two-wheeled thoughts: Anonymous

two-wheeled thoughts

Good health to all, good pleasure, good speed,
A favoring breeze – but not too high
For the homeward spin! Who rides may read
The open secret of earth and sky.
–Anonymous, Scribner’s Magazine, June 1895, as quoted in Around the World on Two Wheels

And today I must add: my knee is getting better. I’m out of PT and back on the bike, on shorter road rides (yesterday I got up to 3 hours, although it was depressingly challenging). Today is a happy day: I am off to Huntsville State Park for my first mountain biking in almost 3 months! Cross your fingers for my knee and my fitness level. 🙂 If I’m not too unhappy with my performance I’d love to race the Dave Boyd Memorial Huntsville race in a few weeks…

Those are my two-wheeled thoughts for the day.

Some Tame Gazelle by Barbara Pym

I have finished reading one of the two books that Thomas of My Porch sent me. You done good, Thomas, I found it charming and funny. Pym is not entirely different from another Barbara I recently discovered, through Stuck in a Book: Barbara Comyns, whose Who Was Changed and Who Was Dead I really enjoyed. Simon, Thomas, anyone, if you can help me come up with a better genre tag for these ladies than “misc fiction,” I’d be obliged. Do these count as “domestic fiction” or whatever they call Jane Austen? Sorry, I’ll get on with it…

Some Tame Gazelle is the story of two spinster sisters, Belinda and Harriet, in a little English village in the 1950’s or thereabouts. We get the story from Belinda’s perspective primarily. She’s the dowdier and more humble of the two sisters, and her day-to-day life revolves, perhaps more than she realizes, around the local Archdeacon, who she knows and still loves as Henry from their school days. Henry is married, of course, and she resignedly sighs and gently envies his difficult wife Agatha, with whom he does not seem entirely happy, and alternately resolves to be a friend to her. Harriet, on the other hand, is still regularly refusing marriage proposals (mostly from the same man, Ricardo, an Italian count who Belinda rather wishes she would marry). Harriet is a bit sillier and prouder than her sister, but they depend on each other and are very much settled in their life together.

We read about this little village, where the sisters have tea, buy groceries, attend church, and help out with church functions. Where Belinda is devoted to the Archdeacon and worries over what garments she can appropriately knit for him, Harriet attaches herself to one curate after another and teases Ricardo and criticizes Belinda’s beloved Henry. Day follows day.

Sort of like what I said about the Comyns novel, this is a quiet book; there aren’t loud noises; you don’t jump in your seat. But my, is it ever quietly funny. Pym is compared to Austen, which I guess makes sense, but they’re not so similar you’d confuse them or anything. Part of this I suppose is the subject matter, that is, spinster ladies vs young women chasing marriageable men of independent wealth. (And I haven’t done my Pym research so don’t know if this is her standard subject material.) But I suppose the tone is comparable to Austen: people are so confined by custom and what the neighbors might think that they do silly things, and worry about silly things, and certain gentlemen do even sillier things that the women make excuses for. It’s a humor of quiet, respectable absurdity.

It also has in common with Austen, a female preoccupation with marriage. I don’t want to give anything away, but there are marriage proposals and there are weddings (okay, only one is onscreen), and there is much agonizing over marriage. There is also some rather blasphemous talk of spouse-switching – all completely theoretical and private, of course.

This book is set firmly in religion; most of the main characters are clergy, or obsessed with a member of the clergy, and all are church workers. This was a little foreign for me, someone with no church or religion in her life (don’t pity me, I’m very happy this way, and I don’t like being judged either, thanks) but I think I followed along okay. It’s not “Christian fiction” in any way; the church is just the backdrop. If anything, the church is an object of some merriment too, since the clergy tend to behave at least as ridiculously as anyone else.

Without getting too spoilery, I’m going to stop here in discussion of plot, but I want to note the title. The book opens with a Thomas Haynes Bayly quotation:

Some tame gazelle, or some gentle dove:
Something to love, oh, something to love!

Which perhaps tells us what this book is “about” better than anything.

If you are okay with the spoilers and/or have read this book, highlight the white text below.

