SO behind...part 1

I've been reading a decent amount since before Thanksgiving, and now it's December, and I haven't written anything down.  And I will, but before I forget, sold the following books to the Used Books department at the Harvard Bookstore today - only half of the ones I dragged in, but hey, it's $10 and change in store credit, and a slightly less teetery tower of books (that I'll never read again) on the floor of my apartment.

Quickly:
Fingersmith, Sarah Waters - not exactly my cup of tea, but I have to say, it was well-written.  A little confusing in places, but that is as it should be.  The more I think about it, the more I think I liked it / it was good, but I don't need to own it, either.
The Constant Princess, Philippa Gregory - I think this might be one of my favorites of the Gregory Tudor books; it's certainly not as "exciting" as The Other Boleyn Girl (which I think was the first one of hers I read), but Katherine of Aragon makes for an appealing protagonist, as I recall.
The Last Camel Died at Noon, Elizabeth Peters - I feel like I SHOULD like these books and their protagonist (Amelia Peabody) better than I actually do.  But I find the main characters more annoying than anything...wish Harvard Bookstore had taken the other two I had off my hands as well!
Tyrannosaur Canyon, Douglas Preston - dumb, but funny.  Read it on a plane, I think.
Shutter Island, Dennis Lehane - talked about this book here when I read it, so no need to go back over it here.  Saw the movie with N and Dad a while ago, that was kinda fun.  Totally different from the book, though, as much as I remembered of the book at the time.  And RATS.  UGH.  Had to close my eyes.

Interesting that two of the five here have movie adaptations (and a third if you count references) - I should check out Fingersmith & The Other Boleyn Girl, in its various incarnations. 

Back in the saddle!

Okay, been a while since I last posted, apparently, but also been crazy busy, so not too much to catch up on.  I will think about it, but I am pretty sure that I have only read two books since then, since I haven't had much spare time.  Both were on the bus to & from NYC this weekend (note to self, I need to plan on at least two books, each way, for future trips to Manhattan, because staring out the window at the side of the road gets really boring, really fast).  So: 
On Sunday (4/18) I started reading Dennis Lehane's Shutter Island.  I don't know.  I mean, it was a decent twist that I didn't necessarily see coming, but I just couldn't quite get into it.  Now, that could have been in part because I was wicked uncomfortable in the Bolt Bus' seat, so I was focused more on how long it would take to get to NY, and then to Renita's, and - always & of course - how supremely pissed off I was at my classmates, who turn in CRAPTASTIC papers WICKED LATE, but I think part of it was the story, too.  It seemed a little over-written, maybe - like, yeah, we get it.  Period dialogue.  Hep.  Whatever; it was fun enough, and a good bus read insofar as I didn't have to focus too too much.  It's interesting that it's a movie, because it sort of felt when I was reading it like it would be a better movie than book - there are a lot of visual (sensual, really, including sounds) elements that might translate better in that medium.  And I liked Gone, Baby, Gone the movie and loved Mystic River the movie, so that may be saying something (I also read the first page or so of Mystic River, the book, and Gone, Baby, Gone, the book, in the back of Shutter Island, and was like "eh" - if I had picked those books up in a store, and read those first pages, I doubt I would have bought them (Mystic River, in particular, whereas the movie sucked me right in).

For the bus ride back I borrowed a book by Sophie Kinsella from R, Twenties Girl.  It took a little getting into, but then I really enjoyed it.  I might have gotten into it a little too much, actually, given that I was on a bus.  I definitely caught myself smirking at a couple parts, almost giggling a few other other places, and actually getting a little choked up here and there (without giving anything away, a woman in her late twenties [I think?  maybe early thirties?  don't remember] bonds with the ghost of her great aunt (died at 105, but haunts as a twenty-something from 1927 or thereabouts - gets a little emotional in places!).  But then I would remember that the guy sitting next to me had been all chatty and then he TURNED HIS BODY away to take a phone call in which he was like "yeah, I should be home around 6" - so, unless he had a really tight bond with his male roomate, I was not going to worry about making a bad impression!  More than a little fluffy, yeah, but fun, and while the insights into live & love, etc., were pretty facile, I can certainly always use a reminder that you can't just will someone into liking you, and if you like someone more than he likes you, you just need to f***ing get over it and move on.  Points for being realistic, I guess, Ms. Kinsella (although, feel like that is a pseudonym?).  Definitely liked it way, way more than the Shopaholic books, not that I didn't borrow one or two of those from R as well...they were always good for amusing myself while I waited for her to get out of the shower or something (unlike d**m Far Pavilions which is a mother-f***ing TOME of a book).

