My new favorite thing

Is Name that Contact. I can't get enough of it, and if you have a Flickr account I bet you will like it too. And if you don't, then make one. And be friends with me. And then I will have even more contacts from which to guess.

The Amateur Gourmet (2007)

I started reading Adam Robert's blog, The Amateur Gourmet, over four years ago when he posted about the creation of a cupcake that would commemorate Janet Jackson's errant Super Bowl boob. So I feel like I know him pretty well -- I knew him when he was an unsatisfied law student in Atlanta, I followed him to New York City where he earned his MFA in dramatic writing at NYU, and (although slightly jealous for his success), I was pretty happy when he got the book deal that resulted in The Amateur Gourmet: How to Shop, Chop, and Table Hop Like a Pro (Almost) (2007). [Where's my Spacebeer bookdeal, jerks?]

I really like Adam's blog (note: I usually don't refer to people I don't know by their first names, without an invitation to do so, but after four years of daily updates, I feel like we can skip the formalities). He is an adventurous cook, he posts interesting recipes, he takes great food pictures, and he has a creative and winning sense of humor. His openness and his goofiness draw the reader in and give the blog an informality and readability that is instantly charming.

Much of that same charm is present in the book, and I think it would appeal even to those who have never read his blog. Here Adam writes a series of essays that explore his own journey from only eating take out to cooking seven course meals for his friends. He opines on ordering in fancy restaurants, takes us to a master knife sharpener, and tries to get his friend who hates olives, coffee and stinky cheese to give them a try. And he even throws in some of his favorite recipes. It's all very readable and approachable and fun, particularly if the reader really is a beginner who hasn't thought through many of the issues or had many of the experiences that Adam recounts.

The weak part of the book (its hard to write about the weak part since Adam and I are such good pals) is the somewhat cutesy philosophies that weave in and out and close many of the chapters. These pop up on the blog sometimes too, but are worded less formally and come off more sincere and less stiff. I also really really miss the photographs that Adam posts to his blog -- somehow just imagining his food experiences isn't quite enough when you are used to four color evidence of every step.

So: I 100% recommend that you go read The Amateur Gourmet's blog. And if you like that, then you should check out the book too.

[Oh, and he also has his own Food Network video blog that should make me a little jealous, but actually makes me happy. Especially since he accidentally got to interview a drunken Anthony Bourdain. Mmmmm.]

Shoes for a Black Magic Woman

Were you aware that Carlos Santana has a line of women's shoes? How very incongruous! According to the website, the shoes "reflect the same passion and energy that is generated by Carlos Santana's music." Since they donate a portion of their profits to his foundation for underprivileged children, I can't giggle about it too much. But I can giggle a little.

Orlando (1928)

I think this is the fourth time I've read Orlando by Virginia Woolf (1928). I love Virginia Woolf and I really love this book. This time around I read it for the illustrious Smarter Than You Bookclub, at my own suggestion. I hope the other ladies like it too, but after this most recent read, I don't see how you couldn't just fall completely in love with this smart, funny, exciting and rewarding book.

Orlando starts his life out in the age of Queen Elizabeth as the son of a wealthy family who lives in a large estate in the English countryside. He grows up, falls in and out of love with society, falls in and out of (but mostly in) love with poetry, never loses faith in nature, and eventually (when he is thirty) takes an ambassadorship to Turkey to escape the attentions of a woman. And while he is there a very strange thing happens: he falls asleep, sleeps for a long time (during which there is a violent revolution all around him) and when he wakes up, he is a woman. No one is too surprised about this, least of all Orlando. She continues to do much the same things she did before, although some things are changed -- and Woolf delights in exploring why some things should be different as a woman than as a man. Luckily there is plenty of time for that since the book ends in 1928 and Orlando is only 36, even though she has been alive for 400 years. As Woolf writes:

And indeed, it cannot be denied that the most successful practitioners of the art of life, often unknown people by the way, somehow contrive to synchronize the sixty or seventy different times which beat simultaneously in every normal human system so that when eleven strikes, all the rest chime inn unison, and the present is neither a violent disruption nor completely forgotten in the past.

Orlando is not one of these people. In fact, her body and mind are so filled with times and personalities that it allows her to change gender and live for 400 years.

Woolf wrote Orlando while at the country estate of her beloved friend Vita Sackville-West. Woolf and Sackville-West were fascinated with each other and probably did have a few physical romantic encounters, although the overall evidence points to a more mental affair than a physical one. Vita Sackville-West's son, Nigel Nicolson calls Orlando "the longest and most charming love letter in literature," and it really is. Orlando is written as a biography (it even has an index!), and the pictures of Orlando as a woman are all actually pictures of Vita, Orlando's country estate is Vita's home, and many of the events and personalities of Orlando are based on Vita herself.

Nicolson wrote a really fascinating book about his mother, his father, and their devoted and unique marriage called Portrait of a Marriage (1973). If any of you bookclubbers are intrigued and want to borrow it, let me know -- it is a nicely structured balance between extracts from Vita's diary recounting her early life and her tumultuous affair with a woman and context, other sources, and history provided by Nicolson. There is also a bunch of Virginia Woolf stuff in there and the reaction of the Sackville family to the publication of the book.

And now three reasons why I also think Orlando is hilarious:

1. The Arch-duchess Harriet Griselda of Finster-Aahorn and Scandop-Boom in the Roumanian territory who pesters Orlando when she is a man, then pesters Orlando when she is a woman (as the Arch-duchess is really an Arch-Duke in disguise) and is only temporarily put off when Orlando cheats at Fly Loo and puts a frog down his shirt. [I just did a Google search for Fly Loo, which I thought Woolf had made up, but the game is perfectly described in this 1883 article in the New York Times. Who knew? (The Fly Loo bit is towards the top of the second column, but the whole thing is really worth reading. And like much journalism from the late 1800s, it is hard to tell if it is fact or fiction. Probably a bit of both. Thank you NYT for opening up your content!)]

2. Marmaduke Bonthrop Shelmerdine (who marries Orlando, but spends most of his time sailing dangerous waters)

3. Rattigan Glumphoboo (shorthand to describe "a very complicated spiritual state -- which if the reader puts all his intelligence at our service he may discover for himself.")

Whoo!

John linked to this too, but it is such a momentous occasion that I think the link bears repeating. I even teared up a few times.

Plus, it goes down in history as one of the few ceremonies to take place in a wrestling ring that doesn't end with an "unexpected" brawl.

Riunite

For the robots.



For the jingle.

Death at the Medical Board (1944)

Death at the Medical Board by Josephine Bell (1944 -- although this cover is the 1964 edition reissued by Ballantine), really couldn't be more wartime British. At every twist of the plot something turns around petrol rations, board reviews for military service, false doctor's certificates to avoid conscription, secret German spy rings, and the fact that it is apparently very hard to find lipstick in your favorite shade when the country is at war. Add to that the complicated inheritance rules surrounding British landowners with twin sons, and you have the makings of a rather complicated mystery on your hands.

