My Life in Books: Karen and Lisa

This is My Life in Books, Series Six, Day One! The first pair this week are:

Karen, who blogs at Booker Talk

Lisa, who blogs at ANZ Lit Lovers

Qu. 1.) Did you grow up in a book-loving household, and did your parents read to you? Pick a favourite book from your childhood, and tell me about it.

Karen: You’re really testing my memory here! Since my childhood was more than five decades ago I have few recollections of that time. I had to ask my parents to fill in the gaps. Apparently yes there were lots of books around the house and they did read to me. Lots of fairy stories in my early years and later the classics like Little Women, Heidi, Coral Island and Treasure Island.

When I progressed to being able to read myself I used my pocket money to buy just about every boarding school book that existed. A particular favourite was Jane Eyre – it still is, though of course I read it very differently now. As a child I loved the rebel in Jane Eyre – a bit of a theme here since it was the rebel Jo in Little Women that I was drawn to most.

Lisa: Both my parents, but especially my father, nurtured my love of books.  Though I remember my father singing us to sleep, I don’t remember anyone reading to me, but that’s because I can’t remember not being able to read for myself. We had shelves and shelves of books in the house, adults’ and children’s, but even though we always received books at Christmas and birthdays, there were never enough because we were all voracious readers.  So Daddy used to walk us down to the library every Saturday to get some more. We moved a lot when I was a child, but the first thing my father always did was to join us up to the library so it became a lifelong habit.

My favourite book from my childhood was A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle – and I still have it, inscribed ‘To Lisa with love from Daddy, Christmas 1965’.  I loved this book because I was fascinated by the idea of time travel, and I can remember talking about it with my mother, who thought it could be possible, and my father who (being a scientist) thought it wasn’t… I realise now, too, that I may also have liked it because it had a brave and intelligent female hero, which (although there was Alice) was not common in books for children in those days. 

Qu. 2.) What was one of the first ‘grown-up’ books that you really enjoyed? What was going on in your life at this point?

Karen: The first I can remember were the novels of Jean Plaidy that I discovered when I was about 12 years old. I couldn’t get enough of those tales of that roguish king Charles II or the intrigues of the Tudor court. They were way more exciting – more real – than all the boring political history about the Reform Act and Repeal of the Corn Laws we got in school

A friend shared my enthusiasm so our walk to school was full of discussion about what we’d read the previous night. We got too carried away however so inevitably arrived after the school bell had sounded.

The enthusiasm I had then for history has never gone away.

Lisa: As I grew older and started reading ‘adult’ books, talking about them with my father became part of our Saturday after-lunch-while-doing-the-dishes routine.  He suggested that I read Nineteen Eighty-Four and then went on to Aldous Huxley.  I was still at school, but rather bored, so these discussions about philosophy and the possible future were the intellectual highlight of my week.

1984, of course, was then still in the future, but in my immediate future as an adult, so it messed, in a good way, with my adolescent anticipation of being an adult and free to do whatever I liked, with a future controlled by faceless authorities. I think that’s what made me interested in (armchair) politics. 

Qu. 3.) Pick a favourite book that you read in your 20s or early 30s – especially if it’s one which helped set you off in a certain direction in life.

Karen: After university I embarked on a career as a journalist. One of my ‘heroes’ was Keith Waterhouse, a columnist for the Daily Mirror newspaper, one of the biggest selling newspapers in the UK. I’d read his columns throughout my teens, laughing as he held forth on his obsessions with the minutiae of life. He’d rail about shopkeepers whose shop windows advertised “potato’s” and “pound’s of apple’s and orange’s”

His book, Daily Mirror Style became my bible.  In it, he urged journalists to avoid cliches and puns and the ‘purple prose’ that George Orwell so hated. I took his advice to heart. Discovering this book set in train my life-long hatred of the kind of jargon found everywhere in business. Phrases like “mind-set”, “moving forward” and “North Star” are guaranteed to set me on edge. And don’t even get me started on “leverage”.

Lisa: That would be The Female Eunuch by Germaine Greer. It was a revelation to me, and since I was married and a mother by then, it certainly triggered some lively discussions around the dinner table! I’d been a bit of a feminist without knowing it, but reading Greer gave me a philosophical framework and a legitimacy for the my ideas about gender equity.  

