asher553: (Default)
'Searoad', one of LeGuin's few published works of realistic fiction, is a collection of twelve tales written circa 1990 and set in the fictional town of Klatsand on the Oregon coast. All are in short-story format except for the first (the single-page proem 'Foam Women, Rain Women') and the last (the novella 'Hernes'). All of the stories are set in the present-day era, except for 'Hernes', which chronicles the lives four generations of Oregon women and is set partly in historical time.

There are occasional nods to science fiction and fantasy: there is Rosemarie Tucket, who has a passion for SF books and a fantasy friendship with an alien 'energy man'; Frances, the narrator of 'True Love' who offers insights into Star Trek and the identity of Captain Kirk's true love; there's the apparition of Ailie's mother, and there's Johanna, who begins to see mysterious messages in the foam; and there's the visionary Lily Frances Herne, who sees angels.

But mostly they are slices of daily life in a small town. Some of the moments that stayed with me: Rosemarie's fantasy life; the 'True Love' narrator's passion for books (in her blessedly pre-internet world); Bill Weisler's existential horror upon learning that flawed works can be sold for more than perfect ones; Deb Shoto's struggle with the demon inside of her; Warren's unsuccessful attempts to avoid, and his final reconciliation with, the party of pensioners in the small town (and, implicitly, his acceptance of his own mortality); the bereaved lesbian Shirley in 'Quoits', the de facto stepmother of Barbara's children; the gradual fleshing out of Ava's character through the eyes of other characters; Jane's anguish at having "failed" to "protect" her daughter Lily (concretized in the dream-image of a watch, punning on the "watch" that she believes she failed to keep, and echoed in Fanny's earlier grieving over the loss of Johnny, p. 192); the recurring images of the Oregon coast and of the foam on the seashore; paradoxes about language and existence (how can a person "be dead" if they no longer exist? and the multiple meanings and connotations of the word "body"); and the image of the 'rain women' at the beginning. I wonder who the rain women are.

Death haunts many of the stories. There are recurring references to the body, living and dead:

- 'You couldn't *be* dead. You couldn't be anything but alive. If you weren't alive, you weren't ... you had been.' (p. 33)

- '"My father hated for the male nurses to touch her," Sue said.' (p. 39)

- 'But when the word for what you made love to was the same as for a corpse it sounded like it didn't matter whether the body was alive or dead.' (p. 58)

- 'She did not like her saying "I hated for men to touch Mother's body - it sounded glib, theatrical.' (p. 121)

There are also recurring references to the sound of the sea, and its effect on the various characters.

LeGuin has lived in Portland since 1959 and knows the region well. 'Searoad' made me want to visit the coast. It also made me think about the public and private lives of the people around me, and about how we relate to our ultimate journey out of this world.
asher553: (Default)
I promised myself I'd spend last weekend doing exactly nothing except reading a book, and I did exactly that. And I read the book I'd been promising myself I'd read for about 25 years.

The book was 'Searoad' by Ursula K. Leguin. It's published as a novel but is a collection of short stories - vignettes, really - plus one novella. The material was originally written circa 1990 - '91 and the book is copyrighted 1991.

I was, of course, otherwise occupied during that time period. I must have run across the book when I returned from the Gulf. There was a small bookstore in San Clemente that I used to frequent before and after the war, but the yellowed bookmark inside the paperback bears the name of Foley Books in San Francisco. So the circumstantial evidence suggests that I bought it there, perhaps on one of my occasional visits to 'The City', or after my marriage (in 1992) to Ms. X.

The book is one of UKL's few published volumes of realistic fiction. There are occasional nods to science fiction and fantasy: there is Rosemarie Tucket, who has a passion for SF books and a fantasy friendship with an alien 'energy man'; Frances, the narrator of 'True Love' who offers insights into Star Trek and the identity of Captain Kirk's true love; there's the apparition of Ailie's mother, and there's Johanna, who begins to see mysterious messages in the foam; and there's the visionary Lily Frances Herne, who sees angels.

But mostly it is a collection of tales set in a small town on the Oregon Coast in the late 20th century (with the excpetion of the novella, 'Hernes', a family saga of four generations of women). It is not a page-turner but it is beautifully written.

There seems to be a nod to Virginia Woolf implied in the voice of Virginia Herne; on p. 190 she says, cryptically, "That's what Virginia said!" in reference to her need for a workspace (i.e., a "room of her own"); on p. 220, there's an equally cryptic aside, "We have the same name." You have to go to p. 223 in the appendix of character biographies to learn that the fictional VH published, in 1969, a work titled 'Woolf's Voices'. (The casual bookstore browser picking up the paperback could easily mistake the final entries on p. 224 for a list of the real-life author's own published works.)