Josephine Bell was a physician herself, and the medical parts of this mystery make it read like a 1940s CSI. In fact, our amateur-detective hero, David Wintringham (who is featured in many of Bell's books), is actually a doctor who just enjoys solving mysteries. Somehow his top-secret appointment for the war effort qualifies him to start investigating the mysterious death of Ursula Frinton, a young member of the local gentry who may or may not have had heart trouble and who drops dead at the Medical Board after being examined for war service. Her death is actually rather awesome (slight spoiler ahead, but it comes up rather early in the book so it doesn't give away too much): She gets it from a hypodermic needle filled with nicotine and embedded in her lipstick. When she twists the lipstick tube the needle is armed, and when she presses it to her lips, she is injected with the poisonous nicotine.

And then a bunch of other people start dying, and everyone seems to have a motive. Will Dr. Wintringham be able to solve the mystery before the murderer catches up to him? I'll just leave you in suspense on that one.

[And did you know that back-of-the-book advertisements work? I saw an ad for the recently (in 1964) released book Dewey Death by Charity Blackstock and I ordered up a copy from the wonderful Internet. Murder in the stacks! I can hardly wait...]

The new high

Try this: donate blood, then drink two tallboys even though they tell you not to drink after giving blood. Then watch Decasia. You may get sleepy at a few points during the movie, but it will make quite an impression and then give you crazy light-headed floaty dreams.

Sister Carrie (1900)

Sister Carrie (1900) was Theodore Dreiser's first book, and the tale of the small-town girl coming to the big city was loosely based on the experiences of Dreiser's sister. In Sister Carrie our protagonist takes the train from her small town in Wisconsin to the big city of Chicago in order to take the extra room in the apartment of her older sister and her family and to make her way in the world. She is 18, very pretty, not very curious and more than a little naive.

Carrie gets a job in a shoe factory, barely makes enough money to pay her rent, and pines for all the beautiful clothes she sees in the department stores on her long walk to work each morning. After losing her job due to illness, Carrie can't find more work and is on the verge of going back home when she reconnects with Charles Drouet, a dapper and smooth-talking salesman she met on the train to Chicago. Drouet sets Carrie up in an apartment and takes care of all her expenses. This seems to satisfy Carrie for awhile, but after meeting Drouet's much richer friend George Hurstwood, Carrie's eye begins to wander. Not really maliciously or hurtfully (since Carrie doesn't seem to think about anything strongly enough to really mean it), but enough to set Hurstwood on a path of adultery, crime and deception that eventually leads to a hasty retreat for both Carrie and Hurstwood from Chicago to the anonymity of New York.

Although originally published in 1900, Sister Carrie was buried by its publisher and had little success. After an extensive editing by Dreiser and his wife, a new version was published in 1912 to wider acclaim. Even in its edited version, the contemporary audience was shocked by the implied sex in the book and the lack of comeuppance for the immoral characters. It all seems pretty mild today, but you can see how a character like Carrie, no matter how naive and well-meaning she is supposed to be, who basically sleeps her way to comfortable living and attains fame and riches, could rub a turn-of-the-century audience the wrong way.

Although I loved the detailed descriptions of life in Chicago and New York, the philosophical/moralizing sections are insufferable, and the characterization is (probably intentionally) very two-dimensional. Carrie couldn't be more boring or unlikeable. The only things she gets excited about are new clothes and, to a lesser extent, her acting career (but really only to the extent that she can get more money). She lives with men for years without really seeming to care for them, to think about their pasts, or to ask any questions or show any interests in anything at all. So, when she is still melancholy at the end of the novel, despite her success on the stage (which is hilariously based on her ability to pout), I can't say I feel that bad for her.

Sister Carrie is definitely worth reading if you have the time, but if you don't, I'd probably start with one of Dreiser's other books...

[And the full text of Sister Carrie is available here if you'd like to give it a shot.]

Family Funtimes

Dr. M and I have survived and enjoyed another visit of family excitement. This time we interspersed our constant eating in restaurants with a visit to McKinney Falls State Park and a day out near Burnet, Texas at Longhorn Cavers State Park where we spent about an hour and a half in the caverns and a lot of time above ground enjoying the architectural wonders of the Civilian Conservation Corps (I love that stuff). San Antonio was sufficiently Eastery and my sister's boyfriend (who had the flu) and my dad were good enough sports to spend several hours walking around the fancy shopping center with me, my mom and my sister.

[full photo documentation here]

Now back to real life...

Visitized

I have removed all traces of dust, dirt and mildew from the apartment and am now ready to receive a visit from my family. Expect not a whole lot of posting as I spend all my time eating at restaurants, walking through state parks, and Eastering it up in San Antonio.

Wrestlemania!

What 1985 event involved Liberace, Muhammad Ali, Hulk Hogan, Cyndi Lauper, Mr. T, and the Rockettes; made ample use of the previously unknown verbs "crotched" and "Pearl Harbored"; and featured persons from Parts Unknown? Why Wrestlemania 1, of course!

Watch the Wendi Richter (with Cyndi Lauper in her corner) vs. Leilani Kai (with the Fabulous Moolah) match right now while it's still up on You Tube.

And this guy's review of Wrestlemania 1 is great and truly shows how the Internet was made for wrestling fans.

Thank you Netflix for promising to deliver every single Wrestlemania to our door. I can hardly wait for the next one to arrive...

Wrack and Ruin by Don Lee (2008)

I got an advanced copy of Don Lee's upcoming novel Wrack and Ruin (April 2008) through the LibraryThing Early Reviewers program (which I will once again mention is super awesome). This is Lee's third novel, and has been compared by the publishers and other reviewers to Michael Chabon and the movie Sideways. I can see the basis for these comparisons, and I'd also add in a dash of Tom Robbins. Is that good? College-aged-Spacebeer would certainly think so, but thirty-something-Spacebeer is not so sure.

Wrack and Ruin, centers around Lyndon Song, a former golden-boy of the art world who gave it all up with no explanation to live an isolated life as a Brussels sprout farmer in a small, coastal, Central-California town. He is in the middle of an extended fight with a large corporation that is building a luxury resort and golf course in the area and needs his land to complete the 18th hole. Lyndon, of course, refuses to sell. To further complicate things, Lyndon's estranged, huckster, film-producing brother Woody has come for a barely-announced visit with the drunken, violent and aging Hong Kong film star Ling Ling in tow. Woody and Lyndon haven't been on speaking terms since Lyndon lost all their parent's money in some kind of financial shenanigans. To the core story of the mismatched brothers we add several lovers, a bunch of pot, philosophical discussions of Buddhism, a take-down of the pressures of the art world, and a wry look at both environmentalists and yuppie corporate types.

So: there is a lot going on here. Lee does a nice job of keeping all the parts of the story up in the air, and the book reads quickly and is very entertaining. However, the dialogue and characters are, sometimes, a little too quirky and glib and the philosophical moments don't always fit tightly with the rest of the book. The ending isn't entirely satisfying, but overall the book is a fun read and worth checking out. Especially if someone sends it to you for free...

