The embarrassingly low number of books I've read in the past year. I got nothing. No excuses.
1) Pat Conroy. The Death of Santini. 339 p.
2) Carol Conroy. The Beauty Wars 124 p.
3) Jay Stringer. Lost City. 301 p. ***
4) Emma Donoghue. Frog Music. 405 p. ***
5) Bill Campana. Said Beauty to the Blues. 137 p. ***
6) Scott Martelle. The Admiral and the Ambassador. 310 p. ****
7) Stephen King. Mr. Mercedes. 437 p.
8) Greg Baxter. The Apartment. 193 p. ***
9) Denise Mina - The Red Road. 297 p.
10) Amanda Petrusich - Do Not Sell at Any Price. 260 p. ****
11) Haruki Marakami - Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage. 386 P. ****
12) Peter Matthiessen - In Paradise. 256 p. ***
13) Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz - Dr. Mutter’s Marvels. 372 p. ***
14) Ken Sharp. Starting Over: the Making of John Lennon and Yoko Ono’s Double Fantasy. 262 p. ***
15) Randall Maggs. Night Work: the Sawchuk Poems. 189 p. ****
16) Michel Faber. The Book of Strange, New Things. 500 p. ****
17) Scott Saul. Becoming Richard Pryor. 586 p. ***
Showing posts with label books 2014. Show all posts
Showing posts with label books 2014. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 30, 2014
Monday, September 22, 2014
Rich history brought to life
Very little is known about the life of Thomas Dent Mutter, the founder of the famous Mutter Museum in Philadelphia. With this book, Dr. Mutter's Marvels: A True Tale of Intrigue and Innovation at the Dawn of Modern Medicine, Cristin O'Keefe Aptowicz brings Mutter to life in extraordinary context to his times.
Excellent research shows us the horrors of surgery in the world during the early 19th century and O'Keefe Aptowicz describes the procedures very graphically. We learn of Mutter's education and travels but sadly, very little about his wife, who only gets mentioned on six pages. It is difficult to research and find what has been lost though and O'Keefe Aptowicz fills in the gaps with fine historical details although she can get bogged down in occasional minutia and trivia. This is a wonderful book with an incredible conversational tone.
Excellent research shows us the horrors of surgery in the world during the early 19th century and O'Keefe Aptowicz describes the procedures very graphically. We learn of Mutter's education and travels but sadly, very little about his wife, who only gets mentioned on six pages. It is difficult to research and find what has been lost though and O'Keefe Aptowicz fills in the gaps with fine historical details although she can get bogged down in occasional minutia and trivia. This is a wonderful book with an incredible conversational tone.
Tuesday, August 26, 2014
A visit and a memory
Stopped by the library to pick up my reserve of the new Murakami book, one chapter in and all is well. While there, one of the clerks, who worked with my on Sundays at the Hilltop, asked my if I missed public service.
After I laughed for about five minutes I said no. I do miss seeing the new, more popular work instead of the more academic materials I do process these days but there is no way I would trade anything now. The last few years there were rough. I was profoundly unhappy and should not have been dealing with the public in any way. My leaving was good for everyone.
Ten years ago, this happened. Here's a Live Journal entry about a typical day in the life of the Hilltop. Yes, it's more than a bit cynical and a bit hateful. Such was my life in 2004.
"Had a train wreck of a customer. She had us print up a list of the books she had checked out. Then proceeded to say that she returned about half of them last night. I looked on the shelves for one of them, it wasn't there.
She then went out into her car, a few minutes later came back with a huge tub full of books - including the one she claimed to have returned in the book drop overnight.
I overheard her talking to my supervisor. She said she clearly remembered returning one book in particular. That the book was so big that she hurt her hand on the book drop door. My supervisor looked the book up and said, "This book is a small paperback that cost $2.99."
If there was any liquid in my mouth, there would have been a spit take.
God, that was funny.
After she did her business, she asked if she could leave the tub on the check-in counter. For some reason, we did. A few minutes later an elderly customer dropped her copy of the latest Evanovich right in the tub.
I've never seen my supervisor laugh so hard.
We moved the tub off the counter after that. About an hour later, the train wreck came back, and was looking for her tub. Luckily I told her we'd moved it before her panic would set in."
After I laughed for about five minutes I said no. I do miss seeing the new, more popular work instead of the more academic materials I do process these days but there is no way I would trade anything now. The last few years there were rough. I was profoundly unhappy and should not have been dealing with the public in any way. My leaving was good for everyone.
Ten years ago, this happened. Here's a Live Journal entry about a typical day in the life of the Hilltop. Yes, it's more than a bit cynical and a bit hateful. Such was my life in 2004.
"Had a train wreck of a customer. She had us print up a list of the books she had checked out. Then proceeded to say that she returned about half of them last night. I looked on the shelves for one of them, it wasn't there.
She then went out into her car, a few minutes later came back with a huge tub full of books - including the one she claimed to have returned in the book drop overnight.
I overheard her talking to my supervisor. She said she clearly remembered returning one book in particular. That the book was so big that she hurt her hand on the book drop door. My supervisor looked the book up and said, "This book is a small paperback that cost $2.99."
If there was any liquid in my mouth, there would have been a spit take.
God, that was funny.
After she did her business, she asked if she could leave the tub on the check-in counter. For some reason, we did. A few minutes later an elderly customer dropped her copy of the latest Evanovich right in the tub.
I've never seen my supervisor laugh so hard.
We moved the tub off the counter after that. About an hour later, the train wreck came back, and was looking for her tub. Luckily I told her we'd moved it before her panic would set in."
