The Reading List: Summer 2016

My reading over the past three or four months has gotten diverted by my Netflix habits (17 seasons of Midsomer Murders and currently indulging in season two of my new favourite, Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries.)

But I have managed to read a few things that might interest any of you wanting a good read. As you may have noticed, I've been pre-occupied lately with murder mysteries, but I managed to get to at least three books from other genres.

The Nest, by Cynthia D'Aprix Sweeney

The Age of Miracles, by Karen Thompson-Walker

Both of these were recommendations from my sister,and I enjoyed both. The Age of Miracles was a bit dark, I thought, but as my sister pointed out, really quite hopeful because of the adaptive abilities of people in the long run.

Inspector Lynley Series, by Elizabeth George:

1. A Great Deliverance
2. Payment in Blood
3. Well Schooled in Murder
4. A Suitable Vengeance
5. For the Sake of Elena
6. Missing Joseph
7. Playing for the Ashes
8. In the Presence of the Enemy
9. Deception on his Mind
10. In Pursuit of the Proper Sinner
11. A Traitor to Memory
12. A Place of Hiding
13. With No One As Witness
14. What Came Before He Shot Her
15. Careless in Red
16. This Body of Death

I find that the Inspector Lynley series is addictive, despite the length of the books, which can run to many hundreds of pages...although some, as always, are better than others. I have a soft spot for DS Barbara Havers, although I want to clean her house and get her a good haircut.

I am currently in the middle/starting of two other books:

Gathering Moss: A Natural and Cultural History of Mosses, by Robin Wall Kimmerer

A Great Reckoning, by Louise Penny (Inspector Gamache series)

I am also psyched to learn that the new Alan Bradley novel in the Flavia de Luce series is about to be released (September 20th), Thrice the Brinded Cat Hath Mew'd. I'll be loading that on my Kindle as soon as possible, Flavia being one of the great child detectives in literature, right up there with Harriet the Spy...one of my childhood favourites.

Happy reading!

Hello, Mr. Harper

(Note: Hello Mr. Harper is based on a true story, but is the product of my own imagination as I have not-- to date -- mastered the art of mind-reading).

The greatest Prime Minister in Canadian history lives down the street. His house is just five houses down and across the street, so I can see his front door when I go outside to get the paper. Not that my wife would agree.  She isn’t so far left that she would vote NDP, but I am certain she voted for that Liberal imp, that scion of that west-hating, national energy program propagator, may there be warts-on-the-tongue-of-your-firstborn, Pierre Elliott Trudeau. If you ask me, those ads were right; he just isn’t ready. I am not sure how I ended up with a leftist wife, but there it is. We can’t always chose who we love.

Every morning, when I get the paper, I glance nonchalantly down the street, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. Not that he is Prime Minister anymore, The Scion of Evil having prevailed, Prime Minister Just…no, I can’t even say it. He still has RCMP protection though, to judge by the black sedans that are often idling in the street. But usually, it’s just me, a little disheveled in my housecoat, and my cat. He  -- my cat -- likes to come out with me to get the paper and feel the breeze, smell the rabbits that nibble on god knows what on our lawn all winter. His whiskers gently vibrate as he tests the air. He isn’t an outside cat, another restriction of my leftist wife. And I think there is a city bylaw too, but if I can blame it on Liberal politics I will.

My wife doesn’t approve of me getting the paper in my housecoat.  I don’t think she’d care if the paper was on the front step, but it never is. I’ve seen the guy who delivers it, early in the morning, and he tosses it on the driveway from the comfort of his car. Of course, she’d really prefer I gave up the paper altogether and got my news online, but I love reading the paper in the morning with my coffee. It’s like time stands still, flipping the pages slowly and reading yesterday’s news. I like to get up early, before I wake her, so I can luxuriate in newsprint.

I dream of what I would say, should I see him one morning. “Hello, Mr. Harper!” I’d wave, casually, and turn away. But he’s a savvy man. He would be able to tell at a glance that he and I are the same, Conservatives to the core, and he would take a few steps in my direction. “Nice morning!” He’d say, and then we’d chat some more, after I’d magically floated the five houses down the block and across the street. Physics says that space and time can bend when the gravity of a body is strong enough, so this could happen, because Mr. Harper is like a small sun. We’d part on a handshake, knowing that we’d chat again tomorrow morning.

