After my post on All The Tea in China, I started thinking about nonfiction. I read a lot of nonfiction. I think I would say that at this point in my life I prefer nonfiction. Not saying that I don't love to get lost in some imaginary world, but I'm a sucker for a book that will both teach and entertain me. So here are my Top 10 favorite nonfiction titles.
1. The Geography of Bliss by Eric Weiner
I read this book of Weiner's study of happiness and the places it can be found, and then immediately passed the book on to my sisters. The NPR correspondent looks at different scales of happiness and then sets out to visit the places that have been listed the happiest on earth (and a few of the least happy). Not only did the book introduce me to the concept of biophilia, but it made me want to travel to places like Iceland, Switzerland, and the Netherlands. His study of the different cultures is fascinating and I walked away thinking a lot about happiness and what really makes me happy in the end.
2. The Hive by Bee Wilson
I picked up this book, subtitled The Story of the Honeybee and Us, randomly in a tiny bookstore in Omaha. I read a lot of natural history books and this one was interesting. I had been wanting to eventually set up my own apiary. This book was so beautifully written and provided such an interesting history of bees that I read it over a two day period. Wilson shows how bees have been intertwined with our politics, sex, life, death, and of course food throughout history. A "bee"utiful book.
3. The History of the World in Six Glasses by Tom Standage
The only book on this list that I don't own, but I can't think of a nonfiction title that has more impacted the way I look at the world. Standage looks back through human history through the lens of beverages. Through beer, wine, tea, coffee, spirits, and cola, he traces how humans have been changed as these drinks rose to prominence. His last chapter, about the rising importance of water, changed the way I looked at the environmental movement for the better. One of the best books I've ever read. Period.
4. Isaac's Storm by Erik Larson
Larson might be my favorite nonfiction writer out there. At the insistence of my mother I've read almost all of his books. He makes history come alive in a way that I've never encountered before. Isaac's Storm, about the 1900 hurricane in Galveston, tells three stories. The first is about the actual hurricane, how it arrived and what it destroyed. The second is about Isaac Cline, the meteorologist in Galveston that year and how his lack of understanding caused some of the larger damage. It's through Cline's letters and journals that we get the most intimate picture of the catastrophe. And the last story is the story of meteorology itself, from a bunch of guesswork to a somewhat scientific study. All three stories wrap together to make for one exciting and informative read.
5. Longitude by Dava Sobel
This is really a story about sea travel, about the difficulties of sea travel, and about the perfect device that managed to make it less difficult. For centuries sea farers could tell with some accuracy where they were latitudinally but they had no idea what longitude they were at. They could tell how close to the equator they were, but not how far east or west. It was a perilous issue. This book chronicles the invention of the chronometer, which finally allowed sailors the chance to know where in the world they really were. A short, elegant read for anyone interested in travel, history, or inventions.
6. The Medici Giraffe by Marina Belozerskaya
Throughout history, animals have been used by man. Some for food, some for work, and some (as this book discusses) for status. This well researched and beautifully written book looks at how people have used exotic animals as symbols of power and status. It chronicles the early animal trade where exotics were brought back to live in private menageries or paraded down the streets for the people's pleasure. I had never really thought about how animals had been used that way until I realized how often animals are still given as gifts to heads of state. An eye-opening book.
7. The Road of Dreams by Bruce Junek
One of the more obscure titles on this list, although I have several friends who had read this travelogue before I had. The book follows Bruce Junek and his wife Tass Thacker as they bicycle around the world. I've read many "around the world" books but this one was the first to really feel like the authors were getting heavily into the cultures surrounding them. Focusing mostly on North America, Europe, and Asia, this book gave me my first glimpse into traveling lightly yet immersing oneself into a place. I was spellbound by the read as has everyone I've ever lent the book to.
8. Shadow Divers by Robert Kurson
After I started scuba diving, I started reading a bit about the history of the pursuit and about successful and unsuccessful dives. Of all the books I've read though, none of them kept me on the edge of my seat like this true story of a group of divers, working on a U-Boat they discovered off the coast of the US. Their tales of the dives they take to discover the identity of the sub and to explore it are gripping. While reading the last chapter I literally forgot to breathe and ended up taking gasping breaths as I flipped pages. Incredibly exciting reading.
9. You Just Don't Understand by Deborah Tannen
This is hands down one of the best books I've ever read about human communication. Tannen explores how and why men and women seem to speak differently. Giving clear examples she shows what each sex is trying to convey in their discussions. While I'll admit that not every woman or man fits a stereotype, this book really changed the way I look at why I say the things I say and what I really mean. It shaped the way I speak and the way I listen.
10. Rowing to Latitude by Jill Fredston
I've read a lot of books about swimmers and rowers lately. I'm not sure what about the water fascinates me so much but I've been smitten. This book follows Jill Fredston and her husband as they row (as in rowboat) around some of the coldest and inhospitable places on Earth. In winter Fredston is an avalanche rescuer in Alaska. In summer, she and her husband row around the edges of Greenland, Norway, Alaska... to name a few. The writing is beautiful (I copied out tons of quotes), the locations are fascinating, and the interactions between the couple and the world around them makes me want to spend more time outdoors. Great read.
Showing posts with label reading. Show all posts
Showing posts with label reading. Show all posts
Friday, February 6, 2015
Saturday, September 27, 2014
The Comics Issue
I got home from the library at 2 this afternoon with a stack of nine books. Two were easy reader children's book, one was an overview of a filmmaker's career, one was a creativity guide, and the rest were graphic novels. I read a lot of graphic novels. I love the blending of words and images. I love the creative stories that seem to only flow out of the blending of art and text. And I love the art. But a lot of people will tell me that graphic novels, comics, or even comic strips aren't real reading. There continues to be a stigma attached to this kind of reading. I couldn't disagree more.
I grew up on a rich diet of books which included picture books, chapter books, comics, and comic strips. Some of the earliest adventure stories that I fell in love with were Uncle Scrooge comics. Each thin paper comic contained an adventure that often spanned the globe. I would get sucked into the stories. I can still picture Uncle Scrooge in his adventure for the golden fleece or making his way into the valley of Tralla La (the Carl Banks version of Shangri-La). I had no idea at the time that I was learning bits of greek myth or about mythical utopias. I just knew that I loved the stories.
