A Work in Progress

The Curious Gardener: June

I know this is a common refrain you've heard from me this year--I have felt rushed and overwhelmed by life.  Work has been hectic and just the general craziness of life has made me feel as though I have little control over things.  It leaves me drained and unsatisfied and on rocky terrain.  In Anna Pavord's The Curious Gardener, one of the topics she takes up in her June chapter is "Slow Gardening".  It resonated with me as I think what she says has a lot of validity. 

"We live in an impatient age, used to quick results.  Because people move around more than they used to, they don't plant things that won't immediately benefit them.  This is a danger in gardens.  It leads to layouts that, like instant takeaway food, are ultimately satisfying.  The ingredients are limited and, after the initial gratification, there is no lingering sense of longer pleasures.  But a holly tree, though slow, can give you that in spades."

She's writing, of course, about something specific, but it is something that can easily be broadened out to apply more generally to other aspects in life--even reading.  The art of slowness?  Slowing down?  Yes!  The 'slow' movement seems to have become popular when it comes to eating, so why not gardening, too?  (Why not, for that matter for reading or other things that are rushed through in order to 'finish'). 

Pavord begins by telling the reader about how she flies down the A303 and so disrespectfully sees Stonehenge rise in the distance and then fades away in her rear-view mirror in just a matter of minutes.  Somehow that seems entirely wrong.  From there she segues into a description of Joseph Hooker's travels to the Antarctic and India and how he sent seeds back home, which of course took ages, and then compared how easily we buy our seeds these days from a garden center, rushed--in order to plant then--just one more thing to tick off a list of things to do.  So it's only a hop skip and jump to slow food and then the idea of slow gardening.

"If the mood now is instant, disposable, then our gardens can become places where the opposite things are going on.  We should be planting slow, steady, sustaining things.  In the garden at least, if in no other part of our lives, we can dream a future."

Like the holly tree she mentioned, it is like a thread to connect the before with the after.  While it's taking its time there is nothing to stop planting your garden around it.  This is entirely peripheral thinking, but she puts me in mind of Roger Deakin who was such a careful observer.  I can see him taking life slowl and really Looking.  While I am not more than an armchair gardener (and I have failed on my own planned planting--maybe I should think fall plants?  Maybe there is some way to salvage my plans?), the idea of taking things slow, enjoying whatever I am doing, not rushing tasks--the pleasurable ones anyway, is something that I am taking away from this month's reading.  If only I could be a less impatient person in general, though (especially with books and reading).

As usual Pavord moves from subject to subject--mooching about in her garden, a mini travel narrative about the Courson Fall Plant fair, dilemmas of clematis (which I have always thought was cool and would love to grow), roof gardens, etc.--in an always delightful manner.  If you are going to armchair garden, Pavord certainly takes you on the rounds.  I did pull one bit of useful trivia (maybe more than trivia, actual helpful advice), and you likely already know this but the longer the grass the faster it grows so her advice is to mow as regularly as you can. 

I'm in the mood for a little hands on nature experience so if the weather cooperates (meaning no rain and not the excessive humidity that we have been having here of late) I plan on spending some time at my local botanical garden on the Fourth of July.  I'm not a fan of picnics and barbecues or parties in general, but I'd like to see their birdhouse exhibit and spend some time relaxing in the marsh habitat, where it was so peaceful and quiet last time I visited.

Although I am trying to keep my reading under control and focus on my summer reading project and maybe finish a few languishing books, I'm keen to read more nature books.  I am thoroughly enjoying Founding Gardeners (am past the halfway mark now--I had no idea that they bickered so much once the business of the Revolution passed and the forming of the American government was taking place--but then this is politics, so should I be surprised?) and have a few books in mind to queue up next.  I'd like to read Roger Deakin's Wildwood: A Journey Through Trees and as a companion book, (thanks to Ms. Buried in Print for this reading suggestion) I've just added Theresa Kishkan's Mnemonic: A Book of Trees to my reading pile. 

But I am going to work on being patient, and taking my time.   

Short Story Sunday: Outcasts of Poker Flat

Perhaps (Francis) Bret Harte (1836-1902) is my way back into my 'Western Lit' reading that I set out to do so enthusiastically earlier this year.  Bret Harte this weekend and Laura Ingalls Wilder next weekend and maybe a little Larry McMurtry along the way, too.  I thought I had read "The Outcasts of Poker Flat" before, but if I did it has faded so far from memory that on reading the story I had no recollection of it.  Harte is apparently best known for his accounts of pioneering life in California.  Gaging by the number of schools named after him he certainly made an impression in American cultural life.  The story has been filmed a number of times--in the 1930s and early 1950s, though neither adaptation seems currently available.  I read a little about Harte and whatever his literary legacy, it sounds as though he is known for creating a certain "type" when it comes to stock Western characters.

I don't think I feel the draw of reading more of Harte's work, but "The Outcasts of Poker Flat" was an interesting read--a study in irony perhaps, a morality tale of sorts with the twist being that it's the characters of questionable or low morals who end up the heroes and those who are the town's upstanding citizens revealed to be the hypocrites. 

Maybe it's thanks to Mr. John Oakhurst's success at cards and the fact that he lightened the wallets of several prominent citizens by a hefty amount of coin that he was shown the way out of town (never to be allowed to return and lucky he didn't end up at the end of a noose hanging from one of the town's taller trees). 

"A secret committee had determined to rid the town of all improper persons.  This was done permanently in regard of two men who were then hanging from the boughs of a sycamore in the gulch, and temporarily in the banishment of certain other objectionable characters.  I regret to say that some of these were ladies.  It is but due to the sex, however, to state that their impropriety was professional, and it was only in such easily established standards of evil that Poker Flat ventured to sit in judgment."

