Browsing Books: Book Haul Edition (Finally Part II of II)

It’s been a long time coming.

In August 2022, I was able to pull myself out of a book slump by way of some inspiration from a BookTuber who had been documenting her reading journey. I visited a bookstore and came home with a haul, then went again, and again, and again….

Additionally, Turtle, who is often around books and film, has on several occasions created special bundles for past Mother’s Day, birthday, and Christmas book gifting. He chose a few singleton volumes, but then also curated a set of six, each chosen from specific genres: historical fiction, sci-fi, fantasy, literary fiction, romance, and non-fiction. On top of that he periodically came home with a title he saw and thought, “She’d love this.” Often it is an Alexander McCall Smith book (he grew up hearing me talking endlessly about them), maybe a coloring book with a theme he knows I enjoy. Once it was a new title about Francis Marion, the Swamp Fox of the Revolution. He still has a memory like a steel trap and remembers well my childhood story of his grandfather coming home from a walk, during which he passed a church book sale and picked out a book for me about that same historical figure.

So, in these past nineteen months I have acquired a fair number of books, but never got around to part two of this blog. Luckily, I’m here to remedy this today.

In between parts one and two there have been other books, and you can see some in the slide show at the top of the sidebar. They are not all there yet, so do check back every so often to see them plus others I acquire after today. Note: I do thrift a lot, so if this blog puts a bug in you, remember that you don’t have to go wild with spending money to have a nice little collection. Many, many of my books cost 10¢ – no joke! Also, even buying new at a bookstore, many of the titles I have picked up are sold at “buy one get one 50% off” (BOGO) and the store I go to price matches to their website (just let them know, it’s a simple button they press), so you stand to get some really good deals.

In college I fell in love with The Odyssey – not in an I must pursue this for the rest of my life type love, but rather one that recognized a previous gap in my reading experiences. So, I was pretty stoked to find Claire North’s Ithaca, the story of Penelope with the how and why behind the pressures mounting on her in the continued absence of Odysseus, and her role in a civil war that may yet be, depending upon the choices she makes. But no pressure, right?

And then comes book two in the Songs of Penelope series: House of Odysseus, more about Penelope’s balance of power, now in her existence between two mad kings and amongst other strong women with their own plans and perspectives.

Considering that in college linguistics was – and even then I knew this – only a casual interest, as fascinating as I knew I would always find it, I was a little surprised to find the author name on the book I happened upon was one I recognized as belonging to an academic whose words I’d previously studied. Deborah Tannen was not an author I expected to see amongst the browsing of books one generally reads for pleasure, but there it was: Finding My Father: His Century-Long Journey from World War I Warsaw and My Quest to Follow, and for a mere dollar. I’d not seen it when it was published in 2020, and somehow, I was a bit saddened that it was on what we call the “dollar rack.” But I also have snapped up great finds in the bargain section (Grey is the Colour of Hope is one that stands out), fiction and non-fiction. The Great War era also is currently one I would like to know more about, so it had to be mine.

Note: Link shows book price as $18, so you may wish to check your local store before purchasing online.

In a garden surrounded by a tall fence, tucked away behind a small house in the smallest of towns, is an apple tree rumored to bear a very special sort of fruit. I read about another enchanted tree once, one that gave way to a massive peach, which I know in my telling sounds like the blurb for one of the thousands of fantasy tales that doesn’t stand out. I assure you, however, James and the Giant Peach touched millions of lives. Our beloved third grade teacher read it to us, and I still love it. Plus there is another connection that piqued my curiosity, mythical plants, the casting of spells…Garden Spells pretty much wrapped its tendrils around me.

Wild and Wicked Things comes straight off the poster of “judging a book by its cover,” as just the sight of the design made me want the volume, not to mention its nice, stocky appearance and deckled edges. Lucky for me it’s set in the 1920s, a decade that falls within the era before and after the Great War that has lately captured my interest. There is a Beatrice, and witchcraft in this era is a theme I’d never really considered – I more often consider it of the Middle Ages, or seventeenth-century Salem. But Emmaline Delacroix – a name that seems to contradict accusations of witchcraft – does seem to belong here, in this time of excess and dripping decadence. I have an idea where at least some of this may be going, so we’ll have to march on and see if it plays out.

I often play word games on my phone, usually two that involve letters to create words. (I used to turn the phone upside down to look at the letters from a different perspective before I realized a click arranges them for you in a different order.) Brain Games Bible Word Search: Psalms is a bit different in that here are whole words you are searching for, but I thought it a nice twist that adds a bit of variety to how I exercise my brain. There were several Bible-themed titles, as I recall, and I chose this one because I’d like to become more familiar with the psalms; this not only does that but also places biblical poetry within the course of my day, rather than a small, sectioned-out portion that is set aside when it is complete. So far, I’ve done one puzzle and just as I was thinking, “Is this really too easy for me?” I stumbled upon the reality that I simply could not find the final word.

A big part of the appeal of The Lost Bookshop was it being set in Ireland. The blurb, which spoke of three strangers, a vanishing bookshop, and transport to a world of wonders, remains elusive, really giving nothing away in terms of what the book is about. Sure, we have the three strangers, etc., but what does that mean? What is the gist of the storyline? I found myself willing to take the chance on the three – could it be the promise of Irish accents? – even though I was told there is a bit of depressing content. But it is also set in the 1020s, and the cover displays beautiful vines that look a lot like the fairy lights-eucalyptus leaves I’d hung on my living room curtains just that day. Really, book beckon us to them is so many amazing ways.

Have you ever seen a unicorn? I have not, though I also don’t have a lot of experience reading fantasy. To be honest, The Crystal Cave, my favorite book in the whole world, may be partly to blame, in truth, because no other fantasy could really measure up, an intriguing reality given Merlin’s insistence upon its anti-fantasy content. He always had “real-world” explanations for events, though I continued to believe there is room for non-evil magic in our world. So perhaps The Last Unicorn will open that up for me, and maybe explain why it took so long for me to even hear about this novel said to be a classic. (Or maybe I have heard of it but dismissed it in the past?) It was recommended to me just last night and so far, I’ve read only the anti-introduction, which spoke such truth about introductions and made me laugh in just the right places. I really hope I love this book!

Honorary Mentions

The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane, paperback, had a familiar look to it and I was attracted to the blurb. The cover design nagged at me; I knew I’d seen it before. I ended up adding it to my “I’ll come back for you” pile behind the counter – buying a stack of books over the course of a few days is my attempt to alleviate the guilt, and I keep doing it even though it doesn’t really work – and when I came back the familiarity haunting me deepened. I knew I not only had seen this book but also owned it. The design was just too unique. Upon my return home I walked directly to where it was and picked it up. My copy is hard cover and the inside, unlike the paperback, is beautifully decorated with handwriting that must be from the physick book itself. So this isn’t really a purchase, but it is “re-discovered,” as has been my intrigue with the Salem witch trials, a topic I once wrote about in elementary school and aim to again. The bones of the story reside in my memory, and I hope Deliverance Dane will re-acquaint me with my long -lost protagonist.

Kate Sedley’s The Wicked Winter is also not a new purchase, not even a purchase, in fact, but rather a library book. I’d carried it from home to the bookstore coffee house side for a spot of reading and side of people watching. It also came up in conversation with the person who recommended The Last Unicorn, and I’m excited to report that he wrote the title in a small book he keeps in his pocket, an act Turtle (who knows him) assures me is a mark of serious interest rather than passive politeness. (He also noted in his book the Hawkenlye info I provided – huzzah!) Sixth in the medieval mystery Roger the Chapman series, within it Roger himself records his adventures as a traveling salesman and solver of mysteries, the former part of his passion – also a key reason why he had left his place as a Benedictine monk – and the latter a combination blessing and seeming punishment from God, whom Roger often tries to talk out of leading him toward violent crime, plots, and intrigue.

Note: This book seems to have a strange status in that it appears to be out of print, though available in e-book format. Used paperback copies are easy to procure, but I’m not sure if new ones are available, which is really a shame because this is such a great series.

I am so thankful for the many gifts I have been given.

Book Review: In the Shadows of Castles by G.K. Holloway

G.K Holloway takes us for a walk through history to witness events close up…

Thirteenth-century version of Harold’s crowning, from an anonymous Life of King Edward the Confessor in Cambridge University Library. Image courtesy Wiki Commons; click for more info.

It’s the 1060s, and William of Normandy is establishing a new and brutal regime in England, but there are those who would defy him. As Norman soldiers spread like a plague across the land, resistance builds, but will it be enough to topple William and restore the rightful king to his throne? The English have the courage to fight, but the Normans, already victorious at Hastings, now build castles, seeking to secure their tenuous foothold in these lands.

And what of the people caught up in these catastrophic events? Dispossessed but not defeated, their lives ripped apart, the English struggle for freedom from tyranny; amongst them, caught up in the turmoil, are a soldier, a thane and two sisters. As events unfold, their destinies become intertwined, bringing drastic changes that alter their lives forever.