As I got older I fell in love with comic strips. I read Calvin and Hobbes, Wizard of Id, The Far Side, and Bloom County to name a few. There were other comics, ones that weren't in our local paper, that found their way into the house in the form of collections. My mother supported us kids as readers, in whatever form that reading took. So we had hundreds of these comic collections mixed with our paper comics that included Archie's, Mickey Mouse, and Casper. We were allowed to read anything we wanted as long as it was kid friendly. And we did read. I can't remember a moment of my childhood where I wasn't reading or thinking about books to read. We were blessed.
I worry about kids now whose parents keep them from comics. Parent who say that graphic novels and comics aren't real reading. As if reading a chapter book was the only form of book for kids once they can read on their own. Like the mistaken idea of taking picture books away from kids after they can read on their own, I think that this does more to keep children from becoming readers. Much like picture books, I think graphic novels are essential reading for kids who are learning to love words and stories. A story can be told in many ways. Like a great film, a graphic novel uses both dialogue and image to tell a more complete story. A child who is encouraged to read whatever they would like (within reason) will become a reader. They will read for pleasure. They will read to learn.
Now I'm not saying to never pay attention to what your children are reading. I've read graphic novels that were disturbing for me as an adult. I've also read word only novels that have done the same thing. My mother was careful to screen what we read for adult content. Things we read that were more advanced were discussed. But we were never told that we couldn't read some type of format. When I went back to reading picture books my mother gave me a stack of books from our old library. I have dibs on some of our comic book collections. I read constantly as a child, in all formats. And I don't know if I would have been as large a reader if I hadn't been granted so much freedom in deciding what I wanted to read. I know that I would not be the reader I am today without that combination of art and words.
I grew up on a rich diet of books which included picture books, chapter books, comics, and comic strips. Some of the earliest adventure stories that I fell in love with were Uncle Scrooge comics. Each thin paper comic contained an adventure that often spanned the globe. I would get sucked into the stories. I can still picture Uncle Scrooge in his adventure for the golden fleece or making his way into the valley of Tralla La (the Carl Banks version of Shangri-La). I had no idea at the time that I was learning bits of greek myth or about mythical utopias. I just knew that I loved the stories.
As I got older I fell in love with comic strips. I read Calvin and Hobbes, Wizard of Id, The Far Side, and Bloom County to name a few. There were other comics, ones that weren't in our local paper, that found their way into the house in the form of collections. My mother supported us kids as readers, in whatever form that reading took. So we had hundreds of these comic collections mixed with our paper comics that included Archie's, Mickey Mouse, and Casper. We were allowed to read anything we wanted as long as it was kid friendly. And we did read. I can't remember a moment of my childhood where I wasn't reading or thinking about books to read. We were blessed.
I worry about kids now whose parents keep them from comics. Parent who say that graphic novels and comics aren't real reading. As if reading a chapter book was the only form of book for kids once they can read on their own. Like the mistaken idea of taking picture books away from kids after they can read on their own, I think that this does more to keep children from becoming readers. Much like picture books, I think graphic novels are essential reading for kids who are learning to love words and stories. A story can be told in many ways. Like a great film, a graphic novel uses both dialogue and image to tell a more complete story. A child who is encouraged to read whatever they would like (within reason) will become a reader. They will read for pleasure. They will read to learn.
Now I'm not saying to never pay attention to what your children are reading. I've read graphic novels that were disturbing for me as an adult. I've also read word only novels that have done the same thing. My mother was careful to screen what we read for adult content. Things we read that were more advanced were discussed. But we were never told that we couldn't read some type of format. When I went back to reading picture books my mother gave me a stack of books from our old library. I have dibs on some of our comic book collections. I read constantly as a child, in all formats. And I don't know if I would have been as large a reader if I hadn't been granted so much freedom in deciding what I wanted to read. I know that I would not be the reader I am today without that combination of art and words.
Friday, July 12, 2013
Neil Gaiman!
For those of you who don't know, the man sitting at the table is Neil Gaiman. And the woman looking slightly faint while professing her undying love standing in front, is me. I've been that close to Neil "freakin" Gaiman! Even just saying that makes me giddy.
If you're a friend of mine on Facebook I'm sure you're tired of seeing pictures of this man. But it's not everyday that someone gets to meet one of their heroes. So pardon me if I'm a tad over-enthusiastic. I have loved many writers. I have a couple writers who I've read all of their books. Neil Gaiman is on the top of both of those lists. So when I heard that Neil Gaiman would be doing his last signing tour I knew I had to find a way to go. The closest stop was Minneapolis so I started making plans. A friend, graciously, went to the bookstore to pick up passes for me. Another friend, as big a Gaiman fan as I am, went with me to the signing. We listened to him talk and read and then read from his even newer book. And I applauded and cheered. And then we waited, and waited. Three hours we waited for the chance to have our books signed. Thanks to my friend Josh for making me stay. Because it was worth the three hours.
Because for 30 seconds I got the chance to talk to my hero. I stood in front of him and babbled something about how much I loved all of his work. And he said something gracious about how it was all so different and I babbled more about how he was an amazing storyteller. And he signed two books with a beautiful fountain pen and I couldn't stop smiling for the rest of the night. Every time I open my copy of his book I smile. He was so gracious and genuine. And I can't stop talking about it. So here you go. More pictures. More talking. I just have to say it. I love Neil Gaiman!
Monday, June 17, 2013
Books!
My mother tells me that when I was less than a year old, I used to sit on the floor in the living room, pull a book off the well stocked shelves, and flip through the pages as if I were reading. Although I'm not sure I believe this completely, she tells me that I didn't even rip the pages. I do remember being six and pulling down the A book from the World Book to flip through. I was particularly fascinated with the page that showed the variety of apples. I spent most of my childhood flipping through those books. I still do when I'm over at my parent's house. I spent 60% of my childhood stretched out on the couch in my parent's living room reading.
My parent's house is filled with books. There is not a single room in that home that doesn't have books. It was such a regular part of my childhood that upon entering a friend's house I was filled with a sense of unease. It was half way into my visit before I realized that there was not a single book in sight. If you walk into my living room right now you'd find: two books and a notebook on the couch, four library books stacked on the dining table, a bookcase filled with cookbooks, a stack of magazines and one lonely paperback on the coffee table, and at least a half dozen books on the stairs waiting to go up. And this isn't where I keep my collection. I keep the majority of my books in the library. But like my parents, you can't find a room in the house where you don't find reading material.
