Book Blogger Appreciation

Greetings blog readers, I'm posting this as part of my self-nomination for the Book Bloggers Appreciation Week Award.  Don't worry, you'll get your regular daily post.  In the meantime I'm offering five of what I consider to be the quality Grade A posts of this blog.  For the benefit of potential new readers and the judges I will also include a description of the project.

A Librarian's Life in Books is a unique blog that uses plot, characters, subtext, themes, and brief moments or quotes to reflect on and analyze my life, profession, past, future, relationships, and my ideas.  I know this does not fit in with regular book blogs, but I feel that my blog offers something new to readers.  It allows them to look at books and their lives in a different light, and hopefully it will lead to deeper reflection and better reading, regardless of the material.

Without further muddling about, here's what I consider to be some of my best posts:

Day 25: My Freshman Year
Day 46: The Meaning of Wife
Day 51: The Stranger
Day 57: The Atlantis Code
Day 60: The Gone-Away World

Day 72: Deepwater

Deepwater by Matthew F. Jones.  ISBN: 9781582340593.

There's an awful lot of poker going on in this book, and not a whole lot else of interest.  Unless you want a glimpse into the Manly male psyche as perceived by someone who is probably not very Manly (judging by the slim biographical information and the outdated photo), this is definitely a "last resort" read.  I can't tell if the author was more obsessed with his own penis (in the guise of the main character's) or penises in general.  He certainly mentioned them often enough, and for some reason seems to think that just because a female lusts after a man it means she gets wet at the drop of a hat.  I'm not sure what to think about men who ignore female physiology, but it's probably nothing good.  I was going to talk about poker, so let's stop with the analyzing of overtly masculine imagery and phallic fiddlings and talk cards.

I've never been a big fan of gambling, but my fiance's extended family uses it as an excuse to get together and eat copious amounts of food while ridiculing each other all in the name of fun.  This usually occurs on bank (i.e. federal) holidays, so of course I was present at the last game on Memorial Day.  Now that I think of it, I'm pretty sure I met Danny's extended family a year ago on Memorial Day under the same circumstances.

I've occasionally played cards with them.  I don't mind it, although lately it hurts more than I care to admit to even lose the measly $5 we play with.  Poker is just not one of those games I care for.  On the one hand, you have to rely on your luck, on the other you have to rely on your ability to lie better than everyone else and/or be able to tell when they're lying to you.  These do not seem like characteristics that we should be proud of, even under fairly innocent circumstances such as poker games.

Part of the problem might be that I associate poker with my father, even though I don't recall him ever actually hosting poker games at our house.  He just seems like the kind of character who would host a game in order to fleece his friends in a "friendly" game.  I still picture him as he was in the late 90's, when I used to see him on a daily basis: with mostly black hair, going grey at the temples, salt and pepper beard, and a receded hair line with a bald pate at the back.  He had broad shoulders and a mid-sized midsection.  Not what you would qualify as fat, but definitely not fit or even just overweight.  He had substance to him, is the best way to describe it.  His mustache was faintly tinted yellow from his smoking.  To this day I cannot think of my father without thinking of the white pack of Kool mentholated cigarettes and the smell of nicotine.

His current appearance is still somewhat shocking to me, almost like he's become an old man overnight, although in the way of children, I've never considered him young.  He's older yes, but he's also lost something that gave him that substantial feel.  Yes, he's about 30 pounds thinner, but it's not just that.  He seems to have given up on living and is just letting life carry him along.  He's almost completely bald now with a thin strip of white hair running from temple to temple around the back of his head dome.  He lost the beard and mustache (the first time I saw him without them in years, I didn't recognize him and wasn't sure whether or not I should punch him to keep him from hugging me at my maternal grandmother's funeral).  He still smells like cigarettes and still smokes, although I imagine he'll have a little more incentive to stop with his recent bladder cancer. 

