A Work in Progress

Ready for the Weekend Reading Notes

So, do you think it is cheating if rather than reading the entire Lord Peter Wimsey mystery series, I read only those books that involve Harriet Vane?  I like Harriet a lot.  I read Gaudy Night years ago and have ever since wanted to read 'her' mysteries.  I have tried to get through the first Lord Peter book, but for some odd reason I struggled with it.  Maybe another try would work out better, or I could just go directly to the stories involving Harriet.

This comes up as I was looking for an older mystery to read and I came across Gaudy Night, and then one thought leads to another--or as is always the case with me--one book leads to another.  It's inevitable.  If I am looking for one particular book I will see three more I want to read that I had forgotten about.

So, I pulled Gaudy Night, to think about.  And I pulled two other older mysteries and will read one for sure and the other probably.  Years and years ago I read almost all but one of M.M Kaye's romantic suspense novels.  The ones set in exotic locales.  I loved them and stored them away for some rainy day to reread and hopefully love again.  Almost all of them were reissued by Minotaur Books with lovely covers.  For some reason I have the one unread story in an old, vintage edition--Death in Zanzibar (subtitle 'murder,  mystery and romance on the exotic Isle of Cloves').  I could do with a little of each, but I will have to simply content myself with reading about them.  And no trip to the exotic Isle of Cloves either (Zanzibar is off the coast of Tanzania in East Africa--I had to look it up, I am sorry to admit).  So, now, of course I want to reread the rest of M.M. Kaye's mysteries. They will likely be as exotic as I get destination-wise this year.

The other book that came out of the bin (I keep my mysteries stored in plastic bins) is the first Vicky Bliss mystery, Borrower of the Night.  It was written in the early 1970s and is perhaps a little dated.  I read the first few pages, but I am not at all put off by that.  Strange as it might sound there is actually a sort of appeal that it gives a flavor of the era.  Or maybe I just like really sassy heroines and Vicky is certainly sassy.  So I will start out in Zanzibar and perhaps move on to Vicky's adventure (in Germany) after.

I have a full reading agenda this weekend.  I always hope for more than I can manage but that never stops me from trying to squeeze in every last moment I can with a book.  I have several books recently finished that I need to write about, so hopefully that will happen next week.  A little celebration--I have finished the February NYRB subscription book (so far so good this year--despite the wrinkle of an errant book that had to be replaced).  Now I am ready to move on to Patrick Modiano's In the Café of Lost Youth, which looks really good.  The most recent copy of the New York Review of Books arrived in the mail today.  Do I flip pages until I get to the ad announcing the April book or try and avoid looking in order to be surprised? 

Much like last weekend's Photobooth, I have another graphic novel that is due back at the library and I cannot renew it.  So it is either read it this weekend or return it mostly unread (I have started it, and have been making a concerted effort at reading the library books I allow myself to check out).  A little teaser about the graphic novel I will be spending time with: "Petty Theft is a comedy of errors, a laugh-out-loud account of a man on a mission, and a testament to the addictiveness of book ownership."  How can I resist that?

I totally skipped writing about my Elizabeth Taylor short story, so I will hopefully write about that before the end of the weekend and plan on reading the next in the collection.  I am optimistically trying to finish the book by the end of this month, but I fear it will spill over into April.

I imagine this is more than enough to keep me occupied with reading this weekend, but I have two other books I am hoping to spend some time with.  I began reading William Trevor's Love and Summer on St. Patrick's Day and I immediately fell into the story and find myself wanting to reach for it again and again.  I have read him before.  I knew he was good, but I apparently forgot just how good.  His prose is so crystal clear and he writes with an economy which is a little misleading as it is beautiful at the same time.  I am already nearly halfway through and as it is not a very long book I might manage to read more of it this weekend than I think.  

And one last one on this weekend's pile is the March book for Caroline's readalong, 1914 by Jean Echnoz.  I am hoping to read all the books on her list, but for some reason I was thinking the discussion would not be until April, so now I will try and play catch up.  It is another slender book and I have it close at hand so we'll see how far I can get in a few days. 

Oops one more.  We'll call it an honorable mention.  For the moment it is only a book I hope to leaf through and look at.  It was recommended by Meags Fitzgerald, and was a book she referred to when writing Photobooth, so I had to have it, too.  I ordered a 'used' copy that looks brand spanking new and it arrived just a couple of days ago, American Photobooth by Näkki Goranin.  I really do want to read the essay that takes up the first third of the book, but the rest is all actual photos taken in photobooths or illustrations about their history.  I've spent a little time with it already and it is a fun book and I can't wait to peruse it in more depth.

I hope you have lots of good reading to look forward to this weekend, too!

Ten Books to (finish) Read Now

You know how much I love lists, so I couldn't resist joining in when I saw a few fellow bloggers had made lists of books they want to read from their TBR piles, or some variation on the theme, and in need of something to write about today here we go.  However, I am doing my own variation on the theme.  I began by thinking of books on my own TBR (not necessarily new spring releases, though I will be sharing some of those soon) pile, but felt just the tiniest (very tiny) little twinge of guilt to be once again thinking of new books I want to read when I am in the middle of so many good ones already.  In case you are curious, though, my list is up to 24 titles and that was just books that came off the top of my head that I have been thinking about reading recently.  I didn't even need to look at any of my many paper or virtual lists, in which case I could probably easily double that list. 

