Cycling Victories!

 

There's not a lot good to be said about 2020; in fact, I'm not going out on any limbs saying it's been one of the crappiest years of most of our lifetimes. But there have been some highlights: the outcome of the presidential election is one that far too many of us take for granted, perhap. Maybe we've been distracted from recognizing the actual results by all the idiocy emanating from what I follow Stephen Colbert's example in referring to as T****.  

But, far more personally, a few months ago I was looking at my bike mileage for the year and thinking that I had certainly chosen a bad year to set a public goal of riding 1500 miles. The second half of March, April, May, and June I rode a lot less than I had in most recent years. I wasn't commuting to work. There was no bookstore day. There was no garden tour day. There was no backyard farm day. There was no yard sale day. There were no tulip fields to visit. I wasn't even going to the grocery store. I'm not sure I  left West Seattle between mid-March and mid-July. My riding was essentially limited to deliberate exercise periods during which I anxiously worried about encountering anyone else on the street.

 Somehow, publicly declaring that I wasn't going to achieve the goal turned things around. After that we just started riding more. Oh, the week or more of the weather being "very unhealthy" thanks to wildfires threw a wrench into September and then we both got sick (not Covid) for a week in October, but after each setback we just got back out and biked. Still mostly in West Seattle and with only one serious all-day ride (to Whistling Train Farm in Kent). And so I rode just over 800 miles in the final five months of the year and--woo-hoo!--hit 1504 miles on Boxing Day.

 It's a tiny little thing, utterly meaningless in any way. But this year, I'm taking it as something to celebrate. 

The moon smiles sweetly and unperturbedly

"I blew out the lamp," wrote Rabindranath Tagore, "with the idea of turning in to bed. No sooner had I done so, through the open windows, the moonlight burst in to the room, with a shock of surprise . . . [I]f I had gone off to bed leaving the shutters closed, and thus missed this vision, it would have stayed there all the same without any protest against the mocking lamp inside. Even if I had remained blind to it all my life--letting the lamp triumph to the end . . . even then the moon would still have been there, sweetly smiling unperturbed and unobstructive, waiting for me as she has throughout the ages."
                           --from page 263 of All the Lives We Never Lived by Anuradha Roy

Rabindranath Tagore is an actual poet--many of the characters in Ms Roy's latest seem to have been real people--and I'm not sure if this is her own translation or someone else's. I just know that it's a fine bit of writing, as is the rest of the novel.

Book Bingo 2020

Sadly, I didn't manage a blackout this year, but I read some good books I might not have otherwise picked up. None were real stinkers, either, though more than one has already been essentially forgotten. Honestly, Charlotte's Web might have been the most enjoyable of the bunch, though A Burning and The Yield were also pretty decent. And I am amused with Scott's recommendation of The Gospel According to Mark as the "set at or by the sea" entry. It was my last book, meaning I read it last night, and I can attest that they are constantly jumping into a boat and sailing across the sea in their travels. Who knew?

The last half year in photos

 

The Covid Times have been weird and not just for me, I know. In truth, I don't know how much it's Covid and things being weird and isolated and shutdown and how much it's just the state of the nation and state of the world. I've been so absent from blahdeblahblah, but it's certainly not like I've been traveling or socializing elsewhere and I'm also lagging horribly on book bingo; there will be no black-out bingo card for me this year though you'd think I'd have more time for reading.

 So where has the time gone? What have I been doing other than discovering just how challenging, but also pleasant, "working from home" full-time can be? This afternoon, after a week of furlough, I decided to download the photos from my camera for the first time in months and also breeze through the images on the iPad to see what I'd recorded of the last several months. Food, it seems, and bicycle outings, and the sights of West Seattle. Sadly, Photoshop is on the list of things I've lost this year so the photos that follow are all pretty raw, minimal cropping and essentially no adjustments. C'est la vie/guerre/covid/temps.

Cookery! Baking has been a popular pastime for many a housebound Covidite this year and we have been no exception--though I eschewed sourdough, having gone through that back in 1970s. My rule is that you don't have to repeat a fad if you don't want to. Instead, I've spent some quality time with Julia Child, attempting to improve my tart baking. I admit that the simple plum torte, using a recipe I found online, has been just about as rewarding and a lot less stressful. Most of my kitchen activities have been related to using up produce.

