Tonight at dinner, the girl started talking about the Jewish temple that is close to the wife's work:
"I liked it on Saturday when we saw those people going to church, dressed all fancy and old..."
She then tried to describe what they were wearing. "He was wearing a. . . a turbine?"
"A turban?" asked my wife. "Do you mean a yarmulke?"
"A yarmonica?" asked the girl.
The boy tried to help.
"Oh! Some monkeys wear that!"
"A fez?" I asked. "It wasn't a fez."
"Yeah," he said, "a fez."
So, thanks to the Google machine, we were able to look up some images of various versions of traditional Jewish clothing to see the various types of head gear that the girl might have seen on the way to the synagogue.
I guess we need to get out more.
Monday, May 21, 2012
Eclipse (this is not about the Twilight series. Sorry, Ty.)
I lucked out ("You LUCK!") this past week and got a couple pairs of free eclipse-viewing glasses at school from one of the science teachers. This is one of the advantages of working at a school. I will get back to you with the other advantages at another time. We happened to be having family dinner at the wife's parents' place on Sunday, which gave us a relatively unobscured (which the editor is telling me is not a word) view of the valley. Having never shot a solar eclipse before, I learned a few things:
1. This would probably work better with some sort of filter.
2. It is difficult to see through a camera's viewfinder with eclipse-viewing glasses.
3. Because it is difficult to see, it is difficult to know where, exactly, the solar eclipse is in the frame.
4. Shooting directly into the sun is a good way to find out where you have dust on your camera's sensor.
5. It would be pretty cool to have a fancy telescope and the ability to attach a camera.
6. Sharing eclipse-viewing glasses with a wide range of in-laws, nieces and nephews and my own children at dinner time means that someone, sometime, is going to get jelly on said glasses.
7. The wife's brother knows how to make a camera obscura.
Here are the pictures:
We did not get the full ring of fire (sorry, Johnny Cash), but it just scraped across the top of the sun (scraped, as in "moved in front of, roughly 100 million miles away"). It was still really cool. The last shot is the eclipse-shaped shadows cast by the tree in my mother-in-law's front yard. I liked the flares that my lens captured--what I was seeing through the glasses was always different than how it came out in the photos--I don't know if that was because I needed a filter or what. Probably.
1. This would probably work better with some sort of filter.
2. It is difficult to see through a camera's viewfinder with eclipse-viewing glasses.
3. Because it is difficult to see, it is difficult to know where, exactly, the solar eclipse is in the frame.
4. Shooting directly into the sun is a good way to find out where you have dust on your camera's sensor.
5. It would be pretty cool to have a fancy telescope and the ability to attach a camera.
6. Sharing eclipse-viewing glasses with a wide range of in-laws, nieces and nephews and my own children at dinner time means that someone, sometime, is going to get jelly on said glasses.
7. The wife's brother knows how to make a camera obscura.
Here are the pictures:
Thursday, March 29, 2012
First Pinewood Derby.
I don't know if I've processed all of this yet--we spent the first few days of this week frantically working on the boy's Pinewood derby car. We got advice from my brother-in-law, who has lots of experience in this department; my wife's family has a long tradition of being obsessive about Pinewood derby excellence (and victories). We had to get the winning tips. We got lots. Overwhelming lots--like how to sand down the axles, how to properly weight the car (closest to the back axle, as close to five ounces as possible), how to spread out the wheel base, etc.
So we went to it. We used my brother-in-law's scroll saw to make the initial shape, which turned out to be more difficult than I imagined. Then we used the giant belt sander, which fixed up some of our uglier cuts. We bought about $25 worth of extra stuff to modify our free car. We stayed up late Monday, Tuesday, and desperately worked on Wednesday up until the last possible minute before painting so it could dry before we had to put the wheels on. We carefully monitored our progress on the kitchen scale, epoxied weights into the body, and then freaked out when the wood split minutely when we put the wheels on. It looked pretty good for how inexperienced we were. My hope was that my boy would feel a part of the process, and that it wouldn't turn into a competition with the other dads, who, without really lifting a finger, are probably much more technically adept with tools. I think he enjoyed it.
