Author: Jaclyn

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It’s Monday! What Are You Reading? (December 9, 2019)

Here we go, new week.  I’m starting it off really tired.  Last week was draining – between travel for Steve on the same day that I had a lengthy court appearance (necessitating a backup to the backup plan for picking up the kids from school) and a potential development at the end of the week that would be really exciting – but is currently uncertain – I have not been able to sleep much at all and I’m exhausted and jumpy.  Saturday was a wild pendulum of ups and downs – a kiddo birthday party with Nugget’s class, and a highly satisfactory library book sale haul (including three British Library Crime Classics) on the up side, and an upsetting email from the school and lots of self-doubt on the down.  In the evening, Steve and I went to my office holiday party and had a completely decent time, so that’s another up.

On Sunday we packed up snacks and drove out to Little Washington (also known as Washington, Virginia – a tiny postage stamp-sized town a little more than an hour outside of D.C.) for the annual Christmas in Little Washington parade and market.  It’s one of our favorite holiday traditions and we’ve been able to make it happen almost every year.  This was a good one; the kids collected a respectable pile of candy and saw Santa riding in a white convertible.  I mused to Steve that Peanut and Nugget are growing up with parade memories that are basically the polar opposite of my own childhood parade experiences.  My family used to attend the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade in Manhattan every year, and we also went to the Santa Barbara Fiesta parade – both massive, crowded extravaganzas.  These two will remember small-town parades and scrambling to pick up mini candy canes tossed by the local Girl Scouts.  Just as good – but so different.  It was a nice day, and I needed it to calm my racing mind after last week.

Books.  Kind of a slow reading week.  I’ve found it hard to focus on a book, especially toward the end of the week.  Reading is usually my escape, but recently it’s been hard to get into that frame of mind – even when I know it will help – if I am overwhelmed and anxious, which I have been for various reasons all week.  I finished up Not That It Matters on Tuesday, but then wasn’t able to really settle in and read for more than a few minutes here and there all week, which explains why I am still only about halfway through A Fatal Grace.  I am enjoying it (although why does Louise Penny feel compelled to comment on each character’s body type? it’s distracting and unnecessary) and hoping for a more laid-back week ahead so I can concentrate on reading again.

Watching.  The Little Washington Christmas parade, of course!  And the original How the Grinch Stole Christmas – the kids’ first viewing.  I found it on YouTube; they were transfixed.  Steve and I snuck in a few episodes of The Great British Bake-Off over the course of the week, and we also enjoyed a highly amusing spectacle on Saturday night – my co-workers engaged in a spirited game of disco musical chairs.  That’s something you don’t see every day.

Listening.  Just podcasts, here and there.  I listened to The Mom Hour‘s series on holiday memories, which was lovely.  And a few different holiday book recommendation shows – Book Riot, What Should I Read Next?, and The Read-Aloud Revival.

Making.  Again, nothing much.  I took butter out of the fridge a few times, intending to bake vanillekipfurl (traditional Austrian vanilla-almond crescent cookies) but never made it happen.  Next weekend I have big plans to bake up a few batches of Christmas cookies to share at work.

Blogging.  I have a fun week ahead for you.  On Wednesday, Elizabeth von Arnim on Christmas preparations (and the fun of shirking your duty) and on Friday, the rest of the snaps from that epic lion yawn I caught on camera.  Check in with me then!

Loving.  A former co-worker’s email about another former co-worker’s Jane Austen-themed wedding got me remembering this article about an Anne of Green Gables wedding photoshoot I saw a few years ago, and I fell down the rabbit hole of scrolling through the pictures over and over again, smiling at the Anne and Gilbert lookalike models, the raspberry cordial table, the rowboat and White Way of Delight pictures, and all the little details plucked from the books and recreated into the perfect wedding.  If I was getting married today, I might try to convince Steve that we should do this.  I don’t think he’d go for it today (but I’ll bet he would have back when we were actually engaged…).

Asking.  What are you reading this week?

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A Black Friday Hike in the Albany Pine Bush

After a long car ride on Wednesday and an indoor, food-filled day on Thanksgiving, several of us were craving outdoor time and fresh air.  I’d been hoping to make a hike happen and was secretly cherishing an ambition to hike Mount Jo, Heart Lake or Indian Head in the Adirondacks, but the long drive up to the mountains wasn’t especially enticing – something closer to my parents’ house sounded much better, and after some discussion we settled on the Pine Bush.

The Pine Bush is a unique ecosystem – one of the few remaining inland pine barrens, with lupine and scrub oak also growing in the sandy soil.  (It’s also the home of the endangered Karner blue butterfly, but I figured I’d be safe from flapping wings in November – and I was.)  We parked near the Discovery Center, spent a bit of time exploring the indoor exhibits, then set off for a quick meander around one of the well-marked trails.