One of my favorite things about this book is that it came full circle and we ended up right exactly back where we started. I was worried along with Belinda that one (or the other!) of the sisters was going to accept a marriage proposal, but I was much happier ending with Harriet preparing to dote on a new curate, and back again to the first line. So this is another book in which not much happens – but it’s surprising how satisfying that can be.

Thomas! You are wonderful! Thanks so much. Can’t wait to get into The Home-Maker.

book beginnings on Friday: Into the Silence by Wade Davis


Thanks to Katy at A Few More Pages for hosting this meme. To participate, share the first line or two of the book you are currently reading and, if you feel so moved, let us know what your first impressions were based on that first line.

Into the Silence: The Great War, Mallory, and the Conquest of Everest appears to be a largeish, well-researched, exhaustive coverage of its three overlapping subjects. I’m just a bit into it but am finding it to be gripping, and painful in its discussions of the tragedy that was WWI. You know, I feel like we say this about just about all the wars (and rightfully), but what an awful thing it was…

I am going to give you a double beginning today. The prologue:

On the morning of June 6, 1924, at a camp perched at 23,000 feet on an ice ledge high above the East Rongbuk Glacier and just below the lip of Everest’s North Col, expedition leader Lieutenant Colonel Edward Norton said farewell to two men about the make a final desperate attempt for the summit. At thirty-seven, George Leigh Mallory was Britain’s most illustrious climber.

And chapter one:

On the very day that George Mallory and Sandy Irvine disappeared on Everest, another party of British climbers slowly made their way to the summit of a quite different mountain and in very different circumstances. At 2,949 feet, Great Gable was not a serious or difficult climb, but it was said to be “the most completely beautiful of English mountains.”

So you can see the juxtaposition set up. I find this to be an effective way of linking his topics (see the subtitle) right from the start.

A word on nonfiction book beginnings: Unlike in fiction, where I feel the first lines should always grab or surprise the reader and interest her, I think nonfiction can take one of two routes. I do like to be grabbed in the first lines, of course, and extra points are given for this. But it’s extra credit, not required work. Sometimes nonfiction begins quietly, stating a date, a place, arranging a background, and this I find effective, too. Somehow, with nonfiction, I’m comfortable settling into things with this understated approach, which I think the above falls into.

What are your thoughts? And what are you reading this weekend?

These quotations come from an uncorrected advance proof and are subject to change.

In Cold Blood by Truman Capote (audio)

Truman Capote captured my undivided attention with this medium-largeish* book in remarkable fashion. My first issue for this review: is this fiction, or non? It is most commonly referred to as a “nonfiction novel,” a term I have a lot of trouble with. The story is either based very closely on, or is, the true story of the quadruple murder of the Clutter family in small-town Kansas, and the investigation, arrest, and eventual execution of the two perpetrators. (My library’s OCLC listing calls it “postmodern fiction.”) Capote himself said, “I wanted to produce a journalistic novel, something on a large scale that would have the credibility of fact, the immediacy of film, the depth and freedom of prose, and the precision of poetry.” So, fiction or non? I’m going with fiction, but clearly this is one of those areas where the line blurs. More on that in a bit.**

I came across this book recently in several blogs, which is curious because it’s not new; it was first published serially in Life magazine in 1965, and in book form in 1966. I already had the book on my radar, but these fine fellow bloggers definitely solidified my interest. In telling you about the story, and the book constructed about the story, I’m going to be fairly spoilery, because this is history. If you want to read it yourself and be surprised, I’m not your top-choice review.

So. The subtitle reads, “A True Account of a Multiple Murder.” On the night of November 15, 1959, the Clutter family was bedding down on their farm in Kansas, just outside the small town of Holcomb, itself a suburb of Garden City. Herbert Clutter, the patriarch, was a respected member of the community and devout Methodist; his wife Bonnie had been suffering from depression and had been in and out of hospital, but at this time was home. Sixteen-year-old Nancy, the belle of local society, sweet, talented, generous, and universally beloved, had just sent her boyfriend Bobby home and was getting ready for bed. Fifteen-year-old Kenyon was slightly socially awkward but friendly and respected as a member of a well-liked and important family. The two older Clutter daughters were living on their own outside the home – one married, one about to be.

