For a rollicking good time roll in the blood of the flower of French chivalry, there's nothing quite like Bernard Cornwell's . I found the "grail quest" story line here a little silly, entirely unnecessary, since there is only one reason to read this book and that is to place yourself in the front lines at Crecy, circa 1346. Read more about The Glory of Old Timey War
The truth about Anthony Trollope, 1815 to 1882, is that he is so remarkably current.
I just finished reading . Here is an excerpt from a discussion of some radical legislation dealing with Irish tenant right: Read more about The Truth About Trollope
Somewhere in the beginning of this marvelous book, Scott Weidensaul tells us the story of the black-polled warbler, ("you could mail two of them for a single first-class stamp") and its migration across Canada and out over the Atlantic to its wintering grounds in Brazil. Ever see a kettle of hawks? A fall-out on the Texas coast? Neither have I, except here. Read more about Living on the Wind
by Alaa Al Aswany is a peek at the lives of one building's inhabitants in modern Cairo, Egyptian politics, and a bit of insight into the making of one jihadist.
In the light of Sunday's 9/11 remembrances, I remember the question some of us felt impelled to ask. "Why do they hate us?" Alaa Al Aswany tells us that it's not always about us. At the level of a young man from a Cairo rooftop, we don't even come into the picture. Read more about Sometimes It's Not About Us
This novel (John Cowper Powys' [amazon 1585673668 inline]) is, page by page, a veritable feast of words and images. Nevermind that sometimes I wanted to throw it against the wall. When I finished it I felt as if I had wandered long in a magical wood on acid, in which the play of light on lichen held as much meaning as any pesky action or dialog. It's a Stockholm Syndrome of a book. If you let it, it kidnaps you and even when someone offers to pay the ransom for your escape, you tell them "No, no. It's okay. I don't want to come home." Read more about Stockholm Syndrome
Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea culpa!
[amazon 0375504338 inline] , Salman Rushdie.
My first venture into Rushdie, but it won't be my last. Marvelous writing evoking one of my favorite periods of European history and one of my least-studied but quite intriguing periods of Indian history, weaving a magical tale with familiar figures at an intersection of east and west. Read more about Salman Chanted Evening
[amazon 0140045295 inline] , Ken Kesey
The first pages of this book made me want to put it down and flee. POV changes in the middle of paragraphs - I swear one was in the middle of a sentence, but I could exaggerate. I was thinking Ken, Ken, what are you doing? I don't know who's talking and I don't like anybody and nobody's having a good time. At All. Read more about Sometimes A Great Notion
Well, here's a place to go: Frank Delaney
And here's a thing to do: Read Ulysses
And if you do them both at the same time, starting of course with Delaney's first and following it in the text and through the archive, you will, a little at a time, finally read and maybe even understand - at least you might really, really enjoy, Ulysses.
Frank estimates it will take him about 22 years to complete the project. I will be 90. It's worth a shot. Read more about Places to go, Things to do
For the better part of the past year, I lived a few hours at a time with Virginia in [amazon 0156619121 inline]. I laughed a lot. I quarreled with her sometimes. I thought, oh! You think that too! when she was uncertain of her writing. The last few pages I lived through the Battle of Britain with her, and up until the last couple of months I could not imagine her killing herself. She talks often of wanting ten more years. But then, her homes in London bombed, her favorite walks, her country refuge more a prison than anything else, with her old London life gone. Read more about Woolf