Killing Floor by Lee Child (audio)

My love affair with Jack Reacher is going strong; or perhaps it should be just starting here? This is the very first Reacher novel published. (While Child did later publish prequels, he recommends they be read in publication order rather than chronological order. Read all about it.) So, in this book, the Reacher I’ve come to know is just six months out of the army. He’s a former MP – military policeman – just roaming, trying to figure out what he’s doing with himself. He was raised in the army, living just a few months at a time at barracks around the world. When it was time, he went to West Point, and found spending four years in one place bizarre. Then he graduated, entered the army himself, and has lived the rest of his life a few months at a time at barracks around the world, too. So roaming comes naturally. (This is the first time I can remember finding Reacher to be a music fan. The song “Rambling on My Mind” recurs.)

Reacher roams into small-town Margraves, Georgia, and is arrested immediately on a murder charge. He’s calm; he knows he’ll be cleared, since he didn’t do it. But when he finds out who the murder victim was… he’s involved, and has to stick around. The victims start stacking up, and he meets a pretty girl who’s also a local cop, and Reacher is pulled into a big mess. The team of killers is stalking him, and he’s not afraid to do battle, especially considering who they started with.

I’ve written about Reacher quite a bit. He continues to be big and burly and frankly, sexy, and tough and uber-capable and clever. The plot line is actually pretty predictable: Reacher will kill people. He’ll get away with it. He’ll probably get laid, although the sex is not graphic. (The violence is.) He’ll amaze you and make you gasp. Like a sighing reader of romance novels (who reads not to find out if they’ll hook up, but just to be there when they do), I’m not here to find out how he’ll win – I know he will. The suspense is in who the bad guy is and how it all comes out. I feel a little bit wrenched every time he walks away from the town, the situation, the girl, and the new quasi-friends he’s made. But he’ll keep on walking away.

But this is the FIRST time he’s done it! I was thrilled to meet him near the beginning of his lack of career, his aimless wandering, and see his plans formed. This is the first time I’ve seen him consider hanging around – because it’s his first retired adventure. Later in the series he’ll learn not to consider it. We also get to meet his brother (well, sort of) which gives me a differently-angled view into his background. I look forward to reading the prequels, too, for the same reason.

Come meet Reacher at the beginning, y’all. This is a classic of Reacherdom and I love it.

Pops’s visit to Powell’s Books in Portland

Just wanted to share a few photos from my father’s trip to the famous Powell’s Books in Portland, Oregon.

A quotation he thought we’d like, on one of their blackboards (I especially appreciate that the book’s location is noted!)

LOVE these bike racks with related book titles. (click to enlarge and read ’em all)

“our room at the trendy Ace Hotel – old encyclopedia pages wallpapered to plaster walls!” (is this especially for Powell’s customers?)


And, well, this one is not so directly connected, but: you may recall that Pops and I both read and both raved about Fire Season, by Philip Connors. (My review… and his) So he snapped this fire lookout station for me “at the top of a volcanic butte south of Bend, with a view of the Cascade snow-caps as far north as Mt. Hood, and east into the Oregon desert.” Very nice, Pops.

On a related note: Pops has also been getting into Edward Abbey this summer. I’m not sure if I had a role in that or not; I did strongly (forcibly?) recommend Fire Season to him and cite Edward Abbey as a related recommendation. He may have gotten there on his own, but at any rate the two authors (Connors & Abbey) have a clear link. He actually approached Powell’s with an Edward Abbey need, and reported that, while he’s aware that Abbey is a somewhat obscure choice, they had a full shelf of it and were very happy to talk and help. He points out that this is unsurprising, for Portland and for Powell’s – should be a specialty of theirs – but no less gratifying. He bought three books, including one of Abbey’s novels. I’m not sure I even knew he wrote fiction!


