Shadowboxing

I love shadowboxes though, unfortunately, I don't own any. I've been meaning for years to try and create one of my own - still haven't done it. Although, in a way, my whole house is my own, very personal shadow box. Lots of crafters do shadow boxes on various and sundry topics, but very few (in my humble opinion) qualify as artists.

When it comes to Shadow Boxes As Art, there's no one better than Tracy W. Hambley. I first saw her boxes in Mary Englebreit's magazine years ago and I've never forgotten them. See what you think, here's Tracy's blog.

Wouldn't it be great to have a box designed around some sort of central literary topic? A scene from a favorite book? A favorite reading genre? A favorite author? A favorite book cover? The mind wanders, but you get the gist of what I'm saying - right? It would be a very cool thing.

Here are some topics off the top of my head: Agatha Christie, Harry Potter, Alice in Wonderland, Nancy Drew, your favorite vampire novel...see where I'm going with this?

No Sex Please, We're Cozies

Jeff Cohen's books always make me laugh. His sense of humor is somewhat similar to mine, so I usually get a kick out of what he has to say, or more importantly perhaps, what his characters have to say. (Isn't that the same thing you might ask...hmmm, maybe.) Hey, how could you not like a guy who is the Numero Uno Marx Brothers fan in the world? He's big on Mel Brooks too. (Though we have a bit of a taste difference in the film, Young Frankenstein: he LOVES it, I merely like it. But hey, no body's perfect.)

Here's a link to his latest blog tirade...well, not so much a tirade, as a, well, yeah, what the heck, it is a tirade. Sort of. Hey, There's A Dead Guy in the Living Room is the name of the blog, Let's Talk About Sex is the post.

Jeff is talking about sex in cozy mysteries, that invisible occurrence - we do agree it must occur somewhere, sometime, or else where do all the little kiddies come from? Just no writing about it. No sex in cozies, no curse words, no dead dogs or cats or other furry creatures. There, Jeff and I agree wholeheartedly. A dead dog is the kiss of death. The wise cozy writer will refrain. Even if it would make a cat laugh.

I love cozy mysteries. Especially in this heightened anniversary year of the greatest dame of all, Agatha Christie. Not that she should be thought of as strictly a cozy writer - she is, was, a Grande Dame of the Golden Age of Mystery, after all. But you know what I mean.

It's not that cozies aren't seething with stirrings of sex. Cozies very much can be...seething, but usually only in a jolly kind of way. (Not that ALL cozies are necessarily funny, but in general, quite a lot of them can be.) Just no talking about sex. And yet, bumping someone off does indicate, in as drastic a way as possible, that some sort of dark emotion (maybe even sexual) lurks, at least in the bosom of the killer. But in cozies, any sex must be handled off-stage (along with the murder), imagined by the reader. It's there all right, just slightly off in the shadows somewhere. I don't know about you but I don't mind that at all. I have a rather vivid imagination after all.

And don't get me started on cursing, dammit.

P.S. Lee Child's stalwart, intimidating, stop-at-nothing, take-no-prisoners hero, Jack Reacher doesn't curse either.

Agatha Christie - 120 Years

If I hadn't been so busy grumbling and sneering out the window at the weather and the NY Times (a paper I normally love), I'd have posted this sooner.

This month, on the 15th to be exact, the Grande Dame of Mystery Writers, Agatha Christie, would have been 120 years old. Second only to the Bible is book selling popularity, Christie's books are beloved by millions of mystery reading fans all over the world. (Including me.) In honor of Christie, there are many on-going and up-coming anniversary doings in the real as well as blogging world. Here's a link to Janet Rudolph's blog, Mystery Fanfare in which she explains the hoopla and points out the sites of various Christie celebrations. Another link here leads you to Kerrie Smith of Mysteries in Paradise, who has organized the exciting Agatha Christie 120 Blog Tour. You can read more about the Tour and the Christie Reading Challenge at Kerrie's blog.