Meanwhile, two paroled convicts of the Kansas state prison system were on the road. Perry Edward Smith and Richard Eugene “Dick” Hickock had been cellmates and although very different in temperament, had teamed up for an endeavor that Dick described as being the perfect crime. As you’ve already guessed (or already knew), these six characters converge when Dick and Perry kill the Clutters in the night and make off almost as perfectly as Dick imagined. They spend months traveling, living briefly in Mexico where Perry hoped to become a successful treasure hunter, and then roaming the US again until they were apprehended in Las Vegas. They were tried in Kansas, convicted, and finally hanged in April of 1965.

Capote follows both groups of characters – the Clutters, and Perry & Dick – alternately in the days leading up to the night of the murder. Then he follows Perry and Dick in their roaming, and then through their imprisonment and trial, and right up to the hangings. His voice is omnipotent third person, and he quotes extensively from letters, documents, and trial proceedings, as well as from his interviews with various players and especially Dick and Perry themselves. Capote was on the case (so to speak) well before they became suspects, and published after they were killed, so his perspective and the timeline of his coverage is pretty extensive.

But, perhaps not entirely objective. The Clutters are painted in admirable detail, in lovely little vignettes. But their role is minor and short-lived (ouch, pun not intended). And of the two killers, Perry Smith is treated far more sympathetically and examined more deeply. I was pondering this as I listened to the book, wondering if this was all Capote’s apparent subjectivity, or if Perry was inherently more sympathetic; in other words, would I have found him so if I had been researching this case myself? There are a few fairly easy markers for this, at least for me: for one, Dick liked to rape little girls. Perry apparently stopped him from raping Nancy (by both their accounts). Dick ran over stray dogs with his car for fun, which Perry found revolting (as do I, obviously). Perry’s childhood was patently rough, while Dick’s is characterized as fairly normal. Perry seems to more clearly have a mental illness or defect that “causes” his criminal and violent tendencies. But, I’m not sure we get all of Dick’s story; Capote looks much more closely into Perry’s past. So what I’m trying to say is, I think there may be a bias in favor of poor Perry the murderer, having been manipulated by evil Dick. Apparently, it was alleged that Capote in fact had a sexual relationship with Perry while he was imprisoned, although obviously I can’t speak to that. This is not a criticism. I just want to point out that perhaps Capote is not entirely impartial with regards to his two main characters.

I found this book incredibly powerful. Capote has a fine sense of drama and of timing. Scenes and people are sketched artfully, sometimes quickly and with broad strokes that paint a pretty complete picture just briefly, and sometimes in painstaking detail. The stories of the Clutters’ deaths and Dick and Perry’s adventure and executions are fascinating and engrossing, yes. But it’s Capote’s rendering that makes this book, more than his subject matter. (I guess this is always the case.) I was blown away by the emotional effect of this story. I couldn’t get enough; I wanted more of the inside of Perry’s head, of Dick’s (ew, how creepy), of the small-town life of Holcomb and Garden City. This is my first experience with Truman Capote, and I’m a fan.


Also, as Marie said at The Boston Bibliophile, Scott Brick’s narration is excellent. I recommend this book on audio if you’re so inclined. (I also picked up a paperback, though, to have on hand. I never did reference it while listening but I think I’d like to have it for future use.)


*My audio version is 12 cd and 14.5 hours; my paperback edition is just under 400 pages.

**Back to the fact vs. fiction question. It does seem that Capote behaved like a journalist in putting this book together: gathering facts, interviewing key players, confirming dates. It could pass as “true crime,” a genre which itself may have trouble with fact vs. fiction. The biggest place where Capote appears to leave the realm of nonfiction behind is in dialogue; he has recreated a great many pieces of dialogue, mostly between Perry and Dick, that were unrecorded. He has relied upon Perry and Dick themselves in this recreation, I think, but memory being what it is, some creativity definitely come into play. I did note that on the night of the Clutters’ deaths, Capote has not tried to recreate their experience or any dialogue, except in the accounts shared by Perry and Dick in their confessions. This seems to show a reluctance to just “make things up,” and a respect for the question that (I think) still remains: did Perry kill the two male Clutters and Dick the two women, as Perry originally claimed? Or did he Perry kill all four, as he amended his story to say, and as Dick claimed all along? Capote doesn’t answer this question for us – presumably because he respects the fact that he can’t answer it authoritatively. (I do wonder what he thought, though, considering that he apparently was very close to Perry in particular.)

