Last weekend, between Fun Home at Victory Gardens (highly recommended) — and Machinal at the Greenhouse Theatre Center (excellent but now closed), we visited the bookstore pictured above. It’s even cooler in person. Reading notes To celebrate Banned Books Week, I reread Kurt Vonnegut’s Cat’s Cradle, a book I first read thirty years ago; I am happy to report that it holds up. Although I am still behind on the Sonnets, I am keeping up with the rest of the "Shakespeare in a Year" schedule, having finished Antony and Cleopatra over the weekend. The only other book I’ve completed since my last post is You by Caroline Kepnes, which was not quite as graphic as I had feared. In anticipation of seeing Steppenwolf’s The Crucible, I have chosen to read Stacy Schiff’s Witches instead of rereading Miller’s play (which I love and have all but memorized).

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Sending encouragement to your daughter and you.

Since my Week 36 BaW post, I have, among other things, seen the Ivo van Hove-directed A View from the Bridge at the Goodman (get there, if you can), visited my daughters, taken three flute lessons, (nearly) finished four weeks at my new job, and completed six books: ■Timon of Athens (William Shakespeare; 1605. Drama.) ■Macbeth (William Shakespeare; 1606. Drama.) ■Do Not Become Alarmed (Maile Meloy; 2017. Fiction.) ■Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal? (Jeanette Winterson; 2012. Non-fiction.) ■Carrying the Elephant (Michael Rosen; 2002. Poetry.) ■War and Peace (Leo Tolstoy; 1869. (Trans. L. and A. Maude; Everyman’s Library; 1992.) Fiction.) This puts me at 120 books read in 2017. The plays, both rereads, represent my Shakespeare in a Year progress. I plan to read Sonnets 112 through 120 and the related commentary between now and Sunday evening, which should catch me up. From Macbeth, which is one of my favorite of the plays: Act IV, Scene ii Be comforted: Let's make us medicines of our great revenge, To cure this deadly grief. Seven years ago, I pressed my copy of Maile Meloy's Both Ways Is the Only Way I Want It on someone, promising beautiful prose and original storytelling. I regretted it almost instantly, and I really regretted it a few years later when the same someone mentioned the book in conversation, "Have you read it?" she asked. "It's pretty good." Um, yes, I read it. The copy you just finished, in fact. And, "pretty good" seems pretty inadequate, but okay. "Mmmm..." I replied, and reminded myself, again, not to give my books away. Pass them to my children, sell them, donate them, yes. But give them away? Not anymore, I don't. Anyway, while I readily concede that Do Not Become Alarmed does not cast the same spell as Both Ways, it is as impossible to put down as Fierce Kingdom (Gin Phillips), which I read last month, so, recommended. As I mentioned last time, I reread Fun Home (Alison Bechdel) in anticipation of seeing the Victory Gardens production. I had a notion that Jeanette Winterson's memoir would make a neat pairing, and I was a little right -- and a little wrong. Here are my remaining commonplace book entries for Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal? p. 140 I did not realise that when money becomes the core value, then education drives towards utility or that the life of the mind will not be counted as a good unless it produces measurable results. That public services will no longer be important. That an alternative life to getting and spending will become very difficult as cheap housing disappears. That when communities are destroyed only misery and intolerance are left. p. 144 There's a lot of talk about the tame world versus the wild world. It is not only a wild nature that we need as human beings; it is the untamed open space of our imaginations. Reading is where the wild things are. p. 170 And extremes -- whether of dullness or fury -- successfully prevent feeling. I know our feelings can be so unbearable that we employ ingenious strategies -- unconscious strategies -- to keep those feelings away. We do a feelings-swap, where we avoid feeling sad or lonely or afraid or inadequate, and feel angry instead. It can work the other way, too -- sometimes you do need to feel angry, not inadequate; sometimes you do need to feel love and acceptance, and not the tragic drama of your life. It takes courage to feel the feeling -- and not trade it on the feelings-exchange, or even transfer it altogether to another person. Michal Rosen's Sad Book, illustrated by Quentin Blake, is quite possibly the most accurate depiction of sorrow and grief I have ever read. I cannot tell you how many times I have thought to send Rosen a postcard that simply says, "Yes. Thank you." This week, I read Carrying the Elephant, his collection of prose poems. Again, "Yes. Thank you." p. 48 ... Yes, it is unfair and cruel. It also makes me tired with a tiredness that hangs on like a dog. It's nice of you to say you'll always remember him. You won't. p. 50 ... You see me and you cry, you're overwhelmed. You ask me how it's possible for me to carry on. I wonder if I look like someone who looks like it's possible to carry on. And, as I wrote earlier this morning, I have finished reading War and Peace. Here are the remaining commonplace book entries: Book Three, Chapter 25 As often happens with passionate people, he was mastered by anger but was still seeking an object on which to vent it. Book Four, Chapter 13 This was his acknowledgment of the impossibility of changing a man's convictions by words, and his recognition of the possibility of everyone thinking, feeling, and seeing things each from his own point of view. This legitimate peculiarity of each individual, which used to excite and irritate Pierre, now became a basis of the sympathy he felt for, and the interest he took in other people. The difference, and sometimes complete contradiction, between men's opinions and their lives, between one man and another, pleased him and evoked from him an amused and gentle smile. Next up? It's hard to say. Last night, I grabbed a thriller. After the "heavy" reading and work and the yard chores (yeah, I decided to mow and rake when I got home), You (Caroline Kepnes) seemed right. The thing is, I have a feeling that this is going to become graphic in a way that my post-fifty self no longer tolerates well, so I may be in search of something else before day's end. On a related (sort of) note: My husband and I have only two episodes of Jon Ronson's The Butterfly Effect remaining. We were already Ronson fans (The Psychopath Test, So You've Been Publicly Shamed), so this podcast (free to Prime and Audible customers) interested us. Although Ronson navigates an X-rated world, the podcast is never more than R-rated. Here's Ronson's description: It's sad, funny, moving and totally unlike some other nonfiction stories about porn - because it isn't judgmental or salacious. It's human and sweet and strange and lovely. It's a mystery story, an adventure. It's also, I think, a new way of telling a story. This season follows a single butterfly effect. The flap of the butterfly's wings is a boy in Brussels having an idea. His idea is how to get rich from giving the world free online porn. Over seven episodes I trace the consequences of this idea, from consequence through to consequence. If you keep going in this way, where might you end up? It turns out you end up in the most surprising and unexpected places.