Whatever their own sins, these prominent men have no qualms about throwing stones, or in this case throwing people out of town.  Along with the gambler Oakhurst the expatriated party consists of a young woman familiarly known as "The Duchess", another with the infelicitous title of "Mother Shipton" (infelicitous since she is the mother of a band of prostitutes) and a drunkard and general ne'er do well called "Uncle Billy".  The group is escorted out of town and told never to return. 

Maybe had they continued directly to their destination (only a day or so's journey away) and not taken a break on the road, only to get caught in a snowstorm, their ending might have not been so tragic.  Do you want to know what happens?  Read on (and if not, skip the next two paragraphs please).

The group is joined by a young man named Tom Simson but known as "the Innocent" and his even younger fiancé, Piney.  Oakhurst and Simson had a run in before.  The boy lost all his money in a card game, but being the man Oakhurst is, he took the boy aside, told him never to gamble again and gave his losses back.  And forever after Tom looks on Oakhurst as the most admirable man he's ever met.  The group finds temporary shelter in a small cabin with enough provisions to last a little over a week.  But luck is not on their side, as Uncle Billy absconds in the night with their horses and mules.  Limited supplies, a ferocious snowstorm and no animals to help them to their destination.  You can probably imagine what is going to happen.

The group spends days in the cabin before Tom decides he will set out for help and fashions a set of snow shoes to wade through the snow.  Oakhurst decides to accompany him part of the way.  Mother Shipton, after hiding away her portion of the food to give to young Piney has slipped away peacefully in the night having starved herself.  As the days merge together and no one comes for them The Duchess and Piney know they are all alone and have only each other to pass away their final hours.  When finally a party of townspeople finds the outcasts, The Duchess and Piney are in a final embrace--impossible to tell which is the virgin and which the fallen woman.  And Oakhurst?  I had imagined a better end for him.  He has left the two of clubs (not being a card player . . . significance of this one, anyone?) tacked to a tree noting the streak of bad luck that has struck the gambler.  Has his luck truly run out or as another reader has interpreted his action--decided that he can no longer live by Fate?

I wonder what the movie version of the story is like.  And I wonder what the Law of Poker Flat made of all this?   All rather sparingly and quickly described, but I never quite felt as though I connected with anyone in the story.  I can certainly see, however, how nicely this would start a discussion in a classroom setting.

Next week a story by Ambrose Bierce.

* * * * *

Didn't I just read a 'dog story' in the New Yorker?  It says something about the author and the story that the Q&A about Maile Meloy's "Madame Lazarus" garnered not just one but (at the moment I am reading it) six comments.  Most often there is not a single comment or maybe just one.  If the dogs in the last story I read were threatening, Cordelia is something else entirely.  It is probably because so many people can sympathize with the owners of Cordelia that the story seemed to resonate so.  This is an intriguing story for a number of reasons, not least as it is an interesting way into a character's personality by how they act and react to a pet that comes into their life unplanned and unasked for.

While (and I hate to admit this) I felt sort of 'meh' about the Harte story, I have to say I loved Maile Meloy's "Madame Lazarus".  I loved how she used the gift of a small dog by an Englishman to his older French lover as an "in" to the Frenchman's life--his past and his present, his emotions--all without sentimentality, so matter-of-factly presented yet offering the reader a chance to empathize.  It's a beautifully told story (one of my favorites of the New Yorker this year, I think) and she does it in so few pages.  With short stories every word, every paragraph must count and they do in Meloy's story.  

Meloy is not only a short story writer but she has also written novels, her first was shortlisted for the Orange Prize in 2005.  Yet another, 'how did I miss this author' find for me.  Yes, I'm going to look for more of her work. 

June 26: 'Dutch Lit' Reading Notes

Just a mishmash of reading today--destination The Netherlands, of course.  I've already mentioned Geert Mak's Amsterdam: A Brief Life of the City, which will likely take a little time to work my way through, but I'll continue to chip away at it.  I think Mak writes quite a lot about the older history of the city, though it seems as if (flipping ahead a bit) he takes the reader up through the 1960s or so.  A reader here suggested Russell Shorto's Amsterdam: A History of the World's Most Liberal City for the reading list.  It is due out in paper in August so I have added it to my wishlist.  It will make an excellent companion book to the Mak. 

I keep adding titles to my list (and pile of books), don't I?  Two 'finds' on my own bookshelves, a recommendation and a few more library books, one of which I brought home yesterday.  It might be a little bit of a stretch but Blue Balliett's juvvie novel Chasing Vermeer might be fun  since it is peripherally related to my reading and concerns a missing Vermeer painting.  It's a puzzle of a book, literally, with codes and illustrations and all sorts of clues peppered throughout the text.  Michael Pye's The Drowning Room from 1995 was a New York Times Notable Book.  They called it "an imaginative fictional re-creation of life in early-seventeenth-century Amsterdam and New York."  I had thought of reading something that touched on the NYC angle (first known as New Amsterdam!), so this will be a great addition to the list, or in any case a couple more reading possibilities.  And the latter two have long sat on my own bookshelves.

Cath suggested The Tea Lords: A Novel of Java by Hella S. Haasse, which I know a number of bloggers read and wrote about last year (or was it the year before?).  I seem to recall hearing good things about it so was happy to look for a copy.  It's set in 1870s Java, which was part of the Colonial Dutch East Indies at the time--another interesting angle.  I am hoping to ease this one into my reading next (as soon as I finish something first that is . . . ).

And then there are books I come across in my meanderings and am not entirely sure whether I want to read, or own at least.  If I can find a library copy all the better.  Unfortunately it has been hit or miss when it comes to finding the titles locally, which is why I love interlibrary loan.  The first of my requests looks like it will be good, Pete Jordan's In the City of Bikes: The Story of the Amsterdam Cyclist.  I was thinking when I requested it that it would be perhaps too much bike and not enough city, but after spending a little time perusing the book, I think it will be a good read.  Even though I am much more a walker than a cyclist, there will still be plenty to keep me occupied.  It's "part memoir, part history of cycling, part street-level tour of Amsterdam".  As it is due back to its home library later in July it will get to jump to the head of the line.

