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Bookkeeping
Aug. 2nd, 2004 12:51 pmRead recently:
On the bus, Seabiscuit, Laura Hillenbrand. I learned a lot about horse racing, and thought about the difficulties of being a writer of non-fictional stories - you have so much less control over pacing, because when things actually happened, they didn't necessarily do so in an orderly fashion. She had me panting in excitement at the end of the match race.
On the bus, The Black Death by Richard Gottfried. Academic, a little dry, a little surfacial. You can tell it was written in 1983 because of the emphasis on environmental causes. Bought for mr. flea, because he liked Doomsday Book so much; he'll like it. I liked it fine, but it didn't thrill me or tell me much that was new.
Begun on the bus today: Krakatoa, by Simon Winchester. Bought because I thought mr. flea would like it, and I had a great love of William Pene Du Bois' The Twenty-One Balloons. (This also resulted in a confusion in my youth between William Pene Du Bois and W. E. B. Du Bois, a fact which now amuses me.)
Approaching the end of Welcome To Temptation, which I read to mr. flea a couple of nights a week. He's loving it. Faking It next!
Rereading a Gerogette Heyer whose title is escaping me - it's the one about Miles Calverleigh the Black Sheep. (Aha! It's called Black Sheep.)
On the bus, Seabiscuit, Laura Hillenbrand. I learned a lot about horse racing, and thought about the difficulties of being a writer of non-fictional stories - you have so much less control over pacing, because when things actually happened, they didn't necessarily do so in an orderly fashion. She had me panting in excitement at the end of the match race.
On the bus, The Black Death by Richard Gottfried. Academic, a little dry, a little surfacial. You can tell it was written in 1983 because of the emphasis on environmental causes. Bought for mr. flea, because he liked Doomsday Book so much; he'll like it. I liked it fine, but it didn't thrill me or tell me much that was new.
Begun on the bus today: Krakatoa, by Simon Winchester. Bought because I thought mr. flea would like it, and I had a great love of William Pene Du Bois' The Twenty-One Balloons. (This also resulted in a confusion in my youth between William Pene Du Bois and W. E. B. Du Bois, a fact which now amuses me.)
Approaching the end of Welcome To Temptation, which I read to mr. flea a couple of nights a week. He's loving it. Faking It next!
Rereading a Gerogette Heyer whose title is escaping me - it's the one about Miles Calverleigh the Black Sheep. (Aha! It's called Black Sheep.)