MacBooked

Aw shit, I accidentally bought a MacBook today! Well, not accidentally since Dr. M was required to get one for school and our main computer has been acting squirrelly lately, but it was sort of an impulse buy to get it today. I am also proud to let you know that I successfully set up a wireless network with no problems. I think I just needed a distraction....

And just look at how distracted I am!

The Skylark of Space, 1928

The Skylark of Space (1928) is the first in E. E. "Doc" Smith's Skylark series. He wrote the book between 1915 and 1921 with his friend Lee Hawkins Garby, the wife of one of his college classmates, while working on his doctorate and later as a food chemist. The Skylark series is known as the first great space opera, and (as you might expect) it reads like a model of the genre.

Our handsome, smart, and honorable hero, government scientist Richard Seaton, accidentally discovers a powerful reaction when he mixes a newly discovered element X (distilled from a meteor) with some copper and some kind of unexplained force field -- when everything comes together, the copper tub in which he was experimenting with the materials shoots out of the room in a straight line, blasts a big hole through the wall, and heads for the horizon. Instead of worrying who might get hit with the super-powered tub, he does more experiments, and even though none of his lab buddies believe him, he knows he is on to something big.

Seaton sets up a business to explore the possibilities of this new discovery with his friend, and fellow handsome, smart and honorable guy, Martin Crane (who also happens to be a billionaire), and their first plan (naturally) is to build a spaceship that can be powered by their element X. They are supported by the beautiful, smart and honorable fiance of Seaton, Miss Dorothy Vaneman, who provides plucky attitude, practical advice, foodstuffs, and occasional violin solos.

Unfortunately, the two are hounded by the handsome, smart, and dishonorable scientist Marc DuQuesne -- a former colleague of Seaton who wants to monopolize the development of element X, and will go to any lengths to do so. After awhile Dorothy is kidnapped, another girl enters the story (don't worry, she is beautiful, smart, and honorable), and everyone one ends up billions and billions of light years from earth in an unidentified galaxy with no fuel.

That is where the fun starts.

It takes him awhile, but Smith is at his best when making up crazy new worlds and alternate near-human universes. The second half of the book is full of them, and he even throws in an exciting space battle.

And don't worry, things turn out okay -- otherwise who could we follow over to Skylark Three!

[Back cover available here for completest sorts.]

Suggested Reading

Nicholson Baker's recent article about Wikipedia in the New York Review of Books has gotten me all pumped up. I love the leaf-pile metaphor and the personal dissection of Deletionism vs. inclusionism. Read it!

Why I am skeptical of bangs

My hair looked weird like this for about ten years of my life, until I figured out the secret of growing it all one length. Lately I have given into the idea of very long bangs and am controlling them much better than I did in the third grade. See more nostalgic photos from my youth here. And thank pinprick for this journey back in time, which actually made me wish I had more of my embarrassing childhood pictures available for scanning...

Spin spaz

As an archivist and a vaguely politically aware person I have a lot of doubts about the security and reliability of electronic voting as it is currently practiced, but damn it if it isn't fun to spin that little dial around. I'd vote ten times if I could just to hear that little clicky noise and have the fun of pressing a big "Cast Ballot" button.

Unfettered Spacebeer

Dr. M has left me alone for a few days, so I am able to be the real me -- unhampered by the needs and wants of my robusband. In no particular order, this is apparently what the real me wants to do:

1. Eat a big bowl of green beans.
2. Watch a movie and pause it whenever I want. Even if I just want to check my email.
3. Have another cocktail.
4. Sing the same line of a song over and over again as I wander around the apartment.
5. Play another round of Text Twist (which I suck at, but can't stop playing for some reason).
6. Eat a big bowl of broccoli.
7. Clean the bathroom.
8. Rewatch several episodes of the Ben Stiller Show (which zips me right back to the early nineties. And is only about half good. But the good parts are great: "I am not a robot!").
9. Try to decide what to listen to when I can't just listen to the Ipod on shuffle.
10. Have another cocktail.

Hamilton Stark

In Russell Banks' 1978 novel Hamilton Stark, the reader meets the title character, a drunken, brutish New Hampshire pipefitter who has been married and divorced five times, kicked his mother out of her own house, and loves to get into bar fights. Well, we don't exactly meet him since he has mysteriously disappeared, leaving behind a car with bullet-holes in the windshield and a locked up house, but we hear an awful lot about him from his biggest fan: our narrator.

Hoping to convince us of the philosophical purity of Stark's life, the narrator twists together interviews with Stark's ex-wives, his own experiences with Stark, long sections from a novel by Stark's daughter (with whom the narrator had a brief affair) based on her father's life, and his own lengthy discussions about Stark with his lonely neighbor. And of course the novel as a whole isn't even about Stark (which is a pseudonym the narrator uses for his novel), it is actually about A., the "real" man who the narrator worships for his uncompromising rejection of society and natural inclinations. And really, in the end, the book isn't even about A. Instead it is about our narrator.

This is Banks' first novel and he uses an experimental style that goes well with the story. Although the constant switching of tactics and retracing of steps is distancing, as a reader I didn't mind being held at arms length from this confused and untrustworthy narrator and his misogynistic hero. And although experimental, the novel is overall very engaging and follows a pretty straight narrative once you dig down into it.

Banks wrote the novels on which the movies Affliction and The Sweet Hereafter were based, and I'd be more than happy to check out some of his other work...

Fire Roasted Love Crackers

My new true love.

Eeeeeeeee

I don't know why, but I totally want an ASUS Eee, even though it has potentially the dumbest name of any product on earth. I've got zero flexibility in my budget right now, and it would be dumb to buy one when we are going to buy Dr. M a Macbook for his school this summer, but just look how cute and tiny they are! Plus all solid-state construction and full of Linux and Open Office. And tiny! And this one is under $300!

But does anyone actually own one of these? Are they really as cute and nice as they look? I should probably file this next to a Roomba in the neat-gadgets-I-will-probably-never-buy box.

Tiny!

Craze: Gin and Debauchery in an Age of Reason

I have been really good about not going out and buying books lately, but when Craze: Gin and Debauchery in an Age of Reason (2002) by Jessica Warner was listed in my favorite discount book catalog from which I just happened to be buying legitimate Christmas gifts, I couldn't say no. Basically if you have debauchery in your subtitle, I am in.

In this book Warner gives the reader a social and political history of the effects of gin on English culture in the mid-1700s -- primarily as it was legislated through the Gin Acts of 1729 through 1751. Although distilled liquor (or "strong water") had been around since the fifteenth century, it wasn't until the 1700s that methods of cheaply distilling liquor from local grains came to England. Before that the poor drank beer and ale, and plenty of it (Warner quotes the national average at 30 gallons a year) -- hard liquor was mostly imported and mostly for the rich. That all changed when gin came to town at a time when wages were slightly higher than usual. The working poor made room in their bellies and budgets for plenty of gin (2 gallons per person per year, at its peak -- and they didn't drink less beer, they just added on the gin), and this made the upper classes a little nervous. Why can't the poor be happy with beer and gruel? Why do they have to want gin and imported coffee? [Just take a look at this side-by-side comparison of William Hogarth's "Gin Lane" and "Beer Street" prints and decide where you would rather live....] If they don't produce tons of healthy children, who will fight our wars? Single women are getting drunk and causing trouble! Aren't they getting kind of uppity? All these questions and more bounced around the halls of Parliament. To complicate matters, all that gin was heavily taxed by the government, and the government really really needed the tax money to pay for a series of long wars.