No.  Instead let me turn my attention once again to those poor books, which through no fault of their own have been sitting ignored in a 'will get back to these books later' pile.  I was so into them at one time, but then you know how it goes.  You start thinking of those new books (the ones just swirling around in my head that I just referred to) and then on occasion cave in and pick them up and start reading.  I have yet to discover how to grow more free time (those magic seeds are in some catalog to be ordered--probably sitting on a bench in the same place that Harry Potter gets on his train to Hogworts . . . ).  Until then I have less perceived reading time than I have actual real time to spend reading all the books I want to read.  So, sometimes, a few get set aside.  More often than I like.  Maybe they are not clicking at that particular moment or they just get nudged aside by chance, but I cannot quite bring myself to simply return them to my bookshelves.  I always think 'I am going to get back to this one really soon'.  And soon becomes weeks or months, or maybe even longer. 

I have a few more then ten of these I fear, but here are ten books I was reading and enjoying until life got too busy and now they are waiting patiently for me to return to them.  In no particular order, since I don't want to play favorites:

Fall of Giants by Ken Follett -- the first of a, I'm not sure how many actually--trilogy? quartet?--of books following a set cast of characters.  When last I left off, WWI had just started.  A nice door stopper of a story.

Letters from a Lost Generation by Vera Brittain -- I think I was anticipating the first of the awful deaths that Brittain had to endure.  The letters are really beautiful and truthful and you get a painful sense of what it was like then.  I have left this for a long time but I still do want to get back to the letters.

East of Eden by John Steinbeck -- I read so far into this classic that I can't bear to put it back on the shelf, but I know it will take some serious skimming to get back up to speed with the story.  And this is a book that I literally practically missed my bus stop while reading when I was so into it.  I think it was just too hefty to pack into my bookbag and then it became one of those other books on that pile and I never picked it back up.

Marjorie Morningstar by Herman Wouk -- Another hefty book.  I was enjoying it and think I just hit a slowish spot.  I keep thinking of picking it up again being in a mood to read about NYC, Jewish life and the theater-world.  Check all those points for a perfect fit of a read.

Red Joan by Jennie Rooney -- Hmm.  Considering how many novels with a spy/espionage, war slant that appear on this list these books must have been part of one of my failed season of spies.  When I was really into it, it was a page turner-about Communist activities of a woman who got entangled with a Russian man.

Light of the Moon by Elizabeth Buchan -- Another story of WWII and espionage about a woman parachuted into Occupied France and who I think, is going to fall for a German officer, but I never quite got that far.

Decision at Delphi by Helen Macinnes -- Oh, Helen Mcinnes, I want to read all your books and I think I now own nearly all of them.  This one is set in post-WWII Greece.  Another door-stopper and I am not even too far away from finishing it.  Yikes.  Maybe I should pick this one up now.

The Chevalier by Cynthia Harrod-Eagles -- Am too embarrassed to say how many times I talk about this.  Restoration England (actually this one might be just post-Restoration) is not really my time period.  I am not fond of one of the main characters, but I just can't bring myself to skip it.  I have the whole set of these, which I have such grand plans to read all of . . . it may well take me decades to get through them all at this rate.  Someday I will finish this and move on to the next. 

Blackbird by Tom Wright -- I loved his first book and was enjoying this crime novel, but it is dark and somewhat violent and I think I just needed something cozier at the moment. 

Wildwood by Roger Deakin -- I love Roger Deakin and this is the most recent 'set this aside temporarily' book.  Not much time has passed and I should really get back to it as it is freshest in mind.

I am trying this year to not set aside so many in progress books and if I do, to literally return them to their piles and bookshelves as this is obviously such a bad habit.  But then bad habits are hard to break, aren't they?

Reading Tove Jansson

It's always a good thing (and I tend not to do it--at least I didn't do a very good job in previous years) of revisiting reading plans.  The year is already (scarily) speeding by, but it is still early days yet to feel like I have a good chance of reading the books/themes I had set off trying to read at the beginning of this year. 

One of the little 'goals' (and I use the term loosely as my plans were just sort of jumping off places in order to get my reading going) was to read Tove Jansson's work.  I have already read one of her short story collections, and thoroughly enjoyed it.  I've been 'collecting' her other books here and there and my latest addition is the book on the bottom of this pile, a biography of Tove Jansson that I used a coupon and gift card to buy and which just came in the mail a couple of days ago.  This, of course, reminded me that I need to pick up another of her books soon.  So, why not turn soon into--now.  

I still have a few other books to add to my pile of her work, and I have another book somewhere (already read) on my bookshelves.  But from top to bottom:

The Woman Who Borrowed Memories: Selected Stories by Tove Jansson is a lovely NYRB edition of her work.  It is not all her short stories but there is a sampling of stories from a number of her books: Listener (1971), The Doll's House (1978), Traveling Light (1987), Letters from Klara (1991) and Messages: Selected Stories 1971-1997 (1998). 