I first began reading Agatha Christie books when I was a young girl, discovered her after I'd finished my share of Nancy Drews and Dana Girls and was looking around for more 'grown up' mysteries. I don't remember the very first Christie book I read, but I have a feeling it was The Seven Dials Mystery. Wouldn't swear to it though. After that there was no stopping me. I read all the Christie books I could get my hands on and I've been doing it ever since. I believe I've read every book and short story in the Christie canon, except for the Egyptian book. I still re-read my favorites every once in awhile. In fact, when I'm ill, nothing will do but an Agatha Christie mystery. For me, they are the ultimate in comfort reading. I don't even bother to note them on my yearly reading list anymore since they are so second nature to me.

Towards the end of 2008, I was diagnosed with breast cancer and almost immediately had to have a mastectomy. The day before surgery, my dear mother passed away. To say it was not an easy time for me is a mild understatement. But with the help of family and friends, I managed to get through the roughest few weeks I've ever experienced. In a way, I like to think that Agatha Christie was one of those friends because, when I felt like reading, it was her books I turned to. When I was feeling truly down, especially during the chemo crapola, I could often find escape in my favorite Christie books.

Many years ago, I had the good fortune to visit England, Scotland and Wales for three weeks, and one of the very first things we did once we arrived in London, was go to the theater to see Christie's long running play, The Mousetrap. It was an unforgettable play, an unforgettable night.

I've always credited Dame Agatha with my lifelong interest in all things British. Remarkably, her books helped turn me, a girl from the lower east side of Manhattan, into an Anglophile from the very first.

Time for the Big Books

Checking out the Times book section. Uh-oh.

There's little (if anything) I find remotely interesting in this Fall's new releases heralded by the Times. What is wrong with me? The new books I'm waiting for (none too patiently) are listed on my sidebar to the left. (Under the heading: New Books I Am Especially Looking Forward to Reading.) Am I so far off the mainstream? Possibly. Not that I give a fig. Just thought I'd mention it.

According to this piece in the NY Times, Beach Reads Finished, It's Time for the Big Books, by Julie Bosman - Fall is the time for the Good Stuff. (My wording, not theirs.) But this year's version of Big Books sounds like a giant yawn to me. Except for David Sedaris.

And I see that the Times is featuring a second review of C by Tom McCarthy, this one by Jennifer Eagan. This may be because the last reviewer Michiko Kakutani, called McCarthy's book, ...disappointing and highly self conscious... Of course, I imagine this was before the book made the upper cut for the Man Booker Prize. Interesting. Although perhaps it's a good thing to have yay and nay reviews when a book is up for such a vaunted prize.

It occurs to me that I might be sounding a bit snotty and snippy - I blame the weather. And the unpalatable fact that the Mets are losing yet again - 3-0 to the Phillies. Sigh.

A Sunday Grumble

Nothing much to write about today. It's a dreary, rainy Sunday that's neither hot nor cold, just kind of in between so your body temperature runs itself ragged trying to regulate itself and all that happens is you wind up feeling out-of-sorts. It's humid, of course, and that wears me out in and of itself. I can stand just about anything but damp and humidity. Ugh. What's worse - hot humidity or cold?

In the meantime, waiting for the baseball games to begin (if rain doesn't shut them down), I'm reading a couple of recommended books and liking them very much: Miss Hargreaves by Frank Taylor and Time Travelers Never Die by Jack McDevitt. I've already finished Down the Rabbit Hole by Peter Abrahams, another recommendation I liked, but don't want to write about until I finish the Taylor and McDevitt books. It'll be a kind of trifecta of agreeableness. (These are part of last week's Library Loot.) Three very different books with not much in common except they're all three well-written and all contain different lengths of mysterious thread. In my classics reading (I suppose that Conrad is regarded as a classic), I'm still struggling a bit through Joseph Conrad's The Secret Agent. The book just has such a dreary core that I hesitate to get back to it when I'm feeling out of sorts. But eventually I'll finish it. I'd like to think I read at least one or two literary classics a year without actually being prompted to do so. It makes me feel very virtuous.

(The expression on the face of Tim Burton's March Hare matches mine today.) Ha!

