L is for The Lady in the Car with Glasses and a Gun

The Lady in the Car with Glasses and a Gun by Sebastien Japrisot is an exciting book. Newsweek described it as: "A chilling, baffling psychological fooler. . . Sparkles with all the juicy terror that can attack the heart and body." Le Monde said: "Sebastien Japrisot is a magician who gives voice to silence and lays out truth naked on the page." My goodness. Who wouldn't keep this book forever and ever? Except I'd dearly love to give it away.

My sole reason for hanging on, tooth and nail, to this "fooler" is that I want my husband to read it. And I can tell you, forcing someone else to read a book is not an easy task. I have placed it nicely by his bedside. Packed it in his carry-on luggage for long flights. Set it out by the mini-bar in foreign hotels. Put it on top of How to Build a High-Performance Mazda Miata MX-5. I even bought two very attractive bookmarks which I placed inside the cover: one from the Picasso museum in Barcelona (where of course the book was waiting to be read back at the hotel), the other a 3-D scene of the African veldt with moving lions, zebras, giraffes, and a baby rhino! I mean, how hard is to NOT read this book?? It's not like it's cold spinach  with slugs.

Here's the opening:

"I have never seen the sea.

The black-and-white tiled floor sways like water a few inches from my eyes.

It hurts so much I could die.

I am not dead."

At this point you may be asking why I put all this effort into a single book. The answer is simple: my husband will like it. Once he starts reading, he will LOVE IT! I know this with every fiber of my being. I refuse to part with this book it is read cover to cover by DH. And if he doesn't hurry up I just might read it again myself. After all, it's a very good book. Maybe you'd like to read it too?

K is for Knitting in Vogue

Knitting in Vogue by Christina Probert, a collection of vintage knitting patterns from 1932 to 1979, is a keeper for a single reason: I live in hope.

In all the years I've owned the book, purchasing it in San Francisco and hauling it from one side of the country to the other more than once, I have only knitted one garment from the entire text. And that was a very easy 1950s ski sweater that didn't even have long sleeves. But I have plans, I tell you, plans.

One day when I'm not writing/painting/cooking/reading/sleeping,  I will make:

Thick Tri-colour Windjammer

Diagonal Pattern Shirt Blouse

Twisted Rib Sweater and Scarf (sounds a bit painful)

Shetland Honeycomb Pattern Sweater

And my absolute favorite: 

Butterfly and Moss Stitch Jacket

That's just for starters. I've got the book, I've got the needles, now all I need is the time. Anybody got some extra to spare? No, I didn't think so. Oh, well. See you on Monday with the letter "L." Happy weekend!

J is for (Modern) Japanese Stories

Today's keeper book doesn't exactly start with the letter "J" but it's close enough. The only other "J"book I have is Holly Schindler's The Junction of Sunshine and Lucky, which I've recently posted about here. (It's a good post--Holly shared her top 12 tips for writing Middle Grade fiction. Please visit!) So in order to not repeat myself,  Modern Japanese Stories, an Anthology edited by Ivan Morris and illustrated with 25 full-page woodcuts will have to fill-in today.

I bought the book in Southern California at a tiny Japanese mall where I had lunch one afternoon. The bookstore next to the restaurant was a cool, dark space decorated with fluttering cotton flags and carrying rows and rows of books printed in Japanese. The books themselves intrigued me with their rice paper pages, plain but colorful fabric-textured covers, and the way they fit into my hands with a lovely, balanced weight. Holding one was like handling a scented melon, warm and satisfying between my palms. Unfortunately, I couldn't read a single word of any of the text! The shop owner could sense my dilemma, and kindly pointed me toward a small shelf of books in English. Modern Japanese Stories caught my eye. Just like the rest of the books in the store, it had that same weight and size I found so appealing. I bought the book right away and started to read it that night.

I wasn't disappointed. Over the years I've read it many, many times and have developed quite a fascination with all things Japanese. I've since read a large number of both modern and early Japanese novels; watched Japanese films whenever possible; studied Japanese ceramics, which have been a huge influence on my own ceramic work; and last year for National Poetry Month I went so far as to write and illustrate a Japanese-inspired art journal I titled "30 Days of Kimono." I wrote a blog post about it here, and created a Pinterest board for the project as well. The journal/sketchbook turned out to be so interesting I'm still adding to it, this time exploring the world of the Geisha.