The Hemingway Hoax by Joe Haldeman

This was a delightful short read. The Hemingway Hoax was loaned to me by my friend Amy, librarian (newly, my coworker librarian! yay!), science fiction enthusiast, and science fiction author to boot. (I wrote briefly about one of her short stories here.) After my recent raving about Hemingway’s Boat (my review to come at Shelf Awareness), she lent me her signed, personalized copy, ooooh. It’s an easy read at 150ish pages; I ran right through it at one sitting.

David Baird is a college professor and Hemingway scholar. He and his (much younger, former student) wife are summering in Key West, where they meet a con man with a scheme to “find” the manuscripts of Hemingway’s early short stories, and a partial novel, that H’s first wife Hadley lost on a train in their Paris days. Baird, with his expertise, should be able to successfully forge them. In so doing, however, he gets wrapped up… transported through times… to parallel universes… meets the Hemingways of various eras… or does he? I won’t ruin the whole surprise, but there is time travel and questions about What Is Real. Some bad things happen. Or do they?

I enjoyed the Hoax. It had suspense, interesting characters, intrigue. It had Hemingway! And the Hemingway parts were well done; Haldeman knows his Papa well enough to pull this off without offending the armchair Hemingway scholar. (I didn’t pick it apart or check references or anything but it held together.) And that would have been a deal-breaker for me, of course. Not for the first time, I say: this is sci fi? I thought I didn’t like sci fi! Well done, Amy. You may keep lending me books. Thank you!

Teaser Tuesdays: Die Trying by Lee Child

Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme, hosted by MizB of Should Be Reading. Anyone can play along! Just open your current read to a random page and share a few sentences. Be careful not to include spoilers!



These days I’m listening to Die Trying on audio. It’s the second of the Reacher series; I’m going back and reading the ones I’ve missed in order, catching up. The new one, The Affair, comes out this month. I will probably keep going in order and thus avoid the early rush to it. So, here’s our teaser from page 432:

Holly had wanted to see the sky. She was standing there under the vastest sky Reacher had ever seen.

EDIT: I had to change my teaser because I had quoted the wrong BOOK! I’m so sorry, friends. Stay tuned for the next in the Reacher series, where the first-posted teaser came from…

The Second Son by Lee Child

A slight diversion from the norm here, for Mr. Child as well as for me: he has written a Jack Reacher short story (as opposed to his usual novel), set in Reacher’s childhood (as opposed to adulthood), and here’s the big one – gasp – available only as an e-book, and not in “real” print. I was excited about the first two and not about the third. I have been a late adopter of many forms of technology, and the e-book, while a great thing for a lot of people (even some friends and family, people I KNOW), still scares me and strikes me as a little bit blasphemous. Give me ten years to get used to the idea and maybe I’ll get one someday. But for now, I said, how will I read this Reacher story? My mother bought it for me (thank you Mom) and I went over there on a Saturday afternoon with a brown bag lunch and sat down and read it. So this was an experiment with the e-format, as well as a Reacher story.

So. First, the story. We know Reacher (in the series of novels about him, of which I’ve read 10-and-change of 16) as an adult; I believe he was 36 when we met him in Killing Floor. In The Second Son, he’s 13. As his fans already know, his father is in the military, his mother is French, he has a brother two years older (Joe), and they move constantly – like every few months. The family of four has just arrived in Okinawa, and as usual, the local military kids (who have been there just perhaps a little longer than the Reachers) want to fight Reacher and Joe. (Yes, he went by Reacher even as a kid.) Joe is accused of one crime, and their father of another. Their maternal grandfather is dying, back in France. And Reacher saves the day. I don’t think that’s too spoilery, since he always does.