These conflicts resulted in a series of more and less stringent Gin Acts that hoped to both curb the amount of gin sold to the working poor (and the amount of unlicensed street hawkers selling that gin), and to increase the amount of tax money coming into government coffers. None of the legislation really worked though, and the primary result was more drinking with the added fun of occasional riots and mob justice for the informers who made their living testifying against unlicensed gin sellers.

The details of the various gin acts and their political motivations can get a little dull, and because of a real lack of documentation of the lives and thoughts of the poor in this time period the examples and narratives that Warner constructs are often repeated and frustratingly short on detail. Warner does a nice job of drawing on contemporary newspaper accounts and court records, and fleshes out the story as much as she can through biographies and memoirs written by politicians and authors of the era.

And I learned that no 18th century newspaper was complete without a pun-filled poem opining on the news of the day. Better journalism through poetry!

I'm moving to Beer Street. I'll see you jerks later.

Ruggles of Red Gap

Since it isn't on DVD, you might have to go to a little effort to see it, but go out right now and find yourself a copy of Leo McCarey's Ruggles of Red Gap (1935) with Charles Laughton. Bits from this perfectly pitched comedy keep coming back to me and making me laugh (even though this has been a pretty crappy week). Laughton plays Ruggles, a perfect English butler who has the misfortune of being lost by his master in a poker game. His new master and mistress are from the frontier town of Red Gap, Washington. In America. Ruggles is not pleased, but being an uncomplaining English sort he goes along with it.

The relationships between Ruggles, his rootin' tootin' new master, and his stuffy new mistress highlight all that is good and bad about Americans. And, appropriately enough for this President's Day weekend, there is a climactic scene where Ruggles recites the Gettysburg Address in a saloon that is actually pretty moving. Although the best part of the movie might be when Ruggles inadvertently gets really drunk in Paris...

The only clip I could find from the movie is this charming exchange between Roland Young (who plays George Vane Bassingwell, the Earl of Burnstead -- Ruggles' English employer) and Leila Hyams (who astute viewers might recognize from Todd Browning's 1932 movie Freaks), a dance hall girl with whom the Earl is smitten. It is a pretty great clip, and Young's delivery is hilarious, but I wish I could find something with Charles Laughton in it...


This story, based on the 1915 book by Harry Leon Wilson (which you can read in its entirety here), was filmed several times, but I think the 1935 version looks like the best one. And even though Fancy Pants might be a better title, Bob Hope is certainly no Charles Laughton.

From me to you

[Joolie is way better at this than I am, but to be fair all I have is Paint, no patience, and a shaky mouse hand... Still, it's better than some tacky jewelry or stale chocolates, right?]

Black Ships

I received an advance copy of Black Ships by Jo Graham (March 2008) via the always wonderful LibraryThing Early Reviewers program. The way the Early Reviewers group works is, you request books you would be interested in reading from a list of available titles, then the magic of LibraryThing analyzes your current library, runs a few crazy algorithms, and matches you up with one of the titles. If you are lucky. Since I like to read pretty much anything, I tend to request all the fiction and a good chunk of the available non-fiction titles too. So, when this copy of Black Ships showed up, I initially thought I had made a poor selection. I mean, just check out the description:

The world is ending. One by one the mighty cities are falling, to earthquakes, to flood, to raiders on both land and sea. In a time of war and doubt, Gull is an oracle. Daughter of a slave taken from fallen Troy, chosen at the age of seven to be the voice of the Lady of the Dead, it is her destiny to counsel kings. When nine black ships appear, captained by an exiled Trojan prince, Gull must decide between the life she has been destined for and the most perilous adventure — to join the remnant of her mother's people in their desperate flight. From the doomed bastions of the City of Pirates to the temples of Byblos, from the intrigues of the Egyptian court to the haunted caves beneath Mount Vesuvius, only Gull can guide Prince Aeneas on his quest, and only she can dare the gates of the Underworld itself to lead him to his destiny. In the last shadowed days of the Age of Bronze, one woman dreams of the world beginning anew. This is her story.

An oracle named Gull? Pirates? Princes? I thought maybe I had fallen down into the slippery slope of fantasy writing. Would there be dragons in this thing? Who knows?

Luckily I am ultimately an open-minded reader and I gave Black Ships a shot. And you know what? It was really a very compelling and fun to read book. And much smarter than I initially thought it would be.

Graham based her debut novel on Virgil's Aeneid -- the struggle of the Trojans who fled their dying city (after the whole Trojan horse thing), went off in ships and had a bunch of adventures, and ended up founding Rome. Our narrator, Gull, has the unique position of being a woman who all the men will listen to (since she is a priestess). And since priestesses are allowed to have lovers and bear children (just not get married) she also gets herself into a tidy little love triangle with a ship's captain and Prince Aeneas himself. Nice. Combine all that with some interesting history (and Graham really did her research), a trip to Egypt, a smattering of Greek mythology, and a whole lot of ship-sailing and battle fighting, and you end up with a pretty nice little novel.

Black Ships won me over completely. Early Reviewers, I will never doubt the power of your algorithms again!

Unmitigated Humbug

Advertised in the Louisville Weekly Journal, August 14, 1855. All spelling, punctuation, and poetry reproduced as printed.

The Bliss of Marriage – The Way to the Altar

Matrimony Made Easy, or How to Win a Lover, a book of 160 pages. Price $1….

"Love rules the court, the camp, the grove / For love is Heaven, and Heaven is Love." / So sang the bard; yet thousands pine / For love – of life the light divine – / Who, did they know some gentle charm, / The hearts of those they love to warm, / Might live, might die, in bliss supreme / Possessing all of which they dream. / The road to wedlock would you know? / Delay not, but to RONDOUT go. / Time flies, and from his gloomy wings / A shadow falls on living things; / Then seize the moments as they pass / Ere fall the last sands through the glass; / At least the present is your own, / While all the future is unknown. / A happy marriage man or maid / Can now secure by RONDOUT's aid.

Professor RONDOUT, of New York, where he has been the means of bringing about thousands of happy marriages, will send to any address, on receipt of ONE DOLLAR, post-paid, plain directions to enable Ladies or Gentlemen to win the devoted affections of as many of the opposite sex as they may desire. The process is so simple, but so captivating, that all may be married, irrespective of age, appearance, or position; and last, though not least, it can be arranged with the utmost ease and delicacy.