Fair Play is a short novel -- "the type of novel that is rarely told, a revelatory depiction of contentment, hard-won and exhilarating."  Maybe I should start with this one as it might shed some light on my own search for contentment.

I've got somewhere and have already read (but want to reread) her A Summer Book, and now here is A Winter Book: Selected Stories.  I'm curious about this due to the format, which says short stories but the short works are accompanied by B&W photos.

I am likely, however, to begin with Sculptor's Daughter: A Childhood Memoir in which she "shares the pleasures of experiencing nature in Finland and growing up with a happy, freedom-loving family.  It is an account of childhood that speaks to readers everywhere."

It seems like the perfect read to start with in anticipation of reading my new (and beautifully designed and lavishly illustrated) Tove Jansson: Work and Love by Tuula Karjalainen.  It is an absolutely gorgeous book.  When I first considered buying it, I knew it seemed more than a simple splurge, but now that I have splurged I have decided it is a most worthwhile investment as it is not just a biography, but quite literally a coffee-table sort of book to display.  It is such a tactile book, and so pretty to look at--quite perfect for the woman for whom it is about!

Now I will have to add a few of her Moomin books and must get a copy of her novel The True Deceiver, too.  This will definitely be a reading project I will work on with great pleasure!

The Two-Family House: A Novel

Was it Flaubert or Tolstoy who said every unhappy family was unhappy in a different way?  In Lynda Cohen Loigman's debut novel The Two Family House, one large extended family so seemingly perfectly matched as to be almost complementary indeed has their own unique version of unhappiness.  It's the split second decision two women make one fateful winter night that puts the tiniest crack just below the surface, which over time will wrench the family apart with heart-breaking repercussions that play out years later.

Rose and Helen aren't just sisters-in-law, they are so close as to be almost real sisters.  The two have married a pair of brothers and split a two-family brownstone in Brooklyn.  Helen and Abe live upstairs with their four rambunctious sons while Mort and Rose live below with their three daughters.  If Abe and Mort couldn't be more different, Helen and Rose couldn't be more alike.  It's post-WWII New York City, where family is everything and the two women raise their families very traditionally.  If one woman is missing an ingredient for her cooking, the other is sure to have it.

Abe is a cheerful man who happily helps run the family's box company but when their father dies, elder brother Mort must give up a promising university career to help out.  What started out as possibly temporary turns into a full-time job.  Mort's taciturn disposition, his desk faces the wall with his back to the door, sets the tone for his own family life.  Surely the absence of a son is the one roadblock to his happiness.  His daughters crave his approval, which he seems unable to give, and life for Rose is always a challenge.  It's not even necessary that Rose confide in Helen, since it is so obvious the struggle she has to maintain a happy home life.  Helen and Abe are perfectly paired, but Helen longs for a daughter.  As her sons grow older, their rough and tumble ways make Helen wish for a daughter she can give advice to or share quieter moments with.

For both women the years begin to stretch out from their youngest children until they have accepted their families are now complete.  The two have had pregnancies that overlap but when both share the news that each is expecting another child they look forward to having babies who will be contemporaries.  They will raise them as they have their other children, as one big family.  Maybe it's only an Old Wives tale, but after seven years pass from the birth of a last child, the body switches course so to speak and surely for both women this might be their last chance to have a much wanted son for Mort and Rose and daughter for Helen and Abe.  So much rests on the impending births, especially for Rose and Mort.  A son would give them a new lease on life and a renewed chance of real happiness.

One snowy winter's night when Abe and Mort are away on box business in Philadelphia Rose goes into labor. The snowfall turns into a blizzard and no ambulance will come out into the storm, so a midwife comes to them.  And delivers not just a baby boy but a baby girl.  Maybe it's like having sympathy pains, bodies syncing perhaps, but both women have their babies on the same night.  And it happens.  Those late babies are the wished for children.  When the midwife finishes, handing over the swaddling little joys to their mothers, she reflects--

"Never before had she seen such longing, pain and relief braided together more tightly.  Two mothers, two babies born only minutes apart.  She had witnessed tonight what pure woman strength could accomplish, how the mind could control the body out of absolute desperation."

"The fragile magic of that night had not been lost to her".  The midwife carefully walks down the snowy steps and into a freezing cold Brooklyn night and nothing will ever again be quite the same for either family.  Maybe this is the moment to say 'be careful for what you wish for'.  Happiness has a way of not just giving, but also demanding some sort of payment.  When the two men return to their families, it is to two new additions that will cause a most unexpected upheaval in the lives of parents and children alike.

Such a perfect ending to an already mostly happy story for both families you must be thinking?  But something cracked that night.  With time the tiny little imperfection in a once shiny surface will grow and grow.  You can probably imagine at this point the trajectory the story will take.  And maybe you will be right.  But maybe, too, not in quite the way you will expect.  This is such a rich family saga.  One moment, one unthought-out decision can give such pleasure and cause so much pain, too.  That night and whatever happened behind closed doors will change everything.  That tiny crack allows uncertainties and resentments to spill out. 