So, I have only read his Desert Solitaire, which I believe is his best-known. It is the nonfiction account of his solitary experience as a park ranger at Arches National Park near Moab, Utah. I read it many years ago, and I retain more of an impression than a distinct memory; what I do recall is that I found it very moving. I recently picked up another of his, The Journey Home, although I haven’t cracked it open yet.

And now Pops has three new books, including a novel. He mentioned that the novel is about a fire lookout, so I think that makes it Black Sun. I’m hoping that he’ll report back to us here on his continued reading, and maybe even loan me a book or two! Hm, Pops?

Teaser Tuesdays: County: Life, Death and Politics at Chicago’s Public Hospital by David A. Ansell

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!

From page 127,

The high-pitched beeping of my pager pierced the still of the early morning air. My heart-rate increased in a Pavlovian response that harkened back to my days as a resident when the beeping often presaged a patient in trouble.

I am not quite through and thus not writing my review yet, but I can say for now: OMG. This book is powerful and outstanding, and rivaling Fire Season for my Best of 2011 honors. This is not just the story of our nation’s health care system and all its woes, nor a story of racism, poverty, politics and injustice – although it is these things, it is first Dr. Ansell’s personal story, and I find it powerful. Stay tuned.

Gone with the Wind part 2 (ch. 8-16)

Follow the Great Gone with the Wind Readalong at The Heroine’s Bookshelf. Today we discuss part 2.

I continue to be very impressed. Mitchell is positively painterly in her descriptions of people and places. I love the people, and the clothing, the best. I’m not usually all that interested in clothes but the finery of Atlanta’s Civil War era society scene is awfully colorful, elaborate, and foreign to me. This second part of the book has closed in a little bit, I feel, to relatively few characters: Scarlett, Melanie, Miss Pittypat, and Rhett Butler being the features. Scarlett continues to be a character who is not likeable, exactly (I wouldn’t want to be her friend; not that she’d want to be mine!), but is fascinating and I have to say sympathetic – in the sense that I sympathize with her frustrations, even her desire for simplicity, joy, pleasure, attention. She’s human; I understand her. Melanie is less human because she’s so innocent and trusting; it almost stretches one’s credulity, although I guess Southern ladies were trained to be just that, so maybe it’s historically accurate. Miss Pittypat is definitely a caricature, but a well-formed one.

Captain Rhett Butler I find intriguing. I never did understand Scarlett’s passion for Ashley; he seems to be a pretty face and a romantic ideal, and little else. Pardon me for parroting Gerald, but they’re certainly not suited for one another. Rhett, though, should be just up Scarlett’s alley. He’s got spunk and attitude, not to mention he’s also handsome (several mentions of how BIG he is, too) and has plenty of money. Maybe they’re too much alike, with too much irreverence. Certainly he’s not ready to pay her the kind of attention, flattery, compliments, and silliness that she wants. But I find the prospect of Rhett for Scarlett to be much more exciting than the prospect of Ashley.

We’ve moved a little bit away from the slave characters, too, although we did get a brief sketch of “Uncle” Peter and his control over the household. My memory of Mammy dims, but I’m still bothered by a feeling that she (and many of the slaves depicted as loyal and content in their lot) are painted with a political perspective we no longer find appropriate.

Gone with the Wind continues to be a feat: of beautiful, evocative, fine writing and literary descriptions; of character sketches; of historical fiction with all the details; and of suspenseful drama that keeps me turning the pages. I have lots of other reading to do, so I’m putting this one down til the next readalong date (we discuss part 3 on Sept. 5), but with great difficulty! I am grateful that this readalong finally got me reading this classic. Its fine reputation is deserving.

As usual, don’t forget to stop by The Heroine’s Bookshelf for discussion of part 2, and please do join us if you can!

two-wheeled thoughts: Ariel

two-wheeled thoughts

when springtime’s buds are flowering through the land;
while summer’s bloom is strewn on every hand;
and through autumn blows
or the chilly wintry snows,
she drives her airy wheel so free and grand.
–Ariel, The Bicycling World, February 16, 1894, as quoted in Around the World on Two Wheels

where I give myself away as something other than a reader

Don’t panic. I’m a reader, too.