Mission accomplished! Finished War and Peace on Tuesday night. I chose the three-volume Everyman’s Library edition (Maude translation) and persuaded my husband to join me in the challenge. And here we are! Thank you, Robin!

My daughters, 19 and 21, are both seniors now. In fact, the older daughter is at her senior portrait appointment as I type this. Her major is psychology, but she also studies organ as a non-music major. Her sister's major is physics (minor, math). Both are in the honors program, and both were retained by their research groups through the summer and for this academic year. The psych major contributes to a lab that researches, among other things, the cognitive benefits of leisure and lifelong learning in aging populations. The physics major works with a high-energy physics group that collaborates on the ATLAS Experiment at CERN. The physics major earned a merit scholarship for her German studies, which was an unexpected and delightful surprise, so we will attend a celebration at the university later this fall. She was also awarded a CA/TA position in computer science.

Hello, BaWers! Since my last post, I’ve moved my daughters back to university; received two offers so delightful that I rethought my ideas about “retirement†and accepted one; survived a particularly nasty bout of food poisoning; and finished the following books: ■The Followers (Rebecca Wait; 2015. Fiction.) ■Hamlet (William Shakespeare; 1602. Drama.) ■The Grip of It (Jac Jemc; 2017. Fiction.) ■Measure for Measure (William Shakespeare; 1604. Drama.) ■The Marriage Pact (Michelle Richmond; 2017. Fiction.) ■Fierce Kingdom (Gin Phillips; 2017. Fiction.) ■Fun Home (Alison Bechdel; 2006. Graphic memoir.) ■Othello (William Shakespeare; 1603. Drama.) If you liked last summer’s The Girls (Emma Cline), and I did, you may appreciate The Followers, a difficult story told well. The Grip of It offers a literary twist on the haunted house genre. The Marriage Pact passed an amiable summer afternoon despite its pedestrian prose and improbable plotting. Fierce Kingdom, however, managed something special. This beautifully written and almost recklessly fast-paced thriller is destined for big-screen treatment. p. 17 In a year he will be in kindergarten and these days of superheroes will fade and be replaced by something she can’t guess, and then at some point the zoo itself will be replaced and life will have gone on and this boy holding her hand will have turned into someone else entirely. p. 160 She does not know when she started imagining the end of things. It’s possible that turning forty triggered it or that Lincoln triggered it from the moment he began changing from a baby into a boy and she realized how he was going to vanish, over and over again, until finally he was grown and gone, and it’s possible she has such dark thoughts precisely because there is nothing she wants more than for life to stay exactly as it is, never changing, and maybe she loves it all the more because she knows it can’t last. p. 165 You are supposed to be more forgiving of your parents, aren’t you, after you have children yourself? After you understand what parenting really means? The Bechdel memoir (an exquisite, smart book I devoured and pressed on all who would listen when it was first published more than a decade ago) was a reread: We will see the Victory Gardens production later this month. The plays, all rereads, represent some of my Shakespeare in a Year progress. (Yes, I had planned to substitute a Hamlet-inspired novel, but my daughters and I ended up revisiting the play before they finished moving back to university. Still, The Dead Fathers Club (Matthew Haig), a book that has been on my shelves since 2006 may (finally!) end up on this year’s list.) I have also reached Sonnet 111 and pushed Sir Thomas More down the list a bit. War and Peace remains so compelling that I have already finished the reading for Weeks 12 and 13. From Book Three, Part Two, Chapter 10: He had managed people for a long time, and knew that the chief way to make them obey is to show no suspicion that they can possibly disobey. And now I’m reading Jeanette Winterson’s Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal? p. 8 When we tell a story we exercise control, but in such a way as to leave a gap, an opening. It is a version, but never the final one. And perhaps we hope that the silences will be heard by someone else, and the story can continue, can be retold. When we write we offer the silence as much as the story. Words are the part of story that can be spoken.