Baked plum torte

 

Basic English muffin bread

Birthday cake! (Scott made it using his favorite Fannie Farmer recipe. It was delicious.)

Apricot (and blueberry) tart from Mastering the Art of French Cooking, ready for the oven

I don't swear this is the same tart, but it's based on the same recipe

We got a *lot* of peas this year, and more beets than we could readily use so I learned to make spreads from them. (The recipe calls it "pea hummus" but commenters insist that only garbanzo beans make hummus, so I call them "spreads.")

Say, here's the pea stuff in the mini-chopper. Easy-peasy, aside from the time-consuming business of shelling the peas.

Biking! Since I wasn't getting any miles traveling to and from work, Scott and I got into the habit of taking a bike ride most evenings and weekend days. I've driven him mad asking him to take photos with his cellphone for me. I'm finally sharing them here.

Rainier, looking far less impressive than it does in real life

The one day that really felt like summer; the afternoon I took an impromptu swim at Lincoln Park during a bike ride. I dried off on the ride home.

We rode by this a number of times before I finally insisted upon a photo. West Seattle, I love you!

You would not believe the number of photos we have of Jeb, the West Seattle pony. Did I already say I love West Seattle? Well, Jeb is another reason why.

Not too far from Jeb is a yard with two "rescue bunnies," whose names, sadly, I can't now remember. Buttercup, maybe?

There are a ton of gobsmacking views to be had in West Seattle though this untweaked photo really doesn't do this one justice.

We have stayed almost exclusively in West Seattle for months, but we went farther afield just this last weekend to visit the Whistling Train Farm (aka WTF) in Kent. Partially, it was to boost my bike miles for the year, but we also wanted an adventure.

Not yet at WTF, this charming trompe l'oeil signage is at an as-yet unnamed park not far from South Park.

The U-Pick sunflower field at WTF

I didn't know there'd be donkeys!!!

This should be the first photo in this section, but Blogger has changed enough since I used it last that I don't trust myself to try to move it.

 

Garden! We've hung around home, pretty much, allowing lots of time for gardening--and yet, if I'm to be honest (and what else is blahdeblah for?), the yard kind of looks like hell now. But earlier in the year, my old photos suggest, it was quite lovely.

The apricot produced this year and some of the fruit survived long enough to be picked. (Scott built a clever device to allow us to reach the higher fruit, but I didn't copy that image over so it's not shown here.)

The Harvest (don't scoff!)

Bleeding hearts etc., from earlier in the year

Flowers, broccoli, peas!

It was a good year for the lavender.

More Harvest. (The purple peas were pretty on the vine, but the pods aren't so edible so, really, green is the way to go.)

The purple peas were also more regimented and a bit less round.

Some years the plum tree produces, some years it doesn't; this is a productive year. We've been making jam.

I wish I could remember what this flower is called--maybe it's a sort of fuschia?

Early days for the new veg garden; here we had to add little umbrellas for the tomato starts because I failed to harden them off properly. They are now gigantic but the fruit is still all green. Sigh.

This is a spot we've been eating at. Frequently.

It's been The Year of the Jay; shown here and below are Steller's jays though we've also had scrub jays.

That's some bad hat, Harry.

 

Gradka rests atop the back step

And generally encapsulates the ennui of existence.

 

Goat Circus! Jennie Grant brought her new goats to West Seattle for my birthday:

Charlotte in the blackberry patch

Chloe in her fancy harness

Chloe, looking shy

If it works, this should be a video of a young goat doing a stunt!

Demonstrations and other life-changing events!

Visiting the Farmers Market now means waiting in line and marveling at the density of one's fellow shoppers.

We ventured to Beacon Hill for the silent and masked George Floyd demonstration one cold wet day.

And we stayed home for the "shelter in place" protest

Why limit yourself to "something old" when you can have it be "something wacky" as well?

Scott and I dressed up for an event featuring an officiant and two witnesses in our backyard.

