the bored and the bookless
Jan. 16th, 2007 06:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
labellementeuseOf all the states I can be in, I consider the state of being bored and bookless by far the most pitiful. I tend to wander around, whining and prodding bookshelves and deciding there's nothing there that I really feel like, dammit.
Because I work at home summers, and internet access is if not more difficult at least less inviting in the home parental, I read a lot more published fiction (as opposed to fan fiction) December-February than I do any other given three months. Here are some of the books I've read since the New Year:
Catalogue of the Universe, by Margaret Mahy. A re-read, obviously. Highly recommended to those of you with tastes that tend towards the bizarre and mysterious.
Julie & Julia, by Julie Powell. This was a new book that I bought on my mother's advice; it's a memoir of a year the author spent cooking through an entire recipe book. I don't regret buying it; a really pleasant read, especially if you're a foodie. She has a great turn of phrase. Not lifechanging but I'll probably re-read it.
The Ruby in the Smoke, by Philip Pullman. Another re-read, although I'd forgotten a significant amount of its plot (which is good, because it's a mystery, sort of.) I love HDM, y'all, but I think I like Sally a whole heap more than I like Lyra.
Totally Joe, by James Howe. This is a sequel/companion to The Misfits which I would say is the better book - but I really did like this one, a very cute YA novel that's basically a year in the life of a 13 year old gay boy, Joe, in a smallish town. It's not the pinnacle of its genre, the very tiny category of really happy books about being a gay teenager, but it's really adorable.
Dark Lord of Derkholm and The Year of the Griffin (thank you, Sarah!) by Diana Wynne Jones. Okay, I should have known better than to read Dark lord of Derkholm without its sequel on hand. Luckily, Sarah, who borrowed it off me, posted it back down for me when I emailed her desperately. I have huge love for these two, which are satires of the epic fantasy genre and university, respectively. Relatedly, DWJ, world's greatest living YA fantasist, y/n? Y, y, y. I toss up over whether she's the world's greatest YA writer, period.
Beka Cooper: Terrier, which is, yes! the new Tamora Pierce. I am able to report that rumours of it being in first person are - shockingly - accurate, only they are in the much-less-grating journal form and I really enjoyed it, which I sort of wasn't expecting to. I do miss, terribly, the familiar cast of Tortall characters guesting (and, jeeze, the name of the King is Roger, which is difficult for me because I read The Hand of the Goddess at a really impressionable age and I really bought into the Roger-hate. Also, it's interesting that Tortall appears to have hung onto the same ruling family for... a very long time, since the earliest king mentioned is also a Jonathan.) but there is one familiar face and Beka is really pretty cool, right up there with Keladry and Tris.
Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist, by David Levithan and Rachel Coen. I love Levithan's stuff and I really liked this, and you will too if you like young adult fiction that isn't about people slitting their wrists or getting pregnant by accident.
The Betrayal of Bindy Mackenzie by Jaclyn Moriarty. This is another companion novel - I guess that's the word - to Feeling Sorry for Celia and Finding Cassie Crazy and is in the same format, which I find quite fun if a tad contrived: the story's told in diary entries, notes, things scribbled on posters, letters - anything that can be written down, in fact. (Actually, FSFC played fast and loose with that by including mental notes which are actually really hilariously great.) This one skips the whole Brookfield letter exchange thing, though, and is solely about Bindy. if you liked the first two, you'll like this one. Not-so-shockingly, it's also YA fic. (I do read adult fiction, quite a lot, I just normally have more to say about the YA stuff.)
Being Bindy by Alyssa Brugman. Is Bindy just a really popular name in Australia right now, or something? Anyway. okay, I think Walking Naked and Finding Grace, Brugman's two previous books, which are aimed at a slightly older audience, are significantly better than this; they're also more challenging, not in terms of the proe but in the subject matter - and I don't mean challenging as in difficult, I mean they challenge. Being Bindy really doesn't. And I still enjoyed it, very much, but... eh, I don't know, I think I was a little disappointed by it. But it's still a good read.