Hello, BaWers! When my younger daughter and I embarked on our plan to (re)read The Odyssey before she returns to campus later this month, we agreed to tackle five or six of the epic’s books per week. We soon became so engrossed, however, that we finished weeks ahead of our schedule. We read the much-admired Fagles translation, and it was fine. An ardent Stephen Mitchell fan, I would have preferred his translation, but it is, inexplicably, unavailable in audiobook. I read the Fagles translation to the accompaniment of none other than Sir Ian McKellen, yet I pined for Alfred Molina reading Mitchell. Here are my commonplace book entries: Book Seven I’m just a mortal man. Whom do you know most saddled down with sorrow? They are the ones I’d equal, grief for grief. And I could tell a tale of still more hardship, all I’ve suffered, thanks to the gods’ will. But despite my misery, let me finish dinner. The belly’s a shameless dog, there’s nothing worse. Always insisting, pressing, it never lets us forget — destroyed as I am, my heart racked with sadness, sick with anguish, still it keeps demanding, ‘Eat, drink!’ It blots out all the memory of my pain, commanding, ‘Fill me up!’ Book Eight With a dark glance wily Odysseus shot back, “Indecent talk, my friend. You, you’re a reckless fool – I see that. So, the gods don’t hand out all their gifts at once, not build and brains and flowing speech to all….†Book Eighteen [N]otorious for his belly, a ravenous, bottomless pit for food and drink…. Book Twenty So surrender to sleep at last. What a misery, keeping watch through the night, wide awake – you’ll soon come up from under all your troubles. It’s wildly optimistic of us, but now we are hoping to read The Scarlet Letter (Nathaniel Hawthorne) before she leaves. Also filed under “W†(for “Wildly Optimisticâ€) is the copy of Persuasion in the haphazard stack pictured above. Last month, when a flurry of news items appeared about the Jane Austen bicentenary, I determined that it would be the Austen novel I would most enjoy revisiting. RE: War and Peace: I have already finished the reading for both this week and next. Here are commonplace book entries for Weeks 6 through 9: Book Two, Part Three, Chapter 7 At that meeting he was struck for the first time by the endless variety of men’s minds, which prevents a truth from ever presenting itself identically to two persons. Book Two, Part Five, Chapter 1 It was too dreadful to be under the burden of these insoluble problems, so he abandoned himself to any distraction in order to forget them. He frequented every kind of society, drank much, bought pictures, engaged in building, and above all – read. He read, and read everything that came to hand. On coming home, while his valets were still taking off his things, he picked up a book and began to read. Book Two, Part Five, Chapter 9 She could not follow the opera nor even listen to the music, she saw only the painted cardboard and the queerly dressed men and women who moved, spoke, and sang so strangely in that brilliant light. She knew what it was all meant to represent, but it was so pretentiously false and unnatural that she first felt ashamed for the actors and then amused at them. She looked at the faces of the audience, seeking in them the same sense of ridicule and perplexity she herself experienced, but they all seemed attentive to what was happening on the stage, and expressed delight which to Natasha seemed feigned. ‘I suppose it has to be like this!’ she thought. Book Three, Part One, Chapter 1 There are two sides to the life of every man, his individual life which is the more free the more abstract its interests, and his elemental swarm-life in which he inevitably obeys laws laid down for him. I have made progress in the “Shakespeare in a Year†project, too. Last weekend, I reread As You Like It and Twelfth Night. How fascinating to encounter Rosalind and Viola again, one right after the other. From Act II, Scene 7, of As You Like It: Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy: This wide and universal theatre Presents more woeful pageants than the scene Wherein we play in. Yesterday, I finished Troilus and Cressida, which, like Titus Andronicus, was new to me. Unlike Titus, though, Troilus was a chore to read. An uneven, clunky play, it provided little readerly joy beyond the unanticipated tie-in to the discussions we’ve been having about The Iliad and The Odyssey. I have not yet decided when and where to squeeze Sir Thomas More into my schedule, nor have I decided what to do about Hamlet, a play I’ve read and seen more (many more) than a few times. Earlier in the project, I chose Howard Jacobson’s Shylock Is My Name over rereading The Merchant of Venice, and I am considering a similar substitution for Hamlet. The novel Hamlet, Prince of Denmark (A. J. Hartley and David Hewson) is the chief contender, although… I wonder if I could count Withnail and I (Bruce Robinson). Hmmm…. Other bookish bits: I have already mentioned our Moby Dick reread. Perhaps if I begin posting my commonplace book entries, those of you who have maintained a “No way!†stance on the the White Whale may be persuaded to try it. *smile* The Broken Ladder is my follow-up to Dream Hoarders, which I wrote about in my last BaW post, and the other books in the image above are either recently acquired or awaiting reshelving.