I've been thinking about my passion recently. I want to find what makes me the happiest, what makes time fly. I want to figure out what I'm the most passionate about. Then I look around. And find myself surrounded by books. I realize that one of the things that bothers me the most about my job is that I'm not working with books regularly. I notice that I'm donating my time at the library. And that when I enter a library, a bookshop, or someone's personal library, time seems to slow down. I browse, running my fingers gently along the spines of books. I can spend hours glancing at titles, picking up books, copying quotes from books, collecting books, and of course reading books. I don't know about you, but that seems like the definition of a passion. I think I found it. My great passion is books. Now to find a way to make that my occupation.
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Grrr Google
In a case of biting the hand that feeds me, I'm going to take a moment to complain about Google. Well not about the company per se. It's my go-to search engine. It's my standard email. It's also my favorite place to search for scholarly information. And obviously it houses my blogs. It also used to be my RSS compiler. Used to be. Google announced this week that they will be shutting down their incredibly useful Reader function in July. And I've grown to depend on my Reader. Seriously depend. So I'm not looking forward to finding a new compiler to use.
The problem is I subscribe to a little over 120 blogs and tumblr sites. That's a lot of posting. In a full day there are at least 45-60 new articles that post for me. Some blogs are daily, some post a couple times a week, and some post much less frequently. I've grown used to a simple format that allows me to see only the new articles available and then clears them out when I've finished reading. It makes my internet time more organized and happy. And organized and happy are my favorite things.
Thankfully, Google has put into a place a transition program so I can move to a new compiler but so far I haven't found any that offer me the same efficiency. Many of them have odd UIs. Or perhaps I'm just bristling at the change for format. I don't need a tablet or smart phone based reader and that seems to be where most services are focused. I want something that lets me read the articles without clicking on them, and then lets me know which ones I've read that morning. I want something that displays all my new articles in one place. I want something that is simple and easy to use. In other words, I want my Reader. If you couldn't tell I'm a little frustrated with this decision of Google's. I understand they are trying to pare down, but I just don't want it to be here. Grrr.
The problem is I subscribe to a little over 120 blogs and tumblr sites. That's a lot of posting. In a full day there are at least 45-60 new articles that post for me. Some blogs are daily, some post a couple times a week, and some post much less frequently. I've grown used to a simple format that allows me to see only the new articles available and then clears them out when I've finished reading. It makes my internet time more organized and happy. And organized and happy are my favorite things.
Thankfully, Google has put into a place a transition program so I can move to a new compiler but so far I haven't found any that offer me the same efficiency. Many of them have odd UIs. Or perhaps I'm just bristling at the change for format. I don't need a tablet or smart phone based reader and that seems to be where most services are focused. I want something that lets me read the articles without clicking on them, and then lets me know which ones I've read that morning. I want something that displays all my new articles in one place. I want something that is simple and easy to use. In other words, I want my Reader. If you couldn't tell I'm a little frustrated with this decision of Google's. I understand they are trying to pare down, but I just don't want it to be here. Grrr.
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Westeros
I woke up this morning with the name Westeros in my head. That shouldn't scare me so much except that the place doesn't exist, outside of five books and an HBO series. George R. R. Martin has held me captive for almost four months. I've read all five of the Song of Ice and Fire books back to back to back to back to back. I've watched almost no TV except for the first and half of the second season of the HBO series. Names like Arya and Tyrion come to mind faster than over half of my coworkers. To say that I've been a bit addicted is like saying that Houdini was a bit of a magician.
Last night I read the last word that has been written so far. I have five episodes left to watch before I'm forced to wait like the rest of the world for my Westeros fix. I'm sure Jeff will be happy to hear that I'm done for a while. This is all he's been hearing about for month. I talk about the Starks at dinner as if I'm sharing gossip about our friends. I'm trying to get him to watch the HBO series so I can discuss it with him (so far he's resisted). I have friends that I discuss the books with and I've been peppering them with questions and speculations for a while. It's really been a journey.
As I closed the book last night I had mixed emotions. I have no more Westeros to read (at least until the next book comes out). I'll miss these characters. I'll admit I was sad to see the series go. And at the same time I breathed a sigh of relief. I have books waiting to be read. I have stacks of stories that call to me. I even have library books that will need to be returned...soon. And for the last four months I've read almost nothing but Martin's words. I think I'm ready to take a break. I stopped reading series for a while. Now I remember the reason. Deep character development is wonderful, but I'm ready for a bit more variety. Now to tackle the stacks.
Last night I read the last word that has been written so far. I have five episodes left to watch before I'm forced to wait like the rest of the world for my Westeros fix. I'm sure Jeff will be happy to hear that I'm done for a while. This is all he's been hearing about for month. I talk about the Starks at dinner as if I'm sharing gossip about our friends. I'm trying to get him to watch the HBO series so I can discuss it with him (so far he's resisted). I have friends that I discuss the books with and I've been peppering them with questions and speculations for a while. It's really been a journey.
As I closed the book last night I had mixed emotions. I have no more Westeros to read (at least until the next book comes out). I'll miss these characters. I'll admit I was sad to see the series go. And at the same time I breathed a sigh of relief. I have books waiting to be read. I have stacks of stories that call to me. I even have library books that will need to be returned...soon. And for the last four months I've read almost nothing but Martin's words. I think I'm ready to take a break. I stopped reading series for a while. Now I remember the reason. Deep character development is wonderful, but I'm ready for a bit more variety. Now to tackle the stacks.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
The World is Quiet Here
{Spoilers in this post. If you have any interest in reading A Series of Unfortunate Events, this is not for you}
The first time I read A Bad Beginning, the first book in the series A Series of Unfortunate Events, I hated it. I didn't understand the author's brand of humor and his constant definitions drove me crazy. I chocked it up to "not my taste" and put it away. Then I picked it up again this past year and loved it. I read every one of the 13 books. I couldn't stop talking about them. I loved the humor. I loved the characters. I loved the definitions. But most of all I loved the VFD.
The concept of a secret society that for lack of a better word fights crime appeals to me. Even better a secret society that uses knowledge to do it, whatever form that knowledge takes. The title of this post is the VFD's motto. It hung above their library, a safe place in a chaotic world. They are a society that values learning, that values creativity, that values curiosity. The idea is inspiring to me. For me the tales of the Baudelaire orphans were more about learning how much power they had through their curiosity and knowledge.