Remember, Remember That Day in September

Cat Among the Pigeons by Agatha Christie

There's an Agatha Christie Challenge going around the blogs in honor of what would have been the beloved writer's 120th birthday this month. I didn't sign up, mostly because this blog is a new gig for me and I'm still feeling my way around, but also because I don't like reading under deadline. However, that doesn't mean I won't EVER join in a challenge, it just means that for now I'm trying to figure things out - there are so many of them! I am a person who is easily side-tracked, so I want to make sure I know what's what before I dive in. It is fun though to go from blog to blog to see who's writing what about the great Agatha and her books.

I even found out, from Miss Lemon's blog that the archeologist Max Mallowan, Miss Christie's second husband, had written a memoir. Who knew? I plan on reading it, of course.

I usually re-read Cat Among the Pigeons around this time of year just for the fun of it. Part of my autumn ritual. It's a back-to-school book since most of the action takes place at Meadowbank, an exclusive English boarding school for girls. To my mind, the book is also one of Christie's jewels of characterization. (Though some claim Christie lacks that particular strength, I disagree. This book, one among many, is proof enough for me of her talent for characterization.) The crimes themselves and the solution, spring from the types of character these people have.

This is a Hercule Poirot mystery although he does not make his appearance until about three quarters of the way into the book, so that in itself is a bit unusual. But once he does, the cat is then really among the pigeons. Though I wonder too, if Christie didn't mean the murderer when she coined the title. Either/or. Up until that point the build-up of the story is revealed to us from the varying viewpoints of several different characters beginning with a second chapter set in a small, revolution-prone Middle Eastern principality. An Arab prince and his commoner friend, an Englishman, make a desperate attempt to flee for their lives, a small package is hidden, a sharp-eyed observer who happens to be in the right place at the right time sees something she was not meant to see and events are swiftly set into motion leading, incongruously, back to the hallowed grounds of Meadowbrook, an exclusive and very uppercrust English institution.

Cat Among the Pigeons is part spy thriller and part mystery with international complications. One of several intriguing characters who make an appearance is the redoubtable Mr. Robinson, the enigmatic and mysterious money man, the behind-the-scenes intimate of governments who shows up now and then in Christies' books.

As the school year begins at Meadowbank once again, Miss Bulstrode, the formidable headmistress and founder of the school, is thinking seriously of retiring, turning the reins over to someone else. She is feeling her age and wonders if the school is becoming too settled in its ways. But to whom can she turn? Meadowbanks is her own creation, the result of years of unflinching devotion and hard work. All over Europe, well -to-do families send their daughters to Meadowbank, secure in the knowledge that they will be well educated, but more importantly, will graduate from Meadowbanks as finished ladies. Who ever takes over for Miss Bulstrode must be fashioned of a certain mettle. But, after all, there is only one Miss Bulstrode.

That first hectic day of school, there are the usual disruptions and distractions from parents, students, teachers, new members of staff settling in, the arrival of cars, limousines, one after the other, depositing one young girl after another, daughters of the rich and famous, among them a Middle-Eastern princess. Humdrum and to be expected, but Miss Bulstrode feels uneasy. She can't help but feel she's overlooked something important.

Murder at Meadowbank is not only unexpected, it is unthinkable. And yet, when it happens it doesn't come as much of a surprise to the reader. What are we here for after all? Still, it is one of Christie's most interesting and, in many ways, most forbidding settings, a place so exalted that even the whisper of scandal can demolish years of hard work. Can Meadowbank survive multiple murders? Will Miss Bulstrode retire? Is that a moot question in light of events? Will there be enough school left to hand over to anyone? Oh, and who is the murderer and where will they strike next?

Cat Among the Pigeons features several of Agatha Christie's most engaging characters, among them the young (15 years old) but astute Julia Upjohn - she and her friend Jennifer appear to be at the heart of the mystery. They behave entirely in keeping with their differing personalities, Julia eventually acting on an idea that helps propel the mystery to its solution.

If I have any quibble at all with anything, it's the idea that a certain character would notice something at the beginning, something exquisitely important, and not follow up with a query to someone, after all, her daughter is attending the school. But, at the same time, that person's personality allows for this sort of oversight, so my quibble is not a major one.

This particular book has a terrific ending (not so unusual in an Agatha Christie mystery), complete with a very last minute arrival of an important witness, a startling denouement and a delivery of a package by Mr. Robinson himself, to a character who, up until the last couple of pages we'd never even known existed. Love it.

