“The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath.“
Was I made for the housework, or was the housework made for me?
Was I made for the Sunday dinner, or was the Sunday dinner made for me?
Was I made for the mohair, or was the mohair made for me? Well, the mohair was made for the goat, I’m just tagging along for my own sick pleasure.
Ramona:
I’ve missed making yarn!
Just me hanging out.
No, I thought I’d bring out the Lorraine dolls at give them each a prominent position in rotation.
by Ann Patchett
I was really caught up in this story; I found myself thinking about it constantly whenever I was away from it. The backstory, that is, with the young Lara. The realtime story about the older Lara with the three daughters was OK for framing, but otherwise a bit of an annoying interruption. Also, I admit I have Issues and hate reading about happy families, lovey-dovey sister relationships, mother-daughter relationships – I know this and I cut the book a lot of slack, but the Nelson family was just so smarmily perfectly loving. The word “smothering” came to mind towards the end. She didn’t need to draw them that way to get the contrast across.
Back to the positives. I loved the young Lara. I loved her independence and quick straightforward snappy approach to everything. Ann Pratchett is really wonderful. The setup got me hooked. I loved high school Lara and her friend Veronica. She knows how to make characters likeable but not too cardboard cut-out. I loved that Lara was obviously smart and liked books but wasn’t totally precocious nor a stereotypical bookish nerd. I liked that Lara was kind of naive but not totally stupid about the adult world.
I’m saying nothing about the plot. You can get a plot summary anywhere.
A couple of things about the ending could have been better but it’s not worth spoiling anything.
Tonight’s wanderings. Last week was Salmon Hole. This is Old Red Mill. Both are spots along the Winooski River. Non-winter is just so much bigger and full of surprises.
Saturday night. The world is so much bigger in not-winter…
by Ted Kaufman & Bruce Hiland
When I was heavily into weaving school, I thought, I want to retire and do this intensively. The barriers were going to be the just-slightly-too-far distance, and the money. But I would do thought experiments on it – fully cognizant that when the time came to actually retire, my head would be in some other space and I wouldn’t want to do it anymore – but the point of thought experiments is to have fun. I came up with ways I could do it while driving less (buy a crappy car that I kept parked in Montpelier! buy a caravan to live in onsite at the school during sessions!). Now weaving school is moving and likely isn’t going to be in Marshfield anymore, if it continues to exist at all. And it’s being run by different people, naturally. And yes, my head’s moved on. Need new thought experiments.
by Lauren Oyler
This book was nearly insufferable. It starts out with a strong plot, and I was drawn into the documentary-level detail, but I didn’t foresee how off the rails it would go. After part 1, where heroine discovered her boyfriend is a secret conspiracy theorist, and part 2, which flashes back to their meet-cute, super plot twist comes along and twists the plot so severely there is no longer any plot. Then we get an absolutely interminable section where heroine just wanders around. At one point she decides to go on a series of 12 fake dates, during each of which she pretends to be a different stereotyped sign of the zodiac. I felt like I was reading some Japanese fiction where any random thing might happen next, and when things get like that, I just get like WHY!?!?!
And yes, you can totally convince me that I’m reading it on entirely the wrong level, and that all my complaints are “the point.” Nevertheless, complaints they are.
Xopher said I should post this. My doodling, my equipment, and my creation.
Tytania 