little_tristan: (Puppy Upside Down Willow)
I'm watching a lot of documentaries lately. America the Beautiful, which looks at American standards of female beauty, is very good. Preschool University, on the difficulties of getting into elite Manhattan preschools, is probably more interesting if it's relevant to you. Like, if you live in Manhattan, have a two year old, and can afford fifty grand a year in tuition.

The Billionaire's Tea Party, made by a Brit trying to figure out what the loving fuck is going on over here, makes me sad. No, Tea Parties, you're not a grassroots organization. Poor dude in Walmart clothes who built the website for free? You got hosed. The guys backing your barbecue are worth over $20 billion and that shit just ain't trickling down. Know what else? It's never going to.

Also, if you want to call the president a communist/socialist/Marxist/whatever, please learn what those words mean. 'Cause someone might ask you to defend the accusation and that shocked, stupid look, followed by orders to "look it up" is not helpful to your cause. Because I know what the words mean. I just don't know what you mean.

Tammy was just here dusting and fighting off the dogs because I forgot and scheduled the lawn guys for the same day. But she appreciated the seahorses I stamped on my thumbnails this morning. Probably no one else will notice, so that makes me feel better.

I'm supposed to be paying bills and doing financial stuff, but it's Mom's birthday and I'm taking the day off. It's also Willow's birthday. Dog's never give you a day off, but at least I don't have to bake her a cake. She's perfectly happy just chasing her rope.

The catbox experiment is working well enough that the cats are behaving. Kenny not so much, but I still think that's mostly obesity. That's not exactly news. It's more of a progress report.

Work is still up in the air and the insurance company is still a pain in the ass. They had a meeting yesterday with an agent to answer questions. I gave Russell a list. Most of the questions revolved around prescription copays and my curiosity as to how I'm saving money by paying more. Our last insurance had a three tier system, $15/$30/$45. The new one is two tiered, $15/$30. Yet when Mark picked up my last prescription, which used to be $45, he had to pay $60.

I realize this is a significant savings over the $233 and change that the drug company wants (is Cymbalta shit by California condors or something?), but there's still a lie in there somewhere. I'm so sick and tired of these guys lying to us. And the whole defense of the massive premium increase is that we'll save so much everywhere else. Yet everything costs more. The only thing we haven't tested is hospitalization. I shudder to think what the radical markup and ensuing justification on that would be.

Of course Russ went off on the guy in the meeting, showed him the receipts, pointed out the numbers in the handbook, called them liars and thieves, the whole bit. Dude had no explanation whatsoever and said someone would call me to clear it up.

Ask me if that's happened. Go ahead. I dare you.

They're just lucky I got my Cymbalta or shit'd be a lot crazier right now.

Here's Murphy Sloane in his exoskeleton, looking a little bit crazy, too.

That platform he's on? Is a piece of plywood laid over the bathtub. It doesn't work as a tub, but it's good for storage. And Murphy. Also, true fact: the bar of Irish Spring in the soap dish behind him? Came with the house.

There's a new sea urchin in the house. This one's a cute little spiny critter from Africa, dating back about 50 million years. I haven't gotten a new urchin in a long time, but I was on ebay looking at chondrites and it popped up.

This is the new urchin, along with a thumb for perspective and seahorse showing off.

The chondrites are coming from Germany. I don't know when they'll be here. It's very exciting. For some reason we don't have any. I've never even held one before. But I read about them in Scientific American and it said the slices are gorgeous under a microscope. I love microscopes.

I also love The Hunger Games. I'm going to go read now.
little_tristan: (Writer Snail)
The air in the house is so hot and dry, it's contributing to a new eye infection. Contributing because it's mostly my fault for rubbing it so compulsively the other night. Should have used the drops instead. Luckily I got a refill on the antibiotic/analgesic ointment last time and never opened it.