I’ve actually met him before, briefly, when we were both students. While president of the UBC campus Conservatives, I shook the hands of the great Conservative politicians Joe Clark and Jean Charest.  I’ve never shaken the hand of Mr. Harper, but we do have ties. He is a good friend of a friend of mine, and he did his master’s degree at the University of Calgary at the same time I did my doctorate. It makes us practically frat brothers.

Yesterday I was waiting in the driveway for my wife, car ready to go. She’s a bit disabled these days, and can’t drive on her own, so I chauffeur as needed. I am just sitting there, waiting, when I glance in the rearview mirror. There’s a guy, in black and a hat, shuffling by the end of the driveway. I don’t pay too much attention, but then a black car also passes, going slowly. I look up and watch, and yes! The man in black turns in at His House. I just missed saying hello to Mr. Harper. I am a bit crushed. My wife gets in the car, and I tell her I’ve just seen Mr. Harper but didn’t realize it until it was too late. She might be Liberal, but she knows this would have meant a lot to me. “I’m sorry, sweetie”. I think about it all the way to the hospital. It’s a missed opportunity, and it throws a grayish tinge over the rest of the day.

For the next few weeks, I keep a sharp eye out. He’s not always there, Mr. Harper. Sometimes I suppose he must go to Ottawa. He’s still a sitting MP, after all, although it must be hard for him to go from Prime Minister to backbench. It’s hard enough for me to watch. Not that I really watch the news these days. My leftist wife spends a lot of her time watching the news, listening to Power and Politics as she recovers from cancer treatments. I didn’t like the previous host, but Rosie Barton seems OK. I am a bit suspicious though, since my wife also likes her. My wife says she’s tough on everyone, but it is just possible Rosie is a closet lefty. Fortunately, I am rarely home when it is on. I also must work.

It’s a cool grey day. My cat – his name is Leo, which my wife tells me is supposed to be short for Leonardo de Vinci, but which was too long for everyday – is practically dancing in his eagerness to go out to get the paper. All I do is call, “Little guy! Time to get the paper!” and he comes running. He’s a smart cat. It’s a good thing doorknobs are round, or he’d be able to get in and out on his own. A lack of opposable thumbs is all that is holding him back. I pick him up, adjusting my housecoat as I go so it doesn’t flap open in the wind. I mean, I do wear boxer shorts, but still. The paper – we get two, actually – is at the end of the driveway. I pad down and bend to pick it up.

“Nice cat”. I hadn’t even noticed the guy walking along the sidewalk, almost right in front of my house. It is Mr. Harper! I do a small dance, in my head. In reality, my feet stay firmly on the cool pavement. I’d forgotten he likes cats, even though (for some unintelligible reason) it’s almost the only thing my wife likes about him. “He likes to get out, does he?” I smile cautiously, but that doesn’t mean much. Most of my smiles are cautious. My wife calls it the “family grimace” since most of my family has the same reaction upon being faced with a camera. Selfie sticks are wasted on us, although might I point out that someone called Justin probably has a few to spare should we ever need to get one. I manage a nod and a brusque “Good morning. Yes, he does”, before the greatest Prime Minister ever continues his walk down the street.

When my wife finally gets out of bed and stumbles down for her café au lait, I make it for her and create a big smile in the foam. At least, she thinks it’s a smile. When you turn the cup 90 degrees, it’s a big Conservative “C”. It’s going to be a great day.

Dear Dingo

I've been trying to write a few short stories -- here is one based on our tip to Australia in 2008. 

The outback. Crocodiles, snakes, spiders. Baby-snatching dingoes. Too much heat. Too little water. This fiercely beautiful land is designed to kill you. Dear dingo, don’t snatch me at Ayer’s Rock.

The red centre of an island continent, the sandstone monolith is a stone dropped in the middle of the desert like a pebble in a pond, creating carnelian ripples of sandy soil. We disembark into the shimmering air and feel the heat envelop us like a dryer-hot blanket. An annoyance of flies swarms around our faces. It is ten o’clock in the morning at Uluru, and it is already nearing 40 degrees Celsius.

We booked a dinner in the outback: The Sounds of Silence promises local specialities, an unparalleled view of Ayer’s Rock in the setting sun, and of the southern night sky. I hope we might see a dingo, but at a distance. Ayer’s Rock and dingoes are entangled in my mind, twin signposts of danger and destination. I hope we don’t see snakes. I dress in cotton pants, sandals, and a light jacket, and take my netted hat to guard against flies.

