What I've been reading of late
19 July 2010 10:30 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
3rdragon"Contemporary records are seldom without some value. I can only hope that what I have here set down in all sincerity of purpose may not be found uninteresting to a younger generation, who may care for personal reminiscences of some of those who have passed away before their time, but whose names are on the roll-call of Victorian worthies."
--Cornelia A. H. Crosse, 1892
No, Mrs. Crosse, I do not think that it was entirely uninteresting to the younger generation. I'll admit that some parts were a little dull and I skimmed them, but some were quite amusing. I particularly enjoyed this footnote on a Mr. Sedgwick and "the science that had adopted him" : "Sedgwick was made Professor of Geology because he knew nothing about it; the other candidate knew a good deal, but was all wrong in his theories."
This is my interlibrary loan book, the one that turned out to be two books, wrapped in bubble wrap, inside a box, inside the red interlibrary loan bag sealed with one of those little plastic doodahs. Did I mention that it came from the Mt. Holyoke College library? If I'd known I wanted it a few months ago, it could have been purveyed with rather less difficulty. Not that I had time to read it then.
And the cover has this lovely indented pattern worked into it. I never did learn how to do that in my bookbinding class, which is a shame. Not that I've done any bookbinding since the class finished.
I spent the first hundred or so pages of this book trying to figure out if Mrs. Crosse was name-dropping, or if she really felt that these were just terribly interesting people that posterity ought to know about. Having finished, I'm inclined to say mostly the latter. It's an odd conglomeration of anecdotes (her own and other people's), letters, fragments of poetry, and facts about people's lives. I found myself frequently encountering my old friend Whewell, and Mr. Fawcett and Mr. Huxley also appeared, as did Babbage. Mr. Faraday showed up quite a bit; she seemed rather taken with him. The entire first section was devoted (as much as anything in this rather rambling account can be said to be devoted to something) to Wordsworth and Shelley and others of their circle. It's peculiar to read about a time when "Democrat" is used rather in the same way that "Communist" might have been used a few decades ago -- perhaps "Islamic Extremist" is the current analog. I suppose there are still areas of this country where "Democrat" may mean "dangerously liberal and quite possibly trying to bring about the end of civilization as we know it," but that would be in a rather different sense of the word than she is using it, and a less wide-spread opinion than she seems to be suggesting.
What else have I been reading?
Vivian Vande Velde's Three Good Deeds was what I expected it to be: quick and enjoyable. Looking at it now, I notice that in addition to the j tag, there is a HORROR sticker on the spine, which I find a bit incongruous. Yes, the kid did get turned into a goose. But he got better!
Contrary to hope, reading Christmas stories in July does not change the fact that it is far too warm outside. But I liked Connie Willis's Miracle and other Christmas Stories anyway. She's really very good at details.
The Wolves at the Door: The True Story of America's Greatest Female Spy was not a particularly noteworthy book about an exceptionally interesting person. Although I'm still unsure about the author's decision to write her thoughts and feelings in addition to her actions; while it made it an excellent story, it seems presumptuous to assume what a real person was thinking and feeling, particularly when she's not still alive to pass judgment on it. I suppose that I frequently read things from the point of view of historical personages. But those don't pretend to be anything other than fiction. And I'm still impressed about the part where she escaped France by hiking 31 miles over the Pyranees in the snow. And then went back again, even though she knew they were looking for her. Did I mention that she had a prosthetic leg? It was named Cuthbert.
And before that I read Maggie Stiefvater's Lament. I'm not normally a fan of the Creepy Fey Boyfriend plotline. I'll read them (unlike, say, the Creepy Vampire Boyfriend), but it needs to be done very well, or I find myself wanting to shake the protagonist and say, "girl, haven't you noticed that Creepy Boyfriend is CREEPY?" And I believed this one. I could feel that Deirdre was a reasonable person and still choosing to go out with this guy. And she was hilarious. I even liked the random secondary characters.
Also The Demon's Lexicon and The Demon's Covenant. I don't want to be spoilery, so I'll just say that I enjoyed them. And that I'm kind of tempted to write a paper comparing these to the Bartimaeus Trilogy. But I've decided that that should wait until after the third one comes out.