It was just Steve, me, and the little dude this time.  Peanut is the latest victim of the disgusting chest cold that Nugget brought home from school and has been passing around the family, so she stayed home with Nana to rest and recover.  Also – lest you think that all of our family hikes are perfect – you should know that Nugget screamed to be picked up the entire time.  We’ve gotten out of the habit of hiking, thanks to a busy summer and fall, and both kids have started complaining vociferously on the few hikes we have been able to fit in recently.  We ignored him and he finally stopped complaining and just hiked sullenly along with about five minutes left of trail.

The scenery was a good distraction from the caterwauling.  Can you believe this park and preserve is just a stone’s throw away from the largest shopping mall in Albany?  I know.

I was happy to be here, and not there, on Black Friday.  Trails suit me much better than a crowded mall.

Pine Bush, you’re beautiful!  I’ll definitely be back.  Just maybe not in butterfly season.

Did you hike over Thanksgiving weekend?

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Reading Round-Up: November 2019

Reading is my oldest and favorite hobby. I can’t remember a time in my life when I didn’t love to curl up with a good book. Here are my reads for November, 2019…

 

Plague Land (Somershill Manor Mystery #1), by S.D. Sykes – Murder mysteries set in historical times are very much my jam, so I was intrigued to check out this new-to-me series featuring an English Lord in a Kentish village just after the Plague.  I liked, but didn’t love it – Sykes doesn’t shy away from picturing the brutality of medieval life, which I mostly tolerate, but lately I’ve been craving gentler fiction.  The mystery also felt like a convenient device more than a plot driver.  I will probably continue with the series, but need a break first.

Slightly Foxed No. 8: Cooking with a Poet, ed. Gail Pirkis and Hazel Wood – At least to a certain extent, I can measure the success of an issue of Slightly Foxed by how many of the featured titles end up either on my Amazon wishlist or in my Abebooks cart.  In the case of issue number 8, there were a few, and there would have been more except for the fact that I already owned a few of the books the contributors profiled (like Another Self and Period Piece).  There’s not much that’s as comforting as curling up with a cup of tea and an issue of Slightly Foxed, and it was just what I needed.

Wives and Daughters, by Elizabeth Gaskell – It took me awhile, mainly because I was reluctant to lug the giant doorstopper volume I have (it’s a beautiful Folio Society hardcover) on the Metro – but Wives and Daughters was wonderful and worth every minute spent with it.  It’s a testament to how marvelous Gaskell’s storytelling is that I closed the book reluctantly, wishing it wasn’t over – after more than 650 pages.  My new favorite Gaskell!  Fully reviewed here.

The Shadow King, by Maaza Mengiste – I’d heard good things about this historical novel of Ethiopia in World War II, but try as I did, I couldn’t get into it.  Part of it was the author’s decision not to use quotation marks, which made it hard to follow the dialogue – but mostly, this was just the wrong time for me to read this book.  After months on end of extreme work stress, I am craving something gentler and calmer, and a book about a brutal war was never going to work for me at this time.  It was beautifully written but not for me, at least not for me right now.

The Stationery Shop, by Marjan Kamali– After feeling like my previous read was just too much, I approached The Stationery Shop with trepidation, but ended up really enjoying it.  There was a little violence, but most of the book focused on family interactions and cultural traditions – interspersed with luscious descriptions of Persian food – and it was wonderful.

The Testaments (The Handmaid’s Tale #2), by Margaret Atwood – This is an unpopular opinion, but I preferred The Testaments to The Handmaid’s Tale.  There is no question that The Handmaid’s Tale is the better book of the two, but The Testaments had a more hopeful feel and a pacier plot.  I found The Handmaid’s Tale deeply distressing – which was the intent, of course, so it did its job – and have never felt compelled to re-read it.  But for a gripping, plotty reading experience… I actually really liked The Testaments.

Magic Flutes, by Eva Ibbotson – Having heard that Magic Flutes is not one of Ibbotson’s strongest offerings, I had low expectations, and they were mostly met.  The story was fine, if formulaic, and the characters mostly the same.  Ibbotson clearly drew her hero in the Bronte mold (there’s even a reference to him being in “one of his Mr. Rochester moods”) and the older I get, the less alluring I find Bronte-style heroes.  What I really disliked about this book was its portrayal of a Jewish character.  I tried to remind myself that the book was a product of its times, but it left a very sour taste in my mouth.  If I didn’t know that Ibbotson’s other books are better, I’d probably be turned off the author completely.  As it is, I’ll definitely read more Ibbotson (if only because I love her settings – like Vienna and an Austrian castle, here), but won’t re-read Magic Flutes.

Wait for Me!, by Deborah Mitford, Duchess of Devonshire – I can’t get enough details and gossip about the Mitford family, and have had Debo’s memoirs on my list to read for years.  The youngest of the six Mitford sisters (and Tom, can’t forget about Tom – everyone does), Deborah Mitford married the younger son of the Duke of Devonshire, only to become a Duchess-in-waiting when her brother-in-law was killed in World War II.  Debo’s memories of growing up in one of the most famous families of the day, and of her years as a Duchess, are fascinating reading – even if she’s not as good of a writer as her elder sister Nancy.  (Debo also professes not to be a reader, but I think she should give herself more credit – in addition to Nancy and Jessica, her memoirs mention Anthony Trollope, E.F. Benson, Evelyn Waugh – who did not enjoy his stay with the Devonshires – and Patrick Leigh Fermor, to name just a few of the literary lights with whom Debo mixed.)