Apparently Greer doesn’t like it when people tell her that she changed their lives, because she thinks that we’re the ones who did the changing, but it’s certainly true in my case, that she triggered changes in what I expected from life and how I was to be treated. That moment when I picked up the keys to our one and only car *without* asking “permission” reconfigured the power relationship in our marriage and ultimately made us both much happier.

Qu. 4.) What’s one of your favourite books that you’ve found in the last year or two? How did you come to blogging and how has blogging changed your reading habits?  

Karen: I started blogging when I came up with an idea to read all the Booker prize winners and wanted a way to document my experience. What I hadn’t expected was that blogging would introduce me to so many new authors. It made me realise that my reading had a fairly narrow geographic focus; very dominated by British and American writers. Trying to broaden my horizons has led me to some delightful Japanese authors including most recently Yasunari Kawabata whose novel Snow Country I found utterly mesmerising.  

Lisa: Oh, such an impossible question! I’ll tweak it to choosing two standout Australian novels from the last month or two: a superb new novel called The Yield by Wiradjuri author Tara June Winch (which I reviewed during Indigenous Literature Week which I host every year), and Invented Lives by Andrea Goldsmith, a local Melbourne author who writes stunning contemporary novels that are always food for thought. 

My route to blogging began with learning how to do it for professional purposes, starting my LisaHillSchoolStuff blog to share resources with other teachers, and, truth be told, to pontificate in occasional rants about this and that. The ANZ LitLovers blog began as a site for an online book group to share their discussions, but that never worked out.  So I just kept it for my own thoughts about the books I read, which I was confident nobody else would ever read, and I was quite startled when I received a request to review a book. And to my astonishment, it just grew from there…

Qu. 5.) Finally – a favourite that might surprise people!

Karen: People who know me and follow my blog are aware that I don’t care much for science fiction, fantasy or anything that smacks of the supernatural. Yet one of my most enjoyable books of recent years was Station Eleven by Emily St John Mandel. If this is an example of science fiction writing at its best then I could become a convert.

Lisa: The Resurrection of Winnie Mandela by Sisonke Msmiang. This is a favourite because I’ve found myself talking about it such a lot.  Everyone knows Winnie, and everyone has an opinion about her, usually a negative one. But because I’d read The Cry of Winnie Mandela by Njabulo Ndebele (2003), which is about the impossible position of so many South African women under apartheid, waiting for long periods of time for the return of their husbands and expected to keep their own lives on hold indefinitely, I had been wondering what it would have been like to be married to a secular saint.

Sisonke Msimang explores this idea further in The Resurrection of Winnie Mandela where she makes the point that “We like our heroines to be courageous, but we don’t want them to be messy”. For me, Msimang’s book is what reading is about, challenging our ideas and making us thinks about the lives of others so different from our own.

What sort of reader do you think would choose these books? And which book would you recommend they read?

Lisa on Karen’s choices: My partner’s first two choices hint that we are perhaps of the same gender and approximate age…

Because Jane Eyre was chosen as a favourite book, I think that my partner has an instinct for compassion and an intense dislike of injustice and hypocrisy, while a lingering fondness for Jean Plaidy suggests that we share a romantic streak, with a possible fondness for cravats. 

However Daily Mirror Style, it seems, is not a home decorating handbook, but instead may have been a catalyst for a career as a writer of some sort… maybe working as a journalist exposing injustice and hypocrisy!

Perhaps such a career has prompted a yearning to escape urban life and its underbelly, because although I suspect my partner is British, she likes reading about other cultures.  So I think she has a taste for travel, with a preference for desolate landscapes thinly populated by people with doomed love lives. But my partner remains an optimist: even when reading a book out of her comfort zone, she is open to the possibility of human beings rising to the challenge when confronted with the end of civilisation.  

My partner is an open-minded reader, interested in people and places unlike her own, but her choices are all from northern latitudes. She seems to like classics, so I’m going to suggest an Australian classic: The Battlers by Kylie Tennant, a journalist who walked the roads with unemployed men during the Depression, and exposed the cruelty and injustice that these men suffered to a wider audience. The Battlers is Australia’s Grapes of Wrath and it’s never been out of print since published in 1941 —it’s a story about men on the road, driven by hope while looking for work, but unlike Steinbeck’s story, The Battlers features a feisty female travelling companion called Darcy.  