Klaus, the reader and scholar, is who I identified with, but each of the characters has their own strengths. Klaus's ability remember the things he reads, his unrelenting curiosity, his copious note-taking, are all things I admire. He's the bookworm of the three and I saw myself in his role. I'm not an inventor like Violet or a cook/biter like Sunny. But I can read and remember with the best of them. As Klaus stood in that burned library and read the words above the door, I had chills go through me. Partly they were about the burned library (horrific) but partly they were because I'd found a motto I could agree with.
The world is quiet here, is what I think every time I walk into my own personal library. Here I can learn and study and be at peace, away from the stress of the world. I want to paint it above my door. I want to tattoo it on my skin. Curiosity and knowledge are two things I value very highly. How wonderful to find the same value in a children's book series.
The first time I read A Bad Beginning, the first book in the series A Series of Unfortunate Events, I hated it. I didn't understand the author's brand of humor and his constant definitions drove me crazy. I chocked it up to "not my taste" and put it away. Then I picked it up again this past year and loved it. I read every one of the 13 books. I couldn't stop talking about them. I loved the humor. I loved the characters. I loved the definitions. But most of all I loved the VFD.
The concept of a secret society that for lack of a better word fights crime appeals to me. Even better a secret society that uses knowledge to do it, whatever form that knowledge takes. The title of this post is the VFD's motto. It hung above their library, a safe place in a chaotic world. They are a society that values learning, that values creativity, that values curiosity. The idea is inspiring to me. For me the tales of the Baudelaire orphans were more about learning how much power they had through their curiosity and knowledge.
Klaus, the reader and scholar, is who I identified with, but each of the characters has their own strengths. Klaus's ability remember the things he reads, his unrelenting curiosity, his copious note-taking, are all things I admire. He's the bookworm of the three and I saw myself in his role. I'm not an inventor like Violet or a cook/biter like Sunny. But I can read and remember with the best of them. As Klaus stood in that burned library and read the words above the door, I had chills go through me. Partly they were about the burned library (horrific) but partly they were because I'd found a motto I could agree with.
The world is quiet here, is what I think every time I walk into my own personal library. Here I can learn and study and be at peace, away from the stress of the world. I want to paint it above my door. I want to tattoo it on my skin. Curiosity and knowledge are two things I value very highly. How wonderful to find the same value in a children's book series.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
A Boy and a Bear In a Boat
The American cover, the one I have
Only twice in my life have I finished a book, taken a big deep breath, and then reopened it at the first page to read again. The first book was Charlotte's Web and I was only nine or ten. I so badly wanted Charlotte to be alive again that I started the book over. And cried the second time. I almost restarted Kushiel's Dart when I finished it but regained my sanity as I stared at the 800 or 900 pages before me. On Sunday I read a book called A Boy and a Bear in a Boat. I put the book down, smiled, and instantly picked it back up to start rereading. The first reading had taken me 2 hours. The second one was shorter.
I'm not sure how to describe Dave Shelton's book. The plot, quite simply, is about a boy and a bear and the boat trip that they take together. The boy wants to cross to the other side and the bear is the captain of the boat. They set off on their journey but before long the boy realizes that they are lost. Hopelessly lost, unless you ask the Bear. He knows exactly where they are at. He even has a map (it looks like the image below). So they keep going. And from that, a number of adventures happen. They find sea monsters, The Last Sandwich, tide anomalies, and abandoned ships. It's a book with both a comic no one understands and a ukulele. It's an odd story (blissfully odd). But that's only part of it. It's a story about attitude, friendship, and the unwillingness to give up.
The UK cover, which is so perfect that I will need to find a copy, no matter what cost.
The book Siddhartha by Herman Hesse always leaving me with an incredible feeling of peace whenever I finish it. I've read it many times over the course of my life. Always when I need to be mentally cleansed. It's a book that restarts my brain. A Boy and a Bear in a Boat might become my new cleansing book. The lessons that this book teaches are simple but I remember feeling completely changed after reading it. It's a bit story, a bit zen koan, and a bit magic. We never find out the boy's name or the bear's name. The boat is named but that's about the only character that has one. We learn what we need to know about the characters though. When I finished I loved Bear the same way I loved Charlotte all those years ago. He was a wonderful character. And the boy grew so much during the course of the book that I wanted to cheer for him. I closed this book (I won't tell you the ending) and I felt completely at peace. It's a magical book, even if I'm still trying to puzzle it out.
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Games of Thrones
Since I've gotten home from St. Louis, I've done nothing in the evenings except read. I come home, say hi to Jeff, and plop myself down on the couch to read. At 11 or so I'll move upstairs and then read until I either fall asleep or read until I think I'm going to have problems waking up the next day. To say that I've been a little focused is a bit of an understatement.
I've been told by at least half a dozen people that I need to read at least the first book of the Song of Ice and Fire series, A Game of Thrones by George R. R. Martin. Jeff had received the book as a gift last Christmas and it's been sitting in my stack. So last week I picked it up. And I was immediately sucked in. The characters are all so unique. Throughout the book I would fall in love with different characters. Eddard, Tyrion, Arya, Catelyn, and Jon Snow all have been favorite characters at one point or another. They are each so well described and their individual stories so fascinating. The book follows the Starks of Winterfell, the lord, his lady, and their five children, as they set out into a very well described fantasy world. Each has their own role to play in just this book and I know that those roles will be every futher expanded as I read the rest of the series.
Martin tells a story that's both raw and truthful, which is a tough thing to say for a fantasy series. The word he creates falls its own set of rules beautifully. Magic exists in small doses but it has it's place. Dragons and other creatures have or do live in the world. But each part of the book rings true. Martin creates a history for the world, a mythology for the world, religions, and enough ruling classes that sometimes they are a tad tough to keep straight. He does provide an overview of the houses in the back, but you're so focused on the Starks that I didn't find I had to consult it often. The book has political intrigue (a lot of political intrigue), a fascinating family story, myth and legend, war, and a bit of sex. It's everything I enjoy in a good book and I can't wait to continue on and find out what happens next.
Monday, November 19, 2012
The Stacks
There's a reason I don't reread my books that often. It's below.
This is my bookcase of books that I haven't read yet. Not just one of the shelves, the whole case is unread. This isn't even the whole case. There's one more row below of oversized books. Books come and go from the case but it's never empty. And often books will stay on there for years before I finally get to them. Buying books is a matter of moments, reading them is slower.
