The Reading Addict

Honestly, yesterday was a killer.

Moving from Annaghmakerrig to Cork, with bags of books dangling from each arm. What was she thinking?

By the time she got to Café Paradiso, she was like, dead. D-E-A-D.

Anyhoo, it’s been a very blissful day, spent doing absolutely nothing. Holed up in The Red Room, reading. Listened to a classical music station. Wrote a further chapter of her Everlark WIP, which she warned her readers (five chapters ago) would take as much as a year between updates, because for some reason she feels she must be in Ireland to continue, and she won’t be back in Ireland until next year.

But she keeps saying that in the notes to each and every chapter, and right after she writes that, she ends up writing another chapter.

Her last chapter ends with this image of Katniss:

  • She hears a sound and whirls, snatching her bow and nocking an arrow in one swift movement.
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Reading in Cork

What a tease she is.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

Thought of the Day

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Gallery Bookshop, Main Street, Mendocino, CA

Stay tuned.

Oh, Theroux

  • That was why, whenever I mentioned I was a writer, most people smiled in what I took to be pity, as though I had just disclosed a personal failing, but a lovable, forgivable fault. Because to nonreaders a book is a riddle and a challenge . . .

Deep South, by Paul Theroux

People don’t know what to say in answer to “I’m a writer,” they’re put in a spot which “baffles” them, it’s as if “a dinner guest among carnivores takes a seat at the table and says, By the way, I’m a vegan.”

ROFL!

BTW, if anyone cares to know, self is on p. 177, and the book is 441 pages in total, and so that makes self almost at the halfway mark.

Her concentration’s drifting. Oh no, oh no! Must find a way to re-focus. Otherwise, it’ll be another month before she finishes.

The next book on her reading list is the Anjelika Houston memoir, Watch Me.

Stay tuned.

DEEP SOUTH: Eutaw

An encounter in Eutaw:

“You’re late,” the woman said. “Why are you late?”

And then she proceeds to give Theroux such a deep-freeze, icy reception and tongue-lashing that he ends up apologizing three times, and saying things like

  • I’m grateful to you for seeing me on such short notice.
  • I was distracted by: 1. Back roads. 2. Groves of trees. 3. Golden fields. 4. Cotton bursting open.
  • I’m only fifteen minutes late.

Paul Theroux, I would advise never returning to the town of Eutaw.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

Paul Theroux’s DEEP SOUTH, West Alabama

Theroux is a master of the caustic zinger. Exhibit A:

  • I was the sinner sitting among the publicans, well behind the Philistines, in a back pew. I was not normally a churchgoer, but what made a Sunday in the South complete was a church service, a gun show, or a football game.

Stay tuned.

Last Year, The Wallace Collection

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Because last summer, she was reading Howard Jacobson’s The Act of Love, which is set mostly on London’s Great Russell Street (an antiquarian book dealer’s! Just across from the British Museum!) and The Wallace Collection, in July 2015 self went to see The Wallace Collection for the first time.

She asked a museum staffer if she knew where Fragonnard’s famous painting was.

“I know exactly,” said the staffer, without missing a beat (very much like the taxi driver who said, when self inquired if he knew St. Bride’s: “Of course! I’m a London cabbie!”). “She’s in the parlor, swinging away.”

LOL!

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

This Conversation

Self was in Oxford.

Oxford, as in UK.

The year she got shortlisted for the Saboteur Awards.

Funny, that was also her first visit to Ireland.

In fact, she was IN Ireland when she got the e-mail from her publisher. In Florida.

“Oh,” self e-mailed. “I don’t think I can make it to Oxford, Mississippi. Because, I’m in Ireland.”

And her publisher said, “Well, if you’re in Ireland, I think that’s a lot closer to Oxford than where I am.”

And self thought, Huh, that’s funny.

Then she got an e-mail from the Saboteur Awards people, giving her directions on getting to Oxford. Which included going to London, then taking a train . . .

Wait. London. Train.

HOLY COW YOU CANNOT BE TELLING HER SHE WAS UP FOR A BRITISH AWARD?

Like hell, she said!

Anyhoo, she wound up in Oxford, UK. Drinking champagne, thank you very much. A young woman comes up to self, introduces herself as a Ph.D. student from Oxford. Oxford University, not Oxford as in Oxford, Mississippi. LOL.

The young woman asks self what she does to relax.

Self doesn’t even have to think about it: “I write Fan Fiction.”

And this young woman, this doctoral candidate in Oxford University, doesn’t bat an eyelash. She comes right back at self with: “Which universe?”

And self goes: “Hunger Games. Everlark.”

And that is the honest truth.

Stay tuned.

Never, Ever

Never, ever in the history of self’s reading of fan fiction did she ever think she would find dialogue like the one below so meaninful:

FINNICK:

Kitty, you okay?

PEETA:

Katniss, okay?

The second line belongs to Tarzan Peeta and Katniss had to teach him English all over again because apparently Peeta was the sole survivor of a shipwreck and ended up on an uninhabited island off some African coast when he was just seven years old and forgot how to wear clothes and even how to speak (He grunts at Katniss the first time he meets her). You can just imagine the poor kid learning how to survive on berries or monkey poop or whatever! Mind-blowing! Absolutely!

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

 

Tarzan Peeta Part 2: Finnick Tries Flirting

Her thoughts drifted back to the mysterious man that had saved her (from drowning) earlier that day. She really hadn’t stopped thinking about him at all since he’d run into the tropical forest like a mad man, wearing her orange sundress. The vision of it made Katniss’s laughter bubble up . . .

“You liked that one, Kitty?” Finnick asked, catching Katniss by surprise.

Her laughter subsided at the pet name he’d coined for her as soon as they’d met on the plane. She stared at him a moment, willing the scowl to stay behind the delicate mask of merriment. She had to play along, knowing she couldn’t tell any of the men about her savior. At least, not yet. Not until she knew more about him. Why was he on the island. Where he came from . . .

Can you believe anyone finding Finnick tiresome?

LOL.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

Tarzan Peeta!

Anyone remember when Brendan Fraser was super, super-hot?

Anyone remember him in George in the Jungle?

Well, today, after another blissful day in Annaghmakerrig (Thank YOU, Tyrone Guthrie Centre!), self fell to searching for new Everlark fan fics. And she found one that was mighty intriguing!

Let’s see if she can adequately summarize it:

Katniss is fleeing tabloid rumors about her husband’s predilection for men and goes on some kind of exotic adventure with her uncle Haymitch and a male companion (and possibly would-be paramour, Finnick, of all people). The company have to sleep in tents out in the wilderness. Katniss has a life-changing encounter with a naked man with blonde hair and blue eyes (of course, the man’s body is perfect, just perfect) and she raises the alarm (Katniss, you are absolutely clue-leeeess!) and the man goes scampering back into the jungle, but not before he’s had the chance to don one of Katniss’s dresses.

Yes indeed, the last we see of Tarzan Peeta in the opening chapter is him running into the forest wearing an ORANGE dress. Which, on him, barely reaches to there.

Love it!

Stay tuned.

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