Sparkling wine and canapés greet us. Our group of forty meanders from the bus to the clearing where the dinner is set, admiring the sunset. The light surfs the reddish-brown sand with a molten wave. We are golden in the long rays of the setting sun, and look better for it. Lines are smoothed, skin perfected. We glow. Dear dingo, where are you? Has the sun or the sand gilded your golden-red fur?

We hold hands as we finish our sparkling wine. There are very few flies, and a few grasshopper-like bugs in the sparse vegetation of the desert. We can hear them, a small rustling song in the desert scrub. Chirp, chirp. The smell of roasting meats lures us on. We find seats at the white-clothed tables, ready for our dinner of kangaroo and crocodile. Our glasses are refilled, this time with cool, sweet white wine. I take a sip and sit back with a sigh of anticipation, listening to the grasshoppers (chirp, chirp) and the sound of laughter. Dear dingo, I don’t see you. Do you dream of cool water or of sweet white wine?

As each table seats eight, we introduce ourselves to those who sit down next to us. “Nice to meet you. I’m Elizabeth, from Canada”. We go through a slow, polite dance of introductions, walking around the table to shake hands with everyone.  And although they all say it’s nice to meet me, we settle down in our original places and continue to talk primarily to the person with whom we arrived. It is a Jane Austen country-dance in the outback, minus the lace and the eighteenth-century manners and with more than a bit of ankle on display. As Mr. Darcy observes, every savage can dance. Dear dingo, you are not here. Are you dancing in the desert?

“Ooh!’ A woman at a nearby table has given a short, sharp cry. We look around, but we don’t see anything amiss. We resume our conversation. “Ooh!” Another woman, at another table, emits the same sharp cry. I wonder if this is a prelude to a show, put on by actors for the benefit of the guests. I’ve been to a show like this, where opera singers are planted in the midst of patrons, and the man next to you, with whom you’ve been chatting, suddenly stands up and belts out something powerful in note-perfect Italian. Or maybe a snake?

The third time, the sharp “ooh!” comes from a woman who stands up and brushes off her clothes. Unlikely to be a snake, then. Maybe a spilled canapé. The woman sits back down. I pick up my wine glass and put it to my lips. “Ooh!”

This time the sharp cry has come from me.

It’s definitely not a show.

I put my glass down hastily. As the sun sinks, the grasshoppers have become bolder, attracted by the candles on the dining tables and other lights on the buffet table. One has dropped into my wine glass and shows no signs of wanting to leave. In Canada, one can drink Grasshopper beer, but it’s just a label on a lager. Here, the grasshopper has invaded the gewürztraminer. Chirp, chirp.

There is a rising crescendo of short, sharp exclamations.  Most, if not all, are from the female guests. My husband is in paroxysms of laughter. He flicks a grasshopper out of his wine and continues to drink it.  My wine has remained untouched since the grasshopper appeared in it, although I’d really like to have a big swig. There are now two grasshoppers in my glass, sitting companionably, side-by-side. A third jumps on my khaki pant leg. Ooh! Flick!

Grasshoppers start landing not only on the table, but on me, and on everyone else, too. “Ooh!” is the new black. Chirp, chirp. Flick, flick. Ooh! When we arrive at the buffet, we find not only grasshoppers, but also moths, attracted by the lamps. My husband piles his plate with crocodile and kangaroo. I take what is not covered in bugs, resulting in a very small helping. “It’s just more protein,” my husband says, unhelpfully. Like Queen Victoria, I am not amused. I snag a new wine glass and try to protect it by draping it with the unlovely hat with the netting, but the grasshoppers simply get tangled in the mesh. I pick up my knife and fork, determined to have some food, but the light is uncertain. I can’t be sure what is food, and what might be volunteer buggy protein. Flick?

I give up.

Then I look up.

The sun has set while we (well, some of us) have eaten. The Milky Way is thick with stars, bright, remote, impossibly clustered into creamy swirls of light in a dark glass bowl. There are more stars than I have seen in a lifetime of city dwelling. My mouth would have fallen open, but I am mindful of the grasshoppers and keep it firmly closed.  Dear dingo, do you suckle at the Milky Way in the dreamtime?

As the diners finish, a star-talker begins to explore the night sky, pointing out planets and constellations. It is so dark and so clear that he uses a powerful flashlight to point out the section of the sky he is explaining, and we can see it outline the area easily. It’s like a laser show in a planetarium, but without the music of Pink Floyd. The chorus of ooh! has almost ceased, as the food on the tables is removed, the lights are turned off, and the attention of both the guests and the grasshoppers is refocused.

