Th Reading Lair

Archive for April, 2010

  • A Little Bit of DIVA

    Friday, April 30th, 2010

    My writing group, the Word DIVAs, enjoyed a creative venture this week, or rather, a creative culmination. We normally work on our own individual projects, connecting together online to provide critiques, and then in person to share successes (with the occasional weekend away to write, drink wine, and laugh at ourselves). But this time we thought we’d try a group project—the first in a series of articles for one of our local newspapers, the Atascadero News.

    Unfortunately I can’t link you straight to our contribution (you have to be a subscriber), but a word to the locals: You should pick up the weekend paper and browse on through the business section. We consume a whole page. (Title? “Helping Atascadero Thrive: A Community Responsibility.”) Plus, there’s a nice little note about what fascinating authors we are :-P .

    So I’m posting this to simply say, “YAY, Word DIVAs! I love you, ladies!”

    Yeah. That is all.

    Have a marvelous weekend.

    Oh, and our website is worddivas.com. So clickety-click to visit THAT little piece of sweetness.

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    What’s the mood noise of the moment?  Eisley:  Memories

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    Posted in A bit of brag | 15 Comments »

  • Rate the Trailer: Trash or Treasure?

    Monday, April 26th, 2010

    So I thought we’d start the week out on an entertaining note–as in “let’s rate some more book trailers”–entertaining. Yep. We’re pretty rowdy around here. I can almost see us swinging from the chandeliers. (Please notice I said “almost,” because, truth be told, mine wouldn’t hold our combined weight and that would end up traumatizing all innocent bystanders.)

    So how about it?

    Watch. Rate. Then share your reasons.

    And please pay attention to our new scoring system, people. It’s here for your safety. Rating goes from one to five–one being, “Don’t ever show me that again or I’ll scratch my eyes out while simultaneously doing the Macarena”; five being, “That was so überly fantastic I will freely throw gobs of money at you and wash your wood floors for a week.”

    Five is the preferred, obviously.

    Ready? Go.

    Oh, a side note for some of my reading friendlies with slow internet: If an error message occurs on the video, just click the youtube sign and it will take you there to view the trailer. Sometimes that works.

    Maggie Stiefvater’s  “Shiver”

     

    Seth Grahame-Smith’s  “Abraham Lincoln:  Vampire Hunter”

     

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    Posted in Book Trailers, Games, Undead Leeches | 15 Comments »

  • A Recipe for French Onion Soup

    Monday, April 19th, 2010

    If the whole Cooking with Dog affair didn’t incite your jealousy as to my family’s culinary awesomeness, you need to try this French Onion Soup recipe. It seriously could be to die for (or at least worth drawing first blood in a hand-to-hand spork fight).

    This is my Father-in-law’s recipe, and I made it TWICE last week while reading through Charlotte Brontё’s “The Professor.” The book was excellent, by the way. My favorite parts being Mr. Crimsworth’s thoughts on Pelet’s mother:  “She had been handsome, at least she told me so and I strove to believe her,” followed straight up by his horror and fear that she had perhaps invited him to afternoon tea in an effort to “make love” to him. Both brought sick fits of laughter to my disturbed mind.

    Anyhow, here you go. Enjoy. And I should mention that I “accidentally” doubled the wine upon both attempts to make it. It was glorious.

    Oh, and you’re not off the hook yet, my reading friendly. You know the drill—before giving it a look over, tell me the best and worst of your weekend. ;-)

     

    My Father-in-law’s French Onion Soup

    Serves 6

    • 2 tbsp. olive oil
    • 2 tbsp. butter
    • 2 Ib. 8 oz. large yellow onions, halved and sliced into half-circles about 3/8″ thick
    • 6 large garlic cloves, whole (or more if you love garlic)
    • 4 tbsp. all-purpose flour
    • 4 oz dry white wine
    • 8 cups beef stock
    • 2 cups chopped mushrooms, large bite sized (mixed porcini, portabella, morel, shiitake, oyster)
    • 1-1/2 oz. Brandy
    • 6 slices Sour Dough bread sliced 1-1/2″ thick
    • 7oz. Pecorino cheese, grated (I used parmesan and gouda)
    • Salt and fresh ground pepper to taste

    Melt the butter with the oil in a large heavy-based saucepan (cast iron is preferable) over medium heat. Add the onions with the garlic and cook, covered, for 10-12 minutes until they soften, stirring occasionally (don’t let them burn). Sprinkle with salt and fresh ground pepper. Don’t overdo the salt if the beef stock is salty.

