Lori’s Book Nook

I live in Penticton, British Columbia. It’s a lovely little city in the sunny Okanagan Valley, on a glacial morraine between 2 lakes — Okanagan and Skaha. We moved here two months ago, and we take possession of our new house in 7 days.

The best thing about this town must be The Book Shop;…an amazing secondhand bookstore that could possibly be the best one I’ve ever been in — and I’ve been in many. Knowledgeable staff, acres of space, active acquisition policy, huge poetry collection,…(you know what’s important). No real competition for an hour’s drive in any direction.

Anyway, I found the book I was planning on looking for yesterday: Slouching Towards Bethlehem, the collection of essays by Joan Didion. Her preface alone was worth the price of admission, the writing is so tight:

“….My only advantage as a reporter is that I am so physically small, so tempermentally unobtrusive, and so neurotically inarticulate that people tend to forget that my presence runs counter to their best interests. And it always does. That is one last thing to remember: writers are always selling somebody out.”

The title of the book comes from Yeats:

THE SECOND COMING

by: W. B. Yeats (1865-1939)

•  

  URNING and turning in the widening gyre

  The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

  Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

  Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

  The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

  The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

  The best lack all conviction, while the worst

  Are full of passionate intensity.

  Surely some revelation is at hand;

  Surely the Second Coming is at hand.

  The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out

  When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi

  Troubles my sight: somewhere in the sands of the desert

  A shape with lion body and the head of a man,

  A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,

  Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it

  Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.

  The darkness drops again; but now I know

  That twenty centuries of stony sleep

  Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,

  And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,

  Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

(Source: Poetry Archive)

Here is an excerpt from one of Joan Didion’s essays, from the book Slouching Towards Bethlehem.

There is some sinister hysteria in the air out here tonight, some hint of the monstrous perversion to which any human idea can come. “I followed my own conscience.” “I did what I thought was right.” How many madmen have said it and meant it? How many murderers?

Hmm.  

This post is more just a reminder to me to read this again…and to find some of her essays next time I’m browsing in a secondhand bookstore.

Or, one of my top 3 lists…

Are they still my favourite books, or have I not updated the list in awhile? Hmm…

Here goes:

LOTR
What can I say? Hold up your hand if you've read them more than once. More than twice? Keep your hand up. More than 10 times?
On the top 3 list because I've re-read these books every year since I was first introduced to them as a pre-teen. I don't remember reading them for the first time though…
For their re-readability, and film adaptability, they are true classics.

The Bone People by Keri Hulme

One of only a few books to move me to tears….complicated tears too, not just a sad 'boo-hoo'. How does one classify this book? I've seen it called a mystery — which is odd. It's a compelling story of 3 damaged, but likeable, people living in New Zealand. When I find this book in a secondhand store, I buy it, and give it away. I once gave it to a friend for Christmas, and she was totally pissed off at me the next day, since she stayed up all night reading it instead of sleeping.

Read it, don't read about it. Any description could not do justice to the story, the characters, or the lush writing.

The Power of One by Bryce Courtney

The movie captured the tone, but not the wonderful depth of the story. This is another book that moved me to tears — and again, far more complex tears than just 'oh poor kid'. A great story about a little boy growing up in South Africa as apartheid takes hold. A moving story about a boy who learns to box. A fascinating story about….

Ack. Again. Just read it. But once you are utterly enthralled with Peekay and his life, do not read the sequel, Tandia. It's good, but disappointing in many ways…but mostly because it does not have the wondrous hope of the first.

I've been spending too much time in front of the computer, mucking about with email, money, job hunting….

Time for a bit of pleasure…Arthur Rimbaud's poem "Au Cabaret Vert, cinq heures du soir" (from this wonderful tribute site):

Depuis huit jours, j'avais déchiré mes bottines
Aux cailloux des chemins. J'entrais à Charleroi.
- Au Cabaret-Vert : je demandai des tartines
Du beurre et du jambon qui fût à moitié froid.

Bienheureux, j'allongeai les jambes sous la table
Verte : je contemplai les sujets très naïfs
De la tapisserie. - Et ce fut adorable,
Quand la fille aux tétons énormes, aux yeux vifs,

- Celle-là, ce n'est pas un baiser qui l'épeure ! -
Rieuse, m'apporta des tartines de beurre,
Du jambon tiède, dans un plat colorié,

Du jambon rose et blanc parfumé d'une gousse
D'ail, - et m'emplit la chope immense, avec sa mousse
Que dorait un rayon de soleil arriéré.

Octobre 1870. 

 For those that want it in English, here is a translation.

It is more a question of which one will I find first….the participants at BookTalk.org have had a hard time choosing the next book to read and discuss — it was almost a tie for the two front runners.

A Peace to End all Peace: The Fall of the Ottoman Empire and the Creation of the Modern Middle East by David Fromkin

or

Breaking the Spell: Religion as a Natural Phenomenon by Daniel C. Dennett

Gads — neither is light reading, and now the group is going to decide attempt both of them!

I'll keep you posted!

…says the cover quote, attributed to Neal Stephenson, a great SF writer himself.