Sharing the Anger

Author S.J. Rozan interrupted her blog to let off steam about certain crazy-making, brain-busting news events happening or about to happen in NYC and Florida and I was so moved by her outrage, her straight-from-the-gut post that I wanted to share it. I love S.J. Rozan's work. Her last book in the Lydia Chin/Bill Smith series, Shanghai Moon was nothing short of brilliant and I can't wait to read her new book in the series, On the Line. Having said that, I must also say that I rarely pay attention to an author's politics. (Although if an author came out in favor of Sarah Palin's policies, I'd have to, very seriously, question their brainpower and motivation.)

S.J. is worried about the human condition as am I, she's also worried about what's happening in downtown Manhattan, as am I. She's worried, too, about the kind of world this is shaping up to be. As we all should be.

Here's the link to A.J. Rozan's blog.

No, I am not turning this into a political blog in any way, shape or form, but you know, once in awhile, you gotta' look up, look around and pay attention. Especially on the eve of the anniversary of one of the most momentous and heartbreaking days in our history.

Gender Bias in Reading and Reviewing: Conscious or Not?

If you want to know a bit more about the brou-ha-ha going on over at the NY Times, stirred up by their book critics' seeming frenzy over author Jonathan Franzen (two reviews of his book in the same week!) and their rather obvious preference for white male authors, here's a good link from The New Republic. Everyone seems to have an opinion on this and I'm no different, so I thought I'd wade in here for a bit.

But first here's another link on this very subject from The Reading Ape blog. There are, obviously, other comments and posts swirling around out there, but I've narrowed it down to these two for now.

(I have nothing to say specifically about Franzen's writing since I don't read him. But I also don't read Jodi Picoult or Jennifer Weiner.)

I like that The Reading Ape was clever enough and manly enough to state his own uneasiness about the topic, his own seeming preference for male authors. I like that he's promised to do better, playing catch-up on some of the really fine female writers he's overlooked throughout the years.

But at the same time, I ask myself: why shouldn't a person read exactly what he or she wants to read - what writers he or she likes, for whatever reason? Why should the P.I. police have anything to say about our reading choices?

Who has a right to tell me I should read more male or female writers? Explain to me what I'm missing if I read mostly male writers? Mostly female? Does a writer's gender have anything to do with anything? And even if it does, even if sex is the guiding light that creates a literary masterpiece (which I completely doubt), who can prove it? Who is to prove it? Not anyone of the critics I've ever read. History has always been skewered towards the male point of view. For me, that's a given.

An admission: I'm feeling mighty smug because it turns out, I read male and female authors almost on a 50/50 basis, well maybe 40/60 either way, but I promise you I have never bought a book or borrowed a book based consciously on the sex of the author. My general criteria is this: is the book any good? Does it fit my own personal criteria of 'good' writing? Beyond that: Is the story something I'd probably like? Are the characters people I might want to know something about? Does the book have a beginning, a middle and an end? (I admit I'm prone to books with a beginning, a middle and an end, though not always.) It's all subjective of course, all based on who I am, the person I am right now, my own life experience and expectations, my own appreciation of certain types of writing and story-telling. What do I, as a female, bring to a book? (Emerson was entirely correct when he observed: No two people read the same book.) Do I bring a particularly female bent? Of course, I must. I am not, after all, a gender neutral being.

Okay then, might I not lean towards certain types of writing - female, rather than male? Or might it work the other way around? Does a female write a certain type of prose as opposed to a male? And am I conscious of this when I make my reading selections? Was Rex Stout correct when he had Nero Wolfe claim that no woman was capable of writing a great novel? Well, except for Jane Austen, of course. Was she the exception that proved the rule? Wolfe always grumbled about this and I always laughed, his obvious misogyny never put me off. (I wondered if this was Rex Stout's misogyny as well, but this never put me off either.)

Is there an inherently female way of writing? An inherently male way? Aren't ideas gender neutral? Is talent? Genius? Creative ability of any kind? And should I, as a female, lean towards one sex or the other because of my own sexual identity? Should a male lean towards male authors for the same reason? Or can it be just the opposite? Because women still seem to be playing catch-up in the arts, should the Times bend over backwards to review even more books by women at the expense of male authors? (Well, at the very least, you'd think they'd try for 50/50.) Is any of this a conscious thing at all?