I found a blog post recently that has inspired me to share.

Some of you may have noticed that I have a great passion for bicycles. I have other passions, too, including high-quality, independent, craft beer, and little dogs. (Check out my personal website here.) I have a friend (Hi, Will!) who once said the man who convinced me to settle down was going to have three things in common with me: beer, bikes, and dogs. He didn’t say books.

Husband in support role. literally


I’ve always been a reader. For as long as I can remember, I read more books than the average bear; read at the table; read in bed at night; read all summer; read between classes waiting for the bell to ring. Read in the car on road trips. I like to discuss books. This is why I very nearly headed off for a post-grad degree in English before switching tracks to study library science; this is why I took some post-baccalaureate English just for fun. This is why I joined a book club; this is also why I quit the book club very shortly after joining, because it wasn’t enough like grad school for my tastes. (My bad.) This is why I have this blog. But perhaps my choice of a reading blog, rather than a book club, is revealing. I feel that reading is a very personal activity or passion. I can talk about the books I read with other people – I like to – but the reading of it is an individual pursuit.

Husband was never going to make it without a love for beer, bikes, and dogs, all of which of course he has in spades. The cycling, especially: during race season (at least 7 months a year) we travel 2-3 weekends out of the month, and I get up before 6am, 7 days a week, for 4 months straight every spring. We drive thousands of miles; we take cycling vacations; we spend our weeknights and weekends on the bike year-round. It is a physical fact that if we did not share this hobby, we would not be together. He shares it. It’s all good.

Husband & I in Terlingua


But reading? He doesn’t share this interest. He barely reads at all. Maybe magazine articles. (We scour Bike magazine’s annual Trails Issue for vacation ideas. Like, that’s how we decided to go to Vermont.) That’s okay; he doesn’t bother me when I read. He watches more television than I do – and is responsible for my recently acquired ability to tune out the television (um, mostly) while I read. But generally he’s a doer, not a sitter. And how great is that? This is a man who, given the day off or to “work from home,” will bake a batch of bread, build a deck in the backyard, change his oil, and sew on a button before he makes dinner. I am not complaining.

We don’t share reading as a passion, but he’s tolerant when I want to tell him about a book I’m reading. And he has actually come around to books, when they’re audio: when he flies on an airplane, he gets me to bring him a few audiobooks for the flight. He’s discovered he likes Michael Connelly and Lee Child (see, we’re like bookends). And we made this discovery in the best possible way: on a long road trip, together, to some of the best mountain bike trails in the driveable world. We listened to audiobooks, together, and shared the suspense, the surprises, and the enjoyment. Together. I guess this is the most important part, to me: that when it does come time for “reading” (eh, listening) to be a shared activity, we share the same tastes. That’s kind of the common factor here: having tastes in common. We like to eat the same foods, drink the same drinks, listen to the same music, go to the same places on vacation, ride the same trails. That’s how we get to spend time together, see?

So while I need for the Husband to share several of the passions that are most important to me, I don’t need him to share the books. Only one of us can read the same book at the same time, anyway! (I mean, physically, the same copy of…) But the little dogs are not negotiable.

Husband's caption for this is, "I'll be right here..."


I love you, darlin.

book beginnings on Friday: In Cold Blood by Truman Capote (audio)

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.

Ooh, I’m very excited about this one. For some reason, I’ve been hearing a lot lately about this (not new) book and am anxious to get started. We begin:

The village of Holcomb stands on the high wheat plains of western Kansas, a lonesome area that other Kansans call “out there.” Some seventy miles east of the Colorado border, the countryside, with its hard blue skies and desert-clear air, has an atmosphere that is rather more Far West than Middle West.

