The Next Dark Age
We're in it Now
The Lace Reader, by Brunonia Barry
I pulled The Lace Reader by Brunonia Barry out of a pile of donations to price at the Used Book Store and I don’t know why the heck I started reading it. The heroine begins by outing herself as a liar, which turned me off in a big way. Then she amended the statement to say that she is crazy. Either way, an “unreliable narrator”.
Well. That is slightly more interesting. After a chapter, I decided to buy it myself.
Towner has returned to her hometown of Salem, Massachusetts because her great-aunt Eva has disappeared. They are a family of psychics that can see flashes of the future in lace. Towner has rejected her blahblahblah, moved to sunny California and never meant to return. She arrives at Eva’s house and Eva is there, telling her to rest or whatever. She falls asleep and Eva’s body is found in the water about a million miles away. That wasn’t heavy-handed or anything.
You have the “mother”, May, who lives on an island running a sort of shelter/commune of abused women and children. She seems to have been inspired after Towners’ twin sister, Lindley, who was sexually abused by her father, killed herself. The father is now a born-again bastard with a band of evil followers that exorcise demons at a nearby campground. Seriously. There is also a sub-plot with another young victim and then there is the local cop/love interest.
The big reveal first occurred to me at about the halfway point of the novel, and I felt stupid for not seeing it sooner. I don’t want to SPOILER anything here, but hello, My Sweet Audrina
Also, there are several interesting supporting characters that I enjoyed, such that I could envision the WB television adaptation: sort of a Gilmore Girls meets The Medium. I’d watch that show.
So. While the ending was almost entirely expected, the ride was pretty fun.
Toronto: Day 2
I was never really into the Goth scene, but I can tell that I still have some tendencies because I end up in the original cemetery in every city that I visit. In my defense, the Necropolis (no joke) was actually part of the random “city strolls” in my travel guide.
The “cabbage town” tour started only a few blocks from my hotel, so I headed out early. The first stop was a park where they have a conservatory that wasn’t yet open and two fenced in areas for dogs to play off leash. I found this thrilling until I saw the dogs that were not allowed off leash. Female dogs in heat (ok), unneutered male dogs (hm. I wonder how they pulled that off), dogs that had been required by the courts to be muzzled (ok) and Pit Bulls.
Bastards.
On my way out, I saw a group of people practicing tai chi. Nice.
I walked through the residential neighborhoods and they were gorgeous. Old Victorians. At the end was the Necropolis. Here is the chapel:
I think it is weird to get all excited about “gothic architecture when it is covered in ivy, but whatever. Heading inside:
Then I went through and saw the crypt where the remains of the cremated people were. Note to Mom: ashes should be scattered. Then to the cemetery.
The place is still in use and there were several recent markers. One that struck me right by the entrance was a 12-year old girl who died in 1975. She had a shiny new memorial because her mother died at age 65 last fall and was buried with her. I couldn’t make myself take a picture of that one.
I took a few shots of older and interesting stones, then moved on to the Riverdale Farm. An actual working farm in a park in the city. It was cute, but there were too many kids, so I moved on. The walk continued past the earliest public housing in Toronto where, seriously, I would live. You know, if it had a heated garage. Which it might, as it has gone co-op. Then I managed to find a street car back to my hotel.
I made a stop at the hotel to see about booking a trip to Niagara Falls tomorrow. Successful. Then I took the subway to Yorkville, thinking that I would have lunch and go to the museum. Yorkville seems to be the upscale, trendy neighborhood. (yawn). I had a club sandwich outside at Remy’s, which was perfectly lovely. But the bathrooms leave something to be desired.
By then, the museum seemed lame, so I walked over to Queen’s Park. Where there is a statue of a man on a horse. So now I’m ticked. It is Queen’s Park. There should be a lady on the horse! Who the heck is this guy?!
The answer is Edward VII who dedicated the park in whatever year in the name of his mother, Queen Victoria. Hrmmph. Fine.
Then I went by this building, which was still in the park and may have been part of the university but I forget. It’s just pretty.
By the time I walked back to my hotel, I had put 7.5 miles on my little pedometer, which is why I am online at 4pm. I seem to remember walking by a cute little Italian place this morning, so perhaps I will head in that direction for dinner. Or perhaps I wil just go to the McDonalds across the street.
Toronto: First Impressions
My first impression of Toronto was, “Oh, yeah. It’s another country and stuff.” My second impression was, “It’s just like Chicago.”
Those wretched storms delayed my flight by about 90 minutes, which is not a tragedy. When we finally arrive, I followed the nice signage to the customs agent. He eyed me suspiciously when I said I was traveling alone and would not be visiting friends or family. I picked up my bag and went to the ATM.
It is against my programming to use a strange ATM. I can’t stand the fees. And since I just learned that both of my credit cards have something called a “foreign service fee”, I really had to use it. Around that time, it occurred to me that my phone might have international fees attached. I e-mailed my mother to look. Sure enough:
Calls are 79 cents a minute. Texts are 50 cents each. Emails are a dollar if they are short enough. Thankfully, the hotel room wi-fi is free.
