It's Dog Blog Time!

Boy oh boy.  That Barney Saltzberg.  Finally, a guy who knows that us furry people need and deserve glasses as much as the not so furry types.  But, why he looked past the wonderulness of me for his main dog, I'll never know. 

Arlo is a nice name, though, and the name of my friend Terri's mom.  Arlo is probably an OK dog and this is a very good book.  I first started it on Saturday and am already on page 5. Zippin' right through this one.    Arlo likes to play but he just can't seem to find the ball once it is in play.  I always find it.  When You-Know-Who throws it, I go and stand by it so she knows where it is and will come and pick it up to throw it again.  Then I run and stand by it and she comes and picks it up and throws it again.  Then I go and stand by it and she comes and picks it up and throws it again.  Then I am tired and walk away.  YKW throws it anyway.  I do not budge.

I cheated a little and nosed my way through all the pages.  There are things to pull to make the ball fly.  My dog pals can even take a doggie eye test and try on glasses to find a pair that will make them look almost as cool as I look in mine.  Of course, they will have to make their own eyebrows and mustaches.

If you need glasses, it would be a good idea to take your dog friends  with you for a check up.  If she gets to see better, then she can read books like me.  Since I got my specs, I feel like a super hero movie star.  I also have these books ready to read after I finish the one about Arlo:

Can I Have Another Treat?

Virginia Woof

Dog Tired

How Long do I Have to Sit and Stay?

Dog Gone with the Wind

The Old Dog and the Bone

To Chase a Mockingbird

Fifty Shades of Milkbones

Winnie the Pooh in the Yard

Nice chatting with you.  Gotta go.  Really, I gotta go.

GB (AKA Mrs. George Burns)

The Flanders Panel

Beating up on Dan Brown two weeks in a row seems especially unfair, but I sure didn't plan it that way.  After years of moving The Flanders Panel to the bottom of my read-one-of-these-days pile, it was time.   I read The Club Dumas by the same author years ago, and although it challenged me,  I won the battle. 

This book is shaping up to be a mystery with all the trappings of The DaVinci Code, only better.  Don't get me wrong, I liked The Da Vinci Code, but was mostly facinated by the masonic history, and the explosion of information on Opus Dei and other organizations I never knew existed.  For me, the  mystery at the center of the story was secondary to all that. 

Flanders focuses on the efforts a fine art historian/restorer, to solve a 500 year old murder.  Julia uncovers a cryptic message reading "Who killed the knight?"  buried in a Flemish painting depicting a chess game between the Duke of Ostenburg and his knight.   Her curiosity moves her to do some amature sleuthing, leading to a series of murders committed in quick succession. 

Of course, I'm not done, so I can't tell you if the resolution is satisfying, but so far, so good.  Oh, at times the characters seem flimsy, that coming through mainly in the dialogue, but I credit that to the translation.  If you liked The DaVinci Code, I am quite sure this book will work for you.  The cover tells me it was made into a movie called "Uncovered" starring Kate Beckensale. 

****I have tons of Heart-A-Rama news to share on the HAR blog as soon as I find some time to catch up.  We have a theme, and plans are moving forward for the show we're doing with UW-Manitowoc.

*****Yes, I still have fun store news to share, but am waiting for the go-ahead from someone else.  By the time I write about it, I think many of you might already know...since not everyone is as good at keeping mum when told to do so as I am!

*****My dog GB (Mrs. George Burns) turns 12 this month.  She apparantly partied long into the night last night.  When I got up this morning, she had toys all over the living room and hall.  Generally, she ignores most of her toys, sticking to an overstuffed., pink jalapeno pepper with an obnoxious squeeker.  Last night the yellow sheep, a giraffe, a Lambchop puppet, and a long, hairy green critter joined the festivities.  Over the years, she has managed to comandeer two fleece throws as her own, and they were all cattywompus also.  Glad she had a good time.  Spring rejuevenates us all.

Thanks for stopping by.



Forgive Me for Ranting!

This much anticipated offering - certain to be a blockbuster - turned out to be nearly as exhausting and disappointing as Barbara Walter's Audition.  The success of both of these is clearly built on reputation and not substance.