How often does a jacket like this get a chance to go out?

Just about the most charming card ever.

 I cannot explain the absence of cocktails shown in this post.

Tap, tap, tap: is this thing on?

It's been some months, blahdeblah, and I'm not really hanging around this time either. No, it's just a quick link to a short clip of a bee in the lavender to establish my ongoing existence.

Fingers crossed this works.

2019 Reading List, Part II

Having just finished Unsheltered and wanting a break before I start something new, I return to finish up the recap of last year's reading. I'm at the tail end (I hope) of the flu and oddly depressed by the results of the Nevada caucus and so, I tell myself, not at my most scintillating here.

Beloved
Disquieting but unputdownable is Ms. Morrison's bestseller. I'm not sure if one was supposed to not know who the strange visitor was from the outset; it seemed pretty obvious. Regardless, a fine if not particularly happy read.

The Fourth Bear
From Jasper Fforde's "Nursery Crime" series. I can't remember why I was moved to re-read this, but it involves the Three Bears and a missing journalist with yellow hair.

Becoming 
The mega-best-selling Michelle Obama autobiography. I was surprised by how much I enjoyed this book and how much I liked Ms. Obama.

The Intuitionist
Sometimes I'm particularly slow on the uptake so I read a lot of this earlier work of Colson Whitehead believing there really was a city department of elevator inspectors. And I  continue to have a sort of warm feeling about elevators. Weird but quite fine.

Invisible Man
Another classic you'd think I'd have read earlier. Mostly what I remember about this one is how the narrator gets kicked out of school so unfairly. But that's really just the start of how unfair his life is.

Convenience Store Woman
I read a review of this, and I liked its wacky cover art. I was never entirely clear just how crazy I was supposed to find the main character, but she's a young woman who finds she fits in best working at a convenience store so, really, I'm okay thinking "pretty crazy."

The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle
So many people love this book. Scott did not care for it. I figured I should read it for myself to see. Now, so many months later, I dimly recall that I fell somewhere between the two extremes. There's a lot of creeping in and out of apartments or houses via the back alley.

Owl at Home
Now here is a fine book! Owl makes tear water tea, is alarmed by the strange bumps in his bed, and enjoys the company of his good round friend, the moon. 

The Bluest Eye
Toni Morrison again--perhaps my first? And dark dark dark it was, too, which is maybe why it is perhaps my favorite.

The City & the City
I dimly recall that there are two cities that coexist in the same space and that a criminal from one sneaks into the other, causing difficulties for the detectives. Maybe.

Antosha in Prague 
Surely this was a reread. Short stories featuring a character who bears striking similarities to Anton Chekhov. You'd think it would find a publisher.

Maus, Part I
Mein Gott, another classic that I waited a few decades to read. The rise of Nazi Germany featuring some quite charming mice. I should really see about getting Part II to see how it turns out. 

The Virgin in the Garden
A reread of classic A.S. Byatt. I can't remember how it held up, truth to tell.

The New Yorker Album 1925 - 1950
Honestly, I could just read nothing but cartoons and kids' books. This collection of old New Yorker cartoons includes "I say it's spinach and I say to hell with it," and "You've got to put your back in to it."

The Autobiography of Foudini M. Cat
Sometimes I just don't remember how books came into my possession; I think I bought this at a garage sale years ago and it just waited until I got around to it. The narrator and hero is a cat. It worked for me.

Our Uninvited Guests
A book by Julie Summers about houses in England that, either voluntarily or not, were used by the British government during the second world war. Fascinating stories of spy-training as well as refugees and schools. 

More snippets, this time from "Pasta for Nightingales"

"Pasta for Nightingales" was the mystery book found beneath the Christmas tree this year, it being one I'd never heard of and that Scott ordered based on a description that caught his fancy. I had my doubts, but it turns out to be excellent. It's a 17th century bird guide, original title (translated from the Italian): The Aviary: Discourse on the Nature and Distinctive Characteristics of Diverse Birds, and in particular of those which sing, together with the way of catching them, raising them and maintaining them.