I had made a reservation with an airport shuttle service. $20 for a lift into town, but the nearest shuttle stop is three blocks from my hotel. It is raining. Then I started looking out the window. Home Depot. Wal-Mart. Best Buy. (rolls eyes).
I checked in, soaking wet. Guy at the desk asked what I planned to do that day. I don’t want to be an Ugly American, but. Really? It is 3:30 pm and I am soaking wet. I am going to dry off and do nothing. So that’s what I told him. But nicely. He upgraded me to a corner room with a balcony. It is a tiny room with a tiny balcony, but still. The view (from a 90 degree angle off the balcony):
There is a 24-hour drugstore down the street so I picked up a case of Coke Diete and some snacks for the week. Going down the snack aisle I saw all the different Canadian things and got all excited. I settled on organic gummy cola bottles (apparently, “organic” in French is “biologique” and a Nestle candy called Coffee Crisp. It seems to be like a Kit Kat, but chubbier and coffee flavored. Awesome. And then I found a little diner around the corner. I was going to get a simple grilled cheese sandwich and a cup of soup, but the guy next to me wouldn’t shut up about the mac and cheese. Then the jerk went and ordered lasagna. But I think I might eat there every single day.
So. I couldn’t seem to book a Niagara Falls trip online, but I will look into that tomorrow. And the weather will be better, so I will try one of the walking tours in my little Frommer’s book. But for now? Reading novels and eating gummy cola bottles. That say “Bio Cola” on them.
Now You’ve Gone Too Far
Listen. I don’t watch Fox News. I couldn’t pick Glenn Beck out of a lineup. I don’t even know what “The Blackest White Folks” means. But to call Brian Urlacher a neo-Nazi because..you don’t recognize him? You don’t like his haircut?
Puleeze.
Luggage
My old friend, Dave, posted on Facebook last week that he was packing for a vacation. Four hours before his flight was due to depart. He made it.
I am not that bad, but I am getting there. Joy has been known to take a vacation day before a business trip so that she can pack. I am getting on a plane in 12 hours and I haven’t packed anything but my carry on liquids. I haven’t even picked out my luggage.
When I was young, I wondered why the heck anyone needed more than one suitcase. In college, I had two big duffle bags, but only because one held my bedding – the only thing I couldn’t trust to ship to school. Now, I have different pieces of luggage for every freakin’ occasion.
- My regular big, square suitcase; monogrammed. I pretty well abandoned it after the airlines started charging for luggage that weighed more than 50 pounds.
- My rolling duffle, which I use for regular trips. It has to be checked – but it has never checked in at more than 50 pounds.
- Mini-rolling duffle, which holds clothes for two-ish days.
- Last year I found a rolling laptop bag, which I don’t dare to take on regional jets because I am not sure it will fit under the seat and I will not accept checking a laptop. There is also my backpack, in which I jam the laptop on shorter trips and those that involve regional jets.
- Oh, and whatever handbag I think would be most useful for any given journey.
I am actually a rather light packer, notorious for forgetting toothpaste and stuff. So the fact that I have all of this luggage is just extravagant.
I am not proud of this.
I really start to have trouble because I try to just leave stuff in the bags. It just seems easier. An umbrella, for instance. Or my key to the Washington Office. Or my Metro card (that still has $12.45 on it). I have lost my key to my regular office and I am sure it is in some bag or another that I took on a trip. Oh, and my passport.
I have that, Mom.
I mention this because right now I am waiting for my laundry and trying to figure out the best packing strategy. This is particularly lame in that I just throw my clothes into the bag – there is no method. There’s just…what do I want to lug around for five days?
Mid Week in Review
My niece, Ashlyn, was christened on Saturday. Check out Ainslie. Playing in the baptimsal font. The priest said she could. She got soaking wet and got my brother soaking wet, as he had to carry her out of the church. Heh.
During lunch afterward, I was reminded of a big-deal social faux paux that requires addressing:
Do not discuss a woman’s pregnancy with her unless you know her very well and are very, very sure that she is actually pregnant.
People – there are few more awkward situations than those between a woman and the fool that has mistaken her for being pregnant. When Becky was pregnant, she actually taught this rule to her class of 11-year olds. It is important.
Anyway. I spent part of the day, the last four days in a row, at my brother’s house because my father is in town. Monday was another of Alex’s t-ball games. By yesterday, the kids were all cranky. I’ve had meetings all week and seven more scheduled over the next two days. Then I am on vacation.
And I am thisclose to booking something for this winter, too.
The Prices Don’t Always Go Down
http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=leartojugg-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B002QCJO0M&fc1=000000&IS2=1<1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifrI remember being warned about the Amazon Kindle:
The prices of the books are more fluid. The ones that are showing up as freebies today may not be freebies tomorrow. Fair enough.