Karen on Lisa’s choices: This sounds like someone who reads widely, across genres and countries. They are interested in big ideas and enjoy thoughtful books which raise big questions. The list has some well-known titles but the inclusion of The Yield leads me to think this is a reader whose choice of books isn’t driven by publishing buzz. 

It’s tough to think of something that would suit their tastes but which they are unlikely to have already read. I’m going to recommend The Armies by the Colombian author Evilio Rosero. This was published in 2009 and won the International Foreign Fiction. It’s a short novel about a man caught in the crossfire between state forces, drug traffickers and guerrillas and facing a moral dilemma about his missing wife. 

My Life in Books: coming back next week!

As I accidentally gave away the other day – My Life in Books is coming back to Stuck in a Book next week!

I started the series back in 2010 – shamelessly stolen from a BBC series of the same name – where I asked book bloggers and book blog readers to talk through significant books from different periods in their lives. And then I swapped the lists of titles and asked them to comment on their (anonymous) interview buddy’s choices. Fun!

It’s back, with 12 more bloggers – two each day from Monday to Saturday – and the same as ever. The only difference is that I’ve asked them to recommend a book to their interview buddy. Who doesn’t love a book recommendation?

Please do join in the comments next week, and enjoy the series! I’ve certainly had a lot of fun reinstating it with a fresh batch of bloggers. And if you want to catch up with the previous five series, below are links to all of them – and the 70 (!!) people who have already taken part in My Life in Books!

I’m sure I’ll be back with another series next year – so let me know if you’d be interested in featuring in a future series.

Series One

Karen and Susan’s Life in Books
Lyn and Our Vicar’s Wife/Anne’s Life in Books
Lisa and Victoria’s Life in Books
Darlene and Our Vicar/Peter’s Life in Books
Annabel  and Thomas’s Life in Books
David and Elaine’s Life in Books
Harriet and Nancy’s  Life in Books

Series Two

Rachel and Teresa’s Life in Books
Claire and Colin’s Life in Books
Hayley and Karyn’s Life in Books
Jenny and Kim’s Life in Books
Danielle and Sakura’s Life in Books
Claire B and Nymeth/Ana’s Life in Books
Gav and Polly’s Life in Books
Eva and Simon S’s Life in Books

Series Three

Jackie and John’s Life in Books
Iris and Verity’s Life in Books
Tanya and Margaret’s Life in Books
Stu and Florence’s Life in Books
Lisa and Jane’s Life in Books
Laura and Jodie’s Life in Books
Frances and David’s Life in Books

Series Four

Pam and Peter’s Life in Books
Barbara and Lisa’s Life in Books
Vicki and Sasha’s Life in Books
Alison and Mystica’s Life in Books
My and Christine’s Life in Books
Alex and Liz’s Life in Books
Erica and Karen’s Life in Books

Series Five

Jenny and Eric’s Life in Books
Scott and Catherine’s Life in Books
Aarti and JoAnn’s Life in Books 
Belle
 and Tony’s Life in Books
Nicola and Barb’s Life in Books
Scott and Anbolyn’s Life in Books

A few bits and pieces

Oops, sorry if you got an incomplete ‘My Life in Books’ post in your inbox – I pressed publish before I’d written it – but it is a sneak preview that the series will be coming back next week! More information on that soon… I want to make sure the My Life in Books archives are up to date before I write too much about it.

Isn’t that all mysterious? If you were reading Stuck in a Book in 2014 or earlier, you might remember what it is. If not, then watch this space.

I’ve had a fairly frustrating week, book-wise. Or, rather, bookcase-wise. Argos have stopped making the bookcase that I have in my living room (I have five of them in here at the moment). I’ve shunted some furniture around to make room for one more, and now I have to get one that doesn’t match. Frustrating. So I thought I’d try on ebay. Success! I had to pay a bit extra, but could get the colour I wanted.

Only, when it turned up, it was the wrong colour and the wrong depth. I contacted the seller, and they very quickly responded, apologising for the mistake. They sent me another… that was the wrong colour (and the correct depth, at least). I contacted them again… and they said that Argos weren’t making that colour anymore.

So, essentially, this ebay seller was waiting for people to buy things, then just going to Argos and sending the product out – pocketing the difference. If I’d wanted that colour, I’d have bought it from Argos myself for less!