This is decidedly the most fascinating, interesting, and really useful and practical work on Courtship, Matrimony, and the duties and delights of Married Life that has ever been issued from the American press. The artificial social system which in so many instances prevents a union of hearts, and sacrifices to conventionalism the happiness and even the lives of thousands of the young and hopeful of both sexes, is thoroughly analyzed and exposed. Every one who contemplates marriage and wishes for an infallible guide in the selection of a partner for life, should purchase this great text-book of connubial felicity.

N. B. This is no humbug, but one of the greatest sciences the world ever produced, which thousands of ladies and gentlemen in the city of New York can attest to. No one will ever regret the price paid for such an invaluable secret; which is contained in a book of 160 pages, with all the necessary directions….

All that is necessary for you to do is to write a letter in as few words as possible, inclose the money, and write the name with the post-office, county, and State…

***
And for extra fun, check out this contemporary review of Professor RONDOUT's work from Humbug: A Look at Some Popular Impositions by S. F. French (1859). [Thanks to Harvard and dear Google Books, the digitization megalord that librarians love to hate.] The whole book is great, but at the very least do yourself a favor and check out the table of contents. You will not be disappointed.

The House That Stood Still

Once again I was seduced into buying an A. E. Van Vogt book by the awesome cover. How could I resist this? The House That Stood Still was originally published in the 1950s, and it should be no surprise to you that this printing came out in 1971. Totally psychedelic, man!

As you may remember, I was not totally wowed by the only other Van Vogt book I've read (which I apparently read last February -- February is Van Vogt month in Spacebeer-land!), although I still thought it (and its cover) were worthwhile. The House That Stood Still was a much more enjoyable story and I give it an enthusiastic recommendation that goes beyond the awesomeness of the crazy rainbow-colored woman-house with an eye-bridge on the cover.

The most interesting thing about this book is that it is hardly a science fiction book at all, even though Van Vogt is one of the best known science fiction writers of the 40s and 50s. Instead, the book reads like a noir-y California detective novel. I have no problem with this since I happen to love noir-y California detective novels.

Our hero, Allison Stephens, is a lawyer for one of the oldest families in Almirante, California, whose ancestral home is an imposing marble structure that looks over the town and the ocean from a high hill. The head of the family dies and an unknown nephew takes his place -- but as soon as the new guy gets to town, strange things start happening to Allison. First he is confronted with an anonymous note claiming that the uncle's grave is empty. Then he comes across a strange Ancient-Mexican cult in one of the offices in the family-owned office building where he works -- he overhears some cryptic conversation and bursts in to stop them from whipping a beautiful woman. This woman ends up popping up unexpectedly into Allison's life over and over again and sleeping with him (in some of the truly vaguest and yet somehow salacious sex scenes ever). His desire for the mysterious woman, and his obligation to protect the interests of his client, lead him deeper and deeper into the secrets of the house, and into the world of a group of dozens of immortals that have lived in and near the house since the days when ancient Mexican civilizations ruled the California coast.

Oh, and there is also a thwarted nuclear attack and a robot spaceship, but I wouldn't want to give away too much.

Here is the back cover (with a rather misleading description of the book that makes it sound way more traditionally science-fiction-y than it really is). And here is the quite awesome personalized embossing I found in my copy. I would love one of those things. You better believe I'd be embossing everything in sight.

Here's to appropriate fashion choices

Sir,

Your cool too-tight rocker black jeans and ironic shrunken t-shirt might look nice as you slink between clubs on Red River, but they look pretty lame when you are riding your bike home in the afternoon and showing everyone your pasty ass as you hunch over your handlebars. That is why real rockers ride the bus.

love,

Spacebeer

Nicholas and Alexandra

I bought my copy of Nicholas and Alexandra by Robert K. Massie (1967) for a dollar at the short-lived BookRack used book store at 70th and Van Dorn in Lincoln, probably while I was in high school. Seeing as I love books about royal families and have always been a little bit fascinated by the totally odd Rasputin, I'm not sure why I hadn't read it before this.

Massie's interest in the Last Tsar of Russia and his family started with the disease of hemophilia -- a disease shared by the Tsar's son, Alexis, and Massie's own son. The central thesis of Massie's book is that, while the causes of the Russian Revolution were naturally very complicated, the fact that the Heir to the throne had a life-threatening disease spurred the fall of the empire. If the Tsarevich wasn't a hemophiliac, his mother never would have relied on Rasputin to the extent that she did, and his influence on the royal family would have been small, if not non-existent. However, since the Empress saw Rasputin as the only person who could ease her son's pain and stop his fits of bleeding, the empire was in his weird, religious, hypnotic, sex-obsessed hands.

It's actually not a bad argument, and although Massie gives a sometimes overly-sympathetic portrait of the Tsar and his family (while ignoring much of the social and political context of Russia in the early-20th century), he ends up providing us with a thoughtful and sensitive portrait of Nicholas, Alexandra and their five children not as politicians, rulers, or pawns in an ideological struggle, but as a tight-knit family who really didn't deserve the ending they got. And regardless of how inevitable the Russian Revolution might have been, the ultimate execution of the entire royal family could have been prevented in a million ways. The last section of the book is rather rough reading as each and every avenue of escape is closed off due to disorganization, miscommunication, cowardice, or lack of responsibility.

Oddly enough, just as I was starting this book, Dr. M and I watched Aleksandr Sokurov's Russian Ark, which is filmed entirely in the Hermitage in St. Petersberg, which was formerly the Winter Palace and a home of the Tsar and his family. [The movie is famous for being done entirely in one shot, and it really is amazing to watch -- you should totally rent it.]

If you (like me) love looking at old pictures and artifacts, you will drool over the massive online Romanov-related exhibits on (and linked from) this site. The awesome thing about reading a history book about famous people who lived after the dawn of photography is that you aren't shackled to the few pictures in the center of the book since Google Image Search can show you a picture of any minor historical character in which you might be interested. How about Mathilde Kschessinska, the famous ballerina that had a long affair with the young Tsar, or Natalie Cheremetevskaya, the twice-divorced commoner that married the Tsar's younger brother, almost lost him his royal appointment and very nearly became empress after the abdication of Nicholas. No problem. I love that...

Now for a few facts that I can't help but share:

• The reign of Nicholas and Alexandra got off to a bad start when a celebration in Khodynka Meadow the day after the coronation turned into a blood bath after rumors that there wouldn't be enough free beer for everyone gathered turned into a mad rush for the beer carts. Hundreds were killed and thousands injured.
• The Tsar had a private librarian whose job was to select twenty of the best books from around the world each month (since the Tsar spoke and read many languages), which the Tsar would then carefully arrange in order of preference.
• Although he spoke Russian to everyone else, Nicholas always spoke and wrote to his wife in English. Alexandra was a German Princess, but she was also the grand-daughter of Queen Victoria and spent much of her youth in England. Thus her English was always stronger than her Russian.
• When Alexandra finally gave birth to a son (and Heir) after having four girls, the country was ecstatic. At his baptism, he was carried to the alter by an elderly woman who had carried young royals to their baptism for years. Since everyone was worried that the old woman might drop the Tsarevich, a special golden support harness was fastened to her shoulders and around the basinette.
• The house in which the royal family was executed housed the archives of the local Communist party in the 1950s. Massie notes that the basement room in which the killing took place was "now occupied by dusty bins filled with old documents."
  