Poems of Gratitude, ed. Emily Fragas – I really enjoy making my way through the slim poetry collections in the Everyman’s Library Pocket Poets series, but I think Poems of Gratitude has been my favorite thus far.  Fragas’ editorial decisions – for instance, to mix up the time periods instead of progressing chronologically in each section, and to include more works by women, non-native English speakers, people of color, and First Nations people – were really inspired.  Poems of Gratitude was wonderful reading on Thanksgiving.

Nine books seems like a relatively small achievement for November, which is a longer month.  But it was a busy month – lots of work and preparation for traveling over Thanksgiving and one Victorian doorstopper (also the highlight of the month) – made for slow going for a while there.  But I made up for it with a luxurious weekend of reading four books over Thanksgiving, which was wonderful.  Now on to the holiday season; I suspect my December list will look a little paltry as well, since I have a lot on my plate at work and at home.  But I’ll be turning to holiday books all month and I can’t wait.

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It’s Monday! What Are You Reading? (December 2, 2019)

Well, here we go – a new week.  For those who enjoyed a long weekend, I hope it was wonderful and restful, and that your Sunday Scaries weren’t too bad.  Mine hit hard – after four days of not working (but lots of worrying that I should be) and a busy week ahead.  But let’s not talk about that.  How were your Thanksgivings?  We had a great one – shoved off early on Wednesday to drive up to Albany, NY, to visit my folks.  (What do you think of that skyline?  The river, the mountains, the sunset…)  Thanksgiving was as peaceful and relaxing as I’d predicted – after getting through the remains of my particularly time-sensitive work on Wednesday afternoon, I gave myself over to resting.  My mom cooked a delicious dinner and I didn’t have to help at all, and over the course of the weekend I got in all of the things I was hoping for – lots of reading time, visits with two of my closest friends, holiday lights in Washington Park and a delicious dinner out at Dove + Deer, a hike in the crisp November air, and a long afternoon of chatting with my grandmother and aunt.  We even managed to decorate my parents’ Christmas tree on Saturday night.  So – a successful Thanksgiving weekend.  Now it’s a busy December ahead, between holiday preparations and wrapping up the year at work.  Full steam ahead!


Reading.  It was a very busy reading week – as I’d hoped and expected, knowing that I had a luxuriously long weekend and limited responsibilities.  Sometimes I spend more time chatting to my mom than reading on visits to NY, but not this time, thanks to a painful cough and laryngitis.  So there was nothing for it but to read, and read, and read some more.  I finished Wait for Me!, the memoirs of Debo Mitford, a.k.a. the Duchess of Devonshire, on Wednesday evening, polished off Poems of Gratitude between Wednesday night and Thursday morning, then spent most of the rest of the weekend feverishly flipping pages in Anne Boleyn: A King’s Obsession.  I finished it just as we rolled into our driveway, chilled to the bone by the last chapter (shudder) and promptly – or as soon as the kids were settled in, anyway – polished off the December chapter of The Almanac 2019, which I’ve been reading all year, as a palate cleanser.  Still seeking something comforting to begin the workweek with, I’m now well into Not That It Matters, a collection of essays by A.A. Milne.  Next up – I’m not sure, but I’m thinking something Christmassy.

Watching.  I’m strictly Team After Thanksgiving when it comes to Christmas music and movies, but since we have now passed the date, all bets are off.  Most importantly in terms of viewing, the kids celebrated a milestone – the first viewing of Home Alone.  Nugget’s jaw was on the floor.  And Nana used it as a teachable moment for advising the kids about the dangers of being disrespectful and generally annoying.  (Look what happened to Kevin McAllister!  He had to sleep in the attic and then his family went to France without him!)  Just as important as Home Alone was the traditional post-Christmas-tree-decorating first viewing of National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, which will be played on repeat all season.  You serious, Clark?

Listening.  This is the category that suffers for the wealth of reading and watching that was done this week.  I didn’t listen to much of anything, save a couple of podcast episodes in the early part of the week.  Can’t even remember what they were, so clearly nothing too exciting.

Making.  I’m rather pleased to report that I didn’t make anything.  In a week when most people were tied to their kitchens, I was relaxing on the couch with a book.  (Thanks, Mom!)  With all the holiday preparations ahead of me, that will surely change this week – but it was restful.

Blogging.  November reading round-up coming atcha on Wednesday, and a hike recap from our Thanksgiving travels on Friday.  Check back with me then!

