A Midsummer Night's Dream by Shakespeare (59)
(n+13th reread)
Yeah, I think I've reread this now about a dozen times since I started working on this book. Backwards and forwards, sideways and upside down. You'd think I have it memorized by now. Well, possibly, I do.
Do I have to mention that I love it?
***
What Jane Austen Ate and Charles Dickens Knew: From Fox Hunting to Whist--the Facts of Daily Life in 19th-Century England by Daniel Pool (60)
Re-read.
I did not do it cover-to-cover this time; there was more dipping. But as I perused the Table of Contents today to read up on how to prepare for a ball, I realized, yeah, I've re-read the whole damn thing this month. Not a usual happening in the course of research (for example, I've only read chunks of Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, Who Betrays Eliza Bennet, The Encyclopedia of Superstitions and Ninteenth-Century Costume and Fashion for this project, though at least two of these I've read in their entirety before).
It's good; it's an overview, not something in-depth, but it's still good.
***
You realize what that means, don't you? I've hit my mark for 2003! 60 books, or one every six-point-some days! That means, anything I read in the month of December is a complete bonus. I doubt I'll bring it up to 100 by December 31st, but I've got my fingers crossed for 2004.
Some other reading goals for 2004: clear off my "to-read" shelf, to finish or return unfinished all the books I've borrowed and accept no more loans except the ones I specifically request, to re-read the Westmark trilogy, to re-read the Outlander series before Scotland, to work on my back-log of Arthurian books, and I think--that's about enough.
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen (58)
(n+1 reread)
whump
That's me, whumping. Such delights. This was the closest, most attentive reread I've had in a long time. Where I attempted to capture and savor every word, to gain a full understanding of what a lively lady of Jane Austen's time might really be like, if you got to know her. This was in part so I can write a version of a lively lady who is not too far out of the period in my Regency romance. And partly for pleasure.
I found that the text answered itself on all questions. Austen certainly knew what she was doing. There is no thread left unwoven.
It is to be jealous, but one might as well be jealous of a goddess.
Effusive enough?
I think so.
Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery (56)
Kayla and I have been reading this for what seems like forever. I put off a bit of it because I knew I couldn't handle the chapter where Matthew dies; plus, we rarely did more than one chapter at a time because we had to stop and explain about why they didn't have electric lights and so forth. No, Anne wasn't Amish, they just lived a long time ago.
I got through the chapter with Matthew, but barely. My voice cracked a couple of places. Couldn't tell if Kayla noticed; she didn't cry. She just said, "I feel very bad for Anne," but she didn't cry. Tough kid.
So, yes, this was a reread for me... and though I hadn't read it for some time, I'd read it so much that there wasn't much I didn't remember. Except for how flowery the language was. I honestly skipped not a few paragraphs of this dewy morn or that ferny spring here and there, mostly to keep my audience awake for the good parts, which are very good, especially if you're a little girl with an overactive imagination and a propensity toward chatter-- which I certainly was, and Kayla certainly is. The indoctrination into the sisterhood is complete; Kayla is full-on thrilled by the prospect of seven more books in the series. Though I don't have Windy Poplars; my dog chewed it to pieces after I read it the first time, and I actually figured it was ok, because there wasn't enough Gilbert Blythe in it, and I never bought a replacement in all these years.
Sunshine by Robin McKinley (55)
Just wonderful. A surprising departure (my favorite YA author actually wrote about sex), but a good one nevertheless. Quite a compelling vampire, in a compelling story. Smart, funny, sexy, exciting, etc. (sigh) If it were a meal, I'd be pleasantly full with my palate fully satisfied. As it is not a meal... I dipped back in and reread the good parts-- ie, all the interactions between Con and Sunshine. I haven't done a dip-back-in like that in years. The last time was a Lois McMaster Bujold. The time before that? Must have been back in high school. (Sometimes, it doesn't pay to get older.)
I'm no fan-girl. But damn, was I excited when Sherwood Smith wrote me back, and said nice things, too.
The Rake: Lessons in Love by Suzanne Enoch (54)
Oops... actually read this way, way back on the 16th or something, in North Carolina. Very enjoyable. Enoch is a new fave.