I read the book cover to coverover the weekend. Some of the moments that stayed with me: Rosemarie's fantasy life; the 'True Love' narrator's passion for books (in her blessedly pre-internet world); Bill Weisler's existential horror upon learning that flawed works can be sold for more than perfect ones; Deb Shoto's struggle with the demon inside of her; Warren's unsuccessful attempts to avoid, and his final reconciliation with, the party of pensioners in the small town (and, implicitly, his acceptance of his own mortality); the gradual fleshing out of Ava's character through the eyes of other characters; Jane's anguish at having "failed" to "protect" her daughter Lily (concretized in the dream-image of a watch, punning on the "watch" that she believes she failed to keep, and echoed in Fanny's earlier grieving over the loss of Johnny, p. 192); the recurring images of the Oregon coast and of the foam on the seashore; paradoxes about language and existence (how can a person "be dead" if they no longer exist? and the multiple meanings and connotations of the word "body"); and the image of the 'rain women' at the beginning. I wonder who the rain women are.

I think I met Ursula Leguin once. It would have been late 2000 or early 2001, probably, at a Reclaiming event - some equinox or solstice or Samhain thing or whatever. Maybe it was Samhain (I think it's properly pronounced "sah-win" but I always mentally say it "Sam Hayne"), the cross-quarter corresponding to Halloween. Maybe people were in costume, I can't remember. I just remember this cheerful, short lady with grey hair, a dead ringer for the cover photographs of UKL, and I introduced myself to her and she gave her name as Ursula. Well, I don't know for a fact that it was her, but Ursula isn't all that common a name, and I knew UKL lived in Portland and I had surmised (from clues in books like 'Always Coming Home') that she had ties to the pagan community; so I suspected it might actually be her. But it just didn't seem the time or place to say "Geeeee whiz, are you Ursula K. LeGuin, the Famous Author?!?" So I guess I'll never know for sure.

LeGuin was born in late October, 1929, making her the same age, to within a couple of weeks, as my mother. And so help me, in the photo at the back of 'Searoad' she looks for all the world like Stella. I think of what they might have had in common - creative intellectual women, growing up in a sexist era - and I try to imagine the conversations they would have had if they'd met in person. I remember Mom being a LeGuin fan and introducing me to the Earthsea books and, I think, 'Rocannon's World' and 'The Left Hand of Darkness'. So I guess in a sense I have always subconsciously thought of Ursula as Stella's doppelganger.

I'm reading through 'Searoad' a second time now. I'm realizing how much of the book has to do with death. Perhaps this is what the back-cover blurb means when it says "our world ends here, and another begins".

Reading

Oct. 30th, 2016 06:58 pm
asher553: (Default)
My current job allows me to listen to audio while I work, so I'm getting a lot of "reading" done in the form of audiobooks.  My style nowadays is often to combine listening to the audiobook with reading the text either in print or on Kindle, so sometimes I'll listen to a few chapters at work and then come home and re-read them in print.  Here's a run-down of some of the books I've been taking in lately; some of them I've finished, others are still in progress.

'Envoy' by Zalmay Khalilzad.
Born into a Sunni family in a Shi'a city in a Sunni country, he moved with his family to Kabul ("much more sophisticated than Mazar") when he was in 8th grade.  Winning a slot in an AFS exchange program, he came to the United States as a teenager in the late 1960s.  He returned to Kabul for university, then went on to complete his studies at the American University in Beirut, where he met Cheryl.  The book takes us through Khalilzad's diplomatic career with the US Government, and his work in Iraq and in his native Afghanistan.  It's both a personal and a professional memoir, reflecting on his family life and offering insights into the thinking of various officials and other decision-makers.

'ISIS Apocalypse' by William McCants;
'ISIS:  The State of Terror' by Jessica Stern and J. M. Berger.
Two books detailing the rise, decline, and revival of the terrorist entity founded by Zarqawi.  Stern and Berger's book builds on McCants' work, and adds a special focus on the role of social media in the world of terrorist organizations.

'The Iran Wars' by Jay Solomon.
Detailed account of the behind-the-scenes negotiations surrounding the Obama Administration's nuclear deal with Iran.