This is my stack of books that I haven't read that don't fit on the bookcase. Currently they are sitting in boxes in my closet but I drag them out occasionally to pick from them.
As you can see I have plenty to keep me occupied. I could choose not to buy or borrow another book for two years and I'd probably still have enough reading material. I've accepted that I'll never read all the books I want to read. But I would like to one day empty the bookcase above. Of course that would mean avoiding the library and the bookstore. So, it's probably never going to happen.
This is my bookcase of books that I haven't read yet. Not just one of the shelves, the whole case is unread. This isn't even the whole case. There's one more row below of oversized books. Books come and go from the case but it's never empty. And often books will stay on there for years before I finally get to them. Buying books is a matter of moments, reading them is slower.
This is my stack of books that I haven't read that don't fit on the bookcase. Currently they are sitting in boxes in my closet but I drag them out occasionally to pick from them.
As you can see I have plenty to keep me occupied. I could choose not to buy or borrow another book for two years and I'd probably still have enough reading material. I've accepted that I'll never read all the books I want to read. But I would like to one day empty the bookcase above. Of course that would mean avoiding the library and the bookstore. So, it's probably never going to happen.
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Rereadings
I'm sure it won't surprise any of you to know that I read a lot. And I mean a lot. I spend much of my free time with my nose stuck in a book. What might surprise you is that I don't reread. Ever. I can list on one hand the number of books that I've read a second time or more. Siddhartha by Herman Hesse gets reread every couple of years. I think of that book as a re-grounding. I read it to refresh myself. Pride and Prejudice has been read at least four times. Charlotte's Web gets pulled off the shelf occasionally, and yes I still cry no matter how many times I read it. I've reread two others for a book club I'm in. Other than that, nothing gets reread.
I once started a book only to find within the first three chapters that I had read the book in high school. The whole plot flashed back to me and I put the book down and moved on to something else. Something new. But this weekend I started a book that I was pretty sure I'd read before. It's a memoir about reading called So Many Books, So Little Time by Sara Nelson. I was sure I had read it years ago and every once and a while I would get flashbacks of chapters. But it never came back to me fully. I read her discussions of books and had the odd sense of deja vu that comes with rereading but even up until the end, I never remembered the book enough to put it down. And it wasn't in my LibraryThing (I'm CatB if you're interested). So I read the book for perhaps the second time and enjoyed it.
The moment I put it down I grabbed another, and this one I knew I had read. I picked up Russell Hoban's The Mouse and His Child. I read this book as a child and it had the biggest impact on me. Here was a book that was on the surface about a wind-up mouse and his child, trying to find some friends and evade an enemy. But even as a child I recognized that the book was so much more than that. It was an allegory. I saw the discussions of infinity and trying to define Being and cause and effect and the book intrigued me, even at a young age. So when I found out that the book had been reprinted with illustrations from David Small, one of my all-time favorite illustrators, I made it a point to find a copy. I had glanced through the book after buying it but didn't plan to reread. After all, it was the illustrations I was looking for. But today, after finishing one potential rereading, I purposefully picked up the book and read.
And the book lived up to its memory. I loved it for a second time. The story was familiar, but I was amazed at how much I had forgotten. There were characters that I hadn't remembered at all. There were subplots that hadn't meant anything to me as a child and were therefore forgotten. And the ending surprised me. I'm not sure how I had forgotten it. Although the characters were the same I read this like a brand-new book. And it got me thinking. I wonder how many of my childhood favorites would be worth going back to reread? How many stories have I forgotten enough of that they would be worth revisiting? I might have to go through my shelves. And create a stack to reread. After all, if it hadn't been for the illustrations, I would never have picked up this wonderful tale again.
I once started a book only to find within the first three chapters that I had read the book in high school. The whole plot flashed back to me and I put the book down and moved on to something else. Something new. But this weekend I started a book that I was pretty sure I'd read before. It's a memoir about reading called So Many Books, So Little Time by Sara Nelson. I was sure I had read it years ago and every once and a while I would get flashbacks of chapters. But it never came back to me fully. I read her discussions of books and had the odd sense of deja vu that comes with rereading but even up until the end, I never remembered the book enough to put it down. And it wasn't in my LibraryThing (I'm CatB if you're interested). So I read the book for perhaps the second time and enjoyed it.
The moment I put it down I grabbed another, and this one I knew I had read. I picked up Russell Hoban's The Mouse and His Child. I read this book as a child and it had the biggest impact on me. Here was a book that was on the surface about a wind-up mouse and his child, trying to find some friends and evade an enemy. But even as a child I recognized that the book was so much more than that. It was an allegory. I saw the discussions of infinity and trying to define Being and cause and effect and the book intrigued me, even at a young age. So when I found out that the book had been reprinted with illustrations from David Small, one of my all-time favorite illustrators, I made it a point to find a copy. I had glanced through the book after buying it but didn't plan to reread. After all, it was the illustrations I was looking for. But today, after finishing one potential rereading, I purposefully picked up the book and read.
And the book lived up to its memory. I loved it for a second time. The story was familiar, but I was amazed at how much I had forgotten. There were characters that I hadn't remembered at all. There were subplots that hadn't meant anything to me as a child and were therefore forgotten. And the ending surprised me. I'm not sure how I had forgotten it. Although the characters were the same I read this like a brand-new book. And it got me thinking. I wonder how many of my childhood favorites would be worth going back to reread? How many stories have I forgotten enough of that they would be worth revisiting? I might have to go through my shelves. And create a stack to reread. After all, if it hadn't been for the illustrations, I would never have picked up this wonderful tale again.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Underground New York Public Library
The Undiscovered Self by Carl Jung
As a librarian and a lover of books, I love to see other people reading. As I keep hearing about the death of books and how less people are reading, I keep a look out for people who are bucking the trend. I'm a huge fan of paper books and although I have no issues with e-readers, I think that you lose some of the connection to the book. Plus when I see a reader, I often try to peek to see what book they are enjoying. That's tougher with an e-reader.
(Left) The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks,
(Right) The Five People You Meet in Heaven
Because of this love for paper books, I've become a huge fan of the blog, the Underground New York Public Library. The blogger (Ourit Ben-Haim) is a photographer who travels the New York City subway, taking pictures of people she finds reading. The Reading Riders are then posted along with the title of the book they were reading. It's a fantastic blog that offers people watching, reading suggestions, and a reminder that print books are not yet dead.