I'll bet it isn't.

But now that the Times has been made glaringly aware of its supposed faults, shouldn't it try harder to balance their critiques and reviews? Yeah, I'm sure they will, probably without admitting they found a fault to begin with. Are two glowing reviews of the same book within the same week, a bit much? Well, yeah. But sometimes enthusiasms carry us away. I'm going to assume that's what happened at the Times.

Notice I haven't said anything about the supposed bias of the Times and other papers and journals towards literary writing as opposed to commercial and/or genre writing. That's another topic for another day. Though I can't help but add that, of course, the bias is towards work seen as more literary, everyone, consciously or not, wants to dress to impress.

Here are my own prejudices writ large, when it comes to the gender of the writer of any book I happen to be reading:

Firstly, I tend to read authors I've read before (so this is a kind of re-generating thing), though I also make a point to search out authors I'm not familiar with through blogs, reviews and recommendations from friends. I think in this way I create a nice balance. I admit I am an all over the place reader in that I tend to prefer a variety of topics and styles, including non-fiction.

I believe that women can and mostly do write as well as men and that men, can and mostly do write as well as women. But over my many, many years of reading, I have to say I've found differences - some subtle, some not-so-much. Yet I can honestly say that I have never, to my knowledge, consciously chosen a book based on the gender of the author.

Okay, having said that, I will admit to certain prejudices that may or may not sub-consciously steer me towards an author, male or female.

1) I tend to think women write a better 'cozy' mystery. Probably because I naturally think that women know a bit more about being cozy and comfortable then men do. I did say this was my own prejudice.

2) I tend to think that men write funnier books. Or at least, my sense of humor matches a certain type of male writer - how's that? Although Sparkle Hayter's books make me laugh out loud to the point of falling off the sofa, as do Janet Evanovich's early Stephanie Plum books and Elizabeth Peters' Amelia Peabody books. Hmmm, maybe it's time for me to reevaluate this particular prejudice.

3) When it comes to the specific 'locked room' school of mystery, men rule.

4) When it comes to non-fiction, I also seem to lean towards male writers. Though obviously, it's all about the subject matter first, in non-fiction. Maybe it's just that men write more about the subjects that interest me. - simple as that.

But I am happy to say that when it comes to (almost) every other sort of book, I am an equal opportunity reader. Although, sad to say: I am still lacking in my reading of African American,

Middle Eastern, Asian and Latin authors. Probably because I am an Anglophile from way back and I have a few inflexible expectations of the books I do read. Hey, I never said I was perfect.

(An aside: My feeling is that men writing from a female point of view tend to do a slightly better job than women writing from a male point of view. Why that should be I still haven't figured out, though I have my suspicions.)

What about you? What do you think of all this? Have you noticed any kind of reading preference in yourself, one gender over the other? Is this all a mountain made out of a molehill? Or is it a mountain that should have been climbed and conquered a long time ago? Is it even a mountain worth conquering?

Shopping for Rocky

Well, it was bound to happen after two years of frantic tugging hither and yon - Rocky's little blue harness snapped. Checked out Wal-Mart but their selection was limited and they had nothing in his size which is just short of a watermelon with legs. (I am ashamed to say my boy needs to, maybe, diet down a size.) Decided to wait and make do, but didn't like the whole idea of using a chancy halter and leash combo. (I'm not crazy, either, about all the look-a-like stuff in Petco. That's where the original boring blue halter and leash came from.)

So we went on down to the pet boutique in town - you should see all the cute stuff they have there, omg! I mean, some of it defies even my imagination - ha! My favorites: a little yellow rain slicker and a hooded sweatshirt, perfect for foul winter weather. Rocky already has a ski jacket, though he doesn't ski...yet. After much trial and error (Rocky behaved himself and allowed us to fuss over him with different size halters for about a half hour. He was remarkably well-behaved. I was very proud of him.), we found a nice strong combo made in the USA, that fits him very well.

