Book Round-Up

 The Baseball 100 by Joe Posnanski: I got this from the library at the start of baseball season, and then spent two months reading it. Not a criticism! Its structure -- 100 essays about some of the greatest baseball players ever -- meant it wasn't a conventional page-turner, but I enjoyed learning about the players, many of whom I knew by name only. A good number were players from the Negro Leagues, too; Posnanski made it clear how much of baseball is entwined with racism, even today.

The Devil at his Elbow by Valerie Bauerlein: I don't read much nonfiction, but this was captivating. The many, many crimes of Alex Murdaugh have been well publicized, but Bauerlein goes into his family history, too, back to his great grandfather. The family business was ostensibly law, but the ethical lapses, conflicts of interest, and sheer corruption going back over a hundred years are appalling. Murdaugh is not an outlier, but the end point of a family that put its own tawdry interests above justice.

The Woman in the Library by Sulari Gentill: I thought I was getting a library-centered mystery, but the titular library (the Boston Public Library) barely factored into the story. Instead, I got a mystery that served as a commentary on the genre itself -- chapters of the story alternate with letters from a purported reader who offers advice on the choices Gentill makes. My favorite bit: I finished a chapter wondering why the heck [character] was continuing to communicate with [deeply troubled person] and whether that reflected poorly on the novel as a whole. The very next page was a letter from the FBI thanking [character] for alerting them and asking [character] to continue talking with [deeply troubled person] while the agency investigated. I laughed out loud. Gentill knows what she is doing!

The Lost Bookshop by Evie Woods: A disappointment. The novel weaves together the story of three characters, including one who runs the titular bookshop. Her story was the weakest, because it covered covered four decades and crammed in too many plot points, neglecting the one that would have been the most interesting -- the magical bookshop. The other two story lines were more interesting, but again too little time was spent on the bookshop.

Midnight Riot by Ben Aaronovitch: this was suggested as an alternative to the sexist Dresden Files urban fantasy series, and I loved it. Peter Grant is a young police officer in London who unwittingly interviews a ghost and learns there is a hidden aspect of the city filled with wizards, vampires, and gods. Aaronovitch weaves a lot of British folklore into the story, which was fascinating, and balanced the more horrific parts with a good amount of humor. I can't wait to read the rest.

The Flatshare by Beth O'Leary: a cute romance about two people with opposite schedules who share a one-bedroom apartment. It's an epistolary novel of sorts, because the relationship between protagonists initially develops over a series of post-it notes and text messages. I also appreciated how the female protagonist came to terms with the abusive nature of her previous relationship -- in fits and starts, with the help of counseling, introspection, and friends, rather than because of some kind of dramatic epiphany.

A Little Mending

A favorite pair of jeans started showing signs of wear by the left front pocket (probably because of my phone), so i did some visible mending using sashiko and boro techniques:

I'm kinda hoping more holes and worn spots develop, so I can add more patches.

Cat-Themed Bookmarks

 These magnetic bookmarks are from a cute pattern from Craftapalooza. 

I used interfacing scraps which were a bit stiffer than what was called for, which added  to the bulk a bit. I plan on making more with a lighter interfacing, maybe fall-themed. They'd make a good gift, too!

Memory & Dream by Charles de Lint

 This is the second novel in de Lint's Newford series, and a re-read for me. It's a fascinating concept -- especially talented artists are able to use their paintings to open a gateway to another world, inviting in fairy-like beings -- and as always I appreciate the urban fantasy setting and his commitment to both art and social justice.

However, his protagonist, Isabelle, was a frustrating character who made a lot of bad decisions for almost the entirety of the novel. Some of it is, understandably, a function of the abusive relationships she has been subject to; they do a number on both her self esteem and her understanding of what's normal. But her actions are also the result of her own selfishness and obsession with art; she is willing to overlook or justify all manner of bad acts committed by Rushkin because of his artistic talent. It's one thing to separate the artist from the art, a topic that is especially relevant today. It's another to let the artist get away with murder because he's fascinating.

Late in the novel we meet another painter who serves as a marked contrast to Isabelle; I wish we could have spent more time with her.

Book Round-Up

 A Death in Cornwall by Daniel Silva: My first Silva novel, recommended to me by my husband because the protagonist has retired from spying to become an art restorer. It was fine, but the descriptions of how beautiful and wealthy every character was got tedious. I'm starting to believe there is an inverse correlation between how much time is spent on what the characters look like and the quality of the book.

All Systems Red by Martha Wells: This satirical sci-fi novella was utterly delightful. Murderbot was just so much fun to read about, and I actually teared up at the very end. I can't wait to read the rest.

Back After This by Linda Holmes: This wasn't my favorite of her novels (the podcast industry setting wasn't my thing), but I continue to love the wit of Holmes's writing, and the fact that her characters act like grown-ups.

The Sorceror's House by Gene Wolfe: My first Gene Wolfe was kind of a disappointment. I liked the structure (epistolary) and there were some neat ideas and intriguing motifs, but the attitudes of the characters were straight out the 1970s and 1980s, despite the novel ostensibly taking place in 2000s.

Orlando: a Biography by Virginia Woolf

 There is a certain pleasure in rereading a favorite book, in experiencing again its pleasures and in finding new ones. It can be especially worthwhile to reread a book when one is in a different stage of life.

I first read Orlando in college. I enjoyed it and admired it, but I didn't get much out of it other than the story itself and the commentary on the limitations historically placed on women. Rereading it 30+ years later -- wiser and more experienced, with a more nuanced understanding of the messiness of life -- was a different experience entirely. For one thing, I don't think I appreciated just how funny it is. The satire of not just gender norms but poets, publishing, and British history and culture is sharp, sometimes brutally so. Woolf has a keen eye for absurdity, as befitting a gifted writer who not only struggled with gender and heteronormative expectations but also the deeply flawed people she loved and with her own mental health.  In this way the novel is strikingly modern, even though it is almost one hundred years old.

It's a postmodern novel too, purporting to be a traditional biography of Orlando, with a narrator who refuses to record some events because they are allegedly too distressing for the reader (such as Orlando's transformation from male to female, or her pregnancy), but seemingly accepts without question her subject's centuries-long life. Woolf includes portraits of real-life aristocrats as illustrations of her fictional characters, adding an element of playfulness. Moreover, each section of the book corresponds to a particular time period of English history, with heightened descriptions to match. The Frost Fair of 1608 is depicted with a cold beauty and startling details, such as the woman sitting with a lapful of apples for sale frozen at the bottom of the Thames and perfectly visible through the crystal-clear ice. Victorian England, by contrast, is pervaded with damp, resulting in lush, overabundant growth; so of course this is when Orlando gets pregnant.

But most of all, this novel is a love letter to Woolf's friend and lover, Vita Sackville-West, who inspired the character Orlando. Without the benefit of Wikipedia to educate me about Woolf's life, and reading this on my own rather than with a professor who could point me in certain directions, I completely missed this the first time around. This knowledge makes for a poignant read, because Orlando is very much an idealized (but not perfect) version of Sackville-West, without her selfishness and unfaithfulness, who finds true love in Shelmerdine (who was once a woman, and who is as unconventional as Orlando is). 

I'm so glad I reread this.

Egg Hunt

 Done! 

I’ve been working on Satsuma Street’s Egg Hunt since the pandemic, but only for a couple of weeks around Easter each year. This year when I pulled it out I saw how close I was to finishing, so I made a big push to do it. Now I just need to find a nice frame for it.