I just finished reading The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid by Bill Bryson. I love Bill Bryson’s writing. He has the amazing ability to think up just the right turn of phrase to perfectly convey his thought and make you laugh at the same time.
Normally, I avoid reading memoirs like the plague, but because this one was written by Bill Bryson, it earned a special dispensation and I dug right in. Bryson writes charmingly about the first ten or twelve years of his life growing up in Des Moines, Iowa during the golden age that was the 1950’s in America. He writes about the universe of childhood and the wonders of post-war life.
I’m too young to properly appreciate Bryson’s stories of the fifties. I actually learned a lot about the history and culture of that time from reading this book, and could appreciate the hilarious stories about young Billy, his parents, and his neighborhood buddies. But what I can’t fully participate in, unfortunately, is the nostalgic reminiscing—yearning, almost—for this changing time in our country’s history, when the simple life began to change into a TV-watching, car-buying, productivity-oriented society. Bryson makes me wish I had experienced that time, but I was born much too late to ever understand it fully.
Here’s a passage that made me laugh out loud. And it’s holiday-related, too. This takes place the year Disneyland opened in California, and the Bryson family took an unprecedented road trip from Iowa all the way to the Pacific Ocean:
We spent Christmas day walking on a beach in Santa Monica, and on the day after Christmas we got in the car and drove south on a snaking freeway through the hazy, warm, endless nowhereness of Los Angeles. At length we parked in an enormous parking lot that was almost comically empty—we were one of only half a dozen cars, all from out of state—and strode a few paces to a grand entrance, where we stood with hands in pockets looking up at a fabulous display of wrought iron.
“Well, Billy, do you know where this is?” my father asked, unnecessarily. There wasn’t a child in the world that didn’t know these fabled gates.
“It’s Disneyland,” I said.
“It certainly is,” he agreed and stared appreciatively at the gates as if they were something he had privately commissioned.
For a minute I wondered if this is all we had come for, and that in a moment we would get back in the car and drive on to somewhere else. But instead he told us to wait there, and strode purposefully to a ticket booth where he conducted a brief but remarkably cheerful transaction. It was the only time in my life that I saw two $20 bills leave my father’s wallet simultaneously. As he waited at the window, he gave us a smile and a little wave.
“Have I got leukemia or something?” I asked my mother.
“No, honey,” she replied.
“Has dad got leukemia?”
“No, honey, everybody’s fine. Your father’s just got the Christmas spririt."
Another Christmas present that E got, this one from his brother, was Computer Waiting Games by Hal Bowman. This is a hilarious, gifty little book from Quirk Books. The subtitle is: Activities for the Impatient: Things to Do While Downloading, Processing, or Crashing. When I saw it, I exclaimed, “Ooh! I need that!” It feels like I spend half my life waiting for the computer to do something… especially Blogger.
The book is more of a joke than any practical guide, with activities like “Make a CD-ROM Mobile” and “Bench Press Your Computer Monitor.” But some of the games are doable in the few seconds you have while waiting, like “Computer Keyboard Boggle” and “Write a Digital Haiku.”
My favorite game in the whole book is “Power Strip Russian Roulette.” The instructions are as follows:
1. Reach beneath your desk and find where the power strip is located. 2. Grasp any one of the power cords at random. 3. Pull hard. 4. If your CPU is still operating, reflect on how much time you’ve just saved by not unplugging your computer. Take deep breaths. Make tiny fists with your toes. Observe the harmony of the pixels on your screen, all working together to create words and icons. 5. If your CPU is not operating, reboot your system and take a walk.
It’s been a long weekend of family. That’s all I have to say.
As usual, I didn’t get any books for Christmas, so nothing to write about there. I did, however, get a few books for other people.
E had been wanting a book about Art Nouveau ever since we visited Vienna last fall. We were both taken with the amazing Art Nouveau architecture and décor everywhere we turned. Besides learning all about the Hapsburgs, we also learned about the turn of the century artistic movements, saw a lot of Gustav Klimt, and marveled in the gift shops over beautiful glass objects.