This was an enjoyable little story. If you normally like Reacher, you’ll like this; it has all the right ingredients. Reacher is a badass; he meets a cute girl and impresses her; he saves the day. If anything, the requisite suspension of disbelief is slightly greater than in the novels, because he’s just a kid here, so his badassery is that much more amazing. There’s one line I found especially funny where …some sort of military authority can’t believe he’s about to ask this 13-yr-old kid for help in his investigation. But really, if you’ve bought into Reacher, you’re comfortable with the suspension of disbelief, so you should be fine. It made me sigh with satisfaction. It’s like a Reacher novel in miniature.

And the format? Well, I don’t have any strong or specific complaint. It worked fine, although I had to tilt it just right to avoid glare at one point. The pages turned. I played with changing up the font size. I’m not against it. The strongest argument I know in favor, is for travel: not having to lug a largish number of books around, but having them all in that slim little package. My mother has some 40? books open on her machine right now, just because they’re there, but I don’t see this as a selling point; I’ve been known to read 2, 3, even 4 books at once, but more than that is just silly. I see that as actually detracting from the reading experience, because I’d be so confused, so start-and-stop. I’d rather be immersed in a book. I know the point is not to have 40 books going at once, of course, and if I were traveling it would be nice to carry less. But so far in my life this is not a great need for me.

I’m not angry at the e-book. But I’m not enamored; I love real books (battered old paperbacks, preferably) too much, and don’t feel a need for what I see as the greatest reason for e-books, that carrying of less. But it was an interesting experience to get to try one out with a quick read like this. Thanks Mom. If you read The Second Son, please do share your thoughts.

And the rest of you (Mom included) – would you care to share your e-reader-vs-print thoughts?

the Hemingway House

All right! You want the details.

The Hemingway House at 907 Whitehead in Key West was Papa’s residence from 1931 until 1940ish. He bought the house with his second wife, Pauline, and left her to live in Cuba (in sort of a gradual manner, which is why I say 1940ish). Pauline would live in the house til her death in 1951, and Ernest would continue to use it, on his odd visit to the island, from that point until his death in 1961. It’s now a museum, with the Hemingways’ original furniture and books largely intact, we’re told. One of its more famous features is the population of polydactyl (six-toed) cats that still roams the grounds freely; they have forty-something today. Papa had one original cat, Snowball, who eventually populated the place pretty thoroughly. (Our B&B, the Wicker Guesthouse, also had a few polydactyl cats gracing its grounds, just a block from the Hemingway House. One assumes they’ve taken the island over for their own, to some extent.)

Our photo tour begins with a cat. Husband was rather good at making friends with them.

That’s Husband’s hand there.

Most special to me, of course, was the connection to Ernest Hemingway’s life and writing. This is his writing studio, in a separate building, up a flight of stairs: at this very typewriter (says our guide) Papa created much of his best work, including my personal favorite, For Whom the Bell Tolls.

Husband was careful to also record the urinal in Papa’s workshop.

More cats… did you hear me say FORTY-SOMETHING on the grounds? You could literally trip over them.

This is Husband’s lovely photo of the outside. Thank you, Husband! The House’s website has a number of pictures of the exterior from different years, which are nice to see as a series; I know from these pictures, for example, that it was not so lushly vegetated when Papa bought the place. (The other side, not pictured here, is a veritable jungle.) I have to keep going back to study all these exterior shots to try and convince myself that he was really here, right here where I am now… what a special thing to experience. On the morning we left Key West, I went back to stand and study the house and try to feel his presence.

But! Our trip didn’t end with touring the grounds. I’m always looking to have more Hemingway books – by, and about. I had saved up a little list of the holes in my collection, so that I could try and do some buying at the Hemingway House’s bookstore. I didn’t find everything I was looking for – their biographies, for example, were just the most well-known ones (Baker, Meyers, Lynn, Reynolds) who I already own. (I’m searching for some that were cited in Hemingway’s Boat, including Samuelson, V. Hemingway, P. Hemingway, Hotchner…) But I did fill a few holes:

That is, I bought four books by EH himself: Men Without Women, The Nick Adams Stories (a posthumous collection), To Have and Have Not, and The Fifth Column and Four Stories of the Spanish Civil War. (The Fifth Column was his one and only play, and I’ve never read it!) I also got Bernice Kert’s The Hemingway Women, which I’ve read references to for years. All in all, a good haul!