We arrived, only to find out that my kitchen scale (not digital) lied to me. By about an ounce. Which, in Pinewood Derby terms, is a LOT (if you were paying attention above, it amounts to one-fifth the the TOTAL weight). Thankfully, someone had brought a drill, and we mangled the bottom and pulled out some of our epoxied-in weights (after five or so unsuccessful attempts). We were the last to check in our car.
This is really turning out longer than I thought it would. I'll be brief (I should have said that sooner). They had a round-robin system of sorts. They raced each car three times, rotating it in against two others, and moving it across the track so it tried each of three different lanes. They had the track all rigged up to electric sensors--the results for the fastest cars at the end went out to the fourth decimal point. They were serious. Of course, it actually came down to those last two decimal points between the two fastest cars.
The boy's car came in second in its first race, then first for the next two. The boy was ecstatic. It also won the first prize (everybody won a prize) for "Most Mysterious". Other than the last minute mangling and adjustment, a pleasant night was had by all. Now for the pictures.
So we went to it. We used my brother-in-law's scroll saw to make the initial shape, which turned out to be more difficult than I imagined. Then we used the giant belt sander, which fixed up some of our uglier cuts. We bought about $25 worth of extra stuff to modify our free car. We stayed up late Monday, Tuesday, and desperately worked on Wednesday up until the last possible minute before painting so it could dry before we had to put the wheels on. We carefully monitored our progress on the kitchen scale, epoxied weights into the body, and then freaked out when the wood split minutely when we put the wheels on. It looked pretty good for how inexperienced we were. My hope was that my boy would feel a part of the process, and that it wouldn't turn into a competition with the other dads, who, without really lifting a finger, are probably much more technically adept with tools. I think he enjoyed it.
We arrived, only to find out that my kitchen scale (not digital) lied to me. By about an ounce. Which, in Pinewood Derby terms, is a LOT (if you were paying attention above, it amounts to one-fifth the the TOTAL weight). Thankfully, someone had brought a drill, and we mangled the bottom and pulled out some of our epoxied-in weights (after five or so unsuccessful attempts). We were the last to check in our car.
This is really turning out longer than I thought it would. I'll be brief (I should have said that sooner). They had a round-robin system of sorts. They raced each car three times, rotating it in against two others, and moving it across the track so it tried each of three different lanes. They had the track all rigged up to electric sensors--the results for the fastest cars at the end went out to the fourth decimal point. They were serious. Of course, it actually came down to those last two decimal points between the two fastest cars.
The boy's car came in second in its first race, then first for the next two. The boy was ecstatic. It also won the first prize (everybody won a prize) for "Most Mysterious". Other than the last minute mangling and adjustment, a pleasant night was had by all. Now for the pictures.
He wanted to call it "The Black Cheetah". We called it "La Pantera Negra".
Practicing the "I am the CHAMPION!" pose.
Crappy action shot.
Crappy victory shot--but it catches his absolute ecstasy.
Danish Bakery in Henderson
We had heard rumors, but hesitated to think it might actually be true (you know, you'd hate to show up and have it be terribly, terribly disappointing). Yes, there is an actual Danish bakery located in Henderson, Nevada. And, if you happen to show up on the first Saturday of the month, there are generally a number of actual Danes who show up as well. We met a couple and I spoke whatever Danish I could remember--I seemed to do okay (in the interest of full disclosure, the Danes I met there had both lived in the U.S. for 20+ years, so their Danish was a little rusty, too).
Here's the visual proof:
It was delicious. We have been twice now, and both times they appeared to be relatively busy (we accidentally showed up during the St. Patrick's Day parade--not for the parade, but for the pastry. The pastry was, naturally, better than the parade). I talked with Flemming for a couple of minutes--super nice guy--comes from Frederecia, if I remember correctly, and has lived here for a number of years. He taught pastry making at a culinary school in Vegas for a time and then opened his bakery. He also mentioned there was another transplanted Dane who worked in the bakery at a nearby Albertson's. We didn't go there to check it out.
