wise?
Defeat may be victory in disguise;
The lowest ebb is the turn of the tides.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Loss And Gain

Thursday, February 10, 2011

Islands in the Stream by Ernest Hemingway

And then there are the books that leave me scratching my head.

A couple of things: This book is mostly dialogue (I would hazard 80%?) which is like overhearing a conversation where you're not exactly sure what is going on so you have to listen really hard for clues to put the story together. There are a few pauses in the speaking when a couple of things get done, but then someone enters the scene and we get another 37 pages of conversation. Tiresome. And one of my pet peeves in a book is when, after initial introductions, we are forced to hear a character's FULL NAME every single time he's referred to, which is stupid -Hemingway loves using this word- and cumbersome. Why can't we be on a first-name basis as soon as possible? And Hemingway isn't the only author who does this, a certain Dan Brown (not quite the same literary caliber, I know) loves dragging out every character's full name at every opportunity too. Authors, please please stop doing this, it is most annoying.

So where does that leave me with Islands in the Stream? On the fence. I really should have applied my fifty-page rule, but alas. The only reason I stuck with it was because I read A Moveable Feast and fell in love with Papa, and, naturally, had to get my hands on everything with his name on it. Islands  turned up at the used book store for a couple of bucks, so . . . But the story? weighty and intense, which is fine as long as there is something -characters, scenery, fabulous writing, hope, etc- in there to make me want to keep reading. So I held out for the dialogue-free parts which were really good -very evocative, sometimes tender, occasionally funny- read to the end, and called it done.


Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Favorite Books

Favorite books meme hosted by Sam @ Tiny Library

#3. Favorite book set in a different country.

Ha! That's easy . . .





The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova. Apart from this being an intriguing, creepy, mysterious book, it was filled with the sites and sounds of eastern Europe. The author takes the reader through big cities, towns and villages, through the countryside and into the homes of the local people. We are invited to sit at the table while they dine on sumptuous exotic dishes and listen in on their conversations as the characters uncover the history and lore of the area.

What a cool book. I'd like to travel to these places someday so that I can see them for myself.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Beautiful Book Art


20,000 Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne (Feb 8, 1828 - Mar 24, 1905) 
Happy Birthday Mr. Verne

Book Rescue

I love ratty old paperbacks like this one. Isn't it beautiful? It was on the counter at my favorite used book store waiting to be tossed into the trash *gasp* when all it really needed was a bit of glue and some tape. The proprietor saw me fondling it and said I could go ahead and take it if I wanted. So I cradled it all the way home and nursed back into reading shape. Hopefully it's not missing any pages . . . ?

Monday, February 7, 2011

The Page 99 Test

Further to yesterday's post, I came across this blog and this blog that  declare one can more accurately glean the gist of a new book by opening to page 69 or page 99 and reading that page rather than reading the inside flap and back-cover publisher hype.

Hmm, they could be on to something. I'll have to give that a try next time I'm at the bookstore or library.

"Open the book to page ninety-nine and read, and the quality of the whole will be revealed to you." ~Ford Madox Ford

Sunday, February 6, 2011

The Rule of Fifty


Ha! I knew someone would back me on this. I have forever maintained that if a book isn't working for me by page fifty then it's a goner. No guilt. No regrets. Life, really, is just too short to be wasting my cranial power trying to figure out bad prose, uninspired scenes, and witless characters. This article even goes on to suggest that after one reaches the age of 50 one is invited to subtract their age from 100 and use that number as the number of pages after which one is allowed to quit a book. So someone at age 63, say, can give a book 37 pages before deciding if it's worth sticking with or not, and so on. And if you reach 100 years of age? Well then, by golly, you have earned the right to tell a book by its cover. 

Saturday, February 5, 2011

Saturday Snapshot


I don't have much of a green thumb, but this orchid has blessed me with a twice yearly bloom for the past four years. It's in a bright south facing room and I water it . . . whenever, which is to say I soak it and then neglect it, soak it and then neglect it. Huh, who knew it would be so forgiving?

For more Saturday Snapshot contributions visit Alyce @ At Home With Books

Thursday, February 3, 2011

A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway

Gosh, I loved this book.

I had no idea Ernest Hemingway was such a witty, sensitive, observant guy. A Moveable Feast is a collection of short vignettes from his early writing life in Paris in the 1920s. His love for the city, his wife, and all his quirky friends is evident on every page. His writing is nothing short of fabulous. He does away with unnecessary commas and just lets a sentence go until he runs out of breath, or the thought is finished, whichever comes first. I love that! It's more natural, I think, more like the way our inner thoughts work. I also love how he uses 'you' instead of 'I' in many cases, making his observations more universal and accessible (recognizable, perhaps?) to the reader instead of making this just his own personal story. These stories come from a place of youthful wonderment and energy . . . and folly.



"All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know. So finally I would write one true sentence, and then go on from there. It was easy then because there was always one true sentence that you knew or had seen or had heard someone say." pg22

"In those days there was no money to buy books. Books you borrowed from the rental library and bookstore of Sylvia Beach at 12 rue de l'Odéon. On a cold windswept street, this was a lovely, warm, cheerful place with a big stove in winter, tables and shelves of books, new books in the window, and photographs on the wall of writers both dead and living." pg 31

"In the spring mornings I would work early while my wife still slept. The windows were open wide and the cobbles of the street were drying after the rain. The sun was drying the wet faces of the houses that faced the window. The shops were still shuttered. The goatherd came up the street blowing his pipes and a woman who lived on the floor above us came out onto the sidewalk with a big pot. The goatherd chose one of the heavy-bagged, black milk-goats and milked her into the pot while his dog pushed the others onto the sidewalk. The goats looked around, turning their necks like sight-seers. The goatherd took the money from the woman and thanked her and went on up the street piping and the dog herded goats on ahead, their horns bobbing. I went back to writing and the woman came up the stairs with the goat milk. She wore her felt-soled cleaning shoes and I only heard her breathing as she stopped on the stairs outside out door and then the shutting of her door. She was the only customer for goat milk in our building." pg 41

"I kept my mouth shut about things I did not like. If a man liked his friends' painting or writing, I thought it was probably like those people who liked their families, and it was not polite to criticize them. pg 88

"In writing there are many secrets too. Nothing is ever lost no matter how it seems at the time and what is left out will always show and make the strength of what is left in." pg 222
When I read a book I seem to read it with my eyes only, but now and then I come across a passage, perhaps only a phrase, which has meaning for me, and it becomes a part of me.
~W. Somerset Maugham