Book a Week 2015 - BW42: poe's tell-tale heart

[Robin M]

Happy Sunday dear hearts:  We are on week 42  in our quest to read 52 books.  Welcome back to our regulars, anyone just joining in, and to all who follow our progress. Mr. Linky is all set up on the 52 books blog to link to your reviews. The link is in my signature.

 

52 Books blog - Poe's Tell-Tale Heart:

 

 

 

 

 

Picture courtesy:  Edward Gorey's Tell-Tall Heart

 

 

 

 

 

The Tell-Tale Heart 

 

 By 

 

Edgar Allan Poe 

 

 

 True! --nervous --very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses --not destroyed --not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily --how calmly I can tell you the whole story.

 

It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! yes, it was this! He had the eye of a vulture --a pale blue eye, with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees --very gradually --I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever.

 

Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded --with what caution --with what foresight --with what dissimulation I went to work! I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week before I killed him. And every night, about midnight, I turned the latch of his door and opened it --oh so gently! And then, when I had made an opening sufficient for my head, I put in a dark lantern, all closed, closed, that no light shone out, and then I thrust in my head. Oh, you would have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in! I moved it slowly --very, very slowly, so that I might not disturb the old man's sleep.

 

It took me an hour to place my whole head within the opening so far that I could see him as he lay upon his bed. Ha! would a madman have been so wise as this, And then, when my head was well in the room, I undid the lantern cautiously-oh, so cautiously --cautiously (for the hinges creaked) --I undid it just so much that a single thin ray fell upon the vulture eye. And this I did for seven long nights --every night just at midnight --but I found the eye always closed; and so it was impossible to do the work; for it was not the old man who vexed me, but his Evil Eye. And every morning, when the day broke, I went boldly into the chamber, and spoke courageously to him, calling him by name in a hearty tone, and inquiring how he has passed the night. So you see he would have been a very profound old man, indeed, to suspect that every night, just at twelve, I looked in upon him while he slept.

 

Upon the eighth night I was more than usually cautious in opening the door. A watch's minute hand moves more quickly than did mine. Never before that night had I felt the extent of my own powers --of my sagacity. I could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph. To think that there I was, opening the door, little by little, and he not even to dream of my secret deeds or thoughts. I fairly chuckled at the idea; and perhaps he heard me; for he moved on the bed suddenly, as if startled. Now you may think that I drew back --but no. His room was as black as pitch with the thick darkness, (for the shutters were close fastened, through fear of robbers,) and so I knew that he could not see the opening of the door, and I kept pushing it on steadily, steadily. 

 

I had my head in, and was about to open the lantern, when my thumb slipped upon the tin fastening, and the old man sprang up in bed, crying out --"Who's there?"

 

I kept quite still and said nothing. For a whole hour I did not move a muscle, and in the meantime I did not hear him lie down. He was still sitting up in the bed listening; --just as I have done, night after night, hearkening to the death watches in the wall.

 

Presently I heard a slight groan, and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan of pain or of grief --oh, no! --it was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul when overcharged with awe. I knew the sound well. Many a night, just at midnight, when all the world slept, it has welled up from my own bosom, deepening, with its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me. I say I knew it well. I knew what the old man felt, and pitied him, although I chuckled at heart. I knew that he had been lying awake ever since the first slight noise, when he had turned in the bed. His fears had been ever since growing upon him. 

 

He had been trying to fancy them causeless, but could not. He had been saying to himself --"It is nothing but the wind in the chimney --it is only a mouse crossing the floor," or "It is merely a cricket which has made a single chirp." Yes, he had been trying to comfort himself with these suppositions: but he had found all in vain. All in vain; because Death, in approaching him had stalked with his black shadow before him, and enveloped the victim. And it was the mournful influence of the unperceived shadow that caused him to feel --although he neither saw nor heard --to feel the presence of my head within the room.

 

When I had waited a long time, very patiently, without hearing him lie down, I resolved to open a little --a very, very little crevice in the lantern. So I opened it --you cannot imagine how stealthily, stealthily --until, at length a simple dim ray, like the thread of the spider, shot from out the crevice and fell full upon the vulture eye. It was open --wide, wide open --and I grew furious as I gazed upon it. I saw it with perfect distinctness --all a dull blue, with a hideous veil over it that chilled the very marrow in my bones; but I could see nothing else of the old man's face or person: for I had directed the ray as if by instinct, precisely upon the damned spot.

 

And have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the sense? --now, I say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound well, too. It was the beating of the old man's heart. It increased my fury, as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage.

 

But even yet I refrained and kept still. I scarcely breathed. I held the lantern motionless. I tried how steadily I could maintain the ray upon the eve. Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart increased. It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder every instant. The old man's terror must have been extreme! It grew louder, I say, louder every moment! --do you mark me well I have told you that I am nervous: so I am. And now at the dead hour of the night, amid the dreadful silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror. Yet, for some minutes longer I refrained and stood still. But the beating grew louder, louder!

 

I thought the heart must burst. And now a new anxiety seized me --the sound would be heard by a neighbour! The old man's hour had come! With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room. He shrieked once --once only. In an instant I dragged him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him. I then smiled gaily, to find the deed so far done. But, for many minutes, the heart beat on with a muffled sound. This, however, did not vex me; it would not be heard through the wall. At length it ceased. The old man was dead. I removed the bed and examined the corpse. Yes, he was stone, stone dead. I placed my hand upon the heart and held it there many minutes. There was no pulsation. He was stone dead. His eye would trouble me no more.

 

If still you think me mad, you will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the concealment of the body. The night waned, and I worked hastily, but in silence. First of all I dismembered the corpse. I cut off the head and the arms and the legs.

 

I then took up three planks from the flooring of the chamber, and deposited all between the scantlings. I then replaced the boards so cleverly, so cunningly, that no human eye --not even his --could have detected any thing wrong. There was nothing to wash out --no stain of any kind --no blood-spot whatever. I had been too wary for that. A tub had caught all --ha! ha! 

 

When I had made an end of these labors, it was four o'clock --still dark as midnight. As the bell sounded the hour, there came a knocking at the street door. I went down to open it with a light heart, --for what had I now to fear? There entered three men, who introduced themselves, with perfect suavity, as officers of the police. A shriek had been heard by a neighbour during the night; suspicion of foul play had been aroused; information had been lodged at the police office, and they (the officers) had been deputed to search the premises. 

 

I smiled, --for what had I to fear? I bade the gentlemen welcome. The shriek, I said, was my own in a dream. The old man, I mentioned, was absent in the country. I took my visitors all over the house. I bade them search --search well. I led them, at length, to his chamber. I showed them his treasures, secure, undisturbed. In the enthusiasm of my confidence, I brought chairs into the room, and desired them here to rest from their fatigues, while I myself, in the wild audacity of my perfect triumph, placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse of the victim.