One day I hope to go to Japan. My husband has been there five (!) times for business, but I was never able to accompany him. He assures me that downtown Tokyo is nothing like my romantic vision of a quiet mountain inn complete with our own private tea garden and a view of cherry blossoms in the snow. I don't care--I want to see Tokyo too! Both places are on my bucket list. In the meantime, I'm happy to re-read Modern Japanese Stories and dream.

I is for Isadora Duncan

Isadora Duncan became my I-is-for-Idol when I was ten years old and read a Reader's Digest condensed version of her biography that summer in Anaheim, California. I was staying at my grandmother's house for a month, and we were so close to Disneyland I could see the Matterhorn from the end of her street. 

My grandmother also had a swimming pool, and every day I pretty much followed the same routine: cinnamon toast for breakfast, swim, baloney and mustard sandwiches for lunch, read, swim, dinner (usually tacos or burgers), read, swim, read. I was in heaven! (I also hadn't become a vegetarian yet.) I lived in my bathing suit and read and ate outside next to the pool. I also remember some bad sunburn because my grandmother's favorite suntan lotion was olive oil, LOL! We were cooked to bruschetta on a daily basis.

However, it was Isadora Duncan who really stood out for me in between swimming sessions. I'm sure I didn't understand very much at the time about her complicated love life, or how truly innovative her contribution to the art and dance world was. But I did know she was different and interesting, and I continued my fascination with her life well into adulthood. Which is why my husband surprised me one Christmas with a book so beautiful it's really a piece of art rather than reading material.

Isadora Duncan with Art Deco Sculptures by Chiparus, Preiss, and Others published by Franco Maria Ricci with text by Alberto Savinio is so special that rather than a dust jacket, it rests in its own black silk-covered box. The oversize pale indigo-blue pages are of handmade paper from Milan, and the Art Deco photographs of rare and decorative dance sculptures are first-class. My copy is one of a limited edition, and half the time I don't read it because I'm afraid of ruining it somehow.

And that's a shame because it's a book worth reading whenever possible. Unlike most biographies, the section on Duncan's life history is written in a literary and poetic style. The sections describing the artwork are equally entertaining, making this a very special and unique keeper. Best of all, it inspired one of the characters in my current WIP, The Abyssal Plain. Now to just be able to afford some of those Art Deco sculptures for my living room.

H is for House of Leaves

Today’s post should really be titled, "H is for Hello, I'm very, very tired." A-Z blogging is, well, um, challenging! Put that with the staying up all night because I went to the Laini Taylor booksigning/launch for Dreams of Gods and Monsters here in Albuquerque, and when I got home I couldn't sleep. At all. Which may be a good way to describe my love for  Mark Z. Danielewski’s House of Leaves: it, too, leaves me sleepless. 

House of Leaves is a keeper because it’s so darn weird. WEIRD. I mean, how many novels have indexes? Or contain so many footnotes you forget whether you’re reading the core story, or the footnotes to the footnotes' story, or—hey, does it really matter? It's all entertainment.

 The book was first recommended to me by a cheerful woman who explained that she was, at that particular moment in her life, mentally ill, and the only book she could read or understand was House of Leaves because, in her words, it was "where her mind was." She thought I would enjoy it too.

Rather than wondering if she had perhaps noticed something about me that I had failed to see, I took her advice and bought a copy. She was right--it's an amazing book no matter where your head is. 

Here’s a direct quote and the full text of page 221 of the Remastered Full Color Edition: 

“after”

If you thought that was unusual, just wait till you see what's on page 223. 

And f you want to know what it all means--plus have the most exciting (and puzzling) reading adventure of your life--you’ll have to read the book. Personally I need a nap. See you tomorrow with the letter “I.”

P.S. The Laini Taylor event was fabulous. Thanks to our local Albuquerque indie store, Bookworks, we had cake and punch, sketchbooks, a giant puppet, games, henna, masks. . . . Laini was a wonderful and gracious speaker, and she signed three books for me! It might not start with the letter "H" but #DOGAM (along with the rest of her books) is definitely going straight to my keeper shelf.

G is for Gaudete

Before I signed up for the April A-Z Blogging Challenge, April was always associated in my mind with National Poetry Month. It still is, just now with a little twist. So in order to honor one of my favorite months and subjects, I’m dedicating the letter G to the next of my keeper books: Gaudete by Ted Hughes. 