The sky here is darker than almost anywhere else on earth, removed from light pollution, and not clouded by humidity. Other places have dark sky preserves, including Jasper National Park and the Cypress Hills in my home province of Alberta. Uluru needs no designation. It’s the ancestor of dark sky. The star-talker points out where the Southern Cross should be, but I confess I don’t see it. It must be small. There is a dingo, though: Canis Major roams the southern sky. “Where is the Great Grasshopper?”  I whisper to my husband.  Shhhh.

While we gape at the stars and take our turns at the telescope, someone begins to play the didgeridoo. The music vibrates through the air, through the soil, through my skin. It’s enthralling, as if the throbbing howl is coming from the mouth of the earth. (Drone, moan, throb). There are rocks at the base of Uluru itself, which, carved by wind and weather into hollow swirls and half-tubes, some painted with pictographs, could be instruments for such a sound. Later in our trip my husband goes into a shop and comes back with his own didgeridoo. It proves impossible to pack and must be shipped home, all four and a half feet of hollow wooden tube. Moan. Dear dingo, which came first, your howl or the didgeridoo?  Or does a circle have no beginning?

It’s time to leave. I am still hungry. I think longingly of breakfast and wonder if I will dream of dingoes. A pack of wolves. A dreaming of dingoes? We trek back to the bus, me clutching my netted hat. I’ll need it tomorrow for the flies. I sit down. “Ooh!” I’ve inadvertently brought two hitchhiking grasshoppers onto the bus, trapped in the netting. Chirp, chirp. Everyone laughs. My husband rescues the stowaways and turfs them back into the desert. Flick, flick.  Dear dingo, do you dine on grasshopper? Meet me at Ayer’s Rock.

The Reading List

I've been recovering from cancer treatments, and reading is part of my therapy. I can't bear anything too graphic, so I've been indulging in old British murder mysteries, young adult fiction, and a few other genres.

Ellis Peters
Written between 1977 and 1994, the Brother Cadfael books feature a murder-mystery solving Benedictine monk in the twelfth century. The background events are historically accurate -- a civil war between King Stephen and his cousin, the Empress Maud (Matilda). All the books share a common plot, so don't read them for novelty -- murder, boy in trouble, boy meets girl, boy wins girl. But I came to love the quiet rhythm of Brother Cadfael's musings, the tread of his sandals on the stone of the Foregate and the Abbey, and the smell, quite real, of his herb garden.

• A Morbid Taste for Bones
• One Corpse Too Many
• Monk's Hood
• St. Peter's Fair
• The Leper of St. Giles
• The Virgin in the Ice
• The Sanctuary Sparrow
• The Devil's Novice
• Dead Man's Ransom
• The Pilgrim of Hate
• An Excellent Mystery
• The Raven in the Foregate
• The Rose Rent
• The Hermit of Eyton Forest
• The Confession of Brother Haluin
• A Rare Benedictine
• The Heretic's Apprentice
• The Potter's Field
• The Summer of the Danes
• The Holy Thief
• Brother Cadfael's Penance

Esi Edugyan

A Canadian author, this book won the 2011 Scotiabank Giller Prize. A tale set in pre-war Berlin and moving to Paris, it follows a group of musicians and their struggle to survive, musically and physically, during the war and after.

• Half-Blood Blues

Charlie Holmberg

Charlie Holmberg is the author of The Paper Magician trilogy. A series for young adults, the books are clever and present a new world aligned with the one we know. Ceony, Emery and the cast of supporting characters will charm and help to convince you that magic is real.

• The Paper Magician
• The Glass Magician
• The Master Magician

Jonas Jonasson

Two unusual books -- one has been made into a movie. A bit long in the middle, but decent reads.

• The 100-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared
• The Girl Who Saved the King of Sweden

Elena Ferrante

"Elena Ferrante" is a pseudonym for an author who does not want to be identified. Her Neapolitan Novels are a series of four books, only three of which I have read. Highly detailed, the writing is skillful and evocative. That said...I can't think of a single character in the books that I actually like. But they are worth reading.

• My Brilliant Friend
• The Story of a New Name
• Those Who Leave and Those Who Stay

Josephine Tey

Josephine Tey is also a pseudonym for this Scottish author, whose novels are set in the 1930-1940's. I remember being given her novel, The Daughter of Time, as a book to read while studying for my degree in history.

• The Franchise Affair
• The Man in the Queue

Fly in the Face of Tradition

In the aftermath of the recent Canadian election, two petitions have begun to circulate online. The first is a petition to name the Calgary International Airport (YYC) after outgoing Conservative Prime Minister Stephen Harper. The second is one to prevent this happening. (I also saw the suggestion that a waste dump be named after him, which goes to show the extremely strong emotions the election raised).