 

The officers were satisfied. My manner had convinced them. I was singularly at ease. They sat, and while I answered cheerily, they chatted of familiar things. But, ere long, I felt myself getting pale and wished them gone. My head ached, and I fancied a ringing in my ears: but still they sat and still chatted. The ringing became more distinct: --It continued and became more distinct: I talked more freely to get rid of the feeling: but it continued and gained definiteness --until, at length, I found that the noise was not within my ears.

 

No doubt I now grew very pale; --but I talked more fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased --and what could I do? It was a low, dull, quick sound --much such a sound as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I gasped for breath --and yet the officers heard it not. I talked more quickly --more vehemently; but the noise steadily increased. I arose and argued about trifles, in a high key and with violent gesticulations; but the noise steadily increased. Why would they not be gone? I paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides, as if excited to fury by the observations of the men --but the noise steadily increased. Oh God! what could I do? 

 

I foamed --I raved --I swore! I swung the chair upon which I had been sitting, and grated it upon the boards, but the noise arose over all and continually increased. It grew louder --louder --louder! And still the men chatted pleasantly, and smiled. Was it possible they heard not? Almighty God! --no, no! They heard! --they suspected! --they knew! --they were making a mockery of my horror!-this I thought, and this I think. But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die! and now --again! --hark! louder! louder! louder! louder!

 

"Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed! --tear up the planks! here, here! --It is the beating of his hideous heart!"

 

 

 

************************************************************************

 

History of The Medieval World

Chapter 52 - The New Sennacherib - pp 396 - 404

Chapter 53 - Castle Lords and Regents - pp 405 - 412

 

************************************************************************

 

What are you reading this week?

 

 

 

 

Link to week 41 

[Negin]

I read;

 

Three Cups of Deceit - 3 Stars - I have not read “Three Cups of Tea†nor do I plan on doing so.

Jon Krakauer is angry and I believe that he has every right to be. He was fooled by Greg Mortenson. This very thoroughly documented book is about the duplicity and inconsistencies in “Three Cups of Tea†and its sequel, “Stones into Schoolsâ€, as well as Mortensons’s non-profit organization, Central Asia Institute (CAI) where the funds are heavily mismanaged.

As far as reading goes, it was a bit boring for me, hence why I’ve given it 3 stars. I feel sad for the people of Afghanistan, Pakistan, as well as for all those who donated to CAI.

A quote that I’d like to share:

“When our heroes turn out to be sleazebags, self-deception is easier than facing the facts.â€

― Jon Krakauer, Three Cups of Deceit: How Greg Mortenson, Humanitarian Hero, Lost His Way

 

Anne Frank: The Anne Frank House Authorized Graphic Biography – 5 Stars - We visited Amsterdam for a few days over the summer and made it a point to visit the Anne Frank House. It was one of the highlights of our entire trip and we were moved beyond words. Here’s a picture that we took while standing in line (we were lucky enough to be one of the first in line).

 

I had no idea that there was an Anne Frank biographical novel until we went to the bookshop. All the English copies were out of stock, so we waited till we got back home to place an order.

 

This book is accurate, well-organized, and chock-full of detailed information. I would highly recommend it combined with another Holocaust graphic novel, another favorite of mine, “Mausâ€. I honestly wish that both were required reading for all secondary-school students, although I recommend both books for all ages. Both are an absolute pleasure to read, despite the awful and horrific subject matter.

 

The Pianist - 4 Stars - This book is an amazing memoir of a Jew’s survival in Nazi-occupied Warsaw. Szpilman does not sound at all bitter or angry. His writing is in fact rather detached and dispassionate. The reason may be is that he wrote it shortly after the war and was still suffering all the terrible after-effects and shock.

 

The German officer’s diary was fascinating. What an incredible angel of a man. That’s all I have to say. The kindness of strangers so often brings me to tears. In fact, retelling his part of the story to my husband over coffee, had me sobbing. He's one of those special souls that I simply don't want to forget.

 

I saw the movie ten years ago and I think that the movie version may be more powerful than the book, except that I don’t think the German officer part is included, for me that part was extremely moving. I’d like to see the movie again.

 

   

 

MY RATING SYSTEM

5 Stars

Fantastic, couldn't put it down

4 Stars

Really Good

3 Stars

Enjoyable

2 Stars

Just Okay – nothing to write home about

1 Star

Rubbish – waste of my money and time. Few books make it to this level, since I usually give up on them if they’re that bad.

[Robin M]

Two ebooks waiting in the wings to begin 

 

#5 in Wheels of Time -  The Fires of Heaven and Horrostor. Plus I'm dithering between two paperback  chunksters -----Vickram Seth's  a Suitable Boy or Mark Helprin's A Soldier of a Great War.

 

Which shall I read?

[Loesje22000]

I finished 'The knock of the door' this week.

But yesterday I realised I still don't understand the title in relation to the story.

 

I read Die Weisse Rose (in Dutch)

and the Christmas Quilt (in Dutch, and I needed something more easy going )

 

I found Longitude in Dutch in the Library,

I hoped for Galileo's Daughter.

 

 

[Just Robyn]

Anne Frank: The Anne Frank House Authorized Graphic Biography

 

Lovely photo, and thank you, I'll put this book on my to-read list.

 

 

I finished The Rose Metal Press Field Guide to Prose Poetry, but that's all. Still working on the others and haven't started anything new. Another prose poem? 

 

The Experiment by Jeffrey Skinner

 

I sewed my father into a specially designed, handmade bear suit. He was indistinguishable from a real bear, and yet retained the necessary functions of a human. I also provided a G.P.S. radio collar. Then I air-dropped him into a densely forested preserve. When I returned a year later I found he had mated with an Asian black bear. He and she and their two cubs lived a quiet life in a mountain cave.

 

After sharing a meal of berries and honey and wild piglets I asked to speak to my father in private. He led me on a path away from the cave to the edge of the cliff. This view of surrounding mountains and rivers and forest is magnificent... "Yes, it is," he said. "What, you can read minds now?" I said. "A small trick for a bear, as it turns out."

 

I thought this over for a moment; but it did not change my purpose. "Dad," I said, "it's time to go home. The experiment is over." He stared at me with his great, incongruous blue eyes and bear face, and said, "No." "Yes." "No." "Yes." "NO!" he said finally and swatted a nearby Douglas fir with one paw. The tree flew several yards over my head and came to rest in the snow, dirt trickling from its upended roots.

 

"It's been good to see you," I said, and rose. "Same here," he said and also stood, "but I think it best if you didn't come back." I agreed, and held wide my arms for a goodbye embrace. I could hear and feel the cracking of my ribs, which I consoled myself would heal completely in time. "Don't tell your mother," he said. "In fact, tell her I've died." "Well, you are dead, aren't you?" "Yes," he said, and scampered up the path with surprising agility, on all fours.