Color? A kind of minty green with little arfs, bow-wows and grrs printed all over it. Awww! Yeah, I know, I know, can't help it. He's my little doggy boy. He looks very handsome now walking down the street and today we went for an extra long walk. I'll soon whip him back into shape. Luckily the harness is adjustable.

(No new picture to show yet, just a painting I did of him last year - scanned slightly lop-sided on the page.)

Chatting About Audio Books

I was reading Lyn's audio books post over at her I Prefer Reading blog and liked it so much, I wanted to share it with you. I love audio books as well. Though I haven't listened to a huge amount, I think I've listened to my fair share. A book in the ear is a great thing while you're doing chores, or in certain work spaces, or walking a dog, or exercising or taking long trips. I have a friend who regularly travels with her husband for long driving distances and they make the time fly by listening to books in the car. They've practically gone through all of Sue Grafton's books that way plus discovered a few authors they might not have 'read' otherwise.

I've been listening to books on and off for years, from way back when they were still on cassette. Mostly I listen while I work at my drawing table or fiddle about with the computer. For whatever reason, I prefer to listen to books I've already read. But now and then I break my own rule. Lyn mentioned the Peter Whimsey audios and they sound like something I'd love. I read the books years ago and this will be a way to renew my acquaintance. The Georgette Heyer audios also sound very appealing. Not to mention the P.G. Wodehouse books (which I haven't' read yet, but I'll throw caution to the winds and listen to them anyway).

In the past I've listened to, among others, The Book Thief by Markus Zusak beautifully read by Alan Gorduner. Pride and Prejudice read by actress Susannah York, a couple of early Amanda Quick books (I don't like the books she's written in the past few years, so I just stick with her early stuff), Agatha Christie's Murder on the Orient Express read by David Suchet (who else?). Blood Money by Thomas Perry, a Jane Whitefield book read by Karesa McElheny. And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie, read by Hugh Fraser. (He plays Hastings, Poirot's sidekick in several of the PBS mysteries and he has the most elegant speaking voice.) Smokescreen by Dick Francis, read by Edward Woodward. Chance, a Spenser novel by Robert Parker read by Burt Reynolds - yes, Burt Reynolds (he's okay but he doesn't do a Boston accent at all) and a couple of the Harry Potter books read by Jim Dale who is truly amazing.

Some of my absolute favorites have also been the Amelia Peabody books, Crocodile on the Sandbank and The Curse of the Pharaohs read by the wonderful Barbara Rosenblat who captures Amelia's acerbic wit and spirit perfectly. She becomes Amelia, you can't ask for more than that. I've also enjoyed Jenny Sterlin's reading of Laurie R. King's O Jerusalem and The Moor, both part of the Mary Russell and Sherlock Holmes series. A series I declare one of the best Sherlock Holmes pastiches ever, if not the best. King makes Holmes a flesh and blood man, something that even Conan Doyle failed to do.

I also recommend His Majesty's Dragon by Naomi Novik read by Simon Vance who is called upon to give actual voice to a dragon and does so. These Temeraire dragon books by Novik make up a very special series even for those who do not like fantasy or dragons or what not.

I never did either and yet, these books are on my own personal list of Favorite Books Ever. Film maker Peter Jackson of LOTR fame has optioned the books, last I heard, and hopefully, one of these years we'll see Temeraire come to life on film. I, for one, simply cannot wait.

These brilliantly conceived books are set during the Napoleonic Wars, so they mix actual history with the fantasy of a dragon aerial corps engaged in the fighting between France and England. I cannot urge you enough to pick up one of these books and have a look - begin at the beginning of course, with His Majesty's Dragon, either by audio or on the printed page. I've never read anything like them and I doubt I ever will.

Well, not a very long audio list, but I intend to do better. Reading other people's audio choices has gotten me interested once again in making the effort to get my ears engaged. Audio books have a kind of soothing quality to them, like being read to when you're feeling a bit under the weather except you're not under the weather but you're still being read to. I like it.

My Favorite Time of Year

Tomorrow the school term begins here in New Jersey and I, for one, couldn't be happier. Not because I still have any kids in school - no, my daughter is an adult with a husband, an infant daughter and a career - rather I love the beginning of school because it is a harbinger. For me, the year actually begins in Fall, my favorite season. On my walks with Rocky in the morning, I love seeing the cumbersome yellow school buses making their way down my narrow street, holding up traffic and generally making pleasant nuisances of themselves. (This is the year that Rocky gets a sweatshirt to wear on windy days. I finally found one that is perfect and he won't be embarrassed to wear.)