'Rebbe' by Joseph Telushkin.
An inspiring yet clear-eyed account of the life and teachings of Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson - better known as the Lubavitcher Rebbe - easily the most influential figure in late 20th-century orthodox Jewish life.  Telushkin draws on interviews, diaries, and letters to paint a vivid picture of this visionary and driven leader.

'The Prime Ministers' by Yehuda Avner.
Personal memoir of the author's life, from his antisemitism-plagued youth in Manchester, England to his career in the service of four Israeli Prime Ministers - Eshkol, Meir, Rabin, and Begin.  Avner himself appears in Telushkin's book, as he accompanied both Rabin and Begin on their visits to the Rebbe.

All of these are non-fiction books - it's just what I happen to be reading now, and admittedly some of the material is pretty grim.  But I like learning about the nuances of power and human interactions from real-world events.

asher553: (Default)
Yom Kippur was beautiful - the weather was great, the services were inspiring, and I survived the fast. Oh, and I lost a couple of pounds!

Now the rainy season is well and truly upon us. I'm looking forward to spending more time with books, in various formats - audio, Kindle, and (of course) print.

I'm re-"reading" (on audio) Toni Morrison's fourth novel, 'Tar Baby'. It is her only novel to date set mainly outside of the continental US (a pastoral, in genre), and therefore is, georgraphically speaking, literally an outlier. Uniquely among TM novels, the setting is heavily personified, so that the island becomes a 'character'. 'Tar Baby' is Morrison's first novel to be set in contemporary times (the post-Vietnam 70s, contemporary with the time of the book's composition) and her first to include major non-black characters (Valerian Street, the retired candy tycoon, and his wife, the red-headed former Miss Maine, Margaret).

The book has many of the familiar Toni Morrison trademarks: the role of folklore (as in, for example, 'Song of Solomon'), problem mothers, anxiety over skin color (Jadine's, but also Margaret's), and ambivalence toward identity. At the end, as Jadine and Son are drawn inexorably back toward one another, I wonder if the island itself is the 'tar baby' of the title. Anyway, I hope to post a full write-up on the book soon, when I'm finished re-reading it.

Also, I want to get active on Goodreads. (Readers, ping me if you're on Goodreads.)

I'm hopefully close to getting that studio in my old apartment building, which for convenience I'll call the Admiral here.

Okay, now I've got to get to work.
asher553: (Default)
In the midst of what I hope will be my last and final dealings with the Got-Junk people for the foreseeable future, I was weeding through a box of old books for any titles that I might want to save from the discard bin. I actually found one that I'd been looking for just last night: 'Atlantis' by Samuel R. Delany. [http://www.amazon.com/Atlantis-Three-Samuel-R-Delany/dp/0819563129/]

I thought of it because I had started re-reading 'Having Our Say' by the Delany sisters Sadie and Bessie, Harlem centennarians who had lived together for their whole lives. [http://www.amazon.com/Having-Our-Say-Delany-Sisters/dp/0440220424] (Bessie passed on in 1995 and Sadie in 1999.) They were, in fact, aunts to the famous science fiction writer, who was the son of their youngest sibling, Samuel Ray Delany Sr. (1906-1960). The title story (of three) in 'Atlantis' is SRD Jr.'s envisioning of his father's world in 1924. So I thought it would be fun to read them side-by-side to compare these memoirs (in SRD's case, an imagined memoir) from the same era, the same community, and the same family.
asher553: (queen)
http://www.newcriterion.com/articles.cfm/The-snares-of-strategizing-7720

'When I was about twelve, my parents gave me a fifteen-volume set of Compton’s Pictured Encyclopedia. I thought I was supposed to read it straight through, so I did, and then tried to make sense of the whole thing as one big idea. As Abraham Lincoln said, “Those who like this sort of thing will find this the sort of thing they like.” I like this sort of thing.

Sir Lawrence Freedman’s 750-page magnum opus, Strategy: A History, is encyclopedic, although not alphabetical, a pleasure to dip into here and there to get a carefully considered summary briefing on the strategy of the Hebrew Bible, the 1815 Congress of Vienna, Jane Addams, Black Power, or the strange array of social science attempts to redefine human behavior as a contribution to strategy. Everybody talks about strategy, but no one seems to know what it is. But now there are no excuses ...'

With a review like that, how could I NOT order it?

My Dad was on the editorial staff of a book review magazine for the last 30 years of his life, so I always enjoy a good book review.
asher553: (queen)
Well, I can't promise you that this is the solution for your particular problem if you have back pain, but it worked for me and it worked for two other people I recommended it to.