After some research, I came to the conclusion that Art Nouveau, 1890-1914 by Paul Greenhalgh was the definitive volume on the entire artistic movement. At $75, it may be the most expensive book I’ve ever purchased. It may also be the heaviest book I’ve ever purchased. It must be ten pounds, at least. Its 496 full color pages off the most exquisite photographs of paintings, furniture, and anything else that could have possibly been produced in the style. Surrounding the photographs is textual information detailing everything you could possibly need to know about them. This is no fluffy coffee-table book. This is academic.
I had E open this present last Friday, before we left for Los Angeles. Now that we’re home (ahh) he can really delve into it. Then he can design a new mantel for our fireplace in the Art Nouveau style. Another project to add to the list.
I can't believe it's almost Christmas. Are you done with your shopping? There's still a good long weekend if you're not, but this is it for me. Tomorrow morning, we are leaving for Los Angeles. And, for the first time, my parents are going to drive down with us. Then they will come to E's parents' house for Christmas dinner. That'll be interesting.
Because of Christmas away from home, present-opening will begin tonight and continue throughout the weekend. E and I don't need to bring all our gifts for each other all the way to L.A. and back, so we might open one or two tonight as our own private Christmas. Then, tomorrow, we will give my parents their gifts because we don't want E's family to feel awkward about not having gifts for them on Christmas day. And tomorrow, our first stop will be dropping my parents off at my grandfather's house, so there will be a dinner and more gift-giving.
I suppose it's nice to have an entire weekend devoted to a holiday, forcing you to finish preparations a little early so that you can spend a few days relaxing. And where we are now, right on the cusp, is also a good time to reflect on past gifts.
I don't get a lot of books as gifts because people know that I'm in the book business and I've got books coming out of my ears. It's sort of sad, but it's my lot in life-- a mixed blessing, I suppose. But last year, E got me a HUGE present: The Complete New Yorker. Technically, it's not a book but a set of eight DVDs with, well, every single New Yorker issue since the inception of the magazine. So it's all about reading, and it comes packaged like a book, and it's got an ISBN number, so I think it counts.
Naturally, there is no way I could find time to read much of it, but this is one of those things that makes me happy just knowing I own it. And a few times, it has come in quite handy, like when I found out that Annie Proulx's short story "Brokeback Mountain" was originally published in the New Yorker. I had a copy of it printed out before you could say Jake Gyllenhaal. It was great. (Not the short story so much, but The Complete New Yorker.)
Happy Holidays everyone! I hope you get lots of interesting books! I'll be back on Tuesday. Hopefully.
This essay was written for the assignment where the students wrote about how a book reminded them of something that happened in their own lives. Eunice is a 6th grader who moved to this country only three years ago. I can't imagine having to learn an entirely new language, and being able to write some well with it.
The book Can You Get an F In Lunch? By Nancy Krulik reminds me of the time I was lonely and I was in a whole new place that I had never been before. Have you ever been lonely and in a place that you had never been before? Well, I have and so has Jenny, the main character in the story. If you had experienced it before, then you might know how Jenny and I felt during that terrible time. It is hard for people to be at a new place without any friends nearby.
Jenny is in a whole new place, a place that she had never been before, but she wasn’t afraid nor worried because she knew that her best friend, Addie, would be right next to her. But who could have thought Addie would change so much after one summer? Jenny soon found that Addie was not the Addie she used to be anymore. She was now mean and popular in school. Now it was hard for Jenny to be in a place where she was new and had to get over the loss of her best friend. How would Jenny survive the rest of the days in middle school?
I had been through the same thing as Jenny had in third grade. In third grade, I was new to this country and the school; to make matter worse, there was no one there to help me. I had to follow my classmates around, but I could feel they didn’t welcome me. I usually hoped Wednesday could come sooner so that I could get home faster. The only friend I had at school was my teacher. Because I was new and foreign, students from other classes made fun of my brother and me.
Jenny had to sit in the phone booth during lunchtime since she did not have anywhere to sit. So when Chloe invited Jenny to sit with her and her other friends, Jenny was thrilled. Now Jenny had many friends that could be with her when she needed support. I didn’t have anywhere to sit at lunch when I was in third grade, but everything changed when I got into fourth grade. There I made lots of friends and lots of support. So both Jenny and I were popular after we had made lots of friends. But how long would it last? That problem did not occur to us yet. As long as we had friends, we were okay.
