12 posts tagged “good book”

The Elegance of the Hedgehog, by Muriel Barbery.

 

 

Isn't that title magnificent?

I very nearly bought this book for the title alone, but I did skim a page or two before slapping it down and saying "I'll take it!"  I must say, however, that I'd never have purchased it if it weren't for the title.  A customer requested it months ago, and the title stuck firmly in my brain.  Today, I desperately needed something to read, and so I purchased The Elegance of the Hedgehog as I left work.

I also must say that I don't understand all of it.  The author is very philosophical, and has a tendency to go on about thinkers for a page at a time.  That's nowhere near as disturbing or annoying as it might be.  Somehow, it fits this book.

If you like to laugh about upper class snobbery and read about Japanese simplicity and would enjoy spending time in the company of a French concierge who is extremely art-and-music conscious but must maintain proletarian facade while making snarky side comments about the insanely rich young university students yakking about how reading Marx has changed their lives, man....go read the book.  Oh, and the concierge (to the distress of the building's other residents, natch) becomes friends with a young genius who lives in the building and whose suicidal adolescent genius angst is perfectly tempered by the concierge's dry public maturity and private uncertainties.

Furthermore, the author has described the effect of music better than ever I could.  In the following paragraph, the 12-year-old genius is listening to the choir at her school perform, and observes:

"Every time, it's the same thing.  I feel like crying, my throat goes all tight and I do the best I can to control myself but sometimes it gets close: I can hardly keep myself from sobbing.  So when they sing a canon I look down at the ground because it's just too much emotion at once: it's too beautiful, and everyone singing together, this marvelous sharing.  I'm no longer myself, I am just one part of a sublime whole, to which the others also belong, and I always wonder at such moments why this cannot be the rule of everyday life, instead of being an exceptional moment, during a choir.

When the music stops, everyone applauds, their faces all lit up, the choir radiant.  It is so beautiful.

In the end, I wonder if the true movement of the world might not be a voice raised in song." (p. 184-185, The Elegance of the Hedgehog)

I think I've found my monthly book to recommend.  One brief note: this book is translated from the original French.  Therefore, it never had a hardcover debut in America, as it was, I believe, translated to English and sold in America after European success.  I bought it in paperback.  I considered very briefly spending the money to have it shipped in hardcover from England, and decided that I'd rather not spend the money for the book and the ridiculous shipping only to not know if I'd even like it or want it in my library.  This book stays.  Furthermore, I can think of at least two people to whom I'd like to give this book for birthdays or Christmas.

UbiCaritas gives this book two thumbs up and five stars.

 

 

"Comfort food" is usually defined as food that isn't necessarily good for a person, but that does give them that, well, comforted feeling.  It is extremely difficult, for example, to feel disquieted while sipping a mug of hot chocolate (made with Real Chocolate and Real Milk with Real Whipped Cream On Top) or munching on homemade biscuits. 

Of course, if you drank chocolate milk or ate homemade biscuits all the time, you couldn't feel comforted by them because you could never get the zipper up on your favorite jeans, and that's a most uncomfortable feeling.

For me, Dean Koontz is my "comfort reading."  His characters are strong.  They might come from horrifying backgrounds, but they've risen above that to become good people.  Most of the people they meet are good people, too.  There is usually a most excellent dog, and occasionally a remarkable cat in his stories.  There is humor.  There are distinctly bizarre situations.  There is some more humor.  There is mention of comfort food, natch.  The Bad Guys get it in the end.  Not everything is sunshine and roses, mind you, but 75% or so of the world is portrayed as such, which I think is a fairly good estimate.

(Did I mention the ghosts of Elvis and Sinatra?)

This week, I needed comfort reading, and I picked up a couple of Koontz paperbacks to supply that need.  I wasn't dissapointed.  The ultimate in self-pampering for me is sitting in my reading corner in a room smelling of fresh air and Murphy's oil soap and old books, reading a Dean Koontz and indulging in a bag of Real Candy (made, of course, with Real Sugar, Real Cream, Real Butter, etc).

