Catching Up

I've been reading a lot lately, but posting very little.

The Stand - Holy Crap I read the 1400 page version.

Around the World in 80 Days - My first foray into Jules Verne.

Napoleon's Pyramids - William Deitrich - Indiana Jones in the time of Napoleon.

Divergent - Veronica Roth - Another dystopian YA book.

I'm busy. I'm reading but feeling guilty for not writing. I will not feel complete until I write something, but there are so any good things to read it's hard to pull myself away long enough to sit and write. I'd rather be reading.

I'm still making my way through thick books on Paris and French history. This week I'm finishing up Eiffel's Tower: and the World's Fair Where Buffalo Bill Beguiled Paris, the Artists Quarreled and Thomas Edison Became A Count. It's Belle Epoque Paris mixed with Wild Bill Cody and Thomas Edison.

Four more weeks until my European Adventure. I think I will read Sense and Sensibility while I'm in Bath and absolutely nothing while I'm in Paris. I'll be too busy shopping for books to read at all.

Libraries Obsolete? Maybe

This was an awesome post on Book Riot today.

When Authors Attack Libraries:

As a librarian I am supposed to support libraries in every way... BUT this man makes a point.

Yes, the whole point of the Book Riot post was to make fun of the guy arguing against libraries, but still he does have a point. Entertainment is never free and it could very well be an out-dated way to look at books.
It really made me think. Should we support libraries at the expense of authors and publishers?

The Greater Journey

Continuing on my Paris reading blitz, I finally finished this book this week after recovering from my two week long sinus/ flu sickness.

I loved this book, but it was one of those that I had to make myself open and read. It started slowly, but then I got sucked into the stories of all the young Americans trying to make their way into the world. There were mostly profiles of artists - painters and sculptors to be exact, but there was an interesting chapter detailing young doctors training at the best medical schools in the world at the time. It was fascinating. I really learned more about French history reading this book vs. a dedicated French history book. It was French history through the eyes of Americans that were living there and writing back home about their circumstances.
The most riveting story was that of Elihu Washburne, the American Ambassador to France during the 1860's and 70's. His story about living during the siege on Paris during in 1870-1 was eye opening. I had never heard the story from that angle. The Franco-Prussian war was illuminated during that chapter.
What I found so different about out lives today is our treatment of sickness. So many Americans went to Europe "for their health". They had a chest problem, were depressed, recovering from nerves, etc. and were prescribed to head to France to better their health. Why is that not a prescription now? Is travel just no longer accepted as a way to heal the mind? Is the air in Europe not healthy any more? And why did it used to take months if not years to recover from illness? When I have a cold, or flu or bronchitis I am expected to miss maybe 1-2 days of work, and still shuffle my children all to school, gymnastics, make dinner and do laundry. In the 1800's any illness seemed to merit at least a two week rest in bed without getting up. Surely Tylenol and Penicillin aren't that good at curing maladies.
Reading that book really made me miss the way we treat sickness. Is the European vacation a treatment only for the rich? At the very least those heading to Europe to rest were middle class. It was a mind opening read on that front.
I would highly recommend reading this book. It teaches not just French history, but also American history. I never would have heard of Elihu Washburne if not for this book. I will be doing a lot more research on that guy.

Too Sick to Read

It doesn't happen often, but for reals I was too sick to read.

I like to be just sick enough to cozy up on the couch with old 80's movies and a good book, but this was not that sickness. I was even up in my bed, not even down on the couch in front of the TV, that's how sick I was. Maybe it was the flu, maybe just a bad cold with a fever. It was all the sweating and chattering teeth that made it difficult to read. I just couldn't hold a book and keep warm at the same time. So frustrating!

So now I'm back and I'm reading.

I should finish up The Greater Journey by David McCullough today or tomorrow thanks to Presidents Day.

I've got some new acquisitions to post up as well. I know it's so exciting.

The One and Only Ivan

So this is the 2013 Newbery Medal Winner. The One and Only Ivan by Katherine Applegate.