The Two-Family House reads almost like a mystery.  It's not the revelations of what happened that night that are so stunning, and maybe that moment will seem almost banal really, but it is the way that Cohen Loigman explores the relationships--between brothers, between husbands and wives, parents and children, siblings and most particularly between best friends that makes this such a satisfying read.  I really enjoyed the story.  There is a simplicity in the telling but a complexity to the characters' relationships that made this such a page turner for me.  For a first novel, I was impressed and I expect Lynda Cohen Loigman will only get better with time. 

I actually had my eye on this book when I first read about it last fall.  It must have been wish fulfillment the author's publicist offered me a review copy.  She kindly sent along a Q&A and other information from the author/publisher.  I will be watching for Lynda's next book, which she writes--"is another family story.  As an elderly woman watches her granddaughter's wedding plans unfold, she is reminded  of her own marriage, and a secret she has kept from her own family for over fifty years.  The narrative flashes back to the grandmother's days as a young woman in New York in the 1930s and 1940s."  Another book to add to my list that I will be watching for!

Photobooth: A Biography, Meags Fitzgerald

I think I could easily name this post, 'A Photobooth Odyssey', or maybe 'Everything You Wanted to Know about Photobooths But Were Afraid to Ask'.  I am very envious of Meags Fitzgerald who has written about, in graphic novel format, her lifelong love affair with photobooths.  Photobooth: A Biography really is a sort of odyssey as she recounts not only the history of photobooths but also her own use of them in her artwork and as a collector and the time she spent traveling to document remaining machines all over North America and Europe before they disappear entirely.  Like so many much-loved, at one time wildly popular and much-used analog devices, they are slowly (sometimes not so slowly anymore) being replaced by more efficient (though in some cases far less charming) digital machines. 

Do you remember photobooths?  I remember them in malls (when malls were still popular and even they are disappearing these days, too) and surely at some time in my youth I must have had  my photo taken in one.  It's been ages since I thought about them and it is thanks to Iliana that I came across this book.  It is a hefty graphic novel that I had to get via interlibrary loan (thanks to Fort Vancouver Regional Library for loaning it--you will soon have it safely back home again), but photobooths are such a cool concept and I can see exactly the appreciation and affection Meags Fitzgerald has for them.  Now I wish I could start a collection of photobooth photos, but they are such a rarity where I live the chance is pretty slim that it is a hobby I could pursue.  The author has an enviable collection of photos not only of herself, her family and her friends but of strangers, which were taken throughout the photobooth's long history.

The first photobooth, as we have come to know them, was designed by a Russian immigrant in 1925, whose own life story is an odyssey all its own.  Anatol Josephowitz was born in Siberia, had a most unfortunate WWI experience but eventually found his way to America where he married and spent the rest of his life.  He created the Photomaton, the first one located in NYC and it began this craze.   Eventually the rights were sold in Canada, England and Europe and the machines began popping up all over the place and by WWII everyone, rich or poor (and photobooths were a great social leveler as everyone-more or less-could afford to have a strip of four photos taken in one of the machines) were flocking to the booths to have their portraits taken.

And, of course, one good idea leads to another and one sort of machine to another.  At its most popular, the photobooth was ubiquitous and they were used not just for entertainment but for official documentation, even for mugshots and there is a darker footnote in history as they were offered for use in Europe to keep track of the identities of prisoners of war.  During the war people were apt to take their pictures as a memento for those going away to war, and for those staying behind.  By the 1950s their use began to decline without that feeling of uncertainty that comes with wars people simply didn't worry about having their pictures taken.  Prosperity in peacetime has a way of making us lax and by the 1970s disposable cameras and Polaroids had arrived on the scene.

The other problem facing photobooths was the use of chemicals to develop the images in minutes, which have been deemed to be unsafe for the environment.  Fewer and fewer companies were making the chemicals or the photopaper and innumerable photobooths were simply destroyed as a matter of progress.  I guess the machines were seen as no longer popular and were becoming obsolete.  The book was published in 2014 and the author notes certain dates (by the end of 2015 and 2016) when materials are/were likely to have run out, so I wonder what the current state of affairs has become in terms of supplies for the original chemical-bath, dip and dunk machines.  Many of the machines have been turned into digital photography booths, but for purists, it is a little sad to think the original-old fashioned photobooths are quite literally numbered.

This book is such a wonderful idea, and it is such a clever and very fitting format turning it into a graphic novel.  One of the reasons it came about was as a thank you for the people who were supporting her travels.  In order to afford to go on the extensive journeys Meags Fitzgerald undertook in order to chronicle the photobooth saga she had to come up with creative ways to earn money.  And I am so glad she did.  So the book is a mix of history, memoir and even travelogue.  Interspersed between chapters are drawings of the various styles of machines and where they are located.  So this book is quite a compendium and a wonderful resource for photobooth enthusiasts.  Fitzgerald is a true photobooth aficionado.