Gaudete was another purchase from Foyle’s of London, and to be honest when I bought it all I knew about Hughes was that he had been married to Sylvia Plath. I had no idea what his work would be like, but the cover, a creepy pen-and-ink drawing of a giant screaming head by Leonard Baskin, caught my imagination and wouldn't let go. When I read the back cover, I was fascinated to learn that the text had originally been written as a film scenario, and that may be one of the reasons I ended up reading it over and over.

When I was a child, one of my favorite things to do when no one was looking was to watch English black-and-white horror movies, especially the ones set in sinister villages where it turns out the headmaster of the local school is leading a coven of witches, or the neighbors regularly sacrifice newcomers on Midsummer’s Eve. I loved the way the hoity-toity villagers sped around in open-top sports cars, the gentlemens' ties flying in the wind, or the ladies' silk scarves protecting those beehive hairdos. When they met for afternoon tea to plot their next evil deed, my main thought was not "how awful," but, "Wow--just look at that Royal Doulton. And that Tudor oak wainscoting. I HAVE to go there one day!"

Gaudete is straight out of this traditional very British and very proper horror vein, with plenty of humor directed toward the genre to make it even whackier. A dark and, yes, philosophical, tale of changelings and elementals and overgrown hedgerows, it’s a real page turner, and some of the best and most accessible poetry you’ll ever read. It's a keeper!

F is for Frommer's Barcelona Day by Day

Welcome to Week 2 of the A-Z Blogging Challenge. If you’re a new reader to my site, my theme for the month is “keeper books,” the books I can’t live without. Today’s selection is Frommer’s Barcelona, Day by Day, 21 Smart Ways to See the City. It’s one of my newer books—I haven’t even owned it a full twelve months. The reason it’s a keeper is that I used it last year on my trip to Barcelona, and I had so much fun I’m definitely going back! 

The book is small but loaded, much like the handbag I used to schlep the book over every square centimeter of Barcelona during my two-week summer vacation. And in many ways, that handbag was just as important as the book, maybe more so. Before I tell you why, I first want to apologize to the Barcelona tourist board for what may be perceived as a negative report, but it was their very own site that alerted me to the fact that Barcelona is swarming with pick-pockets. Yuk. At first I didn’t want to believe it—I’ve been in big cities, thank you, I can look after myself. Then I read the warnings again on numerous travel blogs, on my chosen hotel’s website, and finally in Frommer’s Barcelona Day by Day. Travelers beware: thieves abound.

I was worried. I’ve never been a paranoid traveler and I wasn't about to start. All the same, I decided I had to have the safest bag ever made to foil those pesky purse-snatchers. I wanted it to be stylish, small-ish, and something that didn’t scream “American tourist on the loose!” 

My solution was to go to a weapons site. Yes. Pacifist, timid me started scanning websites with names like “Gun-Toting Mamas” and “Guns-to-Go.” It was an education, mainly because it drew my attention to the reality that many women are a) armed and b) have good reason to be. Police officers, security guards, private detectives, women who live in dangerous American cities—all need to protect themselves and others, like it or not. And thanks to these resourceful sites, I found the perfect purse: tan leather, lots and lots of zippered pockets for things like passports and make-up, a slash-proof handle (very important), and a secret gun compartment (!). Once I removed the Velcro holster from the compartment, it was the exact size to hold Frommer’s Barcelona along with my travel journal and pencil case. Talk about turning swords to plowshares. 

Best of all, I could wear the bag cross-body, the recommended way those scary blog warnings insisted I do. They were right—on my last night in the city, while being seated at a very fancy and beautiful restaurant, a young woman was robbed. It broke my heart to see her sobbing helplessly while her family tried to comfort her as they called banks and embassies to block her credit cards and personal information. 

It was an eye-opener to realize the world isn’t as safe as it was in the past when I’d breezily ride the London tube home alone at midnight after attending a concert or play. It also got old to constantly clutch my cross-body weaponless-weapon bag like a cherished infant every minute of the day and night, but that’s the world we live in. It won’t stop me returning to Barcelona, or anywhere else for that matter. Besides, I have a secret weapon of my own: the purse itself. Filled with my pens, books, journals, camera, wallet, water, the thing weighs a ton. I’m sure it could knock out a grown man cold. The travel journal really is mightier than the sword. 

P.S. If you'd like to read my post about my wonderful and happy trip to beautiful Barcelona, just click here. Thanks for visiting.