Polite Paradise

I'm reading Prairie Fires: The American Dreams of Laura Ingalls Wilder. She was my favourite author as a kid, and I'm really enjoying this deeper and less sanitized account of her life. Rose Wilder Lane is the absolute worst though.

Also reading The Truth About the Harry Quebert Affair. Good and funny!

I read that a few months ago.  There was lots of baggage in the Ingalls/Wilder family.

About to finish "All Systems Red" by Martha Wells.

Pretty good.  And I'm a rather harsh book critic.

Finished this. Now I'm reading How to Be a Victorian by Ruth Goodman. It's more casual and accessible than the previous book. Apparently the author has done several TV shows in England where she lives on a Victorian farm or Edwardian household or whatever for a year to try out how they did things, so she can speak from personal experience about some of the practices. So far it's much more upbeat--I don't know if that's just the author, or if things really made that huge a leap from Jane Austen (died 1817) to Queen Victoria (started ruling 1837).

Finished this. It was pretty good, informative and easy to read, fairly upbeat although sometimes I still wonder how the human race managed to survive the deplorable conditions, malnutrition, back-breaking labor, poor hygiene, and inaccurate medical information of past ages.

Now I'm reading To Marry an English Lord, by MacColl and Wallace. Non-fiction about the Victorian-era American heiresses who invaded English high society, allegedly one of the inspirations for Downton Abbey. It is easy to read and breezy, with lots of side bars and wide margins full of black and white photos. I wish they had sprung for some color; it's quite disappointing to hear about the fantastic fashions created by Charles Worth, and then see a small, smudgy, black and white photo of what is supposedly a famous "Peacock Dress" with a peacock feather pattern all down the skirt, in the center of each "eye" being "an iridescent green beetle shell."

Now I'm reading To Marry an English Lord, by MacColl and Wallace. Non-fiction about the Victorian-era American heiresses who invaded English high society, allegedly one of the inspirations for Downton Abbey. It is easy to read and breezy, with lots of side bars and wide margins full of black and white photos. I wish they had sprung for some color; it's quite disappointing to hear about the fantastic fashions created by Charles Worth, and then see a small, smudgy, black and white photo of what is supposedly a famous "Peacock Dress" with a peacock feather pattern all down the skirt, in the center of each "eye" being "an iridescent green beetle shell."

Finished this. It was breezy but very detailed, lots of names and connections I will never remember. Kind of scattershot in organization. You come away with more an impression of the whole, rather than any specific details.

Now I'm reading Watching the English by Kate Fox, who is a real anthropologist turning her lens on the English people, trying to "explain the rules of English behavior." So far it's enjoyable and readable, though more high-brow and academic. And the print is rather small, which makes it hard to read while I'm doing some exercises, which is when I generally read.

Is that like the Jennifer Lawrence movie? Which I haven't seen, but I understand it's a downer.

Sometimes if a book makes me too tense I skip ahead and read the end. The last page, back a bit, maybe the last chapter. Sometimes I realize the journey is not worth the destination. I used to feel guilty doing this, but then I realized my lifetime is finite and the supply of books is not. It's a reader's market out there. The books have to prove they deserve my time.

I love trashy romances.   

I'm alternating right now, plus doing a lot of re-reading.  On my nightstand is Sue Grafton's X, which I need to start soon, and a hardback copy of The Cooking Gene by Michael Twitty.  It's a culinary history of the South, written by an African-American culinary anthropologist.  It's pulling no punches so far, and I love it.

Also, interspersed with all those serious books, are a couple of Gothicy mystery novels (Mignon Eberhart), a couple of vintage Harlequins (Betty Neels), and a couple of beloved Ngaio Marshes and Agatha Christies that I periodically re-read as soon as I can convince myself I've forgotten who the killer is. 

But honey, on my Kindle, it's all about the Evernight Publishing Menage Sextreme shifters and BDSM cowboys and and and... 

Yesterday I finished the audio version of April in Paris, the German novel I mentioned earlier and I am emotionally drained. I was so surprised to see the print version got okay but not great reviews on Amazon because from the first this novel--and bear in mind I am a nonfiction reader and have been all my life--is unbelievably powerful. Set in occupied Paris beginning in 1943, it tells the story, from the man's point of view, of a German soldier who is temporarily transferred to Gestapo headquarters, to be the translator and transcriber of the torture-interrogations of French Resistance fighters who have been captured but because of his love of books and Parisians is eventually caught out. It absolutely caught me up in the story and I couldn't stop listening. I'd recommend this to anyone and everyone!

I've been reading Patricia Wentworth. She wrote the Miss Silver mysteries, they're all Golden Age classics. Miss Silver is a retired governess who turned to detecting. All the romances end happily, and the villains end up in prison or dead (except for one which is an interesting spin.) I blew through Wicked Uncle, The Brading Collection, The Gazebo, and The Watersplash in two days. Yay for ILL, because my copies are in Alaska and the books are out of print, I think.

::goes off to add 30 books to my Kindle "Mystery" wish list::