    Reduce the heat a little and continue cooking uncovered for at least 30-35 minutes, or until the onions turn a deep, golden brown, stirring as necessary to keep from burning until they start to color, then stirring more frequently and scraping the bottom of the pan as they begin to stick. Squish some of the soft garlic cloves against the side of the pot and stir in, save a few whole garlic cloves as soup bowl surprises for your garlic lovers.

    HEY! You can’t rush this soup as the rich flavor comes from the onions simmering slowly so their natural sugar caramelizes before melding with the stock and mushrooms.

    Sprinkle the flour over onion / garlic mixture and stir well to blend. Stir in the white wine and bubble for 1 minute. Pour in the stock and add mushrooms and bring to a boil, scraping the bottom of the pan and stirring to combine well. Reduce the heat to low, add the brandy and simmer gently, stirring occasionally, for at least 45 minutes.

    Toast the bread under a preheated hot broiler on one side. Turn over and top with the cheese, dividing it evenly. Broil until the cheese melts. You want the bread to be crisp!

    Place a piece of cheese toast in each of the 6 warmed bowls, then ladle the hot soup over. Serve immediately.

    What’s the mood noise of the moment?  Coralie Clément:  Bientôt

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    Posted in Reading Recipes | 12 Comments »

  • The Sea Wolf (a guest review)

    Thursday, April 15th, 2010

    James Silva is one of the smartest people I know. Literally. (So is his wife, come to think of it.) He’s one of those guys you start talking with at a random get-together and about half-way through the conversation suddenly realize (1) he is far better read than you, (2) he knows more than you, and (3) he thinks deeper, more original thoughts than you. And just when you’re starting to wonder whether you should feel intimidated or in awe, he says something perfectly comical that makes you laugh and like him all the more. Which pretty much sums up where our friendship hangs. I like him. He’s smarter than me. And I’m okay with that. And today he’s giving a guest review of Jack London’s “The Sea Wolf” (which is a marvelous favor because I’m pretty sure he’d rather be doing other intelligent things besides writing out his deep thoughts for my blog). Hope you enjoy.

    I just finished reading maybe the best coming of age tale I have ever read: The Sea Wolf by Jack London. On the surface it seems difficult to call it that, because our main character Humphrey “Sissy” Van Weyden is 35 years old and a very successful literary critic. I put it into this category, however, because the story is of a boy becoming a man, which is something that can really happen any time after about 13 years old.

    It’s a unique phenomenon when a male becomes a man so late in life–probably because if he never truly became a man when most do, he likely never will. He certainly won’t seek out someone to father him like his own father failed to do, and if one such person appears on the scene he will likely avoid the man in a mechanism of defense. But in Humphrey’s case, he has no choice in the matter, he has been picked up at sea and pressed into service by the most cruel and unusual father-figure ever, in the man of Wolf Larsen. Wolf is by no means the perfect father, but he is, I think, the father that Humphrey needs–making him work hard and “earn his bread” for the first time in his life. Exactly what was sorely lacking in young Humphrey’s life. His true father–no doubt under the guise of love–didn’t push Humphrey to overcome his own limiting beliefs about his capabilities, thus these beliefs trapped him.

    It is during his time on the ship, the “Ghost,” that Humphrey is pushed to learn that sometimes physical aggression is necessary, while not denying the other side of masculinity, which, I think he understood before his voyage on the Ghost–the tender side of the male spirit, in it residing an awareness that Beauty can nourish one’s soul. Some discover such Beauty in music, some in art, or poetry or nature. Where one finds it is not important, it is only important that one does find it, and let it speak truth to them in a way that cold logic never can. So it is this balance of lover and fighter that Humphrey is learning. He learns to stand up to Captain Larsen and does so on a few occasions, although it could cost him his life, but we also see that when he meets “her” the tenderness has not been driven from him by his harsh living conditions.

    The “her” in question being Maud Brewster, a poet Humphrey has much admired for a long time. Now that he has a heart truly alive in place of the hard lump of flesh that for so long occupied that space in his chest, he is able to know experientially what one might imagine the biblical Adam knew the moment he saw his Eve–that this creature, like him in some regards, yet complimentary in so many others, could add to his life in a way that no male companionship or platonic female familiarity ever could. Not only that, but now he has something to offer her–strength. Not a strength that would dominate her but would come along side her and take her to places that she may never go by herself. It is this strength and courage that they will need as they jump ship together to face the open sea in a maneuver no less daring than Edmone Dantes quitting the Chateu D’If in the Count of Monte Cristo. And it is here that he proves himself equal to the task of being a man.

