Monday Mailbox

It was a banner week for me this week in the mail. I got 6 different review books and a gorgeous set of bookmarks that I won from Nymeth at Things Mean a Lot. Here are the beautiful handmade bookmarks: . And of course, I have immediately started a couple of new books so that I had something to stash them in right away. :-)

As for the books, from Anna at Hatchette Books, I got
I Loved, I Lost, I made Spaghetti by Guilia Melucci. This one is one that I am giving away, winners to be chosen April 8th. If you want to enter the giveaway, click here and the last paragraph tells you all about it.

Hatchette also sent Do-Over: In Which a Forty-Eight-Year-Old Father of Three Returns to Kindergarten, Summer Camp, the Prom, and Other Embarrassments by Robin Hemley. I will be hosting a giveaway for this one in the not too distant future so keep your eyes peeled for that announcement too.

From Shelf Awareness, several book came in this week. They sent Sag Harbor by Colson Whitehead, .

Crazy For the Storm: A Memoir of Survival by Norman Ollestad,

Shanghai Girls by Lisa See,

and The Lace Makers of Glenmara by Heather Barbieri.

And finally, Paula at Author Marketing Experts sent me Life Is Like a Line by Cynthia Sabotka.

I have some really good reading in front of me this week! If you want to see what other people found in their mailboxes this past week, head on over to The Printed Page where Marcia hosts this fun meme every week.

Sunday Salon: Avoiding reading, awards, and a giveaway

Have you ever had a book that you felt obligated to finish and it seemed to suck the life right out of you each and every time you sat down to read it? I have had that all day today (and for several days prior to this too) and it's not a happy feeling. Usually reading is my escape but I looked for every reason to put this one down. I carry books with me everywhere I go so this accompanied me many places. The latest were to yesterday's dance competition and today's tennis match. Yesterday I actually chose to stay planted in the dark auditorium and watch some less than stellar dancing (I may be a dance mom but I am not delusional about the level of dance to which I must subject myself for my daughter's happiness) instead of reading this book. And today, I was pleased to see that the one chair by my son's tennis match (he lost) was broken and so I'd have to stand. That, plus the wind, made it fairly difficult to read so I didn't. And yes, I have been known to read through many a sporting event before, supportive mom that I am. But this was a review book and it needed to be finished so I can write it up. I would have finished it anyway because I am compulsive like that but I would have been likely to let it molder unfinished on the bedside table for an eon first if not for the sense of obligation attached to review books. So I finally sat down and gutted it out. And the book is finished and now I just have to work through a thoughtful and fair review in my head, which could take a bit! But I don't have to read it again and for that I am thrilled.

On a happier reading related note, I have had a good old time getting e-mails about my blog this week. I've gotten two awards (my very first ever). The first was the Best Friends Award from Joy at Llama Queen's Don't Do Homework.





The second was the Premier Dardos Award from Yvonne at Socrates' Book Reviews. I have to think who all to pass them to so I'll be posting about them again, I'm sure. I was also contacted to take a picture of my work space for Cathy's "Scene of the Blog" which you can find at Kittling Books. So sometime this week I'll be snapping a picture of the disaster that is my desk and writing up a brief bit of commentary (Wait! Brief? Me?) to accompany that and sending it along to her. Also this week, I volunteered to be interviewed about blogging by Hava of Nonfiction Lover. I have already filled that out for her but I don't know when it'll be my turn to be featured. I will, of course, post a direct link when it is up. (And no, it's not brief either unless she uses some mad editorial skills!)

And in even more fun book news, I am hosting my very first book giveaway here. There are a couple I can do but the first one I'm going to do is the next one I plan to read myself: I Loved, I Lost, I Made Spaghetti by Giulia Melucci. The lovely Anna at Hatchette Books is offering to send a copy of this book to five different readers of this blog. And if you are anything like me, the thought of getting books in the mail just makes you quiver with excitement so now you're wondering how to enter, right? Leaving me a comment on this post will earn you one entry. Linking back to this contest on your blog and sending me an e-mail so I can check it out will earn you a second entry. Following this blog will earn you a third entry. Sending me chocolate will earn you a fourth entry. Oh wait, nevermind that last one. The weather is getting warmer and the chocolate might melt. But in future, bribes could definitely work! I'll chose the lucky five folks on Wed. Apr. 8, the day the book is due to be released in hardcover (and coincidentally is also my mother's birthday). Make sure you leave me a way to contact you in case you win. Oh, and publisher's rules say No PO Boxes and Only Open to Residents of the US and Canada.