Though the leaves are still green, to me a yellow school bus says - no, shouts! - FALL IS HERE! Even if you can't yet smell a trace of chilly Autumn air, you can smell the diesel fuel. If the buses are out, then it's official: the heat of summer (and this year has been ghastly) will soon be a memory. Baseball season is ending - I am a fan, the pennant races are on, the World Series looms on the October horizon. The good movies, read: Oscar worthy movies, will begin to hit theaters in order to qualify for the awards season. The new tv season sort of begins. By mid-August, Halloween decorations had already appeared, as if by magic, in stores. Too soon, too soon, we say every year. September, October and November will, as usual, fly by in a blur, then comes Christmas, another year ends and one begins and we settle into the gray delirium of January, February and March.

But before that happens, we get the yellow, red and orange extravaganza of the Fall season, happy pumpkins on the front porch, the furor of Halloween and the celebration of Thanksgiving. (In a way the forgotten holiday, design-wise, though you wouldn't know it by Martha Stewart or any of the other decorating magazines whose holiday exuberance - 1,000 new ways to cook turkey! - is somehow reassuring.) Then blink an eye and it's Christmas once again. I've always felt that December 26th is the most disappointing day of the year. I mean, it's all over but the hollow pretense of the shrillest night of the year, New Year's Eve.

The older I get, the faster it goes. Sometimes it feels as if I just have to turn around once and a another season begins, turn around twice and it's over.

One of the books I especially like to read this time of year, every year, is Cat Among the Pigeons by Agatha Christie. It partly takes place at a girls' boarding school in England. Though it is a Hercule Poirot mystery, he doesn't actually enter the book until the last quarter, summoned by a very enterprising young school girl to solve the mysterious goings-on, including murder, at her school. Though it's been said that characterization was never Agatha Christie's strong suit, you couldn't prove it by this book. It is brilliant characterization that helps bring about the denouement in this terrific mystery. Besides, I love the ending.

No Halloween reading list yet. Wouldn't want to be accused of rushing things.

Note: the painting of autumn birches is by artist Lynda Newell.

Happy Labor Day Weekend!

Not much to say except that, no matter where you are today and tomorrow, I hope it's a good weekend for you. I had dinner out last night with family and friends and had a wonderful time.

I don't know about you, but I happen to love restaurant food. Well, great restaurant food, anyway. I always say if I ever win the Super-Duper Lottery, I'm eating out every night. (Or, at the very least, hiring a cook.) Good food, a couple of glasses of good wine, family, friends and oh yes, my beautiful granddaughter who slept through the whole thing - noisy restaurant chatter seems to work like white noise for her little baby ears, didn't faze her one bit. Life is good.

Rocky (my chihuahua) was miffed he wasn't included and gave me that gimlet eye he uses on special occasions. He doesn't understand why restaurants don't allow his type through their hallowed doors.(Come to think of it, I don't understand it either.) He reminds me that if we lived in France, he'd be sitting next to me, sampling the food with no problems. And by the way, why don't we move to France? I made believe I didn't hear him.

It's another gorgeous day here, for a change. (The second in a row - are we in for a trend?) The weather couldn't be more agreeable or accommodating. Have a great weekend everyone!

Last Long Weekend of Summer

Labor Day is upon us once again - the unofficial end of summer. Time for a picnic or barbecue or a sandwich on the front porch. A book or two wouldn't be amiss. There's a hurricane headed up the coast (Earl, by name) so the weather in the northeast will be a little chancy. So far though, for us here in northwest New Jersey, no rain. Yet.

These charmingly old fashioned illustrations by the wonderful Racey Helps will help set the mood, even if the weather doesn't.

Library Loot

Had to run some local errands, almost had heat stroke - it is unbearable today. I mean, we're talking Sahara desert heat + humidity. I don't think I can remember ever having lived through such a ghastly summer, heat-wise. Of course I left Rocky at home. Even though chihuahuas orignally come from Mexico, I fear the heat today would have done my little boy in.