    I would say that overall Humphrey Van Weyden gives us a great example of what it looks like for a man to take the journey toward true masculinity, and in an age when proper fathering and thus real manhood is in short supply we would do well to learn by his example.

    Mary’s questions for the friendlies:  Have you ever read this Jack London book? Do you have another favorite of his? And isn’t the name “Wolf Larsen” fantastically cool?

    What’s the mood noise of the moment?  THE HONEY TREES in studio:  Wake the Earth

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    Posted in Book Reviews, Literary Classics | 8 Comments »

  • An Idiot's Guide to Dostoyevsky

    Friday, April 9th, 2010

    My husband spoiled me on our anniversary this week by arriving home with multiple gifts in hand: A new cell phone, a lovely outfit, and the book “The Idiot.” Okay . . . admittedly, with a title like that, a lesser woman might have commenced with a petard hoisting (and rightly so), but not me. I’ll say this much for him–the man knows his way to a nerd-girl’s heart.

    Mainly, through Dostoyevsky.

    What is it about that literary genius I so lionize? Well . . . hmm. I guess there’s the fact that Dostoyevsky was an ACTUAL literary genius. There’s also the tidbit where he’s often considered the founder of existentialism (something which fascinates me to no end). Oh, and let’s not forget Dostoyevsky as hands-down one of THE supreme literary psychologists of all time (reference “Notes from Underground”).

    And then we come to that sweeeeeeeet fact of life where by simply dropping Dostoevsky’s name we get to sound oh-so-intelligent amidst large gatherings of snooty / witty / yuppy / half-drunk people.

    “Dostoyevsky.”

    See. Didn’t that up your opinion of my mental faculties at least a half-point? Take notes on this because, for some of you, it could mean the difference between having Friday night dinner with your mother, or with that hot wedge of intellect over in the next cubicle who unfairly thinks you have a few marbles missing.

    So here’s my offering—a brief run-down of Dostoyevsky details—in hopes your weekend turns out AWESOME ***said in a high-pitched sing-song voice***. Don’t say I never did anything for you.

    Ahem. I begin.

    Born in Russia in 1821 as the second of six children, Dostoevsky grew up among the angst-soaked faces of the poor and dissolute. He lived in the hospital where his father worked as a physician in a community littered with delinquency, orphans, a cemetery (specifically for criminals) and an insane asylum. (Sound like any of his books?)

    Dostoyevsky attended the Academy of Military Engineering, after which, he earned the status of lieutenant and served in the army. During Dostoyevsky’s time in school (1839 to be exact) his alcoholic father died. Rumors abound as to the cause–one of which suggests that Daddy D.’s serfs went all Karamazov on him by drowning him in vodka. It wasn’t until after Dostoyevsky resigned his military commission that he earned his first literary success–the book “Poor Folk” at the age of 24.

    Following a brief period involving a socialist group called the Petrashevsky Circle (here’s a random crumb that’s great for cocktail gossip: Petrashevsky once attended church wearing woman’s clothing), Dostoyevsky was sent to a mock firing squad and then to a Siberian prison camp for four years (see “Crime and Punishment,” “The House of The Dead,” and “The Insulted and Injured”).

    Although he achieved enormous success as a living author (versus a dead one–a significant feat that :-) ), Dostoyevsky spent his later years plagued by severe poverty due to tremendous business and gambling debts and a strong conviction to provide financially for his step-son and his dead brother’s family. It appears he worked like a speed demon on the latter parts of “Crime and Punishment,” while also working on “The Gambler,” in order to sell both and pay his debts.

    Dostoyevsky suffered from epilepsy (influencing characters in “The Idiot” and “The Brothers Karamazov”) and a gambling addiction. He was a playwright (“Mary Stuart,” “Boris Godunov”), a journalist, and a Russian Orthodox Christian (“The Peasant Marey”).

    And last (but never least), there really was a Katerina Ivanovna (my favorite, as you well know—see Dostoevsky and His Women). Apollinaria Suslova. He used her as a model for both of his Katerina Ivanovnas (one appearing in “Crime and Punishment,” the other in “The Brothers Karamazov”).

    Dostoyevsky died in February of 1881 (from a lung hemorrhage), having written an assortment of books bearing such depth that people like you and I read only one, and then brag about it for the rest of our lives.

    All right, my reading friendlies. There you have it: your very own easy access Idiot’s Guide to Dostoyevsky.

    So . . . my question of the day? Is there a particular Dostoyevsky novel that you (a) prefer, (b) have always wanted to read, or (c) have never read but use to impress the ladies (or gents) with? Tell the truth.

