Tomorrow, I turn 27. And therefore, I'll have three years to publish at least one book by the time I turn 30. "What If They Lived?" was an impressive feat at 26, but I want to do it again. And hopefully again, and again, and again.
I have my novel, and I have my book about the presidents' reading habits. One of those two must be in print by then. I've embraced the challenge in the research thus far, I know the challenges still to come, and though whichever I'm done with first won't be a free ride like "What If They Lived?" was, I'm prepared to do all the hard work that comes with seeking to get a book published.
Today, I rest and read. Tomorrow, I celebrate another year of life to enjoy. Tuesday, the day before my sister's birthday (yep, a one-day gap, though we're five years apart, with her born in 1989), I get back to work. I will not waste one day of these next three years. Having a book published is really addictive. I'd like to get that feeling again.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Friday, March 18, 2011
A Different Casselberry. Or Was That Always Casselberry?
Living in Casselberry, Florida from the late '80s to the early '90s, when I was beginning to develop the soft, creamy center that is now me (Translation: I was 5 in 1989), the neighborhood you lived in was generally the only neighborhood you really knew. Passing signs for different streets, you'd notice the names, but you'd be thinking more about what there was to do when you got home.
I remember our house (235 Warbler Lane), the big tree in our front yard that I fell out of once, the basketball hoop next to the driveway, the tangerine tree at the left side of our house that died during a bitterly cold winter, the salamanders in the patio, the large backyard that led to a small lake, and the space shuttle launches we'd see while standing in the backyard.
I received a Media Mail package today from Onestopmediashop, a seller on Amazon, located where? Casselberry, Florida. 1783 Laurel Brook Loop. Fast service, and the "Angels in America" 2-disc set arrived tightly sealed and exactly as advertised. But Laurel Brook Loop? When did this happen? We lived in the Deer Run development, and surely there were other developments around us, but what would compel someone to name an area Laurel Brook Loop? How much has the area expanded since we last visited in 2003? I'm not shocked. I never expected the place to remain as it was when I lived there, just as I don't expect Walt Disney World to remain the same (and it hasn't, though I am disappointed at the useless soundtrack they have now for the Tomorrowland Transit Authority, which needlessly advertises the attractions in Tomorrowland, because not only can we see them, but I'm sure those in Tomorrowland probably walked around and saw everything before getting on the TTA, because you go on there for a break. Of course there are the exceptions like me, with it being one of my favorite attractions, who could have ridden it all day), but who comes up with that name? Are there laurels? Is there a brook?
I know the names shouldn't be taken literally. In fact, I don't remember seeing warblers around when we lived there. But even if an area expands, as I'm sure my old neighborhood has, there should be a name that can bind closely with what it represents, not something as disparate as "Laurel Brook Loop." I've no doubt it is a loop, and it's creative on the end, instead of "Laurel Brook Cul-de-Sac." But there are very few names in Florida anymore that retain a spirit of the state. Lake Okeechobee thankfully still has its name (though it wasn't the original name, as it was also called Macaco and Mayaimi, the latter of which became Miami, and more suitable for another part of the state), but that's not enough. I admit that there may not be many pleasing features around the land being built upon to merit a poetic name. But just try something. I know that these builders probably don't care much about what name is attached to these areas, so long as the houses are built and people buy. I get that. But in the hopefully ever-present desire to appeal to people in order to turn a profit, why not see if there's any poets that need a job? Riffle through literary journals. Comb college campuses and see what teachers there have had works published.
Warbler Lane was nice. For me, it was a happy home, and I'm always reminded also of going to Walt Disney World every weekend, and sometimes during the week just for dinner. In fact, I think that may be why I eventually became a writer, because I had so much imagination all around me. But these companies, whoever they are, should strive for names that connect, names that could mean more than just "That way home."
Hell, hire me. I'll think of something.
I remember our house (235 Warbler Lane), the big tree in our front yard that I fell out of once, the basketball hoop next to the driveway, the tangerine tree at the left side of our house that died during a bitterly cold winter, the salamanders in the patio, the large backyard that led to a small lake, and the space shuttle launches we'd see while standing in the backyard.
I received a Media Mail package today from Onestopmediashop, a seller on Amazon, located where? Casselberry, Florida. 1783 Laurel Brook Loop. Fast service, and the "Angels in America" 2-disc set arrived tightly sealed and exactly as advertised. But Laurel Brook Loop? When did this happen? We lived in the Deer Run development, and surely there were other developments around us, but what would compel someone to name an area Laurel Brook Loop? How much has the area expanded since we last visited in 2003? I'm not shocked. I never expected the place to remain as it was when I lived there, just as I don't expect Walt Disney World to remain the same (and it hasn't, though I am disappointed at the useless soundtrack they have now for the Tomorrowland Transit Authority, which needlessly advertises the attractions in Tomorrowland, because not only can we see them, but I'm sure those in Tomorrowland probably walked around and saw everything before getting on the TTA, because you go on there for a break. Of course there are the exceptions like me, with it being one of my favorite attractions, who could have ridden it all day), but who comes up with that name? Are there laurels? Is there a brook?