Started Jack Weatherford's The Secret History of the Mongol Queens last night; so far, so awesome!  Really enjoying everything of it I have read so far - it seems to be decent history, at least Weatherford writes with an authoritative voice, but there aren't any footnotes or end-notes, so it's def. kind of history-lite.  But he clearly seems to know his stuff, and it feels like maybe this (Genghis Khan's daughters, etc.) he came across researching something else, and I trust that kind of organic source of "inspiration," as it were.  I am assuming there is either a bibliography or a bibliographic essay at the back, and I will be okay with that.  Hoping there is, because this really makes me want to go read more - especially the Secret History of the Mongols, the semi-contemporary chronicle of Genghis' life, rise to power, and empire, if Weatherford can recommend a good translation.  These chicks were totally kinda awesome, although I think part of that may just be a reflection of what f***-ups Genghis' sons were.  But I do want to know more.  I also kinda want to ride a horse into battle, but I will settle for going home and listening to The Animals, because "It's My Life" makes me think of Genghis Khan for some reason.  Well, the reference to sable is the reason.  Ooohh...Brill does an edition of Secret History of the Mongols - bet that's decent.

So annoying.  N just said he thought "Khan" would not be a good name for any future sons of mine / nephews of his.  Although we both agreed it would be better than "Genghis."  I bet M would back me up on this...or try to steal my idea - it's a race to see who has a little baby Aristeia first!  (Oh, interesting: the Mongols seem to have had a similar concept, baatar).

Ohhhhh, St. Patrick's Day...

Well.  Been a while since I wrote about my books...life got a little crazy on St. Patrick's Day and is just settling down.  Good, bad, and awkward, but I think we're back to normal, and I am back to compulsively reading & buying books I can't afford. 
Due to the two-day hangover following St. Pat's, and the two smaller ones since, I didn't read as much as normal the last week, so not too much to report.  Finished The Rose Grower by Michelle de Kretser a while ago (maybe last Friday?  MAYBE Thurs., but I think I just came home from work and passed out, after trying not to die all day), and really enjoyed it.  It's about a family (and associated friends, etc.) during the French Revolution, and I really ended up liking it.  The political upheaval was always very present, but not overwhelmingly so, and the characters were nicely drawn.  It was interesting because it's written from the point of view of several characters, and the chapters switch in between with no real headings, so you need to read a bit to figure out who is talking, which is like in that book I started the week before (?), La Salle, but whereas it was annoying in the Vernon, I thought De Kretser used the device in a way that just made me read more carefully, and be more engaged with the story.  I'm not doing a very good job describing it, but I liked it, and would definitely recommend it as a story; as far as the history part of it being historical fiction, I don't know enough about the period to really know if it's any good or not, but it felt right.  It wasn't incredibly exciting or anything, almost Austen-ish in its quiet - but compelling - narrative flow, but I was pulled into it, and sad when it was over.  This is apparently the author's first novel, but I would definitely read more by her.
Also read The Nature of Monsters by Clare Clark, who wrote The Great Stink, which I raved about in this blog last month.  At first I didn't like Monsters as much, but I ended up being completely absorbed.  This one is set in early 18th century London, and centers around the tension between old traditional beliefs and emerging medical "science" - sort of.  Good NYT review has a better summary than I can give, or feel like writing, but I would say the important thing for me was that she has, once again, characters that are written so believeably they manage to feel totally familiar, despite being in a completely foreign setting, and she makes London come alive in all it's grimy foulness - and moments of crystalline beauty that are all the more special for their rarity.  I wonder if she is planning on just writing a series of books of London at different, stinking time periods...?  Neither one of these was really a good hangover book, though - you had to focus - so I didn't read much else.  Tried to read another one of those Sebastian St. Cyr books by C.S. Harris on Sat., but couldn't make my eyes focus (three girls, one 6 month old German Shepherd, 12 bottles of wine and a 70 degree days spent on Boston Common = me walking home, calling D to tell him his gf is fat, calling R to b*tch that Hsin Hsin wouldn't pick up - at midnight! - and then trying, and failing, to read).  I feel like I started to read a couple books this week/end, but gave up, but now I can't think of them.  Stumbled through the Harvard Bookstore yesterday in a total fugue state searching for something to "read me through the hangover" (as I apparently thought it was fine to explain to the checkout girl) and ended up with a used copy of Innocent Blood by P.D. James.  Enjoying it so far, I guess, but a little thrown by the fact I have already come across two references to "slant-eyed" Asian people - not sure if this was ironic or something, or just the author.  Have never really been able to get into James, so I don't know why that was what I went with.  Honestly, I think I was just wandering through the store's basement and suddenly realized I needed sugar and food, and grabbed whatever I had looked at last.  Did something similar on Sunday: met T for coffee and a rundown of my latest antics and poor choices (if you read this, T, thanks for always listening and never judging!), and we - of course - ended up wandering back and forth through Barnes and Noble, where I started a huge list of books in my phone, and then justified buying a paperback Shutter Island because "I had a really rough couple of days, and I need an escape."  Of course now I've gotten another book since, will be grabbing three from deposit today, and am only on page 5.  Oh, well - the one thing I can guarantee is I will get to it!  And I really think I need a non-drinking weekend, so a couple days of curling up with a good book would be idea.  Esp. because I think today I need to tell Flava-flav that I can't see him any more, so I will need to keep myself occupied so I don't break down and holler at him.