Esther Gokhale - 8 Steps to a Pain-Free Back

I'd been having back pain for years, but for a long time I didn't consider it much more than a nuisance. Then over the last couple of years it became more serious. I was having back spasms where I'd literally fall down on the floor in pain. The worst one kept me on the floor for a half hour, literally unable to move. Bunny was with me, and I couldn't get up to care for her. That was the worst thing.

My feet were hurting too - again, it'd been going on for years, but it didn't become a real problem until my recent gig at Big Pharma, where I was walking an average of 8 miles a day doing office deliveries. This was the plantar fasciitis I posted about earlier.

I had to take a couple of weeks off work to let my feet get better, and I had to figure out what was wrong with me. As providence would have it, I was reading Instapundit and stumbled onto a link to Matt Drudge's post about posture. On the 18th anniversary of his site, Drudge wrote (I'm paraphrasing here) that he had spent many hours sitting at a computer, and his back would be a wreck if it weren't for Gokhale.

That sounded like the solution I was looking for, so I ordered the book immediately. I zeroed in on basically two things I'd been doing wrong, probably for my whole adult life:

(1) I would bend my lower back the wrong way all the time. Your lumbar spine should be curved with the convex side facing the front of your body. If you bend it the other way - in the process of bending your body forward or down, especially if you are putting any weight on it - you are asking for trouble. Your tailbone should always point out, and never be tucked in. Those nice strong muscles on the sides of your lower spine are there for a reason - put them to work. When bending, BEND AT THE HIPS, NOT THE WAIST. Your spine should remain straight - don't be shy about sticking your butt out!

(2) I've had a habit of walking with my toes pointing out, putting the weight on the inside edge of the foot. This, too, is going to hurt you. I had to train myself to keep my toes pointed directly forward, and to get my lazy ankle muscles in the game, putting my weight on the outside edges of my feet. This felt awkward at first - because I'd been doing it wrong for so long! - but I got used to it quickly and started feeling improvement right away.

The results? The back pain stopped IMMEDIATELY. I haven't had a spasm, an ache, or so much as a twinge since I changed my posture. The foot pain took a little longer to clear up but it steadily improved over several weeks, to the point where my feet barely get sore at all. A full work week in the Big Pharma office left my feet tired but not in pain. Sidewalks were the biggest problem, but now even sidewalks don't bother me. I can walk laps around Dolores Park every day and not get sore - that's something I couldn't even think about a few months ago.

So the moral of the story is: If you've been having problems with your back and/or feet, consider that posture might be a factor - and take a look at this book.

Life

Dec. 24th, 2012 05:24 pm
asher553: (asher63)
It's past solstice, the days are getting longer, and I feel like I've turned a corner this past year. My mind turns constantly toward thoughts of the future - particularly my planned move back to Oregon (at long last!) but also my future more generally. Where will I be? What will I be doing? Who will be a part of my life?

Right now I'm sitting on the overstuffed leather couch in my living room. It was a housewarming gift from my good friend B when I first moved into this apartment in September of 2010. It's also my bed. Bunny has the bed in the bedroom, and (mostly) the room itself; she's with me about half the week, and spends the rest of her time with her mom a few blocks away.

Against the opposite wall sits my Oxford English Dictionary across the tops of two small bookcases (the volumes are too tall to fit on the lower shelves), and on the other side of the TV are my Encyclopaedia Britannica and the rest of my books. The Britannica is the 1973 edition, which my family proudly purchased new when I was in grade school. I still use it - and the much newer OED - regularly.

The vintage clock I inherited from my parents still sits atop my tall bookcase. It's silent now just because I needed a break from the ticking and the chimes - I'm very fond of the clock but it is quite loud, and silence is a rare and precious commodity for me. Plus, I sleep in the same room with it, and I need my sleep.

The smells from my kitchen are frozen enchiladas, canned tuna, pasta, and burner spill, but mostly burner spill. At least the place is somewhat clean - last week I broke down and shelled out for a housecleaning service. It was well worth it - unless you're an especially zealous housekeeper, there's always going to be that stain you keep overlooking. And after it's been there long enough, you don't see it anymore.

TNG just stopped by to collect his allowance and say hi. I'm taking him to see 'The Hobbit' tomorrow. He's now 17 years old - how did that happen? - and while I haven't seen as much of him as I would have liked, I'm pleased with the young man that he is becoming.