It has some helpful notes at the beginning, like the meaning of a few words that come up very often in my reading:

straat: street
gracht: canal
plein: square
steeg: alley
weg: way
dijk: dike

And how he's going to handle the Holland/The Netherlands references:

"Also, throughout this book, the name ' Holland' is used interchangeably with 'the Netherlands', as is 'Hollanders' for 'Dutch/Netherlanders'.  Since the provinces of North and South Holland (home to the nation's three most populous cities: Amsterdam, Rotterdam and The Hague) comprise only two of the Netherlands' twelve provinces, many citizens of the non-Holland provinces rightly take offense at the term Holland being used to denote the entire nation. "

I've been wondering about that as I see Holland used frequently and have been unsure in what context I should be using it.

As for my daily reading I have been spending as much time with Louis Couperus's Eline Vere as I can.  I am officially at the halfway point.  I only have about 260-ish pages left to read, which is more or less the size of an average novel (even a little shorter really).  If I look at it that way (rather than at those 500+ pages that make the book look pretty brick-like) maybe the last half will fly by even faster than it seems to be going now.  I am hoping just one more week of reading will do the trick.  And yes, I am still loving the story and am growing even more fond of Eline though she is a very conflicted character.  

I've also started reading the Dutch crime novel Shadow Sister by Simone van der Vlugt.  She's called "Holland's Queen of Crime" and I can see why.  I read The Reunion a few years back and knew then I wanted to find more of her work.  She has yet to be published here in the US, but thankfully she has been translated and published in the UK.  Shadow Sister is a twisty-turny story about a teacher threatened by one of her students.  She feels exposed to the world and uneasy about her situation and it is to her twin sister she turns for support.  I won't say anymore about this one now, as I don't want to give away anything good and I most definitely want to tell you about it later, but it is a perfect summer vacation page turner--a psychological suspense story!  I have already ordered her most recent novel Safe as Houses, too (must really stop buying more books . . .).

Next week is a short work week for me due to the Fourth of July holiday.  I'll hopefully be writing about the June instalment of Anna Pavord's gardening book and there will be my usual short story reading, but several days will be given over to more Dutch reading--I've got a book to tell you about, some travel writing and a treat--once again Cath will be guest posting just before the holiday.  Lots to look forward to next week, especially as the week will end in a holiday and in turn a long weekend, which means extra reading for me, I hope.  Until then, happy reading everyone. 

*Postcard at the top of this post is courtesy a Dutch Postcrosser who sent me some touristy shots.  I have lots of cards to share with you, too.

Today's Post is Brought to You . . .

. . . By the letter "T".  Frances of Nonsuch Book caught my interest when she shared a mini list of favorites beginning with the letter "B".  Simon at Stuck in a Book lent her her letter and she in turn lent me my letter.  I'd be happy to loan you a letter next, though we might soon need a venn diagram to keep things straight.  If you don't have a blog but want to play along feel free to leave your favorites in the comments.  It's been ages since I've joined in a meme.  Simon's the author of this one and his instructions are as follows:

I'm going to kick off a meme where we say our favourite book, author, song, film, and object beginning with a particular letter. And that letter will be randomly assigned to you by me, via random.org. If you'd like to join in, comment in the comment section and I'll tell you your letter! (And then, of course, the chain can keep going on your blog.)

To be honest my first letter was "Q", but I think "T" is a much more agreeable letter when it comes to favorites.

Favorite Book:

I thought it would be cheating if I picked a title beginning with "The" (though how would I choose as I have lots of favorites in that case: The Age of Innocence, The Count of Monte Cristo, The Woman in White . . . ).  I do love a good swashbuckling yarn, and Alexandre Dumas's The Three Musketeers most certainly fits the bill!

Favorite Author:

Ooh, definitely Elizabeth Taylor.  Is she still one of those "most underrated" authors?  Surely by now (having been published by Virago, NYRB and Persephone Books!) she has gained fame and acclaim?  If you've not read her yet, you really must.  As a matter of fact, I should read something else by her now that I think about it.  It's been far too long since I've pickec up one of her novels.  She's amazing.  Really.

Favorite Song:

Okay, I am going to cheat on this one.  I love Loreena McKennitt and The Mummer's Dance is one of my favorite songs by her.  Her music always sounds so exotic.  I have several of her albums loaded on to my MP3 player.

Favorite Film:

I'm not sure I would call this my all-time favorite film, but it's a good one!  If you like a well-done, wonderfully atmospheric, noir espionage story set in post-WWII Vienna (Bonus!) The Third Man is an absolute must-see!  I first saw it when I traveled to Vienna--how fitting is that?

Favorite Object:

My TBR pile, of course.  (Well, this is one of them anyway).

Can I interest anyone in a letter?

Midyear: where I'm going & where I've been

Is it just me or do you like to look back over old posts (or maybe old notes or reading journals or whatever you use to keep track of your bookishness) to see what you've been doing or reading over the course of the previous few months?  I was trying to find something or other in my archives and I stopped here and there looking at book lists and library book piles and old reading notes, happy that many books had been read and enjoyed, and maybe not quite so happy that others were set aside and more than a few returned to the library unread.  Then it dawned on me that we have just passed the official halfway mark of the year with Summer Solstice occurring last Saturday.  Do I dare revisit my reading plans that I so optimistically came up with last January?

Okay, why not.  This is a good time to reorganize, re-prioritize, and maybe get my reading back on track (or be happy with the new direction my reading has taken me and not worry about where I would have been had I stuck with my original plans).  As much as I enjoy making plans, it's okay to let whim guide me, too.