Mark worked Thursday through Saturday. They got almost everything done. I think they're going to finish this Saturday. But he got Sunday off. We watched Resident Evil on dvd. He'd never seen it before. Then I went to write and he joined me to watch streaming SPN on my computer.

It's the first time he's ever sat with me while I wrote. It's so happymaking that he's actually supportive enough to not comment on all the action-packed man-snuggling. He says he doesn't read over my shoulder, but he does.

He didn't like my calculating and posting the word count. He thinks competitive writing will interfere with what I do naturally. I told him if that was true, I would still be writing instead of posting the word count and playing FarmVille until the last episode finished. It's cute that he cares, but he doesn't understand. Sort of like when I'm hanging around watching him work. Except my work is more boring. There wasn't even any soldering.

Okay, I haven't really done anything else. I finished reading Scarlett Fever and now the library wants it back. But I want to keep it long enough to use it for quotes in the [profile] oddlittlecat discussion. Maybe I'll write my comments today.

The library wants Children of the Resistance, too, but I just started it. It's making me cry. Almost everything makes me cry right now. I'm not sure if it's seasonal or if it's just having my emotions so close to the surface while writing.

New stories are always like that. They come fresh from the emotional center of my brain and the door is wide open until it's finished. Well, a little longer. It's hard to get closed again. That's probably good. If it hadn't been open a crack for the rewrite of The Dancer, the new one wouldn't have been able to escape. It just made such a mess in there getting loose. Now I'm sobbing over Criminal Minds four times a day.

It's weird that I'm close to half-way through and still have no clue about the title. They should have told me by now. They keep whispering about a play on the word "Mass", as in the Catholic service, but I'm not listening. It's too predictable. Jimmy can do better. He's also suggested State of Grace, which has a nice romantic ring, but I still think he's being lazy.

I'm going to do some Christmas shopping and give him time to think.
little_tristan: (Kitten Perpetual Pre-Pounce)
It's already a good day. We got to sleep two extra hours(!) and the boys left not all stressed and freaking out for a change.

Dinner will be tricky because they completely fucked off buying pie last night to go to Fry's and get me a new monitor. It's substantially larger than the old one and the color is beautiful.

They've taken Willow off to work, leaving great peace in Gilead. When Will's not around, Ranger pretty much sleeps all day. And I'm told that Will barks at the bosses when they drop by to see what's going on. That should be bad but it makes me happy.

My icons look different on this monitor. Better, somehow. I hope they look like this to all of you, too. It's very pretty.

Now I have a book to finish reading. Then I'm going to watch Seeking a Friend for the End of the World to see if it's funny enough for Mark. I like proof-watching and reading for other people. Also looking things up. I should've been a personal assistant.
little_tristan: (Bunny)
They're one of those groups whose attention you just never want to bring upon yourself. It's so nice when they aren't noticing you that it goes against every fiber of your being to call them up and ask them to please look into your account. Like going to the police station to find out if you're wanted. But they promised me money back in August and it never came.

I was willing to more or less wait forever, but Mark's a little more practical. When it's not his problem. He wouldn't have called. He wouldn't even go to the doctor that time he had obvious, visible cancer. I had to trick him a little. But dealing with these things is my job, not his. (Even the cancer, strange but true.)

The hold music sucked, and I had to listen to it forever, but the agent couldn't have been nicer. I think she was surprised that I wasn't crying or yelling at her. Phone answering people there must feel terrorized, too. I accidentally made a Comcast tech girl cry once. It did not feel good. (Little known fact: When they're doing something and have you on hold while they type, they've usually just hit mute and can still hear you. Resist the temptation to vent at that time.)

But then she solved the problem! And said it was their fault and had absolutely nothing to do with me! And APOLOGIZED! Several times!!! An IRS AGENT!! It was amazing. Mark was disappointed that it'll take another month for the refund to go through, but when I told him about the conversation he got over it.

Actual exchange:

Mark: Isn't this the same IRS who takes all everyone's money and homes and makes them kill themselves?