He just seems thin, without actually being skinny or skeletal.  It's like all the bitterness that's been inside him all this time has finally turned acidic and started eating him from the inside.  I don't know what my mother ever saw in him.  I don't know what even I ever saw in him that made me think I loved him.  There's so little left of him to love.  It's not that he doesn't have people to love him, or who would be willing to love him if he weren't so acerbic and sarcastic, it's that he focuses more on what he doesn't have and can't see past that.

He's one of those people who will die later than we expected him to, and when he does we'll all stand around and talk about what an asshole he was.  But he was so smart.  And had good taste in music.  And was occasionally a fun guy to be around.  But man was he an asshole.  He's just that kind of a guy, a bare husk of a man with no substance.

Day 71: Smoke and Mirrors

Smoke and Mirrors by Neil Gaiman. ISBN: 9780380789023.

Troll Bridge, Page 59-70.

"The main trouble with being in love with Louise was that we were best friends..."  page 164.

I've fallen in love with a number of best friends over the years.  The first was probably Andrew*, in third and fourth grade.  He was the "goofy" kid who made weird noises, but was generally well-liked by everyone.  I couldn't understand why people liked him so much when they didn't seem to like me very much and we were friends.  He's one of the only people I actually played with on the playground and I was tremendously upset when he started hanging out with my brother for awhile.  Unfortunately we were such good friends that I was no longer a girl, and he eventually revealed to me that he had a crush on Karen.  This effectively stopped my liking him because I didn't particularly care for Karen.  She was one of those girls who was a little too perfect and therefore I didn't like her.  I guess I figured that Andrew would at least have a little better taste and if he didn't like me or someone like me then I didn't want to date someone like that anyway.

In 9th grade I was slightly enamored with Darrell, who was actually an ex-boyfriend's best friend.  Strangely, since the ex-boyfriend and I parted on good terms, he really wanted Darrell and me to get together.  It never happened, and we didn't really even spend all that much time together outside of school.

Tenth grade was a big problem for me.  I was very much in love with my best friend, Brad.  We actually met on the bus.  I had just switched schools and the first time I saw him I figured he was a senior or junior and would be way too cool to talk to me.  Instead he sat directly in front of me, turned around in his seat and said, "Hi, I'm Brad," and we ended up talking for the entire 30 minute bus ride.  I never did tell him I liked him, but he must have had some inkling.  Everyone else certainly knew.

The problem isn't really falling in love with your best friend though.  The problem is not having your best friend love you back.  It was difficult for me to be around these people that I had such strong feelings for.  Granted, my definition of love changed and strengthened as I got older, but in some ways it was also a little easier because I became more mature.  I was able to deal with my feelings and not let them affect my actual relationship with my friends.  There have been other friends I was attracted to before I met my fiance, who were dating other people or who weren't romantically interested in me, and I kept my feelings to myself.  Whenever my friends guessed at my feelings they were usually polite enough not to point them out or we addressed them and moved on.  Now I don't have to worry about falling in love with my best friend anymore, because he loves me back.

*All names are changed, not that you'd ever be able to actually track these people down... assuming you had some weird desire to do so anyway.
**Post originally written June 2, 2010 to give the author a break.

Day 70: The Night Bus

The Night Bus by Janice Law. ISBN: 9780312848828.

There were some very okay parts of this book despite the mostly verbally abusive relationship between Cath and her husband.  Law doesn't seem to think it was a "bad" relationship, or even one that should have ended despite the fact that it did not appear to be healthy for either party.  Luckily the language and the actual writing in this book were good enough to stick with it and I pulled out a couple of very poignant moments.

Perhaps my favorite was when Cath realized that the 'key to happy endings is knowing when to close the book.'  How perfect is that?  I suppose it's probably not original in either phrasing or concept, but it's the first time I've come across it in awhile (or ever as far as I can remember).  I sort of started applying this to my own life and there are definite moments where I could have closed the book and it would have seemed like ... perhaps not a fairy tale, but a somewhat interesting memoir.  My time at Antioch would probably make a hilarious romp through college life, working at and quitting Allstate might be an interesting read for those who have had to deal with any kind of insurance, and the culmination of my graduate career was definitely a high note as it included an engagement and the hopes of a job that paid well (if not fantastically) and that I loved.

It's those moments in-between that make the Good Story feel like a bad ending.  Yes, I'm currently going through 9+ months of hardship and separation from the people I love.  I am living in limbo.  But next month I could be starting off a brand new adventure filled with lots of Good Things that will fall into place.  So I didn't get that job in Tennessee, maybe I just haven't suffered and struggled enough, or maybe I'm not really cut out to be a librarian.  Maybe my blog will actually get me further than the five years of various library jobs I've had (although for that to happen I need a little more word of mouth advertising -- hint hint).  I would hate to give up being a librarian, but I could be happy doing something else, and I'll still have the degree.  There are many ways to get into librarianship and now is either not the time and/or I am not approaching it from an angle that will work right now.

I don't know what I'm going to do.  I know that after ALA I will be signing up for a temp. company.  I've done that before and ended up getting the job at Allstate.  I might actually prefer something in the factory sector right now.  I almost want a job that I hate so that I'm motivated to go out and do something to better my situation.  I just know that I cannot bear to bring myself to fill out another application or write another cover letter.  I can't do it.  Not the way things are going right now.  I really thought I had the job in Tennessee, but I lost it to someone with more experience.  There are so many people right now who have far more experience than I do, and I just can't compete.  So I'm moving on.  Hopefully a library job will fall in my lap some day, and I'll probably keep applying, but this has gone on too long.  I've indulged my fantasies too long.  And I can't keep living on savings.

I'm not closing the book here.  I just switching volumes because the current one is a little too much to struggle through in one straight reading.  I need a little Pratchett to go along with my Hawthorne.  When all is said and done, I'm sure my life will have a much happier ending than what I'm going through right now.  It's hard to remember that, but it's what I need to focus on, or else I'm just going to give up altogether.

PS: Send donations (i.e. pity money...or books...or cookies).

Day 69: The Night Bus

The Night Bus by Janice Law.  ISBN: 9780312848828.

I almost hate books that include amnesia as a major plot point.  It's usually not interesting enough to keep my attention for more than 50 pages or so before a new gimmick has to be thrown in.  The Night Bus has only made it this far because I'm enjoying the lyrical prose and the detailed fragments of memory returning.

I think amnesia gets so much coverage because it's something we're all deeply afraid of.  No one wants to wake up one day and not remember who they are.  But strangely we sort of do that every day, in bits and pieces.  Our memories are in a constant process of deterioration, and then there are things that don't get remembered at all simply because your brain has no room for those details.  Hell, unless someone makes a comment about it, I couldn't even tell you what t-shirt I wore yesterday. 

I used to be deathly afraid of forgetting and losing memories.  I still don't like the idea of going senile or losing my mind to Alzheimer's disease, but I've come to terms with gradually losing bits and pieces of my past.  Maybe this is a sign of maturity.  I've basically realized that having those memories made fuzzy and dull is a good thing.  In some ways it makes them easier to learn from.  I can analyze my relationship with my ex-boyfriend, for instance, and see exactly what he did wrong and what I did wrong and what we probably should have done, and now I have the information for future relationships.  I no longer have to feel that same agony I had when we first broke up, because I no longer remember exactly how it felt to love him.  I know that he made me happy for awhile and I could tell you where I felt that stopped being true, but I don't feel it anymore.  The happy memories are also tainted with the not-so-happy memories, and then there are things about him I've forgotten altogether.

Forgetting isn't all good, of course, but I can see now how it is necessary for our emotional and psychological development and well being.  I don't think my brother and I would be talking now if I hadn't forgotten exactly how terrible it was living with him.  I know it was bad, but I don't relive every single detailed and terrifying moment.  But then I also can't remember what it was like to hold my grandfather's hand.  I don't remember bringing home Rocky, my first cat, from the neighbors' house.

I guess in the long run I'm okay with these losses.  The benefit of losing the bad sort of balances out the sadness of not remembering the good.  I just have to trust my brain to remember all of the good things I have yet to write down.