Both Jenny and I had a lot in common. We were both lonely once, but got popular soon after we made some friends. When we were lonely, the only thing we wanted was friends, not money or toys. Why were friends all we wanted? Friends support us when we have a problem and they make us feel better when we are angry or sad. Why not choose money and toys to be our company? Well, because money and toys don’t help us as much as friends do.
What happened to my energy? It wasn't that many Christmases ago that I put together homemade Christmas candy boxes for all my friends. Not only did I spend two days in the kitchen making chocolate clusters, nutty nougats, candied citrus, and several other goodies, but I also drove around town looking for small candy boxes, wired ribbon, and paper candy cups. It was that year that I discovered the most incredible store in Berkeley called Spun Sugar, selling all things dedicated to the art of making candy and edible decorations.
It was also a Christmas not long before that crazy December that I had spent two days baking several different kinds of cookies. I purchased snowflake dinner plates from Crate & Barrel and gave each friend a plate of cookies wrapped in cellophane (which, again, is not easy to find these days).
What happened to me? I can't even muster up the energy anymore to send Christmas cards, much less run all over town looking for ingredients for that special recipe or a particular type of box. Recently, the approach of Christmas makes me feel tired just thinking about it. I wish I still had the enthusiasm to make even a single one of the incredible-looking treats in my Christmas Candy Book.
Instead, I'll just browse through and look at the full color photographs and dream about someday tackling a recipe or two. Maybe when I have kids I'll make the Macadamia Chocolate Crunch, Maple Pecan Caramels, or Apricot-Almond Chocolate Clusters. Or maybe when I have kids I'll be even more tired. The Christmas Candy Book by Lou Seibert Pappas
I bought a little early Christmas present for myself. I've been vigilantly awaiting the Moleskine City Notebooks to hit our shores (they were released in London months ago), googling them every two or three days for the past two months. The only store in the US that has them right now, as far as I can tell, is Powell's. Yay Powell's! The Paris City Notebook, this little gem, arrived in the mail today.
The trip to Paris with our friends J&D never did happen this fall, but all is not lost. We shall make it someday, maybe even next year. J&D are doing a major remodeling on their Eichler house, and things have not gone as smoothly or as quickly as they had hoped. So when, in early December, they didn't yet have a roof, we figured it could wait.
But now I have this gorgeous Moleskine with maps, a street index, and tabbed sections for filling in with information. It also has a section of completely blank pages for anything (oh, how I wish I could draw), several sheets of post-it-like clear plastic for write-on-wipe-off map drawing, and extra tab stickers. First things first: will fill in the information for the chocolate walking tour with David Lebovitz. Then we'll figure out what else to add.
One of the books I bought before M and I took our first trip to Italy in 2002 was from an unusual series of travels books called The Collected Traveler. I bought the Central Italy: Tuscany and Umbria edition, since one of our stops was to be Florence. I liked the idea of this book because it was not a typical travel guide. Rather than listings of accommodations, sights, restaurants, etc. it is a collection of previously published articles and essays of all subjects related to the region. From personal reflections to advice on which sights to see, each piece offers a unique perspective on this popular destination that traditional guidebooks do not have. Also, because of its anthology format, the book is decidedly more literary, with much more intellectual (and physical) heft, than its conventional counterparts.
In fact, it offered so much intellectual edification that I didn’t get very far into it before it was time to get on the plane. But I did manage to learn a few very important things that were invaluable, the most important of which was the existence of Vin Santo, a sweet, viscous dessert wine produced only in Tuscany. Reason enough to visit Italy.
The only other particular from the book I remember distinctly is a particular museum in Florence that we did not have time to visit during our three days in the city (there being a general strike on our last day). This description is from the essay "The First Time I Saw Florence" by Sallie Tisdale.
The list of must-see sights in Florence is exclusively artistic and historical, with a single exception. A friend said I mustn’t miss a little-known museum called La Specola, which means “observatory.” No casual visitor would stumble upon the place, located on a side road south of the Piti Palace, through a dark, dirty courtyard, and up three flights of stairs. The museum is open mornings a few days a week, and, from day to day, certain floors and rooms are closed.