[idnib]

I finished The Silver Chair and started (just this morning) The Horse and His Boy. Yes, I am still plugging away on Narnia when I have time. I think I started in March?

 

I also completed A String in the Harp, which I picked up thanks to recommendations in previous threads. It fits in well with our history studies this year and I'll be passing it on to DS. I really enjoyed this story once I figured out I should be patient about action and there wouldn't be any Narnia-like endeavor in which children enter another world, which was what I had expected. I've spent too much time the last week Googling about holiday in Wales.

 

I'm still reading and enjoying The Spoils of Poynton, House of Leaves, and (my re-read of) No Country for Old Men.

 

I took DS to see Benedict Cumberbatch in Hamlet, shown on the big screen here but a National Theatre Live offering from London. (The set was amazing. Some people had issues with it but we loved it)  He was the only kid there but was able to hold his own when approached by other audience members to discuss the production.  :001_wub: We got home around 11:30p and I let him sleep in the next day. I love homeschooling!

[Kareni]

Some bookish things ~

 

Oldest Draft of King James Bible Discovered, Historian Says

 

***

 

Halloween book art:  “The Adventurer’s Diary†by Luminous Creative Imaging

 

***

 

From Book Riot: Literally Literary Corn Mazes: 2015 Round-Up

 

***

 

For Willy Wonka fans ~ a golden ticket blanket

 

 

Regards,

Kareni

 

[Stacia]

Still working on Hyde by Daniel Levine.

 

I often have vivid dreams, so I decided that nighttime is not the time for me to work on my spooky reading. None of it has shown up in my dreams, but I don't want to add anything sinister or spooky right before bedtime. So, my reading time has been slowed a bit by adding my own limitation.

 

I'm about a third of the way through the book &, so far, I'm impressed. I think Levine has done a great job expanding Stevenson's story in a different, yet very related, direction. Trigger warning, though, for sensitive readers (mouse over to see: child abuse, incl. references to sexual abuse).

[Robin M]

The Experiment by Jeffrey Skinner

 

I sewed my father into a specially designed, handmade bear suit. He was indistinguishable from a real bear, and yet retained the necessary functions of a human. I also provided a G.P.S. radio collar. Then I air-dropped him into a densely forested preserve. When I returned a year later I found he had mated with an Asian black bear. He and she and their two cubs lived a quiet life in a mountain cave.

 

After sharing a meal of berries and honey and wild piglets I asked to speak to my father in private. He led me on a path away from the cave to the edge of the cliff. This view of surrounding mountains and rivers and forest is magnificent... "Yes, it is," he said. "What, you can read minds now?" I said. "A small trick for a bear, as it turns out."

 

I thought this over for a moment; but it did not change my purpose. "Dad," I said, "it's time to go home. The experiment is over." He stared at me with his great, incongruous blue eyes and bear face, and said, "No." "Yes." "No." "Yes." "NO!" he said finally and swatted a nearby Douglas fir with one paw. The tree flew several yards over my head and came to rest in the snow, dirt trickling from its upended roots.

 

"It's been good to see you," I said, and rose. "Same here," he said and also stood, "but I think it best if you didn't come back." I agreed, and held wide my arms for a goodbye embrace. I could hear and feel the cracking of my ribs, which I consoled myself would heal completely in time. "Don't tell your mother," he said. "In fact, tell her I've died." "Well, you are dead, aren't you?" "Yes," he said, and scampered up the path with surprising agility, on all fours.

Okay, that's just weird.  Scratching my head over this one. Thanks for sharing.  

[Kareni]

I finished two books recently ~

 

Death by Silver (Julian Lynes and Ned Mathey series Book 1) by Melissa Scott and Amy Griswold.

 

This is a mystery set in a Victorian London in which magic is present.  There's a physical relationship between the two main characters, but it's mostly behind closed doors.  I enjoyed this and look forward to reading more by these authors.  As an aside, reading this book would certainly make anyone think twice or seventeen times before sending a son to boarding school.

 

 

"His practice newly established, metaphysician Ned Mathey can’t afford to turn away any clients. But the latest Londoner to seek Ned’s magical aid gives him pause: Mr Edgar Nevett, an arrogant banker, is the father of the bully who made Ned’s life hell at boarding school. Nevertheless, Ned accepts the commission to ensure the Nevett family silver bears no ancient or modern curses, and then prepares to banish the Nevett family to unpleasant memory again. Until Edgar Nevett is killed by an enchanted silver candlestick—one of the pieces Ned declared magically harmless.

Calling on his old school friend Julian Lynes—private detective and another victim of the younger Nevett—Ned races to solve the murder, clear the stain on his professional reputation, and lay to rest the ghosts of his past.

Assisted by Ned’s able secretary Miss Frost, who has unexpected metaphysical skills of her own, Ned and Julian explore London’s criminal underworld and sodomitical demimonde, uncover secrets and scandals, confront the unexpected murderer and the mysteries of their own relationship.

In the Lambda Literary Award winning novel, Death by Silver, veteran authors Melissa Scott and Amy Griswold introduce a Victorian London where magic works, influencing every aspect of civilized life, and two very appealing detectives."

 

**

 

I also finished  Perfect Touch: A Novel by Elizabeth Lowell.  I've been reading this author -- as Elizabeth Lowell, Ann Maxwell, and co-writing as A.E. Maxwell -- since the 1980s.  This was a pleasant read but probably not a book I would re-read.

 

"An art dealer and owner of her own design studio, Perfect Touch, Sara Medina travels the world to find the ideal artwork for her clients. Her sophisticated, comfortable life in San Francisco is light years away from the poverty of her family’s dairy farm, and Sara will do whatever it takes to keep her business strong. A dedicated urban career woman focused on her work, she doesn’t have time or energy for a family or distracting romantic entanglements.

 

Jay Vermillion recently inherited Vermillion Sky, a working ranch near Wyoming’s breathtaking Grand Teton Mountains—and the estates of the rich and restless. While he was fighting in two wars, his father tried to keep the homestead running, until illness stole his fight and then his life. Jay’s determined to restore Vermillion Sky, but first he’s got to settle a vicious battle with his former stepmother over some of his late father’s paintings. The last thing on his mind is a finding a wife and creating a seventh generation of Vermillions.

 

When Jay hires Sara to handle his father’s artwork, it’s love at first sight—a mutually inconvenient attraction that is soon complicated by a double murder at the edge of the ranch and a potential betrayal even closer to home. Working together to unmask a murderer, Sara and Jay try to fight the intense heat between them. Then the killer targets Sara. And suddenly, Jay, the war-weary soldier, finds something he’s once again willing to die for . . ."