 I look at that title and think a) Jen better never complain about the length of another subtitle at work; b) Giovanni Pietro Olina (the author) doesn't use the serial comma; but mostly c) what about all the stuff about which ones are good to eat and which are prone to melancholy and which cure colic? Because this book is nothing if not encyclopedic.

But this post's title promises snippets. Such as:

From p. 12, the chapter "Of the Robin Redbreast":
It brooks no COMPANION, striving with every exertion to chase away any that would disturb its possession, from when is born the proverb, Unicum Arbustum non alit duos Erithacos ('A Single Bush does not feed two robins.') It is a friend of the BLACKBIRD, in whose company it is most often found, and on the contrary it is a great enemy of the Little Owl. 

From p. 56, the chapter "Of the Hawfinch":
. . . and they are good to eat but do not do well in Aviaries if they are very small, because in that case they annoy the other Birds. It is not held in esteem as a SINGER . . . "

From p. 88, the chapter "Of the Thrush ":
The thrush being good for singing, and for SERVING at Table, merits mention even though quite well known . . . 

And from p. 106,  the chapter "Of Our Native Sparrow":
They are most sagacious and shrewd, so much that they know the nets and BIRDLIME and Crossbows better than any other birds. They dearly love their own kind, so that when one has found enough to peck, it sings at once to call its companions thither, just as in the story told of PHILOSTRATE.

Truly, the whole book is charming and endlessly quotable. That means that my Christmas books, aka my first three books of 2020, are all fabulous. What are the odds?

Snippet from "As Always, Julia"

I've just finished this collection of letters between Julia Child and Avis DeVoto and, gee whizz, but it was a great read! It's possible my own writing style will never recover. There are so many excellent aspects to the book but tonight I share Julia's response (dated April 24, 1961) to getting the first set of galley proofs for the first volume of Mastering the Art of French Cooking:

I have now received two batches which takes us to the last page of the sauces. But I am presumably to wait for the illustrations to be sent so they can be keyed into the galleys before I send things back to Knopf. They were supposed to have been sent on the 18th, and in the mean time J. Jones says everything must be hurried as they are behind schedule, etc. etc. But the instructions are really not quite adequate so I know what I am supposed to do, but I have done what I decided to do, which is to answer every query no matter whom it seems to be addressed to, and some seem to be addressed to the printer. Ah well. I didn't know I was also supposed to be a typographer, but it says in the instructions "Answer every query." However I have decided I have to participate in the typography because there is a passel of illogic in headings. It all  looks splendid indeed when you look at it casually, but then when your nose is in you find that headings are not consistent, pages farther on has another, etc. etc. ETC. ETC. J. Jones says I must be warned that I am fully responsible for proof reading--does that also mean type? I must assume so. At least, if I do not point out errors, they may well be missed. But I cannot believe any serious publisher would leave all that kind of stuff to an amateur! So going over the setting copy, I have made a long list of all the type faces and symbols, etc. etc. and have just marked up the galleys the way I think they should be done.
 It would be much easier for authors if fuller instructions were sent, and if a type guide were also included. Certainly I know how I will do my next book . . . 

-from page 383 of the exquisite As Always, Julia: The Letters of Julia Child & Avis DeVoto, edited by Joan Reardon.

Book Report, 2019 edition (Part I)

 Sure, it's January 9th but I say it's never too late to post the end-of-year books read update, right? I'm currently deep in As Always, Julia, and I finished my first book of 2020 (Three Things About Elsie) on New Years day so 2019 already feels a long time in the past. I confess there are some (many, maybe) titles listed here that I don't remember at all; thank goodness I linked to reviews, etc. when I saved them earlier.

 The numbers: 
 74 books read, ostensibly for pleasure
 13 re-reads
  8 nonfiction
  7 children's (some overlaps with "re-reads," I think)

The titles, in reverse order, with comments where any occur to me. (Disclosure: I ran out of enthusiasm for this project and there is no commentary for the final 14 titles. Maybe later.)

