Well, it’s Uncle Jay. Or father Jay. (No mention of the mother’s name as of yet). But the letter and rhyming name and start of the song/letter is just a little too similar to be a coincidence.
I have that happen too often. I recognized that author’s name, so I looked her up on goodreads. My review of the only book of hers I read was:
I finished The Seventh Bride by T. Kingfisher aka Ursula Vernon today. It was a light weight horror retelling of the Blackbeard legend. A bit too graphic for kids but not gory, though Ingeth’s description made my stomach flop over.So I’ll call it upper teen and sensitive stomach adult fiction. (Not a fan of gore or gross out I prefer suspense and tension.)
Make that the Bluebeard leagend… not being able to grow a beard, I mixed beards up. 
Finished The Big Book of Christmas Mysteries, edited by Otto Penzler. Didn’t read them all, but enjoyed several. My favorite was “The Christmas Bogey” by Pat Frank. Also liked “The Price of Light” by Ellis Peters, which was a Brother Cadfael story.
Following tradition, I read J. Patrick Lewis’ Long Was the Winter Road They Traveled, a picture book retelling of the Nativity, on Christmas Day.
Started The Spinster Sisters by Stacey Ballis.
Last night I started The Girl Who Takes An Eye for An Eye, which continues Stieg Larsson’s millennium series. Very good. So good that I brought it to work so I can read during lunch. I actually like the books written by Lagercrantz better than the Larsson books.
I’m reading I’m Just No Good at Rhyming: and other nonsense for mischievous kids and immature grownups. It’s about all I’ve got time or mental faculties to deal with this week. It’s not blowing me away, but it’s decent. I can see it being a really good time if I had the right kid to read it to.
Just zipped through Mail-Order Mysteries by Kirk Demarais, about all the cheapo stuff you used to be able to order for a buck or two from the back of comic books. Through the modern magic of eBay and Amazon, the author assembles a collection of stuff he meant to buy as a kid but couldn’t afford (or his parents wouldn’t let him, objecting that “It’s a rip-off!”), and then writes about it. Demarais proves his parents right but has fun as he does so: X-ray goggles, play sets, toys, costumes, masks, magic tricks, etc. I even recognized some toy soldiers that I bought when I was ten or so! A nice trip down Memory Lane.
Ialways wanted the X ray glasses!
Having read the book, I’ll let you in on a little secret: they don’t work.
Yeah, I guessed as much, particularly after I learned the bright light behind your hand trick.
Almost halfway through Leviathan Wakes by James Corey, the first of the seven-book The Expanse series. Basically hard scifi conspiracy-and-intrigue type deal. I watched the first season of the TV show, which interested me into picking up the book.
Finished The Spinster Sisters, by Stacey Ballis. Started Katie Slivensky’s The Countdown Conspiracy, which reads a lot like a Heinlein juvenile.
Most of my friends got the new book by Walter Isaacson, Leonardo da Vinci, from me for Christmas. I gifted it to myself, too, and am really enjoying it.
I just finished Education in Violence by Francis F. McKinney, a 1961 biography of one of my Civil War heroes, Maj. Gen. George H. Thomas. Thomas, a Virginian, remained loyal to the Union and was ostracized by most of his family for the rest of his life because of it. He wasn’t flashy or a glory hound, but a careful, methodical officer who always prepared well, mastered logistics, valued the lives of his men and never lost a battle. Stolid and always calm, he wouldn’t be much of a dinner guest, but McKinney shows why he remains such an important - if too often unappreciated - figure in American military history.
I’m about three-quarters done with Mario Puzo’s original The Godfather. Sometimes I wince at Puzo’s bad or overdone writing, but he tells a helluva good Mafia story.
Next up: David McCullough’s new collection of history-related speeches, The American Spirit.
Finished Katie Slivensky’s The Countdown Conspiracy. Reads a lot like a Heinlein juvenile, and I mean that in a good way.