I know the names shouldn't be taken literally. In fact, I don't remember seeing warblers around when we lived there. But even if an area expands, as I'm sure my old neighborhood has, there should be a name that can bind closely with what it represents, not something as disparate as "Laurel Brook Loop." I've no doubt it is a loop, and it's creative on the end, instead of "Laurel Brook Cul-de-Sac." But there are very few names in Florida anymore that retain a spirit of the state. Lake Okeechobee thankfully still has its name (though it wasn't the original name, as it was also called Macaco and Mayaimi, the latter of which became Miami, and more suitable for another part of the state), but that's not enough. I admit that there may not be many pleasing features around the land being built upon to merit a poetic name. But just try something. I know that these builders probably don't care much about what name is attached to these areas, so long as the houses are built and people buy. I get that. But in the hopefully ever-present desire to appeal to people in order to turn a profit, why not see if there's any poets that need a job? Riffle through literary journals. Comb college campuses and see what teachers there have had works published.
Warbler Lane was nice. For me, it was a happy home, and I'm always reminded also of going to Walt Disney World every weekend, and sometimes during the week just for dinner. In fact, I think that may be why I eventually became a writer, because I had so much imagination all around me. But these companies, whoever they are, should strive for names that connect, names that could mean more than just "That way home."
Hell, hire me. I'll think of something.
Baker, California
Michael Buble was the amiable subordinate to Kelly Ripa on "Live with Regis & Kelly" this morning. My mom has this stuff on while she's on the computer next to the TV in the living room (which is where I camp out for the rest of the day when I'm doing book-related research, or on the couch when I'm not and prefer to while away the hours reading).
If that music thing doesn't work out for Buble, he'd make an excellent permanent co-host with Ripa when the endlessly kvetching Regis finally leaves. They have a friendly, playful rapport that I don't think would ever be tiring. And ever since she learned that she'll have the top job once the anachronistic carcass mutters his way out the door, she's gotten a lot smarter. She's more engaging, more engaged, and I spend a lot less time wishing bad things on her in my head.
And still my mind wanders. I can't focus entirely on that show. I had "Best Food Writing 2010" in front of me, putting bookmark after bookmark into the beginning pages of these absorbing writings, to look up those writers later, and I watched "Live with Kelly and Buble", and I thought not about the people that are devoted to these morning shows, but rather about Baker. Baker, California. A part of the Mojave Desert that does not need Regis & Kelly for morning entertainment. It has its own.
Always halfway to Las Vegas, this is where we stop. This is where we get out of the car, outside the gas-station-cum-food-court, and look for something to eat. This is where you'll find a Big Boy restaurant with the big statue of the kid in the red-and-white checkered overalls. There's also the Mad Greek. And it's where you'll pass by a store selling "alien jerky", doing a double-take before you inevitably pull back around and park in its lot, which includes a car off to the side with an alien family inside. This doesn't look like a place where they'd shoot aliens with high-tech weaponry for jerky. Maybe in some unseen shacks somewhere nearby. But not here. They've got all kinds of jerky in that place, all with a relatively hefty price, but the novelty is why you're there. You're also there for the samples they have on hand, and to look at the t-shirts advertising the "Area 51 Casino" and other shirts with many Men in Black on them. The jerky is worth it. Buy a bag or two. You'll find a flavor that suits you. All smoky, one of the many reasons to travel this country and perhaps the world. I don't know about the latter, since I'm happy in this country.
I always forget the name of the gas station. It's right on the building when we walk in, but given enough distance between the time we last went to Las Vegas and now, I don't remember it. I do remember the claw machine when we walk in, and a gumball machine that has $20 bills tucked into those clear egg cases, among gumballs. I remember the rack with various tourist advertisements and publications, and they always have copies of the weekend publication that the Las Vegas Review-Journal has, with reviews of the show of the week and other writings about what's going on in Las Vegas.
Some people are here to get gas to continue on, some are here to eat, to use the bathroom, or just to get a drink. I'm here to see what's being sold that I don't find near home. I spot all the usual snacks that are easy in a car: Potato chips, pretzels, nuts, and a lot of sodas behind glass doors. What interests me most are the books on racks, novelty books, some trying to get close to Uncle John's Bathroom Reader series, but not quite getting there. There are word-find books for kids, coloring books, some toys, some foam airplanes. Magnets, of course. In fact, the magnet I got the last time we went there on the way back from Las Vegas has a sweating donkey, a thermometer, and the words, "My Ass is Sweating in Baker." My kind of humor and an oversized magnet, compared to the others being sold.
So why would I think of Baker while watching Kelly & Buble? It was a little after 9 a.m. I'm on the couch reading "Best Food Writing 2010." My mom is on the computer. This is our morning. And I love my morning, but I sometimes wonder about other mornings, like the morning in Baker. The bearded guy behind the counter I saw last time: Does he still work there? Does he work the morning shift sometimes? Where does he live? What led him to this job? Is there another job he really wants?
I also think about the people behind the counters of those small versions of A&W, TCBY, Pizza Hut, and Subway. 75 pounds ago, I always went for A&W. A burger and fries and a root beer float, and a few of my sister's fried cheese curds. The next time we go to Vegas, I'm choosing from Subway. Even on what I'd consider kind-of sort-of a vacation (Because it's also work, being that we still want to move there), I still have to watch what I eat. This isn't like that first time in Vegas anymore when I had three steaks in three days. I loved the experience, but I don't need those experiences again. Not for the sake of my health.
I like this rest stop. It knows what it is and it lives up to its purpose. There's nothing it tries to do that doesn't match with what it is. You want to eat, get gas, piss, they've got everything for all of that. The people behind the counters are most interesting. They know this desert better than I ever will. And yet again, my curiosity pokes me hard, making me wonder how those people got here. In summer, forget the desert. But otherwise, if the resources suit you, if there's everything you need, the desert looks peaceful enough to live in. But I wonder if any of those souls at the counters are wanderers. Are they looking for anything? Or are they just wandering because that's who they are? How long have they worked at these jobs? I also think about the person who checks in on these locations, how often A&W keeps tabs on this Baker location, and the same for Subway.
And then we get in the car, pull out of that lot, and that gas station is way behind us. We've passed the world's largest thermometer, and we're on that road to Las Vegas. I'm looking ahead to the billboards advertising Vegas shows and attractions. I'm looking ahead to our room at America's Best Value Inn on Tropicana Avenue, hauling in the luggage, and decompressing from the drive, and, about half an hour to 45 minutes later, getting back in the car and quickly reacquainting ourselves with the area. But in the back of my mind, Baker is still there. It's always been there. It's where I keep my curiosity, right next to the soda dispensers. And sometimes it jumps down from there, and turns that book rack, wondering about those authors, if they ever think about where their books ended up, such as here. What a good place to be.
(God Bless Google!: The Grewal Travel Center. The gas is provided by Valero. And A&W.)
If that music thing doesn't work out for Buble, he'd make an excellent permanent co-host with Ripa when the endlessly kvetching Regis finally leaves. They have a friendly, playful rapport that I don't think would ever be tiring. And ever since she learned that she'll have the top job once the anachronistic carcass mutters his way out the door, she's gotten a lot smarter. She's more engaging, more engaged, and I spend a lot less time wishing bad things on her in my head.
And still my mind wanders. I can't focus entirely on that show. I had "Best Food Writing 2010" in front of me, putting bookmark after bookmark into the beginning pages of these absorbing writings, to look up those writers later, and I watched "Live with Kelly and Buble", and I thought not about the people that are devoted to these morning shows, but rather about Baker. Baker, California. A part of the Mojave Desert that does not need Regis & Kelly for morning entertainment. It has its own.
Always halfway to Las Vegas, this is where we stop. This is where we get out of the car, outside the gas-station-cum-food-court, and look for something to eat. This is where you'll find a Big Boy restaurant with the big statue of the kid in the red-and-white checkered overalls. There's also the Mad Greek. And it's where you'll pass by a store selling "alien jerky", doing a double-take before you inevitably pull back around and park in its lot, which includes a car off to the side with an alien family inside. This doesn't look like a place where they'd shoot aliens with high-tech weaponry for jerky. Maybe in some unseen shacks somewhere nearby. But not here. They've got all kinds of jerky in that place, all with a relatively hefty price, but the novelty is why you're there. You're also there for the samples they have on hand, and to look at the t-shirts advertising the "Area 51 Casino" and other shirts with many Men in Black on them. The jerky is worth it. Buy a bag or two. You'll find a flavor that suits you. All smoky, one of the many reasons to travel this country and perhaps the world. I don't know about the latter, since I'm happy in this country.
I always forget the name of the gas station. It's right on the building when we walk in, but given enough distance between the time we last went to Las Vegas and now, I don't remember it. I do remember the claw machine when we walk in, and a gumball machine that has $20 bills tucked into those clear egg cases, among gumballs. I remember the rack with various tourist advertisements and publications, and they always have copies of the weekend publication that the Las Vegas Review-Journal has, with reviews of the show of the week and other writings about what's going on in Las Vegas.
Some people are here to get gas to continue on, some are here to eat, to use the bathroom, or just to get a drink. I'm here to see what's being sold that I don't find near home. I spot all the usual snacks that are easy in a car: Potato chips, pretzels, nuts, and a lot of sodas behind glass doors. What interests me most are the books on racks, novelty books, some trying to get close to Uncle John's Bathroom Reader series, but not quite getting there. There are word-find books for kids, coloring books, some toys, some foam airplanes. Magnets, of course. In fact, the magnet I got the last time we went there on the way back from Las Vegas has a sweating donkey, a thermometer, and the words, "My Ass is Sweating in Baker." My kind of humor and an oversized magnet, compared to the others being sold.