The premise is worth consideration.  I don't want to give too much away for those of you die-hard Brown fans, but the plot  involves a plan to inusre the longevity of mankind.  The anagonist, who commits suicide on page seven, worked for an organization dedicated to eliminating segments of the population to ensure there would be enough natural resources to sustain coming generations.  That's scary - especially since Brown's disccliamer on the opening page asserts that such an organization exists, but he has changed the name.  Scary also is the truth that we are consuming far too much, far too fast and are not looking at the big picture when it comes to preservation and replenishment.

For me, the book's weaknesses begin with  assumptions  Brown makes about his readers.   He assumes we need to be schooled in the whereabouts of Venice, for example, and the fact that the city is floating amid a series of interconnected canals.  He assumes we need to be remined time and time again who carved The David, that Dante's The Divine Comedy is composed of three parts, along with teaching us the purpose of a baptisimal font.  Thanks Dan. 

Granted, the guy did a tremendous amount of reserach , but he sure doesn't weave it smoothly into his plot.  Instead., the story often comes to a sudden halt while he shifts gears.  At the lowest points, the book reads like the trascript of a Humanities class lecture.  Yet other sections seem  like a guide commissioned by some Italian tourist organization.

Then there is the product placement.  It appears that Dan Brown sold out.  I stopped counting how many times he mentioned Armani suits, along with an exclusive Italain shoe designer, and a fancy French eyewear company.  It has to be product placement because there are far too many instances where he could have, but did not name a specifice brand.  With all the drinking some characters did, he problably could have negotialted a geat deal with some high end liquor companies. 

Should I even mention the blatant plug for Ereaders?  Yes, he did plug them, and for emphasis, he put that sentence in Italics.  Cheesy, transparant and insulting.  Now, I know this is not the way for me to sell  books, right?  But when a writer thinks he can command a whopping $29.95 for a work of fiction, it better be built on something more solid than reputation.  I have ahe same gripe with JK Rawling, whose final Harry Potter boook retailed for $34.99.  In her case, the greed was even more egregious because it invoved kids.  Those books were like crack.  Kids were hooked on the first one in the series, and anguished of cries of children in withdrawal waiting for the next fix  could be heard throughout the land.  Yup, she gave some money to charity, but was it really charity when she went an made a big production out of it?  And in reality, who was actually making those contributions?

Oh, it appears that this has been an installment of  Big Rants Monday.  I will end now but not before telling you I still have some fun news to let you all in on real soon.  Stay tuned.

Thanks for stopping by.

One more thing...here's a great quote, and an even greater decision, by the CEO of Barefoot Books

Quotation of the Day

'Life's Too Short'

"At a certain point, you realize life's too short for this. We couldn't even talk to a human being. It's not a very satisfying way of doing business."

--Nancy Traversy, co-founder and CEO of Barefoot Books, speaking with IBTimes about why the publisher decided to stop selling to Amazon, a decision that came after years of "lowball price-fixing, delayed payments and frustrating interactions with Amazon's automated publisher services



 

Blogger is at it again - terrorizing me with little surprises.  Today, the spellcheck icon has disappeared.  Prepare yourselves; I am a lousy proffreader.

I became interested in the genre called "Magical realism" after reading Like Water for Chocolate by Laura Esquivel.  The novel puzzled me a lot, and it wasn't until several years later when the book came up in conversation with a co-worker, a Spanish teacher.  Kay told me about the characerteristics of South American fiction, and schooled me on magical realism.  Reading the book the second time with that info in hand made all the difference. For months, I suffereded from MR OCD, reading everyhthing I could find, yet Isabel Allende's The House of the Spirits always landed on the bottom of the pile, problably because of the political plot element.  Politics always complicats things for me.  For some reason, I grabbed it last weekend and was hooked in the first few pages.

In MR novels, the plot moves along normally and naturally, characters evolve believably, and conflicts ebb and flow as they do in our own lives.  But, tucked in the midst of all that normalcy, will be a character with an unnatural attribute - like outrageously long life, or the ability to see people and hear things that aren't there, or a knack for smelling the future.  Funny thing is, these odd traits are not treated oddly, they simply blen into to story line, and we, the readers are asked to accept them with the same ease as those interacting with the story character.  MR gets a  lot more complicated, but that is enough to jump start anyone's appreciation of the style.