Me: Presumably. At least that's the number I dialed.

Apparently all those suicides got the message across after all.

I read a lot of John Corvino's Debating Same-Sex Marriage, with Maggie Gallagher, while I waited. Corvino was excellent across the board, but Gallagher was too confused and nonsensical to get all the way through. It's like even she knows she doesn't have a case, other than I DON'T LIKE IT, but hopes that if she says enough words no one else will notice.

So now I'm reading Spider by Patrick McGrath, suggested by [profile] birdgirl_1107. Only not at night because it's creepy and I think it'll get worse. The writing is excellent, but Spider has a deep, dark mind.

The boys are working tomorrow so Russ and I won't get our pre-concert naps. I possibly could if I time it properly and am able to crawl into bed before they get home. It's iffy, though. I might not try. If I don't take my evening meds on time, I can stay awake. Although probably I can stay awake for the Gin Blossoms no matter what.
little_tristan: (Fireworks)
Like many other members of Romney's 47% of Democrats guaranteed to vote for Obama to get handouts, we still had to go to bed on time so the boys could go to work today. The numbers weren't looking good when we turned off the tv. I missed all my evening shows to watch the coverage and it was very scary. I even forgot to tweet clever things about it after a while. And surprised myself by remembering after I was in bed that I hadn't written my MiniNaNo quota. Or even thought about it at all after the East Coast polls started closing.

I'd have got up and finished somehow if I could have done without bothering Mark. As it is I just settled in with the CNN website on my phone. They had a very nice little graphic page showing the electoral totals, and the returns from battleground states.* It was too intense refreshing the page constantly and watching Wisconsin swing in the wind, so I alternated reading Douglas Adams in the Kindle app.** I was able to finish The Restaurant at the End of the Universe and make decent headway in Life, the Universe, and Everything.

About five minutes after checking CNN for the last time, fireworks starting going off up the street. I switched back and saw that President Obama had passed 270, meaning I could finally sleep. Mark had asked me not to wake him up unless I really couldn't contain myself, so I meant not to bother him. Fortunately(?) the fireworks woke him for me. Honestly, I think he slept better after that, too.

Today I must actually write. I'm feeling somewhat failurey for punting yesterday and consoling myself with the idea that it must have been a good excuse. Over the last three months or so I've gotten better at thinking about things. I've entirely stopped staring blankly at walls for hours at a stretch missing mom.*** My brain is still too crowded, but most of the important thoughts get to the front for roll call on time. So it's noteworthy that I must be writing something didn't even pop in to say goodbye before shoving off for the day. Possibly it knocked and GOBama, GOBama didn't answer. I'll be sure to have a word with both of them after I take care of smoke, smoke, smoke, who is really getting up my nose at the moment.

This morning I found this man who said some words about infinity. My non-writing project for the day will be trying to figure out why anyone on YouTube would dislike him.

*I still think that reporters must've been paid for each use of the word battleground. I also hope that ambulances were standing by near college campuses to assist students playing battleground shots, as they were all quite likely comatose by 5 pm Pacific.

**It really is nice having a phone, a computer, and two well-lit books in bed without taking up much space. Imagine trying that twenty years ago. It would have been terrible for Mr. Sloane who, being a cat, is obligated to block access to everything at once.

***I still miss her, but now I can multi-task it. It's sort of a continuous low hum in the back of my mind, rather than a great grey emptiness that swallows all other thoughts. So that's a break.
little_tristan: (Saints1)
I've stopped having the recurring nightmare about the strange houses. Other nightmares are taking its place, but they aren't nearly as bad. This is a good thing.

Last night Steve experimented with a new pork chop recipe and now I don't feel very good. Not sick, just odd. It might be some kind of heartburn (or pork overdose). It feels like pressure from the middle of my sternum to the base of my throat but it never started burning. Hopefully it'll go away soon. It's pool day.