Hello, BaWers! War and Peace is so compelling that I have already finished the reading for Weeks 6 and 7. I have not made as much progress in the “Shakespeare in a Year†project, however: I’ve read through Sonnet 106 but must still (re)read As You Like It. Speaking of the sonnets, I love this from Sonnet 104: To me, fair friend, you can never be old; For as you were when first your eye I eyed, Such seems your beauty still…. It has been a week, but “The Drowned Girl†from Joyce Carol Oates’ new collection, Dis Mem Ber continues to haunt me, and not simply because of its true-crime inspiration. Rather, I remain deeply unsettled by the insightful depiction of students marginalized by “alternate route†admission programs for transfer and / or non-traditional students. Dream Hoarders (Richard V. Reeves) has also unsettled me (and sent me off to the shelves for Keith Payne’s The Broken Ladder). Reeves’ discussion of internships and other unpaid opportunities for students was particularly uncomfortable: My older daughter works twenty-plus hours per week as an summer intern. Yes, it’s an unpaid internship, but it’s also a priceless opportunity in a competitive (if wildly underpaid) field, where entry-level positions require both education and experience. She and my younger daughter, both undergraduate research assistants, were also asked to continue their projects over the summer, and although one daughter was, quite unexpectedly, offered funding, the other was not. (She did, however, earn a scholarship for achievement in non-major coursework, which had the effect of making the unpaid research seem less… indulgent? privileged? dream-hoarder-like?) Earning an undergraduate research position, especially at a such a large university, where so many capable students vie for so few spots, well, that’s quite an achievement, one that yields the experience, the letters of recommendation, the opportunities to contribute to publications and to present at conferences that make a student a more desirable graduate school applicant and / or jobseeker. So why would any parent say, “No� And that’s the problem, maintains Reeves. It’s unfair that some students can accept unpaid opportunities while other students cannot. It’s particularly unfair, he continues, that some students have, through their parents' professional and social networks, access to opportunities, paid and unpaid. Talk about a challenging read! Here are my commonplace book entries: p.3 There is one good reason why many Americans feel as if the upper middle class is leaving everyone else behind: They are. Americans in the top fifth of the income distribution – broadly, households with incomes above the $112,000 mark – are separating from the rest. This separation is economic, visible in bank balances and salaries. But it can also be seen in education, family structure, health and longevity, even in civic and community life. The economic gap is just the most vivid sign of a deepening class divide. p. 15 The big question is whether we are willing to make some modest sacrifices in order to expand opportunities for others or whether, deep down, we would rather pull up the ladder. p. 54 The debate over college debt is lively and largely misplaced. It is lively because almost everyone involved in public discourse – scholars, journalists, politicians – went to college and has children who have done or will do so. (Almost every member of Congress has a college degree.) It is misplaced because the real problem in American higher education is not about debt, but distribution and quality. The debt problem is for people from poorer backgrounds who borrow to attend bad colleges. p. 97 Discrimination on the basis of social class — what we call snobbery in the old country — is largely unacknowledged. Even Americans highly sensitive to the risks of sexism or racism often engage in classism, unaware that they are doing so. In other bookish news… my younger daughter and I are (re)reading The Odyssey and listening to Elizabeth Vandiver’s wonderful lectures; I am enjoying a flurry of graphic works (more later); and the “twist†in Final Girls (Riley Sager) is no twist. At. All.

