Finished Pleasures of Nature: A Literary Anthology, edited by Christina Hardyment. Uneven, but I enjoyed quite a few of the selections, especially an amusing description of a hedgehog.
Now I’m reading Deadlands: Boneyard, by Seanan McGuire.
Finished Killing PRetty by Richard Kadrey. I had just about given up on the series until the last page of the prior book when a man claiming to be Death asked Stark to find his stolen heart… and here he is the sweetest Death since DEATH.
I am about halfway thru, but so far, you appear to be correct. Still, I am enjoying it, in much the same spirit as I would a cross between Batman and Mike Hammer novels - he’s a psychopath with a charmed life, all his enemies appear to have suffered significant brain injury if they can’t figure out his secret identity, but I am being carried along enough that I am not inclined to quibble. As I feared and expected, no mention is made so far of his adoption of the daughter of his worst enemy of the first novel, but plot continuity is probably too much to expect.
For a country parson, he doesn’t seem too conflicted by his oscillations between mercifully sparing, and then ruthlessly betraying and murdering, his enemies, but the author handles the irony of the secret identity entertainingly.
On paper I am reading The Folly of Fools: The Logic of Deceit and Self-Deception by Robert Trivers. Too soon to tell - so far it is mostly on the evolution of mimicry.
Regards,
Shodan
Finished it, and loved it. Turns out the title is a triple entendre that I didn’t see coming.
I’ve now started Franklin and Winston: An Intimate Portrait of an Epic Friendship by Jon Meacham, a joint bio of the WWII leaders. A lot of familiar stuff here, but some that’s new to me.
Finished Sayers’s Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club, which was in all ways an exemplary Classic British Aristocratic Mystery, including the denouement I’ve always hated:
Aristocratic Detective: “Here is a loaded revolver. Do the Gentleman Thing.”
Murderer: “…”
Aristocratic detective and Comrades repair to club bar; offstage BANG.
Aristocratic Detective: “What ho, chaps, whisky and soda all around…?”
Picked up and re-read a used copy of Ross Thomas’s 1983 political thriller Missionary Stew, which proved to be a fine palate cleanser. Shrewd characters, clever dialogue, plenty of sex and murdering.
Finished Deadlands: Boneyard, by Seanan McGuire. It was very good, for the most part.
Now I’m reading A Grand Success! The Aardman Journey, One Frame at a Time, by Peter Lord and David Sproxton.
Finished Misery, by Stephen King. A popular fiction author wrecks his car in rural Colorado and is saved by a batshit crazy lady who claims to be his number-one fan, holds him captive and forces him to write a new novel resurrecting a character he killed off. One of King’s best works. I remember watching the film version when I lived in Albuquerque almost 30 years ago.
Have started The Black Dahlia, by James Ellroy. A fictionalized film-noir account of the infamous 1947 murder in Los Angeles. Ellroy’s breakthrough novel, it is also the first installment in his LA Quartet series, the best-known book of which is LA Confidential. Very good so far.
Yes, I think it’s right up there with The Shining. I very seriously considered naming my daughter Misery.
I finished The Mausoleum, and liked it very much. It was a murder mystery, however, I didn’t much care about the mystery and was frankly confused about what had happened in the end. I just liked the two female characters and the setting so much I wanted to go on reading about them regardless. 
Next up, another murder mystery, The Stranger Diaries by Elly Griffiths.
Finished A Grand Success! The Aardman Journey, One Frame at a Time, by Peter Lord and David Sproxton. It was okay, and I was happy to find out about a bunch of one-minute Wallace and Grommit cartoons they made called “Cracking Contraptions”. They’re on YouTube.
Now I’m reading The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency, by Alexander McCall Smith.
I thought I might name my son Pennywise, but then I never had one.
Just finished The Old Drift, a generations novel about Zambia past-present-future, written by a crackerjack Zambian author. It’s intricate and beautiful and sharp and well-researched.
I wish I’d enjoyed it more.
Generations novels aren’t really my jam, but that’s a personal failing. Even if it took me a long time to make it through the book, I’m glad I read it.
Off to read some shit about spaceships or wizards or something next.
Finished The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency, by Alexander McCall Smith, which I enjoyed.
Now I’m reading The Control of Nature, by John McPhee.
Aw, man. I got some rare time to just go hang out by myself, so I went to a riverside bar, got a beer, settled down on a bench by the river, and opened my new book, to see the two worst words I could see:
“Book Two.”
Black Khan is gonna have to wait until I find the first book in the series.
Now working on Back to the Front by Stephen O’Shea. 1996.
A Canadian baby boomer is embarrassed by his lack of knowledge about the Great War, in which both of his grandfathers fought, and hikes the Western Front from the North Sea to the Swiss Border, dispensing history facts and anecdotes all the way.
Because it’s geographic, the time lines are tough to follow…he describes Passchendaele before the Somme, etc. But it’s a great, non-technical fun read. O’Shea includes all the great phony legends of the war, to his credit…the Angels of Mons, the Crucified Canadian, the tipped Virgin, etc.
I knew a lot of this stuff, but it would be a terrific first read for anyone who wanted to learn more about WWI, after we’ve passed the Centennial.