William, seen here lifting his helmet at the Battle of Hastings to show he is still alive, is said to have attempted to learn English, but found the language too difficult. Image courtesy Wiki Commons; click for more info.

Firmly embedded in the history of the Conquest, In the Shadows of Castles is ultimately a story of love, hope and survival in a time of war.

In the Shadows of Castles is a
Bookbag 2023 Top 10 Self-Published Book

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There is no denying the year 1066 is a seminal one in English history. The event – a large scale and audacious attack in October with William, Duke of Normandy’s goal of seizing the throne from King Harold Godwinson – is so enormous even now, nearly 1,000 years later, that American schoolchildren, too, learn about it. Giant as the collective memory is, though, the lessons often wrap up somewhere around Christmas and William’s coronation.

G.K. Holloway’s In the Shadows of Castles, examines events beyond that, amongst the lives of a cast of characters forced to live within the shadows William’s forces create with astonishing speed, shadows of castles that loom over the landscape, freezing out the English in their own country, pushing them to kowtow to foreign forces looming over them in all aspects of life.

These forces quickly make themselves known in the first chapter, even before William’s coronation at Christmas. This moment, “William’s moment,” however, is overshadowed by chaos, and basking in his own exaggerated self-importance must be set aside. The author quickly gets into the thick of the story, which centers on ordinary people – and this is one of the things I like best about the book. It is their story, really, despite it being brought about by a foreign invader.

In the Shadows of Castles is sequel to the author’s first and fabulous tale, 1066: What Fates Impose. In that novel we read Harold’s story, of how the elites respond and what their losses entail. Here, Holloway sets us alongside four ordinary men and women – two English rebels: housecarl Bondi with Yorkshire thane Whitgar, and sisters Morwenna and Elfwyn – and we are privy not only to their daily lives but also their innermost thoughts, terrors, hopes, and aspirations. We witness their willingness to fight for freedom, for each other, even when their intentions are threatened by fears of failure. Their resistance is front and center, but the tale is woven with historical details that showcase the author’s research and attention to the particulars of this unimaginable time of social and political upheaval.

Many of us know full well what happens to the English overall: the ruling class is wiped away and replaced with Normans; the Harrying of the North; smaller failed rebellions; and the ultimate takeover of a resource-wealthy country whose citizens are relegated to that of second class. Holloway’s approach and abilities lend two advantages to Shadows, in that the four are people whose individual fates are not recorded in any history books, so we really do not know what awaits them, nor do they know of the disasters ahead for them and their countrymen. That anticipation and suspense is paired with characters written in such a way that we not only relate to their perspectives, we also like and care about them as individuals: we cheer them on and, not unlike our wishes for Harold Godwinson in What Fates Impose, on some level hope they will ultimately come out the victors.

About those characters: something else I enjoyed about the author’s treatment of his cast links to how we think of those who lived 1,000 years ago. There’s no question that the world they lived in is much different to the one we know today. The characters are products of their time and behave in a manner consistent with it. However, there are similarities as well, and Holloway crafts a realistic balance resulting in scenes both unfathomable and familiar and in how individuals respond to their lives, old and disturbingly new. Cruel Pomeroy remembers only negative and violent attention from his father. Elfwynn senses danger in approaching riders and instinctively warns the children. Later in the novel, as the sisters traverse a series of tunnels in an escape bid, Morwenna lies to Elfwynn regarding the presence of rats, which the latter fears.

Holloway’s abilities with dialogue continue from 1066, and we see these characters are more than that: as individuals, rather than just dry, faraway historical figures. The author also lists the cast at book’s beginning and provides a map of 1060s England, which for me is extra fantastic because it enables me to visualize where people are as they travel to and fro – and knowing their locations and relationships to one another also helps bring them to life. That they don’t all start out coming from the same locale, perspective, or positions also lends credibility to this focus on ordinary people – the very individuals whose lives I value reading about – as we see them coming together and, at times, coming apart.

“They had taken the first step on the road to William’s downfall. [Whitgar] knew the story of Oswulf’s exploit would spread through taverns and marketplaces. It was as if he had helped reclaim a bit of England, albeit in the far north. It was a victory. But where Oswulf had led, would others follow?”

In the Shadows of Castles is not only a very readable tale; it is also what you wanted to know about after learning the 1066 story – and, like it or not, we get what we came for. Someone’s house is on a spot of land where a castle would fit just right? The Normans tear it down. One small group angers William? Masses of people are burned out from their homes and land, which suffers a scorched-earth policy to match the tens of thousands who perish from the starvation that ensures even initial survivors would meet a brutal end. A rebel group assassinates an official loyal to William? Thousands are made to face a war machine that tears them apart. And yet they still keep fighting, and we keep cheering them.

These people are, after all, where many of us come from, and they fought – for all of us – in the cause of freedom and justice. Though we will never know the real names and stories of all the individuals affected by this horrible invasion, or even just a lot of them, Holloway gives us insight into what they were like, what they did pre-invasion, what they cared about in their regular lives. He provides faces to some of those unnamed but real-life persons who played roles in the rebellions of notable figures such as Hereward the Wake.

What of contemplations of fate that had swirled throughout the first book, daring us to ponder its inevitability? Which decisions on the part of any given character influence the ultimate outcome – for that person as well as others, or the nation as a whole? What comes next? To a certain extent, we each have to provide our own answers as we read the stories – for it is more than one story – of Bondi, Whitgar, Morwenna, Elfwyn, et al., and as the author draws us toward the story’s conclusion, we have to ask, Is this really the end?

Holloway does indeed have plans for a third volume in the 1066 Saga, and it is his illustration of these characters, informed by his understanding of human nature, that will lead us back to this era, possibly as a way to help us understand our own. In the Shadows of Castles shows us how freedom-loving people will respond to that cloud of tyranny hovering above them and can be read as a stand-alone novel, though I would urge readers to experience both, and keep their eyes peeled for the next.

How did author G.K. Holloway decide to write a book about King Harold Godwinson, a decision that moved him into the full time writing life of an author? Well, it seems Harold may have chosen him. The author-to-be was gifted a book about Harold, and that reading changed his life. Holloway continues at his website, “The decision to write 1066 was one of best I ever made. Research took me to places I either had never heard of or I thought I’d never see. In England I visited York, Stamford Bridge, Winchester, Bosham, Battle, Stowe Anglo Saxon village. In Normandy I went to Falaise, Mont St Michael and of course Bayeux, to see the famous tapestry. The more I researched the more amazed I became about how events played out. For Harold, everything that could go wrong did go wrong. It was as though the gods were against him; hence the title, 1066: What Fates Impose.

The events of mid eleventh century may seem a long way away but the Battle of Hastings set England on a new course. In the early part of that distant century, England had been just one of the kingdoms in Knut’s Empire, which included Denmark and Norway. England was as much a part of the north as the other two. The language and culture were similar. England did not look south for ideas and remained aloof from southern European affairs. After Hastings all this changed. Some say if it wasn’t for the Normans, England would never have risen to prominence. If that’s true, there may never have been a British Empire. If it isn’t true, there might have been some sort of Nordic Empire that spanned even more of the world. So what impact do I think the Normans had on England? The answer to that will be in the sequel [the review for which you just read!], but it is fair to say a Norman victory changed England forever and consequently had ramifications that echo on through the centuries and around the world.”

G.K. Holloway can be found at Facebook, and 1066: What Fates Impose as well as In the Shadows of Castles may both be found at Barnes and Noble, Amazon, and Amazon UK. The third in the series, Fire in the Fens, is tentatively scheduled for publication in August 2024. The author will also be appearing at the Battles Through History Festival, at the South of England Showground, on the weekend of September 28-29, 2024. Book your tickets now!

Book Haul: Cold and Sunny Edition (and a Giveaway Into the Bargain!)

Please note that the draw date has been extended to May 1

~ simply comment for your chance to win!

So…before last week’s birthday blog for George Harrison, it’d been a while. Without getting into an abundance of details, I’ll just say I have made my way through a slog that went on for over a year, and now it is lifting. Somewhat slowly, but still lifting and I’ll take what I can get.

Now that I’m more and more interested in Jane Austen, I seem to be seeing her everywhere! (Click image for more info. )

This winter was actually kind of nice. I’ve been working from home since last May, and though at first I had been wary of falling into the WFH trap whereby I start rolling out of bed at 07:55 and trudging to the desk, it has instead been a dose of something I really needed. You see, I used to work in an unimaginably toxic situation – so bad, in fact, that I did start to fall into an abyss. Then I made the move, and between being on my own turf – which has been incredibly healing – and work and a team I really enjoy, I had something on my side much stronger than potential WFH sluggishness.

I did need to get outside at the end of each workday, even if it meant just walking around the neighborhood. But I was able to enjoy the sharp, cold air because the context was not the hurried scraping of ice off the car windows as I headed to a place I knew was excruciatingly bad for me, or later coming back inside, exhausted in every possible way. Instead, I slowly took in my surroundings, thinking about a variety of things pleasing to have roaming freely through my mind. When I went back inside, the cold swirling about my person, I felt cozy and happy and grateful for the warmth – and also the cold.