Nature Noir is a really good book. I bought it under the impression that Jordan Smith was a woman, but eventually the author says that it was right and just but bad for his career when the park services started making up quotas of women and minorities. Several chapters after reading that, I still picture a woman. There's no mention of girlfriends or wives, no subtle sexism, no comments at all about women rangers being less able or less useful in the parks. In a lot of ways he writes like a woman, too. Way more nature porn than you usually get outside of actual poetry. Now I wonder if he's gay. I think I'd like gay ranger stories.

Steve's got me watching Criminal Minds. That might become my new fandom. I'm developing a bit of a Reid/Morgan thing already. Turns out I didn't used to watch it because it used to have Mandy Patinkin and I avoid him on principle. His face annoys me. Also his name. But we haven't seen any of his episodes on A&E yet so I don't care. I'll be getting them on DVD soon to catch up, but it'll be okay. I know he won't be there long.

I need more purple beaded jewelry. That's just an observation. But it's true.
little_tristan: (Moo)
In other news, my phone is fixed! Probably! We watched the video of the guy repairing one about 15 times, not counting the numerous spot rewinds to find a nearly invisible screw or attempt to identify the thing that, in the video, springs out when he releases a screw and flies out of the shot. It takes the guy less than six minutes to totally disassemble the phone and replace the part, whereas it took us three hours. Counting the time spent peeling a circuit tape off the broken speaker module and attaching it to the new one. Luckily the problem was something other than the circuits. What are the odds?

But at the end of the three hours, we had 5 leftover screws, two tiny parts that didn't appear in the video (and which Mark couldn't recall taking out), and, somehow, a working phone! It was fairly astounding. Net result? This morning we awoke once again to the sound of a flock of ducks passing through our room.

I've finished reading When Jesus Became God and am now immersed in Misquoting Jesus. It's utterly fascinating. I couldn't have read these things two or three or ten years ago. I tried The Lost Books of the Bible back in 2004 but it produced some major anxiety attacks and I had to quit. (Ow, my faith!) Now that I'm not as clear on just who I should be listening to, I'm actively enjoying the search for answers. There's so much to read and so many possible outcomes!

In the midst of all this reading, I learned a new word: MAJUSCULE! It's, like, the opposite of minuscule, and that's awesome. I'm going to be using it a lot.

Still, in spite of my new open mindedness, I have to go on record as saying that Mel Gibson, Dan Brown, and everyone involved in The Last Temptation of Christ can continue to suck it. People have already made up enough shit. Let's try to get the textual ambiguities nailed down before we go ahead and reinterpret them for the purpose of warfare.

I just realized that the really cute guy on Criminal Minds (Reed?) seems familiar because he sounds like a young Wil Wheaton.

Yesterday Wunderground promised me an 11 hour thunderstorm. It never happened. They promised it again today, but it's already late. Am I to have no lightning at all this year? Sigh.

Thunder would have been appropriate for when I was doing Russell's taxes. He owes this year, for the first time ever. That does not bode well for Mark and me. I get to meet with our accountant tomorrow and am not optimistic. But Cousin Heather is coming over to drive me (otherwise I'd have to settle for being groped by the pervy driver of the "special" bus), and we'll probably have a good time first.

Maybe Steve will lighten up and talk to her. I love all my men, but, bless their hearts, their combined emotional maturity rating is still less than Ranger's. And he's the worst, because he hurts my feelings, I get sad, and then he feels too guilty to ever speak to me again, which hurts my feelings even more.

I've decided we need a Feelings Handbook. A MAJUSCULE one with footnotes, cross-references, a thorough index, and helpful tips on "What to Do After You've Been a Dick", with separate sections for deliberate and accidental dickishness. It would be almost as long as the combined "Shut Up, I Do NOT Have PMS" and "Okay, I Totally Had PMS Last Week" sections.