 

 

Regards,

Kareni

[JennW in SoCal]

First off, a little BaW business to take care of.  In early 2014 I compiled a list of snail mail addresses for the BaW club so we could send each other postcards and books. It seems time to update this list and share it again, as some folk have dropped out of our thread while others have joined. The list is private -- it is only shared within our little club. PM me if you would like to join the list and get a copy of it for yourself. I'll try to get it compiled next weekend.

 

Now onto books!  I haven't finished anything this week. I'm about half way through Spoils of Poynton, catching a chapter or two when I can.

 

I am still listening to the memoir, Barbarian Days, A Surfer's Life by William Finnegan. The surfing is of course front and center in the book, and is fascinating to this non-surfer, though I am related to surfers, have had to sit in the car while they sit and study the waves at a favorite break, and I know several of the spots he describes in Southern California and Hawaii. More fascinating is how his travels around the world in the 1980s shaped his future life as a writer -- the books he read, the jobs he had, the writing he did. He is now a fairly well-known author, having published books on teaching at a black school in South Africa during the apartheid years, books on wars, and on marginalized youth in America, and he is a staff writer for the New Yorker. 

 

 

[Butter]

I finished nothing this week.  I'm a little more than a third of the way through Magnus Chase and the Sword of Summer.  I'm to the point now where I have to spend at least an hour a day in bed with my pelvis and legs up so I guess I'll be doing more reading!

[Jane in NC]

Reading Tristano Dies by Antonio Tabucchi is a challenge for me.  The novel focuses on a war hero dying of gangrene. He recalls his actions, his loves, and, in his morphine induced haze, questions what it means to be a hero as we readers question the reliability of his memories. 

 

In some respects this book reminds me of WiesÅ‚aw MyÅ›liwski's masterpice, Stone Upon Stone. MyÅ›liwski follows a resistance hero into his future life as a bureaucrat within the Soviet dominated days of Poland.  It is gritty book that examines survival in difficult circumstances--domination by another state under the guise of war or the guise of progress.

 

Tabucchi does something similar in Tristano Dies but the scene changes to the South.  Early on in the book we learn that Tristano kills a Nazi in Greece and then heads to the hills to fight with the Greek partisans.  Memories shift between Italy, Greece and Spain in confusing plot lines with characters taking on several names (Daphne/Rosamunda/Marilyn).  Tristano does bring the occasional chuckle with his wordplay but overall the book is dark.

 

So dark in fact that I recognize I need a break!  Thus I have read a few pages of Jonas Jonasson's The 100-Year-Old Man who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared because I need some comic relief. 

 

I have also picked up a hard copy of The Spoils of Poynton from the library.  And I am listening to Brave New World in the car.

[Pam in CT]

Robin, I have a general impression of enjoying Suitable Boy very much when it came out, though I confess I can't recall a single detail, so perhaps it wasn't so memorable after all   :lol: ...

 

Negin, we visited Anne Frank this summer and I picked up that same book!  Haven't read it yet though -- thanks.

[-M-]

Hello!

 

I've finished five books since my last post:

 

â–  High-Rise (J.G. Ballard; 1975 (2012 reprint). 208 pages. Fiction.)
â–  The Martian (Andy Weir; 2014. 384 pages. Fiction.)
â–  Killing and Dying (Adrian Tomine; 2015. 160 pages. Graphic Fiction.)
â–  The Empty, Volume 1 (Jimmie Robinson; 2015. Graphic Fiction.)
â–  Descender, Volume 1: Tin Stars (Jeff Lemire; 2015. 160 pages. Graphic Fiction.)

 

First published thirty years ago, High-Rise is a slick, smart dystopian parable. Most people are familiar with Ballard's Empire of the Sun (which was adapted by Spielberg into a film of the same title), but it's his novels that earned him the adjective "Ballardian." I liked this brisk work; it felt a bit like Lord of the Flies peopled by suburban adults.

 

I'm not sure I can lend anything original to the general love heaped on Weir's book. It's certainly great fun, and we're looking forward to seeing the movie.

 

What I'd like to do is press Tomine's Killing and Dying on you. Set aside any misgivings and/or preconceptions you may have about graphic works. Tomine demonstrates absolute mastery of the short story form in his newest book. Yes, this is a well drawn collection; he effortlessly demonstrates what the genre can achieve in capable hands. But more importantly, it is a terrifically told collection, one that elicits involuntary gasps when it reminds us -- as the best fiction will -- that stories often reveal far greater truths that non-fiction ever could.

 

If I missed the conversation, forgive me, but did anyone see Hamlet on Thursday night? I could go on and on about how disappointed I was in the production's wan and rather clueless Horatio (one who fails to give us anything to which we can hold fast during Hamlet’s whirlwind tour of life, man’s universe, and everything in it), but I will spare you. Besides, there's so much to recommend here, from the unconventional star’s turn in a bucket-list role to the jaw-dropping set and its many effects, from the twitchy heartbreak Ophelia represents to the intelligent self-possession Gertrude uncovers. National Theatre Live has already announced its encore performances. If you missed it on Thursday, grab tickets to an encore. It will be $20 well spent.

[Jane in NC]

The Experiment by Jeffrey Skinner

 

I sewed my father into a specially designed, handmade bear suit. He was indistinguishable from a real bear, and yet retained the necessary functions of a human. I also provided a G.P.S. radio collar. Then I air-dropped him into a densely forested preserve. When I returned a year later I found he had mated with an Asian black bear. He and she and their two cubs lived a quiet life in a mountain cave.

 

After sharing a meal of berries and honey and wild piglets I asked to speak to my father in private. He led me on a path away from the cave to the edge of the cliff. This view of surrounding mountains and rivers and forest is magnificent... "Yes, it is," he said. "What, you can read minds now?" I said. "A small trick for a bear, as it turns out."

 

I thought this over for a moment; but it did not change my purpose. "Dad," I said, "it's time to go home. The experiment is over." He stared at me with his great, incongruous blue eyes and bear face, and said, "No." "Yes." "No." "Yes." "NO!" he said finally and swatted a nearby Douglas fir with one paw. The tree flew several yards over my head and came to rest in the snow, dirt trickling from its upended roots.

 

"It's been good to see you," I said, and rose. "Same here," he said and also stood, "but I think it best if you didn't come back." I agreed, and held wide my arms for a goodbye embrace. I could hear and feel the cracking of my ribs, which I consoled myself would heal completely in time. "Don't tell your mother," he said. "In fact, tell her I've died." "Well, you are dead, aren't you?" "Yes," he said, and scampered up the path with surprising agility, on all fours.

At first I laughed and then I thought that I may know someone who has a similar relationship with his kids--which is not so comical.

 

I love this! Thank you!

[Stacia]

crstarlette, thanks for the short work by Skinner that you posted.