Most American schoolchildren know the basic story of events as they unfolded that night at Ford’s Theatre. It is, for many Americans, still a very somber and sorrowful topic, and one of our historical events for which we have a long memory. (Click for more info.)

Today has been the type of Saturday I’ve been longing for, in that I made plans for things I wanted to do, rather than errands or obligations. I’d thought about it last night: going to a thrift store I’d not been to for at least a year, one I go to specifically for the books. When I woke, I felt the cold, but saw also the sunbeam floating through my room, thrilled that at last the light was extending to my weekend. Here I was, with true free time, and I wanted to get up and go. It wasn’t just a need for release from the four walls (although there was that too). I felt a desire for movement, discovery, to be in the gaze of the sun and allow his warmth to tingle my senses and for me to be a deliberate part of my world.

It wasn’t a glorious moment in the film sense, with a crescendo of uplifting music that stirs the hearts of viewers – but it was no less lovely. As I moved amongst the books in the shop, I began to think of the blog and things I’d wanted to do with it – and there it was: The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency, a book I tend to buy when I see it because I like to give it away. Then I saw another from the series and picked that up as well. As in the presence of a lamp being lit, my eyes began to open, and I felt the glimmer of inspiration.

I must have stumbled upon a collector’s donation! I know next to nothing about Patton’s, and in fact never knew there was any controversy. (Click for more info.)

And so here am I, finally talking about what I’ve been wanting to do for so long, and that is open up a series of giveaways. It’s a fun way to celebrate a book haul because, as I always used to say to my Turtle, “It’s fun to share.” I’ve always loved it when people won things: a CD or tee shirt, fancy box of tea bags or sweets, whatever it was. Sure, these are just material things, but the reality is that sometimes these unexpected wins bring a sweetness to life, and it makes me happy to see people so blessed.

So…the books in today’s blog are those I scooped up in my wanderings and, in the coming months, are amongst those I will be gifting. A note about availability: owing to the prohibitive cost of shipping books past American borders, these hard copy giveaways will by necessity need to be U.S. only. However, I will be doing other giveaways in which I will order online for international readers. Stay tuned!

Believe in Jesus or not, there’s no debate he changed the world. While I do like to read about Jesus, I am also attracted to details of his time and the people who inhabited it. (Click image for more info.)

To get us started, may I present to you the aforementioned No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency (paperback). I “discovered” this book twenty-three years ago, at another time when I (and many millions of others) needed healing. I was smitten, and upon discovering it was part of a series, overjoyed. The blurb, from Barnes and Noble ~

NATIONAL BESTSELLER • Fans around the world adore the bestselling No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency series and its proprietor, Precious Ramotswe, Botswana’s premier lady detective. In this charming series, Mma  Ramotswe—with help from her loyal associate, Grace Makutsi—navigates her cases and her personal life with wisdom, good humor, and the occasional cup of tea.

I fell in love with this book over twenty years ago and haven’t stopped – and the series is still going strong. This title is today’s giveaway, so be sure to comment for your chance to win! (Click image for more info about the book.)

This first novel in Alexander McCall Smith’s widely acclaimed The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency series tells the story of the delightfully cunning and enormously engaging Precious Ramotswe, who is drawn to her profession to “help people with problems in their lives.” Immediately upon setting up shop in a small storefront in Gaborone, she is hired to track down a missing husband, uncover a con man, and follow a wayward daughter. But the case that tugs at her heart, and lands her in danger, is a missing eleven-year-old boy, who may have been snatched by witchdoctors.

The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency received two Booker Judges’ Special Recommendations and was voted one of the International Books of the Year and the Millennium by the Times Literary Supplement.

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Mma Ramotswe is a character you really grow to care about, and I loved her mannerisms, her love of country, and even what makes her vulnerable. (You can see more mention of her world from me here and here.) This is true as well of Mma Makutsi, whose growth through the series has been accompanied by a range of emotion and experience that we are privileged to witness.

Any comment at all gets you an entry into the drawing for this copy of No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency, so don’t forget to do that, and I’ll announce the winner on the first Saturday in April. (Heh, I was thinking April 1, but then realized that’s April Fool’s Day, and don’t want to lead anyone to believe they’ve been tricked!)

Note: Drawing has been extended to Saturday, May 1.

Bonus entry: mention your favorite series and you’ll get two entries! A few words on why you fell for that series and I’ll toss in a total of three entries for you!

Remember: commenting and posting the link elsewhere helps me share the love!

Next up: A book review for historical fiction set in a watershed moment in history.

This is the eleventh installment in the No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency series, but they each stand alone, so you needn’t have read the first ten to enjoy this one. But you will probably end up wanting to! (Click image for more info.)

George Harrison: I’ve Got My Mind Set on You (Happy Birthday)

For better or worse, I never had a “discovery” moment when it came to the Beatles, because in my whole life they always were, even in childhood; they were already a thing when my time came. Some have accused me of glomming on to my brother’s love of the Beatles – as a child, I idolized my brother – but whether this was true or not, I did love them, or perhaps they grew on me easily. Their music only got more attractive the more I listened, and it was very easy to sing to, something I loved to do (though was not entirely brilliant at).

Cover for the Beatles’ final studio album, Let it Be. George is lower right. It is one of my favorite pictures of him. Image courtesy Wiki Commons. (For more info, click image.)

I also loved to decipher song lyrics, for I was always curious regarding what people sang about, and I spent hours playing and replaying music, very often stopping it to jot down what had just been sung and filling up notebooks with my scribblings. I did this with tracks from the Beatles’ early catalog, but things became more intriguing the further into their career I got, and if I’d noticed their music before, I really perked up my ears when I found “Within You, Without You,” a George Harrison composition that dove deeper into what drove me than any other song I’d encountered.

Sure, I did somewhat connect to “Tomorrow Never Knows” – an attraction to the manipulation of the music is undeniable, and I certainly appreciated such lyrics as in the singer’s directive to “listen to the color of your dreams.” I enjoyed playing with words, giving them and numbers personalities, even histories in the case of the latter. “Passion” to me matched with black, not red as other people asserted. I loved using words in archaic or unusual ways, and often asked annoying questions that I now understand to be related to grammar, such as which word was modifying which, “so did the phrase mean this, or did it really mean that?”

But the song also sat with me in a way I didn’t necessarily enjoy all that much, though at the time I was really still quite young – under ten – and had neither the understanding of the world nor the language to articulate myself. Now I can say it probably struck me as a narrative about acting for the benefit of yourself, for what your own senses crave. Later I understood it also entailed risks pertaining to what people will do to satisfy such a hunger, whatever the danger to oneself or any other. “Turn off your mind, relax, and float downstream…” did not really appeal to me, even before I learned about acid, because I had already read my share (“my share” being relative, given my age at the time) of material on workings of the brain, and I was fascinated, but the mind…I didn’t really want to go there. I’d learned enough about that too.

Ravi Shankar, who taught Harrison to play the sitar, pictured in 1969. Image courtesy Wiki Commons. (For more info, click image.)

Like the other Beatles, George Harrison went there. According to Philip Norman’s 2023 biography, George Harrison: The Reluctant Beatle, the singer’s introduction to LSD came about during a dinner party he attended at the home of a dentist friend, who’d slipped it into their coffee. Initially conflating its effects with “spiritual awakenings and being artistic,” he later realized its horrible potential, following a disillusionment with the Haight-Ashbury scene. After examining the drug in liquid form under a microscope, he observed, “[I]t was like bits of old rope. I thought I couldn’t put that into my brain anymore.”

This era in Harrison’s life coincided with the onset of his studies of Indian mysticism, and he began receiving sitar lessons from Ravi Shankar, a member of Asian Music Circle, a group established to promote Indian culture.

Shankar made George play always with eyes shut until he knew every fret in the long labyrinth by touch alone. Even to fingertips hardened by years of sliding up and down a guitar fretboard, the endless-seeming scales were “murder.”

Yet the da’s and the diri-diris were not the only part of his training. Fundamental to Shankar’s teaching was that “music has the power to lead you towards God,” the oral tradition of Indian music above all. “The guru,” he explained, in his pupil’s first-ever encounter with that word, “passes along not just the technique but the whole spiritual aspect, the meaning of life, philosophy, everything.”

George’s last experience of God had been the stringent single Deity of his early Catholic upbringing. In comparison, the multiplicity of gods invoked by sitar music seemed easygoing, even comforting. “I couldn’t even say the word ‘God,’ it embarrassed me,” he would recall. “But, it was so strange, [when I said it with Ravi] it washed away all those fears and doubts and little things that hang you up.”

While I’ve only seen these precise words in recent weeks, I have in the past indeed read similar sentiments from Harrison’s perspective, and they stayed with me. But that was after I first heard “Within You, Without You,” and it only furthered my intrigue of this incredible songwriter and musician whose words and musical arrangement settled into my very young experience. Unlike the other song that vied for my attention at the time, though, this one spoke of a sort of unity. “We were talking about the space between us all,” it began, and continued later in the song ~

When you see beyond yourself
Then you may find peace of mind is waiting there
And the time will come when you see we’re all one
And life flows on within you and without you.