And to think not long ago I had the perfect opportunity to have my portrait taken in a vintage machine.  My favorite movie theater recently screened Amélie as their members select film.  If you've seen the film, you'll know the photobooth plays an important role in the movie.  They brought in a photobooth for movie-goers to take their own pictures.  It sat in the lobby for several weeks, but it was January and it was cold and I walk (and so had not been walking so much at the time) and I missed my opportunity sadly. 

There is a thriving business, however, for rental of these machines (as you see).  And if you want to find where some of the original machines live, there is an extensive website that is chock full of information on vintage photobooths.  According to the website's locator there is a mere 'one' machine in Nebraska with a permanent location.  It is in a local pub/concert venue, which means it might be interesting to try and go in and use the machine (and it is only steps away from my favorite movie theater), so maybe I'll find an opportunity to have a strip of four portraits taken sometime. 

A Ready-for-the-Weekend Mishmash

I have fallen into a reliable pattern these days with my postings and the topics I write about every day.  By the end of the week, all I can manage on a Friday are just bits and pieces of things I have come across over the course of the week, but these sorts of mindless things are kind of good for a break. 

I didn't realize there were changes being made to the Independent Foreign Fiction Prize.  It is not combined with the Man Booker International Prize and they have shared their longlist.  Unsurprisingly I have not read any of the books, but I do have a couple on my reading pile.  And yes, Elena Ferrante is there and I am Still planning on reading her this year.

Of course you will already have heard all about the Baileys Women's Prize longlist which was revealed earlier this week.  And I have not read any of those books either, but I have started reading Elizabeth Strout's My Name is Lucy Barton and I am liking it very much so far.  I ordered a few other books including Kate Atkinson's A God in Ruins.  Now I have to pull out Life after Life and give it another go, or do you think it doesn't matter if you have not read the other book?  I tried it but got caught up in the repetitiveness of the story and finally set it aside.  Maybe I didn't let myself read far enough?

And while I am only allowing one eye on the Tournament of Books, now that the books are going up against each other, I am taking more notice, if only out of curiosity.

And, hey, don't forget the Stella Prize from Australia, which I am also very curious about.  I want to read at least two books from it, if I can get my hands on them.

Wait, wait, another award list that I have to mention which I have also never followed but as I am trying to incorporate more diversity in my reading I will be going through this (extensive) list of titles for the Lambda Awards.  And I love that they are affectionately called the "Lammys"!

When I read this article in the New Yorker, it totally made me want to revamp my lost in the stacks posts!  Would anyone have any interest in them again, I wonder?

You know how often books cross paths and then all of a sudden you have a mini reading project on your hands?  I feel one coming on quite strongly.  So you know how much I enjoyed discovering James Baldwin's work?  I have had Sarah Schulman's forthcoming novel, The Cosmopolitans, on my wishlist and today I just read that it is "intended in part as a feminist response to James Baldwin's Another Country."  The plot and characters as well have been inspired by Balzac's Cousin Bette (already on my shelves).  Hmm.  Imagine how cool it would be to read the three in tandem (or close together anyway)?!

I don't really listen to music very much, but I have been introduced to some music very recently that is going to change that.  First my friend Cath so very kindly shared the music of Ludovico Einaudi with me.  I have been listening to In a Time Lapse over and over and over and I thoroughly love it.  Now I will be branching out and looking for (and listening to) more of his music.  In case you are not familiar with the composer, I read this:

"Ludovico Einaudi's album In A Time Lapse was composed over a period of two years and recorded in October 2012 in a monastery near Verona. Epic and emotional as his bestselling album Divenire, experimental and adventurous as Nightbook, In A Time Lapse goes further by incorporating baroque and Italian folk music, late romantic strings textures, and a wide variety of colors through percussion and electronics. The theme is a deep reflection on the idea of time; in the words of Einaudi, 'When you get conscious that our time is limited, it's the moment where you try to fill that space with all your energy and emotions... and live every moment of your life fully as when you were a child'."

This music and this album is so very perfect for me in a number of ways and it is thrilling to listen to.  It has been a long time since music has made me 'feel', and this is mostly calming and peaceful and passionate, too.

And then I listened to a recent podcast from On Being (if you are not familiar with this--go check it out!), Music Happens Between the Notes which is an interview with cellist Yo-Yo Ma.  Sheesh, where have I been?  I have ordered and processed CDs of his work at the library, but I had never actually listened to him.  (Must branch out more apparently).  He is a forensic musicologist and considers himself a 'citizen artist' if that helps set the tone.  He calls what he plays simply-music, preferring not to limit (categorize?) himself to classical musician, which might perhaps put some people off.  What a wonderful program and a very cool man.  He seems so very genuine and thoughtful and passionate, too, about his music.  Guess whose CDs now I will also be acquiring?  

So those are two of my great finds of late.  I have another busy weekend (and blogging may be off next week because of it), but I do hope to spend as much free time as I can squeeze in with my short story reading and then there are three books which I am thisclose to finishing so we shall see how much closer I can come by Monday!  And then, I hope to take some nice long walks and listen to my music on my MP3 player!  Have a great weekend everyone.