 

I loved it too. Just my kind of weird fiction! Lol.

 

M-mv, thanks for mentioning the encore performances for Hamlet. I didn't make it to this one & checked the day of to see if there were future shows, but none were posted at that point. Going back to take a look for future dates....

[idnib]

Okay, that's just weird.  Scratching my head over this one. Thanks for sharing.  

 

Yep. Just roll with it, I think.  :)

 

Reading Tristano Dies by Antonio Tabucchi is a challenge for me.  The novel focuses on a war hero dying of gangrene. He recalls his actions, his loves, and, in his morphine induced haze, questions what it means to be a hero as we readers question the reliability of his memories. 

 

I was going to read this next month. It sounds like I should gather up my nerve first....

[Negin]

Negin, we visited Anne Frank this summer and I picked up that same book!  Haven't read it yet though -- thanks.

Pam, what a coincidence! It's a lovely book, the only downside for me in my late 40s, is the small font. My bifocal glasses couldn't even help much. The font was just too small for me. Fabulous book, however. 

[Jane in NC]

 

I was going to read this next month. It sounds like I should gather up my nerve first....

 

There is a poetic quality to Tristano but the book is taking me to an uncomfortable place. 

 

Who needs werewolves or other monsters when we have humanity that is more haunting? 

 

So glad you enjoyed A String in the Harp!  Aberystwyth is positively magical to me because of this book!

 

[Kareni]

melbotoast posted this in a thread on the General Discussion board ~

 

Big Library Read: October 7 – 21, 2015

 

http://biglibraryread.com/

 

Here’s how it works: Program sponsor, OverDrive, teams with noted eBook publishers to make two popular eBooks available to public libraries and schools for lending. During the two-week program, the Big Library Read titles are available to borrow through participating libraries and schools. It’s free and there’s never a waiting list during the program. All you need is a library card or student ID to get started reading in this international eBook club.

 

The titles are The Door in the Hedge by Robin McKinley and In the Shadow of Blackbirds by Cat Winters.

 

Regards,

Kareni

[-M-]

Three years ago, I pressed the book My Ideal Bookshelf on anyone who would listen. “If you’re a reader,†I insisted, “you will love this book!†Well, my affection for the book continues unabated, so I’d like to recommend it once again. Your wish list will grow, as will your TBR pile. You will engage in a conversation with each contributor — even if just to exclaim inwardly, Oh! I have that, too! or to furrow your brow, Really? And you will labor over your own “ideal bookshelf.â€

 

Here is mine.

 

 

Two years ago, my older daughter also drew the shelf for me. It's just perfect, and I really must figure out a way to get an image of her work without disassembling the frame.

 

But enough about me. Have you read My Ideal Bookshelf? And even if you haven't, what would choose for yours?

 

From Ideal Bookshelf:

 

The books that we choose to keep and display—let alone read—can say a lot about who we are and how we see ourselves. In My Ideal Bookshelf, one hundred leading cultural figures, including writers Chuck Klosterman, Jennifer Egan, and Michael Chabon, musicians Patti Smith and Thurston Moore, chefs and food writers Alice Waters and Mark Bittman, and fashion designers Kate and Laura Mulleavy of Rodarte, reveal the books that matter to them most—books that reflect their obsessions and ambitions and in many cases helped them find their way in the world.

 

Original paintings by artist Jane Mount showcase the selections, with colorful, hand-lettered book spines and occasional objets d’art from the contributors’ personal bookshelves. The paintings are accompanied by first-person commentary drawn from interviews with editor Thessaly La Force, which touch on everything from the choice of books to becoming a writer to surprising sources of inspiration. This exquisite collection provides rare insight into the creative process and artistic development of today’s most intriguing writers, innovators, and visionaries.

 

 

[Pam in CT]

 

re: Tristano Dies, by Antonion Tabuchi:

 

I was going to read this next month. It sounds like I should gather up my nerve first....

 

There is a poetic quality to Tristano but the book is taking me to an uncomfortable place. 

 

Who needs werewolves or other monsters when we have humanity that is more haunting? 

 

...

 

Hmm.  It's staring at me from the top of one of the sitting room stacks.  I think I'll have to wait for your collective reports; I'm still recovering from my existential angst re: haunting monstrousness of humanity from Hilltop.

 

And speaking of Archipelago books, have you two already discussed The Folly?  I just finished it. Um.

[mumto2]

Not sure if Robin managed to read the Wolf Gift by Anne Rice or not. I am wondering what you thought of it. Overall I liked it. One of my favourite parts was the history of the morphinkind......werewolves. This was something I really enjoyed in her vampire series, this wasn't as fascinating but still an interesting where werewolves originated story. This story felt incomplete which is my big complaint. Everything finally was put in place to tell a good story and the book was over. Since it didn't really end so on to the next one at some point. I think there may be a third one in the works......

 

I also read Sue Grafton's B is for Burglar which was great. I think I may have vaguely remembered this one because I had the mystery part figured out really early....not sure all the clues were even there. ;) Definitely a great comfort read......She flew from her little California town to Miami last minute for $99 on ghd red eye. Love it when she mentions the prices.

[Jane in NC]

 

re: Tristano Dies, by Antonion Tabuchi:

 

 

Hmm.  It's staring at me from the top of one of the sitting room stacks.  I think I'll have to wait for your collective reports; I'm still recovering from my existential angst re: haunting monstrousness of humanity from Hilltop.

 

And speaking of Archipelago books, have you two already discussed The Folly?  I just finished it. Um.

 

 

Yes, idnib and I read the book last month.

 

In my first post on the book, I wrote:

 

 

About 40 pages to go in The Folly, Idnib. I'll start the chat!

 

Ivan Vladislavić was born in South Africa and writes in English.  I think that needs to be made clear since one might assume that he is another of these Eastern European writers that I tend to find in dusty corners of bookstores and libraries.  Vladislavić's allegorical fable, The Folly, was first published in South Africa in 1993 and is now made available in the US thanks to dear Archipelago Books.

 

And what a tale it is! The middle class lives of Mr and Mrs Malgas are rudely interrupted by the appropriately named Nieuwenhuizen ("new house" in Afrikaans) when he sets up camp on the empty lot next door.  He pitches a tent and dances about the lot to gather materials there. A layout of a house seems to evolve as he pounds large nails in an apparent random pattern that may or may not have meaning.  Mr. Malgas watches this life of apparent freedom in admiration and is soon sucked into the vision that Nieuwenhuizen is creating.  Although on more than one occasion, the neighbor must remind hardware salesman Malgas that he must expand beyond his literal view of the world:

 

"You've got hardware on the brain, my friend, and it leave you no room for speculation."