There was some other stuff. The fourth Mercy Thompson book, for one. But that was a while ago.
--Cornelia A. H. Crosse, 1892
No, Mrs. Crosse, I do not think that it was entirely uninteresting to the younger generation. I'll admit that some parts were a little dull and I skimmed them, but some were quite amusing. I particularly enjoyed this footnote on a Mr. Sedgwick and "the science that had adopted him" : "Sedgwick was made Professor of Geology because he knew nothing about it; the other candidate knew a good deal, but was all wrong in his theories."
This is my interlibrary loan book, the one that turned out to be two books, wrapped in bubble wrap, inside a box, inside the red interlibrary loan bag sealed with one of those little plastic doodahs. Did I mention that it came from the Mt. Holyoke College library? If I'd known I wanted it a few months ago, it could have been purveyed with rather less difficulty. Not that I had time to read it then.
And the cover has this lovely indented pattern worked into it. I never did learn how to do that in my bookbinding class, which is a shame. Not that I've done any bookbinding since the class finished.
I spent the first hundred or so pages of this book trying to figure out if Mrs. Crosse was name-dropping, or if she really felt that these were just terribly interesting people that posterity ought to know about. Having finished, I'm inclined to say mostly the latter. It's an odd conglomeration of anecdotes (her own and other people's), letters, fragments of poetry, and facts about people's lives. I found myself frequently encountering my old friend Whewell, and Mr. Fawcett and Mr. Huxley also appeared, as did Babbage. Mr. Faraday showed up quite a bit; she seemed rather taken with him. The entire first section was devoted (as much as anything in this rather rambling account can be said to be devoted to something) to Wordsworth and Shelley and others of their circle. It's peculiar to read about a time when "Democrat" is used rather in the same way that "Communist" might have been used a few decades ago -- perhaps "Islamic Extremist" is the current analog. I suppose there are still areas of this country where "Democrat" may mean "dangerously liberal and quite possibly trying to bring about the end of civilization as we know it," but that would be in a rather different sense of the word than she is using it, and a less wide-spread opinion than she seems to be suggesting.
What else have I been reading?
Vivian Vande Velde's Three Good Deeds was what I expected it to be: quick and enjoyable. Looking at it now, I notice that in addition to the j tag, there is a HORROR sticker on the spine, which I find a bit incongruous. Yes, the kid did get turned into a goose. But he got better!
Contrary to hope, reading Christmas stories in July does not change the fact that it is far too warm outside. But I liked Connie Willis's Miracle and other Christmas Stories anyway. She's really very good at details.
The Wolves at the Door: The True Story of America's Greatest Female Spy was not a particularly noteworthy book about an exceptionally interesting person. Although I'm still unsure about the author's decision to write her thoughts and feelings in addition to her actions; while it made it an excellent story, it seems presumptuous to assume what a real person was thinking and feeling, particularly when she's not still alive to pass judgment on it. I suppose that I frequently read things from the point of view of historical personages. But those don't pretend to be anything other than fiction. And I'm still impressed about the part where she escaped France by hiking 31 miles over the Pyranees in the snow. And then went back again, even though she knew they were looking for her. Did I mention that she had a prosthetic leg? It was named Cuthbert.
And before that I read Maggie Stiefvater's Lament. I'm not normally a fan of the Creepy Fey Boyfriend plotline. I'll read them (unlike, say, the Creepy Vampire Boyfriend), but it needs to be done very well, or I find myself wanting to shake the protagonist and say, "girl, haven't you noticed that Creepy Boyfriend is CREEPY?" And I believed this one. I could feel that Deirdre was a reasonable person and still choosing to go out with this guy. And she was hilarious. I even liked the random secondary characters.
Also The Demon's Lexicon and The Demon's Covenant. I don't want to be spoilery, so I'll just say that I enjoyed them. And that I'm kind of tempted to write a paper comparing these to the Bartimaeus Trilogy. But I've decided that that should wait until after the third one comes out.
There was some other stuff. The fourth Mercy Thompson book, for one. But that was a while ago.