So--if you're in Vegas on business or for pleasure, make sure you stop by and support your local Dansk bageri.
Here's the visual proof:
This is a good sign (pun intended) that they are serious.
Genuine mini-flags. And genuine Danish on some of the products.
It was delicious. We have been twice now, and both times they appeared to be relatively busy (we accidentally showed up during the St. Patrick's Day parade--not for the parade, but for the pastry. The pastry was, naturally, better than the parade). I talked with Flemming for a couple of minutes--super nice guy--comes from Frederecia, if I remember correctly, and has lived here for a number of years. He taught pastry making at a culinary school in Vegas for a time and then opened his bakery. He also mentioned there was another transplanted Dane who worked in the bakery at a nearby Albertson's. We didn't go there to check it out.
So--if you're in Vegas on business or for pleasure, make sure you stop by and support your local Dansk bageri.
Friday, January 6, 2012
"Quarterly" reading report for the year 2011
As mentioned in the previous post, apparently doing things on a regular basis (posting, exercising, going to the doctor) is not my thing. My intentions to post my readings on a quarterly basis was once again thwarted, most likely by myself. So, even though I just said I'm not very regular (not like THAT), this post will be regular in its irregularity, if you get what I mean (i.e., it was supposed to be quarterly, but it obviously isn't; however, it has proven to be annual).
I'll shut up now and tell you about my books.
I meant to make a more permanent mental note about the first couple of books I read this year, and now that I go to type this, I may or may not be historically accurate. I'll do my best.
Slaughter-house Five by Kurt Vonnegut. *Interesting note: I read this book entirely in waiting rooms while going through physical therapy for my dislocated shoulder early last year (we didn't celebrate a few days ago). This wasn't my first time reading the book, but it was the first Vonnegut book I read--I came back to it again because while I enjoyed it somewhat the first time around, I figured I'd like it even more coming back to it after having read a number of his other works. The book is Vonnegut's attempt to make sense of the firebombing of Dresden during WWII; the title refers to the underground meat locker where the author (and the main, time-traveling protagonist, Billy Pilgrim) survive the destruction of that event. The novel is crazy, jumpy, funny, crass, thought-provoking, and just plain good. So it goes.
Little Bee by Chris Clive. *Interesting note: I read this book (almost? Or maybe) entirely in fast food restaurants. I was finishing up my grading for the semester, which included a whole bunch of terrible senior essays (which are also the reason for me deciding to work on posting my reading list tonight), and when I needed a break from all that excitement, I went to get fat and read this book. The back cover is kind of annoying in telling readers to spread the word about the book, but not to reveal what it's about. Hogwash. Okay, I'll tell you a tiny bit. It's about a Nigerian immigrant girl who comes to Britain, then simultaneously tells the backstory and the story, alternating narration between the immigrant girl ("Little Bee") and the couple she knows in Britain via a dramatic, horrifying incident from a year or so previous (in Nigeria, if you must know. Okay, I've told you enough already). Dramatic, horrifying incidents continue to happen, but I was engaged, enthralled, enticed, and en-something else. Made me think about immigration issues in our country, in Denmark, and in England.