~ and I understood immediately that healing division required love and the willingness of us all to move beyond ourselves to achieve it. There was life and love within us, but also without us, and we had to bring the two together, requiring a unification of energy. Of course, these are my words now; it’s highly unlikely I would have utilized them then (though you never know; I did speak of such things), but I understood it on an instinctive level.

I appreciated the theme that required a seeing beyond yourself rather than merely taking care of what makes oneself happy. The words also operated in the manner I loved so much, by employing another level of meaning, “without you” referring not only to an absence of you (me), but also what exists external to each of us.

That was a gift to me from George, despite the reality of my young age and that he didn’t even know I existed. As I grew up, I saw how he had lived (and lived) that out: his Material World Foundation supports numerous charities and he himself advocated and aided a number of causes, including aid to Romanian orphans and children caught in humanitarian disasters; human rights with a focus against slavery and human trafficking; lupus research; cancer support; Doctors without Borders, and more. No list of George Harrison’s advocacy would be complete without the granddaddy of them all: the first ever multi-artist benefit concert, the Concert for Bangladesh, supporting the war-torn country in its quest to seek independence from Pakistan and its army’s genocidal attacks and relief from severe flooding, all of which resulted in a wave of refugees over the Indian border. Ravi Shankar, who partnered with Harrison for the event, hoped to raise US $25,000 ($190,000 – 2024); receipts came in at US $243,418.50 ($1,849,976.80 – 2024). While even $1 million today is not considered a large sum, we should remember that this was the first of its kind, executed without the aid of internet, MTV, or digital technology for ticket sales.

Nowadays, technology has only grown Harrison’s reach and influence: “Here Comes the Sun,” which, along with “Something,” gained him worldwide recognition as a songwriter of formidable ability, is in 2024 the most streamed Beatles song. All Things Must Pass, his first solo album following the Beatles’ breakup, was a critical and commercial success, and remains the most successful “ex-Beatle” album, having been certified seven-times platinum.

But the “quiet Beatle,” as we’ve seen, was about much more than that, and it was reflected in his responses to many of the difficulties he had as a Beatle and after. “Here Comes the Sun,” one of his loveliest songs, for example, speaks of relief at the melting away of cold and oppressive winter, but also of a reprieve from what were increasingly becoming messy business affairs.

George Harrison in 1974. Image courtesy Wiki Commons. (For more info, click image.)

Sometimes his influence, too, comes quietly, as in recent months when he has been on my mind, thinking of music, or the state of the world, or a longing for God. I kept meaning to make it over to a local vinyl shop to see about All Things Must Pass, a copy of which I have never owned. I then learned about the biography released last year (referenced above); it was on my Christmas list, and I had seen a massive pile of the volumes at a local bookstore. As it turned out, I didn’t get it, so I went in January to look for it, and the shop had run out. I was disappointed but remember thinking about George saying that it doesn’t really matter what you’ve got if you are happy in your heart. And I was happy because I realized there were a lot of people in my town who might be looking for the same thing I was, even if we had lots of different perspectives.

George spoke a little of this too. “All religions are branches of one big tree. It doesn’t matter what you call Him just as long as you call.”

The “baby” of the Beatles, George passed away in 2001, but we remember him here today on what marks the 81st anniversary of his birth. His last words, spoken on his deathbed, are said to have been, “Everything else can wait, but the search for God cannot wait, and love one another.”

Early Saturday morning, I woke, restless, and decided just to get up and have some breakfast. I remembered I had a couple of packages in the mail, so after I finished, I drove through our latest snowstorm for them. It was very quiet on the roads and so peaceful and pretty. On the way home, I thought, “Oh, I should go scoop up a donut for Turtle; it’s a nice Saturday morning for one.” So, I trekked in that direction and then came home at last. After donut and some tea, I opened my package to find it was a copy of All Things Must Pass.

Thank you so, so much to my dear friend in the Lower 48 for thinking of me, you are just smashing.

And thank you so much, George, for the beautiful birthday present. It will bring me so much more than you know. Or maybe you do.

Image courtesy Wiki Commons. (For more info, click image.)

Padded Out: I’m All Set for a Weekend of Reading in My New Room

A few books on my bed, within easy reach. They all look so good!

It’s the weekend. Well, it’s actually Thursday evening as I type, but tomorrow is a holiday, Veterans’ Day, when we set aside a time to celebrate U.S. military veterans. Before we get started, I’d like to shout out a huge thanks for all those vets out there, who sacrificed comfort and security, higher paychecks, neighborhoods of familiar faces, and so much more to serve and protect us. I am so grateful you chose to do this, and I will never forget you. God bless.

Especially as it is Veterans’ Day tomorrow, I’m hoping this weekend will be at least a bit of a contemplative one. Partly this is because I’ve been craving a good sit down in which I can write out a few thoughts, maybe do a little sketching, and let my mind take me where it goes. There also is the reality that I can feel something coming on – congestion, lots of sneezing, slightly headache-y – and I really want to rest my body; I mean a serious rest, not just a late lie and call it good. The last few weeks have been fatiguing ones in which I haven’t been getting adequate rest and on and on, you know how it goes. I need to get back on track.

Lovely magazines for browsing, reading, coloring, thinking…The image on far right is my favorite in the whole coloring book, and I hope to work on it this weekend. The middle open pages within Bella Grace provoke thought. On left, a few magazines strewn in front of me, including Daphne’s Diary, a longtime favorite.

The timing is also good because this week I shifted into a different bedroom. Turtle did all the heavy lifting, and in my new room I’m handling all the putting away of my belongings. Because it’s smaller, it forces me to be more thoughtful about where everything will live, at least if I want an orderly space, and even downsizing has come into play. I’m not completely finished, but the majority is put away or in place, and I’m really enjoying the resulting coziness, a feel the other room simply didn’t offer. It could just be I’m a person who not only can function in a smaller space, but also needs this. I don’t know that to be true, just something that came to mind.

I’ve seen a lot of BookTubers using a “TBR cart,” a little trolley-like cart they keep anticipated books on. For the weekend, this small shelf holds my TBRs.

So, when I came home this evening, I continued to work on my room, mainly what Turtle and I call “padding out,” a phrase we use that rose from the concept of someone living in a nice pad. While the etymology of the word, as I found, is a tad checkered, nowadays it tends to refer to home, especially if it’s a cozy little spot. As a child, he loved that cozy little spot on, for example, the sofa when he was ill. I would lay him down with a cuddly blanket, beverage, coloring and puzzle books, a few books and movies, his favorite soft toy and pillow dabbed with lavender oil – the works. Sometimes we would have an “in” day, or in winter he wanted to cozy up for the evening, and he would say he was “padding out” the sofa or his room.

This weekend it’s my turn to do this. I’m padding out my room and have brought in:

• A stack of Blu Rays (including Pride and Prejudice and my go-to sickbed movie, Casablanca)
• A largish selection of books, tabbing supply included
• Coloring books and colored pencils (the latter in a Lion King pencil case! – Turtle and I went to see it when the musical came to our town)
• My fancy magazines – so beautiful to look at
• My journal and habitual purple pen
• A card I’m hoping to stuff with a letter to my friend in Germany
• My postcard collection, which includes several cards I found inside a gift-shop book from the home of the Brontë sisters
• Tissues, lip balm, lavender, lavender hand sanitizer, tall container of water and periodic snacks and tea (Currently: tea and toast, as I call it, though it’s actually tea and onion bagel – not the best to eat at midnight, but here we are: grapes and the tea is chamomile)
• Piles of lovely heavy bedding, including a hand-made quilt, and loads of pillows
• Candles lit in various areas of the room, and white fairy lights lining the areas where the walls meet the ceiling
• My crafting supplies are now stored in a cabinet over in a corner of the room, so I have easy access to my stamps and pads and other items
• My super comfy, warm and cuddly chenille pulli

As I think about tomorrow ahead of me, I’m a little excited. Weekends are typically so busy for me, but this time, as far as chores and tasks, it’s going to be the bare minimum. Periodically, however, I know I’ll be tired of the sickbed, so I’ll get up to stretch my legs, maybe do a quickie load of laundry, wash the bathroom sink, put the recycling or donations in the car – it just depends what I see and what activity catches my attention and that I feel like doing! I also will probably go for a walk at least once each day. There isn’t a ton of ice yet (just lots of snow), so the slippery sidewalks aren’t yet an issue.

My mind also strays to how lucky I know I am to be able to do this, to just decide that for one weekend I will do what I want. As hectic and chaotic as life often becomes, I remember there still are places in this world of ours where people’s lives are so regulated and tyrannial, paranoid rulers dictate what people can read, watch, or listen to. Can you imagine being a law-abiding person arrested for reading a novel set abroad, watching a romantic comedy, or writing poetry? Frankly, I can’t, but I know it happens, which swells my gratitude because the veterans I spoke of earlier are a very large reason why these sorts of laws are not ours, and they keep such oppression from our shores by being willing to serve.