About a Boy, by Nick Hornby (look, adult fiction!) Okay, I have to say, my prevailing response to this book was: jeeze, and they say reading fantasy and young adult fiction is trashy and a waste of time. It was pleasant and readable and there was nothing to it, nothing at all. A customer who saw it next to me on the counter said High Fidelity was much better, so maybe I'll try that, but... meh, I know he's not the heights of great writing or anything, but I've read so much better stuff that gets sneered at so much more, you know? I could get significantly more brainwork watching Buffy. Significantly more.
the Gift of Asher Lev, by Chaim Potok. See, this is what adult fiction should be like. Chaim Potok is great, this book, the sequel to My Name is Asher Lev, is representative of his work. A re-read for me, and an old favourite.
A Rose by Any Other Name, by Maureen McCarthy; The Taking of Mariasburg, by Julian F Thompson; Say Goodbye, by Jean Ure; Tell Me If the Lovers are Losers, by Cynthia Voigt. New, old, old, old, all known quantities, all pleasant. The last is actually my favourite Voigt book, closely followed by Homecoming.
the Full Spectrum, a collection edited by David Levithan and... someone else of autobiographical writing by young adult members of the LGBTQ community. Okay, I don't often get on with this kind of stuff because the writing isn't normally that great, but I enjoyed the pieces well enough this time. What bugged me, though, was that this purported to be the full spectrum - writing from all corners of the community and, well. It really wasn't. it was a distinct improvement on the norm, I suppose; they really went all out to get several people covered by the big bad T in the alphabet soup (T is for transgendered!) and that does impress me, but... okay, this sounds petty. but where were all the fucking bisexuals? I think there were two in there, and one of them her whole thing was about her religion and the other one was just really.... vague. And basically my problem is, if something is going to purport to be about being the full spectrum, I want to be represented because I really feel like in general... I'm not, which sounds really lame and silly. One of the things that they said in the front of the book was that they found it a big trap to be reading the pieces trying to define, to label the writer, because that wasn't the value of the pieces, and in some ways I feel like I'm doing that. But also, I think what I'm doing is looking for someone like me, I am looking to see how these young writers relate to me. So I sort of felt a little cheated, is all.
Total: 16, which works out to - nifty - one book a day, although obviously that's not how I read them.
Currently in my to-read pile: Idoru by William Gibson, which I picked up at a library sale; The Watchmen, Alan Moore, which I got for Christmas; Fortune's Child, by Alice Hoffman; The Solitaire Mystery by Jostein Gaarder. I am currently seeking recs in the fantasy and adult literature genres, so if you have one... *points* I direct you to the comment button. I will try pretty much anything, and don't misjudge me by the skew of the stuff above. :P
By the way, gang; about how much does lamb cost where you live? Because I occasionally read things like "lamb isn't cheap unles you live in New Zealand," and well - lamb isn't cheap here, guys. No, really. If it's relatively cheap here, it must be absolutely ridiculous overseas.
OK, stopping talking about books now (I only really do it because otherwise I get to the end of the year and I'm like, "I have read NUZZING. NUZZING this year." Which is total crap, of course, but this way I can look back and be like, oh yeah, I have read some stuff after all.) Have still not been doing much - stayed with the excellent![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
megaffe for two days while my room was occupied by friends of the APs and coincidentally her parents were away. We watched a lot of Battlestar Galactica, which was great - it's a good show to watch with someone, you can stop and bitch and laugh at Kara (we mock because we adore her, truly) and all that good stuff. We did a bit of rambling over her section and up the back onto the reserve - she lives out in the eastbourne bays and it's pretty gorgeous if steep. Saw great fat keruru and lots of tui, which is always good fun - we get tui in town now but keruru never and I just think they're great.
I've also been working, and I have a brand-new coworker to "replace"keymash. His name is Ramsin but I shall christen him The Lump, for lo, verily he stands around and does fuck all the whole day. part of the reason I haven't posted so much lately is because if I did, it would all be bitching about Lump. Today while I was doing the sandwiches (which admittedly I hate, so I wasn't in a good frame of mind to start with) the meadowfresh order came in, which gets chucked in the bed of our NOT WORKING* fridge. I get done with the sandwiches and notice that the meadowfresh order is still out, so I look around for the invoice to mark it off.