    What’s the mood noise of the moment?  Demon Hunter:  My Heartstrings Come Undone

    For further Dostoyevsky info (or to access that cool picture of him up there) you can go here, here, or here.

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    Posted in Author Tidbits, Best & Worst Books, Book Reviews, Dostoevsky, Literary Classics | 14 Comments »

  • A Recipe for Italian Soda

    Monday, April 5th, 2010

    Try a splash of spring for your drinking pleasure?

    It’s the nectar of the non-alcoholic reading gods, or so I’ve heard (although I still equate that honor with my beautiful raspberry latte).

    Soda water, flavored syrup, ice, and whipped cream—meet luscious Italian Soda.

    I’m drinking one right now and reading “Howl’s Moving Castle.”

    Raspberry, Black Cherry, Creamsicle . . .  Go ahead. Indulge your afternoon away. And while you’re at it, do you mind if I ask what your favorite thing about spring is?

     

    The recipe for an Italian Soda

    1. A glass full of ice (make it a pretty glass, mind you)
    2. 8 oz. soda water
    3. 4 Tab. flavored syrup of your choice (I usually use the Torani brand syrups)
    4. Mix it up and add a swirl of whipped cream to the top.
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    What’s the mood noise of the moment?  Sigur Ros:  Hoppipolla

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    Posted in Reading Recipes | 11 Comments »

  • A Review of "The Swan Thieves"

    Thursday, April 1st, 2010

    Let’s just say that it took me a LONG few weeks to get through Elizabeth Kostova’s “The Swan Thieves.” Which makes me sad. I wanted to adore it in every way, just as I had my copy of “The Historian” (which technically wasn’t mine—I might have “accidentally” borrowed/never returned it).

    Alas, I didn’t adore. I barely made it through.

    Eccentric painter, Robert Oliver, strolls into the National Gallery of Art with a knife one morning and attempts to deface a 19th century painting. Afterwards, he refuses to speak of it—or to speak at all, for that matter—beyond an intriguing admission that he did it “for her.” This leaves our main narrator, Andrew Marlow (Oliver’s psychiatrist), at a loss to help him other than through some old fashioned detective work, picking up and following the clues from Oliver’s life in the various forms of a wounded wife, red-headed lover, recurring paintings of a dark-haired woman, and a packet of 130-year-old love letters written between painter Beatrice de Clerval and her husband’s uncle, Olivier Vignot.

    The mystery? Which of these ladies is the “her” Oliver willingly pulled a knife next to an art gallery security guard for, and why?

    In essence, “The Swan Thieves” is a story about obsession, or perhaps more accurately, possession, and the insatiable craving within all of us to master both truth and beauty. Yet, as is often the case, when surrendered to, such pursuit comes at the cost of scratching an ungainly chunk out of said truth and beauty. With this discernment, Ms. Kostova guides us into the manic depressions and fixations of the many, inimitably eccentric characters, and perceptions, which populate the art world. Her exquisite descriptions demand we experience firsthand the oily scent on a painter’s hands, the seductive landscapes, the polar swings between the loneliness and rampant passion of the unhinged heart, wherein one man’s obsession causes him to lose near everything, and another man’s leads him toward love and elucidation. 

    What I liked:

    1. The plot. Truly fabulous.
    2. The near-tangible exploration into the world of art.
    3. The book’s cover.
    4. Ms. Kostova’s literary nod to Joseph Conrad.
    5. Her fantastic descriptions.

    What annoyed me:

    1. The passive voicing. What worked well in the old fashioned, British flavored “The Historian,” did NOT in this modern tome.
    2. The excruciating attention to detail. While the observations are lovely, after a while I just couldn’t care anymore about Marlow noticing where the tree stood in the yard while he held the phone to his ear waiting for the receptionist–who might possibly be wearing his grandmother’s type of clothing–to go see if the man whom Marlow needed for one tiny piece of info was available to come and talk on the phone while Marlow contemplated eating that sandwich which had all the delicious things he liked on it. Also, I wanted to skip past most of the introductions and goodbyes in EVERY scene. Hello. Hello. Goodbye. Goodbye. (Okay, so I might be exaggerating, but . . . no, I’m not.)
    3. The lack of variance in speaking voices. All the main people all sound the same, all the time.
    4. The male protagonist’s voice. I repeatedly had to remind myself that Marlow was actually a man (versus a woman).
    5. The second chapter (all backstory).
    6. The fact that it was 561 pages long.
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    What’s the mood noise of the moment?  Paramore:  Brick by Boring Brick

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    Posted in Best & Worst Books, Book Reviews | 17 Comments »

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