So, I’ve got a ton of nice books and movies to entertain myself. Of course, I won’t be able to read or watch them all, but it’s fun to have a fresh selection and wide array to choose from. I may pick one and stick with it, or perhaps I’ll browse through a few. It just depends on what I feel like doing! It’s the weekend, and here we go. Happy Veterans’ Day!

 

 

 

 

Books and a few films too! As I type, I’m watching The Devil Wears Prada.

A Novel Exploration: Alys Clare’s A Dark Night Hidden and the Characters Within

About the book:

Josse D’Acquin and the Abbess Helewise are appalled by the fanatical new priest, Father Micah, but are even more horrified when his body turns up by the side of the road. And when it appears that a band of evangelical heretics, whom Micah condemned to the stake, might be behind his death, the Abbess is torn between her compassion for their suffering and her duty to the church. When Josse realizes that his desire to save the heretics cannot be condoned by Helewise, he is forced to act against her wishes, risking the greatest friendship he has. For the Abbess, her friendship with Josse is deepening the longer he stays at the abbey, as is her awareness of his attractions as a man.

 Today we briefly explore a few thoughts I’m having while reading Alys Clare’s A Dark Night Hidden. Having read through my draft, I’ll easily admit it’s a bit unorganized, but for my purposes here, I’m all right with this. The following not intended to be a book review, it could be read with contemplations, considerations, the turning of thoughts in mind. That’s actually the more important part, rather than ensuring perfectly structured paragraphs and the like. (As if I capture that all the time anyway, right?!) It’s also just a start and not meant to be an exhaustive catalogue of anything that could be written about the topic.

It’s raining today, which is actually the way I like it. I don’t really enjoy getting rained on, but I like watching it, eating, reading or watching a movie near it; I even like walking in it if I’m covered properly. So, it was extra lovely this Saturday morning when I woke up super early for an errand – something I don’t normally do at the weekend – because it added to that special composition of the early morning, even ours in which actual daybreak arrives very late. The world is quiet, still, there is a magical sensation in the air, though it is very subtle and wonderful. If you sit still, put down what you are holding, relax your body and mind, and then just sort of look into the air around you, or more precisely allow yourself to feel it, it often comes to you more, this magic hovering all around. You might even be able to sense others not far off, though on the other side of the veil. Or perhaps you might sense the freshness or comfort of an early-morning day that once dawned centuries before you were born.

In this manner I sat for a few moments this morning before I was beckoned back to the book I was currently reading, which itself, like so many others, also contains a special sort of wizardry. It’s A Dark Night Hidden, sixth in the Hawkenlye mystery series in which Josse d’Acquin, friend to Abbess Helewise and Hawkenlye Abbey – whose patron is Queen Eleanor herself – which she oversees, an institution unlucky enough to be associated with a fair number of murders. It is a rather popular destination for pilgrims, however, so it does make sense that they might have a lot of traffic. And of course, the more people, the higher the likelihood of most any given occurrence.

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If a maid lacks a lover,

She lacks also all joys; 

She keeps in her heart

A dark night hidden.

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The book actually starts off with intrigue by way of its prologue, but the shift to its opening scene, what I refer to as “after the credits” (this would make a delicious television series), moves forward a little bit slowly. Having gotten this far in the series and developed a relationship with Josse and Helewise, I wasn’t tempted to put it down; I knew it would pick up. Indeed, it did and not long after my morning reading began. My heart and mind raced as I frantically read as quickly as I could, thinking I knew what might happen and rushing to see if it does. Then I had to put the book down for the second part of my early-morning errand (tires are switched; car ready to collect!) – a devastating standstill to my day!

But for those moments I was up in the hideaway with the fugitives from terror. I contemplated, as I do whenever I read one of Alys Clare’s Hawkenlye installments, something that always seems to reach out as some form of commentary on our own times, or if not commentary, an invitation to serious introspection about the kind of people we are. What kind of people do we think we are? I wonder what Josse would think about us, what he would think about what we think of us? “I am just a fictional character,” he might begin, “but there is no difficulty in noting the gap between your claim to being more ‘civilized’ than we here in our middling ages, as we hear you call them, and the horrors you not only continue to have, but also tolerate.”

In my mind I looked at the three people I shared the hideaway with. What was about to happen – I knew it would, although because I have not returned to the story, I am yet to encounter the possible flaws in my prediction, though I fear them. The thing about this series is that, while it doesn’t contain gratuitous violence, the author also presents events that most likely really did occur in the time, and certainly continue to do today. Her characters make statements of faith or personal belief or outlandish and outrageous declarations, and those perceptions are written so skillfully as to present themselves to readers as truly thoughtful considerations, but without the irritable sensation I feel from many other authors, who can’t seem to keep their personal (and often extraneous and hateful) politics out of otherwise good stories. You never know whether any of this commentary acts as extension of Clare’s own opinions, or they belong solely to the characters – exactly as it should be. Josse is his own man, Helewise her own woman, and the author lets them be them without interfering in their business.

I’ll be totally honest: some books I read for pure entertainment, and others…well, perhaps they start out as entertainment, or maybe I choose them because I long to see what a particular place or time is like, how the people operate and so on. Some would say that’s asking for trouble, and they may be right because look where I am now. Carrying on about a book that has me in its grips, that I desperately want to read, all while delaying by writing a blog entry and putting it off. I’m around fifty pages from finishing. More honesty: I’m a little afraid. I only partly have some sort of “relationship” with one of the three in hiding, and even that one is by association. But the other two: it’s the humanity that strikes me in the heart.

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See my review of Alys Clare’s Fortune Like the Moon, first in the Hawkenlye series.

The Week That Was: Goings On About Town (And Sometimes in My House)

Winter is coming, which tends to be a lovely time of year for me. Sure, when we’re still only about halfway through I do my share of griping, but at least I head into it with a positive attitude! Generally, I wipe down my entire house, do a lot of cooking and freezing, and work out what kinds of things to do in the winter months, during which we spend more time indoors. To me, these are all pleasant pursuits.

Earlier this year – April, to be precise.

This year we feel this time of year a bit more because it’s been raining nearly non-stop for weeks now, though I confess I don’t hate the rain at all. It’s perfect for cozying up with a book or a movie, shared with someone you adore. This is linked to another great reason now is pretty lovely, and that is because my Turtle has returned from some work that had him away from home. I really missed that little critter, and the house just feels so much more fulfilled with him back.

Screenshot of a late-night game.

While he was gone, we texted our share and one of the things he convinced me to do is try Wordle. While I enjoy word games, I don’t really have a lot of spare time lying around, so I never had aims to do each day’s puzzle. I did do three of them so far, though, and was pleased to get away with not using up all my lines. I found myself getting hung up on a couple of particular words, including Witan and biped. I suppose I can see where the former would come from, since I read a decent amount of Anglo-Saxon themed material, but biped?  There was another word I used, but forgot to make a picture of the screen, possibly out of shame for adding a word with not a single of the two letters I knew the mystery word contained!

Wednesday was absolutely gorgeous. I went for a ride, knowing I might not get the chance again, and wowie did my legs pain afterward. It was that nice kind of sore, the sort that gives you a feeling of accomplishment and feels so wonderful when you stretch out, slowly but fully, knowing you’ll get a great night’s sleep. My plan was to hang out by the water for a bit once I reached Taku Lake, and I did indeed do this for some time. However, I’d forgotten that part of my plan also was to catch a new video from a BookTuber I’ve been watching – it would be my reward for getting out there. By the time I remembered, a bit of a chill was setting in, and sitting still made me kind of cold. So, I walked the bike through the forest a bit – a spot of nostalgia for the favored area for hammocking – and then headed home.

A great spot for hammocking, right next to the gurgling of Campbell Creek.

And now it is the weekend at last! Since I often work on the weekends, I have taken to making Friday evenings all mine, mine to do with what I may: read, watch a Blu Ray, go book shopping, be lazy, think, what have you. This evening I pounded the pavement – well, on a treadmill. I can’t decide if I prefer the stationary bike or treadmill; both have their pros and cons. Typically I dislike stationary bikes because I find them boring, and it’s next to impossible for me to read on either. However, I have found that music makes it all go quicker – even faster than watching an episode or a video. If I look away and vow not to peek at the time register for the length of a song, quite a lot of time passes, and you don’t even know it till it’s gone. Lately I’ve been listening to Peter Gabriel, then switch to John Barleycorn Must Die for the weights. I’m working on my arms these days, which have never been as strong as my legs, and “Stranger to Himself” kind of pumps up my will to push through when I’m getting toward the end of a set and straining. It’s not that the lyrics are inspirational; they’re rather dark in fact. But there is a definite edge to the music that awakens a sort of beastly determination within, which I really need because I know it’s going to take a long time for me to make advances with this particular exercise. Only Turtle knows the teensy amount of weight I can lift. Well, and anyone else there who happens to look, but the reality is that no one there cares – that is, in the sense that they’ve all got their own deal to work on. Some are really advanced, and some aren’t, and everyone seems to just accept that this is what it is.