 Kay also said there is a lot of over the top, drama queen-ish behavior but I guess I didn't notice that.  With so much time spent working on small thetre projexts, I guess I have trained myself to overlook the drama queens in my world.

Allende's book covers four generation.  A daughter in generation one has green hair. If there is an explanation, I missed it.    Genration one also has a child with a narrow ability to see the future.  At a young age, she knows that her green haired sister will die and she will marry the sister's betrothed years later.  Two of the women in separate generations become selectivly mute and manuever through years in a sort of Marcel Marceau fog.  Earlier, both had threatened to never speak again if certain actions were taken, and they stay true to their words.   

This all sounds a bit silly, but somehow, the magical elements intensfy the threads of pain running through this story.  It's as if those special gifts some how protect certain characters from the totality of the grief they would otherwise have felt.  In the final analysis, it's just magic, I guess.

*****My friend Lucy sent me this fun photo of 21- year old Kenneth Brannagh with Brian Blessed.  They were performing  Henry V at Stratford-Upon-Avon in 1984 and stopped to sign autographs.

Thanks Lucy!

*****I have never been too much of a Stephen King fan.  Nothing against him personally, I just don't like being frightened.   However, after his latest move, I have joined Team Stephen.  Becasue he loves traditional books, bookstores, and especially indie bookstores, his new novel, Joyland, will be published only in paper. 

 Thanks Stephen!

And thank you for stopping by.  I will have some exciting new to share in the coming weeks.

My Lucky Day?

Between Algoma and Kewaunee, on the lake side, I spotted two semi trailers parked perpendicular to each other.   The hand painted sign leaning against a weathered mailbox, matching the weathered farmhouse, says "Book Sale".  How could I resist?  After all, Saturday was my lucky day.   Earlier  I had stumbled across a vintage Underwood typewriter at an estate sale - the perfect Hemingway prop.  I can just picture him standing at my counter, click clacking away at a new, moody adventure of some sort.  You know he wrote standing up for many years, right?  

The first semi had shipping pallets and a series of wooden crates as stairs.  The bottom step was precarious enough, but the top one looked even  less  stable.  I knew that if I stepped on the already cracked crate and it broke, I'd fall into a maze of boards and muck beneath the makeshift stairs and never emerge due to embarrassment.  But there were used books inside, so I had to chance it.  The door was open just a crack, and pushing it further, I pinned the old guy running the place between the door and a massive stereo system.  He was OK with that.

Once he freed himself, the owner explained that he was just getting started, and then he gave me the grand tour of the semi.  The first eight feet or so are devoted to his office, filled with computer equipment, reference books, Chiquita Banana boxes and that six foot tall stereo system I mentioned earlier.  From there, you step down into the "showroom."  About half the space is  lined with brick and board bookshelves filled end to end with titles mostly recovered from Friends of the Library books sales.  All with Dewy Decimal numbers and protective,cellophane covers.   Running down the center of the semi are tables with boxes overflowing with books in no particular arrangement.  Beyond that point?  More Chiquita Banana boxes - hundreds in fact.  They appeared to be filled with mass market paperbacks. 

The owner, a spry 80-ish fellow, told me he has 70,000 titles, all catalogued.  The second semi is filled with more paperbacks, and children's books.  You have to climb a step ladder to get into that one.  At first, I thought I had made a wonderful discovery and planned to return when I had more time.  However, the situation kept getting creepier and creepier.  Each time I made a move to leave, he would come up with a new topic to discuss.  When I finally moved back toward the front door, he rushed to get there first, and closed it tightly.  He started telling me about his great stereo system and taking vinyl albums off a shelf one by one and talking me through the finer points of each artist and recording.  All with his back blocking to closed door. 

Then...he put on an Irish album and danced a jig.  A long jig.  And for some reason, I thought I was a goner.   What better place to off someone than in a semi, parked innocently next to a farmhouse?  Few people would miss me, and the  likelihood of being  found - close to zero.  The dancing man would get away with it.  Just imagine,  had my baseless fear been realized, my last stop would have been among books (and a few chickens).  I don't want to think about that now.  I heard there are books housed in several barns somewhere in central Wisconsin.  Gotta find that place and check it out.