One Big Damn Puzzler by John Harding. Also read in great chunks at physical therapy. A story about a tropical island with an indigenous tribe who have suffered from the effects of leftover landmines from WWII. The main character comes to represent the people in a class-action lawsuit against the American government for the loss of their limbs. The people aren't really interested in money. The main character meets a female researcher living on the island who documents the inhabitants' mode of living. Occasional research-type texts are scattered throughout the story, detailing everything from their religion to their mating rituals. The author made up the people, and, rather than imitate another type of pidgin English, he made up his own. The title comes from the chief of the island; he's translating "Hamlet" into the island's pidgin, and the language only has a present tense. Hamlet's famous speech goes something like this: "Is am be or is am not be. Is be one big damn puzzler." Eventually, the lawyer wins for the people, who sell out their island paradise for American government money, with, of course, disastrous consequences. I loved the characterization in this book, and I actually got a little teary-eyed at one particularly poignant moment during the performance of the chief's Hamlet. And I don't get teary-eyed often. I really enjoyed this book, but it may not be for sensitive readers who don't want to read about mating rituals of native peoples. It was light-hearted, generally funny, and picked up on a whim, so even better! (I tried to read more contemporary British novels this year so I can recommend them to my classes. I made it through a few.)
The Year 1000: What Life was Like at the Turn of the First Millenium--and Englishman's World by Robert Lacey and Danny Danziger. I picked this one up at thrift store, and I was not disappointed. It is structured around the Julius Work Calendar, a document that shows a different picture for each month of the year. Then, it describes in great detail the different activities that might have gone on in each particular month (planting, harvesting, etc.). In all, I'm definitely grateful to be living now and not then--of particular interest to me were stories of the Viking raids, and how they would sail up the rivers and take the Brits' harvest, in addition to their seeds for the next season, which would completely ruin them. Full of fascinating detail and generally fun to read.
Adverbs and Shut Your Mouth by Daniel Handler. There were many things to love about these two books by Daniel Handler, a.k.a. Lemony Snicket. It is easy, however, to understand why he uses the Snicket handle for his children's books and his real name (if that IS your real name, Mr. Handler!) for more adult writing. There was plenty of adult in the adult writing. Adverbs had a fun concept: each section was based on an adverb, with a reference to it somewhere in that story. The different stories were also loosely connected throughout the book, just enough to see a connection, but not so much as to be overwhelming. Shut Your Mouth had some gorgeous passages and a clever execution of the novel-as-opera concept (I know you see that all the time), but centered around a guy who was dating a girl whose family had some potentially incestuous problems. Occasionally far too frank for my tastes.
Fever Pitch by Nick Hornby. Super fun memoir about Hornby's obsession with a particular English football club. He is a diehard fan, but anyone who has diehard fandom in them is likely to relate. If you read any of his High Fidelity, this book is as obsessed and particular about football as High Fidelity is about music and bad relationships. There were laugh out loud moments.
Generation A by Douglas Coupland. A kind of end-of-the-world tale about six-ish people who are stung by bees after bees have supposedly disappeared. It is told from each of the six's points of view (from a variety of different cultures, locations, etc.), and turns into something of a mystery/conspiracy tale about big pharmaceutical companies and the world after bees. Language (Canadian!).
The Big Over Easy and The Fourth Bear by Jasper Fforde. I've read both of these before, but after a few of my students wrote their Contemporary British Book Projects about them, I had to read them again. Fforde also wrote the Thursday Next novels, which are goofy fun. These two are about Detective Jack Spratt; the first is about solving Humpty Dumpty's death, and the second is about Goldilocks. They are fast-paced, witty, full of allusions and references to nursery rhymes (they are, after all, "Nursery Crime" novels), and occasionally groan-inducing, but when has that ever stopped me from enjoying a joke? Good enough to be read twice, but probably not thrice. (Okay, The Big Over Easy is the more enjoyable of the two, but I would recommend reading them both).
A Long Way Down by Nick Hornby. Another book I read to boost my Contemporary Brit Lit numbers. About four people who accidentally meet at the top of a building on New Year's Eve with the intention of committing suicide. They talk each other down, and, like Generation A, the reader gets to hear parts of the narrative from each of the major players. One is a TV host who was involved in a sex scandal. Another is the wild child of a member of parliament. One is an American hippie-esque musician dude who lives in London. The fourth is a frumpy, lonely middle-aged mother of a quadriplegic son. The story traces them through their "recovery" and helping each other get past the issues that led to the tower in the first place. I liked it.