Rural south

R. had a dance competition yesterday someplace I'd never heard of, not that this is surprising given that we haven't lived here very long. We loaded her costumes, shoes and bucket of make-up into the back of the van and headed out. We drove quite a ways into parts of this state I had occasionally heard of on the radio (usually in conjunction with some ridiculously stupid maneuver that put the resident of this place strongly in the running for idiot of the year) but had never had occasion to visit before.

So how do you know you've driven into the rural southland? Well, when you are driving along and the local tractor dealer also has a second sign hanging from his tractor sales sign that advertises "Deer Processing Done Here," that's the first sign. The second sign is also compliments of a local business; the gun shop permanently advertises "Concealed Carry classes." Now silly sheltered me thought that if you wanted to conceal a weapon, you just hid it on your person but apparently you have to learn how to do this (and ostensibly the class grants you a permit for doing such upon successful completion--which reminds me to never tick off rural southerners since they have ready access to these ongoing classes). The third sign was the best yet for the naive suburban dance mom. I wondered at the rough leafy looking stencilling on the sides of some of the strangest tree houses I'd ever seen. Half a beat later (because I do possess a modicum of intelligence after all) I realized they weren't treehouses or playhouses for kids, at least not ones without guns. They were deer blinds or perches or whatever the heck you call them when they are put in trees or up a very tall ladder (the suburban intelligence doesn't stretch to knowing the proper name for them).

And before you other suburban or urban folks ask, all of this was on a major state highway, not tucked along the back roads of this county. Every driveway we passed had a pick-up truck in the driveway. I was starting to think that my minivan with my Yankee carpetbagger plates and the fancy, new police car we saw were the only non-pick-up or utility vehicle we were destined to see out there. I mean, after all, a minivan would look awfully silly with your hunting trophy strapped to the front of it, wouldn't it? But never fear, I saw another deer processing place (yes, two in less than 10 miles) and this one had the added benefit of being called "Stuffy's Taxidermy." I am not even lying.

Of course, I suspect that it's only in the rural south that a dance competition would be heald in an "Agri-Cultural Center." Oh, and Miss R.'s dances earned a platinum and 2 golds, so she was pleased as punch

Self portraits

I am always the person taking the pictures, not the person in the pictures. I am okay with this, especially after my scary photo session today. I got a haircut that I really like and I knew it would never again look the way it looked after the hairdresser blew it dry since I'm a brush and go, leave it to air dry kind of girl. I also know that my hair tends to have a mind of its own and it only holds a style for about 2 nanoseconds before it reverts to form. So I came home and immediately got out the camera. Now I realize that self portraits taken from a camera you are holding in front of your own nose only at the purely pitiful distance your stubby little arms can reach are destined to be hideous but *this* hideous? Hoo boy! I think I took in the neighborhood of 7 trillion pictures and got one that isn't too ugly to admit to. I range from looking like I am wacked out on on some sort of really good drug combo to looking like I am Jay Leno's older, bigger chinned sister. I was always under the impression I was rather cute. Apparently I'm more than wrong, I am completely deluded. Either that or I am the most unphotogenic human being on the planet. Did the rest of you know that my nose was that long and that my skin was that red and patchy? What about the droopy eyelid thing? Did you all know I had that and just thought it was kinder not to tell me? And what about the one eye higher than the other thing? Why didn't someone tell me that my upper lip is unattractively skinny and my eyebrows are crazy weird? I won't even get into my ears since the picture I settled on has my hair over them, hiding their largeness fairly effectively. Wrinkles, did you all think I'd never notice the wrinkles if I didn't see a photo of myself again? Is that why I always get to be the photographer? Sakes alive, I'm not sure who the woman in this photograph is but she's not nearly as cute as the person I see in the mirror (nevermind that the mirror person is obviously a hallucination!). I think I'm going to use the excuse a (strange) long ago friend always used when asked about pictures of himself: "I don't translate well to two dimensions." But I guess if you read through this, you've earned the right to see my newest haircut, just ignore the rest and remember I am much cuter than this picture (could I get you to believe I'm far less grey too?).