Eliana. So happy to type your name here that I will do it again. Eliana. Stay. You're on the best couch in the virtual living room.

You look spectacular! Enjoy the new style!

Has anyone recommended Fresh Wave? It's all natural and AMAZING. It comes in several forms, including spray, gel, and a laundry additive. A little gel or spray goes much further than a great deal of Febreze. And the if he simply puts the uniform in a bag or basket with the gel tub until he can get to the washing machine, the tub can be resused.

Hello! Here are my Week Three commonplace book entries from War and Peace: p. 178 ‘One step beyond that boundary line which resembles the line dividing the living from the dead, lies uncertainty, suffering, and death. And what is there? Who is there? — there beyond that field, that tree, that roof lit up by the sun? No one knows, but one wants to know. You fear and yet long to cross that line, and know that sooner or later it must be crossed and you will have to find out what is there, just as you will inevitably have to learn what lies on the other side of death. But you are strong, healthy, cheerful, and excited, and are surrounded by other such excitedly-animated and health men.’ So thinks, or at any rate, feels, anyone who comes in sight of the enemy, and that feeling gives a particular glamour and glad keenness of impression to everything that takes place at such moments. p. 207 ‘… Go back or I’ll flatten you into a pancake,’ repeated he. This expression evidently pleased him. p. 299 Her son’s growth towards manhood at each of its stages had seemed as extraordinary to her as if there had never existed the millions of human beings who grew up in the same way. p. 306 Besides, to tell everything as it really happened it would have been necessary to make an effort to tell only what happened. It is very difficult to tell the truth, and young people are rarely capable of it. And here are my Week Four entries: p. 448 There was no answer to any of these questions, except one, and that not a logical answer and not at all a reply to them. The answer was: ‘You’ll die and all will end. You’ll die and know all, or cease asking.’ But dying was also dreadful. p. 451 Your view of life is a regrettable delusion. I continue to progress in the “Shakespeare in a Year†project, too, making adjustments that suit my interests and scheduling needs. For example, I have read one hundred of the Sonnets and Don Patterson’s related commentary, which is a bit ahead of the plan, but I will read As You Like It this week, which is a tiny bit behind schedule. In other reading, I finished Chang-Rae Lee’s On Such a Full Sea last night. As others have pointed out, the first-person plural viewpoint contributes to the mythic quality of the narrative, but it also obscures the protagonist a bit, which may frustrate some readers. That said, I think others who share my enthusiasm for Station Eleven (Emily St. John Mandel) will appreciate this beautifully written novel. p. 215 It’s our common character on display, which is why we invest so much of ourselves — often totally beyond reason — in particular figures and performers, both fictive and of flesh. And when that display is unsettling or notorious, we can collectively wring our hands and wail and then try to assuage the disquiet in our hearts by more coolly interrogating its antecedents, the conditions and causes of its expression, and debate about how we might curb a future recurrence, none of this cynically posed but subtly servicing the final hopeful notion that This Is Not We. p. 219 But if we calm ourselves and open our eyes and step back far enough, we have to admit that our society, if not fundamentally unwell, has been profoundly wounded. Joyce Carol Oates’ recent short fiction collection, Dis Mem Ber, was on the porch when I returned from the Faire last night. I couldn’t help myself: I read four of the seven stories before setting it down to finish On Such a Full Sea. Quick, quintessential JCO, particularly the title story. I plan to finish tonight.

Thank you for this reminder! I had meant to do this... and forgot. After reading your post yesterday, I tried to book where we usually stay. Unavailable. Tried our second and third choices. Ditto. I ended up having to make a three-night booking to get a room... in our fourth choice. The good news is (a) we have a room, and (b) I was able to use Hilton Honors points to defray the cost of one of the nights. Thank you again!

That description put me rightthere with the characters.

