Nov 19, 2005 | Uncategorized
Finished The Egyptologist. I then checked out the Amazon reviews. A very mixed bag there. Partly, the problem is that some folks bought this book expecting a standard historical mystery/thriller in the vein of Elizabeth Peters. The book is not that at all. It's a literary novel that explores class divides, poverty, madness, and self-absorption. It's also a dark comedy, more like the movie Heathers where Christian Slater goes around killing the snobby girls that Wynona Ryder hates. The Egyptologist is Heathers in costume. But only sort of, so don't let that statement make you think you know the plot.
Some people were upset to have figured out the main twist early on. In fact, I think it's deliberately set up that way, but I also think it remains ambiguous enough for at least half of the book that you aren't entirely sure what you think is the truth. It becomes increasingly obvious that you were right, however, but even then I don't think you expect the ending. The answers to the questions are all there for the careful reader. I admit that being inside the head of Ralph Trilipush for such long stretches does get annoying, however. I know he's a pompous ass and I don't need to be banged over the head with it repeatedly.
But the book got a good review from Barbara Mertz, who also happens to be Dr. Barbara Mertz, PhD in Egyptology (U of Chicago, no slouch there). Dr. BM is also Barbara Michaels, novelist, and also, if you didn't know it, Elizabeth Peters, the author of the wonderful Amelia Peabody series. Dr. Barbara Mertz, aka Barbara Michaels, aka Elizabeth Peters knows her stuff when it comes to Egypt. She also knows how to tell a rollicking good tale, so for those who bemoaned the fact this book was nothing like the Amelia Peabody books, well, it wasn't meant to be and she knew it. It's a literary novel, not a thriller, and it's darned fine for what it does.
After finishing The Egyptologist at midnight, I picked up Doctorow's new book. Mike is on a business trip to DC, so I didn't have anyone beside me asking me to please turn out the light. In spite of that first long sentence, the story so far moves along at a good clip. Much quicker paced than the Egypt book. The first scene, in fact, reminds me of Aunt Pitty Pat in her carriage shrieking to Scarlett that they need to get out of Atlanta before Sherman gets there. You can't start off a book much more tensely than with Sherman marching along behind you and torching everything in sight. This book promises to be a fairly quick read, surprisingly. We'll see.
Nov 17, 2005 | Uncategorized
By now you know the winners:
Fiction, William Vollman, Europe Central
Non-fiction, Joan Didion, The Year of Magical Thinking
Poetry, W. S. Merwin, Migration: New and Selected Poems
Young People's Literature, Jeanne Birdsall, The Penderwicks: A Summer Tale of Four Sisters, Two Rabbits and a Very Interesting Boy
I'm certainly not surprised that Didion won. The book is a tour de force, to trot out a hack phrase. It's simply stunning.
OTOH, I just bought Doctorow's book at Borders lastnight. I was sure he'd win, as were most people, simply on the force of his literary giantness. Though, as previously reported, that first sentence of The March is a kicker. In flipping through the book, however, I noted that the rest of the prose doesn't suggest Ulysses redux. So I took the plunge. I had 20 bucks in my Christmas account anyway, so I got the book basically for free. Gotta love that.
I can't begin it, however, until I finish The Egyptologist (by Arthur Phillips; see post on Reading Material). What a fun book! The egyptologist himself, a Mr. Ralph Trilipush of Oxford, Harvard, and who knows where, is the most deluded guy on the planet. He is so convinced of his own correctness that every setback, every proof negative, he recasts to make it favorable to his theory. He is a hoot! And the mystery is, really, who is this Ralph Trilipush anyway? Is he who he claims to be? What the heck is going on in 1922 Egypt? I'd be reading it now, except I've promised myself I will do some work today.
Nov 17, 2005 | Uncategorized
In my email today comes this:
Dear Lynn,
My name is Tracey Rosengrave, Marketing Manager for Xlibris Corporation, a Print-On-Demand Self-Publishing company. We are sending you this email because we have either learned about your passion for writing or we have had the pleasure of coming across some of your work. If you are interested in self-publishing, I’ve included a brief description of who we are below.
Key phrase there is SELF-PUBLISHING.
Everyday we help authors by offering flexible, inexpensive methods of publishing, editing, marketing, distributing and selling books both in trade and full color. I understand that each author has different requirements. And that is why we offer packages that are tailored to your individual needs.
Next phrases to pay attention to: BY OFFERING […] INEXPENSIVE METHODS […] PACKAGES TAILORED TO YOUR INDIVIDUAL NEEDS. (Honestly, where is the editor here? I'd write it thus: I understand each author has different requirements, which is why we offer packages tailored to individual needs.)