Necessary context: almost all deliveries (there are exceptions like cookie time and fruit, but they are special cases) have to be marked off on their docket before they're put away, because everyone makes mistakes and that means delivery guys & gals, too. After the invoices are checked off they get put on the spike for Shijo or Monique to... do whatever officey stuff they do with them that makes sure things like stocktakes are up to date and all that important stuff.
So the meadowfresh order is sitting there in our - I can't say this enough - BROKEN fridge, but I can't find the docket. Eventually I figure out that it's been spiked, so I think, hey, maybe Ramsin already checked it and didn't put it away. This would be dumb, because OUR FRIDGE IS BROKEN and meadowfresh is, like, butter and yoghurt, but perhaps we'd been busy. So I check that he's ticked it off, and he's like, "No." And gives me this look like, why would I do that?
So, in brief. the meadowfresh order - which was tiny this week, a carton of margarine and a couple of crates of drinks - has come in. The Lump has signed for it, spiked it without checking it off, and then let it sit there mouldering** while he... stood around at the counter doing nothing.
ARRRRGH.
*this is pain in the ass enough, because we had to take all the milk and dairy out of it. We put up big signs that said OUR FRIDGE IS BROKEN. WE HAVE A SUPPLY OF MILK BEHIND THE COUNTER. SORRY. but, of course, we still had to deal with fifteen thousand people who can't read a fucking sign and kept coming up to the counter to say "no milk, then?" You might not think this sounds so bad, and it's not the first time, but the twentieth time in a row - I am so not exaggerating, we sell a lot of milk in the mornings - you just want to smack them and say LEARN TO READ.
**lest you fear for your health: it's not as bad as it sounds because the fridge was at about 6 degrees, which is one degree too hot for milk but probably won't hurt marge, and the drinks were all stuff that's fine at room temperature. But it could have been yoghurt, is what I'm saying. He didn't know because he hadn't opened the box.
Because I work at home summers, and internet access is if not more difficult at least less inviting in the home parental, I read a lot more published fiction (as opposed to fan fiction) December-February than I do any other given three months. Here are some of the books I've read since the New Year:
Catalogue of the Universe, by Margaret Mahy. A re-read, obviously. Highly recommended to those of you with tastes that tend towards the bizarre and mysterious.
Julie & Julia, by Julie Powell. This was a new book that I bought on my mother's advice; it's a memoir of a year the author spent cooking through an entire recipe book. I don't regret buying it; a really pleasant read, especially if you're a foodie. She has a great turn of phrase. Not lifechanging but I'll probably re-read it.
The Ruby in the Smoke, by Philip Pullman. Another re-read, although I'd forgotten a significant amount of its plot (which is good, because it's a mystery, sort of.) I love HDM, y'all, but I think I like Sally a whole heap more than I like Lyra.
Totally Joe, by James Howe. This is a sequel/companion to The Misfits which I would say is the better book - but I really did like this one, a very cute YA novel that's basically a year in the life of a 13 year old gay boy, Joe, in a smallish town. It's not the pinnacle of its genre, the very tiny category of really happy books about being a gay teenager, but it's really adorable.
Dark Lord of Derkholm and The Year of the Griffin (thank you, Sarah!) by Diana Wynne Jones. Okay, I should have known better than to read Dark lord of Derkholm without its sequel on hand. Luckily, Sarah, who borrowed it off me, posted it back down for me when I emailed her desperately. I have huge love for these two, which are satires of the epic fantasy genre and university, respectively. Relatedly, DWJ, world's greatest living YA fantasist, y/n? Y, y, y. I toss up over whether she's the world's greatest YA writer, period.