Loving.  As gift-giving season gets underway, I am feeling rather smug, because I have teacher gifts all taken care of.  For those who are still looking for ideas, I love to give Rescue Gifts – there’s a variety of themes and price points, and Rescue.org has a good score on Charity Watch.  They’re good for last-minute shopping, because you can get an e-gift card delivered to the recipient’s email, but I like to order the printed cards for the kids to give their teachers on the last day of school before the holiday break.  I thought far enough ahead this year and ordered before Thanksgiving, which leaves me plenty of time.  I’m feeling good about having one of my holiday to-do list items checked off, and even better about the kids’ gifts – school supplies for refugee children, dedicated in their teachers’ names – this year.

Asking.  What are you reading this week?

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Pied Beauty, by Gerard Manley Hopkins

Glory be to God for dappled things –
For skies of couple-colour as a brindled cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
Landscape plotted and pierced – fold, fallow, and plough;
And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, adim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change;
Praise him.

If you’re celebrating this weekend, I wish you a very happy Thanksgiving, filled with all the blessings that family and mashed potatoes can bestow.  I’m grateful for you!

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Small Gratitudes

Happy (American) Thanksgiving, friends – it’s tomorrow!  I’m spending the day wrapping up a bit of work in hopes of an actual breather and a real four-day weekend, and later this afternoon I’ll probably be elbow deep in potato peelings.  While I make final preparations for a weekend that I hope will include some of my favorite things – like mashed potatoes, hikes through crunchy fallen leaves, and time with my grandmother – I’m thinking, as always, of the big and small things for which I am grateful.  The big things are obvious – sweet, healthy kiddos; a marriage that is going on fifteen years now; a roof over my head, healthy food to eat, and the means to send my kids to a good school; and a job where I do work that I’m good at and where my colleagues respect me.  But there are little things, too.  Things like:

  • Shelves of good books to read, especially my beloved classics.
  • Related: an excellent public library system.
  • Farmers’ market flowers on grey afternoons.
  • The Slightly Foxed Quarterly, with its cream-colored covers and literary joys.
  • Tea!  All the tea!
  • The fun of fitting jigsaw pieces together with my puzzle-loving little guy.
  • Lovely next-door neighbors.
  • Bruschetta from Pizzeria Paradiso.  So delicious.
  • The Great British Bake-Off, for when I want to turn off my brain and watch people being kind to each other and baking up delicious treats.
  • Lights in the trees in Old Town.
  • Bolognese sauce made with Impossible burger ground, impossibly delicious.
  • Brick sidewalks and cobblestone streets.
  • Yellow and red leaves outside my kitchen window.
  • Shenandoah National Park, practically in my backyard.
  • Afternoons spent flipping through old photo albums, reliving good times.
  • The Mount Vernon Trail, which is the best running and biking location.
  • Newly discovered playgrounds – and old favorites, too.
  • Texts from my BFF, who has been sending me videos of dolphins playing in the gulf waters right off her dock.
  • Jane Austen.
  • The free LaCroix we have at work.  That’s right.
  • Hockey season gearing up just as baseball wound spectacularly down.
  • Having my dad’s old film camera back in working order.
  • My favorite warm orange sweater from Target, which is a weekday workhorse.
  • Vacation plans starting to fall into place for 2020.
  • Blue skies and crisp breezes.
  • Roasted vegetables, especially when they get a little caramelized around the edges.
  • My new wallet, a birthday gift from my BFF.  It’s vegan, pretty, and easy to organize.
  • Mists rolling in over the Potomac River, and anticipating paddling season (already).

And there are so many more that I can think of – small things that make life nicer every day.  The fact that I can make such a long list – and have to cut myself off, lest I go on for hours – is in and of itself a big thing.

What little things are you grateful for this season?

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It’s Monday! What Are You Reading? (November 25, 2019)

Happy Thanksgiving week, friends!  If you’re traveling this week, I wish you a safe, speedy and seamless journey.  We’re looking forward to celebrations later in the week, but there are a few work and school days to get through first.  And there’s recovery after a busy weekend!  I was very glad to see Friday’s arrival after another busy week of late nights.  We planned to celebrate Steve’s birthday this weekend – poor guy was stuck with a lame Tuesday birthday this year – and he decided that for his birthday activity, he wanted to take the kids to the National Zoo.  What a guy, right?  I reminded him that they’re not actually in charge of what we do, but he decided that he’d rather not listen to the whining, so he gave up his right to a birthday hike.  He was rewarded, though, because we caught the lion in the act of this spectacular yawn.  (I took a whole progression of snaps, so stay tuned.)  On Sunday, Nugget asked to go to the Natural History Museum and despite having a disgusting and pretty painful cough, I put on my Mom pants and took him.  Peanut wasn’t in the mood and Steve wanted to stay home, so it ended up being a mother-son outing.  We took the Metro, saw the dinosaurs and the giant squid, and ate lunch under an enormous shark.  Basically, you could be excused for thinking that Nugget, not Steve, was the birthday boy this weekend.