Catch 22 by Joseph Heller
The blogger is a street photographer and most of the subjects are not aware that they are being photographed. I love how absorbed in their books they seem. When a photo cannot be taken unaware, the blogger is careful to explain the project and then ask the person to go back to reading. Once they are engrossed again, that's when the shot gets taken. It's all about catching a reader in that moment of engagement with the book. They always look so much more relaxed than the other riders. It's a wonderful image of the diversity of readers and their books of choice. Plus I come away from this blog with a ton of new books to read. Perfect.
Great Short Works of Dostoyevski
Monday, March 5, 2012
Hiding, Reading, and a Possible Theft
A couple weeks ago I had made a comment about disappearing as part of my Poetry Friday posts. I'm sure that for some of you that sounds a bit like a joke. I can't really disappear of course. But I do go into hiding on a somewhat regular basis. This weekend was one of them. Other than breakfast on Saturday with Jeff and a brief drive that day, I haven't left the house since Friday. I did check email for most of the weekend. I certainly didn't write any. I grumbled whenever the phone rang. Other than occasionally checking Facebook and a video chat this afternoon I had almost no contact with the outside word. I was a hermit this weekend. Lately I'm feeling overwhelmed. This was my way to cope. It appears to have worked. I feel refreshed now.
What I did this weekend was read. I read five books this weekend. Most of them were young adult so it isn't the grand achievement that it sounds like. I burrowed into the couch and read some of the classic YA stories that I've heard so much about. I read Ursula LeGuin's A Wizard of Earthsea, Lloyd Alexander's The Book of Three, Susan Coolidge's What Katy Did, and E. Nesbit's Five Children and It. I made another library run to pick up a graphic novel called Page by Paige which has to be one of the most brilliant books for creative people I've ever read. I copied tons of quotes out of it. I must own it. The reading was good this weekend. I might (and I mean might) continue on with the Earthsea series, and you know how I feel about series. I lost myself in books this weekend. And found some wonderful characters.
I also received a bill that has me a little worried. On Saturday Jeff picked up the mail and noticed that there was a bill from one of the local health providers. It was addressed to me, but was for someone I don't know. Nothing about the name was familiar. After losing my wallet in February I was terrified that this person had used my insurance. Of course no one was open on Saturday or Sunday. So today I called. I guess this person was seen at the hospital and gave my name as a guarantor. I'm pissed. I concerned that this is a case of identify theft. Or that this person has my wallet. I was kind of hoping that whoever had found it had just taken the case and tossed the rest of the wallet. Now suddenly I'm not so sure. I've talked to the hospital and their billing and the issue has been resolved. But there is a feeling of uneasiness in my mind. What other bills will I be getting? And who is this person? Thankfully I research people for a living. Time to do some digging on my possible thief.
What I did this weekend was read. I read five books this weekend. Most of them were young adult so it isn't the grand achievement that it sounds like. I burrowed into the couch and read some of the classic YA stories that I've heard so much about. I read Ursula LeGuin's A Wizard of Earthsea, Lloyd Alexander's The Book of Three, Susan Coolidge's What Katy Did, and E. Nesbit's Five Children and It. I made another library run to pick up a graphic novel called Page by Paige which has to be one of the most brilliant books for creative people I've ever read. I copied tons of quotes out of it. I must own it. The reading was good this weekend. I might (and I mean might) continue on with the Earthsea series, and you know how I feel about series. I lost myself in books this weekend. And found some wonderful characters.
I also received a bill that has me a little worried. On Saturday Jeff picked up the mail and noticed that there was a bill from one of the local health providers. It was addressed to me, but was for someone I don't know. Nothing about the name was familiar. After losing my wallet in February I was terrified that this person had used my insurance. Of course no one was open on Saturday or Sunday. So today I called. I guess this person was seen at the hospital and gave my name as a guarantor. I'm pissed. I concerned that this is a case of identify theft. Or that this person has my wallet. I was kind of hoping that whoever had found it had just taken the case and tossed the rest of the wallet. Now suddenly I'm not so sure. I've talked to the hospital and their billing and the issue has been resolved. But there is a feeling of uneasiness in my mind. What other bills will I be getting? And who is this person? Thankfully I research people for a living. Time to do some digging on my possible thief.
Monday, February 13, 2012
War and Peace
It started because I didn't have anything to read over my lunch hour. I apparently can't eat lunch without reading. My lunch plans had cancelled at the last minute so I had grabbed a sandwich and brought it back to the office. Now the issue of a book. I hoped on Project Gutenberg. I can always find a classic to read. As I browsed the authors, the name caught my eye. Tolstoy. There is something about reading Tolstoy in the winter. Something about curling up with a long book that talks about snow and cold while I'm comfortable inside. I'd read Anna Karenina a couple winter's ago. I decided that this year it would be War and Peace.
I knew nothing about the novel other than that it was long and most people consider it a classic. I assume it had something to do with...well...war and peace, shockingly. So I clicked on the link and started to read about the Prince Vasili and his witty banter with the duchess about the upcoming war with Napoleon. And slowly the book started to pull me in. I read three chapters before the lunch hour ended. I wrote down the number of my next chapter and went back to work. The next day I was back. I purposefully left my book at home so I could read more Tolstoy. I picked up where I left off and learned about the scheming Princess Anna who will do anything to find her son a good job.
Each day it was the same, two or three chapters over lunch to tide me over. I felt like I was making progress. I was really moving through the book. That is until I picked up a print copy over the weekend. I was a bit shocked at the size of the book. Weighing in at 1400 pages, it's a hefty tome. I've only finished book 2. I'm a little over 250 pages in and haven't even scratched the surface. I'm reading about war now, the early battles between the Russians and the French. My dad mentioned that I should read the book with a notebook to write down and keep track of characters. This wikipedia list is enough to make me dizzy. But still, I'm determined. And I'm enjoying. So breaking my typical rule of one book at a time I think I'll make War and Peace my lunchtime book and read other things in between. Otherwise I'll go insane or I'll never finish. Tolstoy is wonderful but he can be a bit...we'll say wordy....sometimes.
I knew nothing about the novel other than that it was long and most people consider it a classic. I assume it had something to do with...well...war and peace, shockingly. So I clicked on the link and started to read about the Prince Vasili and his witty banter with the duchess about the upcoming war with Napoleon. And slowly the book started to pull me in. I read three chapters before the lunch hour ended. I wrote down the number of my next chapter and went back to work. The next day I was back. I purposefully left my book at home so I could read more Tolstoy. I picked up where I left off and learned about the scheming Princess Anna who will do anything to find her son a good job.