Cats in Literature: A Thursday Thirteen

So, it started with Liz's comment that she had made a good charity shop find, Antonia White's fictionalized story of two cats she had owned, Minka and Curdy (my copy is hopefully en route to me even as I type).  Cat's in literature.  Now that sounds like a fun Thursday Thirteen.  And so, here it is.  A little break after a couple of somewhat heavy-duty reviews of books, cats are playful and entertaining and I so so wish I still had my lovely kitties to brighten my day.  The next best thing (always the next best thing) reading a book about them instead.  My list is somewhat idiosyncratic.  A few I have read, a few others I own and even more I have on my wishlist!  They are mostly novels but there are a few nonfiction reads in the list as well.

Let me start with my own charity shop (an ex-library copy) find, Cats, edited by Hanns Reich and text by Eugene Skasa-Weiss.  The book was published in 1965 and is filled with charming and happy  (well, happy for the cats, but maybe not their prey . . .) B&W photos of our feline friends.  Photo above is taken from the book.

Gigi and the Cat by Colette -- Have you ever seen photos of Colette with her cats?  Why is it that authors seem like nature cat lovers?

Touch Not the Cat by Mary Stewart -- "After the tragic death of her father, Bryony Ashley returns from abroad to find that his estate is to become the responsibility of her cousin Emory. Ashley Court with its load of debt is no longer her worry. But there is something odd about her father's sudden death ...Bryony has inherited the Ashley 'Sight' and so has one of the Ashleys. Since childhood the two have communicated through thought patterns, though Bryony has no idea of his identity. Now she is determined to find him. But danger as well as romance wait for her in the old moated house, with its tragic memories ...".  I thoroughly enjoyed this when I read it a few years ago, and yes, there is a connection with cats!

Alice in Wonderland & Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll -- How sad, but I have yet to read this . . . "Countless scholars have tried to define the charm of the Alice books–with those wonderfully eccentric characters the Queen of Hearts, Tweedledum, and Tweedledee, the Cheshire Cat, Mock Turtle, the Mad Hatter et al.–by proclaiming that they really comprise a satire on language, a political allegory, a parody of Victorian children’s literature, even a reflection of contemporary ecclesiastical history. Perhaps, as Dodgson might have said, Alice is no more than a dream, a fairy tale about the trials and tribulations of growing up–or down, or all turned round–as seen through the expert eyes of a child."

Breakfast at Tiffanys by Truman Capote -- "In this seductive, wistful masterpiece, Truman Capote created a woman whose name has entered the American idiom and whose style is a part of the literary landscape. Holly Golightly knows that nothing bad can ever happen to you at Tiffany's; her poignancy, wit, and naïveté continue to charm."  If you've seen the movie you will know all about that famous orange marmalade cat!

The Fur Person by May Sarton -- "his enchanting story and classic of cat literature is drawn from the true adventures of Tom Jones, May Sarton’s own cat. Prior to making the author’s acquaintance, he is a fiercely independent, nameless Cat About Town. Growing tired of his vagabond lifestyle, however, he concludes that there might be some appeal in giving up his freedom for a home."

The Hotel Cat by Esther Averill -- "One wintry day a lonely stray cat wandered into the Royal Hotel. He chased mice so well that he was given the job of Hotel Cat. Tired of always spending time in the cellar Tom ventured upstairs and met the gentle Mrs. Wilkins, a longtime hotel resident who had the ability to communicate with cats. She encouraged Tom to keep an open mind about the hotel guests."

Conversations with Amber by Gladys Bagg Taber -- You might know this author for her books about her Stillmeadow books.  She also wrote a couple about her cat Amber.  She had a great love of nature and of for her animals.

Seven Lives and One Great Love by Lena Divani -- "This is the story—a love story of epic dimensions—of Sugar, a cat with a keen wit and a reflective nature, and his human, Madamigella, a writer with a frenetic and impossibly dispersive life."

The Guest Cat by Takashi Hiraide -- ". . .a subtly moving and exceptionally beautiful novel about the transient nature of life and idiosyncratic but deeply felt ways of living. A couple in their thirties live in a small rented cottage in a quiet part of Tokyo; they work at home, freelance copy-editing; they no longer have very much to say to one another. But one day a cat invites itself into their small kitchen. It leaves, but the next day comes again, and then again and again. Soon they are buying treats for the cat and enjoying talks about the animal and all its little ways."

Dorrie and the Blue Witch by Patricia Coombs -- I loved, loved, loved these Dorrie books when I was little.  Dorrie is a junior witch whose socks were always falling down, and she was always in the company of her lovely Siamese cat Dingbat.  They are an absolute delight if you ever come across them.  I wish I still had my copies.

