February's Reads: I Get My Reading Groove Back

I'm back from my visa run to Japan and settled into my new place now. It's a studio apartment, built long and narrow. I put the bookshelves right across the room from the bed so I get to see my whole library when I wake up in the mornings.

Moving in Korea is great. You don't have to pack or unpack anything -- the movers do it all. They unshelved the books in Gumi, drove them to Erewhon and carried them up and reshelved them there. I had to leave one of the bookshelves behind (school property...too bad! 7 ft. 7-shelf bookcase!) so the movers were forced to leave bookpiles all over the floor of the new apartment. Lovely, but not easy to navigate.

After studying the shelf for about a day, I decided to cull out some (more) books and stack some of the taller shelves horizontally. It worked! I got everything to fit on 2 shelves. I'll post some pictures later.

The new job starts on Monday. I hope I get my faculty ID card soon because that's the Golden Ticket into my new library. This is it. How do you like that glass wedgie thing on top? It glows green at night.

Reading Roundup:

During February, I feel as if I got my groove back, reading a total of six books:

1. Country Music: The Masters - Marty Stuart. I found this one at my mom's house. A huge and heavy book full of photographs taken by Marty Stuart and others over the years. Also includes a CD, making this my first audio book in quite some time. Photos that have stayed with me include: Stringbean's home, where he and his wife were murdered, Connie Smith sitting in her car wearing a beautiful blue dress, the pages and pages of Nudie suits, Jerry Lee Lewis at the piano in Berlin with a bottle of whisky at his feet, a cheeky but tender photo of Johnny Cash grabbing June Carter's backside and of course, the stark black-and-white cover photo of Johnny Cash which turned out to be the last photo ever taken of him. His expression is otherworldly. He looks like he belongs in a daguerreotype. There were dozens of bluegrass performers. I know I was looking at some greats, but my background in this area of music is solely lacking. Marty did a great job. I hope there will be a Volume Two.

2. Fried Eggs With Chopsticks - Polly Evans. Back in 2002, Polly Evans got the idea to travel across China by train. Sometimes her journey was smooth, sometimes a little rocky. I really like Evans as a travel writer because she's not overly chipper about her experiences. If something doesn't go well, she levels with the reader, keeping it real. She's up for adventure, but not shy about admitting that she misses her creature comforts as well. My only nitpick is that she constantly writes the word "jabber" (in a manner that I took to be pejorative) to indicate when she doesn't understand the Chinese that's being spoken to her. I think she could have taken a moment to ruefully acknowledge that when she makes inquiries in English, she's jabbering as well. That was the only fault I found with Evans' book. I hope to read more about her travels. I read this for The Well-Seasoned Reader Challenge.

3. Lonesome Dove - Larry McMurtry. I first read this book back in 1986. 23 years later, I love it even better. The character who came sharply into focus for me this time was Call. I didn't remember that he had any point-of-view scenes. I remembered him mainly through Gus's and Clara's eyes. I'd also forgotten that Newt's coming-of-age plays a big part in the plot. Jake Spoon came off weak and contemptible this time. I only remembered him as a dashing rake prone to bad luck. I admired Clara as before, but this time more fully understood what challenges she had encountered on the harsh Nebraska plains. My plan is to read the rest of the Lonesome Dove quartet: Streets of Laredo, Dead Man's Walk and Comanche Moon.

4. Call It Courage - Armstrong Sperry. I wasn't planning to read this 1941 Newbery winner, but I had to cool my heels for a while in my new director's office. I hadn't brought anything to read and this was on the shelf. 15-year-old Mafatu lives on a Polynesian island, where his father is chief of a people who prize courage above all else. Twelve years before, Mafatu and his mother were caught in a hurricane. She died and Mafatu was left with an overwhelming dread of the sea. He hasn't outgrown it, so as a result, his father is ashamed of him and his peers jeer at him. Mafatu makes the decision to sail out to sea on his own. He doesn't know if he'll return or the sea god will finish him, but Mafatu is determined to face his fears. An action-packed read about a boy who is braver and more resourceful than he or anyone ever guessed. I kept thinking that Sawyer (from Lost) might like this book.