What am I reading?  The Burgess Boys by Elizabeth Strout,  author of the Pulitzer Prize winning Olive Kitteridge.  My book group read "Olive" a few years back.  Steph and I enjoyed the book, and found Olive's honesty and unpredictabilty enganing, realistic and entertaining.  We were in the minority.  In fact, Olive was nearly as despised by our group as The Shipping News. 

Thanks for stopping by.

The Patron Saint of Dogs

How can you not love this cover, right?  No one could hurt a determined little  face like that, so I knew I would be safe straying once again from my "Dog-On-Cover-No-Read" rule.  However, the opening pages were frightening -with a needle poised and ready to send Freida, the golden retriever on her way.  Luckily, the unlicensed vet caring for the dog was too nervous to do the assigned job, and Frieda was spared the trip. 

This is my book discussion group's read for Friday, and I'm only on page 50.  I sure hope Frieda makes it through the next couple chapters.  This gentle book is a lighter selection for us, but  most of us own dogs, or somehow have a dog in our lives so I'm sure there will be a lot of pet related story telling when we get together.   People who don't own pets just don't get it.  When you have a pet, you are guaranteed at least one good laugh a day; most days there will be many laughs.   Nick Trout has filled his book with stories proving that point many times over.   (Disclaimer:  I understand that snakes, rats, spiders and others of similar ilk are not a laugh a minute.  We're talkin' cats and dogs here, folks.)

In addition, I am loving the picture Trost paints of small town life and the characters who come into his vet office.   In fact, I think some of those same pet owners are my customers as well.  That's about all I can say from the first 50 pages, except that I am looking forward to Wednesday off to commit to finishing.

*********

Last week I had an experience to add to my "That's So Odd" file.'  For some reason, the name of a customer I hadn't seen in years popped into my head, well, a partial name, really.  I dug around in my data base to see if I could come up with his full name, hoping then to see if he still lived in the area.  Mark had been a regular for years, buying books, for himself and his wife, chattering over coffee, sharing his frustrations with his job and his thoughts of returning to school at his advanced age of 41.  Then he disappeared.  When that happens, I usually figure that the person has moved, or gotten a Kindle (GRRR!).  Then there is the possibility that we have disappointed the person in some way which I dwell on beyond belief. 

Seldom do I get an answer, but two days after my wondering about Mark he walked in the door.  After doing my usual invitation to holler if help is needed, I went back to work.  It wasn't until he come to the counter to order a book and told me his name that I understood why he looked vaguely familiar.  From there it was like old times.   We had a great talk.  He mentioned that he went to nursing school and eventually worked at a Green Bay hospital with a former employee of mine, another person I hadn't hear from in over 10 years.  Then, out of the blue, on Thursday, I was invited to friend that very person  on LinkedIn. 

Why those two things happened,  I'll never know.  I do know that it sure would be  great if we only had to think about people we miss to  have them reappear in our lives even if its only  for a few moments.

Thanks for stopping by.

Too Tired...Good Tired...GaGa and Sedaris

Heart-A-Rama week.  Do I have to say much more?  I am tired, exhausted, actually.  But, tired doesn't get much better than being surrounding by goofballs doing good.  Each year, at about this time, I beg forgiveness in advance, for any extraordinarily foolish, inappropriate, convoluted and just plain stupid remarks that may be forthcoming.  Like Lady Macbeth, I was my hands of the guilt, and cannot be held responsible.

Reading?   Well, Heart-A-Rama week and David Sedaris week usually coincide.   He is one of the few authors I re-read - to the point of being able to quote.  Some people quote Lincoln, or MLK, or Shakespeare,  or the Buddha (sure I can quote him a little)...but me, I can quote Sedaris  Because I have read and reread and re re re...I don't have to think about it too much, and still get the benefit of a strong, dark, stout belly laugh on each page.  Next week will be David Sedaris week 2.