The surpassingly weird La Specola is the best antidote in town to an overdose of gorgeous Crucifixions. It is part of the University of Florence’s Natural History Museum and contains a tribute room to Galileo though its main attraction is zoology…
But those who go to La Specola do so for the human corpses most of all. Passing out of the animal rooms and into the waxwork section is a step through the looking glass, from natural history to nightmare. In perfect realism, chickens and turtles, human fetuses and pregnant women, spinal cords and skulls, genitalia and whole bodies, fill the rooms. Each is dissected in a different way—for these are teaching models…
…A walk through these strange rooms is a walk through a disturbingly violent fantasy world. The brilliant waxwork artists weren’t content to make body parts according to drawings. They created sculpture, and all the models look alive in the midst of the evisceration. A young woman, gazing serenely, reclines on a soft bed, holding her braid in her hand, her chest and abdomen exploded into Technicolor butchery. Half-dissected heads in cases have their eyes open and a bit of goatee showing. A large man made to demonstrate the lymph system seems to rise in agony off his pallet, eyes wide and hsocked by the brutality of his torture; he is called by local people lo scorticato, “the skinned.” One room contains the life-work of a modeler famous in his time, Gaetano Zumbo—four brilliant dioramas of macabre plague scenes, a series depicting the effects of syphilis, and a decomposing head.
I mentioned my visit to the desk clerk at my hotel. He looked wistful and smiled in memory. “Ah, La Specola,” he said. “I have not been to La Specola since I was a child.”
The Mysterious Benedict Society by Trenton Lee Stewart is a great, action-packed novel for middle school kids (it’s approximately the same reading level as Harry Potter). I was practically giddy with excitement over how much I loved the premise:
"ARE YOU A GIFTED CHILD LOOKING FOR SPECIAL OPPORTUNITIES? Dozens of children respond to this peculiar ad in the newspaper and are then put through a series of mind-bending tests, which readers take along with them. Only four children-Reynie, Kate, Sticky, and Constance-succeed. Their challenge: to go on a secret mission that only the most intelligent and inventive children could complete."
For the first hundred pages or so of this 486-page book, I didn’t want to put the book down. I loved the mysterious puzzles and test questions used to find the four special kids for the mission. It was the perfect setup for a feel-good mysterious adventure that would, in time, reveal the genius behind what special talents each child had.
After the initial thrill wore off, though, it seemed to take a very long time for things to really happen. There was so much exposition involved, and the details of the evil plot revealed in such small increments, that I felt like I had been reading the book forever. And in the end, the actual mission seemed just too convoluted; it had crossed my suspension of belief threshold. It made the climax of the book, where the children defeat the bad guy, less powerful than it should have been. It made the happy ending less believable—too pat—as well.
Despite this criticism, I did enjoy the book a lot and definitely believe that ten- or eleven- year olds would drink this book right up. It’s full of puzzles, intrigue, evil plots, bullies, sinister institutions, action, humor, and warmth. The characters are great fun, and so is the adventure. One of the wonderful things about the four kids is that they each have their strengths, but understand that they must work as a team in order to succeed. I like that each has a particular type of intelligence that is unique, and all have the moral and mental fortitude to be a contributing member to the team, even if they may not always be at their best. Each child has an opportunity to be the strong one, or the smart one, depending on the situation and task at hand. And there are many. The Mysterious Benedict Society should be in the stores in March of 2007. I’m a bit early with the review, but I just finished reading the ARC this afternoon and wanted to talk about it. Hopefully, this book will get the press it deserves when it is released and you’ll be reminded again of how fun it is, and that maybe you know just the right fifth grader who loves a good adventure.
Why should kids get all the fun? Some things are too cool for us adults to pass up. Take Klutz products for example. Have you ever passed up a Klutz display without desperately yearning for at least one of the books on the rack? Is it just me?
The best Klutz craft book by far is Window Art. The end product of the craft is a plastic window clingy outlined in black and filled in to imitate stained glass. The book comes with a big bottle of black goo and five smaller bottles of transparent colored goo. You squeeze out the black outlines of your picture onto a sheet of plastic. When it dries, you fill in the spaces with colored goo and wait for that to dry. Then the whole thing peels off the plastic and will stick to any smooth surface. And because it doesn’t have any adhesive, it is completely removable and repositionable.
The book is full of drawings for tracing. If you, like me, can’t draw a stick figure to save your life, you simply put your plastic sheet over the picture you like and trace it with goo. I’m good at tracing—and I’m good at coloring, so this is a perfect craft for me.