When I look at the major/semi-major airport names in Canada, if they have been named after a person, they have been named after a man:

• Billy Bishop airport (Toronto city)
• Stanfield (Halifax)
• Trudeau (Montreal)
• Diefenbaker (Saskatoon)
• Pearson (Toronto)
• Erik Nielsen (Whitehorse)
• James Armstrong Richardson (Winnipeg)
• John Munro (Hamilton)
• Chris Hadfield (Sarnia)
• MacDonald Cartier (Ottawa)

I can't actually think of a major US airport named after a woman, either.

Let's fly in the face of tradition, which is becoming a Calgary tradition...after all, we did elect the first Muslim mayor in North America (who was recently awarded the honour of the World's Best Mayor). If the Calgary airport gets named, let's name it after a woman. I can think of some awesome ones, especially the Famous Five, solo or chorus: Emily Murphy, Irene Parlby, Nellie McClung, Louise McKinney and Henrietta Muir Edwards. The Famous Five International Airport?

Update: Someone has suggested another possibility, Pincher Creek, Alberta native Chief Justice Beverly McLachlin of the Supreme Court of Canada

Food Fest!

Hospital food is not the best, to put it mildly. And when you are prone to vomiting anyway from all the chemo, the mere whiff of something strong (broccoli and pork, I mean YOU...and sometimes chicken...) can send you reeling. I lost 30 pounds during my chemo off of a 135-pound frame, partly because I had no appetite and partly because the food, if I felt like eating (which wasn't often), was so awful. For a while I had to have a feeding tube just to make sure I got some nutrition, both on life support and off of it when I fortunately didn't need life support anymore. I remember at least once that neither the nurse nor I could identify the main ingredient in what looked like some kind of stew. I lived -- barely -- off of mushroom soup, cereal, yogurt and vast quantities of orange juice, supplemented by the barely-tolerable Ensure for extra calories and vitamins.

So, now that I am home and able to cook -- and eat!-- again, I am rediscovering the joy of good food!

With websites such as Epicurious and foodie magazines, good, simple recipes with fresh ingredients are easy to come by. Here are a few that I've tried in the past few months that are repeat-worthy.

Salmon Chowder
The recipe is easy and tasty, but I do modify it somewhat by adding shellfish (shrimp, scallops) and/or whitefish in addition to the salmon. With the shellfish, I call it Two Ocean Chowder...Three Ocean Chowder if I use arctic char as the whitefish. I've also used canned corn instead of frozen. It reminds me of my brother-in-law who hails from New Brunswick, although his chowder isn't made with salmon or shellfish, just whitefish. Serve it with a fresh baguette.
http://www.epicurious.com//recipes/food/views/salmon-chowder-238699

Home-made Gnocchi
I had never made gnocchi before, but I was going through a period where it was hard to stomach meat. These potato snippets turned out pillowy soft, and I got to buy my very first potato-ricer. I had first read about a potato ricer when I was about 10, from a reference in the LM Montgomery book Jane of Lantern Hill, but I had never met one in person until now. http://www.bonappetit.com/recipe/gnocchi-with-sage-butter-and-parmesan

Peach Crisp
The recipe says to make it in a cast-iron skillet, but as it goes in the oven and my great-grandmother's cast iron skillet has a wooden handle, I did this in a casserole dish and it was still tasty. I have however since purchased an all-metal cast-iron skillet and plan to use it next time. It's supposed to caramelize the peaches.
http://www.bonappetit.com/recipe/iron-skillet-peach-crisp

Shrimp Pad Thai
I always loved Pad Thai, and this is both easy and tasty. Shrimp was also easier on my stomach than meat.
http://www.epicurious.com//recipes/food/views/shrimp-pad-thai-for-two-51206850

Chocolate Plum Cake
I didn't know what to expect from this recipe, but it turned out moist and dense, sort of like a fruity chocolate brownie. It was delicious and not terribly sweet like some chocolate cakes. It is seasonal, because you have to use fresh plums and puree them, and you can't get plums -- at least not here -- year round.
http://www.epicurious.com//recipes/food/views/chocolate-plum-cake-56390135

