BOOK REVIEWS. Sort Of.

A note about BOOK REVIEWS. Sort Of.:

These are not, in any way, meant to be comprehensive reviews. They are intended to acknowledge that I have read the book, and give my honest core impressions.

If a real review is what you wish, there are many wonderful book blogs available, and I have provided some tools to find them under the tab marked "Useful Stuff."

~ AUDIOBOOKS ~

The American Gun Mystery - (audiobook) - Ellery Queen

Ellery is a bit out of his comfort zone with the wild west show, but it doesn't impair his keen sense of observation.

I on the other hand, missed this one entirely.

~ SHORT STORIES ~

Angle of Investigation (ebook) - Michael Connelly

This is a collection of three Harry Bosch short stories that take place at three different times in his long career. They're not as compelling as the full length Bosch offerings, but they will do fine to tide me over until the next novel arrives.

Switchblade (ebook) - Michael Connelly

This is one short story. It wasn't bad, but compared to Connelly's intricate Harry Bosch novels, it reads more like a story proposal than a fully fleshed out story.

I think that the writing of novels and short stories are two different skills, and no amount of skill in one guarantees skill in the other.

Windy City Blues (ebook) - Sara Paretsky

This is an interesting and well written assortment of short stories, scattered pieces of V.I. Warshawski's timeline, that add to both the back story and mystique of reoccuring characters in the series.

~ EBOOKS ~

Bitter Medicine (ebook) - Sara Paretsky

Another lesson on how greed perverts the systems meant to help us, how it's mostly legal, and how the poor and powerless suffer the most.

On the bright side, V.I. gets the pleasure of irritating her ex.

The First Rule (ebook) - Robert Crais

I like both the Elvis Cole and Joe Pike novels. They both contain the same base cast, but the focus changes.

The writing is consistent and the plots work well.

Hard as he seems, Joe is a sucker for the underdog, when someone is truly in need of help.

Blacklist - Sara Paretsky

"Let me tell you, I saw plenty of that in Europe in 'fourty-four, never thought I watch it in my own country. I risked my life on the beaches at Anzio, I know what real fire feels like comming at you out of real artillary, I saw my buddies cut up in pieces around me. If I'd known I was doing that so you could break into any house in america because you felt like it, they couldn't a got me on that landing boat"

"In these times, any whiff of wrong doing by a prominent progressive would only give the right wing radicals more cause for triumphalism. I couldn't bear to contribute to their jubilant trampling on human rights. I couldn't pursue this investigation further."

This novel positions the McCarthy era against today's 9/11 erosion of rights and governmental overreach in a way that does not preach, but evokes the sadness, loss, and tragedy engendered by fear run rampant.

It is by far my favorite of the series yet, and the saddest.

Serpent's Tooth (ebook) - Faye Kellerman

Ms Kellerman's stories occupy a position between the cozy and the hard hitting, with a generous mix of family and mystery.

As Decker ages his concerns have changed, the least of which is a daughter who wants to join the force.

The Beige Man (ebook) - Helene Tursten

The wait for a new translation can be a long one, and unlike with new publications, is not always predictable. Like the rest of Ms Tursten's novels,  this one was worth the wait.

Do we ever really know the people in our lives?

Total Recall (ebook) - Sara Paretsky

"When not only your family, but your house, maybe even your entire town, has been obliterated - you have no records to turn to. And if you did, the company would treat you the way they did Carl: by denying the claim because you couldn't produce a death certificate. They really were a prize group of bastards, those bankers and insurers."

Still are.

Again, V.I. is drawn into the past, and learns more of the devastation suffered by those closest to her.

Ulysses

- Alfred, Lord Tennyson

 

It little profits that an idle king,

By this still hearth, among these barren crags,

Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole

Unequal laws unto a savage race,

That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.

I cannot rest from travel: I will drink

Life to the lees: All times I have enjoy'd

Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those

That loved me, and alone, on shore, and when

Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Hyades

Vext the dim sea: I am become a name;

For always roaming with a hungry heart

Much have I seen and known; cities of men

And manners, climates, councils, governments,

Myself not least, but honour'd of them all;

And drunk delight of battle with my peers,

Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.

I am a part of all that I have met;

Yet all experience is an arch wherethro'

Gleams that untravell'd world whose margin fades

For ever and forever when I move.

How dull it is to pause, to make an end,

To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use!

As tho' to breathe were life! Life piled on life

Were all too little, and of one to me

Little remains: but every hour is saved

From that eternal silence, something more,

A bringer of new things; and vile it were

For some three suns to store and hoard myself,

And this gray spirit yearning in desire

To follow knowledge like a sinking star,

Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.

         This is my son, mine own Telemachus,

To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle,—

Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil

This labour, by slow prudence to make mild

A rugged people, and thro' soft degrees

Subdue them to the useful and the good.

Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere

Of common duties, decent not to fail

In offices of tenderness, and pay

Meet adoration to my household gods,

When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.

         There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:

There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners,

Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me—

That ever with a frolic welcome took

The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed

Free hearts, free foreheads—you and I are old;

Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;

Death closes all: but something ere the end,

Some work of noble note, may yet be done,

Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.

The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:

The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep

Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,

'T is not too late to seek a newer world.

Push off, and sitting well in order smite

The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds

To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths

Of all the western stars, until I die.

It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:

It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,

And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.

Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'

We are not now that strength which in old days

Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;

One equal temper of heroic hearts,

Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

 

Quote of the Day

Have you ever read Victoria Magazine? It's the only magazine subscription I have and I look forward to each new issue. Any way, while reading the latest issue I came across these words. I'm not sure why they struck me, but they did. 

"I feel sorry for mockingbirds," she said.
"They are doomed to sing every other bird's song but their own."

(Photo Source)

Kilt Monday!

'Cause let's face it,

Mondays can be so rough, hard, difficult.

Spring

- Edna St. Vincent Millay

To what purpose, April, do you return again?
Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily.
I know what I know.
The sun is hot on my neck as I observe
The spikes of the crocus.
The smell of the earth is good.
It is apparent that there is no death.
But what does that signify?
Not only under ground are the brains of men
Eaten by maggots.
Life in itself
Is nothing,
An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
April
Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.

It's A Garden Party - Herbs, Anyone?

This feature, originally known as Saturday Farmer's Market, was created by Heather at Capricious Reader, and then hosted by Chris at Stuff as Dreams are Made on.

I've moved my herbs into a contained area. Instead of being spread all over the garden, they now line the walk from the front door to both the sidewalk and the driveway in an aromatic "L" shape.

It's more organized & easier to use. The bed still needs to be mulched, but they all took the move well, and by mid-summer they will make a wonderfully scented hedge.

I keep looking for interesting herbs to add to the garden, but variety is not the hallmark of nurseries these days. And some of those I'd like, even though a keystroke away online, aren't practical either for their climate needs or size.

What is Paradise?

But a Garden, an Orchard of Trees and Herbs, full of pleasure,

and nothing there but delights.

- William Lawson

Rosemary

Sage

Lemon Balm

Thyme

Oregano

Chives

Feverfew

Lemon Verbena

Basil

Curry

Lemon Grass

Mexican Oregano

The Nine Herbs Charm
                   (An Olde English Poem In Modern English)

Remember, Mugwort, what you made known,
What you arranged at the Great proclamation.
You were called Una, the oldest of herbs,
you have power against three and against thirty,
you have power against poison and against infection,
you have power against the loathsome foe roving through the land.

And you, Plantain, mother of herbs,
Open from the east, mighty inside.
over you chariots creaked, over you queens rode,
over you brides cried out, over you bulls snorted.
You withstood all of them, you dashed against them.
May you likewise withstand poison and infection
and the loathsome foe roving through the land.

'Stune' is the name of this herb, it grew on a stone,
it stands up against poison, it dashes against poison
Nettle (?) it is called, it attacks against poison,
it drives out the hostile one, it casts out poison.
This is the herb that fought against the serpent,
it has power against poison,  it has power against infection,
it has power against the loathsome foe roving through the land.
Put to flight now, Venom-loather, the greater poisons,
though you are the lesser, until he is cured of both.

Remember, Chamomile, what you made known,
what you accomplished at Alorford,
that never a man should lose his life from infection
after Chamomile was prepared for his food.

This is the herb that is called 'Wergulu'.
A seal sent it across the sea-right,
a vexation to poison, a help to others.
it stands against pain, it dashes against poison,

A worm came crawling, it killed nothing.
For Woden took nine glory-twigs,
he smote the the adder that it flew apart into nine parts.
There the Apple accomplished it against poison
that she [the loathsome serpent] would never dwell in the house.

Chervil and Fennell, two of much might,
They were created by the wise Lord,
holy in heaven as He hung;
He set and sent them to the seven worlds,
to the wretched and the fortunate, as a help to all.
It stands against pain, it fights against poison,
it avails against 3 and against 30,
against foe´s hand and against noble scheming,
against enchantment of vile creatures.

Now there nine herbs have power against nine evil spirits,
against nine poisons and against nine infections:
Against the red poison, against the foul poison,
against the white poison, against the pale blue poison,
against the yellow poison, against the green poison,
against the black poison, against the blue poison,
against the brown poison, against the crimson poison,
against worm-blister, against water-blister,
against thorn-blister, against thistle-blister,
against ice-blister, against poison-blister,

If any poison comes flying from the east,
or any from the north, [or any from the south,]
or any from the west among the people.
Christ stood over diseases of every kind.

I alone know a running stream,
and the nine adders beware of it.
May all the weeds spring up from their roots,
the seas slip apart, all salt water,
when I blow this poison from you.

Mugwort, plantain open form the east, lamb's cress, venom-loather, camomile, nettle, crab-apple, chevil and fennel, old soap; pound the herbs to a powder, mix them with the soap and the juice oaf the apple.

Then prepare a paste of water and of ashes, take fennel, boil it with the paste and wash it with a beaten egg when you apply the salve, both before and after.

Sing this charm three times on each of the herbs before you (he) prepare them, and likewise on the apple. And sing the same charm into the mouth of the man and into both his ears, and on the wound, before you (he) apply the salve.

No Reason . . .

Sorry for Being MIA the Past Few Days . . .

But I had a fall the other day

 and have been hard pressed to keep up with all my responsibilities since then.

Right now I'm playing catch up at half speed and feeling overwhelmed.

It's not real serious - that is, no permanent damage was done (I hope). But I have a sprained wrist, badly bruised knee, and feel generally like I was hit by a truck (which then reversed back over me).

I think my pride received the worst injury, but my sense of independence has been shaken thoroughly also, leaving a permanent feeling of impending disaster.

Thank you for being patient; I will recover and I hope to be back on top soon.