Russell can write the chapter on how to tune me out when I start talking. That will cut way back on incidents of accidental dickishness.
little_tristan: (Book Reading)
Now that you've seen all the books I've read, here are the ones I loved the most. Note: I usually only do new books for these lists, but I repeated so much this year that a couple are books I'd read before. They were still among the best reading of last year, though.

Now on with the list:

1. True Grit by Charles Portis Unlike either of the movies that bear its name, but much closer to the recent Coen brothers film than the old John Wayne version, but I love them both. I love them all. Apparently there is no wrong way to tell this story.

2. Cinderella Ate My Daughter by Peggy Orenstein A look at how toys and entertainment target little girls in an effort to convince them that they must be pink and frilly and princessy at all times, at all costs, and above all NOT SMART. Because self-absorbed little girls are the best market ever when it comes to selling a lot of crap that no one actually needs. And Disney is largely to blame.

3. Divine Misfortune by A. Lee Martinez Magical, other-worldly fiction in which every god ever believed in actually exists and is available to worship in exchange for his/her/its special favor. Chaos ensues.

4. For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow is Enuf by Ntozake Shange An epic poem centered around the troubled lives of Black women in the 70s. But still applicable today.

5. Devil's Knot by Mara Leveritt The story of the West Memphis 3--three teenagers convicted of murdering 3 little boys in West Memphis TN, one of them sentenced to death and the other two to life in prison, in a sham of a trial and with no real evidence beyond the prejudice of a heartbroken town. In between the reading of the book and the compiling of this list, the conviction was overturned (with conditions) and the three men released after 18 years in prison.

6. Flow: The Cultural Story of Menstruation by Elissa Stein and Susan Kim Pretty much what it sounds like, but there was a lot I didn't know and very few writers are willing to take on the subject. These writers did it with humor and grace, while leaving nothing out.

7. Liquor by Poppy Z. Brite A love story about two men and their New Orleans restaurant.

8. The Red Tree by Caitlin Kiernan Crazy writer goes crazy in spooky house near tree of evil.

9. Blackwater by Michael McDowell A novel in six parts detailing the decades long internal battles of a powerful family in a small Alabama town. One member of which is secretly some sort of lizard creature who has powers beyond those of buying and selling their fellow townspeople.

10. Cowboys edited by Tom Graham A collection of beautiful, plotty, porny, short stories about men who love men. Actually, two of the stories I thought were unbearably awful, but they were both by the same author and the rest of the book more than made up for them.
little_tristan: (Books)
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Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell

No Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy

Black Women in White America by Gerda Lerner
little_tristan: (Kindle)
It's difficult to say exactly what kind of book this is, and that's part of why I love it so much. It starts out with Jean Paget inheriting a small fortune, in her eyes, at least, and trying to figure out the most reasonable thing to do with it. She has a decent job for a young woman in post-WWII England, but it's not exactly profound work. And after what she's been through the past few years, she wants to do something more important than take shorthand in a shoe and handbag factory.

She tells the attorney handling the estate about her experiences in Malay (I assume this is Malaysia, although Shute never uses that name) during the war, where she had also been doing secretarial work. Jean is trying to get to Singapore with the rest of the civilians when the Japanese capture them and send the men to a prison camp. The women are told that they were going to a different camp, just a short walk away. No big deal, they're assured. Easy walks, no more than they can manage in a day. But what's easy for Japanese soldiers is a death march for a group of middle aged English women who are used to relying on servants and now have to carry their children, as well as everything they own, across the Malay Peninsula.
More synopsis and probably spoilers behind the cut... )
little_tristan: (Kindle)
Mary Fisher lives in the High Tower by the sea. She's blond and rich and tiny and beautiful and she gets everything she wants. Or everything she thinks she wants. When she decides she wants Robert "Bobbo" Patchett, she gets him. But Bobbo comes with strings attached, and Mary is in over her head almost from the moment they meet.