In just over a month, I'll be turning 50. It's now The Twenty-First Century; it is The Future. I am reminded of that magnificent passage from 'Doorways in the Sand' by Roger Zelazny:
"Back where I left them so many years ago," he went on. "I've a very peculiar feeling now-the thing I set out to analyze tonight. Did you ever look back at some moment in your past and have it suddenly grow so vivid that all the intervening years seemed brief, dreamlike, impersonal-the motions of a May afternoon surrendered to routine?"

"No," I said.

"One day, when you do, remember-the cognac," he said, and he took another sip and passed me the bottle. I had some more and returned it to him.

"They did actually creep, though, those thousands of days. Petty pace, and all that," he continued. "I know this intellectually, though something else is currently denying it. I am aware of it particularly, because I am especially conscious of the difference between that earlier time and this present. It was a cumulative thing, the change. Space travel, cities under the sea, the advances in medicine-even our first contact with the aliens-all of these things occurred at different times and everything else seemed unchanged when they did. Petty pace. Life pretty much the same but for this one new thing. Then another, at another time. Then another. No massive revolution. An incremental process is what it was. Then suddenly a man is ready to retire, and this gives rise to reflection. He looks back, back to Cambridge, where a young man is climbing a building. He sees those stars. He feels the texture of that roof. Everything that follows is a blur, a kaleidoscopic monochrome. He is here and he is there. Everything else is unreal. But they are two different worlds, Fred-two completely different worlds-and he didn't really see it happen, never actually caught either one in the act of going or coming. And that is the feeling that accompanies me tonight."

"Is it a good feeling or a bad one?" I said.

"I don't really know. I haven't worked up an emotion to go with it yet."

And that's the kind of mood I'm in tonight.

For those who are celebrating, merry Christmas. For the rest, happy Chinese food day.
asher553: (Default)
According to this article, "We literally have about a decade before printed books are gone ...'

But trouble lies ahead, because "Amazon's policing problems could get worse."

Fortunately, you can protect yourself. "Second, back up your reader. ..."
asher553: (Default)
I just finished reading "Waiting for the End of the World" (1983) by Madison Smartt Bell. Wow. I'd read it years ago - it was new then! - at Stephanie's recommendation; it was one of her favorites. I loved it the first time around and had had a nagging desire to get my hands on a copy ever since then.

So I think I enjoyed the book even more this time. I really couldn't put it down, or think about much of anything else, for the couple of days it took me to read it.

For the uninitiated: It's a novel about cults, Satan worship, atomic bombs, and spontaneous human combustion. The utterly implausible, completely absurd premise of the story is that a group of psychopathic cult members plot to cause death and destruction on a vast scale in New York City. For the rest of the plot, you'll have to read the book.

(I keep wondering how Madison Smartt Bell ended up with that name. Had the senior Bell been traumatized by schoolyard taunts of "dumb-Bell", and so thought to inoculate his son against such slurs by adding "Smartt" to his name? Hey, I'm no dumbbell, I'm a Smartt Bell!)

I'm enjoying as much alone time as I can get, now that I'm back from my trip. It's a good time to recharge. I have to use most of that alone time to study for my mid-terms, though, which happen the weekend after next. (Oh, and the upcoming weekend features Yom Kippur and then Bunny's birthday party!)

So, a nice mix of much-needed peace and quiet, the diversion of an enjoyable book, and brain-stimulating study.
asher553: (asher63)
Apparently it was a mistake to order "The Modern Hebrew Poem Itself" from Amazon with overnight shipping by FedEx. I normally get my Amazon deliveries (and most of my mail) at my UPS box downtown, but on this particular day the UPS shop opened late, and apparently the idiot FedEx driver wrote "Wrong Address" on the delivery form. Then when FedEx called me and I explained the situation, the idiot FedEx rep said "Oh, is that one a' those lil mailboxes you guys rent? We don't deliver to those." (Apparently this person believes "we guys", the customers, belong to a separate class whose affairs are of little practical concern.) In any case, that's factually untrue, and (as I confirmed with the manager of the UPS shop), FedEx delivers there three times a day.

I then went to order the book from Alexander Book Company, and hoo boy has that place gone downhill. What ever happened to the tall guy with the earring who used to flirt with me? This character who was at the register looked at me like I was spoiling his break. When he did the computer search for the book's title, he couldn't spell "modern", couldn't spell "Hebrew" (even after I spelled it for him), and three times ignored my suggestion to enter the full title (" ... Poem Itself") so as to avoid a lot of irrelevant results with "modern Hebrew" in the title. Grrr.