My reward today was a trip to the bookstore, though I told myself this was a scouting mission only. I do set limits for myself when I go book shopping, even given that I often buy used (including 25¢ hardbacks!), and I’m pretty good at staying within them. Still, when I think of all the books I’ve purchased, the guilt sets in. There’s a parent kind of voice that acts as if I’ve paid $17 for each book, and I know I didn’t, but I can’t shake it. So, I went through a pile of books to see which ones interest me the most, you know, like in case I get a job at the bookstore or something. Can you imagine? I’d probably spend all my wages on books.

But isn’t reading my guilty pleasures what I want to do all winter anyway?

These are the books I selected, from a much larger pile, that I would start with.

Winter is Coming: But First, Let Us Have Fall

Depending upon when October’s full moon occurs, the Harvest Moon would belong to that month and September’s called the Corn Moon. In 2022, September 10 is the Harvest Moon.

People are talking a lot about winter this year, and perhaps it all seems amped up because while everything is already super expensive (and prices don’t seem to have peaked), there also is a fair amount of chatter about shortages that may occur. Sometimes I have the “I don’t want to hear about it” inclination, but the reality is, as adults, we have to deal with what comes our way as we try to right the gigantic mess our nation currently is in.

Having said that, I do want to add that, while the doom and gloom may inform how we prepare for winter, we are not there yet, and we can still try to enjoy the fall, which has not even officially arrived. (That would be September 22 for the Northern Hemisphere.) At least some (maybe many?) ways to do this involve simple moments, and maintaining awareness so we can take advantage of them can make a big difference.

For example, when I woke up yesterday, I thought immediately of a book title, The Comforts of a Muddy Saturday. I have read the book, but it has been so long that I no longer recall the passage that brings the title to bear on the ongoing storyline.* My own personal enjoyment of the mud might be a bit limited but, still, I could see where comfort might come in. Suppose it is Saturday and you’re off to the Three Barons Fair, or antiquing, or maybe flea marketing. It’s raining and you’ve taken refuge under your scoop umbrella (that’s what I call mine, with its large bubbly cover that descends downward, as opposed to just a flat piece of plastic stretched out over a stick; I don’t know the actual nickname), or perhaps in one of those temporarily erected eateries as the rain comes pouring down around you. Even if you’ve had to step gingerly through a bit of mud to get there, you are now warm and protected, and the prospect of a hot snack fills you with happiness and a sense of well-being. Or you may have continued wandering around under your scoop, checking out a tent that attracted your attention, chatting amiably with its proprietor as the raindrops beat against the canvas outside. Casual conversation turns more friendly and the smell of coffee^† soothes your soul. And you savor the moment no matter where you are because it is Saturday and it has been a long week, so you fell asleep kind of early last night. You’re well rested and know that you can just forget about work for a little while – for the whole of the day! You inhale deeply, breathing in the reality that the day is yours; there is no rush and you can sit back and let your body relax for the time being.

My recent book haul (Part I) ~ click image for more info

My personal feel-good activity on a rainy/muddy Saturday is wandering a bookstore. I have loved books with a passion since childhood, but didn’t really get to buy very many then, so perhaps I’m making up for it now? Or I might just have turned out this way no matter what! In any case, walking from the car to the store is wonderful: the rain outside your scoop is torrential, but in just a very short moment you will be inside and near books. Lots of books. You can rub your palms across the lovely matte finishing, smell them if the fore edges don’t require cracking (or even if they do!), or pile a few you’ve picked out and admire with your eyes as well as every sense in your being the look and feel of them in your hands. I even love the sound of someone tapping on a book cover as they talk about it.

This is what I thought about when I woke up: the comforts of a muddy Saturday. Book shopping. Book haul. Then a lovely snack or meal to fortify myself for the upcoming task of re-arranging books on their shelves. Truth be told, I don’t always have to do this, or at least the requirement to move things around a bit is often very minimal. This time, though, I knew it was coming, and I decided I would put the small shelf from my room – that I’d been using as a night table – back to the living room. No matter; I enjoy the process. It enables me to commune with my books, gaze upon them and think about their stories or, for ones I’ve not yet read, contemplate if any given one needs to go to the top of my TBR.

What about the food? you might ask. Did you eat anything? The answer to that is yes, absolutely, and I’ll tell you about it here. It’s really quite a quick and simple guacamole recipe and involves items most probably already have in their kitchens, with the exception of one – avocado – though that is easily remedied. I am happy to report that the warehouse price on avis has mercifully lowered back down a bit – it went from its normal sticker of $7.99 for a bag of six (I think that many?) all the way up to $14 + change. Now it hovers somewhere near $9.00 and I have started to breathe again.

 

All you need is this:

• ½ avi
• Fat edge sliced off a tomato
• Large strip peeled off an onion
• Garlic clove
• Dash of cilantro (I didn’t have any, so substituted dill weed)
• ½ teaspoon lime or lemon juice (I didn’t add any; see why below)
• Dash of salt and another of pepper

This is an approximation of this recipe for one serving, because I only wanted to use half of an avi. Also, I often just eyeball amounts, especially when I’m cutting a recipe in half or more. Which reminds me, before I continue, a few background items:

• I save empties from items such as cottage cheese and joghurt, because I cook a lot in bulk and utilize them for freezing single-serving sizes. They occasionally get mixed up in the drawer because space demands I store caps together and stack containers, but for the most part it all comes out just fine. When I find I have accumulated too many, I simply donate or give them away.
• I want to be able to save the gigantic avi pits for other uses (more to come), but don’t want to fire up the oven or go to other larger efforts for one pit. However, leaving them out, even after washed, begins to attract bugs, which I really can’t stand. Most people dislike them, I suppose, but I also inherited from my mother a bit of a hyper dislike, especially when it comes to them hovering around food or food-prep surfaces. So I began to pop them (the pits, not the bugs!) into those containers, and same for the peels (more on my usage also to follow), in separate containers that I label with masking tape and Sharpie.
• I keep a roll of tape and a Sharpie in a drawer in my kitchen, as I label lots of things.
• I used to eat an entire avi in one dish but have begun to split it up. Partly this is because one is kind of a lot, but I also learned that the fats in an avocado, even though they are the “good” fats, are quite a lot. This article bears an unfortunate and frankly, stupid, title, but does a good job explaining why you should not go “avo-board” on the fruit. There also are quite a few links within, but the ones I went to are quite informative, so you might also find them helpful.
• Another good reason to cut down pertains to, as mentioned above, the cost. Avis are expensive in good times; but now…even with the lowering closer to a normal warehouse price, I wouldn’t be surprised if they shot back up. Eating half at a time can stretch your supply of avis and, subsequently, your money.
• The first time I cut in with the intention to save half, I was rooting around for something to put the half with the pit still in and came across one of those empties, though I couldn’t find its lid. There was some clear one there (?), but it fit and that’s all I cared about. However, the next time I went into the fridge I realized I could kind of keep tabs on the state of the remaining avi half, in case it started to brown (even though I had sprinkled it with lemon juice), plus I wouldn’t forget about it.
• It was morning when I made the cut and the following day, rather late in the evening, when I ate the other half. So the avi stayed good for me for over a full day. It may last longer; I don’t know. But you can use this as a gauge for how often you eat an avocado. You can experiment a bit (I think I will) to see how much longer it will last and determine your time remaining before being committed to the other half. Or you can just split it with someone else from the get go!

Back to the recipe!

 

 

 

 

 

The handle is the little turned thingie in the middle picture; when you pull it out on its “string,” it rotates the blade seen in third image. The blade is extremely sharp and I’ve cut myself on it twice. It can be removed from the unit to be washed. The set also includes a cap so you can leave what you’ve just mixed in the bowl and take along with, put it in the fridge, etc. 

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After removing the bread from the oven, let it cool a bit, then flip upside down. The bottom is a bit harder, so it won’t smush your loaf down when you push the knife in. Learned from CrazyRussianHacker, click image to see his channel

So I used the leftover avi half, plus the lemon juice already in the bowl with it, and same for tomato, which was left over from sandwich making the day before, and a piece of onion I tore off one I’d begun to use. (You can decide how much you want also, of course.) The tomato, onion and garlic clove I shredded up in this wonderful little gizmo my mom gifted me (see image above) that has really increased my cooking pleasure because I don’t always love chopping (though sometimes it is kind of meditative). The avi, dill weed, lemon juice (from the container the avi’d been stored in), salt and pepper I added to one wide bowl and smushed it up with a potato masher. Then I added the shredded ingredients to my bowl and mixed with a spoon and taaaa daaa! My concoction is a bit chunky, but one could also pulse it in a Vita Mix (though sort of large for this small undertaking) or perhaps a Nutri Bullet. This latter item is not meant to have hot food or beverages in it, but I think this would be ok? (I’ll have to check.) We just got one, so I’m not entirely sure about all its uses. In any case, I’ve seen guacamole very smooth before, but it often doesn’t look nearly as appetizing because it’s a plain green. I really loved the colorful look of mine and when I tasted (don’t forget to taste before serving!), it was marrrrrrvelous. I also didn’t refrigerate mine, but only because I wanted to eat it straight away and also I don’t prefer some items to be cold when eating, but of course you could do it how you like.