Ruth Patchett is an unusual woman. Nearly six feet tall, broad of shoulder and thick of--well--everything, she's nobody's idea of physical perfection. Least of all her own. Ruth has no illusions about herself, though. All of her illusions are reserved for her husband, whom she believes loves her. She knows he sleeps with other women, Bobbo thinks honesty is the most important thing so he tells her whenever he falls for someone new, but he always comes home to her and she thinks that matters. It doesn't.

Bobbo, an avaricious philanderer with an adding machine for a heart, thinks he can have whatever he wants and no one will get hurt. He believes in logic, but only his own. Logically, if he tells Ruth he's seeing another woman, he was honest and that makes it okay. She has no right to be hurt because he wasn't in love when they married. But she was. If he ever knew that, he didn't care then and he doesn't now. Not now that he has Mary Fisher on the side. His life is perfect, with Ruth and the children at home in the suburbs making him look like the perfect family man and Mary in the converted light house, writing her romance novels and being the perfect mistress.

Until Bobbo pushes Ruth too far. His logical honesty doesn't extend to his parents, and when she stands up to him in front of them, revealing his affairs and her own unhappiness, he snaps and walks out on her. It looks like his victory, taking all the money, giving her a pittance for an allowance and leaving her with the kids, but he makes a fatal mistake. On the way out the door, he tells her she's not a woman at all--she's a She Devil. And in that concept Ruth finally finds her power.

A She Devil doesn't have to be honest. She doesn't have to care about people's feelings, or even their lives. She can have and do whatever she wants, because she is a devil. And with that new knowledge firmly in mind, Ruth begins to systematically dismantle both Mary and Bobbo's lives. Along the way, she takes down some secretaries, a few of Bobbo's clients, and guides a similarly misfit nurse into a life of lesbianism and adoptive motherhood. And then she makes medical history with a series of cosmetic surgeries that have never been done before and that she probably shouldn't have been able to survive.

This is not a happy book, yet it makes me happy to read it. It's not a funny book, but it makes me laugh. Ruth isn't a sympathetic character--in fact, she scares the hell out of me--but I love her and want the best for her. Some of her choices seem questionable at best and an affront to God and nature at worst (and her worst is pretty bad), but it seems to give her satisfaction, if not actual happiness. I don't think she can ever really be happy, because she is a She Devil and devils aren't a happy race, but she does get what she wants. And, unlike the unfortunate Mary Fisher who is probably the only real victim in the story (except maybe Ruth's children), she's totally on top of the situation. Maybe it's her height, but one gets the idea that Ruth, after she discovers her inner devil, is never in over her head again.
little_tristan: (Dancing)
John Rickey and Gary "G-Man" Stubbs, life-long residents of New Orleans, are partners in every sense of the word. They were best friends as children, became lovers at sixteen, and now they're chefs, always looking for a good kitchen where they can work together. But jobs like that are hard to find, at least in the kind of places they'd like to work. And then Rickey gets an idea. People in New Orleans like to eat. A lot. And maybe the one thing they like better than eating is drinking. So what could be better than a menu where every dish, from appetizers to dessert, involves liquor? After trying it out at a small bar, they meet a backer who thinks they should have their own restaurant. And that's where the fun starts.

Between Rickey's paranoia, and the fact that his old boss--an equally paranoid coke-head with a troubled family history--really is out to get him, and some questionable activities on the part of their backer, Gary isn't sure this deal is really worth it. But Rickey wants his own place, he wants to be the boss, and what Rickey wants, Gary wants for him.