Anyway. Argos Man came and collected the two wrong bookcases, and I’m left with piles of books on the floor. If you know how I can get my hands on a Maine Tall Wide Bookcase – Putty (standard depth), then let me know…

But, other than that, it’s been a nice week for books. Quite a few long-awaited review books coming to the house – and a few that I just buckled and bought, truly having given up on my book-buying ban. And I guess they’ll just have to pile up on the floor until a new bookcase arrives…

Stuck in a Book’s Weekend Miscellany

Happy weekend, y’all! My bro is coming to visit, and one of my besties is having a leaving do, so it’s a weekend of ups and downs… I’m hoping to get some reading in there, and have picked up something for Women in Translation Month. More on that below, with the link, book, and blog post.

1.) The link – is a fun profile with Nina Stibbe in the New York Times that was doing the rounds on Twitter recently. She talks about Persephone and Backlisted, so we like her. AND she talks about Lolly Willowes, though I would dispute that it is a book “nobody reads anymore”…

2.) The blog post – is Paula at Book Jotter and her plan to read more books by and about Tove Jansson. Jansson is one of my all-time faves, and the Women in Translation Month choice I’ve made is Tove Jansson: Work and Love by Tuula Karjalaninen. I’ve had it for a few years, and it’s now been long enough since I read Boel Westin’s biography of Jansson that I fancy reading another.

3.) The book – lots of us loved Shaun Bythell’s The Diary of a Bookseller – well, I’m really excited to read Confessions of a Bookseller. And a review copy arrived this week, hurrah!

 

 

A Time to Dance, A Time to Die by John Waller

I don’t remember where I first found out about the dancing epidemic of 1518, but I know that I’ve read the Wikipedia page for it several times over the years. And finally I decided I should follow the notes at the bottom of the page, and get a copy of A Time to Dance, A Time to Die (2008) by John Waller. He’s written another book about the phenomenon, or possibly the same book under a different title – I can certainly see why it would fascinate a researcher.

In short, in 1518 France a woman started manically dancing. She seemed to be in something of a trance, and without much knowledge of what was going on. Gradually other people in her community started dancing too. Eventually dozens – possibly hundreds and thousands; accounts differ – of people were dancing alongside her. They danced for days, and many died of exhaustion. Why did it happen?

Waller does a great job of putting it in the context of other similar events from the medieval period. In different places across Europe, contagious dancing would spring up – not that often, and sometimes only with a handful of people, but 1518 certainly wasn’t an isolated incident.

One of the reasons that 1518’s dance epidemic turned out to be so protracted and have so many casualties is that physicians and religious figures actually encouraged the dancing. They believed that the dance was a curse from St Vitus (connected now with the medical condition known as St Vitus’s dance – apparently without reference to the 1518 event). And they suggested that the only way to placate St Vitus was to voluntarily dance. A bit of a Catch 22, no?

Waller is working with fairly minimal historical documents, some of which contradict each other. There are frustrating gaps in what is available. So it’s understandable that the account he gives has those same gaps – and that he has to be a bit repetitive with what he can say. But it’s such an interesting and intriguing event that that doesn’t really matter. Better Waller’s approach than that he tried to make things up or assume too much.

The final chapter looks at other instances of mass hysteria, autosuggestion, and psychological ailments over time. This is the chapter I wish had been extended a bit – because he covers so much so quickly, and with many different cultures, histories, and manifestations amalgamated. And Waller is certainly not of the perspective that there are more things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in his philosophy. I suppose I was not as willing as he was to rule out the involvement of God in some of these experiences. (Which is certainly not to say that I think St Vitus was cursing people – but I also believe not everything in this world can be explained without reference to God.)

I don’t know if I learned an enormous amount about 1518 that I hadn’t already garnered on Wikipedia, but Waller’s book benefits from much better contextualisation and some narrative storytelling spark. If the idea has caught your attention – maybe start on Wikipedia and see where it takes you?

The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood

My book group chose The Blind Assassin (2000) by Margaret Atwood for our read this month, and initially I wasn’t going to read it. That was partly because it was SIX HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SEVEN PAGES and partly because I once owned it, and gave it away unread. I didn’t want to buy another copy. But then I was at my friend Nana-Yaa’s house, and mentioned it – she revealed that it was her favourite book, and pressed a copy into my hands. I guess I had to read it. (But it was still SIX HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SEVEN PAGES.)

The main character is Iris Chase, looking back across her long life – though there are various other layers to it. The opening line is brilliant; one of the best I’ve read: “Ten days after the war ended, my sister Laura drove a car off a bridge.”