I'm an unapologetically promiscuous reader, so I usually have many (many, many) books in various states of read. It only becomes overwhelming when the pile becomes precarious -- then I shelve a lot of them, leaving the bookmarks in place, so I can pick up the relationship where we left off. Some day. Heh, heh, heh. When I'm feeling a little angsty (and I do, not often, but I do) about the gap between my rate of acquisition and my rate of completion, I remember this bit from Nassim Nicholas Taleb’s The Black Swan: The Impact of the Highly Improbable: The writer Umberto Eco belongs to that small class of scholars who are encyclopedic, insightful, and nondull. He is the owner of a large personal library (containing thirty thousand books), and separates visitors into two categories: those who react with “Wow! Signore professore dottore Eco, what a library you have! How many of these books have you read?†and the others — a very small minority — who get the point that a private library is not an ego-boosting appendage but a research tool. Read books are far less valuable than unread ones. The library should contain as much of what you do not know as your financial means, mortgage rates, and the currently tight real-estate market allows you to put there. You will accumulate more knowledge and more books as you grow older, and the growing number of unread books on the shelves will look at you menacingly. Indeed, the more you know, the larger the rows of unread books. Let us call this collection of unread books an antilibrary. An antilibrary! Isn't that a neat idea? To more pragmatically answer your question, certain times of day lend themselves to certain types of reading. These last few weeks, I've been reading Shakespeare's sonnets and War and Peace in the mornings, for example. If for some reason, I'm on my own for a meal, I tend to read non-fiction, but I don't know why. Wait! Yes, I do. I read non-fiction much more slowly than fiction, so I don't need to turn the pages as often, which makes it easier to eat and read. Huh. I just figured that out. Usually -- not always but usually -- I read from a novel before going to sleep, and I like reading plays and graphic works when I have short bursts of time, say, waiting for an appointment to begin or between two errands. When I work early voting, I toggle between a couple of novels and a couple of graphic works. And so on. Welcome to the group, by the way! And happy reading!

How I loved Middlemarch! My daughters (who have not yet read it) and I are hoping to make that next summer's project. And Moby Dick... That's a book that gets better and better with rereading.

Hello, BaWers! How about a mid-year review? By June 30, I had completed ninety-one books. My participation in the “Shakespeare in a Year†project accounts for twenty of those titles, and my affection for graphic works, twenty-one. Twenty-four of the ninety-one books I’ve read were published this year, and twenty-four are novels. My two perennial goals — read at least one non-fiction work every two weeks and read more poetry — usually result in much spluttering and excuse-making, but I have already finished nineteen non-fiction books this year and read ninety of Shakespeare’s 154 sonnets. Ten mid-year recommendations: ■So Long, See You Tomorrow (William Maxwell; 1980. Fiction.) As much a meditation on loss and grief as it is an exploration of memory and how memory shapes (and haunts and robs from) the present, William Maxwell’s 1980 novel is as perfect a book as A Good School or Revolutionary Road (both by Richard Yates) or Olive Kitteridge (Elizabeth Strout). ■Evicted: Poverty and Profit in the American City (Matthew Desmond; 2016. Non-fiction.) This is the sort of book everyone talks about and shares articles about but never reads. I recommend that you actually read it. ■Rhinoceros (Eugene Ionesco; 1959. Drama.) If you only remember this from high school, you haven’t really read it yet. Pull your tattered copy from the shelves and see if it isn’t something more, much more, than you recall. ■World of Trouble (Ben H. Winters; 2014. Fiction.) I’m cheating here because this is the final book in the Last Policeman trilogy, which means, yes, I am actually recommending three books. They’re not heavy, though, and Henry Palace is not simply another quirky detective; he is a character who will roam the rooms of your imagination for a long time. ■Before the Fall (Noah Hawley; 2016. Fiction.) It’s unsurprising that the flow of this “thumping good read†is reminiscent of great television; Hawley is a television writer and producer. Pack this one in your vacation bag. ■Briggs Land, Volume 1: State of Grace (Brian Wood; 2017. Graphic fiction.) I thought I was going to recommend Wood’s The Massive, Volumes 1-5, and then I remembered how strong the opening to his new series is… and how annoyed I was by the resolution of The Massive. ■Lincoln in the Bardo (George Saunders; 2017. Fiction.) Whether or not you ordinarily like audiobooks, you must hear Saunders’ first novel to appreciate how original and remarkable it is. My husband and I listened during trips to and from the University and in and out of Chicago, and we are still talking about this beautiful book. (Related article here.) Neither of us were surprised to learn that it will be a film. ■Reclaiming Conversation (Sherry Turkle; 2015. Non-fiction.) “They decide there should be a rule: A good friend should keep you off your phone when you are together.†(p. 157) Don’t miss this thought-provoking exploration of what has been lost since people turned away from each other to connect via phone. ■Fatale (Jean-Paul Manchette; 1977 (2011, English). Fiction.) In the “slim book you can finish in a day†category, I will shake things up by recommending this dark, odd character study over the other contender, News of the World (Paulette Giles), which doesn’t need my recommendation, anyway, as it has already been touted by everyone and her mother. ■American War (Omar El Akkad; 2017. Fiction.) This is my entry in the “best post-apocalypse / dystopia / it’s a mad, mad world fiction read this year (so far)†category. I know others would choose The Power (Naomi Alderman) or The Book of Joan (Lidia Yuknavitch)… but I think I’m right on this one.