Each day it was the same, two or three chapters over lunch to tide me over. I felt like I was making progress. I was really moving through the book. That is until I picked up a print copy over the weekend. I was a bit shocked at the size of the book. Weighing in at 1400 pages, it's a hefty tome. I've only finished book 2. I'm a little over 250 pages in and haven't even scratched the surface. I'm reading about war now, the early battles between the Russians and the French. My dad mentioned that I should read the book with a notebook to write down and keep track of characters. This wikipedia list is enough to make me dizzy. But still, I'm determined. And I'm enjoying. So breaking my typical rule of one book at a time I think I'll make War and Peace my lunchtime book and read other things in between. Otherwise I'll go insane or I'll never finish. Tolstoy is wonderful but he can be a bit...we'll say wordy....sometimes.
Friday, December 30, 2011
Words Create Worlds
Edit: Shortly after putting this up I thought to link to Anagram Bookshop only to find that it closed at the end of last year. :-(
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Best Intentions
I made a list on Friday of things I was going to get done this weekend. I came home energized that night with the idea that I would be sitting on Sunday with every single task crossed off my list. I had the best intentions.
But not a single task was finished. Not a single chore was done. Heck I didn't even keep up with my online reading or blogs. Instead I've spent my weekend curled up knitting with Jeff or reading. I curled up in the house and read like books were disappearing tomorrow. I read three books this weekend. And I couldn't be happier. It has been a blissful weekend.
On Friday I started The City of Ember, a young adult novel about a town surrounded by darkness. For a long time the town had been supplied by endless storehouses and lit by gigantic floodlights on top of the buildings. But the storehouses are being exhausted and the lights are starting to flicker. Two brave young adults decide that they have to find a way to save their city and find a way to save the light. I put this book on par with The Hunger Games, which is pretty high praise. Those two books have kept me gripped from beginning to end. They both have strong characters and odd plots that I really got into. A good read.
I just finished the third installment of The Penderwick series. I don't normally read series. I generally have rules against doing so. I have boxes and bookcases filled with books waiting to be read. So I tend to avoid reading authors over and over. Particularly when they are talking about the same characters as before. The same way I hate sequels I hate series. But the Penderwicks are different. I read the first book years ago and feel completely in love with the sisters and their family. It is like reading Little Women over and over but with modern characters. And wonderful dialogue and plots. Jeannie Birdsall even throws in some fun Latin phrases to keep me entertained. I am completely in love with these books. They are stand alone books but I just can't pass up a new installment of the sister's adventures.
The last book I'll be doing a full review of later. I'm not ready to talk about it. Needless to say I read it straight through, only stopping for showers and dinner (and even sometimes not the latter). I grew up reading at the table and in the bathroom and stretched out on the floor and before bed. This weekend I've read in the morning and most of the evenings. I've gotten nothing done but I wouldn't trade these days for anything. What a wonderful time.
But not a single task was finished. Not a single chore was done. Heck I didn't even keep up with my online reading or blogs. Instead I've spent my weekend curled up knitting with Jeff or reading. I curled up in the house and read like books were disappearing tomorrow. I read three books this weekend. And I couldn't be happier. It has been a blissful weekend.
On Friday I started The City of Ember, a young adult novel about a town surrounded by darkness. For a long time the town had been supplied by endless storehouses and lit by gigantic floodlights on top of the buildings. But the storehouses are being exhausted and the lights are starting to flicker. Two brave young adults decide that they have to find a way to save their city and find a way to save the light. I put this book on par with The Hunger Games, which is pretty high praise. Those two books have kept me gripped from beginning to end. They both have strong characters and odd plots that I really got into. A good read.
I just finished the third installment of The Penderwick series. I don't normally read series. I generally have rules against doing so. I have boxes and bookcases filled with books waiting to be read. So I tend to avoid reading authors over and over. Particularly when they are talking about the same characters as before. The same way I hate sequels I hate series. But the Penderwicks are different. I read the first book years ago and feel completely in love with the sisters and their family. It is like reading Little Women over and over but with modern characters. And wonderful dialogue and plots. Jeannie Birdsall even throws in some fun Latin phrases to keep me entertained. I am completely in love with these books. They are stand alone books but I just can't pass up a new installment of the sister's adventures.
The last book I'll be doing a full review of later. I'm not ready to talk about it. Needless to say I read it straight through, only stopping for showers and dinner (and even sometimes not the latter). I grew up reading at the table and in the bathroom and stretched out on the floor and before bed. This weekend I've read in the morning and most of the evenings. I've gotten nothing done but I wouldn't trade these days for anything. What a wonderful time.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Rainy Day Reading
I had so much that I was going to get done today. I had been so productive last night and I was looking forward to really making progress on a couple of projects today. I have a letter for our homeowners association that I need to draft in the next day or so. That hung over my head all day. I have a house that severely needs to be cleaned out. We have reached that extremely cluttered stage that drives me crazy. I had some writing I was going to get done. But I woke up late this morning with a headache (stupid wine) so instead I drank endless pots of coffee, ate most of a loaf of beer bread, and spent the entire day reading.
I'm currently reading Salt: A World History by Mark Kurlansky which is a rather fascinating history of how the salt trade and production has shaped our world. I got interested in the book after reading At Home by Bill Bryson last week. Bryson had done a small section on salt and pepper for his dining room section. He didn't list where the salt information came from but when I found the book at the bookstore, I figured I'd found a definitive history. I love seeing how one product has impacted us so immensely. I would rank Salt right up there with A History of the World in Six Glasses as one of the more incredible food based histories I've read.
I read some of Salt, but the rainy day called for a little lighter fare today. So it was off to the library to return my stack of books and pick up more pictures books for my 1001 Children's Book Challenge. I picked up a brand new stack. I can't seem to leave the library without at least a dozen books. I brought them home and lay on the floor reading, like I was 10 again. I even started craving hot chocolate. I laughed and I marveled. So many of the books were just great. Diary of a Wombat by Jackie French made me laugh so hard I snorted. Even Jeff was surprised at how hard I was laughing. Joyful Noise, Poems in Two Voices has such interesting insect poems that I found myself rereading the poems over and over. A Van Allsburg made me gasp at the beauty of the illustrations. It wasn't the most productive day but it was a good one. A perfect rainy day.