Chocolate Pudding
This is incredibly easy. When I made it for a family get-together, my nephews and niece voted it Best Dessert Ever, and two of them actually asked if I would teach them to make it. I did swap out the vanilla for Grand Marnier in the pudding (and increased the amount) as well as in the whipped cream topping. It is incredibly rich and extremely sweet so a small serving goes a long way.
http://www.epicurious.com//recipes/food/views/chocolate-puddings-with-orange-whipped-cream-364092

Flank-steak with Corn Salsa
OK, this one is a bit hot, as in spicy. After chemo, my taste buds are pretty sensitive (alcohol and sometimes even sugar burn) so if you are also sensitive to spicy food, reduce the cayenne pepper by quite a lot. But it is delicious and again, really easy. My husband loved this one. Instead of fresh corn, I used frozen and "grilled" it in a cast-iron pan before adding it to the salsa.
http://www.bonappetit.com/recipe/dry-rubbed-flank-steak-with-grilled-corn-salsa

Pho
Vietnamese noodle soup is one of my husband's favourites, so I decided to try a recipe I saw in House Beautiful magazine's October 2015 edition (I subscribe to Texture by Next Issue on my iPad, so I have access to a lot of digital magazines). The recipe's creator is John Besh. I can't find a link to the recipe, but you sautee green onions, garlic, ginger and Chinese 5-spice powder in sesame oil, then add chicken broth. Meanwhile, cook some beef (I used grilled flank steak), slice it thinly, and place it on top of cooked rice noodles in a bowl, then top with the broth and some fresh-squeezed lime juice. Add fresh cilantro, basil, sprouts, hoisin sauce and chile paste to taste. It smells great and tastes good too.

Happy eating!

The Book List

Six months in a hospital and several more recovering at home leave you lots of time to read. Here are some of the books I've read in that time...the focus was mostly on "light" both in weight and in topic. The first  -- physically light -- was necessary as I was recovering from critical illness weakness, a curious and not-very-well-understood malady that sometimes steals all strength from your muscles after a stint on life support. It stole my ability to walk – temporarily, fortunately -- but the moment I could hold a book, I was reading again. The second – light in topic – was necessary after recovering from chemo treatments that left me in search of distraction, and something I could pick up again easily after a nap. I am also what has been described as a “hybrid” reader – I read both on my e-reader and actual paper books.

There might be some books on this list you haven't read and might like to. I've put them into categories: New to Me, Enjoyable Piffle, Comfort Classics, and Books I Started and Couldn't Finish.

New to Me 

These include the good, the bad, the ugly and the plain indifferent, in my own opinion of course…some I didn’t like have won awards elsewhere. Some were sent to me by friends, some recommended by family.

Margaret McMillan
Margaret MacMillan is a celebrated historian, and her books are intricate stories of the people who shaped the modern world. I am a bit of a history buff but even so, the length of her books is daunting. The books are very thorough portraits of the people and their critical interactions, and quite intense. I started with History’s People as it looked “lighter”…and it was, in both style and length.
• History’s People
• The War That Ended Peace 

Terry Fallis
Terry Fallis is a Canadian writer who has won the Stephen Leacock Medal for Humour twice, Stephen Leacock being a renowned Canadian humourist, and who was the most widely-read English novelist in the early 1900’s.
• The Best-Laid Plans. This is the first of two books with the same characters – the second is The High Road – and is a tongue-in-cheek take on fictitious Canadian politics.)
• The High Road
• Up and Down. Really funny. This one follows two people, one Canadian and one American, chosen as citizen astronauts in a NASA competition.

Gail Carriger
Gail Carriger has created a steampunk world. The world is the same for both her young adult (beginning with Etiquette and Espionage) and adult offerings (beginning with Soulless…part of what is known as the Parasol Protectorate series). I thought her world was interesting, if odd…but I did not read all the books in either series as I got a bit tired of the premise.
• Etiquette and Espionage
• Curtsies and Conspiracies
• Waistcoats and Weaponry
• Soulless
• Changeless

Patrick Rothfuss
These two books are in the fantasy genre and were surprisingly good. The writing, particularly in the first book, is excellent. These are the first two books in a planned three-book series…if he ever gets around to writing the third one.
• The Name of the Wind
• The Wise Man’s Fear

Sue Grafton
Sue Grafton’s Alphabet series is “ok”. They all have the same structure, and only the scenarios differ. They are, however, short and snappy. I could read two of these a day quite easily. I didn’t read “P” because it was for some reason twice as expensive as the others to download on my e-reader, and I never made it past Q anyhow because I finally got bored.
• A is for Alibi
• B is for Burglar
• C is for Corpse
• D is for Deadbeat
• E is for Evidence
• F is for Fugitive
• G is for Gumshoe
• H is for Homicide
• I is for Innocent
• J is for Judgment
• K is for Killer
• L is for Lawless
• M is for Malice
• N is for Noose
• O is for Outlaw
• Q is for Quarry