Reading.  Pretty busy and pacey reading week.  On Monday I finished up The Testaments – ripped right through it.  Then I spent most of the rest of the week over Magic Flutes, which disappointed me (even though I knew going in that it was not Ibbotson’s best).  I spent the weekend with Debo Devonshire, also known as Deborah Mitford, youngest of the most famous set of six sisters (and Tom!) of the twentieth century.  Also dipped in and out of Poems of Gratitude – getting ready for Thanksgiving.

Watching.  We had a family movie night on Saturday evening and watched Ice Age – somehow I’d never seen it.  Very cute and funny.  I also watched the second episode of Miranda Mills’ new booktube channel, on bookish dilemmas.

Listening.  A little of this, a little of that.  The highlight was listening to the Book Riot podcast bonus episode on The Testaments and the Handmaid’s Tale phenomenon.  I expected Jeff and Rebecca to deliver with well-considered and insightful commentary on the cultural moment that these books are having, and they did.  The other highlight of the week was downloading the original recording of Rhapsody in Blue, my favorite piece of instrumental music ever, played by Gershwin himself.  That was $1.49 extremely well spent.

Making.  Not making much this weekend – almost no cooking, as we’re trying to eat through the contents of our fridge before Thanksgiving mania descends; the only thing I made in the kitchen was a quick batch of homemade applesauce, to use up some apples that looked beautiful but turned out to be a little too grainy to eat out of hand.  Homemade applesauce never lasts long in our house, so it will be well out of the way before the big day.  I did a few rows of a seed stitch scarf I’m making – at the rate I’m going, I should be done with it just in time for the first July heat wave of 2022.

Blogging.  It’s Thanksgiving central here this week!  I have a list of small gratitudes for you on Wednesday and would love to hear what little things you’re grateful for this season.  And on Friday, a seasonal poem that I recently read for the first time.  Check in with me then, and have a lovely holiday!

Loving.  I’ve been working on drinking through some of my tea stash – I know, what else is new? – and lately I’ve been working on a box of Kusmi peppermint tea in lovely muslin tea bags.  It’s delicious and tastes just right for these chilly pre-holiday nights.  (Next up: Harney & Sons “White Christmas” tea, which I’ve been saving for December.)

Asking.  What are you reading this week?

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Recent Aquisitions of a Bookish Variety

I’m really not much of a shopper – you won’t find me spending hours at the mall (unless it’s a mall made up entirely of bookstores and REI; if you know of one of those, please do tell) and aside from fun sneakers, I don’t have any accessory vices.  But I have had a fair number of books trickle in over the last six months or so, and it struck me that it’s been awhile since I rounded up the new arrivals and showed them to you.  I’ve definitely missed some, but here’s the latest.

Poems of Gratitude, ed. John Hollander – Slowly building up my Everyman’s Library Pocket Poets collection; I’ve had my eye on this little volume for years and Thanksgiving seems like a good time to finally dive in, so I just picked it up.

New Year’s Day, by Edith Wharton – My favorite of the four novellas that make up Old New York, by Edith Wharton, I couldn’t resist a first edition at a surprisingly good price.  I’d have loved if this came with the pretty sprigged floral dust jacket, but that would have taken the price from affordable to prohibitive.

The Week-End Book: A Sociable Anthology, by Frances Meynell – Read a blurb about this 1930s book of odds and ends in a back issue of Slightly Foxed and knew I wanted to read it.  Obviously, the library didn’t have a copy – but it’s not exactly a sought-after title, so I got a good deal on a used copy.

Fraulein Schmidt and Mr Anstruther, by Elizabeth von Arnim – When comfort reading is in order, von Arnim delivers, and I know I will be turning to this soon.

The Secrets of the Bastide Blanche, by M. L. Longworth – A mystery set in Provence?  I’m sold – I don’t need any more information than that.  Also, this was on the dollar table at the library sale, so the price was definitely right.

The Corner that Held Them, by Sylvia Townsend Warner – Whenever I stop into Old Town Books, my local indie, I try to show my support and buy something.  I’ve had Townsend Warner’s novel about nuns in a medieval abbey on my wish list for years, and I was delighted to happen upon it on the shelves in the new “classics corner” at OTB.

Anything Considered, by Peter Mayle – I am always down for Mayle, and this was another dollar table find at the library sale.  I also picked up Chasing Cezanne.

Christmas Crackers, by John Julius Norwich – Having discovered my love of the commonplace book last Christmas, I have been wanting to dive into Norwich’s – he may not have invented the genre, but my understanding is: he perfected it.  I had to scout a bit to find a used copy of the first decade of his “Christmas Crackers” in good shape and at a decent price, but I found it!

The Twelve Days of Christmas, by John Julius Norwich – I heard about this on the “Tea and Tattle” podcast and knew I had to pick up a copy.  Saving it to read by the light of the Christmas tree.

