A body has been found in the ice house on the grounds of Streech Grange, and the citizens of Streech Village are eager for that witch, Phoebe Maybury, to finally get what’s been coming to her. Phoebe’s husband disappeared ten years earlier, and despite no body being found, it’s common knowledge in the village that Phoebe murdered him. Now, finally, here’s his corpse to stand in accusation of his treacherous wife. One problem, though: the body in the ice house has only been dead a few weeks. If it’s David Maybury, the village has been persecuting an innocent woman for ten years. Still, no need to let a little logic get in the way of a delicious vendetta; if Phoebe didn’t kill David ten years ago, she obviously has done so now, and she’s guilty of much more besides—lesbianism, witchcraft, corrupting the youth of the village. One way or another, the Witch of Streech Manor deserves what she gets.
Fortunately for Phoebe, Detective Sergeant Alan McLoughlin can see that the facts don’t add up the way the villagers and his Chief Inspector think they do; in fact, they don’t really make sense no matter how he tries to put them together. But he’s determined to get to the bottom of all the mysteries presented by this one mouldering corpse and its inconvenient resting place. To do so, he will have to unravel a Gordian knot of lies being tied by everyone involved in the case, uncover numerous smaller crimes stretching back ten years, and sort out the victims from the villains.
What a thrilling read this was! Most mystery novels leaving you wondering who the murderer is until the final few pages; this one doesn’t even tell you who the victim is until the final reveal. Innocent parties prevaricate and act absolutely guilty of something; the guilty do a fair job appearing blameless—of murder, at least, if not of all venial sins. Everyone in the novel is seething—with rage, with fear, with lust or envy. No-one is quite entirely innocent; not the murdered man, not his accused murderess, not her accusers—and certainly not the police tasked with solving the crime.
It’s so rewarding to read a really good, chewy mystery novel. I’m glad Walters has a deep bibliography (14 novels, 2 novellas, and counting) and REALLY glad that Ramona has found four more of them to read and then send along to me. If Walters’ subsequent works maintain the level of suspense and readability of her debut novel, I’m sure I’ll read everything she writes.
Tagged:Book Reviews, Mysteries. | 1 Comment »
I completely loved Oliver Sacks’ Uncle Tungsten: Memories of a Chemical Boyhood. Sacks has written several best-sellers about the neurological disorders he studies–Awakenings is probably the most famous, as it was turned into a movie–but in this book, he casts his eye back over his own development as a scientist. Sacks’ parents were both from large families (thirteen in his father’s family and eighteen in his mother’s), and several aunts and uncles lived with them, with many others nearby. The family had a strong scientific bent: Sacks’ own parents were both doctors, and there were a number of other doctors, scientists, researchers, and inventors among their siblings. Which meant that whenever young Oliver expressed a curiosity about the world, there was a specialist near at hand to nurture that interest. Chemistry was his first love, and there was Uncle Tungsten (so nicknamed because he manufactured tungsten filaments for light bulbs) to give him samples of elements and guide his experiments. Auntie Len, a botanist and mathematician, leveraged Oliver’s interest in chemistry to get him out into the garden, teaching him about the mathematical principles underlying nature (the Fibonacci sequence, the golden section) as he explored the chemistry of plants. When Oliver mused aloud about the wealth of elements that might be found in the sun, Uncle Abe took the opportunity to engage Oliver in research into spectroscopy.