I have gotten back to my notebooks.  My 'decomposition' notebook anyway.  As a matter of fact it has worked out so well that over the weekend I had to buy a new one as my old one is nearly full.  I mostly use it for writing down quotes or keeping track of details of the books I am reading.  I find it extremely helpful when I am writing my posts to have close by.  Unfortunately I have not done so well with my Nancy Pearl Book Lust Journal.  I fizzled out at the end of March!  Actually I fizzled out even earlier than that as two months worth of pages simply have title, author and date finished and not a single thought about what I read.  (I guess that is what my blog posts are for).  Maybe I'll go back and fill in the missing books (seeing as I have read less this year than last by end of June there would be fewer books to catch up on).

There is still plenty of time to keep filling in my Vintage Mystery Bingo card.  I've finished and written about two books, and am in the middle of a third (I've read a book with a color in the title and one set in the entertainment world).  I only need six books to complete the challenge and there is still a whole half of a year left to go.  I think I can do that.

Of course I have managed to forget all about the Back to the Classics Challenge I had so enthusiastically contemplated partaking in.  I've only read three classics and two of those were novellas.  The idea is to read six classics in several different categories.  I can count  Honoré de Balzac’s Père Goriot in either the translation or 19th century categories and I am reading WWI literature this year, too.  So maybe this challenge might be salvageable after all.  Four more classics in the next six months?  I would hope so in any case, but then you never know.

I wanted to read more WWI literature since this year marks the centenary anniversary of the beginning of the war.  If I keep up with Caroline's Literature and War Read Along that will easily take me through the rest of the year and I am likely to add a book or two of my own as well.  So, while the books I read may be different than those I set out to tackle this year, I am pleased with my reading so far.

I have been happily making my way through the Little House books by Laura Ingalls Wilder.  I am up to On the Banks of Plum Creek and think I will read it over the long Fourth of July weekend that is coming up.  My set has nine books and I think if I continue to read one every month or so it won't be a problem to finish by the end of the year (unless I decide to gulp down the rest in one go).  I wouldn't mind doing a little extracurricular reading, too, and have collected a book or two for later.

I am working on my subscription books (NYRB Classics and Melville House Art of the Novella), though only very slowly.  I've done a disgraceful job with my Soho Crime books.  But I think I'll save that topic for another day and another post.

Which leaves me with two more 'reading tasks' I set myself.  I really want to get back to my Nebraska authors/Western Literature reading, which I started out fairly well with.  To that end I am reading Nebraska-author Karen Shoemaker's The Meaning of Names, which is excellent.  It is set in small town Nebraska in 1918 and is about German immigrants facing extreme prejudice during WWI.  I have a feeling it might end up being heartbreaking, but it is beautifully written.  It was published by a small press, Red Hen Press, and if their other titles are as exceptional as this one, I will have to investigate their backlist further.  Not to be cryptic, but I think the book will also have local significance, so more about this one later, too.  

And then there is 'The List'.  Yes, that list of books that I come up with every year and then promptly ignore.  True to character, here we are halfway through the year and not a single book crossed off the list.  Every year I say this year will be different.  Seeing as a number of the books are on the hefty side, I don't think it is likely I will get them all read at this point. But it would be nice to be able to cross a few off, so now I am trying to decide which one to pick up.  I am leaning towards Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry since I am swinging towards Western Lit reads once again.  But I am still contemplating which book I would most like to read right now and which one most appeals to me.  I've heard many good things about it and more than one person has said it is unputdownable and not to be put off by the size of the book (so tell me you've read it and I should really read it, too . . . ).  Or maybe I'll write all the titles on little pieces of paper, put them in a jar and pick one--that will leave it entirely up to chance.

As for where I am going?  I will be happy to continue on with these plans.  Other than my Dutch Literature reading, I don't think I will start anything else new, since I am thoroughly enjoying my books at the moment (no matter how slowly I seem to be reading).

What about you?  Where has your reading been taking you?  Are you happy with it or will you look for a new path?

Teaser Tuesday: Geert Mak's Amsterdam

How cool is this--I decided that it was worth owning Geert Mak's Amsterdam: A Brief Life of the City, so ordered it from The Book Depository and the freebie bookmark they included in the order is one of the award winners from their last competition.  They invited readers/customers to design a bookmark and then twenty were chosen (I have managed so far to 'collect' nine of them).  One was designed by a lady in The Netherlands and whoever packed my book kindly sent along the 'Dutch' bookmark. 

If you look closely you will see windmills, bridges, those famous houses that sit by the canals and lots and lots of books.  Surely whoever chose it for my order did so on purpose?  A Dutch-inspired bookmark for a book on the history of Amsterdam.  Who says there aren't nice people out there (packing just the right bookmark for a book--and I will admit, however silly it sounds--I actually do try and match bookmark to book).  If you want to see the designs that won (including Mathilde's in full) they are here.  By the way, I am greedy and hope to collect the other eleven.

My Dutch-inspired reading continues apace (I swear I will write about the other books I'm reading now, too, as there are a variety that grace my night table at the moment).  I've finished Madame Verona and hope to tell you all about it later this week.  Since I am 'in Amsterdam' at the moment with one of my books (and have several crime novels set there to look forward to), I thought it would be a good time to read about the history of the city and have heard good things in general about Geert Mak.

I'm a really slow nonfiction reader, so I am only just starting the second chapter though Mak has a very inviting style of writing.  Nonfiction and history in particular is so often full of detail and as much as I want to take it all in and imprint it firmly on my brain, I imagine I only take away a small portion of what I read no matter how many little marks I make on the margins or note down in my reading journal, and this one is no exception.