So, who is this about? Sean Stewart, author of my latest library book, Perfect Circle: A novel about Texas, ghosts, and perfect pop songs. Sean Stewart's books are thoughtful, odd, haunting, and addictive. This one is no exception. It is unexpected and ennerving, and worth picking up.

My favourites of his other books (that I've read…) are:

Nobody's Son is the other half of a fairy tale, after the words: And they lived happily ever after.

The Night Watch takes place in Vancouver, BC…it is a future where Magic has taken over, and humans in the downtown core hold the line against the encroaching Forest, which has reclaimed the rest of the city.

We’ve all had those memories — the really cool ones from your childhood that, when you stop to think about them, may have been merely figments of your imagination?

I could swear I remember a secret passageway in an old barn, or even one of the old farmhouses one of my friends lived in…I remember climbing in, and climbing down….or do I? I was young — I could be remembering a (probably terribly dangerous) hay chute, or an old dumbwaiter. Or, did my neighbour read me some really impressionable novels? (She was older, and did read Charlotte’s Web to me when I was maybe 7….Christina, thank you.)

Well, for awhile now, I’d wondered if I’d dreamed my childhood favourite. Okay, no, I didn’t actually look up the author’s full list of titles, but I’d never heard anyone but me mention this book — and Gerald Durrell’s books get mentioned a lot!

Have you ever heard of The Donkey Rustlers? One of Gerald’s books for kids. I distinctly remember taking it out of the library at least twice…but I don’t really remember the story. I am now on the hunt for my own copy. Powells.com doesn’t have it…Abebooks.com lists 30 copies around the world.

Will it stand the test of time? How many childhood favourites do?

…at Powells.com — a truly great on-line bookstore. "Great" probably because they seem to truly appreciate books, and the written word. Their newsletters are text-based, not overflowing with graphics, and they have a real life storefronts in Portland, Oregon.

"Honey? Do you want to go on a road trip?"

Or is it a pilgrimage?

Over a year ago, I was looking for the letters of Al Purdy, a wonderful Canadian poet. One compilation does exist Yours, Al: The Collected Letters of Al Purdy (not hard to find…hint, hint…). But then, I discovered on Powells.com that there is a book with the collected letters of Purdy and Charles Bukowski, called The Bukowski/Purdy Letters, 1964-1974: A Decade of Dialogue.

Now, I like Bukowski's writing. He was obnoxious, but in his poetry he observed the world around him with insight and feeling. And I like Al Purdy's writing. I knew they had respected each other, but didn't know a book of their letters were available. I put myself on Powells.com request list, for a copy of the book when one came in. And a year later, just in time for my birthday, they got one. So I bought it. And like I've said before, always buy yourself the birthday present you want, 'cause nobody else will.

So, here's some Al Purdy:

And here's some Charles Bukowski:

it was just a little while ago

almost dawn
blackbirds on the telephone wire
waiting
as I eat yesterday's
forgotten sandwich
at 6 a.m.
an a quiet Sunday morning.

one shoe in the corner
standing upright
the other laying on it's
side.

yes, some lives were made to be
wasted.

©2001 Linda Lee Bukowski
reprinted with permission of Black Sparrow Press

For someone who likes books as much as I do, I'm surprised I've never really been involved in a book club. Outside of reading the same book with classmates in high school, I've never gotten into sitting down with a group to talk about a particular author or novel.

I did search for online book clubs once, and was briefly involved with one group, BookTalk. Generally, a good group of people, writing intelligently about the books they read. I was in the midst of a couple of months of chat on Jared Diamond's book Collapse: How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed, and enjoying it, when bloody ezBoard took a dive to a hacker. So much was lost, and while most of it came back, I lost the momentum of the medium. Diamond is compelling, if depressing, reading, focusing on how some societies succumb to Guns, Germs and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies, or how societies collapse because of a variety of factors.

Anyway, I need to discuss books again. In three weeks, when we move into our new house, begin unpacking, and I have my own computer back, I'm going to get involved there again. And maybe I'll even commit to a live book club…as my husband commits to a once a week (penny-ante) poker game.

That and 100 Words…I'm going to try that, come July 1st. Anyone with me?

Some like their entertainment to stick to the tried and true, while others want something a little more unusual. I must admit, I like both, depending on my mood. I'm not always in the mood for a Charlie Kaufman film, or a Jasper Fforde book.

Today, I was. Got The Big Over Easy by Jasper Fforde out of the library yesterday, and finished it this morning. It has fewer off-the-wall silly moments than his Thursday Next series, but then Thursday Next was a relatively normal character functioning in a wacky world, while this book was a wacky mystery (Humpty Dumpty's murder) in a relatively normal world.

But his books aside, this wacky Welshman cannot seem to stop writing. Seriously. Take a good long browse through his website — this is a man who is completely off his rocker, OR, utterly marketing-savvy. His books have Special Features, for goodness sake! That you need a code for! Deleted scenes and a 'Making of' Wordamentry. Oh, and special upgrades for your copy of the book:

What fun. Why doesn't every author play around like this?