Beka Cooper: Terrier, which is, yes! the new Tamora Pierce. I am able to report that rumours of it being in first person are - shockingly - accurate, only they are in the much-less-grating journal form and I really enjoyed it, which I sort of wasn't expecting to. I do miss, terribly, the familiar cast of Tortall characters guesting (and, jeeze, the name of the King is Roger, which is difficult for me because I read The Hand of the Goddess at a really impressionable age and I really bought into the Roger-hate. Also, it's interesting that Tortall appears to have hung onto the same ruling family for... a very long time, since the earliest king mentioned is also a Jonathan.) but there is one familiar face and Beka is really pretty cool, right up there with Keladry and Tris.
Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist, by David Levithan and Rachel Coen. I love Levithan's stuff and I really liked this, and you will too if you like young adult fiction that isn't about people slitting their wrists or getting pregnant by accident.
The Betrayal of Bindy Mackenzie by Jaclyn Moriarty. This is another companion novel - I guess that's the word - to Feeling Sorry for Celia and Finding Cassie Crazy and is in the same format, which I find quite fun if a tad contrived: the story's told in diary entries, notes, things scribbled on posters, letters - anything that can be written down, in fact. (Actually, FSFC played fast and loose with that by including mental notes which are actually really hilariously great.) This one skips the whole Brookfield letter exchange thing, though, and is solely about Bindy. if you liked the first two, you'll like this one. Not-so-shockingly, it's also YA fic. (I do read adult fiction, quite a lot, I just normally have more to say about the YA stuff.)
Being Bindy by Alyssa Brugman. Is Bindy just a really popular name in Australia right now, or something? Anyway. okay, I think Walking Naked and Finding Grace, Brugman's two previous books, which are aimed at a slightly older audience, are significantly better than this; they're also more challenging, not in terms of the proe but in the subject matter - and I don't mean challenging as in difficult, I mean they challenge. Being Bindy really doesn't. And I still enjoyed it, very much, but... eh, I don't know, I think I was a little disappointed by it. But it's still a good read.
About a Boy, by Nick Hornby (look, adult fiction!) Okay, I have to say, my prevailing response to this book was: jeeze, and they say reading fantasy and young adult fiction is trashy and a waste of time. It was pleasant and readable and there was nothing to it, nothing at all. A customer who saw it next to me on the counter said High Fidelity was much better, so maybe I'll try that, but... meh, I know he's not the heights of great writing or anything, but I've read so much better stuff that gets sneered at so much more, you know? I could get significantly more brainwork watching Buffy. Significantly more.
the Gift of Asher Lev, by Chaim Potok. See, this is what adult fiction should be like. Chaim Potok is great, this book, the sequel to My Name is Asher Lev, is representative of his work. A re-read for me, and an old favourite.
A Rose by Any Other Name, by Maureen McCarthy; The Taking of Mariasburg, by Julian F Thompson; Say Goodbye, by Jean Ure; Tell Me If the Lovers are Losers, by Cynthia Voigt. New, old, old, old, all known quantities, all pleasant. The last is actually my favourite Voigt book, closely followed by Homecoming.
the Full Spectrum, a collection edited by David Levithan and... someone else of autobiographical writing by young adult members of the LGBTQ community. Okay, I don't often get on with this kind of stuff because the writing isn't normally that great, but I enjoyed the pieces well enough this time. What bugged me, though, was that this purported to be the full spectrum - writing from all corners of the community and, well. It really wasn't. it was a distinct improvement on the norm, I suppose; they really went all out to get several people covered by the big bad T in the alphabet soup (T is for transgendered!) and that does impress me, but... okay, this sounds petty. but where were all the fucking bisexuals? I think there were two in there, and one of them her whole thing was about her religion and the other one was just really.... vague. And basically my problem is, if something is going to purport to be about being the full spectrum, I want to be represented because I really feel like in general... I'm not, which sounds really lame and silly. One of the things that they said in the front of the book was that they found it a big trap to be reading the pieces trying to define, to label the writer, because that wasn't the value of the pieces, and in some ways I feel like I'm doing that. But also, I think what I'm doing is looking for someone like me, I am looking to see how these young writers relate to me. So I sort of felt a little cheated, is all.