Sunday, June 22, 2014
A gripping history and a fine story told
Finding grave sites of American historical figures, prominent and obscure, are a part of what makes me tick. What happened to Admiral John Paul Jones after he died in Paris is a story that Scott Martelle reveals in his book, The Admiral and the Ambassador: One Man's Obsessive Search for the Body of John Paul Jones. The man who searched for the body is Horace Porter, an American businessman and confidant of many political figures of the day who eventually becomes the U.S Ambassador to France during the Mckinley administration.
Martelle weaves a fascinating mystery the involves the Revolutionary War, Paris during their revolution and advances to the Civil War, the Spanish-American War and the McKinley assassination. All of which had minor and major roles in the burial, disappearance and eventual recovery of the bones of John Paul Jones.
The research is top notch and the story breezes along, like a good mystery should. There's a lot of depth to the main characters involved. You get a real feel for the life Porter had as an Ambassador and the lives diplomats led during that era. The story does not bore, but pulls you in. You know the body is going to be found but how, and when?
Really enjoyed the Hell out of this book. A fine read for history buffs and lovers of a good political mystery.
Martelle weaves a fascinating mystery the involves the Revolutionary War, Paris during their revolution and advances to the Civil War, the Spanish-American War and the McKinley assassination. All of which had minor and major roles in the burial, disappearance and eventual recovery of the bones of John Paul Jones.
The research is top notch and the story breezes along, like a good mystery should. There's a lot of depth to the main characters involved. You get a real feel for the life Porter had as an Ambassador and the lives diplomats led during that era. The story does not bore, but pulls you in. You know the body is going to be found but how, and when?
Really enjoyed the Hell out of this book. A fine read for history buffs and lovers of a good political mystery.
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
An elusive life and words
In his books and essays, Pat Conroy often writes about his family. Of course, his father, The Great Santini, his tragic brother, and his sister Carol. Carol Conroy is a poet, she is very hard to find good information about that is not connected to her brother. She has published one hard to find book of poetry, and another very hard to find book of poems. If there is any of her poetry or stories in magazines and journals I've yet to find them.
The library I work at has a copy of her 1991 book, The Beauty Wars. As expected there are plenty of poems about her family. Plenty of poems about loss - "grief is a homesick ballad, and no place of clouds knowing what a cloud can see," is from The Craft of Dying, the first poem I saw when I cracked the book open.
There is a series or two of works about her father. Poems that have numbered stanzas that get in the way me finding something to feel.
Conroy is a skilled writer, but where is the rest of her work that her brother raves about while the two are estranged? I'd like to find more of that ground to try and connect with.
The library I work at has a copy of her 1991 book, The Beauty Wars. As expected there are plenty of poems about her family. Plenty of poems about loss - "grief is a homesick ballad, and no place of clouds knowing what a cloud can see," is from The Craft of Dying, the first poem I saw when I cracked the book open.
There is a series or two of works about her father. Poems that have numbered stanzas that get in the way me finding something to feel.
Conroy is a skilled writer, but where is the rest of her work that her brother raves about while the two are estranged? I'd like to find more of that ground to try and connect with.
Monday, January 6, 2014
Overwrought family drama
When a memoir is full of odd, factual errors outside of the author's life, I wonder how much real truth is being fed to me.
Such is the case with Pat Conroy's latest, The Death of Santini: The Story of a Father and His Son. Conroy reveals, to no real shock if you're familiar with his work, that a lot of his books, especially The Great Santini, are not really fiction.
We're told of the horrible childhoods Conroy and his six siblings had. They're so damaged that five of the seven attempted suicide and, tragically, one succeeded.
Conroy tells us of his eventual love and respect for this father, Don Conroy aka The Great Santini. He tells of the worship he had for his mother, and how the beauty of the Mother in The Prince of Tides was all her.
Meanwhile, his siblings do not quite remember things Pat does. I think we can infer that it was a very violent childhood, that Dad was a horror to be near. But his relationships with some of his siblings, like in many families, are often strained. His relationship with his sister Carol, a writer as well, is non-existent except at funerals, and the two funerals Conroy depicts here are doozies of family drama.
Conroy writes rich, with great Olympian detail to every paragraph. This is an asset as well as a massive, exhausting to read flaw. It's also something Conroy has made a career at.
I'm still trying to figure out how he created a member of the McCourt family named Patrick, who told Conroy that his brother was writing Angela's Ashes. There is no member of that family, and none that was a bartender in San Francisco either. Unless he meant Malachy, which means the editor failed.
It's small errors such as this that ruin the narrative for me and left me a bit disappointed when I finished.
Such is the case with Pat Conroy's latest, The Death of Santini: The Story of a Father and His Son. Conroy reveals, to no real shock if you're familiar with his work, that a lot of his books, especially The Great Santini, are not really fiction.
We're told of the horrible childhoods Conroy and his six siblings had. They're so damaged that five of the seven attempted suicide and, tragically, one succeeded.
Conroy tells us of his eventual love and respect for this father, Don Conroy aka The Great Santini. He tells of the worship he had for his mother, and how the beauty of the Mother in The Prince of Tides was all her.
Meanwhile, his siblings do not quite remember things Pat does. I think we can infer that it was a very violent childhood, that Dad was a horror to be near. But his relationships with some of his siblings, like in many families, are often strained. His relationship with his sister Carol, a writer as well, is non-existent except at funerals, and the two funerals Conroy depicts here are doozies of family drama.
Conroy writes rich, with great Olympian detail to every paragraph. This is an asset as well as a massive, exhausting to read flaw. It's also something Conroy has made a career at.
I'm still trying to figure out how he created a member of the McCourt family named Patrick, who told Conroy that his brother was writing Angela's Ashes. There is no member of that family, and none that was a bartender in San Francisco either. Unless he meant Malachy, which means the editor failed.
It's small errors such as this that ruin the narrative for me and left me a bit disappointed when I finished.
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