Anyway, I'm back from the library with an armful of books I'm really looking forward to reading. (When that will be, your guess is as good as mine, since I still have a stack of library books waiting to be read from the last time I ventured forth. It is a never-ending merry-go-round. But in a good way.) What to read first??

I don't know much about the books I'm showing above except that they've been recommended and seem to be the kind of thing I'd like. As you can tell, my reading taste is all over the place. I just gather a bunch of books around me, then pick and choose. I'd rather own the book I'm reading, but the library sure is handy when getting to know certain authors you may have heard of and never read for one reason or another. This way you're not out any cold, hard cash if you don't, God forbid, like the book.

One of the memes going around is a Time Travel Challenge and I thought about entering, but then remembered how much I dislike reading on deadline. Too much pressure! This is the only drawback about library reading, but my library is very liberal about renewing almost ad infinitum. The time travel book by Jack McDevitt, Time Travelers Never Die sounded too good to miss. I like time travel books, most especially those by Connie Willis. We'll see if McDevitt measures up to Willis. I'm asking for the moon, I know.

Down the Rabbit Hole by Peter Abrahams is the first in a series I'd never heard of before a couple of days ago. (Hey, I can't know everything!) But I learned that Abrahams is also Spencer Quinn the author of the ultra-fabulous Chet the Dog books, and really, that's all I needed to know. I am really looking forward to liking these books set in the small (and slightly sinister) town of Echo Falls. Author Stephen King gives this series a glowing recommendation which is nice to see. (Not that I read King, but I think he's a guy who knows a good book when he reads one. Oh, and this is a YA series. But you know, YA books seem to have come into their own lately.

I first heard about Down the Rabbit Hole from Nan over at Letters From A Hill Farm in one of her reviews. I check out her wonderful blog often.

Another YA book (sheer coincidence) I picked up today, When You Reach Me by Rebecca Stead. This one is set in NYC and appears to have a slight touch of the supernatural running through the story of a young girl, Miranda and her best friend Sal. From the front flap: This remarkable novel takes place in the real world but holds a fantastic puzzle at its heart. Recommended on several blogs as a great read for young and old alike.

Miss Hargreaves by Frank Baker was highly recommended by Simon over at the Stuck in A Book blog. Simon is what I call an against the tide reader, in other words, he reads books that are not necessarily current or best sellers or overly popular. He reads lots of literary stuff and writes about it in a very charming way. In other words: he reads what he likes. (Kind of like me though maybe I read more current books than he does, I know I read much less literary and more genre .) I like his blog very much.

Miss Hargreaves was written in 1940 and its author, Frank Baker died in 1983, but it has recently been re-released in trade paperback by the excellent publisher, The Bloomsbury Group. The story is another one with the touch of the supernatural about it. On a lark, Norman Huntley and his friend Henry invent a fictional friend, an old lady they name, Miss Hargreaves. Within a few days, inexplicably, she shows up on their doorstep. This book was also highly recommended by Nancy Pearl over on her blog. I take Nancy's recommendations especially seriously, so I was glad to see she too loved this book.

The Dark Vineyard by Martin Walker is the sequel to a book I liked very much and reviewed a few days ago: Bruno - Chief of Police. I can't wait to see what's been happening in the little French village of Saint-Denis. Another murder or two, seems most likely. Judging by the excellent first book, I believe this series is going to be a favorite of mine. It's almost like taking a trip to France without leaving your house. Almost.

When I first heard the title of Marisha Pessl's hefty book, Special Topics In Calamity Physics, I thought, no, not for me. What do I know about physics?? (Well, I did read Cryptonomicon and loved that.) But I think this book is much less about physics, per se, than it is about the life of a precocious sixteen year old girl, Blue van Meer. From the back cover:

Blue van Meer's world of intellect, murder and mystery is smart, edgy and irresisitable.

Sounds good to me. A confession: I do like books that are narrated in the first person by a precocious youngster. i.e. The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie by Alan Bradley or Cold Flat Junction by Martha Grimes. Of course it helps if the stories are very well written, too.

Note: the painting at the top of my post is by artist Deborah DeWit Marchant.