Okay, well, it’s not a GASPworthy start, but I still feel the pull. For one thing, the idea of “hard” blue skies and “desert-clear” air, and a Far West atmosphere, feels both familiar and alluring to me. I’m all in.

What are you reading?

miscellany: literary links

A few fun items for you today!

  • The Best 100 Opening Lines From Books
  • followed intuitively by The Best 100 Closing Lines From Books
    (I am proud of Papa Hemingway for making several appearances!)
    Do you think they chose well? I took issue with only one of the closing lines – the one about diarrhea didn’t strike me as especially profound or clever. It sounded like a middle or filler line to me.
  • and, 10 Real-Life Places That Inspired Literary Classics. This really got me excited, mostly about the farmhouse that supposedly inspired Wuthering Heights. I would love to see that! We have just nixed the idea of the UK as a travel option (vacation fast approaching here) in favor of another literary destination, the Florida Keys, for the Hemingway House (along with lots of other features, including Husband-friendly ones).

the value of fiction

I want to share with you something that I wrote, oh, in 2007 or thereabouts. (I am resisting the urge to edit myself. It is a strong urge.) And then I think I will respond to myself. And hopefully you will share your thoughts, too.

My best friend is self-educated, and claims that he reads only non-fiction because he sees no value in studying fiction. He thinks that fiction’s purpose is entertainment, and he wants to learn new facts and better understandings of the world, and thus needs to read non-fiction. I like to counter with, for example, Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin. This book is fiction, but I think it’s pretty clear that its purpose is to teach and educate and hopefully to change minds about one of the most important issues of the last century.

One of my favorite books is Ernest Hemingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls. This book is fiction, but closely based on the author’s experiences. It served an important purpose: it taught readers that the Spanish Civil War, and by extension war in general, is not one-sided and has no “right” side to it; once violence has begun, innocents on both sides will suffer and everyone finishes with blood on their hands. (I hope Hemingway will forgive me for brutally simplifying this masterly work for my purposes here.)

Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle is another great example of fiction that performed important social functions. Although Sinclair’s concerns began by centering on social issues, food safety turned out to be an enormous beneficiary of his work, as public response was enormous. Historical perspective on this book in its time helps us to understand its significance; however, just reading the novel without context would give a person new respect for the purposes of fiction.

The question of whether Mark Twain’s The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn should be taught in high schools strikes me as a parallel to my friend’s complaint about fiction. It is clear to me that this work should be taught to high school students because, while it is fiction, it brings to light some extraordinarily important and very real questions. For example, Huck’s relationship with Jim and the development of their friendship addresses the humanity of slaves and the moral rectitude of this American institution. The racial slurs need to be read by high school students – with the right guidance – to teach beyond the idea that they are wrong, to why they are wrong.

Thus, the question of whether to teach Huck Finn is the same as the larger question, why read fiction? (For that matter, if it’s not worth reading, why write it?) I find the study of literature (fiction and otherwise) to be pleasurable as well as important, so I take it upon myself to argue on its behalf. My assertion is that just because a story is not true, does not mean it can’t hold massive significance on wildly important issues. For that matter, if fiction were truly and solely for entertainment as my brother asserts, one could argue that there is value in this purpose as well. Humans need entertainment to draw their minds off of the problems of our world; to blow off steam; to relax and/or exercise our minds. If fiction served no higher purpose than these, it would still be worthwhile to write, and read, and study, fiction. However, I find that fiction can serve the purposes of, for example, bringing a nation’s and a planet’s attention to dire social issues: the enslavement of blacks by whites; the wage slavery of many white and nonwhite immigrants to the United States; the corruption and lack of hygiene in a meatpacking industry; and the damage inflicted by massive violence on a people. I continue to bring my friend works of fiction to read.