Is He Popenjoy? 
Oh Trollope, how I love you. Some used bookstore (Mercer Street Books, maybe) had a shelf of very small trim-size, early 20th century editions of Trollope a while back. I wisely snapped up all those I didn't already have and have been rationing them out to myself because when I'm particularly suicidal, there is nothing better than Anthony Trollope to restore my equilibrium. These copies are particular excellent as they come with pencilled notes on the flyleaf from a previous owner. Popenjoy's final note: "Re-read Jan 29 - Feb 3 2007, lots of fun!"

The Mapping of Love and Death
I bought this one at Paper Boat Booksellers because it had a really cool cover. Don't judge a book by its cover, kids! The mystery itself was pretty blah. And yet Patience can't find a publisher.
 
Girl, Woman, Other
Also picked up at Paper Boat Booksellers (Seattle's newest excellent bookstore, located in West Seattle; it's well worth a visit!), this one won the Booker (is it still the Man Booker?) in 2019. Did it have the amazing way with words that classic Bookers have had? Maybe not, but it was a damned good book and did the best job of explaining to a 50-something like me the concept of ungendered/multigendered etc. Recommended!

Moo
This purchase dates back to Bookstore Day, 2019; I picked it up on the Children's shelf at Open Books: A Poem Emporium, probably thinking it would help me fill the poetry square for book bingo. It turned out to be less obviously poem and more novel that plays with form and has fun with words. Maybe that's poetry; I donno. But it sat here until early December when I wanted something easy. A charming story about a city girl who learns about cows and life in rural Maine. 
 
Their Eyes Were Watching God
One of those books I always felt maybe I should read; I think that someone, whose name I should remember but don't, read a bit from it at the Book Speakeasy event at the Smith Tower. That reading was the kick I needed to pick up a copy (probably from Paper Boat!) and finally read it. You don't need me to tell you it was excellent.
 
The Cockroach
Ach! I saw this unknown-to-me slim new volume by Ian McEwan at Paper Boat Booksellers and snatched it up though some of his late works have been distinctly meh. (Do the kids still use "meh"? Probably not.) When I brought it home, Scott was a little disappointed. It seems he had ordered a surprise copy of the book for me from the UK, not realizing it was available in the US. If anyone wants a copy, I have one to spare! It was a fine bit of satire on the current state of UK politics, though if you've seen the Dr Who episode where aliens take over Downing Street, you sort of already know how it's going to go.
 
The Cruelest Month
In the Gamache series. Need one say more? As with Trollope, I limit my intake of these so I don't run out.

Drive Your Plough Over the Bones of the Dead
The forgotten book (see The True Deceiver below) that I had to track down using [[SPOILER ALERT!]] "translated book old woman who murders her neighbor in winter" as my search terms. It's the sort of book that is more than it first appears and, in my case, sort of insidiously sticks with you, even as you seem to forget it.

Pomfret Towers
One of the re-reads, this is an Angela Thirkell I hadn't read in quite some time because I loaned my copy out and never got it back. It's a particular favorite as it was my very first Thirkell. Very fluffy and makes me long to have someone bring me a nice breakfast in bed featuring three kinds of jam and warm rolls and breads.
 
The Woman Who Died A Lot
Here things will start to get repetitive. I decided I should reread all the Thursday Next books, in order, one after another to see how the series holds together. The answer is "pretty damned well." This one is the most recent (though Mr Fforde claims to be writing another) and it features old creaky Thursday. 
 
One of Our Thursdays is Missing
See above; this one has a lot of the two fictional Thursdays fighting it out. Some nice alternative universe, but not exactly stuff, sort of.
 
First Among Sequels
Okay, I admit I don't remember the plot of this one. 

Something Rotten
The one with Hamlet and Lady Hamilton. Perhaps also Neanderthals. Or are they more prevalent in First Among Sequels?

Well of Lost Plots
When I first read this one I thought it was pretty bad, but it was much better on this particular reread, as part of a series.

Lost in a Good Book
Thursday's first significant adventures in the Book World.

Biased
Hey! This isn't a Thursday Next! It's not even fiction. I put my name down for this at the library months earlier and when my turn came around I figured I should jump on it. Mountaineers had a bias-training day with a really good presenter and he quoted from this book more than once so I thought I'd give it a read. It was enlightening and less depressing than it might have been. 