The adults around Sacks challenged his intellect; each of these paths to knowledge were paved with classic books in the field–no Chemistry for Dummies or Physics Made Easy for Oliver! If he wanted to learn, he could read Lavoisier, Davy, and Mendeleev in their own words. A challenge, yes, and also a compliment to a burgeoning young mind, telling him ‘we think you’re up to it, Oliver. You don’t need an elementary-level introduction to scientific topics; you’re a Sacks, you can jump right in at the adult level.’ His elders judged his enthusiasm well, and nurtured it wisely. They also gave him the freedom to experiment, to make errors and discoveries on his own. When an early chemistry experiment filled the house with noxious smoke, Oliver’s parents gave him a shed in the yard for a workspace. Oliver describes taking a bus across London to spend his carefully-hoarded pocket money at a chemical supply house: “The shopkeepers…would warn me now and then, ‘Go easy with that one!’ [but] they always let me have what I wished.” Acids, poisons, volatile and potentially explosive substances, all cheerfully wrapped up and sent along with the obsessive little 10-year-old boy. Shocking, yet appealing, the freedom young Oliver was given.
The book isn’t all carefree boyhood days of distilling poisons and shed-exploding idylls; Sacks delves into some traumas and tragedies as well–the terror and loneliness of being evacuated from London during the Blitz; the abuse he endured at boarding school; the gruesome, bloody death of his Aunt Birdie, at home, as his surgeon mother worked desperately to save her; the psychotic break and descent into madness suffered by his own brother, Michael. Sacks seems to be studying himself as he would one of his patients, exploring the events that shaped the man he became. I have always found Oliver Sacks an interesting and appealing character, and never more so than when at the center of his own story.
Tagged:Challenges, Science. | No Comments »
Well, Internet, I have a confession: I have broken my promise to you. Specifically, the one where I said I’d read 20 books I already owned, before buying any more. See, what happened was…well, I was the antique store, the same place I got this charming petit livre, and I found something that I couldn’t leave without: a 1941 edition of Berlin Diary by William Shirer, on sale for $15. I tried to resist, I really did. I tried to imagine leaving it there, going home, reading another 12 books as fast as I possibly could, and then coming back to look for it. I imagined how I’d feel if it wasn’t there any more–and realized that sometimes, you just can’t keep your promises. It just seemed like the sort of thing I’d never find again, and would regret. So home it came. As Ken remarked, “I’m just impressed that you didn’t decide ‘in for a penny, in for a pound’ and come home with a whole stack.” Me, too!
As long as I’m coming clean here, I might as well tell you I’m off the Challenge wagon entirely. I’ve been reading freely and at will for over a month now, not accomplishing anything more than my own entertainment and edification. I got an iPad in early May, and I had promised myself that the first book I read on it would be The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy; it seemed appropriate, now that Apple has so nearly approximated that famous device. (I also named my iPad Adams, in honor of Hitchhiker’s dearly missed author.) And, as you’ll see on my 2010 Reading Page, one Adams novel quickly turned into four (and several more on the iPad to go!)
I resisted the ebook revolution for a surprisingly long time, given how much I love to read and love techie toys. You’d think I would have been in on them immediately (and in fact, I’ve been asked for recommendations on readers many times by people who assumed I would have been.) I had played around with a Kindle, but was underwhelmed by it. As much as I liked the idea of keeping a whole library at hand, I didn’t want yet another digital device to round up every morning and schlep with me. The iPad, however, hit a sweet spot of functionality and portability that won me over, and now that I have it, I find that I love reading ebooks. I’ve been tearing through them a remarkable pace. The instant-purchase wireless downloads are a bit of a danger, but one I’ve managed pretty well so far.
It’ll be a while before I get back into Challenge mode, unless I can quickly find one dedicated to genteel protagonists solving increasingly unlikely murders. We’re moving in to summer now, and I’m already feeling the urge stack up the mystery novels and devour them like popcorn. Ramona got me started on Laura Childs’ tea shop mysteries, which will be just about perfect when it’s too hot to read anything but short, fluffy fiction. I’ve also heard good things about Steig Larsson’s mysteries, and plan to give them a go. Once we tip over into Fall (and yes, I’m looking forward to that already!), I’ve got my choices lined up for this year’s RIP Challenge. So the year may end on a positive note, challenge-wise. For what it’s worth, I promise you I’ll do a better job reporting on the books I’m reading, electronic or otherwise.
Tagged:Challenges, Technology. | 2 Comments »
Whoever’s idea it was, it was a good one. Happy 10th Anniversary, Darling!
Tagged:Life, Love. | 3 Comments »
Joyful May to you! I saw some cheery poppies yesterday that made me smile. I always think of poppies and peonies as my birthday flowers–they were always in full bloom at the end of May, making a pretty backdrop for my birthday photos.
The lilac bush we planted three years ago finally bloomed, to great rejoicing. The picture above is from last weekend; we cut the bloom stems today, to encourage further growth, and put them in a vase on the table–you can smell them all through the house! Ken and I both love lilacs and irises, and now we have both growing in our yard. The free irises we picked up in the neighborhood last fall are growing vigorously and have finally produced a hint as to their color: one purple bud, still tightly furled.
My Great-grandma Ridnour had a big patch of irises; to tiny me, walking up the path with irises towering over my head on both sides, it seemed the entire back yard was irises. I confess I’ve considered doing the same in our front yard: just giving it over to the flowers and letting them run riot.
I would like to get some lilies of the valley growing somewhere in the yard. These are my true birthday flowers, i.e., the flowers ‘assigned’ to May birthdays, and I love their fragrant daintiness. A few years ago, Ramona sent me some that had originally grown in Great-grandma Lynam’s yard, but they failed to take root. Still, try, try again. They’re supposed to be quite hardy, once established. Perhaps they’d do well in the same corner that the Arum italicum is flourishing in?
I also want to find a spot and get some huechera, or coral bells, going. I love the autumnal colors of the ‘Caramel’ and ‘Marmalade’ varieties; it would be nice to have a little autumn in the garden all year round. Perhaps I’ll do something like this container garden I saw on the Craftzine Blog. Pretty, isn’t it?
Tagged:Garden. | 2 Comments »
My good friend Rachel shared an article about Persephone Books some time ago, and I was captivated by the notion of a publishing house dedicated to reviving forgotten modern classics by women. I asked Bookish Dark’s London correspondent, the redoubtable Bearby, if he could send me a sampling of their works. Good soul that he is, he promptly set out with my wish list of titles, located the charming little shop, and got a package en route almost immediately.
Persephone’s mission statement:
Persephone prints mainly neglected fiction and non-fiction by women, for women and about women. The titles are chosen to appeal to busy women who rarely have time to spend in ever-larger bookshops and who would like to have access to a list of books designed to be neither too literary nor too commercial. The books are guaranteed to be readable, thought-provoking and impossible to forget.
On the “Why Persephone” page of their website, they say they chose the name Persephone because “it has a timeless quality; sounds beautiful; is very obviously feminine; and symbolises new beginnings (and fertility) as well as female creativity.” I think they’re overlooking another potent bit of symbolism: each of the books they publish, like Persephone herself, has been raised up from oblivion and returned to the light of public awareness and appreciation.
I must say, there are few things that delight me more than a parcel of books from London (shades of 84 Charing Cross Road!) I first dove into Vere Hodgson’s marvelous (and massive) Few Eggs and No Oranges, a compilation of her wartime journals. These were not private diaries, but dispatches she circulated among her far-flung family during the war years. I have a deep fascination with WWII-era Britain, particularly with London during the Blitz, and this book satisfied it in a way no work of reminiscence or fiction could. The entries have an incomparable immediacy, as Vere sat down at the end of her work day before heading home (assuming an air raid wasn’t in progress, making travel impossible; she spent many a night on the couch at her office) and tapped out a few paragraphs to her family. The pages passed through six or seven hands before arriving at their final destination, a cousin in Rhodesia. As the title indicates, the concerns of daily life play a much larger role in the story than would be the case in a memoir written decades after the event. This is history written as it occurred, reflecting not the actions of the few and the great, but the concerns of everyday citizens caught up in world events. It’s a priceless piece of reporting, and the jewel of my Anglophilia collection; I’m endlessly grateful for the chain of events that brought it to my attention.