After I made some traced window art for our bathroom, I turned my attention to the appliances. A few years ago, when I bought my KitchenAid stand mixer (one of my prized possessions), I debated over which color to get. I finally decided on white because it matches everything, and you never know what color kitchen you might end up with someday. But something in me did yearn for a little something more exciting… and that’s when it hit me. Window Art!Window Art by Klutz
I love the idea of Bookmooch. For those not familiar with the concept, you list the books you would like to give away on the website. When people request your books, you mail them out and earn points to request books from others.
There has been some concern about the affect of these free book trading services on the book business. Some worry that the authors do not earn royalties on books acquired this way, or that publishers lose out, affecting their ability to produce more quality literature. Despite my position as a publisher and bookseller, I can’t help but feel that Bookmooch and sites like it are not only fun, but have very little impact on the industry.
For one thing, every book listed by members of Bookmooch was, at one point, purchased. Now these books aren’t wanted anymore. Normal courses of action include donating to libraries and selling to used bookstores. I hardly think that mailing them to an individual instead has any different financial consequences. They were going to be sold as used books anyway, which generate no royalties or revenue for publishers. One could argue that the used bookstores and donation recipients are affected, but this economic system is as complicated as any. When consumers save money, do they spend the savings somewhere else? Do they buy more books? There is, in the end, no way to tell what the true economic impact is. Rather, I like to think that recycling something with value is as good as any reason to bookmooch. I would much rather see many people enjoying the same book than have that copy thrown in the trash.
So here I am, giving away books. I keep sending them off without spending my points to get books. I’m trying very, very hard not to bring more books into the house before I have read more of my TBR ones. I also feel good about opening up space on the shelves, giving me a bit of breathing room.
I have about twenty books listed on the site, and surprisingly, I receive a request for one every few days. Today it was Chasing Vermeer by Blue Balliett. I think this is a wonderful book for middle grade kids who love mysteries and puzzles. Here’s the text on the book jacket:
When a book of unexplainable occurances brings Petra Andalee & Calder Pillay together, strange things start to happen: seemingly unrelated events connect, an eccentric old woman seeks their company, & an invaluable Vermeer painting disappears. Before they know it, the two find themselves at the center of an international art scandal. As Petra & Calder are drawn clue by clue into a mysterious labyrinth they must draw on their powers of intuition, their skills at problem solving, and their knowledge of Vermeer. Can they decipher a crime that has left even the FBI baffled?
Chasing Vermeer garnered rave reviews when it came out, and I can see why. Only…I didn’t love it. As I read, I kept thinking how much a fifth or sixth grader would enjoy the puzzles and the twists, but they didn’t do much for me as an adult. That’s a good thing. A ten-year-old shouldn’t be intrigued and drawn to the same things as a thirty (-something) year old. An author who knows this has a true gift.
The assignment was: Pretend you are the author of a book. Tell us why you wrote it and what you hope readers will get out of it. Write it from the first person point of view. I'm especially proud of this essay, which represents a substantial improvement and source of self-confidence for Michelle.
I think the book I wrote called Princess Academy was really good. The story is about mountain girls who learn to be princesses. The shock is that Miri, the main character, doesn’t get to marry the prince, but she becomes the academy princess though. I hope the children who read this book will treasure it like it was more precious than gold and learn about teamwork, listening, and helping.
I’m sure that the kids who read my book will learn about teamwork because Miri helped her friends get out of hard times. For example, Miri helped the other girls in the academy help girls from running away from the academy because the teacher was very mean. She tried to not escape herself, so that was a hard task.
The children who read this book might learn about listening because every girl had to listen or there would be a punishment. Some of the causes of the punishment are raising your hand, talking, and, of course, not listening. I hope that the kids don’t take this too seriously because you won’t get locked in a closet or a palm-lashing these days. Once one of Miri’s friends forgot about one rule and raised her hand for a question. She didn’t wait for the teacher to call on her and blurted it out so Miri’s friend got a palm-lashing.
After reading Princess Academy readers might learn to be more helpful. Everyone had to help in the quarry to help their families survive. They needed to help because their families were poor and they lived in small huts on a mountain.
I hope that children will learn teamwork, listening, and helping when they read this book. I’ve got to tell you writing this was like the game, “find the needle in the haystack” In other words, it was a pain in the bottom. Hey, it was worth it because I got lots of money from that book! Hope you like it.
Speaking of holiday books, I had had Christopher Moore’s The Stupidest Angel on my TBR shelf (shelves, actually) for two years before I read it a few weeks ago. It’s not something I could just pick up any time and read. It had to be timed just right for me to feel like reading Christopher Moore when it’s not too far away from Christmas, but not too close either. Don’t want to accidentally end up reading a Christmas story after the holiday has passed.
This year, the timing was perfect. I had just finished another book on Thanksgiving, and, as with putting up decorations and shopping, the season opens the day after Thanksgiving. In the end, it didn’t take me very long to read the book because it was so short and, well, meaningless.
I have read two Christopher Moore books in the past: Fluke and Lamb. I thought both those books were witty and engaging, especially Lamb. In fact, when I think about Lamb, it reminds me very much of Christmas even though it concerns more of Jesus’ life around Easter-time rather than Christmastime. The Stupidest Angel, however, didn’t have any depth at all. It was just a bland story about some strange but uninteresting neighbors and the zombies out to get them. The zombies weren’t even interesting.
Luckily, the book was short and quick. I have noticed that when I’m in the middle of a book I don’t enjoy that much, I’m irritable and cranky—even when I’m not actually reading. For the entire length of time it takes to finish the offending book, a week or two, I feel a little off. So it’s a good thing, for the sake of holiday cheer, this book came and went in a flash. I hardly even remember it anymore, and I only just read it two weeks ago. Today I mailed it off to a Bookmoocher. Glad to send this one on to someone who might appreciate it more.
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Episode information: It's holiday season, and the inaugural episode of BookTalk very appropriately features the theme of Holiday Books. Book lovers called our BookTalk voicemail line and recorded their thoughts about holiday books they remember, books they're reading, or book-related holiday gifts. The next episode will feature the theme of Winter Books. Call (415) 992-8622 before December 31 to record your thoughts about Winter-themed reading.
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When E and I visited Asia earlier this year, our main source of information about Beijing was the Insight CityGuide Beijing. One of the reasons I chose this guidebook was its removable restaurant map guide, which turned out to be of limited use. However, the book as a whole was a great help to learning more about the main sights in China’s capital. We walked around the Forbidden City with the book open to the explanations of what we were looking at, we followed its neighborhood maps to decide where to go next, and to find a few restaurants we had had already chosen, and we took its advice for touristy activities.
The Insight CityGuide Beijing is printed in full color with plenty of information about the history and culture of the city as well as entire chapters for each of the main sights. There is also a chapter for each sector of this huge, sprawling city (including restaurant suggestions), and separate sections for accommodations. This organization is a bit different from American city guides, but I found it intuitive from a foreigner’s perspective. It worked well for us.
The only complaint I have is that the book uses no Chinese characters, only the phonetic spellings. This is fine if one needs to pronounce the name of a street to a cab driver, but if we are walking around looking for a street, the characters on the street signs bear no resemblance to the phonetic spellings in the guidebook. This is my complaint of Asian guidebooks as a whole. I have not yet seen one that has both phonetic spellings and characters, so that illiterate tourists can both read the signs and pronounce them.
As for our stay in Beijing, we managed to see all the major sights in a few short days. Unfortunately, most of these same major sights were covered with scaffolding when we arrived. Apparently, the government is doing major reconstruction and renovation work on all places of historical significance in preparation for the 2008 Olympics. After paying for our entrance ticket to the Forbidden City, for example, the three main halls in the center of the compound were invisible behind the drop cloths. It did not stop us from enjoying the rest of the huge palace, however, and we managed to spend a good five hours there. We had the same problem at the Summer Palace, and also the Temple of Heaven. After buying our ticket and strolling through Temple of Heaven Park where the city’s most prominent temple is located, we came upon a huge pagoda covered in scaffolding, and a sign that informed us that the main temple was closed for renovation. While we could still look at the lesser temples and buildings, it was a bit of a disappointment to not go inside the main building, or even get very close.
For each place we could not see, we bought a set of postcards so that we could at least have some pictures of the real thing, not under construction.