The Eyre Affair 
The first of the Thursday Next series. I admit I was sort of shocked when my coworkers had never heard of it; it was big noise when it came out and for good reason.

The Great Fire
It's been a while since I panned a book on this list but that break is over. Someone recommended Shirley Hazzard to me shortly before Bookstore Day and when I saw this (at a steal of a price) at Arundel Books that day I snapped it up--and promptly set it aside. The day came around that I needed something to read and . . . really distinctly blah.

The Nickel Boys
You know how sometimes you are so prepared for something to be truly wrenching that it turns out to be sort of a relief that the events depicted weren't worse? That was the experience of this book for me. It's based on a true story and a truly awful true story, but I wasn't as shredded as I should have been. Maybe that says something bad about me. Still, Mr Whitehead can certainly write.

How to Be an Antiracist
I was quoting bits of this all over the place as I was reading it, and I'd like to think I've internalized some of it, but I don't swear that I have. Stronger in the first chapters than the final couple but still a pretty damned fine book.

A Gentleman in Moscow
A bestseller I'd resisted for a long time. A friend said she'd read it and it wasn't amazing but it was fine enough and that turned out to be an accurate assessment. I enjoyed it while reading it but don't think it left any lasting mark on me.

Death Wins A Goldfish
Now this is one of my favorites for the year--and sadly I don't own my own copy. I need to see to that because Death's enjoyment of the simple pleasures of life is a treat to behold.

A Fatal Grace
Another Gamache msytery.

 Crudo 
 My memory of this one is vague, but I know it was disappointing. I'd read a great review for it, and I think it was one of my first purchases at Paper Boat Booksellers so it will always be special for that reason, but the book itself was underwhelming.

The Bell Jar
A reread, naturally. It mostly holds up, though I might think Antonia White does a better job of portraying the Madness of the Young Woman.

There, There
"Recommended by a young person." This could have been on my bingo card except that I wanted something lighter at the time so while I bought this at Cloud & Leaf Bookstore while on vacation in Manzanita, I didn't read it until some months later. Another one of those "how did I know nothing about this world" books.

The House at the End of Hope Street
The antithesis of The Mapping of Love and Murder, as I bought this one largely based on its charming cover and the story within was also quite charming.

How the Light Gets In
And again with Gamache. Mostly I am amazed by how often I see this phrase (apparently from a Leonard Cohen song?) being used these days. It's the cracks, see?

Tinkers
This one filled a square for book bingo and it's something Scott read, but didn't think much of, ages ago. It seemed fine to me. A lot about clocks, oddly.

Anthem
Sometimes you just hold your nose for book bingo. This classic by Ayn Rand had the advantage of being short. But is she ever a stinko writer. Seriously.

The Overstory
The anti-Anthem. In Anthem, trees are in the way, impeding progress toward the bright shining future of the Uberman while, of course, trees are the hero in The Overstory. This was a book for Mountaineers Books' book club I'd not otherwise have picked up just because it did get so much hype. Turns out it was deserved; one of the best books I've read in a long time.

Innocence
 I had to look at the link to see what this was. It's Penelope Fitzgerald is what it was. An odd little book is what it was and somehow I've blurred it with Terry Gilliam's The Man Who Killed Don Quixote the Italian film Happy as Lazzaro in my head. They have a similar feel. I'm not saying that's a bad thing.

Carbonel & Calidor
A children's book involving magic and cats. I'm sold.

 The Man Who Would be King 
I'd seen the movie ages ago, but the book seemed quite different. And better, really.

Mozart's Journey to Prague
Filling a square with a book that we had, I thought this was fine. Do I remember much about it? Not so much.


The Albertine Workout
I felt--and still feel--this might have been cheating for my "poetry" square in Book Bingo, but it was a fun and quick recap of Proust. If I have time, I'm going to reread In Search of Lost Time one volume after another.

Binky the Space Cat
I believe I read this one as an ebook from the Library to fill the "graphic novel" square for book bingo. Binky is a cat who wants to be a space cat. Hijinks ensue. Binky orders all sorts of spacecraft equipment and secretly builds his space ship, possibly within the confines of his litterbox.There are far worse things done in litterboxes.