Off to a new topic.  Lady GaGa.  Love that woman!  Love how she pushes the envelope making people roll eyes, gasp in horror and question her sanity.   She  has taken a strong, public stand against bullying, and we all need to perk up and listen to her anti-bullying messages.

My neighbor's son lives on Michigan Avenue in Chicago.  Lady GaGa, -Stephanie - as I like to call her - lives in one of four penthouses in the same building.  These are a couple photos from her apartment.  Enjoy looking at them and then get to the Pig and buy your Heart-A-Rama ticket.

Thanks for stopping by.

Happy Happy Saturday

What a great day!  Nice weather.  Spring smells in the air.  A visit with Terri and her handsome grandson, Wyatt.   And...my friends Olivia, Thomas and Max dropped by.  Really, these three could be a comedy team.  The first time they stopped in together, the guys told me they found Olivia, friendless, sitting on a curb.  They pitied her and allowed Olivia to be their friend.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  These three have been besties for a long. long time.  In fact, Olivia and Thomas claim they have been friends since the day they were born.  They found Max way back when they were "kids" in kindergarten.

Shh!  I'm not telling you this but...right now they are trying to put together an optical illusion puzzle.  They have been tackling this on and off for months and today, they brought along reinforcements to aid in the challenge.  Someday they will turn the puzzle pieces over and see that the placement order is written on the back.

Each day, I am lucky to come to work in place filled with books, good music, interesting people and  - best of all - friends like Olivia, Thomas and Max.

What am I reading?  A tween hybrid called Timmy Failure: Mistakes were Made.  Timmy Failure is the founder, president and CEO of the best detective agency in town...according to his resume.  The book is a record of his life as a detective.  Timmy had to do the illustrations himself since his business partner, and and not so faithful canine companion, refused to help.

Rainy Days and Mondays

A rainy Monday!  It appears I have two options:  get really grumpy because I want spring weather and I want it now, or get Zen-ish - become one with the weather by reading a book set in the dampness of the British Isles.  Since my 8 AM dental appointment resulted in no needed work, I'll pass on the grumpfest and move right on to the British portion of my day.

Last week I started The Bookman's Tale and am finding it hard to put down.  It's a light literary piece  set in three time frames, the present, the near past, and the Elizabethan period.  The antiquarian book seeker and seller theme reminds me of Arturo Perez-Reverte's Club Dumas, except that Bookman is much simpler and my pea brain can easily keep track of all the characters and parallels.  But, that little reminder coaxed me to dig out my unread copy of another book by Perez-Reverta, The Flanders Panel.  I bought this book (for the first time) way back when LaDeDa first opened.  Tried reading it.  Failed.  Sold it.  Bought it again - several times- failing each time.  This time, I am determined to conquer the darn thing.  The back of the book says it's a "stunning debut that mixes history, mystery, deceit, and death -"  who can resist?

My favorite line from The Bookman's Tale will make my theatre friends laugh.    Describing Shakespeare, Mr. Cotton says "He was a quiet man - not taken to drunken carousing and immoral behavior like so many theatre folk."

Before I face the Flanders challenge for the final time, I am going to read  The Mystery of Mercy Close because I like the cover and I love the opening paragraphs.

" I wouldn't mind - I mean this is the sheer irony of the thing - but I'm the only person I know who doesn't think it would be delicious to check in to 'someplace' for a 'rest'.  You'd want to hear my sister Claire going on about it, as if waking up one morning and finding herself in a mental hospital would be the most delightful experience imaginable.

     'I've got a great idea' she declared to her friend Judy.  'Let;s have our nervous breakdowns at the same time....we;ll get a double room...kind people...soft welcoming hands...whispering voices...white bed linen, white sofa, white orchids...Just like Heaven... the sound of tinkling water...the smell of jasmine...

Come on, admit it, you're smiling just a little, and wondering what Claire and Judy are up to.

Gotta go.  Rain, coffee and books are just too much to resist today.

Thanks for stopping by.

                                                                               

Enjoy this sneak preview

 of what you'll see at

 Heart-A-Rama 2013.

Get your tickets now...

Manitowoc Pig

Inman's in Two Rivers

                      

 Only $15 for tons of fund-raising fun.