Mak takes the reader all the way back to Medieval times to tell the story of Amsterdam.  He starts, "history begins beneath the roots of trees.  It is certainly true of Amsterdam, a city that grew up on the Ij (a bay in the SW of the Zuiderzee--now the Ijsselmmer--today largely reclaimed from the sea) and sank, only to rise again."  It seems as though as illustrious as the city is now, it had a curious beginning.  Mak calls it a "late bloomer" and it is almost by chance that it became the famed city it is now.  He puts it down to three things--chance, the invention of the cog (!), and the stupidity and short-sightedness of others.  The cog revolutionized how goods could be transported making it easy to import and export.  And it was the shortsightedness of the rulers who were trying to make money from the merchant class and their routes through The Netherlands that could be impassable that made the pendulum of success swing towards Amsterdam as the more 'progressive' city.  It all helped the city "cultivate its individuality", which has of course carried over to today. 

It's hard to choose a teaser since so much of what he writes builds on the stories he tells, the pieces of history known and the observations of the culture of the city, but I have picked out something from the prologue that might offer a little insight to what Amsterdam is really like (the city and the people)--at least it will be something for me to build on.

"Amsterdam is not proud; indeed, it is even unproud in a proud sort of way.  The wealthiest Amsterdammers have clung stubbornly to the sobriety of their seventeenth-century forefathers, with the result that a cityscape has emerged untouched by the grandeur of absolutism, and uncut by the broad avenues which might have been driven through the city in the nineteenth century.  Even the proud Amsterdam of the Golden Age was, in its time and according to the norms of the day, the very anti-image of a modern city: traditional in outlook, oriented towards individual citizens rather than a powerful aristocracy.  Its wealth has always been quiet and discreet.  There is a direct line from the eighteenth-century Widow Pels on the Herengracht, who, although the richest inhabitant of the Amsterdam of her day, employed no more than five servants, to the senior manager from the city who recently asked in a weekly magazine whether the KLM airline could not tone down the service in its Business Class a little: 'A cheese sandwich and a glass of milk are more than enough as I am concerned'."

I'm really looking forward to forming a fuller picture in my mind of Amsterdam.  Hopefully I will come away with more than I am expecting to remember.  To that end I might just write about the book along the way, breaking it all down into something a little more manageable to write about.  I have added a few more books to my reading pile and have requested a few more via my library's interlibrary loan (and may even look up a few travel guides for visuals).  But more about those books later.

Short Story Sunday: Mark Twain's Luck

I've not read enough by Mark Twain to be any sort of a judge but I get the feeling that there is always more to what he wrote than what you see on the surface.  Maybe the story is meant tongue in cheek or as a satire or is told with irony.  Maybe if I knew more about him personally I could gage better, but then maybe it really doesn't matter at all.  All that does matter is what is printed on the page, what I bring to the story and how it affects me upon reading it.

The story in question is "Luck" from Fifty Great American Short Stories, which I am back to reading again.  It was originally published in Harper's Magazine in 1891and then later in a collection that also contained the novella I read last year, The Man Who Corrupted Hadleyburg.  It is one of the shorter stories in the collection and you can read it online here should you have the desire to do so.  I did a little digging around to see what others had to say about the story and came up with a different 'interpretation' than the more obvious one I came away with.

At the start there is a footnote telling the reader that "this is not a fancy sketch.  I got it from a clergyman who was an instructor at Woolwich forty years ago, and who vouched for its truth."  An unnamed narrator is telling the story, which was told to him by a man of strict veracity and good judgment.  The story he tells is about a celebrated military man who has 'made his name' on the battlefields of the Crimean War and who is in attendance at a banquet in London.  Real names have been withheld (the narrator refers to him as Lieutenant-General Lord Arthur Scoresby, Y.C., K.C.B., etc, etc, etc), but no doubt he is likely to be known to all.  (And if we don't know him, we all know someone like him).

"It was food and drink to me to look and look, at that demi-god; scanning, searching, noting: the quietness, the reserve, the noble gravity of his countenance; the simple honesty that expressed itself all over him; the sweet unconsciousness of his greatness--unconsciousness of the hundreds of admiring eyes fastened upon him, unconsciousness of the deep, loving, sincere worship welling out of the breasts of those people and flowing towards him."

Lord Arthur's reputation precedes him.  Every undertaking, every decision, every battle he takes part in is golden.  He can do no wrong.  You know the sort of man who is simply touched with luck no matter what the circumstances?  The thing is every one of these undertakings, these battles and decisions begin quite contrary.  This hero is no hero--the reverend calls him a fool!  He himself was an instructor at the military academy at Woolwich where he taught young Scoresby.  He literally got by by the skin of his teeth and it's almost spoofish to think of the man's ineptness and how he managed to know nothing and do nothing well at all yet would not only pass but do so in a way that made him appear as though he was top of the class. 

The worst is when he was leading a regiment of men in the Crimean War and accidentally turned the wrong way (not knowing the difference between left foot and right!) and set his troops in the way of the Russians.  Lots and lots of Russians.  It was with disbelief that they saw these British soldiers marching in (bungling in must be more like it).  Surely so few men would never try something so bold as to attack so many men, thus there must be an army of British soldiers behind them.  Instead they  turned tail and ran.

As I was reading I could only think of this tale as being of the "Emperor's new Clothes" ilk.  Scoresby is unfit and foolish and not worthy of the accolades he as received.  Was there someone Twain had in mind when he was writing this story.  Some famous man who was in this position without having actually earned the respect he receives?  But there is another way to 'read' the story, and I think I like it almost more.  Not to be contrary, but it's always good to question those telling tales.  It's always good to question and be a little critical.  What exactly is the Reverend's motivation anyway?  And shouldn't a clergyman be more christian and charitable (ow well, then again we're all human, but . . .).  Maybe it is jealousy that is fueling the telling of (downright negative) tales.  Certainly something to think about.  And isn't that always the beauty of a well written and thoughtful short story?  Some little kernel of truth at heart and then an interpretation best left up to the reader!