I put some lovely crusty bread on the side and ate along with a cup of tea, and oh my word, it was magical! You know what else it was? Very comforting. It went so well with the area, surrounded by books as it was, and the day. A muddy Saturday, not quite fall, but with a fall feeling. Well, where I live fall makes its presence known a bit before September 22, and the chill in the air making a pulli somewhat of a necessity was so comforting and cozy, and the rain hitting the roof so relaxing. It all came together and felt very much like a fall day.

As an added note, in one thrift shop (where I went for some books – more also to come!) I came across these sweet little jars that are currently soaking in a bath of water and vinegar, and when completely rinsed and dried will store spices. And that reminds me that this is the first time I used my dill weed, which came with a spinning spice rack I had and decided I no longer wanted. But I needed just a few more bit-and-bob jars, as I call my collection of various sizes and sometimes colors, so I could empty out the last of the jars that came with the rack, in order to give it away. These were jars of herbs and spices I didn’t use and at one point put out a request for uses of these items. I received at least one fantastic idea from a friend who herself, a talented cook, baker, and food storer, is currently in the midst of her winter food prep – a process that itself is another reason I love the feel of fall. Sure, the sense of relief as we begin to see our food stores accumulate is part of it, but that’s just the brain part. The heart comes into play as we go through cabinets, plan, prepare, store, and see the goodnesses in store for our families. I’ve always said that a delicious meal is an act of love, and love keeps us warm in winter too. In preparing for the season and enjoying the fruits and labor of fall, that is the biggest difference of all.

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*That shall be remedied soon, I hope, as I have begun to re-read the entire series.

^† I actually dislike coffee – the smell and its taste, but I know it gives lots of peeps the warm fuzzies, so we’ll roll with it. Plus, I find coffee memes funny, so I don’t mind giving coffee a bit of love.

All photos, except book cover image, by and courtesy Lisl Madeleine, ©2022. This includes the top photo of “Autumn” poster from the “Seasonal Moons” collection in Project Calm Magazine, WLC32 #5, 2017. 

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Browsing Books: Book Haul Edition (Part I of II)

Not too long ago I came across BookTuber Haley Pham, whose enthusiasm for her reading made me sit up a little straighter, sort of pulled me away from a slump I’ve been working on leaving behind. In the first couple of videos I watched, she tended to talk about romance novels, which I’m not terrifically interested in, but I really liked her energy and the relationship she has with her collection. Without any sort of lecturing, she talked about swapping phone time for reading, her desire to read new genres outside of her comfort zone, and different types of journaling. These clips and the video in which she excitedly gets to put her books on a new shelf, arranging, talking about her experiences with the stories and so on – they all awakened something in me and I decided I’d have a perusal around a book store, something I hadn’t done in quite a while.

Specifically, I wanted to look for a new blank book because I decided I wanted to record my books there, not just online. My idea was to record the basic info about each book – title, author, etc. – and a few words regarding my reading experience.  I’ll write more about this and other angles in an upcoming blog, but for now I’d like to show you the haul I came away with – for of course I ended up with more than just one blank book!  How could it be any other way!?

A Promise of Ankles by Alexander McCall Smith – The 2020 installment for McCall Smith’s 44 Scotland Street series, Ankles’ quirky title is yet one more in the author’s collection of catchy designations. Equally intriguing are the inhabitants of the series title’s Edinburgh address, including Bruce, a self-satisfied surveyor who finds a roommate in Pat, a second-gap-year twenty year old; their neighbor, the widow Domenica; five-year-old Bertie and his insufferable mother and long-suffering father. I can only imagine the title has something to do with Cyril, personable canine companion to Angus Lordie, and a slight obsession with the ankles sometimes associated with the disembodied voices he hears from underneath the table. As a long-time fan of the prolific Alexander McCall Smith, I’m at a happy place in my McCall Smith collection because I’ve fallen a bit behind, which means I have a number of books to read ahead of me. Now I just need to decide: do I start one of his many series over (which I plan to do anyway) or read the new book I’ve just purchased first?

Present Concerns: Journalistic Essays by C.S. Lewis – This one is inspired by Haley Pham’s reading recommendations, though I’d also been carrying an interest in reading Lewis for quite some time. However, when faced with his row of books in the store, I really had no idea which one to choose. Having tried, and failed, to read Lewis on at least one previous occasion – and we are talking non-Narnia here – I went with the slimmest volume and the one that seemed most digestible, because I really wish to succeed this time. Plus the teal color on the cover, which is my favorite. It is notable that much of what the author writes about, in this compilation of articles stretching from the early 1940s to 1962, is very relevant today, such as the fate of the English language; threats to education; living in an atomic universe; and literary censorship. That these issues still persist even after all this time is a little alarming, actually, though I have heard several people say that reading Lewis is very “comforting,” so between this and an online course on the academic and lay theologian I signed up for, I decided just to move forward and take it from there.

The Logic of Alice: Clear Thinking in Wonderland by Bernard M. Patten – The first thoughts that came to my mind upon seeing this book cover were, “Perfect, given as we are currently living in the looking glass presently!” and “I wonder if this author is related to Marguerite Patten?” I’ve seen enough of the book’s innards during a flip through to know I must read it, and had to make myself content to wait and see if I find an answer to my second question within the pages. Sometimes books such as these serve up small bits of autobiographical material, so for now the answer is, “We’ll see.” So what is this book about? Well, without having read it yet, my brief and hopefully not short-shifted explanation is thus: Logic provides a walk-through of Alice in Wonderland, using key episodes in Lewis Carroll’s masterpiece as analyses on thinking and expanding our intellectual and other horizons. Three section headers that sealed the deal: “A (Dismissive) Word About Freud and Freudians,” “Neglect of Evidence is Wrong/Conclusions Contrary to Fact Are Always Wrong,” and “Emotions Often Dictate Our Thinking on Critical Issues.” And then, because I really want to say curiouser and curiouser: “Aristotle Was Wrong.” Stay tuned.

For an interactive look at the book and description, including its beautiful golden edging, click the image!

Persian Grove Journal: This blank book’s cover reproduces a 16^th-century binding of mystical Persian poetry, featuring lacquer painting with gold and pearl dust. – As some readers probably know by now, I’m intrigued by and attracted to things Persian: history, food, art, literature, even their modern culture. And so, while certainly not an expert, I have immersed myself in it at least enough to be able to recognize Persian art on occasion, as I did when I first laid eyes on this beautiful book. And since I was engaged in a search for the perfect blank book to house my reading journal, I knew my search had ended. The journal is to be for 2023, so I do have a bit of time (thankfully) to plan it out and, as mentioned above, some chit chat about that will be forthcoming. I do know some of what I want and don’t want, though I suspect there also a little of both that I don’t know. So, I’m perusing videos of other people’s reading and book journals to get more ideas on how to set mine up, angles to consider and so on – at least a portion of the and so on being that I also just like to watch flip throughs because taking in the beauty of people’s creations is satisfying in so many ways.

Beast by Paul Kingsnorth – I now understand a bit better why Haley Pham spends money on books she then says of, “I have no idea what this is about.” At time of purchase I had not an inkling of this novel’s plot; still, it said Paul Kingsnorth, so I knew I was taking that baby home. Kingsnorth is the author of The Wake, a book written entirely in a close approximation of Old English (aka Anglo-Saxon), one I’ve struggled to read but remain determined to complete. Also, I subscribe to the author’s Substack and greatly admire his measured and thoughtful approach to any topic he picks up on, and that he isn’t afraid to consider other people’s points of view. Here, Edward Buckmaster, wanders a West Country moor (that alone gripped me) as he simultaneously battles a creature that becomes an obsession. Between the blurb and a flip through, where I saw sentence fragments and strange passages, it reminded me a little of Italo Calvino’s If On a Winter’s Night a Traveler, which, to be honest, I read all of about three pages of because, despite the rave recommendation of a Swiss friend, I simply couldn’t get into it. Having said that, I hasten to add that I was not as careful or thoughtful a reader as I hope I am today, and I also didn’t have the dedication – for lack of a better word – to Calvino that I seem to feel for Kingsnorth’s work. And the cover, I can’t go away without a word about Beast’s simply and simplistically beautiful cover. I may be able to better describe it after reading the book, but the font, in words splayed out across lines, carelessly (but with precision, you know?) meandering from one to the next, they speak to me as somehow reflective of the content, particularly the small dot in place of the capital A’s crossbar, the bars on the T, and what…what is that pair of fs in the lower right corner? Simplistically, I had called it, while really there is nothing simple about it.

Why can’t I get paid to read?