And guess what?

 

 

 

The looooooong-anticipated third book in his Frankenstein series will finally be released this July--July 28th, to be precise.

I sense an early birthday present to myself.  Even if I'm not working that morning, I will be at work at 9 AM sharp to purchase Dead and Alive.

How cool is this?

The last time I did something like that, I might add, was when the last Harry Potter book was released.  I couldn't go to the party the night before as I had to work, but I went to Barnes and Noble straight after work and bought it.  I kept cracking it open at stoplights and such on my way home. 

(themaureencorps, you now have a date you can give those customers you loathe so much.  Honestly, you should read this series.  You'd LOVE it.  It's the anti-Twilight.  It has humor, big guns, monstrous scientific creations, and more big guns.  And ice cream.  Don't forget ice cream.  With chocolate and mint.  Yeah.)

 

I will confess to high hopes that Mr. Koontz will finish his Christopher Snow series soon, now that he has Frankenstein out of the way.  I love the Frankenstein series, but I'm even fonder of Christopher Snow.  Those of us who are Christopher Snow fans had a bone (shaped, strangely enough, like a sweatshirt) tossed our way in the last Odd Thomas book.

Puuuuuuhlease?

I'm now going to go curl up in my wingchair, sip some more coffee, and read some more Dean Koontz. 

 

I had a Bookseller First yesterday.

A bit over a week ago, I had a customer approach me and request that I find or order a certain book for her.  We didn't have it in stock (I'm ashamed to say that I can't remember the title now), but she wasn't in a hurry to read it, so I placed an order.  Having done so, she asked for a recommendation.

Recs are tough.  A lot of people want to read a new book or new genre, but when it's actually placed in their hand they get cold feet.  Fear of the unknown, perhaps?  Who knows?

Anyway, glancing at her basket of books, I made a strong plug for The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society.  One of the benefits of this book is that it has a thoroughly memorable title; people do not forget it!  She said that it sounded interesting, but that she wasn't inclined to get it because it had been promoted by the corporate office of The Bookstore in their "Suggestions" newsletter, and that she'd never liked any of the titles they featured.

"Bluntly speaking, ma'am," said I, "I never have either.  Frankly, I can only chalk up their recommendation of this book to a clerical error or one of their reviewers getting drunk some night and sending off an email about it.  Their selections are usually cover-to-cover angst-ridden drivel.  That being said, when this book came out I did two things that I haven't done before or since: I purchased one of their recommended copies, and I did so when it went bestseller.  I haven't regretted it for a moment, and I've reread it at least once since I purchased it."

She agreed that she'd consider getting it, and then changed the subject.  I thought nothing more of this until yesterday evening, as I suggest titles to customers all the time.

She came back yesterday evening, and came up to my register.  I opened my mouth to give my usual hi-how-are-you-did-you-find-everything-you-needed-do-you-have-a-savings-card spiel.  Instead, she started the conversation.

"Oh, you're that bookseller who recommended that potato peel pie book to me!  I came back earlier this week but you weren't here.  I just wanted to let you know that I LOVED that book!  Thanks so much for suggesting it!  Do you have any other recommendations?"

I have given hundreds of books recommendations to people in the last year and a half at The Bookstore.  Of those hundred, I expect that a few dozen actually picked up the book.  Until yesterday, not one has ever come back and told me if they liked it, much less asked for another recommendation.

I am happy.

Three guesses as to what the next rec was, and the first two don't count.

Yep.

You guessed it.

84 Charing Cross Road.

Title: 84 Charing Cross Road

Author: Helene Hanff

Rating: Can one perhaps raise five stars to the second, third, or tenth power?  (Can you tell that I'm taking another math class this semester?)