The Sun Also Rises and The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway. I'm ashamed to admit I haven't read much (if any) Hemingway up to this point, and I had these two books at home. The Sun Also Rises is what helped the running of the bulls in Pamplona gain its fame--it's also about the Lost Generation after WWI. I quite enjoyed it. The Old Man and the Sea is kind of like you'd expect it to be. :)
Dawn and The Accident by Elie Wiesel. As parts of what is called Elie Wiesel's "Night Trilogy", both books were different than I expected them to be. I was hoping for a continuation of Night, but it wasn't so. Dawn is concerned with a Holocaust survivor who is supposed to help the Zionist cause by helping a rebel group execute a British prisoner at, you guessed it, dawn. The Accident is quasi-fictional story about a young Jewish reporter/Holocaust survivor and some of his relationships after coming to America and getting run over by a car in New York City. Neither is really a summer read/beach book, but then again, I was in Idaho.
Shades of Grey by Jasper Fforde. I bought this as an audiobook and hadn't listened to it in a long time. As I drove back and forth to my master's classes this summer, this book accompanied me. It's a dystopian novel about a future where class systems are divided by color and all color is manufactured. The characters and situations are fun, and there's a lot of quick dialogue. I loved it.
1984 by George Orwell. Read it in high school--this is my first re-read. It was the official summer read for my Brit Lit class, and it BLEW MY MIND. I absolutely loved it.
A Spot of Bother by Mark Haddon, author of The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, which I reviewed last year, I think. This one's about a retiree who discovers a spot on his thigh (a spot of bother? Get it?) and the potential that it's cancerous leads him to a mental breakdown, right about the time his daughter is to get remarried to a boyfriend who is stable but unloved by the in-laws. Further family awkwardness comes from a son who is gay but unable or unwilling to confront it with his family (who are also uncomfortable with the situation). Lots of wacky hijinks ensue. Lots of language, some questionable situations. I quite liked it. Also for contemporary Brit Lit reading list.
Who Killed Art Deco? by Chuck Barris, creator of the Gong Show. A murder mystery about the death of the heir to a large fortune. Meh.
Mr. Monster by Dan Wells. Sequel to I am Not a Serial Killer, which I also reviewed last year. The protagonist, Jon Wayne Cleaver, is trying his best to adjust to life when a series of killings start happening, and he suspects that supernatural forces are at work again in his small town. Creepy, violent, disturbing.
Player Piano by Kurt Vonnegut. Futuristic story about a world where machines have made most humans obsolete in the workforce, except for engineers and inventors. Some great points and interesting commentary on how we value or don't value humans as laborers vs. automation and saving time and money.
The Girl who Kicked the Hornet's Nest by Steig Larsson. The third in the series. Wraps the whole thing up--large government coverups in the life of one of the protagonists. Was read on or near the beach, which is the best way to read a book.
Red Harvest by Dashiell Hammett. A hard-boiled detective investigates corruption in a small mining town. Lots of great tough-guy dialogue, drinking, and shooting.
Mr. Monk in Outer Space and Mr. Monk and the Dirty Cop by Lee Goldberg. Books based on the TV series Monk. Kind of like watching TV, but in book form. Enjoyable, if you like the TV show or people with OCD.
Never End by Ake Edwardson. Swedish mystery novel from D.I. Serial rapist on the loose in Goteborg in the heat of the summer. Great description of the sweltering heat, late night sunshine, and (what I assume to be an accurate portrayal of) Swedish culture.
Small Steps by Louis Sachar. Sequel to Holes about Armpit, his friendship with the girl next door who has cerebral palsy and their connection with the country's biggest pop star. Fun, quick read.
The Thin Man by Dashiell Hammett. The dust jacket describes the main couple as "lovable inebriates" Nick and Nora. Nick, a former detective, solves a murder mystery involving a family that he formerly worked for.
I think that's it. I probably yakked on and on more than I should have, and probably left a book out somewhere. Send questions or comments my way. Good night!
I'll shut up now and tell you about my books.
I meant to make a more permanent mental note about the first couple of books I read this year, and now that I go to type this, I may or may not be historically accurate. I'll do my best.
Slaughter-house Five by Kurt Vonnegut. *Interesting note: I read this book entirely in waiting rooms while going through physical therapy for my dislocated shoulder early last year (we didn't celebrate a few days ago). This wasn't my first time reading the book, but it was the first Vonnegut book I read--I came back to it again because while I enjoyed it somewhat the first time around, I figured I'd like it even more coming back to it after having read a number of his other works. The book is Vonnegut's attempt to make sense of the firebombing of Dresden during WWII; the title refers to the underground meat locker where the author (and the main, time-traveling protagonist, Billy Pilgrim) survive the destruction of that event. The novel is crazy, jumpy, funny, crass, thought-provoking, and just plain good. So it goes.
Little Bee by Chris Clive. *Interesting note: I read this book (almost? Or maybe) entirely in fast food restaurants. I was finishing up my grading for the semester, which included a whole bunch of terrible senior essays (which are also the reason for me deciding to work on posting my reading list tonight), and when I needed a break from all that excitement, I went to get fat and read this book. The back cover is kind of annoying in telling readers to spread the word about the book, but not to reveal what it's about. Hogwash. Okay, I'll tell you a tiny bit. It's about a Nigerian immigrant girl who comes to Britain, then simultaneously tells the backstory and the story, alternating narration between the immigrant girl ("Little Bee") and the couple she knows in Britain via a dramatic, horrifying incident from a year or so previous (in Nigeria, if you must know. Okay, I've told you enough already). Dramatic, horrifying incidents continue to happen, but I was engaged, enthralled, enticed, and en-something else. Made me think about immigration issues in our country, in Denmark, and in England.
One Big Damn Puzzler by John Harding. Also read in great chunks at physical therapy. A story about a tropical island with an indigenous tribe who have suffered from the effects of leftover landmines from WWII. The main character comes to represent the people in a class-action lawsuit against the American government for the loss of their limbs. The people aren't really interested in money. The main character meets a female researcher living on the island who documents the inhabitants' mode of living. Occasional research-type texts are scattered throughout the story, detailing everything from their religion to their mating rituals. The author made up the people, and, rather than imitate another type of pidgin English, he made up his own. The title comes from the chief of the island; he's translating "Hamlet" into the island's pidgin, and the language only has a present tense. Hamlet's famous speech goes something like this: "Is am be or is am not be. Is be one big damn puzzler." Eventually, the lawyer wins for the people, who sell out their island paradise for American government money, with, of course, disastrous consequences. I loved the characterization in this book, and I actually got a little teary-eyed at one particularly poignant moment during the performance of the chief's Hamlet. And I don't get teary-eyed often. I really enjoyed this book, but it may not be for sensitive readers who don't want to read about mating rituals of native peoples. It was light-hearted, generally funny, and picked up on a whim, so even better! (I tried to read more contemporary British novels this year so I can recommend them to my classes. I made it through a few.)
The Year 1000: What Life was Like at the Turn of the First Millenium--and Englishman's World by Robert Lacey and Danny Danziger. I picked this one up at thrift store, and I was not disappointed. It is structured around the Julius Work Calendar, a document that shows a different picture for each month of the year. Then, it describes in great detail the different activities that might have gone on in each particular month (planting, harvesting, etc.). In all, I'm definitely grateful to be living now and not then--of particular interest to me were stories of the Viking raids, and how they would sail up the rivers and take the Brits' harvest, in addition to their seeds for the next season, which would completely ruin them. Full of fascinating detail and generally fun to read.
Adverbs and Shut Your Mouth by Daniel Handler. There were many things to love about these two books by Daniel Handler, a.k.a. Lemony Snicket. It is easy, however, to understand why he uses the Snicket handle for his children's books and his real name (if that IS your real name, Mr. Handler!) for more adult writing. There was plenty of adult in the adult writing. Adverbs had a fun concept: each section was based on an adverb, with a reference to it somewhere in that story. The different stories were also loosely connected throughout the book, just enough to see a connection, but not so much as to be overwhelming. Shut Your Mouth had some gorgeous passages and a clever execution of the novel-as-opera concept (I know you see that all the time), but centered around a guy who was dating a girl whose family had some potentially incestuous problems. Occasionally far too frank for my tastes.
Fever Pitch by Nick Hornby. Super fun memoir about Hornby's obsession with a particular English football club. He is a diehard fan, but anyone who has diehard fandom in them is likely to relate. If you read any of his High Fidelity, this book is as obsessed and particular about football as High Fidelity is about music and bad relationships. There were laugh out loud moments.
Generation A by Douglas Coupland. A kind of end-of-the-world tale about six-ish people who are stung by bees after bees have supposedly disappeared. It is told from each of the six's points of view (from a variety of different cultures, locations, etc.), and turns into something of a mystery/conspiracy tale about big pharmaceutical companies and the world after bees. Language (Canadian!).
The Big Over Easy and The Fourth Bear by Jasper Fforde. I've read both of these before, but after a few of my students wrote their Contemporary British Book Projects about them, I had to read them again. Fforde also wrote the Thursday Next novels, which are goofy fun. These two are about Detective Jack Spratt; the first is about solving Humpty Dumpty's death, and the second is about Goldilocks. They are fast-paced, witty, full of allusions and references to nursery rhymes (they are, after all, "Nursery Crime" novels), and occasionally groan-inducing, but when has that ever stopped me from enjoying a joke? Good enough to be read twice, but probably not thrice. (Okay, The Big Over Easy is the more enjoyable of the two, but I would recommend reading them both).
A Long Way Down by Nick Hornby. Another book I read to boost my Contemporary Brit Lit numbers. About four people who accidentally meet at the top of a building on New Year's Eve with the intention of committing suicide. They talk each other down, and, like Generation A, the reader gets to hear parts of the narrative from each of the major players. One is a TV host who was involved in a sex scandal. Another is the wild child of a member of parliament. One is an American hippie-esque musician dude who lives in London. The fourth is a frumpy, lonely middle-aged mother of a quadriplegic son. The story traces them through their "recovery" and helping each other get past the issues that led to the tower in the first place. I liked it.
The Sun Also Rises and The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway. I'm ashamed to admit I haven't read much (if any) Hemingway up to this point, and I had these two books at home. The Sun Also Rises is what helped the running of the bulls in Pamplona gain its fame--it's also about the Lost Generation after WWI. I quite enjoyed it. The Old Man and the Sea is kind of like you'd expect it to be. :)
Dawn and The Accident by Elie Wiesel. As parts of what is called Elie Wiesel's "Night Trilogy", both books were different than I expected them to be. I was hoping for a continuation of Night, but it wasn't so. Dawn is concerned with a Holocaust survivor who is supposed to help the Zionist cause by helping a rebel group execute a British prisoner at, you guessed it, dawn. The Accident is quasi-fictional story about a young Jewish reporter/Holocaust survivor and some of his relationships after coming to America and getting run over by a car in New York City. Neither is really a summer read/beach book, but then again, I was in Idaho.
Shades of Grey by Jasper Fforde. I bought this as an audiobook and hadn't listened to it in a long time. As I drove back and forth to my master's classes this summer, this book accompanied me. It's a dystopian novel about a future where class systems are divided by color and all color is manufactured. The characters and situations are fun, and there's a lot of quick dialogue. I loved it.
1984 by George Orwell. Read it in high school--this is my first re-read. It was the official summer read for my Brit Lit class, and it BLEW MY MIND. I absolutely loved it.
A Spot of Bother by Mark Haddon, author of The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, which I reviewed last year, I think. This one's about a retiree who discovers a spot on his thigh (a spot of bother? Get it?) and the potential that it's cancerous leads him to a mental breakdown, right about the time his daughter is to get remarried to a boyfriend who is stable but unloved by the in-laws. Further family awkwardness comes from a son who is gay but unable or unwilling to confront it with his family (who are also uncomfortable with the situation). Lots of wacky hijinks ensue. Lots of language, some questionable situations. I quite liked it. Also for contemporary Brit Lit reading list.
Who Killed Art Deco? by Chuck Barris, creator of the Gong Show. A murder mystery about the death of the heir to a large fortune. Meh.
Mr. Monster by Dan Wells. Sequel to I am Not a Serial Killer, which I also reviewed last year. The protagonist, Jon Wayne Cleaver, is trying his best to adjust to life when a series of killings start happening, and he suspects that supernatural forces are at work again in his small town. Creepy, violent, disturbing.
Player Piano by Kurt Vonnegut. Futuristic story about a world where machines have made most humans obsolete in the workforce, except for engineers and inventors. Some great points and interesting commentary on how we value or don't value humans as laborers vs. automation and saving time and money.
The Girl who Kicked the Hornet's Nest by Steig Larsson. The third in the series. Wraps the whole thing up--large government coverups in the life of one of the protagonists. Was read on or near the beach, which is the best way to read a book.
Red Harvest by Dashiell Hammett. A hard-boiled detective investigates corruption in a small mining town. Lots of great tough-guy dialogue, drinking, and shooting.
Mr. Monk in Outer Space and Mr. Monk and the Dirty Cop by Lee Goldberg. Books based on the TV series Monk. Kind of like watching TV, but in book form. Enjoyable, if you like the TV show or people with OCD.
Never End by Ake Edwardson. Swedish mystery novel from D.I. Serial rapist on the loose in Goteborg in the heat of the summer. Great description of the sweltering heat, late night sunshine, and (what I assume to be an accurate portrayal of) Swedish culture.
Small Steps by Louis Sachar. Sequel to Holes about Armpit, his friendship with the girl next door who has cerebral palsy and their connection with the country's biggest pop star. Fun, quick read.
The Thin Man by Dashiell Hammett. The dust jacket describes the main couple as "lovable inebriates" Nick and Nora. Nick, a former detective, solves a murder mystery involving a family that he formerly worked for.
I think that's it. I probably yakked on and on more than I should have, and probably left a book out somewhere. Send questions or comments my way. Good night!
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Monday, January 2, 2012
Happy New Year.
I've got to grade so, so, so, so, so badly that I decided to come and post a decidedly non-post post. Winter break has come and gone; we had a marvelous time in the north country with my family (even saw a teeny-tiny bit of snow--enough for us, anyhow); we've had a little bit of fun here at home; we played games and ate probably bad for us food until late in the night on New Year's Eve; we struggled to make it to 9 o'clock church the next morning. An additional note for my family: our heater just went out shortly after we came home. It was cold this morning--57 degrees in the house (I know this sounds balmy to you if you live in areas where temperatures below ten degrees and even far below zero are the norm, but it was cooooold). We are getting it fixed. I know you were worried.
Later this week (hopefully), I'll be putting together my annual quarterly book reading report (yes, I procrastinated it until the end of the year again this year, despite my good intentions at appropriate intervals throughout the year).
Okay. Now I've really got to get some grading done. I'm supposed to be picking up a student teacher tomorrow. Ugh.
Happy New Year. (!--exclamation added to indicate semi-excitement).
Later this week (hopefully), I'll be putting together my annual quarterly book reading report (yes, I procrastinated it until the end of the year again this year, despite my good intentions at appropriate intervals throughout the year).
Okay. Now I've really got to get some grading done. I'm supposed to be picking up a student teacher tomorrow. Ugh.
Happy New Year. (!--exclamation added to indicate semi-excitement).
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