New Book: The Terror, by Dan Simmons

An hour past midnight. Finished the glorious Samuel Pepys biography a half hour ago.

Still craving a read that will definitively take her out of herself, she’s decided to tackle this novel, recommended by a member of self’s writing group:

Almost a mile off the starboard bow, the gigantic floating ice mountain that hides Terror’s sister ship, Erebus, from view seems for a brief, false moment to radiate colour from within, glowing from its own cold, internal fires.

— The Terror, by Dan Simmons, p. 4

The Greatest Warrior of his Generation (Achilles)

The high comedy of seeing Achilles pretend to be a dancing woman (His mother forced him, to hide him from the Greeks who were assembling an army to lay siege to Troy) is behind. The Greeks send Odysseus to find him, and find him Odysseus does.

Now, Achilles prepares for battle.

pp. 188 – 189 of The Song of Achilles:

Peleus (Achilles’s father) pays for “a small fortune in armor”: “hammered bronze breastplates . . . horsehair plumed helms, a silver-forged sword . . . and two-light-wheeled chariots. With this came a four-horse team, including the pair given to Peleus by the gods at his wedding: Xanthos and Balios . . . and their eyes rolled white with impatience whenever they were not free to run . . . ” as well as “a charioteer, a boy younger than we were, but sturdily built and said to be skilled with headstrong horses. Automedon, his name was. Finally, last of all: a long spear, ash sapling peeled of bark and polished until it glowed like gray flame. From Chiron, Peleus said, handing it to his son.”

Self was not that engaged by this novel’s beginning, but the novel has continued to chip away at her expectations and now that battle is soon to be joined (self knows Achilles will have a very heroic death, but self is very much looking forward to reading Madeline Miller’s take), she is ALL IN.

Stay tuned.

Circe, p. 128

There are herbs that grow nowhere else. They are so rare, few have been given names. I could feel them swelling in their hollows, breathing tendrils of magic into the air.

Wow. Self loves this writing. She loves the book.

Kudos, Madeline Miller.

Summer 2022: Reads

So far this summer, self has read 13 books.

Six of those were Dr. Ruth Galloway mysteries (Thank you, Elly Griffiths!)

Two were Gone novels.

One was Becky Chambers’s latest, a continuation of her Wayfarers series.

One was biography (self’s current read, Steve Jobs)

She read Where the Crawdads Sing because of the movie (which she still hasn’t seen)

Chase Andrews, WHERE THE CRAWDADS SING

If you are planning to read the book or watch the movie, OF COURSE “SPOILERS”!

In the movie, he is played by young Brit Harris Dickinson.

But this was too abrupt — picnic, then mate the Marsh Girl. Even male birds woo the females for a while, flashing brilliant feathers, building bowers, staging magnificent dances and love songs. Yes, Chase had laid out a banquet, but she was worth more than fried chicken. And “Dixie” didn’t count as a love song. She should’ve known it would be like this. Only time male mammals hover is when they’re in the rut.

The silence grew as they stared at each other, broken only by the sound of their breathing and the breakers beyond. Chase sat up and reached for her arm, but she jerked it away.

“I’m sorry. It’s okay,” he said as he stood. True, he’d come here to snag her, to be the first, but watching those eyes firing, he was entranced.

He tried again. “C’mon, Kya. I said I’m sorry. Let’s just forget it. I’ll take you back to yo’ boat.”

At that she turned and walked across the sand toward the woods. Her long body swaying.

“What’re ya doin? You can’t walk back from here. It’s miles.”

But she was already in the trees, and ran a crow-route, first inland, then across the peninsula, toward her boat.

— Where the Crawdads Sing, pp. 161 – 162

Fishing: Delia Owens, WHERE THE CRAWDADS SING

A tweak of the reading list, because the Katherine Addison novel is so short. So self is putting off reading it to prolong the pleasure of anticipation.

Besides, the movie adaptation of Where the Crawdads Sing is hitting movie theatres on her birthday. She’s got to finish reading it by then!

The improbable happens: Kya’s (usually drunk) father takes her fishing.

. . . she felt a tug, jerked her line, and raised a thick bream, flashing silver and blue. Pa leaned out and snatched it in the net, then sat back, slapping his knees and yahoo-ing like she’d never seen. She grinned wide and they looked into each other’s eyes, closing a circuit.

Before Pa strung it up, the bream flopped around in the boat bottom and Kya had to watch a distant string of pelicans, study the cloud forms, anything but look into dying fish eyes staring at a world without water, wide mouth sucking worthless air. But what it cost her and what it cost that fish was worth it to have this little shred of family.

— Where the Crawdads Sing, p. 55

Ibrahim, TMWDT

Donna looks up, breathes out, and blinks tears from the corners of her eyes.

“Thank you. I’ve felt a bit stupid recently.”

“Loneliness is hard, Donna. It’s one of the big ones.”

“You should do this for a living, you know?”

“You are simply a little lost, Donna. And if one is never lost in life, then clearly one has never traveled anywhere interesting.”

“And you?” asks Donna. “You seem sad.”

“I’m a little sad, yes,” agrees Ibrahim. “I’m frightened, and I can’t see a way through it.”

“Up the next mountain would be my advice,” says Donna.

The Man Who Died Twice, p. 254

Richard Osman’s dialogue. That is all.

Joyce, TMWDT

Although perhaps he isn’t really boring, if everything you hear is true? Killings and gold and helicopters and whatnot? Though if you need killings and gold and helicopters to make you interesting then I suppose you are still boring at heart. Gerry never needed a helicopter.

The Man Who Died Twice, p. 160

Reading this book ever so much faster than she read The Birthday Boys (That book took two damn weeks!) but not trying to rush through because she enjoys the Fearless Four so much.

Next year, she will again join the Goodreads Reading Challenge, but will up her reading goal by 1 or 2. Mustn’t get too ambitious, but this year she almost doubled her reading goals, who would have thought?

Stay tuned.

Oh, the Cheekiness of It All

SPOILER ALERT

Call to Martin Lomax, The Man Who Died Twice, p. 83:

• Does he know an Andrew Hastings? He does. Does Andrew Hastings work for him? He does, no use lying, this is MI5 and they know already. Was Mr. Hastings working for him this evening? No, he was not. We regret to inform you that Mr. Hastings has been shot dead while trying to murder a member of the British Security Services, condolences for your loss, but I wonder if you would have any comment on that.

Is there a #3 installment of The Thursday Murder Club in the works? Because self wanted it, like, yesterday.

Stay tuned.

Sentence of the Day, 2nd Friday of December 2021

This year is going out with a bang! I know, I can feel it. Dick’s Place on Main Street (Mendocino) — a fine, fine name for a bar, in self’s humble opinion) is always full, and now the Mendocino Hotel bar has re-opened — after almost two years. Lots of people wandering in and out, live music. Good times!

Self is on p. 79 of a very delightful book, The Man Who Died Twice. And the section she’s on is Joyce’s, who is such a droll character. Apparently, a man’s head has been blown off from close range. Joyce isn’t sure she wants to see what a man with no head looks like, but “just as they loaded the body onto the stretcher” Joyce gets a “quick peek before they zipped up the body bag and, yes, Poppy really had blown his head off.”