Next week is Francis Bret Harte's "The Outcast of Poker Flat" (which I have a vague recollection of having read in high school).

* * * * *

I am beginning to fall behind in my New Yorker reading.  (Good thing that a long weekend is just around the corner--and so looking forward to it am I that I am almost counting the days.  The June 2 issue has a most interesting story, which I will tell you about it in a moment.  The June 9 & 16 is a double issue chock full of longer and shorter stories what I hope to get to this coming week, and already queued is the June 23rd issue with a story by a new to me author, Maile Maloy, an American woman writer--yay.  I'm always happy to see more women fiction writers in the pages of the New Yorker (and elsewhere, of course).

This week's story, however, is by Thomas Pierce.  Tell me, what do you think a story called "Ba Baboon" is about?  I bet you won't guess.  You're in luck, though.  You can read the story here, and see the accompanying illustration, which might just give you a hint or two to the content of the story.  (Have I mentioned before how I always think of short stories as being like a box of chocolates?  You never know what you're going to get.  It might be a delicious butter-cream or my least favorite that has coconut in the middle).  "Ba Baboon" is definitely a vanilla butter-cream, which is always a nice surprise when at the outset I could only think oh no, coconut.

I'm not going to tell you much about the story as the telling and unravelling is all the fun.  But let me set the scene and hopefully you'll be tempted to click the link and read it for yourself.  There are two people in one of those walk in pantries.  They are brother and sister, Brooks and Mary.  It's small and coffin-like and they are surrounded by cans of food.  Someone else's food and someone else's pantry.   Why are they there?  To make it all more interesting Brooks has suffered an accident to the brain, which has changed him, changed his personality and memories.  It's all pretty curious really, and quirky sounding but it works. 

I always like reading the Q&A that the New Yorker does with the author (you can read it here).  One of the things Pierce wanted to explore in this story is "what makes us what we are?"  The impetus for the story was an accident his grandfather had which also subtly changed him, making Pierce wonder which was the true man.  Was the true self before the accident or after?  Yet again, another story that raises interesting and provoking questions.  One of the reasons I love reading.

Something to look forward to--Thomas Pierce has a collection of stories due out early next year, Hall of Small Mammals: Stories.

Amsterdam Cops: Collected Stories

Okay, so this is a little bit of trivia (or literary minutiae, if you will) that is likely to only appeal to librarians, or people who work in libraries and are familiar with the process of cataloging books.  But here goes anyway.  Janwillem van de Wetering, the Dutch author who published more than a dozen mysteries featuring Detective-Adjutant Henk Grijpstra and Detective-Sargeant Rinus De Gier have their own Library of Congress subject headings.  Yes, if you look in the authority file, there they are in all their literary glory.  I can see the excitement on your face!  All silliness aside (though really, it is a big deal that they have their own subject headings, basically searchable tags--not every fictional character gets one), they are a pair of quite famous, very much established detectives working in Amsterdam's Criminal Investigation Department (CID), otherwise known as the Murder Brigade.  And my first impression is that they are both interesting and likable fellows.

After reading The Amsterdam Cops: Collected Stories, which contains all thirteen short stories they appear in, I'm not sure that Amsterdam has such a thriving criminal culture.  I mean there is crime, and there are murders, but if the stories are anything to go by, Amsterdam is probably a fairly safe city to live in.  The sort of criminality that seems most common has to do with drugs, prostitution, and theft in regards to the vast number of tourists that flood the city every year.  Early on de Gier says, "nothing ever happens in Amsterdam, and when it does, it all fits together immediately."  I certainly found that to be the case in these stories.  They are a hodge podge of cases that fall somewhere between traditional detective work and a traditional crime story--not really in the vein of cozies but also not overly dark, noir tales either.  Of course I have only short stories to go by, so maybe once I begin reading ven de Wetering's full length mysteries I'll find the stories are quite different.  I told you they are likable fellows?

"De Gier said his colleague Grijpstra was the good cop, too.  He told the foreign visitor that the bad-cop/good-cop combination is not used much in The Netherlands.  All Dutch cops are expected to respect their clients.  The practical reason for Netherlandic-cop goodness, de Gier explained in fluent English, was lack of jail space.  No use going all out to make arrests if you can't put the bad folks behind bars anyway."

And it's not just that all the many cells are filled to overflowing.  No, the state simply didn't give them too many to begin with.  They build other facilities with the taxpayers' money, you see.  A soccer field here, a swimming pool there.  De Gier and Grijpstra?

"So we try and mediate, be reasonable, to use the maximum benefit of all possible doubts.  Our practice aims at getting people to quiet down a bit, so they can go fishing, watch their savings accounts grow, play with their kids, visit their parents."

The stories are mostly imbued with this light-hearted playfulness, though there is lots of seriousness going on as well and maybe even the occasional  moment of darkness.  But mostly the pair seem pretty laid back.

"'We,' Grijpstra said gruffly, showing the visitor his uniform hat, decorated with a bronze crown, 'we, the police, represent the crown, which is worn by the queen, and the crown represents the Netherlandic Idea of God, who, we assume, is forgiving rather than vengeful'."

'''That's the theoretical aspect.' De Gier smiled.  'It's mostly applied in Amsterdam.  In the provinces the Dutch divinity may be seen as sterner'."

That sets the tone, don't you think?  On more than one occasion their dialogue elicited a chuckle or two.  But this is a crime novel, and there are moments of taciturnity, cantankerousness and a pair of cops, who go by the nicknames Karate and Ketchup, who are only too ready to break heads (of men and women alike), use their weapons and let fly whole strings of particularly descriptive profanities.