Anyway, I finally got the book ordered - I think - and they're supposed to call me when it comes in.
asher553: (Default)
via White Pebble
http://www.white-pebble.net/?p=3804

http://www.cnn.com/2007/SHOWBIZ/books/09/07/obit.lengle.ap/index.html?iref=mpstoryview
HARTFORD, Connecticut (AP) — Author Madeleine L’Engle, whose novel “A Wrinkle in Time” has been enjoyed by generations of schoolchildren and adults since the 1960s, has died, her publicist said Friday. She was 88. L’Engle died Thursday at a nursing home in Litchfield of natural causes, according to Jennifer Doerr, publicity manager for publisher Farrar, Straus and Giroux.
asher553: (Default)
I'm planning to post soon on three of my favorite books:

The Caves of Steel by Isaac Asimov - A classic, deservedly so; I love the homoerotic undertones of R. Daneel Olivaw's relationship with Lije Bailey (whom he insists on addressing as "partner Elijah").

The Martian Chronicles by Ray Bradbury - Ditto, of course. This book is a literary masterpiece. I love the symmetry of the structure, and the variations on the "house of mirrors" theme. Particularly haunting is the way the Humans and the Martians never directly interact in the book; they are literally living on the same planet but in different worlds.

National Velvet by Enid Bagnold - This is about so much more than a girl riding a horse. It really is all about gender. I couldn't help thinking that the race was, for Velvet, as much a pretext to "pass" as a boy as anything else. The minor characters are vivid and arresting. Lots of undertones around gender and sexuality here.

Random

Jul. 16th, 2006 01:44 pm
asher553: (Default)
The last open entry was a poem from a collection by Lucy Cooper Summers, called "99 Patches". She was a friend of the family when I was a kid. I managed to rescue her book, among tons of others, from the old house after Mom died. Lucy passed on a couple of years ago. The other day I did an internet search (or "called it up on General Information" as SRD would say) the other day, and discovered that the illustrator of "99 Patches", Lucy's sister Muriel Cooper Clark, just passed on a couple of weeks ago. I followed links and found Muriel's suriving brother-in-law's weblog and sent him a message, which he kindly responded to. Weird world of connections.

The Books

Dec. 21st, 2005 09:45 am
asher553: (Default)
My parents were book fanatics. Bibliophiles. We never threw out books. We had books in every room of the house, except the bathroom. (They must have intuited that there is something disrespectful about taking a book into the bathroom.) Both secular intellectuals, my parents treated every book as if it were the Bible.

I'm the same way. It's almost impossible for me to throw out or recycle a book. (Although I have, under great duress, occasionally been forced to do it. It was excuciating.) When my parents passed on, I inherited the house and their personal belongings, including their book collection. I've managed to keep most of it, or at least a large portion. These include some of my Dad's books from his days at Wesleyan University (where he earned his MA) and my Mom's books of poetry and Russian literature in translation. Among the books from my mother's collection are several titles that she had as a young adult - I know this because the same volumes are pictured in an old photo of the bookshelves in Mom's first apartment.

I have an odd fetish for organizing my books by Library of Congress number. (This fact has provided at least one person with the grist for amusing anecdotes; apparently that was the only thing she got out of our relationship.) Occasionally I'll lie awake and wonder what would happen if I threw caution to the wind and arranged my books in some completely different fashion ... say, Dewey Decimal.

But no. It's gotta be LC, with my "General Works" books (and Mom's) under A, religion in the B's, history under E and F, language and literature under P (lots of those), followed by Q for my science books. So right now I know I can look up and see Starhawk's "Spiral Dance" on the top shelf (BF), right near "A Woman's Kabbalah" by Vivianne Crowley. Middle shelf: end of the P's, with a sci-fi anthology and a collection of lesbian erotica, followed by my Life Science Library books and "The Emperor's New Mind" by Roger Penrose - general science, Q. Bottom shelf: the rest of the Q's, like QA (mathematics) - the Mathematica book and CRC Math Tables; QB (astronomy) with Janna Levin's "How the Universe Got Its Spots" and, from my childhood, Fred Hoyle's "Astronomy" and Harlow Shapley's "Of Stars and Men"; and then QC (physics) with more Penrose, and some of my PSU textbooks (Beiser and Serway/Moyer/Moses).

If only the rest of my life were this orderly.

July 2017

S M T W T F S
      1
2345678
91011 12131415
1617181920 2122
23242526272829
3031     

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 23rd, 2017 06:53 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios