What Are You Reading

[Zombie_61]

Sometime in May I stopped into a local bookstore to see what was collecting dust on their shelves, and I found a book titled "Rolling Nowhere - Riding the Rails with American's Hoboes" by an author named Ted Conover. This is one of those travelogues written by a younger man with questions about what it might be like to take a trip through the U.S. on a freight train. Hardly a "Depression Era" book (the first year mentioned on the copyright page is 1981), but at least it seems to be describing the adventure in the words of a young man discovering the good and bad about riding a freight train St. Louis, Missouri to...well, I haven't come close to finishing the book yet, so...

 

[TheEnglishSwede]

I recently finished Kafka on the Shore. Overall, I found it to be a thoughtful and engaging book. I have passed it on to my wife — though I’m not entirely sure she’ll end up reading it.

There was some animal cruelty in it, I decided that I couldn't read that part and skipped the rest of that chapter. I'm not really sure how much those few pages or what happened in them would add to the rest of the book. Perhaps knowing that it was there was in the book was enough of a shock or knowledge for me as a reader about a character, as apposed to a brief mention that a character was doing some rather nasty stuff to animals.

Murakami can write beautifully at times, but his intimate scenes — in this book and others — often feel awkward or out of place. I’m clearly not the only one who thinks so, considering he’s been nominated for a “bad *** writing” award. I have found an interview where he discusses this aspect of his writing, and I’m curious to see how he approaches those moments.

/Mike

 

[TheEnglishSwede]

One of my colleagues at work recommended The Magician by Raymond Feist and said they absolutely love the whole series. I’m not usually big on fantasy — the Discworld books by Terry Pratchett are pretty much the only ones I’ve really gotten into — but I figured I’d give this a shot since I’ve got a bit of extra time at the moment.

The first half was pretty slow, and I had to push myself through some of the world‑building, but things definitely picked up in the second half. As for the last third, I honestly couldn’t put it down. I noticed Feist has written a ton of other books, so I guess I’ll have to chat with my colleague before deciding whether I want to dive down the rabbit hole of the rest of this series or the other series.

/Mike

 

[TheEnglishSwede]

I’m currently dipping into The Two Towers by Tolkien. I know the Lord of the Rings books pretty well, and I tend to use them as “filler reads” when I’m between other books or need something to read on the bus.

Currently I’m waiting for two books to arrive. The first is Galahad and the Grail by Malcolm Guite. I’ve followed Malcolm on YouTube for quite a while and always find him interesting to listen to, so I’ve got high hopes for the book. As an occasional pipe smoker myself, I’m pretty sure I’ll get a pipe going when I sit down to start it.

The second is Tales of Moonlight and Rain by Ueda Akinari. Murakami mentioned it in Kafka on the Shore, and unlike Malcolm’s book, this one is coming from the local library. I often look up the books or music Murakami references, so some old‑fashioned Japanese ghost stories sound interesting.

/Mike

 

[Harp]

Currently I’m waiting for two books to arrive. The first is Galahad and the Grail by Malcolm Guite. I’ve followed Malcolm on YouTube for quite a while and always find him interesting to listen to, so I’ve got high hopes for the book. As an occasional pipe smoker myself, I’m pretty sure I’ll get a pipe going when I sit down to start it.
/Mike

Malcolm is a calming presence, and, his lighter flash flame to pipe bowl quite articulated wrist
twist nonchalance par excellence. I like the way he opens the door to usher the visitor-us-inside
his study. The room's disarray unkempt sloven studiousness is genuine scholarship dashing
insouciance personified....

Winchester's The Professor and The Madman nicely dovetails HL Mencken's classic,
The American Language, which 4th Edition circa 1931 or so I own and occasionally consult or read
for pleasure when my curiosity is peaked by some lexicon reason. The attempt to corral the
English language in its entirety astonishes the mind for ambition and scope, so thanks again for
remarking Winchester's glimpse into lexical history.