We'll be watching for you.

Roses are Red, Violets are Blue. If I Can Write Poetry and Buy a Degree, Hey, Why Not?

My blog was open. My mind began spinning. What to write! Nothing to say! Busy week! No time to read! OK...begin....my fingers hovered above they keys, ready to type NO BLOG THIS WEEK. Wait! It's the door. Someone approaches...the mail carrier. And with him came what I needed to jump start today's post.

What he brought me upped the level of responsibility I feel to this little weekly communication. How often have I apologized to you for sloppy syntax, hastily formulated thoughts, non-sequiters...not to mention the weakness in the spellcheck of this Blogger program? (...and the rambling groups of words that, on a good day, may be grammatically correct, but more often than not contain one or more significant errors defined by an inability to separate, coordinate and/or subordinate thoughts with the use of conjunctions or whatever?)

So, the mail carrier delivered three pieces of valuable inspiration. First, I was invited to apply to work on my MFA in poetry at Drew University, a division of The Caspersen School of Graduate Studies in Madison, New Jersey. A nice, handwritten note at the bottom of the form letter informed me that Carla the Recruiter discovered my blog, and knew I would be the perfect candidate for their program.

Dear Carla,
     You haven't read too much of this blog have you? Have you ever seen evidence of me writing poetry, or showing the slightest interest in or knowledge of that very sophisticated genre? Not so much, huh?

I will admit that the program has some inviting features. I can write poetry from the comfort of my own home for three years. Then, for ten days in January, I get to go to the campus, just 25 miles from NYC, and engage in "critical conversations, lectures, and workshops as a member of a community of poets." What that really means is I sit around and have people laugh at all the garbage I have written in the comfort of my own home with no one to guide or critique my work except me. OR, maybe everyone will tell me what great, insightful, and life-changing stuff I have written - worthy of publication. Then, for my thesis, I will prepare those poems for publication. Because poetry is a hard sell, no one will pick it up, and out of frustration, I will search out a vanity press, and pay thousands of dollars to see my book rot on store shelves. How much you want to bet that Drew University operates a vanity press and would be more than happy to help me out with that process? Then they will give me the pretty letters to go behind my name.

I have a friend with questionable dedication to studying, and yet he earned a PhD. I have always wondered how that happened. HMMMMMMM...

My second excitement from the mailbag was a letter from an artist named Sarah Angst. Come on...is that her real last name? Can you imagine her work? Dark. Brooding. Anger dripping from the souls of scantily clad Amazonian women, posed in a threatening stances seen only on comic book covers. In reality, Ms. Angst creates Tiffany-like prints which she incorporates into jewelry, cards, and wall art...yet another example to support Shakespeare's "What's in a name?" discussion.

The invitation to buy my MFA was quite a gift, but the free book from St. Martin's Press trumped it. Augusten Burrough's You Better Not Cry spilled out of the manila envelope on the very day I was questioning my decision to re-read Pride and Prejudice. Looks like Austen will have to wait...again. How sad. Burrough's dysfunctional family provides plenty of material for his edgy essays. They aren't for everyone, but Sedaris fans are sure to appreciate them.

What am I really reading? I just cracked The Bookman's Tale - A Novel of Obsession by Charlie Lovett. This modern Gothic opens when an antiquarian bookseller leafs though an 18th century study of Shakespearearn forgieries, and what appears to be a portrait of his late wife flutters to the floor. Of course it really isn't her. It's a Victorian watercolor but the resemblance is uncanny. Thus begins Peter Byerly's journey.

Oh, here's a cheery little note from the brain trust at a big box retialer.  They announced today that Ereaders have not killed the traditional book industry as they once had predicted.  Ya well, the American Booksellers Association has been providing us indies with the stats supporting that for years.  But, I suppose that this news comes on the heels of the turmoil caused by dramatically dropping Kindle sales.  ABA tells us that 80% of books sold in the US still have pages, covers, and no batteries.  Sure, that's not as grand as when 100% of books fit that description.  I try to keep this all in perspective.  Cavemen were probably upset when someone discovered alternatives wall writing, and that turned out OK.

Thanks for stopping by