 

Read it

if you love good books,

if you want to share that love with wonderful and book-loving people,

if you want to become a friend of friends of books,

if you love the feel of a perfectly bound good book in your hand--none of those revolting "grimy schoolboy editions" published by B&N, Borders, and all and sundry,

if you appreciate great wit and gentility,

if you consider abridgement, retelling, and selection to be crimes that would, in a reasonable world, be punishable by hanging, drawing and quartering at the very least,

if you are or ever have been an impoverished bibliophile,

if you've read and loved The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society (a reviewer of that beautiful book led me to 84 Charing Cross Road),

(and if any of these statements are true and you haven't read The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, get thee to your nearest bookstore/computer/library) 

if you haunt real used bookstores and/or devoutly wish that chain used-book stores, however well-meaning, would not exist as they tend to put the privately-owned used-book stores out of business, 

if you dream of spending afternoons wandering through shelves and shelves and shelves of books,

then you must read this book.  That's all there is to it.  You will laugh, nod, hop up and down, run out and spend too much money on some books, cry, and reread, because the only issue I'd have with the book is that it is too darned short.

I got my copy yesterday, stayed up 'til two reading it after work, and will reread it again today before finding a fellow book lover to whom I'll pass it on.

Go forth and purchase it!  In paperback, you can get it for $5 (including shipping) from Abebooks.com.  In hardcover, you could get it for $8 or so (again, including shipping).  I'd argue that this book should be purchased in hardcover because of the sort of book that it is, but I'm sure Ms. Hanff would have understood if one must purchase it in paperback.  Heck, go to a library and get it for free.  It is all of maybe 150-200 pages, and probably less; not exactly a tome.

Just read it, okay?

(Carapiccoladiva, I have vowed that this afternoon I shall sit down and read Mrs. Dalloway cover-to-cover and not let myself be distracted from my purpose.  Now you go get this book!  :D Incidentally, it is available in German.  Oh, and I've meant to email you about this, but to look back to the book meme of over a year ago, Birgit Nilsson's autobiography--La Nilsson--has finally come out in English.)  

I found this at Half-Price Books today, and couldn't resist.  (Well, I could have, but then I wouldn't have a blog post.  File that under "lamest excuse ever for purchasing a book.")

 

I first read Inside, Outside when I was in high school.  For my last two years of high school, I attended a tiny high school in a correspondingly miniscule town.  The school library was the town library.  I kid you not.  It was open to the public two days each week for two hours at a time.  It was open to students during school hours, and featured two shelves of nonfiction, three of fiction, and a wall of reference books.

Since I spent most of my class time and all of the time on the bus reading, I finished anything worth reading in that libary by Halloween or so of my junior year.

I asked the libarian to request some books via interlibrary loan for me.

She replied that it had been years since she last did that, she didn't think that she remembered how to do it, and why did I want to have my nose in a book all the time?

I offered to put away all the books on the "Reshelve" cart if she'd get that list of books for me.  As the librarian was morbidly obese and had bad hips/knees/feet, she realized the benefit of this: she could remain sitting at the desk while requesting those books, and her shelving would be finished.

I had heard of Inside, Outside after I read Chaim Potok.  (When I checked out My Name is Asher Lev, the librarian suspiciously asked me if I was planning on selling it on Ebay, because NO ONE read Chaim Potok because they LIKED him.)  Inside, Outside also deals with a Jew who reads much Talmud, but there the similarities end.  While Potok writes beautiful, heartbreaking, stunning literature, Wouk is just a bloody good read.  Imagine a politically liberal Jewish tax attorney who is married to an even-more-politically-liberal woman.  Imagine if Nixon (who is never mentioned by name but implied) decides that he needs a Jewish person on his staff--err, I mean, "Special Assistant to the President for Cultural and Educational Liason."  Now remember that the wife campaigned madly for Stephenson.  The man--who, while he disagrees politically with Nixon, doesn't hate him--decides to write a memoir about his crazy family in order to pass the time.  He's studied Talmud for hours while waiting for a job from the President--though he  does occasionally get delegated to take Soviet professors of American literature to topless bars.  Now it's time to write about his totally devoted (and nutty) mother, his peculiar ancestors, and his grandmother, who makes sauerkraut by the vat while the lot of them are living in an apartment.

Off to read...  