A Rose in Winter by Kathleen Woodiwiss (53)
(sighs) Much better. I started reading this before I went to North Carolina, but forgot to take it with me. It was nice to return to this after the previous book...
I know at least one person who hates this book because of it's somewhat absurd premise, but I cannot agree. As irritating as I found Heather, I adore Erienne. Her sense of honor is admirable, and I find the Lord Saxton/Christopher Seton contest absolutely fascinating--re-readable, at the very least, since I'm sure I've read this three or four times in the last decade alone.
The Flame and the Flower by Kathleen Woodwiss (52)
I thought I hadn't read this already. Guess what? I had! Probably almost 15 years ago. Guess what else? I hated the main character! It all seemed ok when I was 15, but holy crow, batman, I wanted to make the main character cry on several occasions. Just because I knew I could. She was always near tears, anyway, and she really, really, really, really irritated me. One sharp word from her rapist/husband (oy), and tears welled in her eyes. She never said, "That's enough." She never yelled back. She never tried to ignore him. She never got angry. She never threw a tantrum. She just cried. Useless, mewling... And the intense justification of it all. Granted, I know there are people like this in the world, but lord knows, I wasn't that pathetic at 18.
All I could think was that this seemed like an early effort. And the hero is great, rakish, strong, irritatingly obtuse, demanding. The only other thing that grated was the use of "naught" to stand in for "not" instead of "nothing." A bit odd. It may be correct, but it certainly didn't seem correct.
I am non-book-reading schmuck. But that's what happens when you write more words in a day than you read.
Trickster's Choice by Tamora Pierce (51)
I had my doubts; at first it seemed like Pierce was taking a very heavy-handed tactic with the god jumping in before Aly got a chance to do anything. Should have known an experienced author like Pierce knew what she was doing. So, it worked. It worked quite well, and I am ready for the next one!
It may be simply that the Lioness quartet really is Pierce's best work, or maybe she just does better focusing on the knights (because the Keladry stuff was great until the end-that-was-not-an-end), so I don't know... the Daine books seemed too crowded; all the stuff that was going on made it feel like the structural integrity of the world was falling to pieces (who knows; maybe that's what Pierce meant to happen, since it was sort of what was happening in the story). There were flashes of that in this book, except that time and again, I felt that Pierce pulled them together and was able to make them work.
If I were 13 again, I would be so frustrated right now... part of the problem of growing older is that it's just that much harder to agonize over the plights of fictional people. I hate that, actually; the brief moments of frustration I had when Aly woudn't tell anyone her real identity were fun. I wish I could agonize about it for days. But I know that the writer will fix everything eventually, and I know that Aly is not real, and I have real things to agonize over instead. I miss it. I really do. And Pierce was one of the first (if not the first) author to do that to me, back in the sixth grade. So she'll always have a special place in my heart...
Sated with summer
Oblated autumn
Brings catalogue rush,
Sings Bulb-Sale! Bulb-Sale!
Leaf through languidly,
Toss aside with ease.
I am sated with summer,
I am full of flowers,
I am coated with color,
And I will not plant bulbs,
I will not, I will not, I will not.
Naked-bone trees,
Emerald grass,
Jeweled skies,
Glowing, blowing leaves.
What need I crocus,
Or tulip or snowdrop?
Browse onward,
Shop Christmas,
Second catalogue:
Final sale. All bulbs.
Last chance!
Call right now, call right now, call right now.
In the dark and drear,
When four months pass,
Sans colors
But white and brown...
How I'll want to kiss
Raspberrry Ring Daffodil
right on its mouth,
And listen with rapture
to Gander's Symphony Tulip.
And Early Stardrift,
Snow Crocus choruses,
Queen Fabiola Brodiaea,
Dark Secret, Blushing Lady,
Flaming Parrot, Green Wave,
Hyacinth, hyacinth, hyacinth.
My mouth fills up
To lick fingers, turn pages,
Faster, faster.
Dog-ear, scribble,
Tally and total.
Color, greenery,
First tales of summer warmth
In early spring.
I choose you, I choose you, I choose you.
-Merrie Fuller