So why would I think of Baker while watching Kelly & Buble? It was a little after 9 a.m. I'm on the couch reading "Best Food Writing 2010." My mom is on the computer. This is our morning. And I love my morning, but I sometimes wonder about other mornings, like the morning in Baker. The bearded guy behind the counter I saw last time: Does he still work there? Does he work the morning shift sometimes? Where does he live? What led him to this job? Is there another job he really wants?
I also think about the people behind the counters of those small versions of A&W, TCBY, Pizza Hut, and Subway. 75 pounds ago, I always went for A&W. A burger and fries and a root beer float, and a few of my sister's fried cheese curds. The next time we go to Vegas, I'm choosing from Subway. Even on what I'd consider kind-of sort-of a vacation (Because it's also work, being that we still want to move there), I still have to watch what I eat. This isn't like that first time in Vegas anymore when I had three steaks in three days. I loved the experience, but I don't need those experiences again. Not for the sake of my health.
I like this rest stop. It knows what it is and it lives up to its purpose. There's nothing it tries to do that doesn't match with what it is. You want to eat, get gas, piss, they've got everything for all of that. The people behind the counters are most interesting. They know this desert better than I ever will. And yet again, my curiosity pokes me hard, making me wonder how those people got here. In summer, forget the desert. But otherwise, if the resources suit you, if there's everything you need, the desert looks peaceful enough to live in. But I wonder if any of those souls at the counters are wanderers. Are they looking for anything? Or are they just wandering because that's who they are? How long have they worked at these jobs? I also think about the person who checks in on these locations, how often A&W keeps tabs on this Baker location, and the same for Subway.
And then we get in the car, pull out of that lot, and that gas station is way behind us. We've passed the world's largest thermometer, and we're on that road to Las Vegas. I'm looking ahead to the billboards advertising Vegas shows and attractions. I'm looking ahead to our room at America's Best Value Inn on Tropicana Avenue, hauling in the luggage, and decompressing from the drive, and, about half an hour to 45 minutes later, getting back in the car and quickly reacquainting ourselves with the area. But in the back of my mind, Baker is still there. It's always been there. It's where I keep my curiosity, right next to the soda dispensers. And sometimes it jumps down from there, and turns that book rack, wondering about those authors, if they ever think about where their books ended up, such as here. What a good place to be.
(God Bless Google!: The Grewal Travel Center. The gas is provided by Valero. And A&W.)
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Food Writing as Research
Until this morning, I didn't think I was reading food writing for any other reason than just being influenced by my sister, a budding chef who believes that all she does for her deviled eggs is combine such ingredients as cooked egg yolks, mayonnaise, paprika, and whatever else she puts in it. She's too modest. It's not only the ingredients, but also what the person puts into it. She's got talent that I hope propels her to the highest echelons of cooking and food appreciation.
Her influence began with me watching more and more cooking shows, and finding a favorite chef in Nigella Lawson. It's not only how sexy she is (She can order me around with a spatula any time), but how sensual she is about food, the passion she has for it on television and in her books. It almost feels uncomfortably voyeuristic when she's cooking, but I love it. I live that same kind of passion with books.
I also began watching "America's Test Kitchen", "Cook's Country from America's Test Kitchen", and the occasional out-of-the-way cooking show. Not the Neelys or Paula Deen, but just episodes of shows about regional foods, about how various foods are made ("Unwrapped" especially. It's like Marc Summers has been with me throughout my entire life, because I watched him all the time on "Double Dare" and "What Would You Do?" when I was a kid), and some food competitions, but not many.
I thought I had checked out "Best Food Writing 2000", as well as the 2005 and 2010 editions from my library because I was just following what I had done with those shows. I just wanted to read about food.
Not so.
When I read a chapter in "Best Food Writing 2000" of a selection from "Kitchen Confidential" by Anthony Bourdain, I felt like I was being violently slapped around while reading it. But instead of running away, I wanted to drop to my knees and thank Bourdain so much for doing that to me.
I can't write like that. I don't have the temperament that's ultimately required for it. But I know that in my novel, which is partly a love letter to literary journalism, I want it to feel like that at times. The rush of the movements of a kitchen that Bourdain writes about, I want some of my paragraphs to feel like that in describing, I don't know, maybe a rollercoaster or the near end of a long day spent at a theme park, or maybe if I decide to, a carnival-like midway section with all those games. I ordered a copy of "Kitchen Confidential" from abebooks.com last night because I want to read the entire thing. And I put Bourdain's three other books on hold as well.
I know now that I'm also reading these "Best Food Writing" books and soon enough the five "Cornbread Nation" books (which celebrate the best of Southern food writing) for detail, for how these writers describe their experiences with food. A lot of that novel is going to be detailed like that. I want to get in close, to have a reader feel everything going on, especially with the strange slant I have planned. I know how I want my novel to begin, and while I'm not entirely sold on what I wrote yesterday, I know it's the tone I want. I don't know how I want this story to unfold yet, but I've got time. Research breeds ideas. And just like the Bourdain revelation, I'm sure there's more to come in these books.