Wish You Were Here: A Mrs. Murphy Mystery by Rita Mae Brown -- "Crozet, Virginia, is a typical small town-until its secrets explode into murder.  Crozet's thirty-something post-mistress, Mary Minor "Harry" Haristeen, has a tiger cat (Mrs. Murphy) and a Welsh Corgi (Tucker), a pending divorce, and a bad habit of reading postcards not addressed to her.  When Crozet's citizens start turning up murdered, Harry remembers that each received a card with a tombstone on the front and the message "Wish you were here" on the back.  Intent on protecting their human friend, Mrs. Murphy and Tucker begin to scent out clues."

Homer's Odyssey by Gwen Cooper -- "The last thing Gwen Cooper wanted was another cat. She already had two, not to mention a phenomenally underpaying job and a recently broken heart. Then Gwen’s veterinarian called with a story about a three-week-old eyeless kitten who’d been abandoned. It was love at first sight."

I know cat books abound.  Do you have a favorite?

When Breath Becomes Air, Paul Kalanithi

I think I have already said this about Paul Kalanithi's When Breath Becomes Air, what a beautiful memoir about a man at the very beginning of a promising career and a happy life, which ended far too soon--but sometimes it is books like this which are almost unbearably sad that act as reminders---that it takes a tragic death like Paul's to remind us how to live.  What a talented man and one who was so inquisitive and so earnest in his search for meaning and understanding and knowledge, it must have been devastating for his family to see him go through what he did.  It was at times almost devastating to read about it.  This was really an inspiring book to read and one I read with relish to be honest.  It wasn't until the very end, the epilogue written by his wife that I totally lost it and was just happy I was not reading in public because the sadness and grief was so palpably real to me.

Paul Kalanithi was just beginning his career as a neurosurgeon when he was diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer.  He had begun his university studies as a literature student and had a great love of reading and writing but he was also drawn to science.  He seemed always to be questioning just what makes a life meaningful and some of those questions could be and were answered through stories, something I know I appreciate and feel, too.  Ultimately, however, he took his studies in literature as far as they could go and felt that his skills would best serve those through science (his father and brothers had all entered the medical field).  He pursued the best of both worlds--literature which provided "a rich account of human meaning" and science and the study of the brain which "was the machinery that somehow enabled it."

"I studied literature and philosophy to understand what makes life meaningful, studied neuroscience and worked in an fMRI lab to understand how the brain could give rise to an organism capable of finding meaning in the world, and enriched my relationships with a circle of dear friends through various escapades."

He was just finishing his residency at Stanford and was likely to be able to have a pick of plum jobs, as a matter of fact they were grooming him to fill a position there as soon as he finished when he received his diagnosis.  He was married to another physician and they had plans to start a family in the near future and then their world essentially collapsed. 

What is so amazing about this book and about his life, is the inquisitive nature he had and the fact that even in his sickest days he never stopped pursuing the meaning of life.  He worked through much of his sickness and for a time the cancer receded to a point where he could live in some state of normalcy and he and his wife even had a baby when the cancer returned with a vengeance.  It had always been his intention to be a surgeon, do research and later write, but having cancer changed everything.  Finally it was down to simply writing his memoir, which he never quite got to finish, but it is a true testament to his life--and isn't that what life is: a work in progress.  We don't get to choose when it ends and even with the knowledge that he was dying he just pressed on.  A quote by Beckett became his mantra: "I can't go on.  I'll go on."

And he did go on in his search for understanding.  It's both ironic and curious that as a doctor, a neurosurgeon and someone who is looking for life's truths and hopes to heal others, that he-once the doctor-now becomes the patient.  A neurosurgeon who studies the brain and its functions and its miracles will eventually succumb to an illness that will attack the brain.

"I was searching for a vocabulary with which to make sense of death, to find a way to begin defining myself and inching forward again.  The privilege of direct experience had led me away from literary and academic work, yet now I felt that to understand my own direct experiences, I would have to translate them back into language.  Hemingway described his process in similar terms: acquiring rich experiences, then retreating to cogitate and write about them.  I need words to go forward."

I don't think his search ever ended really.  Even in his sickest moments he could see the beauty of life and the beauty of the brain and its functions.  The way he lived his life was so admirable--"if the unexamined life was not worth living, was the unlived life worth examining?"  And so he tried to do both--live a good life and search out the meaning of that life.  Something that has stuck with me, and more irony, that when someone is diagnosed with a terminal illness they think that now is the time to do all the things that you have wanted to do, all the important things that must be done now, yet all too often the person is too ill to do and appreciate them.  So a very striking reminder that life is now and it shouldn't be taken for granted, rather grabbed hold of and really lived and appreciated.  ". . . seeing death as an imposing itinerant visitor but knowing that even if I'm dying, until I actually dead, I am still living."

I think even though he died far too early, he knew how to really live.  This was such a graceful and elegant memoir and despite the sadness, it is a most worthy read. 

Black Wings Has My Angel by Elliott Chaze

What a sad, and maybe a little curious, thing that Black Lizard Books failed to reissue Elliott Chaze's Black Wings Has My Angel when they had the opportunity.  Apparently they had been planning to do so when the company was sold and the new editors "deemed it unworthy of publication."  The French certainly know their noir crime classics, as for a long time it was only available in a French translation until NYRB Classics picked it up and published it just last month.  My January subscription book was a long time coming, but once it arrived I literally inhaled the story.  So, curious to think that a publisher known for their crime classics thought it wouldn't have a readership.  I thought it highly readable, darkly entertaining and quite impressive in terms of the quality of writing.  It sounds like this might well be the best of Chaze's fiction, but if you are going to have one very good book in you, this is surely a good one to have.