Review: The Lost Years of Jane Austen by Barbara Ker Wilson

I have a weakness for all things Jane Austen so when I saw this novel purporting to fill in the missing time in our knowledge of Austen, I snapped it up. Wilson imagines that Austen traveled with her aunt and uncle Leigh Perrot to Australia during this gap of time, drawing a well done portrait of the penal colony in the beginning of the 1800's. Starting with Aunt Jane Leigh Perrot being arrested and falsely accused of stealing lace (based on a true incident in which Mrs. Leigh Perrot spent some months in jail before being brought to trial and exonerated), Wilson imagines that Austen's uncle, an amateur lepidopterist, fixates on the idea of the strange and wonderful natural life in the Antipodes should his wife be inexplicably found guilty and transported. Meanwhile, Austen herself is in Bath with her family and falls in love with every expectation of marriage. But a letter telling her of Elliott Fordwick's untimely demise ends these happy imaginings and it takes Jane a considerable amount of time to stop grieving. With her future completely changed from all expectation, Jane jumps at the chance to accompany her aunt and uncle on the trip to Australia about which her uncle has never quite relinquished hope of taking. Many are the characters introduced in the book before and during the journey as well as once the Leigh Perrots and niece Jane arrive in Sydney; some are historic figures and some are fictional. And despite the billing on the jacket copy of the book, this is not a book about hushing up a failed romance that Austen had while Down Under. It is a well done, interesting, and unusually imagined guess at what Jane Austen could have been doing during the years there was such a dearth of letters to her sister Cassandra.

I was impressed by how well Wilson managed to invoke the language of the time, something so many post-Austen writers fail to do. I enjoyed her characterizations and the way she set up little clues for careful readers to explain things that later found themselves in Austen's actual works. She widened the focus beyond just Austen herself, fleshing out the Leigh Perrots quite extensively, which helped to give the novel a bit more heft and while that generally worked, I felt it did go on just a bit too long, given the dearth of things to do in the colony for a gently reared young lady. But the budding society in Parramatta and Sydney were well described and interesting, especially the details about the former convicts. Overall, a satisfying read that will probably appeal to most Jane-ites, despite the seeming incongruity of Austen in Australia.

Review: Merry Hall by Beverley Nichols

The first in a trilogy, this lovely book chronicles Nichols' search for and purchase of a country freehold not too far from London where he can garden. Taking place not too long after the end of the Second World War, not only is this a delightful and enchanting book about plants and gardening, but it is awonderful snapshot of a time long since past. Nichols' garden is his main focus but he also introduces the reader to his eccentric neighbors, his elderly gardener, and various other people about the place. He discusses the folly and joys that came with purchasing his estate. And he generally injects enough light humor in all areas that this was a wonderful, completely appealing read. There are certainly instances that firmly place this in its time period but it has aged well and was a wonderfully diverting book to cozy in with for an afternoon. I have to actually physically restrain myself from jumping immediately into the second book in the trilogy, wanting to draw out the pleasure a bit by savoring the anticipation of an equally lovely amount of time spent with it. And don't skip over this book thinking that you aren't a gardener and don't want to read about gardening. Anyone who lights a hedge on fire on purpose and scorches the heck out of his new albeit slightly dilapidated home should be able to entertain any and all non-fiction readers with ease.

The end of the world

Three things have happened recently that have convinced me the end of the world is imminent.

1. I went to cycle class today without anyone else to make me accountable.

2. I have still not cracked open my birthday pots of Graeter's Ice Cream and I'm actually enjoying the anticipation.

3. And perhaps most fatally, I walked out of a bookstore without buying a thing.

Yes folks, look for me wearing a sandwich board proclaiming "The End Is Coming" on the nearest street corner and start making wild plans for what to do before it comes because the above signs are definitely signs of an apocalypse in my world!