I don't need my small legal pads yet to jot down necessary information while I read, since I haven't yet reached those particular books. But this research is so much fun! And that's my first and only consideration whenever I start a writing project: It has to be fun. The writing will inevitably be difficult, but I know that it will be fun.
Her influence began with me watching more and more cooking shows, and finding a favorite chef in Nigella Lawson. It's not only how sexy she is (She can order me around with a spatula any time), but how sensual she is about food, the passion she has for it on television and in her books. It almost feels uncomfortably voyeuristic when she's cooking, but I love it. I live that same kind of passion with books.
I also began watching "America's Test Kitchen", "Cook's Country from America's Test Kitchen", and the occasional out-of-the-way cooking show. Not the Neelys or Paula Deen, but just episodes of shows about regional foods, about how various foods are made ("Unwrapped" especially. It's like Marc Summers has been with me throughout my entire life, because I watched him all the time on "Double Dare" and "What Would You Do?" when I was a kid), and some food competitions, but not many.
I thought I had checked out "Best Food Writing 2000", as well as the 2005 and 2010 editions from my library because I was just following what I had done with those shows. I just wanted to read about food.
Not so.
When I read a chapter in "Best Food Writing 2000" of a selection from "Kitchen Confidential" by Anthony Bourdain, I felt like I was being violently slapped around while reading it. But instead of running away, I wanted to drop to my knees and thank Bourdain so much for doing that to me.
I can't write like that. I don't have the temperament that's ultimately required for it. But I know that in my novel, which is partly a love letter to literary journalism, I want it to feel like that at times. The rush of the movements of a kitchen that Bourdain writes about, I want some of my paragraphs to feel like that in describing, I don't know, maybe a rollercoaster or the near end of a long day spent at a theme park, or maybe if I decide to, a carnival-like midway section with all those games. I ordered a copy of "Kitchen Confidential" from abebooks.com last night because I want to read the entire thing. And I put Bourdain's three other books on hold as well.
I know now that I'm also reading these "Best Food Writing" books and soon enough the five "Cornbread Nation" books (which celebrate the best of Southern food writing) for detail, for how these writers describe their experiences with food. A lot of that novel is going to be detailed like that. I want to get in close, to have a reader feel everything going on, especially with the strange slant I have planned. I know how I want my novel to begin, and while I'm not entirely sold on what I wrote yesterday, I know it's the tone I want. I don't know how I want this story to unfold yet, but I've got time. Research breeds ideas. And just like the Bourdain revelation, I'm sure there's more to come in these books.
I don't need my small legal pads yet to jot down necessary information while I read, since I haven't yet reached those particular books. But this research is so much fun! And that's my first and only consideration whenever I start a writing project: It has to be fun. The writing will inevitably be difficult, but I know that it will be fun.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
It's Over
Yesterday was the day. March 14. The County of Los Angeles has cut off the Valencia, Newhall and Canyon Country libraries from the other branches in the library system. Whatever I put on hold now has to be available at those particular branches or I'm sunk.
I've lost most of Quentin Crisp's books, save for the one or two at my Valencia library. Ditto for Bukowski, though the loss is far more wide-ranging, considering that the only Bukowski book I recall being readily available at Valencia was his last one, his novel "Pulp." I recall a copy of "Post Office" being next to it, but I haven't seen it in a while and I'm not even sure if it's still available at that branch. I don't need it anyway, since I have my own copy, but all those books of his poetry are truly a grievous loss. I still would have liked to have them all available so I could go back to the ones I don't have, but don't feel a surging need to own.
I've also lost "Lawnboy" by Paul Lisicky, and I remember the copy from the West Hollywood branch that I checked out often. I hope someone else gives it the same attention I did.
All the books that I checked out on Saturday from other branches, I now feel more compelled to read than I did before. I've checked out "Best Food Writing 2000" twice before. I'm now on page 124. And I know that I'd better get to those books related to my presidential research. Otherwise, I'll end up denting my savings account again beyond the dents that have already been made for my own utter pleasure.
I've never had to be so focused on particular library branches. In Pembroke Pines, Florida, at that library, I remember a cart being brought out with a few of my holds on it, mostly movies from other libraries, and I didn't even think to see which libraries they came from. I wanted to see those movies and that's all that mattered to me.
But now, I can't just search for a title and immediately put it on hold. I have to actually look at the listings, to see if hopefully one of those three branches has it. I think this will also lead to me looking in the folder I have here in the bookmarks in Internet Explorer with links to so many books listed on Amazon and other sites. For pleasure reading, I'm going to have to go through those to see what I really want to read and hope that I can get it.
The City of Santa Clarita has spent $1 million dollars to create this new library system. They're going to borrow $8 million dollars to pay for "buying buildings and materials", according to the article on The Signal website (http://www.the-signal.com/section/36/article/41837). And now it's said that it could take a decade to pay it all back. The City is also paying a private company, LSSI, $1.3 million to operate the libraries in the first year.
