As promised, I’m combining my recommendations from the last two months. (Yes, I know; you’ve all been on pins and needles.) I’ve been a bit squeezed for time, and so my usual pace is a touch off. For example, I haven’t seen a single movie! At. ALL. Which is just . . . wrong.
There is one saving grace to a lot of air travel, though: you read a bunch, especially when your flight’s been delayed or you’re sitting on a tarmac for several hours because of the monsoon that’s suddenly begun or the lightening. So I plowed through a fair amount–and I have to say that certain airport storefronts, such as those from fabulous indie booksellers like Barbara’s Bookstore and Simply Books, saved me from gnawing my nails to nubbins. So did the FANTASTICALLY AWESOME Flyleaf Books in Chapel Hill that I had to a chance to duck into after a wonderful breakfast with the staff at a small eaterie next door (herb biscuits to die for). I bought a TON of books–even after I’d broken down and gotten myself a Kindle just before jetting off, loading that sucker with five out-of-print books I just had to read. Now, I’ve had a Sony PRS 505 for years and years, but the battery is finally starting to go and then it was a choice between my phone’s teeny-tiny screen or a new e-ink reader. I won’t say that the Kindle has been AMAZING. It’s no more or less amazing than the Sony, but it is convenient when traveling and I love being able to access public domain books from Google, Gutenberg and all that. (Yes, I could do it with my Sony, too, but the process was a bit torturous and the Sony is slower, a little clunkier.) So I brought along a fair amount of reading on the reader–but STILL opted for physical books when I saw them. Guys, there’s nothing like a book. A real, tangible, physical book. There’s nothing like a really good and inviting bookstore with a knowledgeable and enthusiastic staff. (Sarah, at Flyleaf, recommended just the BEST BOOK after I asked about something completely different. Said I’d love it. And–damn–she was right. I gobbled that sucker in four, five hours and have since passed on the love to another reader who is also enthralled–and that’s because GOOD booksellers KNOW THEIR BOOKS!! KNOW VARIETY!! UNDERSTAND WHAT IT IS TO READ!!)
So bookstores rule. Period. End of story.
Okay, give me a sec to climb down from my soapbox; honestly, the next thing you know, I’ll be standing in Speaker’s Corner and mouthing off.
As for traveling and working, it’s clear that I need to go back and review Kris Rusch’s advice; she has this stuff–and so much more–down to an art.
At any rate, without further ado:
READS
Arnold, Catherine; Bedlam: London and Its Mad (Simon & Schuster UK, 2010). If this painting by William Hogarth is your idea of Bethlem Hospital
you’re not alone. Having trained in an asylum with a long and illustrious history (even Dickens visited Hartford’s Retreat–founded in 1822 and now The Institute of Living–during his first American tour and public access to mental institutions was common practice in the UK), I’ve always been interested in learning more about (the often notorious) Bethlem Royal Hospital. Its location has changed several times over, and the building Victoria would’ve known is now the Imperial War Museum which I’ve visited. Arnold’s book is a fascinating look at the hospital’s history, whose development mirrors changing conceptions, both legal and medical, on mental illness.
Brox, Jane; Brilliant: The Evolution of Artificial Light (Mariner Books; 2011). This is the book Flyleaf’s Sarah suggested. It would NEVER have occurred to me to pick this up, but am I glad I did. Have you ever noticed how PANICKED people get when the lights go out? Brox has, and her points about how darkness was not as feared way back as it is now as well as concerns about the centralization of both the delivery of fuel (think gas works or electrical grids) and the loss of autonomy when such fuels were no longer available (or the delivery interrupted) was just fascinating. Light, as it happens, was for the wealthy because only the very wealthy could afford the high cost of good candles, the best whale oil, etc. Brox’s writing is both lyrical and incisive, and her concerns about how the ready availability of light has removed us from the natural world are spot on. There are several wonderful anecdotes here, but my favorite is centers on 1994’s Northridge Earthquake outside LA. Emergency lines were flooded with calls about a bizarre, glittery cloud splashed across the night sky. And what was it? The Milky Way. Stories like that give you pause.
Connors, Philip; Fire Season: Field Notes from a Wilderness Lookout (Ecco; 2011). Jack Kerouac was so desperate for cigarettes that he smoked coffee grounds. Norman Maclean revelled in and wrote about the experience. Edward Abbey’s 1971 novel, Black Sun, is based on his stints as a fire lookout. Now Philip Connors, who’s spent the last eight years perched in the Gila Wilderness of New Mexico, has produced this book filled with his reflections as well as smatterings of history, biology and field notes. It’s a short book, and some is quite redundant; other chapters read a bit like afterthoughts, something to beef up the narrative. Nonetheless, if you want a glimpse into a solitary occupation and lifestyle that is rapidly being lost to technology, this is a nice place to start.