I'm currently reading Salt: A World History by Mark Kurlansky which is a rather fascinating history of how the salt trade and production has shaped our world. I got interested in the book after reading At Home by Bill Bryson last week. Bryson had done a small section on salt and pepper for his dining room section. He didn't list where the salt information came from but when I found the book at the bookstore, I figured I'd found a definitive history. I love seeing how one product has impacted us so immensely. I would rank Salt right up there with A History of the World in Six Glasses as one of the more incredible food based histories I've read.
I read some of Salt, but the rainy day called for a little lighter fare today. So it was off to the library to return my stack of books and pick up more pictures books for my 1001 Children's Book Challenge. I picked up a brand new stack. I can't seem to leave the library without at least a dozen books. I brought them home and lay on the floor reading, like I was 10 again. I even started craving hot chocolate. I laughed and I marveled. So many of the books were just great. Diary of a Wombat by Jackie French made me laugh so hard I snorted. Even Jeff was surprised at how hard I was laughing. Joyful Noise, Poems in Two Voices has such interesting insect poems that I found myself rereading the poems over and over. A Van Allsburg made me gasp at the beauty of the illustrations. It wasn't the most productive day but it was a good one. A perfect rainy day.
Friday, July 15, 2011
Poetry Friday
It's been a long time since I posted a poem to the blog. I've been missing Poetry Fridays. And since my last post was so rambling and incoherent, I figured I would share a very beautiful and sparse little poem that touches me every time I read it. I read poetry and books and discover the secret on a regular basis. But I always forget.
The Secret
by Denise Levertov
Two girls discover
the secret of life
in a sudden line of
poetry.
I who don't know the
secret wrote
the line. They
told me
(through a third person)
they had found it
but not what it was
not even
what line it was. No doubt
by now, more than a week
later, they have forgotten
the secret,
the line, the name of
the poem. I love them
for finding what
I can't find,
and for loving me
for the line I wrote,
and for forgetting it
so that
a thousand times, till death
finds them, they may
discover it again, in other
lines
in other
happenings. And for
wanting to know it,
for
assuming there is
such a secret, yes
for that
most of all.
The Secret
by Denise Levertov
Two girls discover
the secret of life
in a sudden line of
poetry.
I who don't know the
secret wrote
the line. They
told me
(through a third person)
they had found it
but not what it was
not even
what line it was. No doubt
by now, more than a week
later, they have forgotten
the secret,
the line, the name of
the poem. I love them
for finding what
I can't find,
and for loving me
for the line I wrote,
and for forgetting it
so that
a thousand times, till death
finds them, they may
discover it again, in other
lines
in other
happenings. And for
wanting to know it,
for
assuming there is
such a secret, yes
for that
most of all.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
I'm Late, I'm Late
The White Rabbit by Sir. John Tenniel
I'm a huge Alice in Wonderland fan. I've read the books a couple dozen times and wrote a post about the Annotated Alice which Keith (one of my wonderful readers) had recommended. So I could think of nothing better to kick off this post than the white rabbit's mantra. I'm so late at getting posts out that it's not funny. I'm falling behind. I keep worrying that my posts aren't perfect so I don't post a damn thing. So today that changes. I'm going to post crap some days. Be warned. These last three weeks I haven't posted because I am feverishly reading children's books and young adult novels. Several years ago my mother purchased the book 1001 Children's Books that You Must Read Before You Grow Up. So I'm trying to read them. So far I have about 200 under my belt. And I apparently want to finish the other 800 this week. I've made five trips to the library in the last two weeks. All of them (except one) have included more than a dozen books. I read a chapter book today.
Now I'm not likely to finish anytime soon. Many of the books are international stories that might be a bit tricky to find. But I'm going to try. I like having a goal. Even if it is a bit on the outrageous side. But I'm going to try not to let this take me away from everything else. "Everything in moderation." A lesson I still haven't learned. I'll keep you posted.
PS. If you haven't managed to read Lewis Carroll's brilliant but odd Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, you need to find a copy. Start tonight. Then let me know what you think.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Busy As a Bee
Bees have been compared to everything from monarchies, republics, anarchies, and nurseries. If that seems contradictory, it is. I just saw an ad on TV for Jack Daniels Tennessee Honey Whiskey which uses a rebellious male bee as its mascot. For centuries humans thought that the bees were ruled by a king who sent his soldiers out to do battle and gather provisions. Aristotle once said that bees had to be ruled by a male because no one would ever give weapons to females. Of course now we know that the hive is ruled by one true female. Workers are undeveloped females and drones (the males) are really only there to eat honey for a short bit of time, mate, and then die in the process. Like the Praying Mantis, the male bee doesn't survive his encounter. After mating season ends the surviving drones will be starved.
Bees are one of the only untamed creatures that provide food for humans. And bees have never been tamed. They can and do swarm at any time, fleeing from a hive where things aren't right to find a colony which is better. The flowers surrounding a hive will flavor the honey. Tastes can run anywhere from divine lavender honey to the rather gritty and foul rapeseed honey. An apiary out on New York just discovered that its honey was turning red. The bees were visiting the maraschino cherry factory next door for the sugary red syrup. I can only imagine what that honey tastes like. Now I'm fascinated by the idea of tasting as many types of honey as I can. Mostly I've only had clover honey. Now I'm ready for something more exotic.
The thing that really shocked me though while reading this book was the number of mistaken assumptions about bees. Up until the 1700s it was believed that bees sprang from a dead oxen prepared in a special way. Bees, who hate the smell of decay, were supposed to spontaneously generate from oxen. This wasn't just a superstition. It was practiced. It was also believed that bees (being chaste of all sex) could tell someone who wasn't. It was common practice for intended brides to be sent through an apiary. If she emerged unscathed, she was a virgin. If she was stung, well...the wedding was off. During the times of the crusades it was believed that bees would fight in wars for the good of heart. I can't think of another creature that is so iconic, and so misunderstood. Beehives are the icons of industry even today. I'm just starting to notice how often bees pop up in advertising or in products for sale.
This was a fascinating book and I'm suddenly really excited about the idea of trying more honey. I'm also growing more and more excited about the idea of someday keeping bees myself. I've been reading accounts of beekeepers, looking at video of apiaries, and of course trying honey. I know it won't happen for a long long time. But suddenly I'm excited about the idea of bees. And learning more about these amazing creatures.
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