We would have been better off remaining with the County of Los Angeles. This much money would not have been wasted and we would have remained connected to the County, which is far more important than this unnecessary isolationism just so the City Council can feel more powerful. A City Council whose members do not have library cards. Figure that out.
One thing's for sure: Don't even think about trying to get a new book a month or so after it comes out. That holds list is going to be a lot longer for the latest releases and take a lot more time. I'm lucky I'm more interested in the distant past than the present.
In other book-related news, while reading "Best Food Writing 2000", I was suddenly seized with the need to write, and I grabbed one of my yellow legal pads, and wrote two pages of what I think might be the beginning of my novel. I haven't done any significant research for it yet, but I know the basic story, and I know the style I want for it, and I've had a lot of experience on my own with the subject matter, so I just began writing. It reads well, and I know it might not fit (I've already noticed one detail that makes me question the logic of it), but it's a proper start.
I've lost most of Quentin Crisp's books, save for the one or two at my Valencia library. Ditto for Bukowski, though the loss is far more wide-ranging, considering that the only Bukowski book I recall being readily available at Valencia was his last one, his novel "Pulp." I recall a copy of "Post Office" being next to it, but I haven't seen it in a while and I'm not even sure if it's still available at that branch. I don't need it anyway, since I have my own copy, but all those books of his poetry are truly a grievous loss. I still would have liked to have them all available so I could go back to the ones I don't have, but don't feel a surging need to own.
I've also lost "Lawnboy" by Paul Lisicky, and I remember the copy from the West Hollywood branch that I checked out often. I hope someone else gives it the same attention I did.
All the books that I checked out on Saturday from other branches, I now feel more compelled to read than I did before. I've checked out "Best Food Writing 2000" twice before. I'm now on page 124. And I know that I'd better get to those books related to my presidential research. Otherwise, I'll end up denting my savings account again beyond the dents that have already been made for my own utter pleasure.
I've never had to be so focused on particular library branches. In Pembroke Pines, Florida, at that library, I remember a cart being brought out with a few of my holds on it, mostly movies from other libraries, and I didn't even think to see which libraries they came from. I wanted to see those movies and that's all that mattered to me.
But now, I can't just search for a title and immediately put it on hold. I have to actually look at the listings, to see if hopefully one of those three branches has it. I think this will also lead to me looking in the folder I have here in the bookmarks in Internet Explorer with links to so many books listed on Amazon and other sites. For pleasure reading, I'm going to have to go through those to see what I really want to read and hope that I can get it.
The City of Santa Clarita has spent $1 million dollars to create this new library system. They're going to borrow $8 million dollars to pay for "buying buildings and materials", according to the article on The Signal website (http://www.the-signal.com/section/36/article/41837). And now it's said that it could take a decade to pay it all back. The City is also paying a private company, LSSI, $1.3 million to operate the libraries in the first year.
We would have been better off remaining with the County of Los Angeles. This much money would not have been wasted and we would have remained connected to the County, which is far more important than this unnecessary isolationism just so the City Council can feel more powerful. A City Council whose members do not have library cards. Figure that out.
One thing's for sure: Don't even think about trying to get a new book a month or so after it comes out. That holds list is going to be a lot longer for the latest releases and take a lot more time. I'm lucky I'm more interested in the distant past than the present.
In other book-related news, while reading "Best Food Writing 2000", I was suddenly seized with the need to write, and I grabbed one of my yellow legal pads, and wrote two pages of what I think might be the beginning of my novel. I haven't done any significant research for it yet, but I know the basic story, and I know the style I want for it, and I've had a lot of experience on my own with the subject matter, so I just began writing. It reads well, and I know it might not fit (I've already noticed one detail that makes me question the logic of it), but it's a proper start.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
The History of a Book
I started "The Man Within" by Graham Greene late yesterday afternoon, and finished it in the middle of this morning. It's a fine, full sketch of a man who believes himself to be cowardly, but a thin story.
Sometimes you're fortunate to find a book that contains not only the story the author has intended (whether he or she has succeeded is entirely up to the reader), but a history that tells its own story, even with the names and personalities of those who read this particular copy left out. That's the case with this copy of "The Man Within", which came from the Angelo M. Iacoboni Library in Lakewood.
The novel was first published in 1929, and under that piece of information on a page before the start, it says "Reissued by the Viking Press in April 1947." So this copy I hold might have been from 1947. And yet, the due dates stamped on the page after the cover go from June 17, 1969 to November 12, 1987. So the book might very well have come into the possession of this particular library in 1969.
There is one trend for older books that I like. It's the text itself being carefully removed from its original covers and placed within what seem to be reinforced cardboard covers of an aqua-like color, with "The Man Within --- Greene" (the dashes and Greene are under the title, which starts at the top with "The" and then moves down a level for "Man", and then again for "Within." Thus:
The
Man
Within
---
Greene
The color of these covers are the same as the copy of "Subways are for Sleeping" that resides at the Hawthorne branch. The copy I bought from the Norwalk branch has grassy green covers. I like some books being presented this way because there's nothing to be assumed or considered from the covers. It's as plain as can be. The real importance lies with the words to be consumed by the reader.