You should, in general, not have to pay someone to publish your work. They pay you, not the other way around. There are exceptions, sure, but be sure you know the difference before embarking on self-publishing. It's not necessarily a bad thing, but it's not the best scenario either. For a good perspective on POD, visit POD-dy Mouth (and no, the Lynn Harris mentioned on her blog is not me).
Nov 16, 2005 | Uncategorized
Um, nothing.
Non-fascinating things I did today: finally finished editing the galleys for Strong Currents 2, the anthology put out by my RWA chapter. Co-editor Michael will be pleased, because when he flies back into Honolulu tonight, after 9 days on the East Coast, he won't have to spend valuable catching-up-on-sleep time lighting a fire under my butt. 🙂
I also unpacked my Yamaha keyboard. It's only been wrapped up for almost two years. Last night, whilst attending a meeting in the parish hall, I tinkled the ivories. Oh my GAWD! I sound awful. I have forgotten so much. Joanne, my lovely piano teacher in Deutschland, would be horrified if she knew the depths to which I have slipped (note: send card to Joanne, don't mention piano playing). I have a piano, a beautiful antique thing from England, but it's naturally out of tune after being shipped halfway around the world. Have I bothered to get it tuned yet? Of course not. And not because I keep forgetting (though that's part of it) but because I don't trust just anyone to tune it. It's old and it can't be tuned to concert pitch. I'm sure your garden variety piano tuner knows that, but I worry anyway.
So, for nearly two years, I've made excuses not to practice my piano playing. No wonder I stink. I stared at the music today and wondered what the heck some of those little bars and dots meant. I could feel the disappointment rising inside me, swelling into my throat and threatening me with tears of frustration.
And then, it clicked, that lovely Bach minuet I used to play so well. My fingers remembered what my mind did not. Still, it wasn't as nice as it used to be.
Writing is the same, really. When you don't practice it, you get rusty. You forget. Sentences that once would have flowed get bogged down in the mire. You have to fight your way out, clawing and scraping to get those words back, those fresh original words instead of the stock cliches that spring from your fingers to the page. It's easy to get frustrated, to want to just plop your hiney in the mire and give up, or to put the music away and stash the keyboard in a corner.
The trick is not succumbing to that feeling.
Nov 15, 2005 | Uncategorized
It took me forever, only because I already know the story and because I was reading other things too, but I just finished Virginia Woolf's The Voyage Out for the second time. It's her first novel, and not her best, but the way in which she gets inside her characters' heads is just wonderful. They don't think the way fictional characters think. Their thoughts are random, compounding on one another, sprung from who they are and what they want or think they want. This technique comes to beautiful fruition, I believe, in To The Lighthouse.
I also just finished Lolita. Wow is all I can say. I was ambivalent, truly ambivalent, but Nabokov won me over with his style. Humbert Humbert is disgusting and witty and sarcastic and pitiful all at once. He grew as a character. He was, in a symbolic way perhaps, redeemed. By acknowledging what he did, what he caused in Lolita's life, he became someone you could have empathy for. Lolita, poor lamb, is doomed.
The book I just started is Arthur Phillips's The Egyptologist. Very enjoyable so far. I was a bit put off at first by the fact I thought the detective and the egyptologist sounded alike, but I got into the rhythm of each character's “writings” and now they are totally separate for me.
Nov 15, 2005 | Uncategorized |
First, mea culpa. When I mentioned web designers with good reputations and pretty portfolios, I forgot my friend Terry! Check out Daily Troll Design. Terry is also the personality behind I See Invisible People, a great blog about pop culture, politics, writing, and lots of other things. I've known her for over 10 years now. We first met on the now-defunct GEnie bulletin board system–waaaay back in '93, I think.
Second, did you see the NYT article about the woman who got the entire Penguin Library as a gift from her husband? He ordered it from Amazon, it cost almost $8000 (free shipping, however), arrived in 25 boxes and weighs over 400 lbs. It's 77 linear feet of books. *sigh*
I'm envious, though I do have the Great Books, and I do have lots and lots of good books on my eleven bookshelves. And I probably wouldn't really want all those books that look alike (the spines, anyway). I've got variety in height, color, pb or hb, trade size and mass market. Pleases my book-hoarding eye.
I got to thinking, though, how much I must have paid for all the books I have. I've never counted, but I reckon I have several hundred. It's scary when you think of it like that–5oo, for instance, times $10 (averaging out hb and pbs). Whoa. Don't tell my husband.
On the other hand, I didn't buy them all at retail. Some were gifts, some inheritances from others, and some I got at library sales for bargain basement prices. (Yes, I am a believer in buying books at retail so the author gets paid, but when I see a title I want in a library sale, I'm going for it.)
Where do I find the time to read them all? Reminds me of a Groucho Marx quote. I find television very educational. Every time somebody turns on the set, I go into the other room and read a book.