Unsure of what to get a kid for Christmas/birthday/Hannukah/et all?  You want to get him/her a book, but don't know what?

Have I got a recommendation for you!

 

When Marian Sang is a picture book about the singer Marian Anderson.  Best known for the open-air concert on the Lincoln Memorial steps, Marian Anderson was the sort of diva that I aspire to be.

I've read her autobiography (My Lord, What a Morning) and was stunned by the sheer grace of this woman.  Despite all the racism and hatred that she faced, she never once appeared to be bitter or angry in My Lord, What a Morning.  Instead, she was simply grateful: grateful for her voice and talent, grateful for the opportunities that she had, grateful for those doors that opened and the sweet people around her.  How many people in her position could say as much?  I can't imagine being so forgiving of such wrongs.

When Marian Sang captured her brilliant spirit and incredible story and put it into a tale for children.  The writing is lyrically lovely, and the pictures--all done in a sienna wash--are stunning, just stunning.

Yeah, $18 or so is a bit expensive for a picture book, but I'd say that it is worth it.  One of the editions even includes a CD of some of her music.  How cool is that?

Heck, I want this book in my personal library, and I don't even have kids! 

Don't really have any stories from work at the moment (at least, nothing amusing) and school is fantastic but as of yet unremarkable, so what to write about?  Well, if singing and work are out, that leaves...books and food, natch!

Okay, recipe for a lovely dinner, which will either serve 3-4 or leave lots of leftovers.  In particular, the salmon is incredible as leftovers, possibly even better than it was right out of the oven.  I think the flavors mingle a little better after 24 hours or so. 

Take a salmon fillet and a bottle of ginger-wasabi marinade (I never said that this was original!).  Pour some of the marinade into the pan, and slap the salmon into it.  Turn the salmon over a few times in order to be sure that it is covered in marinade.  Refrigerate for a day or so.

The next day, snap the ends off of two pounds of asparagus.  Place the ends on the bottom of a fairly deep frying pan.  Add just enough water to almost (but not quite) cover the asparagus ends.  Add a TB of butter, cut into slivers.  (I know, I know, butter = great evil presence that will kill you in your sleep.  One TB will add a whopping hundred calories to the entire two pounds of asparagus, and will improve the flavor immeasurably.  Put the butter in, darn it!)  Then put the rest of the asparagus on top of the ends.  The ends will keep the asparagus from scorching on the bottom of the pan.  Cover the pan, and set it on a burner.  Simmer until tender, about 8-10 minutes, depending on the thickness of the stalks.

While the asparagus is cooking, put the salmon under a broiler until crispy on the edges; time will vary depending on the size of the fillet.  Cut a few slices from a loaf of really good bread and some more slices of a similarly good cheese (I recommend Brie).  If you're a wine person, pour a glass at this point.  Put on some sort of pleasant but unobtrusive music.  Pull out the salmon, and cut yourself a piece.  Dish out some asparagus, put some bread and cheese on the plate, and voila!  Dinner is served.

I had fresh raspberries and a peach for dessert; to make it fancy, you could add cream whipped with just a hint of nutmeg, with a light dust of nutmeg overall just before serving.  I think that the fruit was good as it was, though, as it's hard to beat perfectly in-season raspberries and peach!

Now for some books...

 

 

I've finished Waiter Rant, and I thoroughly enjoyed it.  I even decided to purchase it, on the theory that I've read The Waiter's blog for years for free, and that I should at least say "thanks" by buying the book.

It's a rather out-of-the-way book, admittedly.  The best way to describe it is as a collection of blog posts.  Over two-thirds of the book has never been online, but I still sort of perceived it as a set of posts (admittedly longer than most of his posts) that I hadn't read before.  You know how, when you read a really neat blog you finish up reading the latest post by thinking "Man, that was COOL, but I wish it kept going?"  This book is like that for Waiter Rant fans.