Now, it's possible that this book had seen times earlier than June 17, 1969. Perhaps the pocket glued onto the inside front cover was for due date cards, which perhaps were no longer used at this branch by 1969. On the last page, a few inches down from "THE END", there's a date written in pen, "1956." But it seems to me that the pen marking would have faded considerably since then. It looks to be about maybe a decade old or just a tad more.
Under that marking is a blue stamping that says "REBOUND SEP 10 1968." A repair for this book. Maybe that's when these covers were placed against these 316 pages. Sturdier, and the previous covers had probably already begun to fall apart from so much use. I hope there was so much use. It is Graham Greene after all, even in this light, minor beginning which led to many masterpieces.
I wonder about the many people before me who checked out this book. Who was "JUN 27 1973"? Was "JAN 12 1977" as avid a reader as I am? Had "JAN 10 1981" checked out this book to read for a book club? Was "FEB 28 1986" in his or her teens, and had found a few novels by Graham Greene on their grandparents' bookshelves? Were they so taken by those later works that they wanted to see what he had done in his early writing life?
There was even relatively recent history in this book. I got to page 259 and found a square of paper, facedown on the page. It was a receipt from the automated checkout machines you use to check out books yourself. It had come from someone who likely reads one book at a time, because this was the only book they had checked out on their card. I like this person, because they give their full attention to one book, but I could never do that. I need lots of books every single day. After I'd had that nasty bout of anxiety last year, Mom thought I might also have been overwhelmed by the number of books I checked out, and said that I should only check out three books a week. That worked out well enough in recovery, but as I reprioritized my life, as I lost lots of weight, I realized that my great love in life is books. And I was not going to live on only three books a week. The stacks are here, as they were when I was that much heavier person, but I love them so. I love all the possibilities they contain, and I know that if I become bored by one book (Such as it was with "A Cup of Friendship" by Deborah Rodriguez which, despite the novelty of the center of it being a coffee shop in Kabul, the prose was too plain for me to want to proceed. I skimmed a few random pages, found it remained that way through the rest of the book, and gave up. The former me would have slogged his way through that book. But if a book has me bored now, why should I suffer?), there's always another possibility waiting.
The person who had checked out "The Man Within" had done so on February 7, 2009, with the due date on February 28. Two years ago. I wonder what that person thought of this book. I wonder if, like me, they decided to read through all of Graham Greene's works. I especially would like to know if they did, and also what they thought of "Travels with My Aunt" which I love dearly, and am proud to have it in my collection. I love the movie adaptation equally because it still hews to the spirit of the book, while becoming its own work. I wouldn't mind if that person didn't like "Travels with My Aunt." Different opinions make the world worth living in each day, adding color by way of the minds that harbor those opinions, those minds shaped by influences different from mine.
I've now reached "Stamboul Train" (published in the United States as "Orient Express", but this Penguin edition has the original title), after being unable to find "The Name of Action" and "Rumour at Nightfall" in the County of Los Angeles library catalog. I will get to those one day, since I want to see how much Greene improved with "The Name of Action" after "The Man Within", but the copies floating around on the Internet are prohibitively expensive. There are copies for $136, $600, $120, $250. Not for me. Maybe Penguin will republish Greene's works and make it easier on me. I'm not disappointed. I can't wait to see what comes next. And having been introduced to the varied, well-drawn characters of "Stamboul Train", which capture my interest more than that first novel (It's indicative of Greene learning more and starting to become a major force in literature), it's going to be quite a grand adventure.
Sometimes you're fortunate to find a book that contains not only the story the author has intended (whether he or she has succeeded is entirely up to the reader), but a history that tells its own story, even with the names and personalities of those who read this particular copy left out. That's the case with this copy of "The Man Within", which came from the Angelo M. Iacoboni Library in Lakewood.
The novel was first published in 1929, and under that piece of information on a page before the start, it says "Reissued by the Viking Press in April 1947." So this copy I hold might have been from 1947. And yet, the due dates stamped on the page after the cover go from June 17, 1969 to November 12, 1987. So the book might very well have come into the possession of this particular library in 1969.
There is one trend for older books that I like. It's the text itself being carefully removed from its original covers and placed within what seem to be reinforced cardboard covers of an aqua-like color, with "The Man Within --- Greene" (the dashes and Greene are under the title, which starts at the top with "The" and then moves down a level for "Man", and then again for "Within." Thus:
The
Man
Within
---
Greene
The color of these covers are the same as the copy of "Subways are for Sleeping" that resides at the Hawthorne branch. The copy I bought from the Norwalk branch has grassy green covers. I like some books being presented this way because there's nothing to be assumed or considered from the covers. It's as plain as can be. The real importance lies with the words to be consumed by the reader.
Now, it's possible that this book had seen times earlier than June 17, 1969. Perhaps the pocket glued onto the inside front cover was for due date cards, which perhaps were no longer used at this branch by 1969. On the last page, a few inches down from "THE END", there's a date written in pen, "1956." But it seems to me that the pen marking would have faded considerably since then. It looks to be about maybe a decade old or just a tad more.