Michael Chabon
Michael Chabon’s two books share a similar style, not surprisingly, but are two very different worlds. The Yiddish Policeman’s Union is an alternative history of Jewish settlement after World War II, set in Alaska and spiced up with detective fiction. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay won the Pullitzer Prize, and it inhabits New York City during the golden age of comic books.
• The Yiddish Policeman’s Union
• The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay

Elly Griffiths
Elly Griffiths has written an enjoyable, generally non-gory mystery series using a “forensic archeologist” amateur detective.
o The Outcast Dead
o A Dying Fall
o A Room Full of Bones
o The House at Sea’s End
o The Janus Stone
o The Crossing Places
o The Ghost Fields

Louise Penny
Louise Penny is a Canadian writer. Some books in the series are better than others. The series is generally set in a fictional Quebecois border town called Three Pines, with Montreal detectives. I actually like the 2-3 books set outside of Three Pines best.
• The Long Way Home
• How the Light Gets In
• The Beautiful Mystery
• A Trick of the Light
• The Brutal Telling
• Bury Your Dead
• The Murder Stone
• Still Life

Alan Bradley
I read the most recent book in the young adult Flavia de Luce series. My niece lent it to me, but I actually own the others as I love young Flavia. The others I have read include The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie, The Weed That Strings the Hangman’s Bag, A Red Herring Without Mustard, I Am Half-Sick of Shadows, Speaking From Among the Bones, and The Dead in Their Vaulted Arches.
• As Chimney Sweepers Come to Dust

One-Offs

The following titles are either one-off’s or in a series from which I selected only one book to read…in a couple of cases, I read two, hoping they would improve.
• A Desperate Fortune, Susanna Kearsley (This is the latest offering from the Canadian mystery/romance writer. She typically mixes fictional historical happenings with modern characters as well as a touch of the supernatural. The settings vary from Wales to France. I’ve previously read some of the others, including Mariana, Named of the Dragon, The Winter Sea, The Splendour Falls, The Shadowy Horses, and Season of Storms. A light, enjoyable read.)
• The Heart Has It’s Reasons, Maria Duenos (Ok. Its not one of those reads you simply can’t put down, but it’s pretty good. I kept wondering if it was in translation from Spanish, but I don’t think it was.)
• Princess Elizabeth’s Spy, Susan Elia MacNeal (Thumbs down)
• Mr. Churchill’s Secretary, Susan Elia MacNeal (Thumbs down)
• Childe Morgan, Katherine Kurtz (Thumbs down. Katherine Kurtz was a pioneering writer in the fantasy genre, but this read less like fantasy and more like a tame historical fiction bodice-ripper.)
• In the King’s Service, Katherine Kurtz (Thumbs down)
• The Wind in the Willows, Kenneth Grahame (So good! My sister-in-law’s cottage is called “Mole End” and now I know why. Poop poop!)
• The Luminaries, Eleanor Catton (Ok but a bit pointless. This one won the Man Booker Prize. I kept waiting for it to get down to business, but in the end it’s just a good yarn.)
• Pluto Rising, Karen Irving (good. Full disclosure: This book was written by the wife of a good friend of mine. I am not sure if it is still in print or not. It's also a little dated due to numerous technology references, but I still enjoyed it.)
• The Carbon Bubble, Jeff Rubin (Good. For those interested in climate change and how business and individuals might benefit, this is a good read. I thought there was one inconsistency in his argument, but the book was both enjoyable and thought-provoking.)
• To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee (Good! I can’t believe I’ve never read it before. I finally feel I can understand all the cultural references to Atticus and Scout Finch. Go Set a Watchman is now on my pile of books to read next.)
• The Buried Giant, Kazuo Ishiguri (I did not like this, but it got great reviews. Nothing. Ever. Happens….princess.)
• Us Conductors, Sean Michaels (I did not like this, but it won the Giller Prize. It annoyed me so much I didn’t bother reading the last few pages.)
• The Golden Spruce, John Valiant (LOVE. My aunt recommended this to me so I gave it a shot. The writing is outstanding.)
The Gallery of Lost Species, Nina Berkhout. (I had forgotten I read this, but I enjoyed it).
• The Winter’s Tale, William Shakespeare (The Bard. I am unworthy to comment.)