 

 

 

 

 

 

As a rule, I don't usually read best-sellers.  Far too frequently, they're trash, garbage (yes, there's a difference), or just plain badly written.  I not only read this NYT Bestseller, but I purchased it before it hit used-book sites at a considerably cheaper rate.  Readers (all six of them) of this blog know how unusual that is.

It's written as a series of letters between several characters and set shortly after WWII.  I was initially uncertain about it, but after reading about 20 pages I was hooked and didn't put it down that night until I'd finished it.

If I had to describe it, I'd say that it's a historical novel/love story/mystery based around some relatively unknown wartime incidents.  It will particularly appeal to the lover of good books.

 

 

 

 

Resistance is written by a woman who was arrested in France shortly after Paris was invaded.  She had been distributing pamphlets and putting impertinent de Gaulle bumper stickers on Nazi vehicles.  For this, she spent the remainder of the war in prison and labor camps.

I would have expected this to be a really interesting book, and it was.  But it was just depressing.  That sounds so self-centered, because this woman went through more horror than I can imagine.  But, well, it's true.  I didn't see much love or affection in this book.  Sure, I wouldn't exactly expect that from the Nazis, but the author spent most of the book being sarcastic and unpleasant.  When speaking, for example, of being told that she was a grandmother, she didn't discuss her feelings of not meeting this child or even initially knowing his sex or name.  Instead, she was sarcastic: of course the camp's wardress didn't let her know; she supposed that good German women didn't need to know the sex of their grandchildren.  If any of you have read The Chronicles of Narnia, the author's style reminds me of that of Eustace (Voyage of the Dawn Treader) when he wrote in his notebook: in a word, snotty.  Just snotty. 

Maybe it's partly the translation, since the book was translated from the French.  But the unpleasantness, bitterness and--I'll use this word once more and then stop--snottiness of the book kept me from particularly appreciating it.  At the end of the war, some of the local peasants refused to identify those who had mistreated them.  Why?  Because they were religious, and forgave their opppressors.  Quite frankly, I couldn't do that, but I could respect it.  After all, those who had been in charge of the camps weren't going to be in such a position again, so not identifying them wouldn't cause others to suffer in the future.  Instead of being at least understanding about this position, she mocks them and makes unnecessarily rude remarks about the religious statues in their cottages. 

All in all, this isn't a book I'll be recommending anytime soon.

 

Now for an entirely different sort of book.  While I'm a bit of a Dean Koontz fan, I had never read his Frankenstein books.  I read both over the last month or two.  I must say, I'm impressed.  While I wouldn't say that they are great literature, I will say that they are, as his books generally tend to be, extremely well-written.  Exquisite attention to detail mingles with brilliant imagination, and they form another series that has me begging, "Mr. Koontz, WHERE is the third book of the series?" (His Christopher Snow books, my favorite of all his series, have been waiting for their third book for over ten years, I believe, though a very distance reference was made to them in his latest Odd Thomas installment.)

Koontz makes the reader present in his story; one cringes at Carson's madcap driving, and chuckles at Maddison's side comments.  At the same time, the reader ponders the unanswerable: how and what is ensoulment?  Can a creature created specifically for evil still render good?  The importance of the responsible practice of science and, of course, the "everyday hero" are prominently featured.

There are, as always, many good laughs and much reference to mouth-watering food.  As has been indicated in his other books, Koontz (not incorrectly, I think) seems to argue that when the world is being destroyed, sometimes all that one can do is cling to that which one holds dear: family, friends, and chocolate-mint ice cream.

Heaven alone knows when he'll release Book Three.  It was supposed to be published in 2006.  The date was then pushed to 2007, and on to 2008.  Now the tentative release date is in 2009. 

I do know that I'll be first in line when that book is finally released.

But please, Mr. Koontz.  Couldn't you finish the Christopher Snow series soon?  This reader would be most grateful.

I keep seeing books at the store that are not terribly well known, but that should definitely be read.  Then, too, I've ordered a few books about which I wanted to blog.  May I present....