And so it was that this afternoon, at our friends’ annual gingerbread house making party, we pulled out our postcard of the Temple of Heaven and started to build this landmark out of gingerbread. It took almost four hours and plenty of architectural and confectionary ingenuity, but I think we did a pretty good job. Thank God the hosts had included blue Twizzlers in the candy options. What would we have done without blue Twizzlers?
I have to say, I am quite proud of our edible Temple of Heaven. Not only is it a good representation of the original, it was also a lot easier to build than last year’s gingerbread project, Vienna’s St. Stephan’s Cathedral.
A man asked Mr. K. whether there is a God. Mr. K. said: "I advise you to consider whether, depending on the answer, your behavior would change. If it would not change, then we can drop the question. If it would change, then I can at least be of help to the extent that I can say, you have already decided: you need a God."
Hardships of the best
"What are you working on?" Mr. K. was asked. Mr. K. replied: "I'm having a hard time, I'm preparing my next mistake."
Serving a purpose
Mr. K. put the following questions:
"Every morning my neighbor plays music on a gramophone. Why does he play music? Because he's doing excercises, I've heard. Why is he doing excercises? Because he needs to be strong, I've heard. Why does he need to be strong? He says it's because he must defeat his enemies in the city. Why must he defeat enemies? Because he wants to eat, I've heard." After Mr. K. had heard that his neighbor played music in order to do excercises, did excercises in order to be strong, wanted to be strong in order to kill his enemies, killed his enemies in order to eat, he put his question: "Why does he eat?"
E and I watched "The World According to Sesame Street" on DVD the other night. It's a documentary about developing the TV production in different countries around the world, and how the producers attempt to incorporate as much of the native culture, art, and social issues into the programming as possible. If you're a Sesame Street fan, it's pretty fascinating.
Watching the movie reminded me of the book, Sesame Street Unpaved by David Borgenicht, which I bought when it was first published in 1998, for the 30th anniversary of Sesame Street. It covers the history of the television show, trivia about all the characters (both muppet and human), transcripts from memorable clips, and song lyrics. Of course, it is full of great pictures. I spent an hour flipping through it again, revisiting the great moments I remember from my childhood.
I can't decide now, which I love more: Sesame Street or The Muppet Show?
I did not write yesterday (bad, Renee!) because after work, E and I went into San Francisco to attend the Harvard Club of San Francisco’s holiday party. Apparently, over 300 people were registered to attend, so I figured, given the odds, I would probably see one person I knew. Sure enough, I did see a familiar face, though it did not belong someone I had ever spoken to before. I had definitely seen him around campus though, and he looked exactly the same. I’m fairly sure he would have had no idea who I was, but E likes to push me a little and said, “Come on, just say hi. It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t know you, you’re the same year.” And I really wasn’t going to, but as he walked across the room, we made eye contact about ten feet apart, and I knew it would be more awkward then to not say something.
“You look familiar,” I said to him. He said, “Yeah, so do you.”
And then he asked me what I did for a living.
I’m not going to get into how much I hate that being the first thing a person asks when they meet you. As if it were the most important thing about a new acquaintance, that it could tell you anything at all about the person you have just met. (This results, for me, in the shy-person problem of not asking anything at all, which in the end is worse. People must think I’m unfriendly and snobbish. If I were not shy, I would come right out and ask them what their favorite book was.)
We spoke only briefly (he was not as interesting as he had seemed all those years ago), but he did ask me the quintessential Harvard question, “What house were you in?”
I lived in Adams House, and am quite proud of it. Especially around the holidays, when Adams House was, hands down, the best place to be. Only Adams House had a holiday party at the Master’s house with spiked eggnog and mulled cider. Only Adams House had an annual black-tie Winnie-the-Pooh reading at our holiday show, complete with Master Kiely as narrator and a classmate assigned to each role.
My love of Adams House prompted me to buy a copy of Adams Fall by Sean Desmond the minute it was published. Though Desmond was an Adams House resident only one year apart from me, I never knew him. However, when I found out the book was set entirely in Adams House’s B-Entry (where I lived for one year), I had to read it.