5. My Boring-Ass Life: The Uncomfortably Candid Diary of Kevin Smith - Kevin Smith. My son kept talking about this book, so I took it with me to Japan. If you don't have a stomach for raunchy, don't go near My Boring-Ass Life. Personally, I loved it, but I've always felt that under this sweet middle-aged lady exterior beats the heart of a Neanderthal-ish 8th grade boy. Writer/director Kevin Smith shares (and shares and shares) about his everyday life, sparing no detail. For about 100 pages, his entries (which first appeared on his blog) get a little monotonous, but then, on the anniversary of his father's death, he writes movingly about the wonderful evening the whole family had together before his father (Smith's inspiration for Silent Bob) went into cardiac arrest the next morning. After that, it's back to his ribald delivery about struggles with his weight and suffering an anal fissure and filming Clerks II. There's also a rather spirited and vigorous defense of nose-picking! The standout piece in the book (and also where Smith allows himself to get a little serious) is Me And My Shadow, a 9-part detailed account of Jason Mewes's (the Jay to Smith's Silent Bob) struggles with addictions to alcohol, marijuana, heroin and Oxycontin and his subsequent success in getting clean after a myriad of false starts and broken promises. I've always liked Smith's movies. After reading My Boring-Ass Life, I'm a bigger fan than ever.

6. Consider The Oyster - M.F.K. Fisher. This is a slim volume, but Fisher delivers the goods in spades. She begins by examining the life of the oyster, then moves onto the many ways that oysters can be enjoyed -- oyster stew, oyster soup, fried, right out of the shell, as stuffing for Thanksgiving turkey and a few other recipes that had my eyes and mouth watering for my mother's oyster dressing. Speaking of mothers, Fisher writes about her mother's reminiscences of eating oyster loaf during secret "midnight feasts" in boarding school during the 1890s. Culinarily haunted by her mother's memories, Fisher hunted for oyster loaf recipes like the one her mother described, but never attempted it because she didn't think the result would come close to matching the savory experience in her mind's taste buds. There's a chapter about how pearls are made, and a humorous chapter about the oyster's well-known reputation as an aphrodisiac. M.F.K. Fisher writes so beautifully and seductively. I read this for the Well-Seasoned Reader Challenge and I'm so glad I did. If this book comes across your path, grab it up.

Now that I've got my mojo going again, it's back to Middlemarch. Hopefully, I'll finish it by the middle of March.

Of Books And Bathtubs

Right now, I'm playing the waiting game -- waiting for a visa issuance number so I can travel to Japan and get my new work visa, and waiting and wondering what would be the best date to move my stuff over to Erewhon. Being in a holding pattern makes me feel too frenzied to read. Yesterday was the first day in *years* that I didn't read one word. I can't even find my Tough & Cool Inner Bookworm anymore. Baby come back?

Sunday was book group (Lonesome Dove) at high noon in Gangnam, but I got in so late Saturday evening from the US that I couldn't rally. Damn. Jet lag almost always wins. I heard that we picked up a new member named Melinda. I'm looking forward to meeting her at the March 8 (Atlas Shrugged) meeting.

On Monday, my son and I went to the U.S. Embassy in Seoul to get my (lack of) criminal record notarized. Ooops, forgot it was President's Day. I was annoyed, but not for long. After all, there's a Kyobo bookstore nearby, where I bought The Zahir by Paulo Coelho for an upcoming book group. After that, we found a hotel near the embassy, then set out to do more bookstore-hopping. As we went down in the subway at Jonggak, I gasped. Right there in front of me, glittering like jewelry, was a Bandi & Luni bookstore that I didn't know existed! Silently promising it that I *would* be back, we took off for Yongsan Station.

I had not revisited the bookstore at Yongsan Station since my son showed it to me in 2007, so I'd forgotten what a gem of a place it is. The books seem to be slightly cheaper, and the literature section had some delightfully quirky finds. To my delight, I found The Mambo Kings Play Songs Of Love, the 1990 Pulitzer fiction winner. Since the train from Erewhon goes directly to Yongsan Station, I won't let another 2 years go by till I visit again.