So, while this was a fun-to-read and interesting history of the last Tsar and the fall of Russia, I feel like I'll need to read a few more books in order to get a more balanced look at the whole thing. Still (as you can see from this really long post), I liked the book a lot and would recommend it to anyone with an interest in this intriguing royal family.

Ain't it satisfactory?

It is entirely possible that I have spent too much time over the past week looking at old missionary magazines and Christian newspapers for early-20th-century youth. But who could resist these jokes? Note that 80% of the humor comes from funny dialects and 20% comes from horrible puns. Spacebeer Industries is not responsible for offending any Scotsmen or Christian Scientists. Headlines and jokes transcribed in all their glory:

[From Onward, a weekly illustrated paper for young people.]

(from 1911)

Mummies the Word
"What's in here?" asked the tourist.

"Remains to be seen," responded the guide, as he led the way into the mummy-room.

A Countermand
A man is said to have written to a certain mail order house, on a postal card, as follows:

Dere Surs – I see yore advertisement. I wisht you would send me as soon as possebul yore caterlog of Elecktrical Goods, and Oblige. / Yours Truly, _______ / P. S. Never mine – you needen send it. I have changed my mine.

Crazy Ticket Agent
Clancy – Oi'm after a ticket ter Chicago.

Ticket Agent – Do you want an excursion Ticket? One that will take you there and back?

Clancy – What's the since of me payin' ter go there an' back when I'm here alriddy?

Keeping Tab on the Dentist
A Scotchman at the dentist's was told that he must take gas. While the dentist was getting it ready the Scot began to count his money.

The dentist said, somewhat testily, "You need not pay until the tooth is out."

"I ken that," said the Scotchman, "but as y're aboot to mak me sleep I jist want to see hoo I stand."

And No Longer
The long young person had just submitted his manuscript to the editor.

"Do you think I can get by with it?" he asked.

"Yes," said the editor after a long pause. "It's all right, as long as it is against the law to hit a man with a baseball bat.

(from 1913)

Couldn't Fool Fido
"Mamma, I just now fell down stairs and hit every stop all the way down!" exclaimed little Mary, who attends the Christian Science Sunday-school.

"Did you hurt yourself, dear?"

"No, mamma; I kept saying, 'Truth, truth, truth!' every step I hit, and I didn't hurt myself a bit. But I had Fido in my arms when I fell, and I think he is pretty badly hurt."

"What makes you think so, dear?"

"Why, every step we hit he yelled, 'Error, error, error!'"

He "Did" Them
"Did you hear about the defacement of Skinner's Tombstone?"

"No; what was it?"

"Someone added the word 'friends' to the epitaph."

"What was the epitaph?"

"'He did his best.'"

Goods back, Money refunded
Guide (before statue in museum) – "This piece of work that you are now looking at goes back to Praxiteles."

Visitor – "What's the matter? Ain't it satisfactory?

Field trip!

Dr. M and I took a little field trip to Kyle, Texas this weekend as research for a writing project about Katherine Anne Porter that he is doing for school. On the list of things to see was the house Porter grew up in (now the Katherine Anne Porter Literary Center), and three of the town's cemeteries, one of which contains the remains of Porter's paternal grandparents who helped raise Porter in Kyle after the death of her mother.

Although we were mostly respectful amongst the dead of Kyle, and tried really hard not to walk on any graves or trip over any headstones, we did occasionally turn into junior high kids and break into giggles over hilarious names. Like this one. And this one. Who are buried right next to each other. In this family plot. It's like they buried them that way as part of an elaborate joke...

We also ate very tasty sandwiches at a little cafe on Center street. I had chicken salad. Plus they graciously stayed open a little late so we could eat our sandwiches there instead of out in our car.

See all the wondrous photos from our trip here.

"Directly abreast with the times."

[click to enlarge]

From the Boy Crusader’s Pledge (1914):

Young Man, Keep Clean Inside
The man or boy who pollutes society with unclean speech or vulgar story should be branded as a criminal, for criminal that thing is. The filthy suggestiveness of an improper story will soak into the memory as spilled ink soaks into blotting paper. Allow no man to drag your mind through a sewer. Keep your mind sullied. It is of more importance to keep the dirt off the soul than to keep it off the clothes.

See more exciting ads from the backs of early 20th century missionary magazines here!

Mmmmmm

This just in: Dr. M makes an awesome spicy shrimp salad. Don't you wish he was your husband?

Quarantine

I just finished reading Quarantine by Jim Crace (1997) as part of the infamous Smarter Than You Bookclub. This book takes place 2000 years ago or so in a little land called Judea. Five pilgrims have come out into the desert for 40 days of fasting: Marta, a barren wife hoping to give birth to a child; Aphas, an old man hoping to have his cancer cured; Shim, a proud scholar hoping to prove his connection to god; Badu, a deaf-mute guy that we really don't learn much about (except that he is a good hunter); and a young man from Galilee that you might have heard of -- Jesus. These pilgrims stumble onto the temporary camp of Musa, a traveling merchant, and his pregnant wife, Miri. Musa has a horrible fever and the two have been abandoned by their caravan.

After an off-hand, and rather accidental, curing of his fever by Jesus, Musa sees an opportunity to make some money from the pilgrims by charging them rent and selling them food and water when they break their fast at dusk. Miri is not that happy about Musa being cured, since he is a major jerk and she thought she was finally free of him. All the pilgrims fast together except for Jesus, who finds his way into an inaccessible cave where he refuses to speak to the other pilgrims, heal anyone else, or accept any of the food.

The conflicts between the pilgrims and the merchant, and their differing personalities, make for a very engaging and fast-paced story. You might have some idea of how things turn out with Jesus, although the way in which his fast concludes is a little more interesting than you might expect.

The basis for Crace's novel comes from a brief discussion of the temptation of Christ in the desert during his 40 day fast (mentioned in Matthew, Mark, and Luke). I'm not religious at all, and certainly no biblical scholar, but I like what Crace did with the story of Jesus and his fast. I think a theologian would have a lot of fun with this novel, and that people with a casual (or even anti-) interest in Jesus would enjoy it as well. Our fictional Jesus is more human than divine -- alternatively doubtful and proud, both sympathetic and off-putting, and a skinny daydreamer who has to pee a lot but holds it in sometimes as a sacrifice to god. I probably have more to say, but I'll save it for the bookclub.

[Do any of you STYBCers want to borrow my copy?]

Nerd Alert

Right now it is 43 degrees Fahrenheit outside with 43% humidity, and this makes me super happy. Even more happy than when I look at the clock right at 11:11.

StuPd

Along the same lines of the buzzings pet peeve: why would a financial institution with a nice, solid name like Washington Mutual decide to change its name to the dumb sounding WaMu? I can't even say WaMu without sounding like an asshole. Is that what Washington Mutual wants from us? Do they think we can't remember two words so instead they'll just give us two syllables?