Under that marking is a blue stamping that says "REBOUND SEP 10 1968." A repair for this book. Maybe that's when these covers were placed against these 316 pages. Sturdier, and the previous covers had probably already begun to fall apart from so much use. I hope there was so much use. It is Graham Greene after all, even in this light, minor beginning which led to many masterpieces.
I wonder about the many people before me who checked out this book. Who was "JUN 27 1973"? Was "JAN 12 1977" as avid a reader as I am? Had "JAN 10 1981" checked out this book to read for a book club? Was "FEB 28 1986" in his or her teens, and had found a few novels by Graham Greene on their grandparents' bookshelves? Were they so taken by those later works that they wanted to see what he had done in his early writing life?
There was even relatively recent history in this book. I got to page 259 and found a square of paper, facedown on the page. It was a receipt from the automated checkout machines you use to check out books yourself. It had come from someone who likely reads one book at a time, because this was the only book they had checked out on their card. I like this person, because they give their full attention to one book, but I could never do that. I need lots of books every single day. After I'd had that nasty bout of anxiety last year, Mom thought I might also have been overwhelmed by the number of books I checked out, and said that I should only check out three books a week. That worked out well enough in recovery, but as I reprioritized my life, as I lost lots of weight, I realized that my great love in life is books. And I was not going to live on only three books a week. The stacks are here, as they were when I was that much heavier person, but I love them so. I love all the possibilities they contain, and I know that if I become bored by one book (Such as it was with "A Cup of Friendship" by Deborah Rodriguez which, despite the novelty of the center of it being a coffee shop in Kabul, the prose was too plain for me to want to proceed. I skimmed a few random pages, found it remained that way through the rest of the book, and gave up. The former me would have slogged his way through that book. But if a book has me bored now, why should I suffer?), there's always another possibility waiting.
The person who had checked out "The Man Within" had done so on February 7, 2009, with the due date on February 28. Two years ago. I wonder what that person thought of this book. I wonder if, like me, they decided to read through all of Graham Greene's works. I especially would like to know if they did, and also what they thought of "Travels with My Aunt" which I love dearly, and am proud to have it in my collection. I love the movie adaptation equally because it still hews to the spirit of the book, while becoming its own work. I wouldn't mind if that person didn't like "Travels with My Aunt." Different opinions make the world worth living in each day, adding color by way of the minds that harbor those opinions, those minds shaped by influences different from mine.
I've now reached "Stamboul Train" (published in the United States as "Orient Express", but this Penguin edition has the original title), after being unable to find "The Name of Action" and "Rumour at Nightfall" in the County of Los Angeles library catalog. I will get to those one day, since I want to see how much Greene improved with "The Name of Action" after "The Man Within", but the copies floating around on the Internet are prohibitively expensive. There are copies for $136, $600, $120, $250. Not for me. Maybe Penguin will republish Greene's works and make it easier on me. I'm not disappointed. I can't wait to see what comes next. And having been introduced to the varied, well-drawn characters of "Stamboul Train", which capture my interest more than that first novel (It's indicative of Greene learning more and starting to become a major force in literature), it's going to be quite a grand adventure.
Wow! You're a Rory and You Wrote a Book? What a Coincidence!
I went looking for a book by a Rory, involving a dock.
That's all I knew.
I went to the County of Los Angeles library website, thinking that all I would need is "dock Rory", under "Title." Nothing.
I went to Amazon. "dock Rory." I found it. "Down at the Docks" by Rory Nugent (How I discovered this book is fodder for a longer entry and you won't have to wait long, but not right now). The first time I read it, I got restless, though I think now it was no fault of the book. But after my mind hooked into this book again and reintroduced me to it just now, I decided on a new pursuit amidst all my other reading and writing-related pursuits:
I'm going to read all the books written by a Rory.
First, I've become one of the author Rorys. Secondly, whenever I search for only my first name on Google, I come upon Rorys who are golfers, musicians, artists, a chairmaker, a hot-tub installer, a politician, and other quite unique careers. I was blessed with this name. I ought to see how other writer Rorys are making good on the name.
That's all I knew.
I went to the County of Los Angeles library website, thinking that all I would need is "dock Rory", under "Title." Nothing.
I went to Amazon. "dock Rory." I found it. "Down at the Docks" by Rory Nugent (How I discovered this book is fodder for a longer entry and you won't have to wait long, but not right now). The first time I read it, I got restless, though I think now it was no fault of the book. But after my mind hooked into this book again and reintroduced me to it just now, I decided on a new pursuit amidst all my other reading and writing-related pursuits:
I'm going to read all the books written by a Rory.
First, I've become one of the author Rorys. Secondly, whenever I search for only my first name on Google, I come upon Rorys who are golfers, musicians, artists, a chairmaker, a hot-tub installer, a politician, and other quite unique careers. I was blessed with this name. I ought to see how other writer Rorys are making good on the name.
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