The Vegetable Gardeners Handbook (The Old Farmers Almanac) – To be honest, I was surprised when this turned up on my doorstep.  I pre-ordered it months ago and forgot all about it.  I’m excited to dig in (pun, appreciate) to this and an organic gardening book I recently received through my Buy Nothing book this winter, to get ready for the gardening season ahead.

Ancestral Voices and Prophesying Peace: Diaries 1942-1945, by James Lees-Milne – I can’t even tell you how long I’ve been trying to track down a copy of the first two volumes of Lees-Milne’s diaries, but they’re so expensive.  It took awhile to find a copy in good condition at a price I could swallow.  I can’t wait to read this!

A Great Reckoning, by Louise Penny – My aunt insisted that I read Louise Penny’s Three Pines mysteries, and after the first one I was hooked.  When I found a pristine hardcover for $2 at the library sale (are you sensing a theme here?) I instantly grabbed it.  Every time I go to the library to check out or return books, I now scout the sale tables for more Louise Penny.  So far, I haven’t found any more, but luck favors the persistent.

A Better Man, by Louise Penny – The latest Three Pines, picked up at our other local indie, Hooray for Books! – it will be awhile before I get to this, since I’m still in the early part of the series.  But I love supporting my neighborhood bookstores.

What have you picked up recently?

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The Classics Club Challenge: Wives and Daughters, by Elizabeth Gaskell

Well, all I can say is, never be the heroine of a mystery.  That you can avoid, if you can’t help being an accessory.

The more I experience of the worlds created by Elizabeth Gaskell, the more I love her work.  While she’ll never knock my beloved Jane Austen and L.M. Montgomery off the pedestal they share, she’s stepped right over her dear friend Charlotte Bronte’s place in my affections.  I’m sorry to say I clung to a teenaged prejudice against Gaskell for too long, based entirely on her responsibility for the sanitized Life of Charlotte Bronte, the very idea of which (because I haven’t actually read it) my high school self found offensive.  But a few years ago I decided it was time I gave Gaskell a try, so I picked up Cranford and was captivated and delighted.  Then last year, grieving a family member who had appreciated Gaskell, I turned to North and South to ease the loss, and it was just what I needed.

Wives and Daughters is my third Gaskell, and I think it’s my favorite so far.  It’s pure joy from the first page to the last.  When the story opens, we meet young Molly Gibson, daughter of a respected country doctor, on her way to her first foray into society – for a garden party at Cumnor Towers, the local seat of the Earl and Countess of Cumnor.  While at the Towers, Molly falls ill – too much excitement, not enough food – and is bundled off to rest in the bedroom of the younger Cumnor ladies’ governess, a woman named Clare.  Clare promises to retrieve Molly in time for her to go home, then promptly forgets that Molly exists at all.  When Molly awakens, it’s dark, and she has to spend the night at the Towers – the first night she’s spent away from home, and away from her widowed father.  She’s distraught and forlorn, and your heart breaks for her immediately – and you want to throttle the thoughtless Clare.

Fast-forward a few years: the teenaged Molly is just as innocent as the young lamb who found herself lost and forgotten at Cumnor Towers, but now she’s the recipient – unwittingly, though – of her first love correspondence.  Mr. Gibson intercepts a letter from one of his medical students, professing his (somewhat embarrassing) undying love for Molly.  Mr. Gibson panics, packs the young offender (he’s a ginger! the horror!) off to his relatives, fires the housemaid from whom he intercepts the message, and sends Molly to Hamley Hall, residence of the local squire, to be out of the way.  At Hamley, Molly endears herself to the squire and his wife – especially his wife.  And she develops a girlish crush on the poetic elder son of the house, Osborne, and a quiet respect and admiration for his younger brother Roger.

Meanwhile, Mr. Gibson, still in a dad-panic, decides there’s only one thing to be done: he needs to marry again, and fast.  Molly clearly needs a mother, someone dependable and loving, who can guide her as she transitions from girlhood into young womanhood.  It doesn’t much signify that Molly doesn’t want a stepmother intruding on her intimacy with her father – in fact, Mr. Gibson doesn’t even ask her opinion.  (Mr. Gibson is a man of many wonderful qualities, but his one major failing is a tendency to have knee-jerk reactions and freak out and make really dumb decisions.)  In his search for a steadying influence on Molly (who doesn’t actually need steadying) Mr. Gibson chooses the worst possible candidate: one Hyacinth Kirkpatrick, a pretentious social-climbing widow, who in her more youthful days was none other than the self-centered Clare – the very same, whose forgetfulness was at the root of Molly’s one and only traumatic childhood memory.  Whoops!

Mrs. Kirkpatrick, who sees a good thing and quickly becomes Mrs. Gibson, is a terrible choice for a stepmother.  She’s hardly the sobering influence Mr. Gibson has in mind.  Molly dreads her entry into the family and suffers a great deal of heartache around her father’s wedding, and it’s immediately apparent from the new Mrs. Gibson’s tone-deafness when it comes to her stepdaughter (insisting on being called “Mamma,” stripping the house of Molly’s memories of her real mother…) that Mr. Gibson has made an awful mistake.  But the reader is fortunate, because Mrs. Gibson, with all her pretentions and aspirations, is one of the best comedic characters I’ve ever read, and she also ushers the blooming Cynthia into the story.