Piffle, but Enjoyable Piffle

This category should just be called “Victoria Clayton books”. They are generally set in the 1970’s United Kingdom. I like them because they are just what I call piffle, but enjoyable piffle. They require very little, if any, serious thought. They are also a bit formulaic. My favourite is Running Wild. A nice element is that she carries characters over from book to book, so that the main character in one is often seen as an ancillary character in the next.
• Dance With Me
• Running Wild
• Past Mischief
• Out of Love
• Clouds Amongst the Stars
• Stormy Weather

My “Comfort Classics”

I read these books – again – because they were familiar, and I liked them the first time round. Some were books I first read in elementary school. They cover a variety of genres, from science fiction and fantasy to mystery and just plain fiction. They are mostly fun and effortless to read, although I think Tolkien might be an acquired taste for some.

JK Rowling
I was introduced to this series in the year 2000, and quickly became a rabid fan of this engaging world.
• Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone
• Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets
• Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
• Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
• Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
• Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince
• Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows


JRR Tolkien
I first read The Hobbit when I was about nine or ten years old, and The Lord of Rings trilogy soon after. I make a point of re-reading them every so often. I can actually quote some sections, to the disgust of my scientist husband who refuses to read them.
• The Fellowship of the Ring
• The Two Towers
• The Return of the King
• The Hobbit

CS Lewis
This time, I read the CS Lewis books on my e-reader. The versions I downloaded had several errors, some of them large and glaring such as missing pages, in each book. If you’ve never read them before, it might be worth getting paper books to avoid this. I did not read two of the books, The Last Battle and The Magician’s Nephew.
• The Lion the Witch, and the Wardrobe
• Prince Caspian
• The Voyage of the Dawn Treader
• The Horse and His Boy
• The Silver Chair

Marion Zimmer Bradley
Marion Zimmer Bradley writes the Arthurian legends from the point of view of the women, and it’s magical. I re-read the first one this time, but there are others in the series. This was the best one in my opinion.
• The Mists of Avalon

Anne McCaffrey
Anne McCaffrey created the world of Pern. As a teen, I loved the planet Pern and its’ teleporting, metasynth dragons.
• Dragonflight
• Dragonquest
• The White Dragon
• All the Weyrs of Pern
• The Dragonriders of Pern

LM Montgomery
As a Canadian girl, the LM Montgomery books were practically required reading. I re-read the Anne books, although I actually prefer some of her other books, including the Emily series (Emily of New Moon, Emily Climbs and Emily’s Quest).
• Anne of Green Gables
• Anne of Avonlea
• Anne of the Island
• Anne of Windy Poplars
• Anne’s House of Dreams
• Anne of Ingleside
• Rilla of Ingleside
• Jane of Lantern Hill (This is a one-off, and quite delightful).

Katherine Kurtz
Katherine Kurtz was a pioneer writer in the fantasy genre. This might have been the first book published as such, and I re-read it to remind me of her world of the Eleven Kingdoms.
• Deryni Rising

Mary Stewart
Mary Stewart wrote many books. I re-read both her excellent series based on the Arthurian legends and her mid-century mystery-romance books.
• The Crystal Cave (The Crystal Cave, The Hollow Hills and The Last Enchantment are based on the Arthurian legends. There is a fourth book that I did not re-read, The Wicked Day).
• The Hollow Hills
• The Last Enchantment

These books by Mary Stewart are period pieces, set in the mid-century (i.e. 1940’s). I simply like the style, and the locations…especially the ones set in Greece. Others are set in France, Lebanon, England, Austria, and the Hebrides.
• The Moonspinners
• This Rough Magic
• Thunder on the Right
• Madam, Will You Talk?
• Nine Coaches Waiting
• The Gabriel Hounds
• Wildfire at Midnight
• Touch Not the Cat
• My Brother Michael
• Airs Above the Ground
• The Ivy Tree

Jane Austen
Jane Austen is probably my favourite writer, and Pride and Prejudice possibly my favourite book. I think I was named after the main character.
• Pride and Prejudice
• Sense and Sensibility
• Persuasion
• Mansfield Park (I always get annoyed with Fanny in the book. I much prefer the film version with Frances O’Connor).

Books I Started and Couldn’t Finish

Sometimes I encounter a book that I can’t finish. I simply am uninterested in what happens next. This is probably my issue rather than that of the authors, and people I know and admire recommended these books and liked them.
• Life After Life, Kate Atkinson
• The Girl on the Train, Paula Hawkins