Laura is the author of a modern classic, called ‘The Blind Assassin’. It was only published after her death, and has grown in reputation, and Atwood puts large portions of the novel into her novel. Some chapters are modern Iris; some retrace her childhood and adulthood; some are excerpts from ‘The Blind Assassin’. To add to the complexity, ‘The Blind Assassin’ is about somebody creating the novel ‘The Blind Assassin’. Confused yet? Don’t worry, Atwood was an excellent handle on it all, and the reader is never baffled. She manages three different tones/voices well too – so the three layers of the novel feel distinct and confident. (The actual story-within-story-within-story is about a world where boys are blinded by making intricate carpets and then train as stealthy assassins; one is hired to kill a young woman who is to be sacrificed as part of a custom in this world.)

As Iris looks back on her life, we see the alienating and loveless marriage she enters to save her father’s business. We see how her relationship with her sister grows more and more strained, and there is a whole mystery around that.

Positives first: it’s very well written. Atwood has an unforced elegance here that was entirely lacking in The Handmaid’s Tale, to my mind. Some of the characters are wonderfully drawn – particularly Laura’s unkind sister-in-law. And I loved the way that the plot of ‘The Blind Assassin’ (level 2 of 3) explored the creative process of someone trying to balance of art and commerce, often very amusingly. All in all, I did like the book a lot.

But… it was SIX HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SEVEN PAGES. I couldn’t get that out of my mind, every time I picked it up. It sort of soured the reading experience for me, being so allergic to long books. And, like every book I’ve read that is over 600 pages (which is admittedly not many), it would have been better if it were a great deal shorter. I think The Blind Assassin, with its multiple layers, could perhaps have justified 400 pages. But so much of the background of Iris’s life could have been cut without losing anything. There is a lot of padding. And that length puts a lot of pressure on the end of a novel – and the various revelations in this one didn’t feel strong enough to support the weight of SIX HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SEVEN PAGES.

But you have to admire the confidence of Atwood, to call ‘The Blind Assassin’ a modern masterpiece and then write the book herself. At one point it is called Modernist, and it is definitely not Modernist. That was irksome.

So, I liked this. There’s a brilliant 400-page novel hidden in it somewhere. I suppose I should be grateful it’s not a terrible 800-page novel?

Diana Tempest by Mary Cholmondeley

I’ve mentioned before how great Simon Evers’ narration is at Librivox – the free audiobook site where out of copyright books are read by members of the public. Understandably, it’s a mixed bag – but Simon Evers is brilliant, so I’ve been downloading whatever he reads. And the latest was Diana Tempest (1893) by Mary Cholmondeley.

This wasn’t completely at random. I have previously read Cholmondeley’s Red Pottage, and thought it was brilliant. Diana Tempest does something similar – mixing sensation fiction with the sort of observational comedy of manners that we expect from a Jane Austen or Anthony Trollope. It feels like it shouldn’t work, but it does, and I found Diana Tempest very funny and often nail-bitingly intriguing.

We don’t meet either Diana for a while – for there are two of them. One is Colonel Tempest’s wife, who died in childbirth. The other is his daughter. She, Colonel Tempest, and his son Archie are all left without a fortune when Colonel Tempest’s brother dies. The money, instead, goes to his brother’s son, John – whom everybody knows is illegitimate. Everybody except the infant John, of course, and it is a fact he is not told.

Colonel Tempest is a very unpleasant character – greedy, unfeeling, and with the sense that the world is very hard on him. It’s unclear what the dead Diana saw in him, because she is described as rather wonderful – not only that, she was engaged to his brother before he whisked her away. You can see why there’s no love lost.

And Colonel Tempest gets carried away, saying that he’ll give £10,000 (about £850,000 is today’s money, according to the National Archives calculator – or 1031 cows) to anybody who can redirect the fortune to him. In effect, he has put a bounty on John’s life.

Fast forward a few years, and daughter Diana has grown up. She is a charming, witty, wise, and rather delightful heroine – in the mould of Lizzie Bennett. Like Lizzie, she despises the idea of marrying for money alone, and has a friend who is clearly doing this. And like Lizzie, she finds herself admired in several quarters.

One of these quarters is John – who has grown up to be a rather serious, moral man. He tries to keep his cousin Archie is check, but is usually paying off his debts. Oh, and he keeps having brushes with death – whether that be almost burning to death, nearly being shot, etc. etc. It seems that the people who are trying to win that £10,000 aren’t super good at their job.