 

Mrs (as Malgas's wife is called in the tale) is disgusted by it all.  That does not keep her from keeping watch while perched on a stool behind a curtain.  She scrubs Mr's dirty and aching bath in the tub while trying to figure out just what the heck is going on next door.  Is her husband losing his mind?

 

Fun little book so far!

 

idnib responded:

 

I'm also enjoying this little book. The writing is straightforward and engaging. 

 

I don't think Mr. Malgas admires only the life of freedom, although I think that's a large part of it. I think he might also respect Nieuwenhuizen's ability to re-use objects in a clever way, in contrast with the shiny new objects he sells in his hardware shop.

 

What do you think about Mrs. Malgas and her penchant for examining her objects d'art?

 

And in return I said:

 

It seems that everyone has objects filling their lives, real or imagined.  Mr has his hardware, Mrs her tchotchkes, Nieuwenhuizen has all of the stuff in the imagined house (including the rumpus room) as well as his tin can cups, etc. As a reader, I am identifying with Mrs, watching the action unfold from behind the curtain. I think she is holding on to those objects as a way of holding on to the comfort of the past.

 

I thought I would finish the book last night but I was so tired from the long drive, etc. And this is an ending that I suspect I will want to savor.

idnib said:

 

I found it interesting when Mrs was counting her objects, which I found interesting because I sometimes count/add/multiply things if I'm feeling a lot of anxiety. It relieves stress. I do agree with you about the book's general focus on objects.

However, there was a problem:

 

Finished the book and I don't know what to think.  The ending was fine, but the bit leading up to the heading had me scratching my head.

[idnib]

 

Oh! I have that, too!

 

 

Funny about the "I have that too" phenomenon, because our copy of Moby Dick is the same as yours.

 

I'll have to think about my ideal bookshelf. Something tells me I should form my own before reading about other people's or I'll be reminded of too many other possibilities! 

 

And speaking of Archipelago books, have you two already discussed The Folly?  I just finished it. Um.

 

Jane covered our conversation but missed one of my posts:

 

 

finished last night.

 

General trajectory of the book, for me:

 

Exciting --> doubtful --> whimsical --> doubtful --> utterly confusing --> doubtful --> comforting --> doubtful

 

I am still not quite sure what happened. I guess that was intentional.

 

The best part for me was the contrast of the fanciful goings-on with strong grounding brought about by a constant focus on physical objects.

 

I was also scratching my head about some of the events leading up to the ending. After a few "Wait, what?" moments I ended up giving in (around the time of the punctuation, if you know what I mean) and just accepting what was described.

 

I really did enjoy reading the book. That said, I'm glad it was short because if any of the circumstances described had gone on for many pages I think it would have been too much. That level of bewilderment can only be sustained for so long before it gets tiring so I'm glad it was well-edited.

 

I sent my copy to Eliana so hopefully when things settle down for her she'll read it and chime in as well.

[Pam in CT]

I see.  So, no clear ruling from you ladies as to whether or not it aspires to be Allegory?  For a while there in the middle I felt sure that's where we were going.  At the end (which was only a couple of hours ago), though, I feared I'd been Left Behind.

 

Perhaps I'll sleep on it before deciding.  I might have hardware on the brain.

[Nan in Mass]

Eliana, I hope all is well. I hope Pam,s bat stories gave you a momentary escape.

Hugs,

Nan

[Kareni]

This currently free Kindle book is described as a supernatural thriller which would generally scare me away; however, it sounds quite intriguing ~

 

 

Kick (The Jenkins Cycle Book 1) by John L. Monk

 

"They say suicides are damned for eternity. But if coming back to life in the bodies of violent criminals is Hell, then Dan Jenkins will take it. And he does, every time a portal arrives to whisk him from his ghostly exile in limbo.

Dan rides the living like a supernatural jockey, pushing out their consciousness and taking over. They're bad guys, right? Killers and brutes of every sort, which makes it okay. He doesn't know where their minds go while he's in charge, and for the most part doesn't care. For three weeks at a time, it's a chance to relax and watch movies, read fantasy novels, and have random conversations with perfect strangers. All for a chance to live again, and maybe make up for the hell he'd put his ex-girlfriend, Sandra, through.

Normally, before the villain returns to kick him out, Dan dishes out a final serving of justice and leaves the world a safer place. It's one of the rules if he wants more rides, and he's happy to oblige. For a part-time dead guy, it’s a pretty good gig.

And then he meets her."

 

Regards,

Kareni

[Violet Crown]

Bat stories? Plural? I only saw the first one!

 

This week I finished--at long, long last--William Langland's Piers Plowman. And a strange book it is, too. Tough reading but well worth it. And The Spoils of Poynton.

 

So back to The Wings of the Dove. And to keep a non-fiction book in the mix, but sticking with the Victorian theme, Cardinal Newman's Development of Doctrine.

[Stacia]

I'll take M--'s "ideal bookshelf" challenge. 10 huh?

 

Today I'd select:

 

Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut

Dracula by Bram Stoker

The Book of Chameleons by Jose Eduardo Agualusa

Mr. Fox by Helen Oyeyemi

The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov

Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell

Into Thin Air by Jon Krakauer

The Wee Free Men by Terry Pratchett

a Richard Scarry book

...and a blank spot for a book that is yet to be discovered by me 

 

 

 

[Kathleen.]

We just watched a DVD of Poe's "Tell-Tale Heart." My 11yo thought is was too creepy and my 9yo thought it was icky and funny. :)

[Violet Crown]

Pam, second bat story was even better than the first! "Herd of bats." :D

 

"Good Lord, I can't believe there are that many"

One-and-a-half million. Look at how adorable! https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mexican_free-tailed_bat

Back in college, a friend and I were watching them on their impressive nightly sortie to rid the city of mosquitos, and one flew straight into her head, startling them both somewhat. So much for that sonic radar superpower.

 

Now I want to read something bat-related. Maybe Dracula again?

[Stacia]

VC, you can never go wrong with Dracula! :thumbup1:

[Ali in OR]

I finished a few this week--Horrorstor, How to Raise an Adult, and Treat Your Own Shoulder. I think that puts me over 52--I'll update my list and post later if so.

 

Yes, a few months ago I read Treat Your Own Back by Robin McKenzie and I'm still doing the exercises regularly. I think I was about 80% healed from throwing out my back in July before I started the book and I healed up pretty quickly after starting the exercises. Would I have anyway? Perhaps, but as lifting a 76-pound person is part of my life long-term, I'm going to try to keep this body mechanically sound. So in September when I had been having should pain for a few weeks, Dr. Google told me it looked like rotator cuff issues, but not too major yet. So I ordered McKenzie's Treat Your Own Shoulder and have started those exercises too. Both my youngest and dh took a look at the author's book list on the back and said, "Oh look, you can get Treat Your Own Knee next." And I explained that I'm not trying to complete the whole set! (no knee problems yet).

 

Currently reading Go Set a Watchman, trying to get it done before Tuesday so I can lend it out to another book club member if needed. I'm about halfway now, and not liking where it's going. I can't accept this Atticus, so I'm mostly analyzing Harper Lee and what I think she was trying to process in writing both these books. More thoughts on that when I actually finish the book.

 

I kind of wanted to read Frankenstein this month, but alas the font size for my little paperback looks like it's about an 8. It's discouraging. Maybe I'll research Kindle versions, but mine doesn't download easily anymore so I may not. I did pick up a couple more books at the library--Rose Under Fire (Code Name Verity author) and How Not to Be Wrong (14 day non-fiction--may be skimming it!). I don't seem to be able to walk by a thoughtful display without grabbing something. Have a good week everyone.

[Rosie_0801]

I've been reading 'Wee Free Men' to dd. It's culture, it is.

 

I finished reading a kiddie version of Canterbury Tales to dd and we've almost finished listening to a Librivox recording of a kiddie Faerie Queen. I liked the former without expecting to. The latter has me wondering what the oldest book I don't hate is. I haven't read the unabridged Canterbury Tales yet, so I can't designate it the winner yet.

[Pam in CT]

And, the doubtless anxiously awaited

 

FAMILY BAT STORY #3 (this account is largely cribbed from a post on my old blog that I did at the time; there are more pictures there):

 

 

Three years ago my parents, husband, two younger children, and I took a road trip from Sydney Australia up to Cairns.  (Yeah.  We know, now.  On the map, it's just two or three inches!  No big deal!)  

We'd made our way to Yeppoon, a little coastal town.  We'd settled into our apartment and were just starting to sort out dinner when I learned, in my Googling local Stuff to Do — at 5:00 pm — that a large colony of black flying foxes lived in a nearby municipal park; and just like in Austin you could watch them all fly out at dusk.

I leapt into Mobilization Mode.  I didn’t really expect anyone but Stella to want to come with me — she is generally my sole (willing) companion when I follow bursts of inspiration like this; and also by this point we had already established that the crew was not that good at Rapid Mobilization — but to my surprise, everyone in the family hopped in the car.  Even my mother, who has a particular horror of all rodents which is only exacerbated when they can fly.

The colony lives in mangroves within the park that was marked on my map, but as we didn’t know exactly where we should position ourselves to get a good vantage point, we asked a local who was out taking his dog, along with a can of beer in a foam holder, for a walk.

“Sure don’t know why anyone would want to see them,†he replied laconically.

I must have raised my eyebrows or something in astonishment.  It was the first time on the whole, very long trip that a single Australian expressed a single reservation about a single of our plans, no matter how harebrained or dangerous.

“They stink something terrible,†he added.  â€œLot of people round here are trying to get rid of them, aren’t they?  They eat the crops and cause all sorts of problems.â€

“Er, so… you really can see them?â€

“Oh yeah.† He gestured vaguely down the path he and the dog had just come from.  â€œThey’re right in those trees, hey? Can’t miss ’em.† As if cued by the word “miss,†he gazed down rather mournfully at his presumably empty beer can.

“How big are they?†my mother inquired with more than a note of anxiety.

“Oh they’re right huge, aren’t they?†he replied.  â€œA meter or more across.† He looked her straight in the eye.  â€œAnd they poop on you, and they carry all sorts of diseases… if they scratch you, why you’re a goner, you are.  Have to go right to the hospital, nasty series of great big shots and half the time you’re still dead anyway.  Right?â€

My mother shuddered visibly.  â€œWell… maybe we should watch them from the car?†she suggested weakly.

“Oh yeah,†he agreed.  â€œThey’ll poop right on you, they will.  Nasty buggers, they are.â€

My mother blanched.

But we carried on.  First we strode along the mangroves and peeked into their depths:

They actually are surprisingly big…

… then we retreated to a playground where the kids enjoyed climbing…

… while the grownups enjoyed the sunset.

About ten minutes later, the first bats starting rising above the mangroves, sweeping in clockwise circles and making a tremendous racket.   As they raised the call, more and more joined them, still circling around:

and when they achieved a critical mass, they flew off, over our heads, in one narrow band, heading very purposely towards the shoreline:

Let the record note:
Not a single one of ’em pooped on a single one of us.

They carried on for a full twenty minutes, until the last of the light was gone…

 

They don’t carry rabies, nor eat the crops (though they do pollinate), but it is true that their wingspans are up to a meter across.

It was grand.

We were absolutely the only people there.

After the show was over, we wandered across the street and found a restaurant for dinner.  The hostess, as is typical in Australia, welcomed us warmly and asked “where are youse from?† When we told her we were from the US, she smiled warmly and asked, as is typical in Australia, “and are you enjoying your holiday here?â€

“Yeah,†answered Tom.  â€œWe just watched the bats fly out—â€

“– oh, those.† She shuddered.  â€œI don’t… care for them, myself…â€

When I got back, I looked it up, and sure enough, throughout Yeppoon and the Rockhampton area there is a significant movement to clearcut the mangroves and drive them out.  Until 2008 it was legal, even encouraged, to kill them.

It’s quite weird, actually.  These folks who are perfectly blase about box jellies, saltwater crocs, sharks and snakes have heebie jeebies about fruit-eating bats?

PSA to Yeppoon: Bats are a multi-million dollar business in Austin, folks.  There is a real opportunity for somebody with a bit of chicken wire, some fiberglass and a pot of paint to construct a Big Bat with a cafe and a gift shop inside.  And let the money roll in.

[Stacia]

Wow, Pam. What gorgeous photos. I love the one with the bats hanging in the mangrove trees.

[Kareni]

Early this morning I finished A Death at the Dionysus Club (Julian Lynes and Ned Mathey series Book 2) by Melissa Scott and Amy Griswold; if you have Kindle Unlimited, I see the book is free.  I'd mentioned having read the first book in the series yesterday; the content of this book was not quite as behind closed doors as it was in that book.  I'd suggest reading the books in order so as to benefit from the development of both the world building and the relationship between the two leads.  I'd happily read more in this series, but there appear to be only two books to date.  Ah, a little searching found this on one of the authors' websites, "We've tentatively scheduled the next full-length Mathey and Lynes novel, DEATH UNDER FALSE PRETENSES, to be completed in early 2017."

 

"In the sequel to Lambda Literary Award-winning Death by Silver, metaphysician Ned Mathey and private detective Julian Lynes again challenge magical and murderous threats in a Victorian London not quite the city in our history books. Mathey is recruited by Scotland Yard to assist the new Metaphysical Crimes Squad in the case of a literally heartless corpse. Mathey soon discovers that the magic used to rob the man of his heart and life does not conform to the laws of modern metaphysics and then a second victim turns up. Meanwhile, a minor poet hires Lynes to track down and stop the blackmailer threatening to reveal him as the pseudonymous author of popular romances. When another target of the same blackmailer, a friend of Mathey's assistant Miss Frost, appeals for aid, Lynes and Mathey begin to suspect murders and blackmail are connected. Digging deep into the clandestine worlds of lawless antique magic and the gay demimonde, Mathey and Lynes must uncover the source and nature of a heart-stealing supernatural creature before it can kill them too, even as they face the scandal of exposing themselves as sodomites in order to close the case."

 

Regards,

Kareni

 

 

[redsquirrel]

So I finished Song of Achilles last week, and then I read something called "In the Shadow of Blackbirds"  It was a Big Read so there seem to have been an unlimited number of ebooks available. I checked it out on a whim.  I didn't like one little bit.  It is YA gothic romance, I think?  Anyway, I found it predictable and silly. 

 

Then, just when I was feeling despair about my reading prospects I got notice that BOTH Ferrante's Those Who Leave and Those Who Stay AND Weir's The Martian were available to borrow!  Sheesh!  So, I had better get a hustle on because those books aren't going to read themselves.

[mumto2]

I read Tessa Bailey's Need Me this afternoon. https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22836655-need-me. It is the second in her Broke and Beautiful trilogy, which probably could be read out of order. The basic storyline was good but the book had pages and pages of adult content, way more than the first one. I think a bit more story might have been nice! I do plan to go ahead and read the last one but this one just seemed a bit lacking after the first one.

[mumto2]

Pam, I meant to thank you for all the hilarious bat stories. I think I like your dh's bat fighting costume the best! I may not like bats but I do appreciate the insect eating abilities. After living in dorms with bats during college I will never be comfortable with them.

 

I have also seen what an awful mess they make when they move into a historic building and cannot legally be removed. We partner with a church that has bats. Pews must be covered, really everything covered which isn't feasible. Never ending battle in a building remarkably similar to ours, style and age. Everytime my name comes up on the cleaning rota I am very grateful for no bats! Just dusting my half of the pews takes a really long time.....

[JennW in SoCal]

Just saw this on the "new releases" shelf at Barnes and Noble, and it made me laugh!  Was on a mission to find something else, so didn't stop to flip through it, but it actually sounds pretty cool...

 

Bats of the Republic: An Illuminated Novel by Zachary Thomas Dodson

[Pam in CT]

I knew bats were going to be right up there with rhubarb.

[Stacia]

Just saw this on the "new releases" shelf at Barnes and Noble, and it made me laugh!  Was on a mission to find something else, so didn't stop to flip through it, but it actually sounds pretty cool...

 

Bats of the Republic: An Illuminated Novel by Zachary Thomas Dodson

 

This was on the bat list I posted (I think the author is the one who wrote the bat list). And, once I looked it up, I thought it looked cool & immediately ordered it last week. So much for book self-control.... :blushing: It should arrive in the next couple of days.

 

Since I may not get to it for a bit, I figured I might not even open the box when it comes, but rather pass the box on to my dh & tell him he can give it to me at Xmas. :lol: 

 

In the meantime, I grabbed The Folly today & read it. I enjoyed it & yet I'm not sure what to think of it. Pam, I would agree with you that it may be an allegory, but of what? I see strong influences of religion & also strong references to today's cultural mores. Interesting & different book. I need to go back & read Jane's & idnib's comments too. Thanks, Jane, for sending it to me so I got to enjoy it too! Who is the next BaWer that would like to read it? Let me know & I'll get it in the mail to you as it makes its way through the BaWers.... :thumbup1:

 

[Stacia]

Ok, so I just went back & read Jane's & idnib's comments on The Folly, another lovely little Archipelago book.

 

Just some ramblings....

 

Strong hints of allegory with naming conventions, using "New House", "Mr", "Mrs".

 

Is Nieuwenhuizen = Jesus? Mr = disciple? Mrs = doubter?

 

Is Nieuwenhuizen = old days/imagination? Mr = link between old & new? Mrs = new/consumer culture?

 

Is Nieuwenhuizen = child? Mr = adult pining for lost childhood? Mrs = adult?

 

Gotta run. Maybe more later.

[Pam in CT]

This was on the bat list I posted (I think the author is the one who wrote the bat list). And, once I looked it up, I thought it looked cool & immediately ordered it last week. So much for book self-control.... :blushing: It should arrive in the next couple of days.

 

Since I may not get to it for a bit, I figured I might not even open the box when it comes, but rather pass the box on to my dh & tell him he can give it to me at Xmas. :lol:

 

In the meantime, I grabbed The Folly today & read it. I enjoyed it & yet I'm not sure what to think of it. Pam, I would agree with you that it may be an allegory, but of what? I see strong influences of religion & also strong references to today's cultural mores. Interesting & different book. I need to go back & read Jane's & idnib's comments too. Thanks, Jane, for sending it to me so I got to enjoy it too! Who is the next BaWer that would like to read it? Let me know & I'll get it in the mail to you as it makes its way through the BaWers.... :thumbup1:

 

 

 

Ok, so I just went back & read Jane's & idnib's comments on The Folly, another lovely little Archipelago book.

 

Just some ramblings....

 

Strong hints of allegory with naming conventions, using "New House", "Mr", "Mrs".

 

Is Nieuwenhuizen = Jesus? Mr = disciple? Mrs = doubter?

 

Is Nieuwenhuizen = old days/imagination? Mr = link between old & new? Mrs = new/consumer culture?

 

Is Nieuwenhuizen = child? Mr = adult pining for lost childhood? Mrs = adult?

 

Gotta run. Maybe more later.

 

Right - in Afrikaans, Niewenhuizen = "new house," and Malgas = "albatross," and for a while there Mr. calls Niewenhuizen (because he's told to!) "Father."  Thus the suspicion of wandering in Allegory.

 

Spoiler in white:

 

And then the New House turns out to be... imaginary.  Delusional, even, and/or a hoax.  And then Niewenhuizen ups and disappears.  Leaving a whole lot of crap (literally) behind.  And what of Malgas?  Well.  I, um, actually don't know!

[idnib]

Pam, maybe delete the spoiler? The book is still making the rounds in the group.

 

Hmmm. Now that the meanings of the words has been made more explicit, I'm also wondering about allegory.

[Pam in CT]

Oh, Excellent Point.  Sorry about that.  Going back now to try to learn how to do the white font thing.  Sorry!

[Butter]

I finished Magnus Chase and the Sword of Summer.  It was excellent.  There were a few little nods for people who have read other Rick Riordan books and, since Magnus and Annabeth are cousins, it's clear Annabeth with be in the other books, too.  Riordan really seems to do better with trilogies so I am hopeful the next two books will be equally as good as this one.