I had a very special time visiting a place where Papa himself lived and walked and worked. This was my first, but hopefully not my last trip: I want to see the family home in Oak Park, IL, and also the finca in Havana if they ever let us go.

As an aside, here’s another literary connection: at the start of Tripwire by Lee Child, my other hero Jack Reacher (who actually has a bit in common with Hemingway, at least as he wanted us to see him… hmmm) is making his living by digging swimming pools – by hand – in Key West. Husband also being familiar with this fact, our running joke was to ask each other every time we saw a pool (and there are a lot of them!) whether Reacher had dug that one? Good fun. 🙂

What about you? Have you made any literary pilgrimages? Do you have any in mind?

Gone with the Wind part 3 (ch. 17-30)

Follow the Great Gone with the Wind Readalong at The Heroine’s Bookshelf. Today we discuss part 3.

I’m quite late on this one, as noted before vacation – I hadn’t actually read this part before we set out, so it’s posting after my return. Ho-hum. I should be on track for the last two readings: part 4 on Sept. 26, and part 5 on Oct. 17. For now, you can go check out the discussion of part 3 at the Heroine’s Bookshelf, here. As as aside, Erin at HB is doing a fabulous job of leading these discussions! Not only does she summarize chapters, but she also gives us links for further reading on any number of historical facets of this amazing book.

So. I’m still just devouring GWTW; it’s an epic with momentum, emotional impact, and plenty to think about. It’s entertaining, heart-wrenching, and instructive.

These fourteen chapters are fast-paced and stomach-churning. Scarlett is living in Atlanta as the Civil War really ramps up; casualties increase, and the fervently loyal Southerners begin to face the fact that they can’t win this war. Social niceties that Scarlett (and Melly, and Pitty, and everyone) thought could be relied upon fall apart. Scarlett ends up undertaking some incredible challenges, simply out of necessity: she safely delivers Melanie’s (and Ashley’s) baby, and then grits her teeth and grinds her way home through dangerous, contested territory towards Tara. She enlists Rhett Butler’s help in doing this, but he abandons her – near Tara, but not close enough for safety.

When she gets home, she learns that her beloved mother has died, her two sisters are ill and no more tolerable to her than ever, her father Gerald is no longer a rock but rendered a pathetic simpleton by his wife’s death. Everything falls on Scarlett’s shoulders and, again, necessity births greater strength and skill than she would have thought possible.

I never liked Scarlett, in the sense that I would have wanted to be her best friend; but I always respected her, greatly in fact. Conniving, manipulative, and nasty? Yes. But determined? Oh, yes. And now I respect her more than ever; she’s really pulled it together. She’s my kind of woman, in a way: she doesn’t waste too much time whining, not when it really comes down to it. She rolls up her sleeves, picks her own cotton, earns blisters and calluses and loses weight and saves the farm, when her sisters are ready to roll over and die rather than stand up straight. I respect her immensely.

But I’m also concerned for the vision that Scarlett, and everyone around her, has of some reborn Southland. It’s just not going to happen. (Says I, with the benefit of lots of hindsight!) It’s never going to be the same again. And then Ashley comes home… finally… and Scarlett is still wasting her time pining over him. Just like the reincarnated South she dreams of, her perfect life with Ashley is impossible. I’m frustrated at her slowing down her own progress by mooning over impossibilities.

In response to some of Erin’s discussion points:

The descriptions of war are grotesque and well-done; I can really see and feel and smell the horrors. But I guess I failed to be entirely shocked, if only because this is the reputation of the Civil War in our time. Perhaps Mitchell’s contemporary audience was less clear on this point? I think we all learned in school at least about the idea of the Civil War as awful. But she certainly evokes it viscerally here.

Prissy is a deplorable character – as is Mammy, I must add. I have little patience with the way these slaves are depicted. It’s so obviously stereotyping, using set parts, simplifying these black slave who were – hello!! – real people, like every other population on earth made up of smart, dumb, hard-working, lazy, creative, dull, kind and evil people. My greatest difficulty with this book so far is in the portrayals of the slaves. Does Prissy drive me crazy? Yes. And there’s every chance that somewhere, one specific slave girl had all these characteristics that Prissy does; but it’s just too easy to paint them all with the same brush, and that I do not buy. Mammy’s relief and pride at still belonging to a good family is disgusting, coming from Mitchell’s pen. Pork’s pridefulness on being a “house n*gger” is offensive, to my modern eyes.