When it isn't being a mystery, a tour guide, or a seafood lover's wet dream, this is really a very sweet romance. That's what drew me in to begin with, having read the prequel The Value of X and been promised by my book guru, [ profile] oddmonster, that the rest of the series was even better. And it is the perfect kind of romance. Rickey and G are so comfortable with each other, so established and in sync, that it's like a peek into a great marriage--sweet and cooperative and still kinda spicy. And, unlike virtually every other book I've read with an m/m relationship, no one cheats. That's a huge plus. But what really sucked me into the book and kept me there past my bedtime two nights in a row was the restaurant action. Which is weird, because I don't cook, I have a very narrow and pedestrian taste in food, and I would never eat any of the things they so lovingly prepare and serve to their adoring customers. (Except possibly the coffee cake and chocolate mousse. I think there was a mousse in there somewhere.) Yet it's so well-written and fascinatingly described, I couldn't get enough. Luckily, due to my complete ignorance on the subject, I was reading it on Kindle and was able to look up all the specific terminology as I went. It saved all kinds of trouble.

The really good news? There are still two books in the series.
little_tristan: (Kindle)
This is a really aptly titled book, because I think Ann Heche might be crazy. She certainly was, and we have only her word that she's recovered her sanity, but she thought she was sane before, too. When she thought she was Jesus, when she was walking through the desert looking for the spaceship that was to take her to heaven--she was perfectly rational about all these things.

But. Whatever her mental state might be, she wrote a hell of a great book. It centers mostly around the subject of her childhood of hyper-religion, sex abuse and denial. Her father was a shadowy figure in his children's lives, always jetting off to work in New York at jobs that he never explained and that never brought in any money. Even his wife was clueless as to how he was buying the plane tickets. Well, he wasn't. His gay lovers were paying his way and his wife's cluelessness is pretty obviously deliberate. She doesn't take Anne to a doctor when she's an infant and breaks out with herpes on her face, nor does she attach any particular importance to the "diaper rash" that's so severe she can no longer actually wear diapers. She's a good Christian wife who obeys her husband without question, no matter what. Even when one of her daughters dies, apparently. It's just one of those things.
Cut for possibly triggering descriptions of child abuse )
little_tristan: (BBT Penny Now You've Got It)
Even textbooks and gynecological literature make menstruation seem so, well, dweeby and passive, that what's actually going on, far from being the dynamic, incredibly complex process it is, is instead vaguely pathetic. We are left with the impression that the sad-sack uterus (pun intended) has once again not been asked to the pregnancy prom, so it just stays at home and lets it all go--that menstruation is, essentially, a lame combination of inertia and failure.

If this is how you see your period, past or present, or you need some fun facts to liven up your friends', then you need to read this book. Actually, I think everyone needs to read this book. It's lively and fun--yes fun--and I was disappointed when it ended. Kindle said it was at 88% and I was really excited about having so much still to read, but the last 12% turned out to be notes and bibliographies and such. Because this fact filled book is annotated within an inch of its life, backing it all up with sources you can check.
Click here to find out why it's headed for my Top 10 list )
little_tristan: (Kindle)
This past weekend, I read all three of the so-called Siddalee Walker novels back to back. I've read the first two, Little Alters Everywhere, and Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood multiple times and really enjoyed them. The third, Ya-Yas in Bloom, disappointed me badly the first time, so I read it again to remind myself why, and maybe see something in it that I missed the first time. Alas, it was even worse than I'd feared.
A quick rundown of the novels in question... )
little_tristan: (Kindle)
Nerd Do Well: A Small Boy's Journey to Becoming a Big Kid by Simon Pegg )

Devil's Knot by Mara Leveritt )

Dave Barry Talks Back by Dave Barry )

The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides )

I also read Microserfs by Douglas Coupland for the third time in 18 months and still adore it (although the Kindle version is riddled with typos, some quite serious, like rendering the thought provoking new word interiority as inferiority; however, I recently got an email saying that there was a newly repaired edition of the single volume Lord of the Rings set that I bought months ago, and it downloaded for free the next time I connected, replacing the error-laden first copy--so, because Microserfs is brand new and they were rushing to get it out, I have hope that user complaints will get us a fixed edition soon). Wow, that was a long sentence. Sorry.


little_tristan: (Default)

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