 

 

First off, Waiter Rant came out two weeks ago.  Written by the author of the popular blog of that name, Waiter Rant details a behind-the-scenes look at restaurant life that ranges from touching to hilarious to head-scratching.  About a third of the material is previously blogged; the rest is new, and equally well-written.  If you haven't read his blog, do so; the Waiter is an equally good writer.  Anyone in customer service or who is a "student of life," so to speak, will enjoy this book.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Donna Andrews is a writer who is at once insightful, humorous and unusual.  The former quality is not seen as much in her Meg Langslow series as in her Turing Hopper series, but I still highly recommend her Langslow series to anyone who enjoys an amusingly well-thought-out mystery.  Her description of the character's endearingly peculiar family members is dead on, and her resolution of the mysteries is as original as her title puns are groan-worthy.  The Penguin Who Knew Too Much, her second-most-recent book in the Meg Langslow series, just came out in paperback, too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Elizabeth Peters, AKA Barbara Michaels, AKA Barbara Mertz (her real name), has at last written another novel in her Vicky Bliss series.  While Ms. Peters is best known for her Amelia Peabody mystery series, her Vicky Bliss novels are, if fewer in number, equally well-written and possibly even more "fun."  Laughter of Dead Kings will not be released until August 26 (much to my disgust, as school starts the day before), but excitement is peaking already among Peters' fans as it has been fourteen years since her last Vicky Bliss book.  The author is an Egyptologist in her own right (her Red Land, Black Land, a book about life in ancient Egypt, is a most enjoyable read for anyone interested in the subject), which adds a good bit of interesting knowledge to all of her books.

 

 

 

Finally, I treated myself to a spot of retail therapy on abebooks.  I had some birthday money to spend, and I am delighted to say that I have now purchased all of Edward Eager's "Magic" books in hardcover.  This is a really excellent series of children's fantasy books.  Half Magic is probably the best-known of the books, though my personal favorites are Knight's Castle and The Time Garden.  He wrote nine children's books; of these, seven (a "magic" number) compose his "Magic" series.  I got all seven in hardcover for just under $50 total.  The most expensive of these, interestingly enough, was The Time Garden, which was $15 (including shipping).  The rest were $5-$7 (including shipping) each.  They are all well worth it.  They are also all still in print, albeit not in hardcover.  Eager's books were written, to a certain extent, written in homage to Edith Nesbit, who he considered to be the children's fantasy author (as well he might).  I wanted his other two books (Mouse Manor and Playing Possum) but those two in hardback were a bit out of my budget for the moment.  In any case, I plan on spending my last day off prior to the beginning of school in my pajamas with a goody supply of coffee and tea and all those books. 

I would recommend Eager's series for any child or adult who enjoys a good and magical-yet-rooted-in-ordinary-life read.  It is a fantastic (in every sense of the word) set of books.  (Incidentally, Katiebell, I've purchased the first book of one of Lloyd Alexander's series, and intend to curl up with it this evening.) 

Happy reading!

A gentleman:

-notices that a lady's car has a flat tire, and offers to inflate it/check air pressure/check for slow leak for her

 

Someone who is not a gentleman:

-inquires as to whether we carry "some sort of scifi books about dragons."  "Yes, sir, we carry many."  "Something kind of erotic."  With DRAGONS?!   My poor, formerly (somewhat) innocent mind.

 

It's been that kind of weekend so far.  It also appears that one of Aberforth's tires is having issues.  "Issues" in the sense of "going forth"; in short, it appears to have a slow leak.  Ergo, I shall drag my new Dickens volume down to the tire shop tomorrow and read Bleak House for the first time while having the tire patched or replaced as necessary. 

Book, magazine, catalog, nutritional information, billboard, website, newspaper... What are you currently reading and would you recommend it to others?

I really have no time to read right now.  The only reading time I'm getting is over breakfast, or about 10 minutes each morning.  I'm currently reading Hans Christian Anderson's fairytales, as annotated by Maria Tatar.  Sadly, this is not a complete edition, but it is true to the style, has all the old language and beauty, and is just full of gorgeous word images.  Everyone--adults and children--should read these.