Total: 16, which works out to - nifty - one book a day, although obviously that's not how I read them.
Currently in my to-read pile: Idoru by William Gibson, which I picked up at a library sale; The Watchmen, Alan Moore, which I got for Christmas; Fortune's Child, by Alice Hoffman; The Solitaire Mystery by Jostein Gaarder. I am currently seeking recs in the fantasy and adult literature genres, so if you have one... *points* I direct you to the comment button. I will try pretty much anything, and don't misjudge me by the skew of the stuff above. :P
By the way, gang; about how much does lamb cost where you live? Because I occasionally read things like "lamb isn't cheap unles you live in New Zealand," and well - lamb isn't cheap here, guys. No, really. If it's relatively cheap here, it must be absolutely ridiculous overseas.
OK, stopping talking about books now (I only really do it because otherwise I get to the end of the year and I'm like, "I have read NUZZING. NUZZING this year." Which is total crap, of course, but this way I can look back and be like, oh yeah, I have read some stuff after all.) Have still not been doing much - stayed with the excellent
megaffe for two days while my room was occupied by friends of the APs and coincidentally her parents were away. We watched a lot of Battlestar Galactica, which was great - it's a good show to watch with someone, you can stop and bitch and laugh at Kara (we mock because we adore her, truly) and all that good stuff. We did a bit of rambling over her section and up the back onto the reserve - she lives out in the eastbourne bays and it's pretty gorgeous if steep. Saw great fat keruru and lots of tui, which is always good fun - we get tui in town now but keruru never and I just think they're great. I've also been working, and I have a brand-new coworker to "replace"
keymash. His name is Ramsin but I shall christen him The Lump, for lo, verily he stands around and does fuck all the whole day. part of the reason I haven't posted so much lately is because if I did, it would all be bitching about Lump. Today while I was doing the sandwiches (which admittedly I hate, so I wasn't in a good frame of mind to start with) the meadowfresh order came in, which gets chucked in the bed of our NOT WORKING* fridge. I get done with the sandwiches and notice that the meadowfresh order is still out, so I look around for the invoice to mark it off. Necessary context: almost all deliveries (there are exceptions like cookie time and fruit, but they are special cases) have to be marked off on their docket before they're put away, because everyone makes mistakes and that means delivery guys & gals, too. After the invoices are checked off they get put on the spike for Shijo or Monique to... do whatever officey stuff they do with them that makes sure things like stocktakes are up to date and all that important stuff.
So the meadowfresh order is sitting there in our - I can't say this enough - BROKEN fridge, but I can't find the docket. Eventually I figure out that it's been spiked, so I think, hey, maybe Ramsin already checked it and didn't put it away. This would be dumb, because OUR FRIDGE IS BROKEN and meadowfresh is, like, butter and yoghurt, but perhaps we'd been busy. So I check that he's ticked it off, and he's like, "No." And gives me this look like, why would I do that?
So, in brief. the meadowfresh order - which was tiny this week, a carton of margarine and a couple of crates of drinks - has come in. The Lump has signed for it, spiked it without checking it off, and then let it sit there mouldering** while he... stood around at the counter doing nothing.
ARRRRGH.
*this is pain in the ass enough, because we had to take all the milk and dairy out of it. We put up big signs that said OUR FRIDGE IS BROKEN. WE HAVE A SUPPLY OF MILK BEHIND THE COUNTER. SORRY. but, of course, we still had to deal with fifteen thousand people who can't read a fucking sign and kept coming up to the counter to say "no milk, then?" You might not think this sounds so bad, and it's not the first time, but the twentieth time in a row - I am so not exaggerating, we sell a lot of milk in the mornings - you just want to smack them and say LEARN TO READ.
**lest you fear for your health: it's not as bad as it sounds because the fridge was at about 6 degrees, which is one degree too hot for milk but probably won't hurt marge, and the drinks were all stuff that's fine at room temperature. But it could have been yoghurt, is what I'm saying. He didn't know because he hadn't opened the box.
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Date: 2007-01-17 02:30 am (UTC)