Cynthia is Mrs. Gibson’s daughter from her first marriage.  She’s everything Molly is not – flirtatious to Molly’s quiet serenity, gaudily beautiful to Molly’s restrained elegance, underhanded to Molly’s straightforwardness and forthrightness.  But Molly immediately adores Cynthia, and Cynthia, to her credit, adores Molly.  And somehow – it works.  Molly is Cynthia’s staunch ally, and Cynthia is Molly’s devoted friend, and their relationship quickly becomes as close as if they were really sisters – even when Cynthia catches the eye of Roger Hamley, which Molly discovers she doesn’t quite appreciate, somehow.

Cynthia looked lovelier than ever to him for the slight restriction that had been laid for a time on their intercourse.  She might be gay and sparkling with Osborne; with Roger she was soft and grave.  Instinctively she knew her men.  She saw that Osborne was only interested in her because of her position in a family with whom he was intimate; that his friendship was without the least touch of sentiment; and that his admiration was only the warm criticism of an artist for unusual beauty.  But she felt how different Roger’s relation to her was.  To him she was the one, alone, peerless.  If his love was prohibited, it would be long years before he could sink down into tepid friendship; and to him her personal loveliness was only one of the many charms which made him tremble with passion.  Cynthia was not capable of returning such feelings; she had too little true love in her life, and perhaps too much admiration to do so; but she appreciated this honest ardour, this loyal worship that was new to her experience.  Such appreciation, and such respect for his true and affectionate nature, gave a serious tenderness to her manner to Roger; which allured him with a fresh and separate grace.  Molly sat by, and wondered how it would all end, or rather, how soon it would all end, for she thought that no girl could resist such reverent passion; and on Roger’s side there could be no doubt – alas! there could be no doubt.

It’s worth mentioning the relationship between Osborne and Roger, as it parallels the relationship between Cynthia and Molly in many ways.  Osborne and Roger are as different as two brothers can be – yet once again, it works.  Their genuine affection for one another, as with Cynthia and Molly, overcomes their differences in personality.  Roger steadfastly loves and supports his brother through any number of troubles, and it’s beautiful.

Because Osborne does have some troubles – or more to the point, some secrets.  And so does Cynthia.  Molly becomes party to both of their secrets, and she is resolved to help Cynthia out of a “scrape” that the latter has been concealing.  Help she does, but…

Scandal sleeps in the summer, comparatively speaking.  Its nature is the reverse of that of the dormouse.  Warm ambient air, loiterings abroad, gardenings, flowers to talk about, and preserves to make, soothed the wicked imp to slumber in the parish of Hollingford in summer-time.  But when evenings grew short, and people gathered round the fires, and put their feet in a circle – not on the fenders, that was not allowed – then was the time for confidential conversation!

Molly is observed undertaking some actions to help put Cynthia’s life in order, and her well-intentioned comings and goings are misconstrued and misinterpreted by the idle ladies of Hollingford.  And then – as Gaskell puts it – Molly finds a champion, in Lady Harriet Cumnor, one of the best secondary characters in the book.  (Side note: I’d like to read a book starring Harriet as a lady adventurer.  She and the fabulous Miss Dunstable, of Trollope’s Doctor Thorne, could go mountaineering together, or maybe excavate some tombs like Victorian lady Indiana Joneses.  Will someone please write that?  Perhaps I’ll have to.)  The quick-witted Lady Harriet, overhearing her parents’ gossiping about Molly, immediately puts two and two together, figures out what’s really going on, and single-handedly saves Molly’s reputation in the fearless way that only a woman who knows she’s on a high enough pedestal to have nothing to fear from gossips can do.  But no sooner is Molly’s reputation on the mend, than tragedy strikes – and that, I won’t divulge, because you need to read Wives and Daughters and let Elizabeth Gaskell spin this tale for you.

Wives and Daughters should be more widely read – for the beauty of the language, the diversion of the story, and the wonderful characters.  And of course, the great tragedy of the book is that it’s unfinished – Gaskell died suddenly, just before writing the last chapter.  But the reader knows how it’s all going to end – there’s only one possible outcome at that point.  I’ll let you work it out for yourself.

Team Gaskell, amirite?