I am a goof. Who doesn't recognize her own screen name? Chuckle. Okay. For the record, I am Melissa, formerly MFS of M-mv... and for a while, just M--. Thank you for including me!

Hello! I'm reading the Maude translation.

Amy, there are no words. You and yours are on my mind and in my heart.

Hello, BaWers! War and Peace has always been one of those books I hope to get to… Some day! Well, Robin and BaW have now ensured I will finish the tome by late October. Volume 1 of the three-volume Everyman’s Library edition (Maude translation) is in the middle of the stack pictured above, which means, yes, I now own yet another copy of War and Peace… well, two more, if you count the audiobook to which I am listening (at twice the recorded speed) while reading. For the commonplace book: p. 4 Prince Vasili always spoke languidly, like an actor repeating a stale part. p. 29 “If no one fought except on his own conviction, there would be no wars, “ he said. “And that would be splendid,†said Pierre. p. 71 They wept because they were friends, and because they were kind-hearted, and because they – friends from childhood – had to think about such a base thing as money, and because their youth was over…. But those tears were pleasant to them both. I am still at work on the “Shakespeare in a Year†project. In anticipation of seeing the National Theatre Live broadcast, I put Julius Caesar before Henry V; otherwise, I am on or ahead of schedule. The Sonnets remain a slog, although, at Sonnet 82, I am actually ahead of schedule. Perhaps there is no poetry in me? But, then, how I do love the plays! From Julius Caesar, Act IV, Scene iii: “All this� Ay, more. Fret till your proud heart break. Go show your slaves how choleric you are And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge? Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch Under your testy humor? By the gods, You shall digest the venom of your spleen, Though it do split you. For from this day forth, I’ll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, When you are waspish. For submitting the first log in the summer reading program, each patron receives a book. My husband gave me his turn, so I ended up with two beach reads: The Woman in Cabin 10 and All the Missing Girls, both of which were the light, quick respites I needed while recovering from a dental emergency. (All is well now.) As did nearly everyone else, I found News of the World (Paulette Jiles) delightful. I actually began reading it via audiobook on the trip downstate to bring my daughters home for the summer. (We need two cars to move them in and out.) The narrator remained in my ear even when I turned to the book, and upon finishing, I promptly insisted that my husband choose it as his next audiobook. For the commonplace book: p. 121 Maybe life is just carrying news. Surviving to carry the news. Maybe we have just one message, and it is delivered to us when we are born and we are never sure what it says; it may have nothing to do with us personally but it must be carried by hand through a life, all the way, and at the end handed over, sealed. p. 201 Life was not safe and nothing could make it so, neither fashionable dresses nor bank accounts. Reading on devices troubles me, but it was the only way I could immediately access Dream Hoarders: How the American Upper Middle Class Is Leaving Everyone Else in the Dust, Why That Is a Problem, and What to Do about It (Richard V. Reeves) when I first became interested. At the halfway point, here are my commonplace entries: p.3 There is one good reason why many Americans feel as if the upper middle class is leaving everyone else behind: They are. Americans in the top fifth of the income distribution – broadly, households with incomes above the $112,000 mark – are separating from the rest. This separation is economic, visible in bank balances and salaries. But it can also be seen in education, family structure, health and longevity, even in civic and community life. The economic gap is just the most vivid sign of a deepening class divide. p. 15 The big question is whether we are willing to make some modest sacrifices in order to expand opportunities for others or whether, deep down, we would rather pull up the ladder. p. 54 The debate over college debt is lively and largely misplaced. It is lively because almost everyone involved in public discourse – scholars, journalists, politicians – went to college and has children who have done or will do so. (Almost every member of Congress has a college degree.) It is misplaced because the real problem in American higher education is not about debt, but distribution and quality. The debt problem is for people from poorer backgrounds who borrow to attend bad colleges. Other notes: I reread Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? in anticipation of the National Theatre Live broadcast. So much to press into the commonplace book, but this is destined to become a family favorite: “Martha, in my mind you’re buried in cement right up to the neck. No, up to the nose, it’s much quieter.†The Power promised more than the fragmented writing could deliver. March is one of those books that demonstrate just how important and powerful the graphic work genre is. I think I will need to reread the first three volumes of Bunker to make any sense of what is happening how. So much time passes between releases! The three four books on the bottom represent my TBRN (to be read next) pile. We’ll have to see if that plays out.

Our group is looking forward to the National Theatre Live broadcast of Angels in America, Parts 1 and 2.