King, A.S.; Please Ignore Vera Dietz (Knopf Books for Young Readers; 2010). I never would’ve picked this up save that it was up for the Edgar. This is a quirky, sometimes too cute but ultimately very interesting, fun and fine book that is only one part mystery and three parts character study. Vera’s best friend, Charlie, has died under tragic circumstances, and only 17-year-old Vera knows the truth of what happened that night. While that’s the crux of the mystery, that’s not what will keep you turning pages. King’s style is breezy; Vera’s voice, ironic and full of both self-deprecating humor and loathing. There are some asides–the snarky ones from the Pagoda, for example–that feel unnecessary and Charlie’s ghost pops up now and again to voice its opinion. But these little surprises are also what gives King’s book its style and freshness.
Summers, Courtney; Fall for Anything (St. Martin’s Griffin; 2010). It must’ve been my month for grieving teens. In this novel, Eddie Reeves is mourning the sudden suicide of her photographer dad. The absence of a note or any explanation are only a few of the roadblocks in Eddie’s way to “getting over” her father’s death. When one of her father’s students enters the picture, the narrative takes a disturbing turn in this devastating exploration of grief and despair: when, sometimes, the only answer one will ever know is silence.
LISTENS
King, Stephen; Hearts in Atlantis (narrated by William Hurt and Stephen King; Simon and Schuster Audio, 2001). I admit it: I’ve listened to the first story in this very strange novel several times over. I will also admit that I have never listened to the novel all the way through, which is odd for me because King is a master storyteller even if the stories aren’t always my cuppa. But I think I’ve been so captivated by the first tale–a novel in its own right, really–that I can’t get past Hurt’s expert narration of a story about young Bobby Garfield’s friendship with and love for the much older, very mysterious Ted Brautigan. Hurt’s reading is just that good, and I am in tears every single time I listen. If only I could figure out how to write half that well.
Simmons, Dan; Drood (narrated by Simon Prebble; Hatchett Audio, 2009). Okay, I’ll admit it: I bought this doorstop of a novel when it first came out and just couldn’t get into it. This was surprising, especially since I think Simmons’ A Winter Haunting is a masterpiece and one I’ve read several times. On the other hand, I couldn’t get into The Terror either. Still, I’m a Dickens fan of longstanding; I remember how upset I was when I realized that Dicken’s unfinished The Mystery of Edwin Drood was the last book of his I would ever read! So when I saw that Simmons was tackling a fascinating period in Dickens’ life–from the Staplehurt accident in 1865 to his death in 1870–I just couldn’t resist, doorstop or not. Why? Because Dickens was clearly profoundly affected by the accident; only his carriage was spared, and Dickens suffered from what we’d recognize as PTSD for the rest of his life. Dickens had other problems during this time, too, not the least of which was the continuing stress following the dissolution of his marriage and his affair with the much-younger actress, Ellen Tiernan, with whom he’d been traveling at the time of the accident. His writing took a hit, too; after he completed work on Our Mutual Friend, he simply stopped penning novels, devoting himself instead to an intense series of readings in the U.S. and Great Britain. The toll this took on Dickens is well-documented not only in the more well-known biographies but also in George Dolby’s account of these reading tours in Charles Dickens As I Knew Him: The Story of the Reading Tours in Great Britain and America, 1866-1870 . Dolby was Dickens’ manager and this loyal friend’s insights and descriptions are worth the read.
Simmons’ conceit is “novel,” too: a narrative told from the perspective of William Wilke Collins (author of such classics as The Moonstone and The Woman in White). Collins was a close friend and Dickens’ collaborator for many years as well as a highly successful author in his own right. Collins was also a laudunum addict, and that gives a reader pause–because you simply don’t know what or who to believe.
Still . . . I just couldn’t get into it, and I think it’s for the same reasons that this abridged listen works for me: there’s just so much detail–much of it true, by the way–that this reads as well as almost any Dickens biography covering the same time period. While there are a few odd transitions that could’ve used smoothing over, this listen made me eager to try and tackle the book next. Again. When I have time 😉 Seriously, this is a fine performance and Simmons’ Collins is every bit a modern man.
LOOKS
None. Nada. Zilch. No time and the weather’s been nice enough that I’m not looking at DVDs much at the moment.
Which is sacrilegious. I got to get out more often. This month, for sure.