Luckily I bank at the totally solid credit union, so I don't have to worry about abbreviations -- just nice friendly acronyms like UFCU.

Kitchen Confidential or a Big Welcome to Secret Boyfriend #51

Oh Anthony Bourdain, you are such a sexy bad-boy chef. You deserve your place on the mantel of Secret Boyfriendom, even though my weekly excursion to SB-land has stopped. Welcome to the club...

And thanks to two awesome dudes, Dr. M and I received a copy of the book that brought you to the public eye, your memoir and insider's look at the professional kitchen -- Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly (2000).

This book is as sexy and fun to read as the adventurous and charismatic Bourdain is to watch. He takes us on a tour of his career, from his first job washing dishes in Cape Cod and his stint at the Culinary Institute of America, to a never-ending series of rises and falls through a variety of high and low-end chef jobs -- nameless restaurants that failed, and named restaurants that went on to succeed without him. Along the way, we get a look at what it is that a professional chef does with his day: how orders are procured, how the line works, how staff is handled, and how specials are thought up. Most of all, we share Bourdain's infectious love of good food, dismissal of pretentiousness, and the difficult but rewarding life of a professional chef.

In the end, we merge with Bourdain as the executive chef of Brasserie Les Halles in New York, and then send him off to his impending career as celebrity food raconteur and TV personality. And of course, his greatest honor of all: a place on the Spacebeer Secret Boyfriend Hall of fame.

On Flocking to a Fire, circa 1928

Some helpful advice from the front page of the Bryan Daily Eagle, August 28, 1928:

The People’s Column

Attention of our people has been called to the ordinance which forbids automobiles from rushing to fires when the alarm is sounded and to park in the proximity of the blaze. This may seem like a needless restriction at first glance, but it is of utmost importance. In many instances the sparks will fly around and might take such a turn that the presence of spectators would hamper the fire boys in extinguishing the flames. Flocking to a fire is really a “Hick-town” custom that has about passed out with the advent of the radio and other new discoveries. If spectators could do any good at the fires the humanitarian appeal would be strong, but in reality they only hinder and never help. Let’s observe this law.

And an unrelated headline, also on the front page: “Murder Orgy is Blamed to Insane Man”

Sadly the accompanying story was not nearly as intriguing as the headline...

Masters of the Vortex

Aw shit, I finished the Lensman series last year! But what if I still want to read about the Lensman universe? What's a girl to do?

Why she just picks up a handy copy of E. E. "Doc" Smith's Masters of the Vortex, another action-packed tale set in the universe of the Lens, but without Kim Kinnison and our other favorites from the series (thanks, once again, to the lovely Choo for the book loan). The stories were originally published in the early 40s, and the hardcover came out in 1960 (a pretty detailed description of the publication process can be found here if you're interested).

In Masters of the Vortex our hero (Neal "Storm" Cloud) actually isn't a Lensman, instead he is a nuclear engineer with an amazingly mathematical mind. Cloud's family is tragically killed in a freak accident by a "flying vortex of atomic destruction" -- one of many vortices that have been a side-effect of the wide-spread use of nuclear energy and are terrorizing planets around the universe. Devastated by the loss of his family, Cloud takes a leave of absence from the Galactic Patrol, only to be struck with an idea for "blowing out" a vortex and stopping its path of destruction. It is rather technical (and Smith is soooo good at writing the technical stuff in a fun way), but the general idea is that Cloud's brain works so fast that he can calculate exactly where the center of the vortex will be at a moment in time and then hit it with a bomb that is set at the exact strength to dissipate the charge and save the world.

As you might expect, this works, and it makes Cloud a very popular guy.

Cloud's new job as the universe's one and only vortex blaster takes him from planet to planet where he and his (totally awesome) crew (of aliens) battle wits against drug dealers and freaky life forms, and where his heart eventually begins to heal and his eyes turn toward his sexy, super smart, and self-taught psychic co-worker.

This book is a very fun read and stands alone from the other Lens books (so no need to read them first if you haven't already).

[And rock out with the back cover here -- Runaway Vortex!!]

Skitter, scratch, and squeak

Dear Mice,

I don't really like you in the kitchen -- in fact, you make me irritated and germ-conscious when I hear you under the fridge. What I like even less, however, is your nightly dance parties in the ceiling right above my head while I'm trying to sleep. 11 pm - 5 am might seem like a good time for running back and forth and making never-ending scratching sounds to you, but it is actually my prime sleeping window. I sincerely hope that you are trying to come up from our upstairs neighbors floor and not down through our ceiling so you can fall onto my bed, but at 3 am, when I've been up for hours, all I can think of is a mouse invasion in the bedroom. This means that, even if I do manage to slip into sleep for a bit, my dreams will not be so good. So please, for the sake of my sanity, have your party somewhere else. I'm sure our neighbors won't mind.

Best,

SB

I wish I had a Tik-Tok...

I know I sort of posted about this before, but I just watched Return to Oz (d. Walter Murch, 1985) for the first time since I was a kid and I'm all giddy about it.

Every one of the millions of people who love the Wizard of Oz should see this movie. It didn't do well when it was released because most people were expecting it to be a straight sequel to the Judy Garland movie. Instead, Murch gives us a film that is much darker, closer to the original books, and much more like one of the original Grimm's fairy tales than the beautiful story book of the earlier film. The special effects hold up wonderfully -- all puppets and animatronics, some done by Jim Henson's son Brian. They have a warmth and character to them that can't be replicated by CGI. I don't think I'm just being nostalgic here...

One of the best characters in the film is Tik-Tok, the mechanical man who talks with his moustache, has to be wound up constantly, and defends Dorothy with every ounce of his mechanical mind and body. He is simultaneously hilarious, brave, and really sweet. I really do wish I had a Tik-Tok of my own.

One of the reasons I liked this movie so much as a child, and why I think it is still a great film for children today is that Dorothy gets into truly dangerous and scary situations, and through her own power and the support of her goofy group of followers, she solves problems and rescues herself. Plus it is fun to get freaked out when you are a kid. Actually, it is still fun to get freaked out as an adult...

Little Kristy thought this was one of the freakiest scenes in the movie (excepting, of course, those super-freaky Wheelers):


Seriously, rent this at your next opportunity. And buy it for all the young boys and girls in your life. You won't be disappointed.

[If you are interested in seeing how all the puppets and robots work, check out this twenty minute behind the scenes documentary made on the set -- the dude who had to fold himself in half to play Tik-Tok must have had some major dedication...]

Middlesex

Thanks to the lovely Joolie, I wrapped myself around Middlesex (2002) by Jeffrey Eugenides over my holiday break. Seeing as it is a Pulitzer prize winning novel, it really isn't any surprise that it was very good. And, if you are like me, you might think of not reading it since Oprah made it a bookclub choice. But resist those thoughts! Join the masses! Because Middlesex is really quite a nice read.