I have recently finished another Persephone title, one that illuminates another life that could have so easily been lost in the mists of time, if not for the power of the written word. (And here is Penelope Lively again, to remind us of the immortality-conferring powers of language!) I put Oriel Malet’s biography of Marjory Fleming on my Persephone Books request list for an obvious reason: I’m always looking for material to add to the Biographical Dictionary of Prominent Flemings that I keep in my head. There are just so many distinguished members of the extended Fleming clan: writers, artists, actors, athletes, scientists, even a Time Lord; perhaps I shall have to actually write the thing some day? (Note: I am unaware of any actual connection between my family and any of these illustrious folk. But that’s hardly a reason not to claim them!)
I had never heard of little Marjory, though, until I perused the Persephone Catalog—one more reason to be grateful for their dedication to overlooked classics! She was born in Kirkcaldy, Scotland, in 1803, and would die there, of meningitis, less than nine years later; in between those events, she would manage leave her mark on Scottish literature.
From Marjory’s journals and letters between various family members, Oriel Malet constructed a fanciful and evocative portrait of a brilliant mind trapped in the body of a small child. Marjory’s intellectual maturity far outstripped her physical and emotional development, and this caused her quite a bit of difficulty when she was very small (the book opens with an imagined scene of Marjory at three years old, already running a bit wild and feeling intensely her place in the world.) When Marjory was five, the family hosted her cousin Isabel Keith for a lengthy stay; Isa, just seventeen herself, was enchanted with her bright little cousin and begged her aunt and uncle to let her take Marjory back to Edinburgh with her when she went home. She argued that Edinburgh had much more to offer a talented child than did rural Kirkcaldy: greater cultural and social opportunities, and Isa herself as a dedicated tutor to her small cousin. The Flemings agreed, and Marjory embarked on the adventure of her life (sadly, literally: the Edinburgh trip that should have been merely the first in a long life of adventures would be Marjory’s one great excursion into the wider world.)
Marjory lived with the Keiths, a wealthy and well-connected branch of the family, for 18 months, and she blossomed under her cousin’s tutelage. Morning lessons were leavened with afternoon visits to parks, museums, and shops; Isa’s circle of friends adopted Marjory as something of a pet, addressing her as an adult and including her on their social rounds. Marjory loved history and poetry, hated math, and above all, despised copy-book exercises. Isa, in a stroke of brilliance, offered Marjory a plain notebook and said she could write whatever was in her head to practice penmanship, rather than copy out the dull writing exercises, and thus was an author born. Marjory’s exercise notebooks quickly became her journal, and her legacy.
Malet’s book contains several excerpts of Marjory’s writing, including the entirety of her 205-line biographical poem on Mary, Queen of Scots.
She flew to England for protection
For Elisbeth was her connection
Elisbeth was quite cross & sour
She wished poor Mary in her power
Elisbeth said she would her keep
And in her kingdon she might sleep
But to a prison she was sent
Elisbeths hart did not relent
And this at six or seven years old! We are left to imagine the poems and novels we were denied by Marjory’s untimely, and all too common, death. It makes me wonder how much else we have lost, as bright minds flared into being and out again, without the chance to create the piece of art, literature, or history hidden within them. And it makes me all the gladder for the work Persephone Books is doing, reclaiming the works we do have from oblivion.
Tagged:Book Reviews, Challenges. | 1 Comment »
We’ve been playing about with no-knead bread, and have come up with a couple of winning variations. First, a sourdough version, which Ken has tried out twice.
SOURDOUGH
1 1/2 cups Sourdough Starter
1 cup Warm Water
1 1/2 teaspoons Salt
3 cups Flour
Mix together in the order listed. When adding the flour, mix in the first two cups, then add the third in portions, until you get the dough coming together, but still fairly loose and sticky; you may not need the full third cup. Plan on a longer-than-usual rise—Ken let both batches go 24 hours for the first rise. Proceed as with basic no-knead recipe to form dough, let rise again, and bake. Both sourdough batches went just about the full baking time, including the final 30 minutes uncovered, to give them good, solid, crunchy crusts.