After a dinner of rice and octopus and assorted vegetables, we headed back to the Bandi & Luni at Jonggak. They had some Wodehouse, which I want to read, but I hesitated to buy any because I'm not sure which book to start with. Also, I saw a Sigrid Undset novel called Jenny that I had also seen at Yongsan Station. From the description, I was pretty sure I'd like it, but ended up leaving Bandi & Luni empty-handed. I started thinking about how I was going to have to move all of these books I was buying. We headed back to the hotel. Determined to appreciate the bathtub to its fullest extent, I took a hot bath for about an hour. Still smashed over the head with jet lag, I crashed at 8:30.

On Tuesday, I completed my business at the U.S. Embassy, then my son and I took the train over to Erewhon so I could meet with my new director. Discussion moved to the subject of the new apartment, and she kindly showed me some sample pictures on her computer. When she got to the bathroom, I was awestruck: A BATHTUB! I'M GOING TO HAVE MY VERY OWN BATHTUB IN MY APARTMENT! The bathtub is one of my very favorite places to read, and I've been missing that sorely during my Korea sojourn. Not only will I have a wonderful place to enjoy books, I'll be able to get back in touch with my girly side -- the walls and the fixtures are all bright pink. The whole bathroom looks like it was hosed down with Pepto-Bismol.

Today's project involves moving all the books I have in my office and bringing them over to Dorm Sweet Dorm. Can you feel my pain? Building a library is one thing. Moving it is quite another.

Sisters: Catholic Nuns And The Making of America

Sisters: Catholic Nuns And The Making of America by John J. Fialka is an interesting and engrossing look at a slice of American history that is little-known and underappreciated.

How did nuns play a part in the development of American society? How did the largest private school and hospital system get built? Answer: The "sweat equity" of young women who made a vow to serve the Catholic church. John J. Fialka's book explores how nuns were just as much a part of settling America as the cowboys and explorers who have gotten so much more attention. Fialka's discussion revolves primarily around the Sisters of Mercy, who had orders all over the United States. Their nuns were nurses on both sides in the Civil War.

Because of their determination, devotion and huge numbers, nuns were able to accomplish a great deal, but it's still a miracle. The hierarchy of the Catholic church was/is male, and they were often guilty of treating nuns as inferior underlings. Fialka also discusses how Vatican II contributed to the decline of the incredible system that the nuns created. In the last chapters, he follows nuns up to the present. Many orders are close to dying out, but some, like the Dominican Sisters in Nashville, Tennessee are thriving.

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I recommend this book without reservation. These young women created worlds that did so much good in the world at large, and John J. Fialka tells their stories with admiration and respect that is long past due.

Back With A Bulging Suitcase

Hi, book bloggers! I'm back from my trip. Lots of drama in all categories -- too much to process right now, and that's the only reason you're being spared.

Hitting the Barnes & Noble in Columbia, I was able to find quite a few additions for my Pulitzer shelf: Lonesome Dove, The Magnificent Ambersons, One of Ours, The Confessions of Nat Turner, The Optimist's Daughter and Humboldt's Gift. However, it was on the slightly gritty shelves at Trade-A-Book in Sedalia that I made my most triumphant find: The Late George Apley. I'm preaching to the choir here, but it pays to get down on your knees and dig back into rows of double-stacked books. 54 cents! Whee!

Of course I'm only human, so my booklust couldn't be restrained to all things Pulitzer. I also snatched up The Worst Hard Time, Atlas Shrugged (for March 8th's book group), The Terror, Farenheit 451 and that book by Anderson Cooper. I'm blanking on the title. There's more -- both titles and blanks in my brain.
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I almost bought an Amish cookbook. My mom bought it and I scanned it eagerly. The simple recipes, rendered in no-nonsense prose had me in blissed-out state of opticial cruise control.
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Getting back to my Pulitzer obsession, I forgot to look for The Fixer, which could have been found with ease. In August, I'll need to return to the US briefly, so there's no point in kicking myself. Building a brand-new wishlist is infinitely more fun.

Jet lag is still frying my circuits, so I need to return to the bed.