“The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid” by Bill Bryson. He’s an author I love; I’m especially fond of his travelogues. “Thunderbolt Kid” is the story of his growing up in the 50s & 60s in Iowa, & it is laugh-aloud funny. I think that anyone growing up in that era will appreciate the story, even if they didn’t grow up in the Midwest. “The Clumsiest People in Europe” by Todd Pruzan. The author found a travel book written in the first half of the 19th century by a popular writer & was so fascinated by her accounts that he tracked down her other travelogues & researched her life. Like Prozan, I was both fascinated, amused, & appalled by the Victorian Protestant views of Mrs. Mortimer, who makes sweeping denouncements against adherents of any beliefs & lifestyles that don’t echo hers. Especially fascinating is this woman left her native England only twice to visit Paris & Edinburgh, & based the bulk of her prejudices about Persia, Hindostan, etc. on travelogues written by others. I’m re-reading “Work” by Louisa May Alcott. It’s one of her adult novels. The main character is an orphan who decides not to mooch off relatives any more & sets out to make her own way in the world. IMO, it’s far ahead of it’s time in that the story starts about two decades before the Civil War, when few women went out in the world. It’s been criticized for not depicting really horrible circumstances such as the sweatshops of the times, but it provides a look into Victorian attitudes on women working away from home, insanity, etc. I’m also re-reading my omnibus edition of Austen for the umpteenth time. I looked at the Kindle, but have decided against it (so far). I find something immensely comforting about holding a book & turning the pages. My favorite thing to do is book shopping; the smell of new books, the feeling of untouched pages……. even used book stores are exciting; there’s always the thrill of discovering a previously unknown author or story, or the rediscovery of a childhood favorite. Something like Kindle just can’t compete.

As we speak, comin’ off Canada’s CBC TV NEWS: the detectives that shot 50 bullets into 23 year old Shawn Bell comin’ out of his stag party in NYC 3 years ago, hours before his wedding, unarmed and mindin’ his own business —were found innocent of murder. None of us are safe. $%#@&*%$# !!!

Living to Tell the Tale - by Gabriel Garcia Marquez Pillars of the Earth -Follett Mirror Mirror- Maguire Farenheit 451 - Bradbury (for the 100th time) Ines of My Soul - Allende A Letter to America - Boren

Last year, I lost the sight in my right eye due to botched detached retina surgery and now have to listen to books and save my sight for the computer and (with a magnifying glass), newspapers and some mags. Books on CD are a different art form. The story and reader must mesh—styles are so different. Very interesting! Anyhow, Debbi Mack has started a book site and I reviewed one of my CD books on it. Check out: http://bookspublishing.blogspot.com/

I travel constantly for work. After reading newspapers and magazines (I LOVE magazines…any and all except the really incipid ones like People and Us), I tend to read in “batches”. Light reading, always paperback because I take them on planes with me. Right now I’m reading a lot of things set in France. So all the Stephen Clarke books (A Year in the Merde, In the Merde for Love…) He has a read eye and ear for the French. Almost French, From Here You Can’t See Paris, Toujours Provence, etc. Then I read a whole batch of things set in Italy. I moved on to a lot of Chinese settings. Peony In Love, Becoming Madame Mao, etc. You can tell where I’m travelling in the world by the settings of the books I choose. I read lots of them (I’m a fast reader) and then leave them in hotel rooms, in airplanes, etc. Paper is heavy to lug around. I haven’t gotten the feel for reading electronically. When I read for enjoyment, diversion, relaxation there is really nothing like holding the book in my hand so I can easily turn back, mark a page, and then pass things along to friends.

Holding a book—yes! The heft of it—it’s as though are hands and arms were made for exactly that purpose. What a wonderful creation a book is. I love the smell of an old well-loved book. I have a copy of Edna St. Vincent Millay’s Renascence, a first edition, her first volume of poetry. On the first page are these words in fading ink: Happy Birthday to the Sweetest Girl. I read that and my heart gave me a nudge and I’ve wondered to this day who the Sweetest Girl was in 1917 on her birthday. It’s a book I’ll never give up. I have many books and I treasure them all but this one is so very special as are Vincent’s poems. Here’s a sonnet of hers: Thou art not lovelier than lilacs,—no, Nor honeysuckle; thou art not more fair Than small white single poppies,—I can bear Thy beauty; though I bend before thee, though From left to right, not knowing where to go, I turn my troubled eyes, nor here nor there Find any refuge from thee, yet I swear So has it been with mist,—with moonlight so. Like him who day by day unto his draught Of delicate poison adds him one drop more Till he may drink unharmed the death of ten, Even so, inured to beauty, who have quaffed Each hour more deeply than the hour before, I drink—and live—what has destroyed some men.