I loved listening to this. Cholmondeley has such a witty, ironic turn of phrase. Of course, because it was audio I have no examples – but imagine Austen’s way of exposing the ridiculousness of society in general and hypocrites in particular. On the one hand, we wait to see if she and John will discover that the other has fallen in love – on the other, we follow Colonel Tempest as he tries to track down the would-be assassins and undo his command. Will the relationship succeed, or will the killers get their target?

My only criticism is that, like many Victorian writers, Cholmondeley is never in a hurry. Chapters often begin with several minutes (/pages) of general thoughts about mankind, ambling through enjoyable aphorisms before we get to the crux of the matter. It all added to the enjoyment of the style, but sometimes I did wish she’d just get on with it, and curtail the flourishes a little.

I’m sure it would be fun to read – and it’s definitely a delight to listen to. Much recommended!

Three more crimes

Specifically, three more British Library Crime Classics! Thanks to the British Library for sending these to me – I am keen to dive in, but I thought I’d give you all a quick intro to them before I choose which one to read. These tasters are all taken from the British Library website. Let me know which of these appeals the most!

Surfeit of Suspects by George Bellairs

“At 8 o’clock in the evening on the 8th November, there was a terrific explosion in Green Lane, Evingden.”

The offices of Excelsior Joinery Company are no more; the 3 directors are killed and the peace of a quiet town in Surrey lies in ruins. When the supposed cause of ignited gas leak is dismissed and the presence of dynamite revealed, Superintendent Littlejohn of Scotland Yard is summoned to the scene.

But beneath the sleepy veneer of Evingden lies a hotbed of deep-seated grievances. Confounding Littlejohn’s investigation is an impressive cast of suspicious persons, each concealing their own axe to grind.

Bellairs’ novel of small-town grudges with calamitous consequences revels in the abundant possible solutions to the central crime as a masterpiece of misdirection.

Deep Waters ed. by Martin Edwards

From picturesque canals to the swirling currents of the ocean, a world of secrets lies buried beneath the surface of the water. Dubious vessels crawl along riverbeds, while the murky depths conceal more than one gruesome murder.

The stories in this collection will dredge up delight in crime fiction fans, as watery graves claim unintended dwellers and disembodied whispers penetrate the sleeping quarters of a ship’s captain. How might a thief plot their escape from a floating crime scene? And what is to follow when murder victims, lost to the ocean floor, inevitably resurface?

This British Library anthology uncovers the best mysteries set below the surface, including stories by Arthur Conan Doyle, William Hope Hodgson and R. Austin Freeman.

Murder in the Mill-Race by E.C.R. Lorac

“Never make trouble in the village” is an unspoken law, but it’s a binding law. You may know about your neighbours’ sins and shortcomings, but you must never name them aloud. It’d make trouble, and small societies want to avoid trouble.

When Dr Raymond Ferens moves to a practice at Milham in the Moor in North Devon, he and his wife are enchanted with the beautiful hilltop village lying so close to moor and sky. At first they see only its charm, but soon they begin to uncover its secrets – envy, hatred and malice.

Everyone says that Sister Monica, warden of a children’s home, is a saint – but is she? A few months after the Ferens’ arrival her body is found drowned in the mill-race. Chief Inspector Macdonald faces one of his most difficult cases in a village determined not to betray its dark secrets to a stranger.

Stuck in a Book’s Weekend Miscellany

It’s sunny! I don’t have a cold! All the ingredients for a nice weekend are there. I hope your weekend is looking similarly nice, and that you have a nice pile of books ready to go. I’m finishing off a doorstopper for book group (note: set up a page limit for book club). Here’s your usual weekend miscellany trio:

 

1.) The book – The Remarkable Life of the Skin by Monty Lyman has just come out – it looks like a really interesting and accessible look at all the scientific and sociological implications of our skin. And, sidenote, Monty is a friend of mine. I’m gearing myself up to read it and hope that it isn’t too much for my squeamish soul.

2.) The link – is a month old now, but it’s a fun and encouraging look at the booksellers who are refusing to be beaten by Amazon.

3.) The blog post – is a follow up to a previous one – a round up of Sylvia Townsend Warner Reading Week. Lots of great links to reviews to hunt out!