Day 68: Dan Walker as Holden Caulfield (guest blogger)

Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger.  ISBN: 9780316769488.

I really wish I had read this book back in high school. I mean, everyone in my school, except me of course, it seems they read this book for some English class or other. I feel like I'm the only person who ever didn't even have a chance to read Catcher in the Rye in school. But that was fifty years ago.

See, what I think is, if I had read it back then, I would have maybe got a big kick in the pants. I mean, I didn't really realize just how much direction I didn't have in my life, but it was like this book was goddamn talking to me, like it was fate that I should read it, and since I didn't read it in school, I lost on all those years in between when I could have been doing something with my life. It depresses me.

And it's kind of no good to go back and recount all your regrets, all the things you never did because you were a kid you didn't have any kind of appreciation for what was happening in your life or where you needed to have direction so that you could make something of yourself later, because it just depresses you. I mean, there's learning from your mistakes and then there's dwelling on them, and dwelling's just no good if you ever want to get anywhere. Like, this one time I knew this girl, a real babe, only I can't remember her name anymore, but I and she got to be real good friends and all, on account of we had some classes together in college. But I was still a virgin then, and really horny all the time, I mean really lonely and just dying to find some girl with big bosoms I could show the time to, and so on account of all that I screwed it up with old what's-her-name. This one time, we were getting out of class and I kind of followed her to her car almost, just talking, nothing big, but then I stopped her and made like I wanted to kiss her. I was all smooth about it, or tried to be, but she had a guy, and it's not like I didn't know that, I just didn't care, all I wanted was a lousy kiss because I was horny and all.

Well, she didn't, but then the next day it turns out either she ratted me out to her boyfriend or he was watching or something, and he comes over and makes like he's gonna smack me around. Tells me to keep away from his girl and all that. He didn't do anything, but I'm so yellow I just stood there and said "Yes" a lot. So old what's-her-name and I stopped being friends then, and that was the end of that. But see, it's no good to dwell on something like that, and drive yourself crazy with what you could have done different. Nothing is gonna change that, so you just say to yourself, don't do that again and you move on.

Anyway, that's what this book did, it really killed me. Like, I can't remember the last time I read a book and it got to me like that. I've always been good at English and all, but I don't read a whole lot of intellectual, literary crap. And now I want to read up on all kinds of literary analysis and have intelligent conversations and whatnot about this book, because it's just the kind of mood I'm in, I guess. Never wanted to do anything like that before. I wonder what kind of a phony that makes me.

Dan Walker (pseudonym) is a writer from Northeast Ohio, who would be teaching ESL if he wasn't unemployed. He received a BA in Creative Writing from Wright State University in 2004 and a Masters in Teaching English as a Second Language from Kent State University in 2009. He will make some lucky librarian a wonderful husband someday.

*The regular author of this blog rather hates Holden Caulfield and has subsequently beaten his presence out of her fiance after he wrote this post.

Day 67: a general update

Nothing new to report really.  Same old, same old.  Just a reminder, I'm still going to ALA Annual in Washington, DC this year.  I am looking to meet and greet people and pimp out my blog.  Good times will be had.  Also, from May 31st-June 8th I'll be in the Kent, Ohio area visiting my sweetheart, so posts might be kind of on the short and/or disjointed side.  Can't be helped.

I've decided that I need another reduction in the Amount of Stuff I Have.  So I'm gonna tear through the pile of books I picked up from my someday-to-be-mother-in-law, plus two Advanced Reader Copies (ARCs) that I picked up from the Wood County District Library.  For some reason they get a ton of ARCs and they hand them out like delicious literary candy to us kiddies.  I'll talk a little bit about the ARCs first since I actually chose those rather than having reads foisted (however willingly) upon me.

A Dog's Purpose by W. Bruce Cameron.
I like a good pet story.  I like the idea of having animal souls reincarnate.  I'm not sure how I feel about this story being written from the dog's point of view, but then again there's probably no other way to tell this particular story.  I'll tell you a little secret, I mostly picked this one up for the cover...  Oh, and it was free.  It's due out in July, so consider this a super special sneak peak.