Urges to edit this piece of writing aside, I stand by my original position. On the other hand, I’ve also written before about the perils of reading historical fiction for educational purposes. While my friend has not specifically used this argument (that I recall), I think it’s an important concern. If we read really convincing, accurate, moving, memorable historical fiction, I think we run the risk of taking it as fact. Even the most discerning and aware reader (even me!) could end up with blurred lines in her subconscious about what she learned in a nonfiction vs. a fiction book. Once I learn a “fact,” it can be hard to call up its source, especially years later. This is especially concerning for someone like my friend in question, who is a highly intelligent man and who likes to have serious debates. I think he feels the importance of being able to cite one’s sources.

So I acknowledge the dangers of confusing high-quality historical fiction with fact. And even more confusing are the books that are billed as nonfiction and get questioned years after the fact (ahem, James Frey and Greg Mortenson). How’s a person to keep it all straight? Don’t even get me started on the library patron who was SURE, and could not be convinced otherwise, that John Grisham only writes nonfiction books. Everything in The Firm happened, she says. I couldn’t talk her out of it. (This is why the front of the book says, “This is a work of fiction…”)

So I do respect some of the challenges. My position hasn’t changed; if anything, I feel more strongly than ever that fiction is important. Some of the fiction I see doing good work in my day-to-day job is not even what we might call Important Fiction – it’s a lot of Louis Lamour, Danielle Steel, Debbie Macomber, and James Patterson, in fact. I work in a cancer hospital where my little library provides leisure reading for people experiencing incredible difficulties, great pain, or great fear. If reading Nora Roberts/J.D. Robb improves their day, I rate the value of even this pop/genre/fluffy/call-it-what-you-will fiction very, very high. My favorite examples are still Huck Finn, The Jungle, and the like. (Also Slaughterhouse-Five…) But it goes beyond such Important Books. Fiction can be beneficial, enlightening, world-changing, and uplifting in so many ways. Also, it can be fun. What’s so bad about that?

I’m not the first to ask this question or to try to answer it; and I’m certainly not the most eloquent, articulate, thorough, or exhaustive. Have you seen any great examples of answers to the question, “what is the value of fiction?” Do you have a great answer? I would love to hear (read) it. Do you disagree? I would be interested to read your argument on either side.

On a related note, I’m still hoping to find time to tackle Mightier than the Sword: Uncle Tom’s Cabin and the Battle for America by David S. Reynolds. Maybe I’ll have something new to contribute soon!

10 books you should have read in high school: a fresh list

Recently several of you commented on 10 books you should have read in high school. They’re back. Here is an alternate list of 10 books, leaning towards more recent, “experimental” choices. Do you like these any better? Unsurprisingly, my readership level is much lower here: only 2 of 10, as opposed to 8 of 10 in the first round.

  • Infinite Jest, David Foster Wallace: No.
  • Maus, Art Spiegelman: No, but I’m interested.
  • Anna Karenina, Leo Tolstoy: Haven’t read. Interested, but also intimidated. Tolstoy intimidates me.
  • Swamplandia!, Karen Russell: No. But I did buy it for the library!
  • Reality Hunger, David Shields: huh?
  • The God of Small Things, Arundhati Roy: No, but it was recently discussed here… I took it off the shelf :-/
  • Against Interpretation, Susan Sontag: No, but I think I’m in favor all the same!
  • Ender’s Game, Orson Scott Card: I read this one! Just recently, for a reader’s advisory class. Very much enjoyed it, recommend it, and see an application for high schoolers. Think it would be well received, too.
  • The Moon is a Harsh Mistress, Robert Heinlein: No, but I did read Stranger in a Strange Land as self-education while I was in high school. That recommendation came from my parents and fit into the same period, for me, as 1984 (loved) and Brave New World (didn’t really work for me but maybe I should try again?).
  • Beloved, Toni Morrison: I read this for school. Must have been high school. Enjoyed and could recommend for this purpose.

Please share your thoughts? We all like a good list, yes? (Or a list we can argue the goodness of…)