Hello, BaWers! Since my last post, I have finished eight books: ■The Good, the Great, and the Unfriendly (Sally Gardner Reed; 2017. Non-fiction.) ■A.D.: After Death, Book 3 (Scott Snyder; 2017. Graphic fiction.) ■Shylock Is My Name (Howard Jacobson; 2016. Fiction.) p. 16 He knew what she was nudging him about. One of the traits of his character she had always disliked was his social cruelty. He teased people. Riddled them. Kept them waiting. Made them come to him. ■American War (Omar El Akkad; 2017. Fiction.) ■The Book of Joan (Lidia Yuknavitch; 2017. Fiction.) p. 13 It’s a perfect and terrifying consumer culture, really. His early life as a self-help guru, his astral rise as an author revered by millions worldwide, then overtaking television — that puny propaganda device on Earth — and finally, the seemingly unthinkable, as media became a manifested room in your home, he overtook lives, his performances increasingly more violent in form. His is a journey from opportunistic showman, to worshipped celebrity, to billionaire, to fascistic power monger. What was left? When the Wars broke out, his transformation to sadistic military leader came as no surprise. We are what happens when the seemingly unthinkable celebrity rises to power. Our existence makes my eyes hurt. People are forever thinking that the unthinkable can’t happen. If it doesn’t exist in thought, then in can’t exist in life. And then, in the blink of an eye, in a moment of danger, a figure who takes power from our weak desires and failures emerges like a rib from sand. […] Some strange combination of a military dictator and spiritual charlatan. A war-hungry mountebank. How stupidly we believe in our petty evolutions. Yet another case of something shiny that entertained us and then devoured us. We consume and become exactly what we create. In all times. ■The Power (Naomi Alderman; 2016. Fiction.) ■The Merry Wives of Windsor (William Shakespeare; 1602. Drama.) ...and you may know by my size that I have a kind of alacrity in sinking; if the bottom were as deep as hell, I should down. "A kind of alacrity in sinking." A family fave. ■Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead (Tom Stoppard; 1966. Drama.) p. 51 ROS: To sum up: your father, whom you love, dies, you are his heir, you come back to find that hardly was the corpse cold before his young brother popped onto his throne and into his sheets, thereby offending both legal and natural practice. Now why exactly are you behaving in this extraordinary manner? p. 60 GUIL: Wheels have been set in motion, and they have their own pace, to which we are… condemned. Each move is dictated by the previous one—that is the meaning of order. If we start being arbitrary it’ll just be a shambles: at least, let us hope so. Because if we happened, just happened to discover, or even suspect, that our spontaneity was part of their order, we’d know we were lost. (He sits.) A Chinamen of the T’ang Dynasty—and, by which definition, a philosopher—dreamed he was a butterfly, and from that moment he was never quite sure that he was not a butterfly dreaming it was a Chinese philosopher. Envy him; in his two-fold security. p. 61 GUIL: We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered. p. 63 PLAYER: […] Don’t you see?! We’re actors—we’re the opposite of people! p. 66 PLAYER: Uncertainty is the normal state. You’re nobody special. p. 68 GUIL: I think I have it. A man talking to himself is no madder than a man talking nonsense not to himself. ROS: Or just as mad. GUIL: Or just as mad. ROS: And he does both. GUIL: So there you are. ROS: Stark raving sane. p. 71 ROS: I wouldn’t think about it if I were you. You’d only get depressed. (Pause.) Eternity is a terrible thought. I mean, where’s it going to end? p. 79 PLAYER: […] There’s a design at work in all art—surely, you know that? Events must play themselves out to aesthetic, moral and logical conclusion. p. 80 PLAYER: […] Now if you’re going to be subtle, we’ll miss each other in the dark. I’m referring to oral tradition. So to speak. […] ROS: I want a good story, with a beginning, middle and end. I have also seen five plays: ■Relativity (Northlight Theatre) ■Shakespeare in Love (Chicago Shakespeare Theater) ■Not about Nightingales (Raven Theatre) ■Pass Over (Steppenwolf Theatre Company) ■Great Expectations (Remy Bumppo Theatre Company and Silk Road Rising) Six, if you count National Theatre Live: ■Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead

Both daughters, 21 and 19, are college seniors. The older has an internship in her field and continuing work on a project with the lab for which she is an undergraduate research assistant. The younger's lab also invited her to continue her research throughout the summer. (Skype, Googledocs, Evernote, Gitlab, email. How things have changed since I was a college senior who remained on an all but empty campus to work my internship and continue my research project!) The younger is also working on the material for two of her more difficult Fall 2017 classes and preparing for a Fall 2017 gig as a computer science classroom assistant. Both were planning to take an online summer course but have since (wisely, I think) cancelled their registration. Their schedules are already full.