ROASTED GARLIC
This is my favorite adaptation so far—so aromatic and delicious, and the house smelled heavenly for days.
2 heads of partially roasted garlic (or to taste)
3 cups Flour
1 Cup Warm Water
1 1/2 teaspoons Salt
1/3 teaspoon Yeast
We partially-roasted two heads of garlic in olive oil, using a terracotta garlic baker, but took it out of the oven after 20 minutes (about half the recommended roasting time.)
We let the garlic cool down for another 20 minutes before popping the cloves out of their papers, cutting larger cloves in half and leaving smaller ones whole. Then we mixed up the dough, folded in the garlic cloves and left it to rise for 18-20 hours. The dough was still very sticky when we worked with it the next day, so we were very liberal with the flour on our work surface. We then proceeded as usual with the second rise and baking, but gave it only 15 minutes of uncovered baking. This made it a bit lighter in color and softer-crusted than the other loaves have been, but it was fully cooked and delightfully chewy. I recommend playing around with that final uncovered baking period, taking loaves out at different points, and figuring out how you like it best.
The garlic was lovely and soft, without being squishy, and had reached the mellow flavor of fully-roasted garlic. We did have some trouble getting the cloves distributed throughout the bread; they sort of clumped at one end. Small matter, though, and one we’ll be more aware of next time. Oh, and, while this bread was wonderful fresh-baked, it was fantastic toasted!
Tagged:Food. | 1 Comment »
In the comments on the previous post, Tinky asked for the recipe for Ken’s cashew chicken, and I answered her there, but it occurred to me that people who follow Bookish Dark via RSS wouldn’t have seen that, so I’m republishing it as its own post.
Ken is an instinctive cook; when he wants to make a dish, he looks up several recipes and takes the best of each to make his own version. Measurements are approximate and should be adjusted to your personal taste.
1 Chicken Breast
Veggies (broccoli, mushrooms, green onion, garlic, green beans, pea pods, etc…whatever you want in it.)
1 cup chicken stock
1.5 tbsp corn starch
1 tbsp oyster sauce
1 tbsp soy sauce
1 tbsp honey
1 clove minced garlic
Cashews
Directions:
Cube and brown chicken in wok.
In sauce pan mix cold chicken stock and corn starch, heat over medium heat, add oyster sauce, soy sauce, honey and garlic until boiling, stirring regularly until it thickens.
Add veggies to chicken and stir-fry until cooked.
Pour brown sauce over chicken and vegetables and add cashews.
Serve with rice.
Next time I’ll add some red peppers and perhaps use a lesser amount of honey.
Tagged:Food. | 3 Comments »
We had another very successful weekend in the kitchen. We’ve been searching for a good brown sauce for Chinese dishes, and Ken pretty much nailed it on Saturday, turning out a wonderful batch of cashew chicken.
Next time, a little more heat, a little less honey, but overall: an excellent sauce!
We also experimented with oven-baked crab rangoons, rather than fried. They were tasty, but we missed the texture frying gives to the wonton wrappers.
We had an old-fashioned Sunday dinner again today, with a baked ham, potatoes, and the remainder of the green beans sauteed with mushrooms. That reminded me I was asked for the recipe and didn’t post it. We based it on this recipe, with some variations:
–we used half butter and half olive oil to saute the mushrooms and onions
–we used about half the mushrooms called for, if that
–we didn’t have shallots on hand, so we diced in half a medium yellow onion instead
If you’re cooking for 2-4 people, you could easily halve the recipe–two pounds of beans filled a large bowl; we had leftovers for several meals. But they do freeze and reheat well–we just microwaved the box we froze two weeks ago and they were fresh, crisp and tasty.
Finally, best for last, we tried out the basic version of No-Knead Bread that Tinky posted, and WOWEE! Absolutely fantastic!
