More Book-ity-Books:

I was trying to remember what all I’ve read in January and February,
and I know I’m coming up short by two or five books.

But here’s what I’ve got so far,
with blurbs on the books that needed blurbing:

 

January:

Faithful Place, Tana French
A continuation of her Irish detective series (In the Woods, The Likeness),
French delves into the history of a secondary character–Frank Mackey–
from those novels.
Her prose is, per usual, well-crafted, but I found myself wishing for the authenticity of the female narrator in The Likeness instead.

We’ll Always Have Paris, Ray Bradbury

The Count of Monte Cristo, Alexander Dumas

Best American Short Stories, 2007, ed. Stephen King
A fantastic collection. King knows how to pick compelling stories.
His introduction, which is actually a defense of the short story
as a lasting literary form, is pure genius.

Savvy, Ingrid Law
YA fiction, and quite enjoyable. The characters are true and sympathetic,
and the small romances that blossom in the narrative completely avoid schlock,
which is refreshing from a YA author.

Dust of 100 Dogs, A.S. King
Meh. A great initial idea–a young female pirate is cursed to live the life of
100 dogs before returning to her human form–
but the idea gets lost in repetition and tired, quasi-feminist rants.

The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake, Aimee Bender
So very lovely. And so very sad. The essential concept is that a young girl can detect emotions through food–
whatever the cook was feeling, she can sense it.
Which makes for awkward high-school lunches.

The Writing on my Forehead, Nafisa Haji

Unexpected Magic, Diana Wynne Jones
Her short stories were a bit of a letdown
after the magnificence that is Howl’s Moving Castle.

Best American Short Stories, 2002, ed. Sue Miller

Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close, Safran Foer
Man, I dislike this genre.
It’s this dreadful combination of confessional, solipsistic over-sharing that sometimes feels like the author just slapped his LiveJournal into a bound book.

That said, there are moments of greatness. Foer has two parallel narratives running in this novel, and all the best bits are from the story of the protagonist’s grandparents. Through their marriage, they begin dividing up their home into sections of existence and nothing–their unwillingness to be open with each other is what leads eventually to their grandson wandering off on a ridiculous quest throughout New York, looking for an answer to why his father died in the WTC towers on 9/11.

The protagonist himself, a nine-year-old flea named Oskar, is a pompous twit,
and frankly, everything he does is boring.

That’s really all I can say about him.

Foer also thinks it’s clever to have pages and pages of numbers instead of text, as seen when the grandfather loses his ability to speak.
(that may have been interesting when Coupland did it in 1995′s Microserfs.
It’s just laziness now. )

Foer is liberal, elitist, Jewish-when-it’s-convenient, and boy, does it show;
the story is not about poor Oskar Schell and poor ignorant Americans
and how innocence is lost and we are all insignificant, alas!
It’s about Foer and his desire to be an Important Writer of Important Writings.

Raised by Manhattan Progressives, indeed.

(My opinion may be a bit controversial, but I promise, it ain’t just me:
Extremely Cloying , Terror Comes to Tiny Town )

February:

The Mermaid Chair, Sue Monk Kidd
Disappointing.

Magic for Marigold, LM Montgomery
Montgomery is my go-to for days when everything is bleak.

Boy, Roald Dahl
Remind me to never send my children to a British boarding school.

Horns, Joe Hill
Man, he has style.
Hill is always a compelling read, and like his dad, Stephen King, he manages to touch on philosophical/theological debates without preaching.
I don’t agree with the particular philosophy he presents (that good and evil are the two halves of a coin, or in this case, a person),
but that doesn’t change the fact that this is a good novel.

Currently Reading:

Julian, Gore Vidal
Interesting history. Floppy prose.
Seriously, if it takes me more than a month to read your 400 page novel,
you are doing something wrong.

Atonement, Ian McEwan
So far, not terribly impressed.

Master & Commander, Patrick O’Brian
I need a naval dictionary.
No, really.

Well. This Could Work, Too:

Or help me fill them. Which the Boyo does.

I’m Going to Kick Ass at the Nursing Home:

Social Dance Study
______________________________
‘The 21-year study of senior citizens, 75 and older, was led by the Albert Einstein College of Medicine in New York City, funded by the National Institute on Aging, and published in the New England Journal of Medicine. Their method for objectively measuring mental acuity in aging was to monitor rates of dementia, including Alzheimer’s disease.

The study wanted to see if any physical or cognitive recreational activities influenced mental acuity. They discovered that some activities had a significant beneficial effect. Other activities had none.

They studied cognitive activities such as reading books, writing for pleasure, doing crossword puzzles, playing cards and playing musical instruments. And they studied physical activities like playing tennis or golf, swimming, bicycling, dancing, walking for exercise and doing housework.

One of the surprises of the study was that almost none of the physical activities appeared to offer any protection against dementia. There can be cardiovascular benefits of course, but the focus of this study was the mind. There was one important exception: the only physical activity to offer protection against dementia was frequent dancing.

Reading – 35% reduced risk of dementia

Bicycling and swimming – 0%

People who played the hardest gained the most: For example, seniors who did crossword puzzles four days a week had a 47% lower risk of dementia than those who did the puzzles once a week.

Playing golf – 0%

Dancing frequently – 76%.

That was the greatest risk reduction of any activity studied, cognitive or physical.

Quoting Dr. Joseph Coyle, a Harvard Medical School psychiatrist who wrote an accompanying commentary:
“The cerebral cortex and hippocampus, which are critical to these activities, are remarkably plastic, and they rewire themselves based upon their use.” ‘

_____________________________________

Essentially,
as long as I keep reading like I do,
and dancing like I do?

This bitch is going to go to her GRAVE with all mental faculties intact.

Um…Yes:

Professional Weaker Brethren

I don’t even think you have to be a Christian to appreciate this article–
forcing others to walk on proverbial eggshells is a character trait found in humanity at large.

I know I do this.

And, ohhhh, I need to knock it off.

As a Christian,
adhering to the faith I believe in is one thing;
getting my panties in a knot about issues or behaviors
that are not declared a sin according to the Bible is entirely another.

If I’m made uncomfortable by someone’s behavior,
is it because it is offensive to God?

Or,
more likely,
is it just offensive to *me*?

(and even when it comes to sin, I have to be gracious in my response. ‘Coz guess who else is a sinner? Yep. This girl. Right here.)

Books! *glomp*

Walked to the library today
(first, feast on that: I walked to my library.)
(that’s so COOL!),
picked up a few things to make my still unpacked bookshelves feel less lonely:

Villete, Charlotte Bronte
The Handmaid’s Tale, Margret Atwood
Mere Anarchy, Woody Allen
Wifey, Judy Blume
Dream When You’re Feeling Blue, Elizabeth Berg
The Aleph & Other Stories, Jorge Luis Borges
Puro Cuento, Sandra Cisneros
Durable Goods, Elizabeth Berg
Summerland, Michael Chabon
Wonder Boys, ” “
Gentlemen of the Road, ” “

I’m most ‘specially excited for the Chabon novels–
I keep starting them in bookstores,
inevitably, fifteen minutes before closing.

*pssht*

As if your need to go home is greater than my need to finish a book,
Barnes & Noble employees.

I anticipate several afternoons at Beantown and Jameson Brown,
or even a wander down to the Sierra Madre cemetery,
to sit under an enormous cedar and read stories to ghosts.

They’ll appreciate the company, I’m sure.