Tag Archives: Reading

A Reading List a Mile Long: Bas Bleu Autumn 2012 Edition

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The temperature remains high, at least where I live, but autumn is sneaking around the corner. Although I find scant joy in the companions of cold weather-believing that you should visit ice and snow if the fancy strikes, and not the other way around-there are some compensations that arrive with this particular changing of the seasons, among them: hot mulled cider, hot chocolate, gingerbread cake, holiday cookies, ice skating, scarves, boots, crackling fires, the ability to watch Miracle on 34th Street ten times without being judged (too harshly), silly parades, a changing landscape and, of course, the built-in excuse to hunker down and read as many books as possible. That last one is the best. The Autumn 2012 edition of Bas Bleu is crammed with enough delicious books and literary-related goodies to last the next two seasons. Check out my jumble bag of favourites below, complete with handy links. Continue reading →

I’m Reading a Dirty Book (and, no, it’s not Fifty Shades of… Anything)

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I’m reading a dirty book and, no, it’s not Fifty Shades of…Anything. It’s worse. I picked it up last week at the dollar store. During check-out I hid it in the middle of a pile of cleaning supplies, but the cashier wasn’t fooled: she gave me side eye. Owning it makes me blush. I would never, ever be seen in public with it under my arm or nose. We’re friends, though, right? Right? Okay, good. I’m a bit shy about this sensitive subject, so I am going to divulge my secret in a photograph. Deep breath. Here it is: Continue reading →

A Bunch of Books I’m Glad I Didn’t Write

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A bunch of books I’m glad I didn’t write, courtesy of AbeBooks.com’s Weird Book Room.

  1. The Art of Painting Animals on Rocks by Linn Wellford- I’m pretty sure my Aunt Lauree owned this book. She definitely painted animals on rocks. It was a strange time.
  2. How You Can Bowl Better Using Self-Hypnosis-File this under: things I will never do, two.
  3. Whose Bottom is This? A Lift-the-Flap Book-Very educational, no doubt.
  4. A Lust for Window Sills by Harry Mount-Wasn’t this featured on an episode of Taboo?
  5. All About Scabs by Genichiro Yagyu-Everything you ever wanted to know, in one handy volume.
  6. A Cow is Too Much Trouble in Los Angeles by Joseph Foster-Sometimes you just have to learn things the hard way.

Plus, two I wish I had:

  1. Boy George Fashion and Make-up Book by Wayne Winder-Why the hell not? This is still relevant, right?
  2. Liberace: Your Personal Fashion Consultant by Michael and Karan Feder-If you really want to shine. I would die happy if this book was on my resume.

 

The Dead Writers Round-Up: 25th-28th August

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  • Bret Harte was born on 8/25/1836. “A bird in hand is a certainty. But a bird in the bush may sing.”
  • Truman Capote died on 8/25/1984. “A conversation is a dialogue, not a monologue. That’s why there are so few good conversations: due to scarcity, two intelligent talkers seldom meet.”
  • Zona Gale was born on 8/26/1874. “The world consists almost exclusively of people who are one sort and behave like another sort.”
  • Christopher Isherwood was born on 8/26/1904. “One should never write down or up to people, but out of yourself.”
  • Theodore Dreiser was born on 8/27/1871. “In order to have wisdom we must have ignorance.”
  • Ivy Compton-Burnett died on 8/27/1969. “People who have power respond simply. They have no minds but their own.”
  • Johann Wolfgang von Goethe was born on 8/28/1749. “Dream no small dreams for they have no power to move the hearts of men.”
  • Robertson Davies was born on 8/28/1913. “The eye sees only what the mind is prepared to comprehend.”

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[All images are in the Public Domain and are courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.]

 

[Intermezzo] Five Minutes

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After I fall in love with a book, whether it happens with the opening sentence or mid-way through chapter five, in an effort to finish it I operate at one of two speeds: molasses-slow or maniacally fast. The process is involuntary, organic: I don’t choose the rate, it chooses me. Whether I’m pulling apart paragraphs sentence by sentence, and sentences word by word, or running through chapters to the rhythm of a hummingbird’s beating wings, one thing is true: I’m savoring every moment, every thought, every element. The paths are different, but the enjoyment is similarly intense.

Reading is ritualistic, with individual ceremonies developing around each book: fugitive but nourishing, their ordered peculiarities decorate the mosaic of my days. Continue reading →

[19 August 2012] This Week’s Lessons in Reading and Writing

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What I’ve (re)learned in the last week.

  • The rush that comes with writing fiction is like nothing else in the world. It feels entirely different from writing reviews or essays; not better, just different.
  • Liking writers, artists or performers is one thing. Enjoying fictionalized accounts of their lives is another. Some of these books are wonderful; others are boring or just plain bad. I am currently reading one of the former and one of the middle. The disparity in levels of enjoyment is huge.
  • Outlining an entire story and writing the opening 3 paragraphs in your head whilst still in bed is the best way to start a day.
  • I feel sexiest while tapping away at my keyboard, trying to bang out everything that is in my head before it dissolves into nothingness. Even though I am usually wearing yoga pants, a tee, too much moisturizer and a baker’s dozen of hairpins.
  • Taking five books and three magazines (and my Nook) on a road trip lasting 60 hours, start to finish, somehow does not seem excessive.
  • The WordPress community is just that: a community of supportive, wonderful, mostly awesome people. Some of them even allow you to write short stories based on their photographs. Thank you, lovelies.
  • Even when crazy shit happens (like this), reading a book makes it better.