A Girl in Translation by Jean Kwok.
I've actually already seen some pretty positive press about this one.  I originally entered this as a First Reads Giveaway, but withdrew when I saw they had it for grabs at the library.  Since this is one I would actually pick for myself I was more than happy to snag the copy.  It'll probably end back up at the library when I'm finished unless someone else wants it.  I think this might be an interesting look at immigrant life, however fictionalized it is.    

Half Broken Things by Morag Joss.
I have no idea why I accepted this one from my mother-in-law.  I sort of hate most crime novels, and this one involves a very pregnant woman.  I have the feeling this one will lead to some angry and/or ranty posts.  Maybe we'll get some amusing metaphors at least. 

Afternoon with Emily by Rose McMurray.
Oooh, it's a novelization about Emily Dickinson and her relationship with long-time friend Miranda Chase.  Should be a good read.  It's highly rated on Goodreads, so I'm holding out hope.


Deepwater by Matthew F. Jones.
More rage fodder.  This one involves an affair between Our Dashing Hero and His Boss's Wife.  It's very lowly rated, so at least I'll be doing some good by adding my humble opinion on whether or not people should read it.

The Night Bus by Janice Law.
Woman loses memory, gets on night bus, returns home, can't figure out why she left but has a feeling she's in deep doo-doo.  Man, I'm going to have to find some more smut to read after this.  Why isn't Blameless out until September?

Sweet and Vicious by David Schickler.
Star-crossed lovers with some crime thrown in, supposedly a modern day Bonnie and Clyde.  Looks like there might be some mobster going on with this.  Not sure it'll be my thing.  I'll read it anyway.

Rise and Shine by Anna Quindlen.
I mostly picked this up because I've never read any of Quindlen's stuff before.  This seems like a big problem to me since she's one of those authors that libraries have problems keeping stocked.  This is one of those sister-stories that I'm sure will drive me slightly nuts.  I might have to splice in some Gaiman here and there to keep myself sane through all this "required" reading.

The Collected What If? Eminent Historians Imagine What Might Have Been edited by Robert Cowley.
Any writers interested in writing recreative historical fiction should probably take a look at this.  I haven't done so much as cracked open the covers, but I'm kind of excited about it.  This will more or less replace Smoke and Mirrors as my filler book, so you'll be seeing a lot of it once I run through Mr. Gaiman's work.

Day 66: Juliet

Juliet by Anne Fortier.  ISBN: 9780345516107 (advanced reader copy, publishes August 17, 2010).

Other than the whole "Wherefore art thou, Romeo?" crap, the single biggest running theme of this book is the sibling rivalry crap.  Julie and Janice are twins, and they hate each other, but they have to come together to reverse the curse and get the treasure.  Except they don't get the treasure, the "good girl" gets the guy and supposedly grows a pair of cahones and um, a heart?

I'm not sure which would have been worse, the assumption that OMG twins have to get along or the fact that this is a lifelong relationship issue that gets resolved to perfection within a week.  Both of these are tropes that make me want to chuck things at anyone who writes about them (in almost any format) or talks about them.  I hate it when people find out I have a twin and then next thing out of their mouth is, "Oh, you two must be so close."  No, as a matter of fact, we are not.  We never have been, and we probably never will be.  And of course when I tell them that little piece of information they assume I'm just heartbroken about the whole thing.  It really doesn't affect my life all that much anymore, to be honest.

For the last 10 years or so, my lack of a relationship with my brother has been a good thing for me.  We are just now starting to talk again, and this is mostly for the sake of my nephew.  What I have for my brother is not what I would call love, or trust, or respect.  I'm not even sure I actually like my brother.  There is just too much history there to drop everything and forget it all happened.  I definitely feel that, being the wronged party in the relationship, my brother should bear the burden of making amends and renewing ties.  He's doing okay.  I doubt that I would feel the need to talk to him if he hadn't had children ... or at least ones that he recognized anyway.