"It was a perfect fit for what the publisher and I [Barry Gifford, the editor] were doing at Black Lizard, putting out books that were psychologically provocative, on the edge, and more often than not, over the edge."

In the introduction to the book, which does a great job of filling in the background of the book's publication history, Gifford compares Chaze to some well-known and equally respected crime writers--Jim Thompson, Charles Willeford, David Goodis who were all writing during the early and mid-part of the twentieth century.  Like many of that period Chaze wrote in the Hemingway-school style of fiction--getting down to the essence of the story, and the storytelling is anything but frivolous.  It's direct, clean, prose and it suits the sort of story this is.  The storyteller, a criminal with little to lose and not much sympathy for anyone but himself, doesn't need any embellishments as he explains how he almost got away with the perfect crime. 

Even though this is a rather dark tale and both protagonists are about as immoral (or amoral) as they come, they are not necessarily unlikable.  They are curious and interesting to watch and read about and you almost want them to get away with the sordid plan they have hatched.  Actually neither quite trusts the other.  Maybe they are just too much alike, but despite their distrust of each other they are nonetheless attracted to and maybe even a little in love with the other, at least as much as either is capable. 

Tim Sunblade is a recent escapee from the state penitentiary who has managed to evade notice and work on a drilling rig in order to make a little money.  Cash in his pockets and time on his hands, he arranges for a little female companionship which comes in the form of Virginia who he christens a "ten-dollar-tramp", but she'll turn out to be worth her weight in gold.  The problem is trust, of which he has very little (with good reason) when it comes to this elegant hell-cat.

"Her eyes were lavender-gray and her hair was light creamy gold and springy-looking, hugging her head in curves rather than absolute curls.  She wore a navy-blue beret of the kind you associate with European movies."

Tramp or not there is more to Virginia than meets the eye, and she's surely worth a whole lot more than a mere $10 even by 1950s standards.  Her past is as checkered as Tim's and neither is willing to own up to the truth of their own past.  It's as if they eye each other warily, size the other up, know the other's number and see each is as corrupt and jaded and is willing to let whatever messy past stay hidden and secret.  For now at least.  For now each needs the other, but trust is shallow at best.

The thing with this pair is they each value money just a little too much and they see in the other a willing compatriot in what might well be the perfect crime.  Robbing a bank truck, quick and easy and a big pay off, but in order for it to work, there must be two people working in tandem.  Tim was the recipient of the plan while he was incarcerated and before his fellow prison-mate decided to take a quick exit from life.  But Tim has gone over every detail, worked out how it must go to work and what might happen to create a snag.  If they just stick to the plan closely, it will work like a charm and they'll never have to worry about money again.

Tim and Virginia are equally matched when it comes to brains and a complete lack of fear.  They both also come from the school of hard knocks and trust the other not at all.  They share a passion--for money--and sometimes for each other.  But it is a love-hate sort of relationship.  They think nothing of getting rid of the other should the need arise, or of absconding with the cash.  You know from almost the get-go how things will turn out, but how it all unravels is, of course, the great pleasure in reading this book.  If you like your crime fiction dark and dirty and very, very well done, you should give Elliott Chaze's Black Wings Has My Angel a go.  Definitely noir fiction at its best.

I'm reading the February NYRB Classic now, More Was Lost: A Memoir by Eleanor Perenyi, which is as charming as the Chaze was dark.  And once again, I am watching my mailbox for the March book, which is a newly published novel by Patrick Modiano.

Ready for the End of Winter

Almost there!  I am ready for spring--weatherwise and stitchingwise!  The snowman without a face is looking a little ghostly, don't you think?

This week's mini book pile.  A couple of (very likely) "Irish" reads for March.  Will perhaps start with the William Trevor novel.  Graham Greene is an April (though should start earlier really) read for the "1938 Club".  And I just really want to read the Simon Mawer.  I have read him before and liked him very much and I think I need to revamp my (for summer maybe?) Season of Spies reading.  Such hopeful plans always and foiled by a general lack of reading time.

Do you know what tomorrow is?  Aside from Tuesday, of course?  The longlist for the Baileys Women's Prize for Fiction will be announced?  I have heard the list will be revealed at midnight (how kind of the UK to be so many hours ahead of us, so if that is indeed the case I won't have to stay up late to find out who made the list).  I am not sure who I want to be on it.  I have Lauren Groff's new book as well as Elizabeth Strout's.  I have seen the new Anna Hope mentioned (and it is sitting even now on my night stand).  It is always interesting to see who makes it and usually there will be a few new-to-me books to explore.  Any favorites or predictions?

Not, of course, that I don't already have Plenty to read.  (See above photo, ahem).  But I can't help but get excited!