The Bookshop of Yesterdays by Amy Meyerson – I confess I prefer the cover of Diane Setterfield’s The Thirteenth Tale, which Meyerson’s cover reminds me of, but still it caught my attention enough for me to pick it up and read the blurb. And let’s face it, a pile of books is nearly always a beautiful sight. Miranda Brooks may or may not see the nearing-bankruptcy book shop that her uncle wills to her as a beautiful sight, and she also finds a scavenger hunt he left behind, the solution to which brings her closer to unwrapping a family secret that her mother never meant to be revealed. “The Bookshop of Yesterdays is a love letter to reading and bookstores, and a testament to the healing power of community and how our histories shape who we become.” It’s not a huge secret that our past informs our present, but the how, and how we choose to move forward, can be an amazing journey of discovery. I haven’t read many love-letter books, and in fact the only other one that comes to mind immediately is Hanan al-Shaykh’s Beirut Blues – a work I treasure deeply. It remains to be seen whether Meyerson’s novel finds a place in my heart – admittedly, it has some stiff competition – but it came home with me, and that’s always a good sign.

Lovely purple elastic to hold closed; luscious turquoise inside front and back pages; and handy little pocket at the back for holding keepsakes, notes &tc. For interactive glimpses & info, click the image!

Sea Turtles Journal: The cover’s sea turtles swim in an undersea forest filled with flowers and starfish. This one accidentally fell down, literally right into my hands, as I was moving another, and when I saw it, I knew this too was meant to be. You see, I collect turtles in honor of my wonderful Turtle, my sweet little boy who grew to be the most wonderful young man. Still a teenager, he nevertheless looms over me, a beautiful and vibrant presence in my life. Not long ago, he persuaded me to read the first part of Plato’s Republic, which I’d initially resisted because I’d been there, done that in university and thought I wasn’t as fond of it as I probably should have been, but I’d moved on. OK, full disclosure, I really didn’t like it at all. Also full disclosure: I read it in a philosophy class I took toward the end of my four years, when burnout was setting in heavily. Reading it more recently, however, I found it to be rather accessible and intriguing. I recalled aloud to my boy about something I missed and had been thinking about in recent months: how at one time I used to grab a backpack with a couple of books, a journal and sketch pad and took off to various locations around Washington, D.C., a place often as horrible and fantastic as you can make it. It definitely has some great locations to sit, think, read, sketch (even if you’re terrible at this last endeavor), and journal, as I often did. I lamented that I didn’t really do this so much anymore and wanted to get back into it. He encouraged me to do exactly this, though my first search for a fitting journal ended with purchase of How to Be a Stoic: Using Ancient Philosophy to Live a Modern Life (Mossimo Pigliucci). A bookstore employee recommended it to me and though I’d temporarily put it down (I vow to read it), I don’t regret taking it home – of course it provides some food for thought as I get down with journaling, some of which I’ve chewed on and am eager to continue pursuing.

I hope you’ll join me for Book Haul (Part II of II) in which I discuss, naturally, the books I found, as well as the re-awakening of a story important to me; how books so often lead from one to the other, not accidentally; some new perceptions on the act of getting rid of books; sense of place; and the place of food in our reading and writing lives.

Lisl Madeleine is the author of “Episodes in the Life of King Richard III,” a short story in The Road Not Travelled: Alternative Tales of the Wars of the Roses, edited by Joanne Larner and available at Amazon and Amazon UK. She is currently attempting to muster up enough steel to publish her book of poetry and is engaged in researching and writing several works of historical fiction while trying to keep up with her reading, which includes further developing interest in Rumi, the Black Prince, and expanding her cooking repertoire.

A random past entry from the Browsing Books series you might also enjoy: In the Big City Edition. Be sure to click to subscribe (upper right) and keep up with books and other fun stuff!

Reading Roger Housden: Saved by Beauty, Adventures of an American Romantic in Iran

I no longer remember where I even heard of Roger Housden’s Saved by Beauty: Adventures of an American Romantic in Iran, just that I requested it from the library. I have enjoyed reading about Iran for years, and the title instantly grabbed my attention; before I was halfway through, I knew I would order my own copy and re-read. It is impossible to speak of Iran without including poetry, and Housden does a marvelous job of talking (not just “telling”) about Rumi, Hafez, and poetic message, weaving it within and without the people and places he visits, his, and perhaps your, understanding of the world, and those understandings of the Iranian people’s. He meets with artists, writers, filmmakers, religious scholars, whirling dervishes, explores beauty, truth, evil, and comes up close to history as well as current events.

Apart from his encounters, one thing I also appreciated about the narrative is its willingness to praise where praise is due, but be critical, questioning, or skeptical as well. He also details the closing episode of his trip, several days of captivity (cold comfort, but in a hotel, at least, not Evin) and interrogation, and his feelings of raw and utter loneliness in the world in a manner that it brutal in its poetic truthfulness. I say “poetic” not because he translates the experience into a flow of poetry, but rather because his words are neither harsh nor softly new age-y. He does not display open anger (though it was there) or bravado, and his words translate to us perhaps in a dual manner as well: we feel a sense of muted horror and peaceful acceptance. But he leaves us with overwhelmingly positive feelings about the people of Iran, the real focus. The horrible government apparatus forces its way into the story because it is impossible to talk about Iran without bringing up the government they currently live under. Poetry and tyranny.

At a later date I hope this changes, as, I’m sure, does Housden. He mourns that he cannot go back to Iran, and in my small way I can appreciate this. I would love to visit this land and come close to the history, the places, the people who grew up breathing in poets such as Rumi and Hafez, the average one of whom could recite a few lines of either one, or perhaps Ferdowsi, were you to stop them on the street to ask the time. I’m sure there are some not inclined to poetry, but there is a very strong current of survival amongst the Iranian people. They are not, after all, Arabs, and Islam is a foreign religion, even though it has conquered the nation and, centuries ago, made their own Zoroastrianism religion a minority one. But they don’t forget their culture and in this manner remind me a little bit of Americans, who consistently thwart attempts to make them like Europeans. The pathway traveled to get to this point isn’t, for Americans, the same as that of Iranians, but it does have its similarities. It is also interesting to note that Rumi is the most widely read poet in America.

It also happens that I’ve admired Rumi for years, though only recently began to look into his life a bit more deeply. I’m not very far along, but reading Housden’s account deepened my desire, what with its – well, I might say philosophical –discussions or summations, but his do not alienate the reader in the manner philosophy often does people. The reality is, indeed, very real, but he immerses us into his observations in a manner graceful and beautiful, the end result being not only that we want more, but we also wish to be a part of it.

In the chapter titled “Paradise and Poetry,” Housden journeys to Shiraz, capital of Fars Province. Above, illustration of Shiraz by French scholar Jean Chardin while traveling through the Safavid empire in the 1670s. (Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons; click for more info)

This is not an alien concept to me: as a teenager I wanted to live in a Welsh forest and, not unlike Housden’s own ambition in his twenties, “live a contemplative life of reflection.” Well, I also wanted to write poetry and practice healing, both of which come from my mother, I suppose, who was a nurse by profession and, throughout my childhood, recited Poe continuously. I wasn’t a big fan, but for years after recalled “Annabel Lee” and, naturally, “The Raven,” in their entirety. Also, my father had a history bent and I was often tasked with writing essays about events he’d discussed with me. It was from him I garnered my initial knowledge of and perhaps affinity for Iran, and surely the inclination to discuss, dig deeper.

You must be set on fire the inner sun.
You have to live your Love or else
You’ll only end in words.

For better or worse, I never made it to that forest. I know it’s unquestionably better, for I cannot imagine life without my wonderful son, who in many ways has also brought poetry and contemplation to my life and still does. Teenagers have naturally poetic souls, and Turtle has listened patiently and compassionately as I talked about Saved by Beauty, Iran, Rumi. Even more magnificently, he doesn’t just listen, as I am blessed to have a child who thrives on engagement. Asperger’s drives a bit of the nitpickiness, but it too has a dual nature, and his digging helps keep me connected to the lower layers in a world of paying bills, dentist appointments and being on time for work.

Panoramic view of Shiraz at night including moon & Jupiter conjunction, July 2005. (Image courtesy Mehdi Maleknia via Wikimedia Commons; click image for more info)

Now, before my re-read (when I can mark up the book, a practice I picked up by necessity in university and one Turtle loathes), I cannot exactly place my favorite passage or chapter, but I do recall a few dripping tears. As I recall, this portion was not necessarily one of great sorrow (or was it?), because I remember a sort of detached wonder at my emotion. Perhaps I will recognize it next time and be able to understand more of why I responded in the manner I did.

Reading not unlike a memoir, Saved by Beauty also weaves Rumi (and other poets) throughout, undoubtedly one of the work’s best elements, though by far not the only. Housden unapologetically invites us into his world, as well as one he yearned for since childhood, a culture of more than three thousand years. His perspective is truthful and sober, though not without levity, and both he and Rumi invite all into his journey. As Housden writes of Rumi’s funeral, “no one is turned away.”

Come, come, whoever you are.
Wonderer, worshipper, lover of leaving.
It doesn’t matter.
Ours is not a caravan of despair.
Come, even if you have broken your vow
a thousand times
Come, yet again, come, come.