Just zipped through John Scalzi’s Agent to the Stars, a funny sf novel about a hotshot Hollywood agent hired to represent an ugly, stinky alien race which wants to make a good first impression on humanity.
Agreed. It’s right up there with The Stand, 'Salem’s Lot, 11/22/63 and The Dead Zone for me.
As did my book club and I, a few years back. Never read any of his other books, though.
I finished Bloodsucking Fiends by Christopher Moore for the second, third time? This was my book club’s choice for June 
I did two re-reads on audio book: What Every Body is Saying: An Ex-FBI Agent’s Guide to Speed-Reading People by Joe Navarro and The Girl Who Chased the Moon by Sarah Addison Allen.
I absolutely loved The Girl Who Chased the Moon, as much this time as I did the first time, eight years ago. It’s a magical realism story about forbidden love and healing emotional wounds from the past.
Wouldn’t say I “loved” What Every Body is Saying, but found it a useful primer/refresher on reading body language.
I read The Boy Who Was Raised as a Dog: And Other Stories from a Child Psychiatrist’s Notebook by Bruce D. Perry. It wasn’t what I was expecting; it was heavier on the scientific research than I was expecting. But … that’s a good thing. It made the book better. It made it less of a simple experience reading stories, and more of me actually being able to learn psychological concepts and things about the way the brain develops that I could apply to my own experience and that of the people close to me. Even though this dealt with child psychology, I felt like a lot of the concepts could be applied to any sort of interpersonal interactions – demonstrating how the desire to be touched and nurtured is more than simply an unnecessary pleasure, that it actually affects our physical health and ability to function in the world.
I read Kelly Link’s collection of short stories, Pretty Monsters. She writes these surreal stories in dream-like settings. Having recently read and loved a collection of short stories by Karen Russell, I picked this book up, since I was in the mood for something similar. It scratched that itch, though (a) I definitely prefer Russell’s stories, and (b) I did skip over some of the stories. Some stories were excellent, but not all of them.
Lastly, I just finished Attachments by Rainbow Rowell over the weekend, about a guy who is tasked with monitoring work emails for inappropriate content, and begins to fall for one of the women by reading what she writes. It’s a cute story. The ending wasn’t my favorite, but I kept turning the pages, wanting to know what happened next and thoroughly enjoying the story, so it was a win for me.
I’m still reading The Yiddish Policemen’s Union; I think I’m about 70% through. I’m enjoying it, and I look forward to reading it each night, it’s just taking me a while for some reason.
I read that about six years ago. Here’s my Goodreads review:
Some interesting information, and I was glad to see the author repeatedly remind us that the behaviors he describes are merely indicators that something could be wrong, and not definitive markers of deception. However, I found myself distracted by the author’s writing style: it’s as though he was told that his target audience would be 8th-graders. Very repetitive, and every now and then he unnecessarily defines a word (like “pheremones” or “aperture”) or concept. The style is why I give this book just three stars.
Did you notice any of the style issues that bugged me?
I’ve been staring at this comment for a few minutes, writing and erasing, because I did have some issues with his writing style, and I had trouble putting my finger on what my issues were, and I’m trying to decide if they’re what you mentioned or not. I didn’t really notice unnecessary definitions of words. I did notice that he seemed to unnecessarily belabor certain points, which might be what you’re referring to when you say that it was repetitive and written for an 8th grader. I sometimes felt like he was really emphasizing the idea that you should pay attention to the people around you and other general concepts that were next to useless. Like at the beginning of the book, it felt like he took a while to get into the meat of the book and explain specific actions and concepts, rather than repeating generalities.
Sounds about right! (This is in regard to A Reliable Wife by Robert Goolrick.) I didn;t notice the dramatic declarative statements so much, but the characters acting out of character–definitely. Agreed also about the atmosphere.
I started reading Valedictorian of Being Dead, by Heather B. Armstrong. Armstrong suffered from terrible depression and ultimately underwent a series of experimental treatments that essentially involved stopping brain activity for fifteen minutes at a time. She describes it as in effect a rebooting of the brain. At this point she’s partway through the treatments and finding that, difficult as they are, they seem to be working. (It helps that she is getting enormous amounts of very useful help from her mother.) Much of the book thus far describes her depression and the circumstances of her life, in addition to detailing the experience of the treatments. As someone who also experiences depression, but not nearly as badly, it’s interesting!
Armstrong’s a good writer, a little reminiscent of Anne Lamott for those of you who are familiar with Lamott’s works: the same sort of combination of introspection and humor, though I think Lamott is both more on target than Armstrong when it comes to knowing herself and funnier in the bargain. Anyway, I’ll hope that the second half of the book continues in the same vein.
For fiction, I’m making my way through Dickens’s Bleak House. Overly sentimental of course when viewed through a modern lens, and overly long–hey Charles, not everything has to be described in six paragraphs. But he is so good at characterization, and so good at dialogue, and so pointed in his satire… Exactly where the plot is going and which of the four hundred and fifty-eight characters he’s introduced will end up being important remains to be seen, but for now I’m enjoying the ride. And does my Lady Dedlock have a skeleton or two in her closet, and an unacknowledged daughter associated with the Jarndyce case? Well, we shall see…