Crusty, chewy, delicious! A gorgeous rustic European-style bread, and so easy to make. Trust me, try this recipe, and prepare to feel like a bread-baking genius at the fantastic loaves you turn out.
Since the basic recipe turned out so well, we’re now going to experiment with it: we’re going to try mixing in cloves of roasted garlic, and a sourdough version, and a beer variation. If we come up with anything truly spectacular, I’ll give you the details. Meanwhile, what are you doing still hanging around here? Get to baking!
Tagged:Food. | 10 Comments »
Breaking news: the next Flavia de Luce adventure is out! The Weed That Strings the Hangman’s Bag was published in the US on March 9th. As I tweeted earlier this week:
“Woo hoo, Flavia’s back!! And yes, I put myself on the hold list at the library before sending this alert.”
I’m # 72 on the hold list; the wait shouldn’t be too bad, since our library system has 45 copies of the book. I apologize to local friends for jumping on the list before telling you about it, but you already know I’m a teeny bit greedy about Miss Flavia. You can read her when I’m done. I can’t wait to see what exotic and murderous minutiae of English life we delve into this time.
My current reading selection, Uncle Tungsten, keeps reminding me of Miss de Luce, as Oliver Sacks reminisces over his boyhood explorations in chemistry. The chapter I read today touched on extracting scents from common plants; occasionally blowing up his work shed and/or gassing himself out of it; his surprise, in retrospect, about the substances he was allowed free rein with as a boy (e.g., potassium cyanide!); and stamp collecting. I would dearly love to introduce little Oliver to Flavia, and then observe from a safe distance!
Participating in Ada Lovelace Day 2010 was a great experience all the way around. Profiling a friend was an interesting experience; it’s so easy to let things go unsaid, to assume that we’re communicating our appreciation and respect adequately through actions. It’s good to sit down every once in a while and put our thoughts about others into words, whether or not we intend to let them (and/or the world at large) read it. I knew all along, of course, that I was writing the piece for publication, and that Deirdra would certainly read it; it was interesting how that pushed me to find just the right words. Also interesting: how very good those darned words were at hiding behind other, lesser words. Well, not interesting so much as frustrating!
An unexpected and pleasant benefit of participating was that new friends visited Bookish Dark, liked what they saw, and introduced themselves in the comments. Hello, Tinky and Grad, I’m so pleased you joined us! Even better, following their links back to their blogs uncovered new reading treasures for me to explore, although I can already tell that Tinky’s blog is going to be tough on my waistline. I’d best add another session of aqua aerobics to the weekly schedule!
One of the earlier drafts of my ALD post included a link to another Kickstarter project being run by friends of mine. I eventually deleted the reference, so as to not detract from the focus of the post. However, I still want to brag about these talented friends of mine, so let me talk them up a bit here: Corvus is my oldest friend (in terms of length of service, not absolute age) and Charles, having recently joined our gaming group, is the newest. Together, they’re cooking up a game that I simply can’t wait to play: Addicube. I’m already emotionally attached to furious little Angred, and really hoping I get the chance to nurture it out of its temper (if that’s what you do?) They have a little less than a month to go in their funding drive, and are just about halfway to their goal. Please have a look at their project description and, if you feel so inclined, pledge a little bit to the cause.
My darling has a bit of a cold, and I had a very long week, so I’ve declared a sickie-boo weekend at our house: we’re staying in, wearing pajamas all day, napping at will, and having lots of hot soup, tea, and TV. I’m thinking about giving Tinky’s No-Knead Bread (a/k/a Super Duper Olive Bread, a/k/a Awesome Parisian Artisan Bread) recipe a whirl. And who knows, with a schedule like this, you might actually get another post out of me before Monday. (Please don’t hold your breath or cancel any plans in hopes of this eventuality.) To all my friends, old and new: have a wonderful weekend!
Tagged:Books, Friends, Life. | 1 Comment »