The book is not particularly great. It is a murder-mystery-suspense-psychothriller that doesn’t quite live up to all of its billing. But I didn’t care. Desmond capitalized on Adams House’s own ghost-and-myth-filled history to create a creepy backdrop for his story of a student’s descent into madness. Here's Amazon's review:
Harvard's Adams House has a checkered past--ghosts in the attic, shadowy tunnels under the basement, and a history of student suicides and murders. The present isn't much sunnier, especially for the nameless protagonist, a senior plagued by memories of his freshman roommate's death and haunted by a specter who's got a few scores to settle before he quits this earthly realm for good. Author Sean Desmond, a Harvard graduate, takes us deep inside the drug and spirit-ridden head of his main character, who's got girlfriend troubles as well as a thesis to finish, a guilty secret to hide, and a problem or two with reality. It doesn't endear us to this overprivileged twit, but it adds to the Gothic atmosphere, which is laid on with a heavy hand. The ghost from the past is a much more interesting figure. He's a vindictive playboy with charm that doesn't quite equal his prescience in choosing a target whose descent into madness--and maybe murder--is horrifyingly depicted.
Don’t you love it when books take place on familiar ground? We are so ready to enjoy the book and forgive the author’s foibles when we can move around in the book’s space as if we were there, as if we are walking with the characters, following their lives in our own house. I don’t care if the book was mediocre-- I was in it.
Adams Fall by Sean Desmond (The paperback edition is titled Abandon, as is the movie that was based on this book.)
[I'm working on putting the Holiday Book podcast together. In the meantime, why not call in about the next BookTalk topic: Books for Winter. Look to the right for details.]
I’ve really been just as bad this week as if I’ve gotten engaged myself. But bear with me for one more wedding and M-related book: The Bridesmaid Guide by Kate Chynoweth.
When M was my maid of honor, she mentioned in passing buying a book about being a bridesmaid. This was early on in the planning stages, and I didn’t think much of it when she told me. As with any of these sorts of girly guides, I always feel like they should be read more for fun than anything else, because aren’t we mature and intelligent enough to figure out being a bridesmaid? Common sense, right?
Sometime after the amazing bridal shower M threw me, right around the week prior to the wedding, when M mentioned the wedding-day emergency kit she was going to carry with her, I realized I had totally underestimated the job. Sure, anyone can be the maid of honor, but M quietly and subtly commanded everything within her control to be as classy and level-headed as she herself was. She had everything so under control that I did not once worry about anything on the day of the wedding or otherwise. She was the SMH—Super-Maid-of-Honor. All the other bridesmaids were in awe. I was in awe. My friend L said she was never so glad to not have been chosen as the maid of honor, because she would never have been able to pull it off like M did.
So when M asked me to be her matron of honor, the first thing I did after accepting was say, “You’ll have to send me that book you have.” And two days later, she put The Bridesmaid Guide in the mail. I received it today. The Bridesmaid Guide isn’t exactly heavy reading. I’ve looked through most of it, and did notice that the word “fabulous” is thrown around like it’s the holy grail of womanhood. I’m going to ignore that. Otherwise, it is mostly composed of tongue-in-cheek tips that, while true and useful, are, in the end, mostly common sense. For instance, Chynoweth writes at one point, “Not every bridal shower needs a menu of finger sandwiches and tea, nor should every bachelorette party include lewd drinking games or male strippers.” Sure, that’s obvious. But then I remembered that not everyone may find this as obvious as I do. One friend of mine broke into tears when the friends who planned her bachelorette party made her wear a T-shirt adorned with Life Savers candies that invited men to suck the candies off. Didn’t they know that she was the quiet, conservative type?
I find that the tone of the book doesn’t really match my style. While it is trying to be witty and “fabulous” by including jokey charts and quizzes, there is something not quite jokey enough, and everything is a bit too earnest. Chynoweth doesn’t quite succeed at striking the balance between offering practical information and maintaining a sassy, fabulous tone.
That said, I found the ideas in the chapters on party theme ideas and gift and favor ideas creative and fun. But as I read, I realized that I could not use any of the ideas for M. She had already read this book! I will simply have to use the suggestions as inspiration or starting points. The lists of things to do and to prepare on the big day will definitely come in handy, as will the section on making toasts and speeches. Soon it will be my turn to do for M what she so fabulously did for me.
I just finished reading The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid by Bill Bryson. I love Bill Bryson’s writing. He has the amazing ability to think up just the right turn of phrase to perfectly convey his thought and make you laugh at the same time.
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