I read it, but only because I forced myself to. Every year I feel it is my duty to read the winner just so that I know what everyone is talking about and so that I can tell my teachers if it's worth it for them to add it to their curriculum for next year.

I hated this one. It's about animal abuse. Really. Not . My. Cup. Of Tea. I'm not a big fan of animal books to begin with, but abused animals is even more of a turn off. Yes it turns out happy in the end, but come on, really? Who wants to read about that? At least in Water for Elephants there was some romance involved to distract the reader from the abuse, but in this book it's relentless. I really did not care for it at all.

I know I've discussed before about the weirdness of book award winners. Some times they are right on, but most of the time it seems as if the judges of these contests are looking for the saddest, most taboo subjects and giving the awards to those books. These are not books that kids want to read. These are the books that adults make kids read because they are good for them like vegetables. I don't want books to be like vegetables for kids. I want them to read what they want to read even if it is Captain Underpants of Diary of a Wimpy Kid.

This book just didn't have anything special about it to me to merit the Newbery Award. Last year's winner, Dead End in Norvelt, was a good book, but still a vegetable book. 2011's Moon Over Manifest was brussel sprouts too. The last time I read a Newbery that I liked and that I still recommend to kids and teachers alike was 2010's When You Reach Me by Rebecca Stead. Now that is a timeless classic that deserved awards.

Of course we all have different opinions about what is a good book, but if I can't recommend it to anyone, it's not a good book. I will not be recommending this book except to my most fanatic animal book readers.

A Moveable Feast

I've read Hemingway before, and enjoyed it, but never this book. It seems like I'd been saving this one for last. I like adjectives and I miss them when they are gone. It's not as if he does't use any adjectives, he just makes you wait for them and crave them and then he uses ordinary adjectives like beautiful, great, or green. It's frustrating.
Then we all know that A Moveable Feast is supposed to be this great travelogue on Paris, but it wasn't at all. It was more of a list of people that he met and what he thought of them, than a great bit of writing about Paris. I learned new things about Getrude Stein and Scott Fitzgerald. I learned the other side of the story on Hemingway's threesome between Hadley and Pauline, that he truly was remorseful for the situation and was just caught loving two women.
Overall it's not something I would need to read again. It's Hemingway and I know what to expect from him, and I'm not sure I like it. I think he was a great man, and had a fascinating life, and has merit as a writer, but he's not my writer.
I can't stop writing about this book without pointing out an awesome term that made me laugh out loud. Hemingway is describing someone he met and doesn't like, and paints the perfect picture by referring to the man as "an unsuccessful rapist". Best insult ever in a description!

New York Women Writers

Why does it always seem that most non-fiction (non-history and non-political) books that are written by women are written by New York women?

This is really starting to bother me.

I've been reading a lot about Paris recently. Along with all the history and architecture and guide books I am also reading the lighter fluff travelogues, but all that I can find are written by white, middle aged women (in their forties) who are already writers of some sort in New York City. Isn't that a pretty narrow view of the city of Paris?  Their highfalutin ideas of what is interesting to the average Paris tourist is a little off.

Now I have nothing against well educated white women. I myself am one, but I do have something against women who live in New York. They really have no idea what goes on elsewhere in the country. I am also under the impression that they all live sorry lives like Carry Bradshaw, are extremely selfish, shallow and way to well funded.

I loved Eat, Pray, Love, but could not relate to her New York problems. She just seemed so self-centered. But then I realized that most well-educated New York women do not have kids until they are in their late thirties or early forties. They have spent so long thinking of only themselves that they don't know how to function otherwise. Having kids changes that.

Now I know you're not supposed to talk crap about the publishing industry if you ever want to get published, but I mean really, what is the deal with the New York centric writers. If the publishers want something new and fresh shouldn't they look outside of their own goldfish bowl?

I would love to see more non-fiction a-la Diablo Cody, or maybe even something more working class. What about a book about being a mom at 23? What about a travel book that isn't written by a woman going through a rough divorce and trying to start her life over?

I'm going to write what I want to read.