I've often felt pressure from other people, particularly my mother, to get along with my brother.  Even after everything he's done to me.  But it wasn't really a problem that could just be fixed because someone wanted it to.  I don't know if I actually care about having the perfect relationship with my brother. I think I would settle for not wanting to run into another room because I'm afraid he's going to reach out and hit me for no reason.  I think we're almost at that point.  Somehow I doubt we'll ever be "two peas in a pod," even if we do have to band together to save the world.

Day 65: Juliet

Juliet by Anne Fortier.  ISBN: 9780345516107 (advanced reader copy, publishes August 17, 2010).

There's an interesting theme of virginity that runs through this book.  The modern day Juliet, who I'll refer to as Julie Jacobs for the rest of the blogging to avoid confusion, is a 25-year-old virgin.  On her prom night, her twin sister told her it was her last chance to "pop the cherry" before she became a prude, and nobody likes prudes.

Why is it sooooo important for women to lose their virginity at just the right time?  It seems if you have sex too soon you're a slut and if you lose it too late you're uptight and think you're "better than everyone else."  You would think we'd be over the whole medieval concept of virginity, but what do you think of someone who lost her virginity at 13?  How about a woman who's 30 and still a virgin?

While men may have some of the same issues, it's different.  Men who lose their virginity when they're boys are seen as studs or super suave.  They can also lose their virginity much later and with less consequence.  In fact, they don't even have to let anyone know they're virgins.  I imagine women don't actually have to tell their partners that they're virgins ... but it's awfully difficult to trust that someone will take appropriate measures regarding your body when they don't have the necessary information.

Oh, and women seem to have this overwhelming need to find "the right one" to have sex with for the first time.  If a man loses his virginity to a random stranger, no big deal.  When a woman does it, it's like she's given up something extremely special without a fight, like she's somehow made her first time tawdry and dirty.  Sex is kind of a dirty and tawdry thing to begin with when you get down to the biology of it.  It is a physical need and it really shouldn't matter how we choose to fill that need, virgins or not.  There shouldn't be any pressure for anyone to keep or lose his or her virginity.  I think it's probably a little wiser to wait until you're ready, but ready is a different time for everyone.

I chose to wait until I was 18.  I don't know that I ever thought that my ex was "the one," although I probably fooled myself into thinking he was.  I do know that I don't regret having sex with him.  He taught me a lot about what I wanted from a relationship, and also a lot about what I didn't want from a relationship.  Strangely there are other instances of intercourse I've had that I'm much more ashamed about.  Some of them occurred with strangers and others occurred with people I've known for years.  I'm happy that most of my sexual experiences have been positive and fulfilling, but the amount of time I've known the person doesn't seem to have anything to do with how satisfying they were.

If you want to wait: wait.  If you're ready now, okay.  If you never, ever want to have sex, that's okay too.  I may not be able to comprehend that decision, but really it's between you and your partner.

This was terribly hetero-normative, I don't mean to ignore issues of homosexual virginity, but I'm not personally familiar with the issues that entails.

Day 64: Changeless

Changeless by Gail Carriger.  ISBN: 9780316074148.

One of the vampires in this series is named Lord Akeldama.  He is flamboyant, wears loud but stylish clothing, and uses pet names with impunity.  I like pet names, they are cute and endearing when exchanged among loved ones.

Not so much when you have a patron or customer using them.  I understand I don't have a name tag, but can't you think of something a little better to call me than "sweetheart?"  Maybe you think you're being cute and endearing, but just because you're about the same age as my mother doesn't mean I somehow view you as a mother.  I am not helping you purely out of the goodness of my heart, I am helping you because I get financial gain and professional satisfaction from it.  Why do you think you're so special that you think I'm giving you some kind of special treatment?

I also don't understand why women do this to other women.  Shouldn't you know better than that?  Haven't you ever been treated that way and found it condescending?  I understand that in some places it's a cultural thing, that's okay...sort of.  I just don't get it. I work hard, just like you do; please, please, show some respect.  Not just to me, show some respect to the fast food worker and the janitor and the person who works at the call center.  Even if they are in India.