The book follows the story of Cal, who is an intersex man who grew up as a girl, Calliope. We find this out at the beginning of the novel, but (in a very Tristram Shandy-like way), we then go waaaaay back to Cal's ancestral village on the slopes of Mount Olympus where his grandmother and grandfather are dealing with the death of their parents, coming of age, and getting forced out of their village by invading Turks. The novel traces the story of the hermaphroditic gene that has affected the village for years -- one in which a baby that looks outwardly like a girl begins to manifest male characteristics when she hits puberty. And due to the breaking of a taboo, a dose of chance, and the general mystery of genetics (and through nearly half the book), we follow the grandparents to America, and follow their genes into Calliope.

I liked the family-history part of the story -- Eugenides gives Cal a fun omniscience that gives the narration a unique perspective. But where the book really gets going is when Calliope hits puberty. The particularly involving part (for me at least) is how much I related to her feelings during this universally awkward time. I know I felt gigantic and gawky and weird and out of control when I was 14, just like Calliope. And every adolescent feels isolated and like the things that are happening to them couldn't possibly be happening to anyone else. Of course, in Calliope's case, she is right -- most of the other girls at her private school were going through puberty, but none of them were starting to display male sexual characteristics.

The book even has a very satisfying, if bittersweet, ending. So, Middlesex = yay! Go check it out.

[And finally, doesn't Eugenides have the greatest author picture? The author picture is one of my favorite photo genres, and he does it up perfectly. ]

Robocam

Meet Robocam, my new best computer friend. My sister had the inspired idea of getting everyone in my family matching robot-shaped webcams for Christmas. The lens is in his little tummy, the microphone is on his little forehead, and his little eyes light up (in actually a kind of freaky way) to brighten your face. Plus he is shaped like a robot with poseable arms and legs. Even if I never used him as a webcam, he is a pretty nice addition to the computer ensemble. So far the only person I've video-conferenced with is my dad, and we spent most of the time just laughing and waving our hands in front of the camera. It was fun for a novelty call, though, and also fun to see my dad's face, my mom popping in, and a portion of the living room.

Overall using my robocam makes me feel like I'm living in the future -- because isn't the future all jetpacks and video phones?

The Story of Forgetting

I recently received an advanced reader's copy of The Story of Forgetting the debut novel by Stefan Merrill Block (2008) through the LibraryThing Early Reviewers program (which I love love love).

The Story of Forgetting is an engaging and complex story that revolves around a familial genetic curse of early-onset Alzheimer's that goes undetected until the affected person is in their late-30s. When it strikes, they start forgetting the things closest to them in time and begin living their lives in reverse until, at the end, they forget to breathe, their heart forgets to beat, and they die.

The story comes together through different tracks: Abel, a 70 year old man living near Dallas in his childhood home and gradually being surrounded by suburban houses as he sells away the family farmland; and Seth, a 15 year old living in the suburbs of Austin whose mother, Jaime, is beginning to forget. Jaime never told her husband or son anything about her childhood -- she wouldn't even tell Seth her maiden name -- so when Seth finds out that the disease is genetic, he begins a quest to trace his mother's history as a way of understanding his own potential future.

Laced through these two storylines are the tales of Isidora, a family mythology about a hidden land where no one remembers anything and everyone is content in the moment. These stories are passed from generation to generation, and are one of the only hints that Jaime gives Seth about her past. The book also takes us through a scientific history of the disease, going back to the first mutated chromosome on an English Duke in the 1800s. We watch as his affairs with local women multiply (he is very discrete, since he can't remember anything) and his illegitimate children continue the legacy of the disease.

I really enjoyed this book -- the subject matter is unusual and interesting, the characters are well written, and the pacing is excellent. It almost lets me forgive Block for only being born in 1982. And since he is from Plano and the book takes place in the Austin area, Austin readers can marvel at familiar landmarks (Round Rock! MoPac! UT!). You can read more about Block and his novel at his website. And thanks to the power of Google and his unusual name, you can also read about his 1999 citation in the Intel Science Search for his research in field of deception and non-verbal expression of emotion.

[image above is a drawing of Alzheimer neuritic plaques that I found here.]

Holiday Recap

We have safely returned from our annual trek to Nebraska, where we didn't see the ground once in two and a half weeks since it was constantly covered with snow, snow, ice, and more snow. Come and relive the experience with me by browsing through the 327 pictures we took on the trip, chronologically arranged for your viewing pleasure.

Highlights include: cats (including hairless cats), dogs, snow, babies, uno, RockBand, a siblings new year's eve featuring Singstar, dance parties, sunglasses, and a return of the beeritar.

Climates

I am getting a little tired of all this snow.

And one other thing...

We will be experiencing exciting holiday-times, northern climates, family fun, and friend blasts for the next couple of weeks, so Spacebeerian updates will be few and far between.

Pellucidar (1915)

Thanks to the book- hunting and lending skills of the lovely choo, I helped myself to a big helping of Pellucidar (1915) by Edgar Rice Burroughs. As you might know, Burroughs also wrote the Tarzan novels (which I love -- and I also super love the movies, of which there are about 500), and the John Carter/Mars/Barsoom novels, of which I've only read one, but I liked it quite a bit.

Pellucidar is actually the second in Burrough's hollow earth series that started with At the Earth's Core. I haven't read the first book in the series, but like many adventure novels, the action is pretty self-contained and references to happenings in the first book are explained.

Our hero, David Innes, invented a mining drill back in the first book, but when he drove it into the earth with his partner Perry, they quickly lost control of the drill and feared for their lives as they headed to the center of the earth. Boy were they surprised when, instead of encountering molten lava, they found an undiscovered world. There is a pretty complete description of Pellucidar's geography and inhabitants on Wikipedia, but the highlights are: There is no horizon since the land curves up to follow the interior curve of the earth; the sun hangs in the center of the sky and never moves, so there is no sense of time and there is never night; there is a moon that hangs in the sky, just one mile over the "Land of the Awful Shadow" which can never escape from the darkness of the stationary moon; the people are at a stone age level of development, and most live in caves; and freaky intelligent giant flying lizards terrorize the small and unorganized groups of humans and make them their slaves using the brute strength of a third race of semi-intelligent apes.

In the first book it seems that David and Perry began to organize the humans and fight the lizards, and David also marries one of the super lovely caveladies (Dian the Beautiful). But when David takes the mining machine back to the surface to get some 20th century materials to help in their revolution, a bad human kidnaps Dian and the alliance falls apart.

Pellucidar begins with David's return to the earth's core and follows him as he rescues his woman, fights the evil lizards, reunites the cave people, and teaches everyone about building boats, firing cannons, reading, and not enslaving captured prisoners.

The book is a fun read, as all Burroughs is, and the geography and people of Pellucidar allow for some pretty creative adventures. There are occasional slips into early 20th century racism, but only slightly cringeworthy and nothing too blatant. I would gladly return to the world of Pellucidar -- and I am particularly excited to see what happens when Tarzan goes there...

[Check out the back cover here. And if you are so inclined, just read the whole darn thing here.]