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It’s Monday! What Are You Reading? (November 18, 2019)

All right, Monday, let’s go.  This was sort of a blah weekend.  I’m still really tired from my marathon October and from work stress that continues apace and doesn’t seem likely to die down anytime soon.  I keep thinking things like, next week will be quieter and if I just get myself organized I can tackle it all no problem, and those things might be true but they also seem very out of reach right now.  It was a cold and grey weekend here – every year around this time we move out of the weird weather season (where it’s shorts weather one day and big coat weather the next) and the chill settles in for a few months.  (With some exceptions – we’ve had warm days throughout the fall and winter seasons, and March blizzards.)  I think that happened last week, and now I’m digging out hats and mittens.  Nugget has his first bad cold of the season – he missed school on Thursday with a fever, and compounded the misery by falling face-first off the couch on Friday evening and getting a split lip.  So we’ve been trying to give him a cozy recovery weekend of laying low, but if you know Nugget – you know that’s not a thing he does.  He spent all of Saturday on the couch and was climbing the walls by bedtime, and on Sunday I took him out to run off his energy on the soccer field.  He was still under the weather, though, and drooped on home after about twenty minutes.  As for me – I was just grumpy, with my patience at its lowest ebb for everyone except the little guy (who gets to claim sympathy for being sick and injured).  Months of nonstop high-stakes long-hours workdays have really taken their toll on me.  The sparkly season can’t come soon enough.

Reading.  Despite my dire predictions of last week, it was a productive reading week.  I finished Wives and Daughters on Monday and loved it – full review coming this week.  As expected, I spent most of the week over The Shadow King, which I appreciated for its vivid writing and cultural importance, but which I couldn’t love.  The problem was mostly with me – a gruesome tale of the horrors of World War II in Ethiopia was not the right book of the moment for me; I’m stressed out and overwhelmed and craving comfort reading.  But I was working under a library deadline (others were waiting) and had to either read it or return it unread, which I hate to do.  (I also didn’t like that the author didn’t use quotation marks, which made it hard to follow the dialogue.)  The rest of the week’s reading was also library deadline reading, also not particularly cozy, but went faster – over the course of the weekend, I read through The Stationery Shop and about half of The Testaments.  Both are engaging, but I will confess that my favorite part of The Stationery Shop was the luscious descriptions of Persian food (which made me think of my next-door neighbor, Zoya, who is Iranian and has introduced me to her favorite traditional dishes – yum).

Watching.  Another episode of The Great British Bake-Off – we’re still two seasons behind, but not in a big rush to catch up.  Also, newsworthy – for the kids, anyway – is that Steve was sweet-talked into signing up for Disney Plus, and they’ve become obsessed with Peter Pan.  If you’re wondering whether Peter Pan holds up to contemporary standards of cultural sensitivity: it does not.

Listening.  Working my way through podcast episodes, now that I’ve finished my marathon audiobook.  I’ve given up on the idea that someday I’ll have a clean podcatcher, but I’m still chipping away at it.  Most notable is what I haven’t listened to – the Book Riot Podcast bonus episode on the Handmaid’s Tale phenomenon, which I am saving for after I finish The Testaments – so, sometime this week.

Making.  Lots of cooking this weekend.  I made chickpeas of the sea (my old recipe, which I haven’t made in years, but I had a craving for it); veggie stew (also with chickpeas); roasted broccoli; sautéed green cabbage (my central European is showing!); and taco “meat” with sautéed sliced peppers.  No one is allowed to complain that there’s nothing to eat.  Also making: plans for the holiday theatre season.  For Peanut’s and my holiday tradition of seeing a show – just us girls – I am torn between Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus! at the Kennedy Center, and the Washington Ballet’s performance of The Nutcracker.  Two very different options.  I’m also considering getting tickets to the kid-friendly performance of the highlights from Handel’s Messiah at the National Cathedral – going to see Messiah performed was one of Steve’s and my traditions before Peanut arrived, and I miss the music.  I’m hemming and hawing over all of these and being really indecisive – the only tickets I’ve actually purchased are for a date night, to see Amadeus at the Folger Theatre.  I loved the movie in high school, and am irrationally excited about seeing the musical, especially at the gorgeous Folger.

Blogging.  Bookish week for you!  A review of Wives and Daughters on Wednesday (not a spoiler, because you already know – I loved it) and a show-and-tell of some recent(ish) additions to the bookshelves on Friday.  Check in with me then!

Loving.  I can’t remember if I’ve waxed rhapsodic to you about cocojune yogurt yet, but if I haven’t, buckle up.  I’m obsessssssssed.  I’ve been trying to cut down on dairy (not cut it out completely, but just replace it with non-dairy options where it makes sense to do so) and one of the products I’ve been struggling to replace is my beloved plain Greek yogurt.  None of the vegan options I’ve found have the same thick texture and pleasant tang.  Daiya’s Greek yogurt alternative comes close, and I do like it, but I recently came across cocojune at my local organic market and – YUM.  It’s one of the thicker vegan yogurts I’ve found – still thinner than my beloved Fage – not too sweet, and most importantly, it has the tang.  I’ve tried all four of the flavors – original coconut; strawberry rhubarb; lemon elderflower; and vanilla chamomile – and predictably, the original coconut is my favorite.  But I surprised myself by liking the vanilla chamomile second-best – really, all the flavors are delicious.  I now have about twelve little containers in my fridge, and I am hoarding them.  No one else is allowed to touch them.

Asking.  What are you reading this week?