There is lots I can tell you about Grijpstra and de Gier, however.  Grijpstra is the older of the two.  He's "bulky", grey haired and wears a "forbidding suit", has been married "too long" (but over the course of the stories I think he either must divorce or simply has affairs), as he does not hold his wife in high regard.  I might even call him borderline a-tiny-bit-misogynistic, but I think he appreciates an attractive woman, just doesn't have a happy relationship with his wife.  He drums and is a good painter and is known to partake of Jenever on occasion. 

Now de Gier?  He would be a most 'crushable' character were it not for his mustache "modeled on those high-ranking cavalry officers a hundred years back".  In contemporary terms he is what is known as a 'hottie'.  Tall, narrow-waisted, broad shoulders, large brown eyes "softly pleading", thick curly brown hair and pronounced cheekbones.  It's obvious the stories were written over many years and not for one collection as descriptions of the two detectives are often given, particularly of Rinus, who is quite the natty dresser and a Judo champion.  He's the Hollywood guy in terms of looks-his handsomeness always seems to precede him.  And he's a sensitive guy, too, feeling sorrow for his intrusions of the lives of private citizens.  He doesn't want to own a car, and the big selling point for me--he owns a cat called Tabriz.  Although his girlfriends are often referred to, he doesn't seem to have one special significant other.  I told you, definite 'crushable' material.

The pair are exceedingly pleasant men (even when Grijpstra is complaining about his wife).  And they prefer their wreck of a Volkswagen when out on cases even though it is dented, tiny and old.  Occasionally there is mention of a Fiat, but they love their Volkswagen.  I have learned a lot about the men and can describe them in great detail as you can see, though at the same time I feel like I don't necessarily 'know' them at all, if that makes sense.  Again, I am looking forward to reading the first mystery now. 

I won't give a run down of plotlines for the stories, but I think you might have a strong sense of what they are like even without knowing what each story is about.  In some stories both detectives are there from start to finish and in others appear only at the end or are merely mentioned.  Several are about crimes concerning tourists.  Some are fairly traditional whodunnit-like stories and others seem only peripherally crime related.  In a way they are very much about the psychology of either the criminals or the detectives (as any good crime story should be in my opinion), yet the psychology (and I am borrowing from one of the cover blurbs) is most Zen-like.  There is a symmetry to the stories and they are graceful.  I liked nearly each story, though a few were less to my taste, but as a collection, I have to say this has been a wonderful way to be introduced to Grijpstra and de Gier.  It is another case of getting a strong sense of place in my reading and I know the descriptions must be accurate as van de Wetering was born in Rotterdam, though he also lived abroad (including in Maine in the US). 

As mentioned, I am already looking forward to the first van de Wetering mystery, Outsider in Amsterdam.  I had all but decided my next read would be Simone van der Vlugt's Shadow Sister (I read her book Reunion several years back and enjoyed it very much) but now I am wavering.  Will have to pull both books out this weekend and do a reading test to see which one grabs me most.  Just how many books can one person read at once?  (Don't answer that, you already know what a pushover I am when it comes to books). 

Reading Notes: It's all in the Details

I checked.  This week the weather in Amsterdam sounds pretty pleasant--mid-60s, partly cloudy with only a small chance of rain.  Much nicer than the  sweltering heat which has arrived in Omaha just as scheduled.  Usually near the end of June and close to the Fourth of July holiday we can look forward to hot weather and the beginnings of oppressive humidity.  Good thing I am 'traveling' this week and am meandering the various neighborhoods in Amsterdam (okay, only through the pages of a book, but I won't complain--the imagination is a powerful thing).

I've been dipping into a variety of books--almost every day I spend a little time in The Hague with Eline.  That's a different landscape altogether, however.  Much more an internal one.  I know where I am physically in the story, but I can probably describe her bedroom/sitting room much more than I can tell you about the city.  And more so the landscape of her mind/emotions.  Now Grijpstra and DeGier's Amsterdam is quite colorful.  Crime is rampant, as it is in every fictional city (as mystery novels go), and the cast of characters equally so.  And not just the criminals.  But as I am likely to finish my book of short stories tonight, I am saving those details for tomorrow. 

So it's Adrian Mathews' The Apothecary's House which I'll share a bit with you today.  The tag line on the book's cover reads "a looted painting, a secret code, a deadly pursuit . . . ".  Intriguing, yes?  It's contemporary Amsterdam that Mathews writes about, in particular the Rijksmuseum.  Maybe because the book is written by an English-speaking author who's trying to create a particular atmosphere that the book is replete with delicious details, but whatever the case, it works for me.  I want to be there.  Caught up in the story, yes, but I want to see the streets, learn the history, see the houses, smell the food, hear the gentle lap of the water in the canals . . .  And Mathews is doing a good job transporting me there and keeping me turning the pages for the story, too.

The plot revolves around a 19th century painting that was appropriated by the Nazis and earmarked specially for Hitler's personal collection.  It has a number of mysterious tags on the back.  It would continue to be tucked away in the museum's basement for safekeeping whilst the curators are busy logging, sorting, trying to match up paintings with original owners.  Except for an eccentric elderly woman named Lydia who barges into the museum one day demanding they hand over her painting.  Lydia's mother was Jewish and father was Dutch and you can imagine what became of the family.  Without the necessary paperwork and the proof of ownership her claim is sitting in a sort of limbo for the time being. 

But it's early days yet for the story (another hefty book with just over 700 pages--but it seems to read fast) so I'll save those details for when I finish.  Instead let me help paint a portrait of Ruth's life in Amsterdam.  Ruth is the main protagonist.  I'm still working out Ruth's background, though I know she is an Art Historian/Archivist.  She lives on a houseboat in the Jordaan neighborhood.

"The Jordaan was a one-for-all and all-for-one place, where students, refugees, yuppies, almshouse dwellers and boat people rubbed shoulders and joined forces,  successfully petitioning against a second subway line.  They had somehow distilled and bottled the quintessence of flower power--that fugitive and much-maligned fragrance of sixties' peace, love and agitprop--dabbling it behind their ears in defiance of hard-nosed times."