Hollow Kingdom
 The zombie apocalypse in Seattle and featuring a lot of animals that are enmeshed in it. The smart-alecky crow figure is apparently a big selling point, but after a while he was just annoying. Not the best book I read last year.

The Mueller Report
While it looked intimidating, this was not so challenging to read; it's actually a bit of a page turner. But you start off sort of chuckling at the absurdity and stupidity of the Trump crowd and then you just start feeling more and more sick to your stomach. Things have gone so very wrong.

Mr. Fox
Another recommended by a young person book that didn't go in that square. Mr Fox is an odd little book and I'm not sure I ever quite got it straight in my head. But thanks to the cartoon (unrelated, I think), I see Mr Fox as George Clooney.

Blood Rites
The young person recommendation that did go on that square. It's part of a series featuring a magician noir detective. With vampire sidekicks, naturally. And about what you'd expect given that premise.

Dreyer's English
Amusing and informative and just a bit longer than one might have wanted.

God Save the Child
How is it that I only started reading Toni Morrison this year? Such a good writer and so bleak and dark.

Octopus Escapes!
A picture book featuring an octopus that breaks out of its tank at the aquarium. And stuff.

How to Cook a Wolf
Scott bought this on Bookstore day (at Book Larder, predictably), but I don't think he's read it yet. It's a classic I'd never heard of but just my sort of thing: a blend of cooking and second world war life.

The Summer Before the War
Another book that was recommended--this time by a couple of people. It starts quite slight and then becomes a bit more serious in tone towards the end. I remember that sense of it, and it featuring the usual sweet young things, but I've retained no details.

The Disappearing Spoon
I may have bought this one on 2018's Bookstore Day. Written for teens, I think, it contains fascinating stories about the elements of the periodic table. Did you know that there were actually several versions of the periodic table at one time? Who knew? It's like putting the alphabet song in a different order--heresy.

Unclay
Not a book I loved; in this version, Death comes to Earth but doesn't win a goldfish and it makes him grumpy.

Grasshopper on the Road
Most people think of Arnold Lobel as the author of the "Frog and Toad" books but for me, he's the author of Owl at Home. As it happens, he also wrote about a Grasshopper who decides to see the world. As usual, ants turn out to be no fun.

Peculiar Ground
A book that thought more of itself than I did, this novel is well-reviewed but left me pretty cold. Lots of moments where one was supposed to be stunned but wasn't.

The Slaves of Solitude
A novel of depressed people sharing a rooming house in wartime England. It should have been just my thing but it wasn't.

The True Deceiver
By Tove Jansson of the Moomin books (which I've never read), an odd and fairly inexplicable book that reminds me of something else I read more recently that strikes me as being missing from this list. That's going to bug and distract me now. [I've since added Drive Your Plough Over the Bones of the Dead to my list; what else did I forget to list?]

Still Life 
Gamache again.

The Travelling Cat Chronicles
Another favorite of the year, this one--translated from Japanese--features a young man who is looking for a new home for his cat, which leads him to visit a series of old friends. It's a well done device and the story and characters are all charming as well. The sort of book that restores my faith in fiction.

News of the World
And also a fine book which, it now strikes me, also features a couple of individuals traveling the countryside, with the intention of finding a new home for one of them. Nicely written with echoes of True Grit.

Shell Games
Another work-place book club read, this time about high crime in the shell fish industry. Others loved it; I found it poorly written and tedious to read. But hey; geoducks can be contraband. 

Never Let Me Go
A re-read of an Ishiguro. Still good.

The Brandons
A re-read of a Thirkell; still easy.

--Definitely losing steam here; there may be a Part II to this ever-so-fascinating revisitation of last year's books or, well, there may not be. 

Beloved

The Fourth Bear

Becoming

The Intuitionist

Invisible Man

Convenience Store Woman

The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle

Owl at Home

The Bluest Eye

The City & the City

Antosha in Prague

Maus, Part I

The Virgin in the Garden

The New Yorker Album 1925 - 1950

The Autobiography of Foudini M. Cat

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