 

[TheEnglishSwede]

Malcolm is a calming presence, and, his lighter flash flame to pipe bowl quite articulated wrist
twist nonchalance par excellence. I like the way he opens the door to usher the visitor-us-inside
his study. The room's disarray unkempt sloven studiousness is genuine scholarship dashing
insouciance personified....

I really do love his room, even with all its chaos. I just hope he has some kind of system and isn’t relying on sheer luck every time he needs to find something. For anybody who has not seen it here is Malcolm's Youtube channel https://www.youtube.com/@MalcolmGuitespell

I’m really enjoying the book, and often find myself laughing at some of the verses. It is a book that you have to read out loud to get the full effect, because of that, it will take me a bit longer to finish — I don’t want to disturb my better half so I am reading in the garden. Honestly, I don’t mind; it makes me slow down and savour the writing, I can also take the opportunity to get one of my pipes lit.

The illustrations are a lovely touch, even if (to me) they feel a little dark at times. It is clear that a great deal of time and effort has gone into the book by all those involved. I know that I will be getting the next books in the series.

I do hope that Malcolm will not mind me posting a few pictures to give people to get a little taste of the magic to be found on these pages - FYI the ISBN is 9781786227126.









/Mike

 

[Harp]

Malachi Martin's Windswept House. Ceased to first read Robert Marro's Malachi Martin; in the shadow of the Vatican, which essentially proved error replete worthless sop.

Martin was something of a mixed bag with approximately 65% veracity tinged a thirty-five
percent lackadaisical limbo larceny, which frankly spoiled what appears serious scholarship
at first glance. However, a too secularized Jesuit scholastic stray is rather sop****ric when considered from a Cartesian agnostic perspective. Martin is a ******* renegade.

Nota bene: This site's corrective software is ridiculous

 

[Fading Fast]

Hotel by Arthur Hailey, originally published in 1965


Critics did not like Arthur Hailey's novels the way most critics don't like any wildly popular authors who haven't been dead for centuries, in part because if they agree with public opinion, why would we even need critics? We could just put out top-ten or top-hundred lists and move on.

Hailey's formulaic approach – take an industry, dissect it, build a series of interlocking melodramas around it, and smash them all together in a nail-biting climax – was dismissed by literary critics but beloved by the millions and millions of readers who bought his books.

Hollywood, too, voted with its pocketbook, not its artistic sensitivities (stop laughing), and turned several of Hailey's books into movies or TV shows – most of which were successful because Hailey had one key talent critics never fully respect: he is an outstanding storyteller.

In Hotel, the story is about a famous New Orleans luxury hotel, the St. Gregory, that is getting a bit worn at the edges and losing its elite status because its aging owner, Warren Trent, resists the changes his young senior manager, Peter McDermott, argues are necessary to survive.

With a large mortgage coming due and the bank unwilling to roll it over – the St. Gregory is not making money and its balance sheet is ugly – and Trent unable to find anyone else to loan him the money, a hotel-chain mogul, Curtis O'Keefe, is offering to buy the hotel.

Proving that little is new – one of the unsung values of fiction – there is a faction that hates the increased market share of chain hotels like O'Keefe's because they have no real charm or local color. It's the same argument made against chains today as part of the "shop local" campaign.

As is Hailey's wont, O'Keefe himself is quite a character: he prays on his knees in private, all but asking God to give him business success; he has a wonderfully offbeat woman "traveling companion" in the adjoining suite; and he is ruthlessly pragmatic in his decision-making.

Hailey uses the coming crisis of the mortgage payment to take a detailed look at the hotel in the week leading up to its due date. It's a fun trip to the late 1960s, but not, thankfully, to look again at the youth "rebellion," but the business of running a hotel.

Hailey is too smart a storyteller, though, to make this a business book; instead, it's an insightful and engaging giant soap opera where issues of the day – racial tensions are high in New Orleans – play out in small and not-that-small personal dramas.

What happens when an eminent black dentist and keynote speaker at a conference at the hotel is denied his room reservation because he's black? The tensions amp up for all the right reasons – most people are offended – plus hotels can't survive without convention business.

English royalty is staying at the hotel, when it hadn't yet become just a punchline or fodder for social media, which becomes a bigger issue when the Duke and Duchess are involved in a hit-and-run accident... and possible cover-up.

There is a romance between McDermott and Christine, the personal secretary to Trent – which makes her a prominent and powerful-by-proxy member of the staff. But McDermitt is also being courted by a younger socialite, which drives Christine mad with hidden jealousy.

Throughout, Hailey sprinkles in insights and details about running a hotel - kitchens the size of basketball courts, a complex array of very old elevator banks that keep a staff of engineers busy, the aforementioned financial problems, and guest issues that ricochet all day long.

If you are in a forgiving mood, Hailey is a bit like an inverted David McCullough. McCullough wrote history books that read like novels, whereas Hailey writes novels with a lot of history and facts. It's an imperfect analogy, but his books are entertaining and educational.

Books like Hotel will never please the critics, but the important thing is they please their readers. Many age well, too, as they are still good stories, but also become cultural time capsules that live in a way documentaries and newspapers never quite can.

The best compliment you can pay an author is by looking to buy another of his books when you finish one. If the genre in general is to your liking, there's a good chance you'll be doing just that after reading Hotel.

 

[Harp]

Paul Moon, The Racing Horse; a personal journey inside horse racing betting over fifty six years.

Misery loves company; or rather when your accountant is a brother-in law who doesn't and never has understood you, occasional literary retreat towards more conducive collegial comprehension
beckons heart and soul succor. If horses are in your blood, there it is. I've bet GI Bill money; rent money; money yet made; putting skin in the game and azz on the line for class, form, and speed across nationwide thoroughbred venues. Loved all of it, win, lose, or scratched. A literary review memoir most welcome.

 

[Tiki Tom]

Am 50 pages into “Barchester Towers” (1857) by Anthony Trollope. Yet another take on the Victorian novel.

When the old beloved Bishop dies, a power struggle breaks out in that (fictional) cathedral town. “High church” and “low church” factions within the Church of England go into battle, backed by their labour or Torrey supporters. Ambition, envy, greed, snobbery, and vanity lead otherwise good people into combat over a slew of necessary appointments, etc. The battle fields are dinner parties and social gatherings.

Sounds dull, eh? Actually it’s not. Trollope has a spot on talent for characterization and his very low key sense of humor fits the ludicrousness of the whole situation. There is hardly a human foible that escapes his sharp eye. In fact, reviews call the book a masterpiece of English comedy. (Ha ha. High Church is “bells and smells”. )

Also, from a modern point of view, I watch the political maneuvering and wonder if anything has changed.

I’m enjoying it so far. The writing is beautiful in a Victorian sort of way, and the humor is gentle and understated. The characters are very recognizable. (Also I’m learning a lot about the Church of England!). However, be forewarned: it’s not a fast-paced yarn. Entertaining, but in a quiet way.

 

[Tiki Tom]

^^^^
Just finished Barchester Towers (525 pages).
What a fun book! That is perhaps strange, because —in terms of plot— very little happens. Yet, despite this, the book has hardly a dull moment. Who needs Machiavelli when you can watch this gang of colorful characters as they cold-bloodedly plot against each other? Be it self serving efforts to fill a post, or cynical schemes to romantically embarrass a foe, the right honorable reverends (and their wives) have their knives out and play like chess grand masters. At the end, all disputes are satisfactorily settled; although you are left wondering what the heck, exactly, were they fighting about?

This book is usually referred to as a comedy, but I’d be hesitant to agree. It’s humorous, but the wit is probably too dry and too under-stated for modern tastes. It will get smiles of recognition out of you, but don’t expect LOL moments.

Great book. Glad I read it.

 

[Harp]

^ Trollope, I recall, wrote during early morning hours before the 9-5er took hold.
Amazing. A night owl, dawn reveille writ routine amazes me. I need copious coffee,
adequate breakfast, and big band swing music to gradually focus semblance of rational
thought.

 

[Fading Fast]

The Edge by D*ck Francis originally published in 1988


Regular readers know that you need a few books around to occupy you while deciding on your next real read: a not-serious or fluffy book to read between your more challenging or engaging ones. Like reading a Clive Cussler "spy novel" between Faulkner and Wharton tomes.

The Edge by D*ck Francis sounds like it would fit the bill for railroad and horse-racing fans, and it somewhat does, but it never rises to the pure page-turner fun one wants from his "book between books" read: it is fine, but it never completely engages you.

Francis, who passed away in 2010 (his son has continued writing similar novels), made a career of banging out mystery stories around horse racing – he wrote nearly forty in all – but this is his only truly train-oriented one. For railfans, its train focus is uneven, but it nails it a few times.

Jumping ahead in the plot, if you are a railfan, look for the sequence in which the hero – owing to a breakdown in modern communications – has to use flares to prevent a collision, including running back a mile and forcing the spike end of one of the flares into the tracks' wood ties.

As to that plot itself, Tor Kelsey is an undercover agent for the British Jockey Club, which polices illegal gambling, doping, and other activities that violate the rules, laws, and spirit of British horse racing. There are or were back then, amazingly, real-life equivalents to Kelsey.

Francis is English, which means he's writing in the great tradition of the English mystery novel – an esteemed genre in which the story's algebraic, nay, calculus plot complexity is part of the appeal – so unless you are a trained reader of the genre, it's better to just go along for the ride.

There are too many characters, too many twists, and too many threads for the average reader to keep them all straight – and there's no handy-dandy chart or guide in the front to help. The best approach is to read it without trying to figure it out or you'll spend the book in knots.

As to that plot, here goes: Kelsey is sent incognito as a waiter on a special train, the Great Transcontinental Mystery Race Train, whose purpose is to promote Canadian Thoroughbred racing through a cross-country rail journey tied to several major races. Kelsey's job is to suss out who is involved in a suspected sabotage plot and stop it.

The train carries several thoroughbreds and their owners – there's a special rail car for just the horses – plus racing fans, all traveling across Canada with a few stops for prestigious races. Yes, it's exaggerated as thoroughbreds usually need better rest, care, and more time between races.

You just have to go with it, as the real story is Kelsey working undercover to ferret out the nefarious plan, which is tied to a suspicious owner who is believed to use blackmail to take control of horses.

The train becomes a tangle of partying, socializing, and intrigue as Kelsey uncovers threads of a plot – a horse is killed, a train car sabotaged, horse feed potentially poisoned, and on and on – but he can't tie it to one person or group.

There's also s*xual frisson between Kelsey and the cute young woman, Nellie Morrison, who manages the train trip itself, which includes, adding to the complexity, an onboard troupe of actors carrying out a "live" mystery show for the owners. Good God it's hard to follow it all.

Francis is in complete control, but he's also the architect and has time to learn all the characters and plot twists; you will, however, just be holding on for dear life as McQueen takes another corner in his Mustang.

None of that really matters if you end up loving one or more characters. After all, few people follow all the twists in a Charteris Saint novel or a Tom Clancy Pat Ryan story. You get it overall, care about the hero, and go from there. Kelsey, however, never rises to that level of appeal.

He's a good undercover agent, with a silly backstory – wealthy but doing this for the challenge – a reasonably appealing personality, and, thankfully, not too much snark. You will probably like him; you're just not jumping out of your seat rooting for him.

Heroes overall evolved after WWII: before the war, they were often a bit arrogant and defenders of whomever they chose – rich, poor, needy, strong – but after the war, the trend has been more toward social justice warrior heroes who don't care about money for themselves.

Kelsey, with his huge inheritance, can afford not to care about money, while the rest of us wage slaves trudge off to work or our home office for another day at the salt mines. If you enjoy that type of hero, you'll probably enjoy The Edge.

The Edge is fine for what it is, but who wants to read a book that's fine for what it is? Even for your book to read between books, you want more. Sometimes a re-read is a better option. But still, for railroad and racetrack fans, it's a pleasant enough quick read.

 

[Harp]

^ Had brunch yesterday with relatives and a nephew asked what I was reading.
Replied Marcus Aurelius' Meditations; and confessed I typically have six or seven books
going at any one time. And truthfully, couldn't recall them all.
Literary promiscuity should be a crime.

 

[Harp]

Just arrived this morning, Victor David Hanson's The Counter Revolution.

Hanson is a daily comment on Yak Tube and taught at Cal State before Stanford,
and offers a seldom seen nowadays objective rationale perspective. Sense and scholarship
is a decidedly limited commodity on-or off-campus.

I placed my Amazon order past midnite last, so this early bird arrival is as impressive
as its author.

 

[Tiki Tom]

Yup. End of summer reading slump. Like Fading Fast, I have been looking for something light to fill my time until I find something more serious. I tried to find an international spy adventure book of the kind that held my attention when I was a teen. It seems that they hardly exist anymore, or that my tastes have evolved so much that commandos and things blowing up no longer do it for me. A blessing, I suppose.

Internet generated suggestions keep recommending that I read Umberto Eco’s The Name of the Rose. I read it when it first came out, but don’t think that (as a young man of 20) I was ready for it. Maybe time to try it again? Within the Next week or two, I’ll have to find something or I will go crazy. There are worse problems, I suppose.

 

[Fading Fast]

Yup. End of summer reading slump. Like Fading Fast, I have been looking for something light to fill my time until I find something more serious. I tried to find an international spy adventure book of the kind that held my attention when I was a teen. It seems that they hardly exist anymore, or that my tastes have evolved so much that commandos and things blowing up no longer do it for me. A blessing, I suppose.

Internet generated suggestions keep recommending that I read Umberto Eco’s The Name of the Rose. I read it when it first came out, but don’t think that (as a young man of 20) I was ready for it. Maybe time to try it again? Within the Next week or two, I’ll have to find something or I will go crazy. There are worse problems, I suppose.

My unsolicited off-the-wall suggestion is Nevil Shute's "The Trustee From the Toolroom"

My comments on it here: #9,229

 

[Harp]

Yup. End of summer reading slump. Like Fading Fast, I have been looking for something light to fill my time until I find something more serious.

A good book-in-the-meantime type is Anton Myrer's The Last Convertible which captures
and chronicles a disparate Harvard '44 clique torn apart World War II, reassembled, then followed
through postwar America till the immediate aftermath of Vietnam and late middle age
assessment. Well crafted, thoughtful, and insightful yarn spun passage back to the Big Band era
and perennial youthful discover of life's riches with the price paid love and the cost borne truth.

 

[Fading Fast]

A good book-in-the-meantime type is Anton Myrer's The Last Convertible which captures
and chronicles a disparate Harvard '44 clique torn apart World War II, reassembled, then followed
through postwar America till the immediate aftermath of Vietnam and late middle age
assessment. Well crafted, thoughtful, and insightful yarn spun passage back to the Big Band era
and perennial youthful discover of life's riches with the price paid love and the cost borne truth.

I have read this one, too, and second Harp's comments. It's a good light read.

 

[Harp]

^ Over in the Vintage Car thread is a post photo of an elegantly suited Gary Cooper
and his Duesenberg Model J 1929 convertible. The epitome of class, elegance, beauty, grace,
and superlative engineered magnificence.

When I was a kid, it was a '64 Chevy Impala.