Rhett Butler… oh, my. I was at least as disappointed as Scarlett when he proposed, not marriage, but prostitution! (And I wonder if she would really have turned him down, as she planned to, if it had in fact been the former?) I think he’s rather wonderful, and I also think that he and Scarlett are two peas in a pod; she’s self-delusive if she doesn’t see how alike they are. It’s funny, because what she hates in him is what carries her through her own life, too.

The momentum of this section of the book is amazing. I couldn’t put it down. Can’t wait to discuss part 4 with everyone! But some of the portrayals of the south, and of the slaves, are getting a little uncomfortable. What’s next?

quick trip report: Key West, FL

Hello friends! I’m back! Did you miss me?

Husband and I DID, in fact, make it to Florida! Here’s a quick report…

Last Friday night we flew into Miami, got a hotel room and a rental car and a beer, and went to bed. Saturday morning we got up lateish and began the drive down through the Keys. It was a lovely drive, as promised, with water on both sides of the narrow highway for a few hours. We took our time on the drive down, stopping for lunch – fried conch, an outstanding Ahi burger, and some rum – and made it into Key West around 5pm. We got a room, had a few drinks, and walked around Duvall St. before turning in.

Sunday we really began our sightseeing, with my top priority: the Hemingway House. It was very special. I am still trying to wrap my head around the idea that he lived right there. I’ll give you the full Hem House report shortly. [EDIT: Here‘s my report.] Then we rented bikes and rode out to the area where the fishing charters depart, so we could shop for a fishing trip for Husband. Finally, we found some solid pizza by the slice and took yet another dip in the pool at our B&B.

Monday was a lazy day in and out of the pool, the bed, and various books… we rode our bikes around some more and fished off a pier on the east (Atlantic) side of the island. Then we had an early night so we could wake up early on Tuesday to go fishing!

We went out in a little boat with Captain Mike and Husband fished for baby tarpon, bonefish, permit, and maybe something else?? This is not my area but I went along for the boat ride. We saw maybe 5-7 sharks and a whole mess of sting rays, which was cool. This was “flats” fishing, on the Gulf side of the island, with a lot of poleing the boat over very shallow flats, so we could see very clearly what was swimming around under us. Husband didn’t have any luck but he thoroughly enjoyed himself all the same, and has expressed greater interest since we’ve gotten back home, in getting out there more. There’s talk of renting us seats on a local fishing boat in the coming months. And when I got up this morning he was casting in the back yard!

Tuesday night we spent more time exploring the island, catching up on the last of the recommended beer bars, getting our fill. Wednesday morning we had the time to wake up in a leisurely fashion, get Husband a new fishing hat (the other one disintegrating) from a local angler’s shop (so it’s a functional souvenir, good work Husband), and make the drive back up to Miami for an evening flight home. It was a fairly quick trip but we got everything out of it we wanted to (except a tarpon – maybe next time) and made it home with free time to spare.

Nephew Tanner kept all three little dogs alive and didn’t burn the house down, so things were a success all around!

Thursday morning involved some unexpected travel: we drove out west of Houston to Columbus, TX, one of the areas that was hit hard by wildfires in our absence. My family owns property out there and we had to assess the damage. In a nutshell, we were lucky: the hard work of the local fire crews saved our house, literally stopping the fire at the doorstep (as they did for countless of our neighbors). We lost our barn and tractor, and 30 acres of woodlands are spotty, some places nearly destroyed by fire (biggest trees standing but scorched, little else, carpeted in ash) and some places almost untouched. Overall we were most definitely lucky. Columbus lost 11 homes. Nearby Bastrop has lost some 1400 homes; this is almost unthinkable, in terms of all those families who have only what they could carry. We did take some clothes, toiletries, food and books up there with us to donate to the effort.

And now I’m just settling back in. I have several books and audiobooks to write for you. They might be brief reviews; I didn’t take any kind of notes, sadly. It feels good to be home. Here’s hoping you’re enjoying your reading, maybe even a break of some sort, and hoping your families are safe and fire-free…