You might remember that back in January, I downloaded the Sookie Stackhouse 8-Copy Boxed Set. It is the first eight books in the series that inspired True Blood. I paid $28.80; more than I normally like to spend, (particularly for e-books) but a bargain if I really end up liking them.
I was just scrolling through the bestsellers list on the Kindle and there it was again. Number 163. Selling for $55.99.
You have been warned.
I Don’t Beat It, I Join It
Weekend Assignment #327: Beat the Heat!
Summer is well underway now. If you live in the northern hemisphere, the days are long and the sun is on its way to being about as hot as it gets in your particular climate. How do you stay cool when the weather gets hot?
Extra Credit: If you’ve ever relocated hundreds of miles to a new home, did the climate play a role in your decision to move?
How cute. Weekend Assignment thinks I am trying to stay cool in the summer heat.
I have several friends that are going to throw tomatoes at me for saying it but: I am perfectly fine with the 90 degree weather. My favorite part of it is when the sun goes down, it is dark outside and still 80+ degrees. I think that air conditioning is a necessary evil – albeit stressing the word necessary. I barely even use it in my car.
At the end of the work day, I just want to open my sunroof for the cruise home. I keep a hat in my car because I have been wrecking my skin the last few summers with the open sunroof. I will shut the roof and use the a/c if:
1. It is raining
2. I am on the highway going highway speed for more than 15 minutes
3. For whatever odd reason (like my niece’s christening yesterday), I have done my hair. Or my dad is in the car.
I like all four seasons. Late winter sometimes gets to me, but I would miss the snow if I never saw it again. However. If I could only have one season for the rest of my life, it would be summer.
Except for going away to school, I have never relocated. While the weather didn’t play a role in the selection, I did notice and appreciate the milder winters in Washington DC. Although it is worth noting that I never had to spend a July there, either. I wonder whether I would feel the same about summer if I had.
The Outsiders, by S.E. Hinton
The Outsiders, by S.E. Hinton, was one of the first books I was required to read in school. 6th grade. It remains one of my favorites. I found a..what’s it called when the book is the size of a mass market paperback, has the same cover as a mass market paperback, but is actually hardcover?..well, I found one of those in great shape at the Wings Resale shop a couple of weeks ago for 75 cents. In fact, it was half that because everything in the store was 50% off, but that is another story. Incidentally, my copy is the 20th anniversary edition with the cover pulled from the film. The one to the left is the 40th anniversary edition.
This young adult novel divided the world into two camps, the heros were the greasers and the baddies were the Socs. Our narrator, Ponyboy, tells the story of how his universe was turned upside down and trying to figure out just what exactly is the difference between a greaser and a Soc. What really separates them.
The answer is that it isn’t really that the Socs have all the money and the greasers are all hoods. The token chick in the book, a Soc named Cherry, helped him get to this:
“It’s not money, it’s feeling – you don’t feel anything and we feel too violently.”
I remember first reading that in class. I remember getting it. I remember thinking that I was closer to being a Soc than to being a greaser. I was not pleased.
The Outsiders is also the first place I remember learning the concept of “Suicide by cop”. When I finally heard that term years later, my first thought was (SPOILER): “Yeah. Like Dallas Winston.”:
“Dallas raised the gun and I thought: You blasted fool. They don’t know you’re only bluffing. And even as the policemen’s guns spit fire into the night, I knew that was what Dally wanted. He was jerked half around by the impact of the bullets, then slowly crumpled with a look of grim triumph on his face. He was dead before he hit the ground….I knew he would be dead because Dally Winston wanted to be dead and he always got what he wanted.”
I did not, at age 11, understand why in hell anyone would do such a thing. And that is why I have re-read this thing about a dozen times. It is a short novel and if you haven’t gotten to it yet, you are seriously missing something.
Book Club Bandwagon
Have you noticed there are bookclubs everywhere? And bookclub websites everywhere. I may have mentioned that my library offers a “book club in a bag” that includes ten copies of a book and a lending period of six weeks. It is rather popular.
My alma mater, American University, is launching a book club featuring the work of alumni. Very sporting of them, I think. I might even be interested in reading the books, although it is unlikely that I’d be able to attend any of the campus gatherings. In fact, I generaly have trouble with that part. The showing up. I read most of the titles the Chicago Public Library picks for One Book One Chicago, but I’ve never bothered to attend a discussion. I keep looking at the myriad of book clubs that my own library runs, but I haven’t joined one yet. I participate in one small book club with a group of friends.
AU’s first pick is from Carolyn Parkhurst. I read an earlier title from her and couldn’t stand it, I am sorry to say. Perhaps with different subject matter…
This summer, I have two goals: Anne’s Official Summer Epic – The Brothers Karamazov, and the goal foolishly laid out for The Weekend Assignment – reading each of the “souvenir” books I have picked up while travelling. I think I have two down and four to go, assuming that I buy nothing in Toronto.
Now if I could only get off the Internet.
The Next Dark Age 