Lydia on the other hand, while dressing more like a pauper than a princess, doesn't just rent an apartment on the Keizersgracht (the Emperor's Canal), she owns one of those swank homes.  And while both Lydia and her house have seen better days, it certainly puts into perspective the claim she makes on ownership of the painting living in one of the ritzier neighborhoods of Amsterdam. 

I like Ruth's Amsterdam, however.  I think I could be happy there.  She eats at the Stoop Bistro and frequents De Twee Zwaantjes and De Doffer's coffee shop in her neighborhood.  Although personal contact between claimants and researchers is frowned upon, a chance encounter with Lydia (rather irreverently referred to in Ruth's mind as 'Bags' since she carries so many of them about with her) outside the museum results in an unlikely friendship forming.  Maybe it's more she feels sorry for Lydia and is intrigued by the painting (and no doubt it is soon to cause her any number of difficulties as there is another individual claiming ownership), but she gets pulled into Lydia's world.  Lydia invites her into her home for a meal.

"Bags came in with a tray, advancing like a tightrope walker so as not to spill the goodies -- jenever and eggnog, biscuits with Leiden cheese that was encrusted with caraway seeds."

Jenever must be a popular drink in The Netherlands since it has popped up more than once in my Grijpstra and DeGier short story reading, too.  Interestingly so has the fact that kids like to derail the trams in Amsterdam!

"'It's the bloody kids!' he protested.  'Look!'  He held up a piece of mangled red plastic.  'They stuff empty shotgun cartridges with match heads, hammer down the open end, and ram two or three into the rail.  Along we come, and Bang!  You wouldn't believe it, but that's all it takes to nobble a tram'!"

Just one more interesting tidbit I will leave you with, and maybe my friend Cath in The Netherlands can tell us if this is an accurate description of Dutch people or not, but when Ruth is in Lydia's home all the curtains are closed and she has an urge to open them all as--"the Dutch instinct is to leave the curtains open".

So a picture is forming in my mind, slowly and a very general one.  But this is what I had hoped for when I began reading--to get a sense of place and people, if possible.  And to read some good stories along the way.  As I am nearly finished with one book, already my attention is being drawn to my stack of books for the next read! 

A Dutch Literature Reading List!

I was a little afraid when I decided my reading destination this summer would be The Netherlands that I might not find enough books to keep me busy, but what a silly thought.  This is the pile I have amassed so far (there are a couple of books still en route and a couple cut off in the photo and at least one ebook on the ipad I am using) and I clearly have far more books to read than the time in which to read them--even over the course of the next three (gosh, time is flying by--two and a half) months or so.  I was afraid I might not have enough to talk about or share with you (silly, too, since this is only the first of three planned posts I am working on to finish out this week).  For the time being, however, I have plenty to keep me busy here and offline, too. 

Since you never know when you might have a hankering to pick up a book set in The Netherlands or translated from Dutch, I thought I would share my 'reading list'.  Although there is a mishmash of books here, I have them subdivided in my head: Books set in The Netherlands but written in English or another language, fiction translated from Dutch, mysteries or crime stories translated from Dutch, classics translated from Dutch and nonfiction translated from Dutch.

Books set in The Netherlands (but written in English or some other language):

The Apothecary's House, Adrian Mathews
Love in Amsterdam, Nicolas Freeling
Maigret in Holland, Georges Simenon
Tulip Fever, Deborah Moggach
Shooting in the Dark, Carolyn Hougan
Girl in Hyacinth Blue, Susan Vreeland (a reread--interlinked stories concerning the provenance of a Vermeer painting--loved this the first time I read it)
The Anatomy Lesson, Nina Siegal
The Miniaturist, Jessie Burton
The Good Thief's Guide to Amsterdam by Chris Ewan
After You've Gone by Jeffrey Lent
History of a Pleasure Seeker by Richard Mason

Dutch Fiction:

Madame Verona Comes Down the Hill, Dimitri Verhulst (translated from Dutch, but the author is actually Belgian--or is it more proper to say Flemish?)
Amsterdam Stories, Nescio
Villa des Roses, Willem Elsschot
On the Water, H.M. van den Brink
The Storm, Margriet de Moor

Dutch Crime/Mysteries:

The Amsterdam Cops: Collected Stories, Janwillem van de Wetering
Outsider in Amsterdam, Janwillem van de Wetering
Tumbleweed, Janwillem van de Wetering
Murder in Amsterdam, A.C. Baantjer
DeKok and the Somber Nude, A.C. Baantjer
DeKok and Murder on the Menu, A.C. Baantjer
The Sundial, Maarten 'T Hart
The Dinner Club, Saskia Noort
Close-Up, Esther Verhoef
Rendezvous, Esther Verhoef
Shadow Sister, Simone van der Vlugt
The Vanishing, Tim Krabbé

Dutch Classics:

Eline Vere, Louis Couperus
Inevitable, Louis Couperus
Ecstasy, Louis Couperus

Dutch Nonfiction:

Amsterdam: A Brief Life of the City, Geert Mak
An Island in Time: The Biography of a Village, Geert Mak
Etty Hillesum: An Interrupted Life, the Diaries, 1941-1943 and Letters from Westerbork

You'll definitely be hearing about some of these (a few as soon as tomorrow!).  I'm happy to have them on my shelves for whenever the mood arises (for the ones I don't get to this summer).  If you are curious what I am reading at the moment,  you can check out my sidebar on the right.  I've got a tag going for my posts.  I know I have more than enough books to keep me busy for a long time, but if there is something really good I've left off my list, do let me know.  I read according to whim, and it's always good to have a variety of books to choose from! I'm already nearing the end of two books so my thoughts are turning to the pile and which two books to read next.