So, I went with that plan and downloaded audio books of the books chosen for book group.

That plan might have worked had I commuted a long distance to work. That plan might have worked if I walked or used exercise equipment. That plan might even have worked if I remembered to grab my mp3 player when I did household chores like laundry or cleaning the bathroom.

Unfortunately I did none of the above, but thought that since my work was mainly rote and didn’t really use much brain power, I could listen to my audio books while working. I really believed I could. I told people this was working. I did get through some books this way and thought I was so smart to have thought of it.

I realized last week that I’d been lying to myself and everyone else. I was not really understanding much of what was going on in most of the books I listened to this way and that was probably why I did not like most of the books chosen for book group this year — I didn’t really “get” most of them and didn’t finish several because of it.

What worried me was this: I thought that I’d lost my love of literature. That I didn’t like the audio books because I didn’t like to read anymore. It was a very depressing thought since reading is part of how I define myself: I am a reader and I love to read. Since I realized that it was the listening to the books while working that probably made me not like them I tried to really read again. I finished a book I started in the summer (Naked by David Sedaris) and started a book that Andrew gave me for Christmas (The Little Stranger by Sara Waters) and am happy to say I still love to read. Naked is very funny and The Little Stranger is a gripping Gothic ghost story.  Whew!

Don’t get me wrong, I really do believe that a person can listen to a book and get as much out of it* as someone who reads the same book, but I no longer think that I can listen to books and work on even mindless tasks at the same time.

So I’ve got 4 credits (and a $10 credit for some reason) left on my audible.com account and will download a few books I’d been meaning to read — but won’t listen to them while doing anything more taxing with my brain than chores or walking or driving — and cancel my account with audible.

I guess I can chalk it up as a year long experiment. Albeit one that failed.

*what a person gets out of listening versus reading might be a little different — but can be pretty much the same. Some people just don’t like to listen to books some cannot concentrate on them, but if one does like listening and can concentrate then the experience can be close to the same as reading a book.

The 13th Reality: Volume 1 -- The Journal of Curious Letters

Note: I belong to LibraryThing‘s Early Reviewer group and was sent this book January 2008. When I received the book I took one look at the cover and decided that I wasn’t interested in reading it after all. The cover of the book, as you can see in the image to the right, was of a boy with a surprised look on his face as he stares at something floating in front of him. The quality of the drawing made me uncomfortable in the same way as the characters in the movie version of The Polar Express did — they just looked creepy — and not in a good way. The face was too shiny and fake looking and was like a plastic doll that came to life.  I cannot really explain my reaction, except that I thought that if the cover looked that bad, the content was probably worse.

I knew that not reading and reviewing the book would affect (or is it effect? I never remember) my chances of receiving another early reviewer title, but at the time I guess I thought it didn’t matter. Perhaps I was over the thrill of getting books before they were published. Then, when I received notice recently that a new batch of early reviewer books were up for grabs I checked them out, just to see what was available. I was excited and surprised to see John Irving’s newest book, Last Night at Twisted River, and clicked the “Request” button, knowing I had very little chance of getting one of the 30 copies the publisher was offering. So, at the end of the month I was more than a little surprised (and delighted) when I received word that I had actually snagged a copy of Last Night at Twisted River.

A few days later I received another note from LibraryThing — they reminded me that I’d indicated that I’d received The 13th Reality: Volume 1 — The Journal of Curious Letters and had not yet reviewed it. So, reluctantly, I located the book and began reading it.

You know the saying about not judging the book by its cover? Well, this book proved that saying true.

[FULL DISCLOSURE NOTICE -- Dear FCC & Lawyers: I received this book for free from Random House via LibraryThing's Early Reviewer program.]

The unfortunately named 13-year-old Atticus “Tick” Higgenbottom is a self-described nerd who chooses to give in to the schoolyard bullies when they torment him, as they frequently do. He’s a straight A student, is on the chess team and loves science. Tick also has a birthmark on his neck that makes him so self-conscious that  he covers it, inside and outside, winter and summer, with a long knitted scarf.

One day in November Tick receives a letter postmarked from a small town in Alaska that informs Tick that he’s been chosen to be a part of  dangerous and possibly deadly events, but first he needs to solve a series of clues, that are also described as dangerous and possibly deadly. Tick, being curious and good is intrigued by the letter and chooses to not burn it because the letter also explains that if he succeeds in solving the clues he’ll save many lives.

Throughout the next half-year Tick receives many more clues that he attempts to solve with the help of some other chosen teenagers and a cadre of unlikely otherworldly characters.

This book was surprisingly hard to put down. I was never bored reading it and looked forward to reading it each time I picked it up. It kept my attention — even when sitting on bleachers in a noisy gym during a wrestling tournament. It even scared me a little, especially when Tick heard noises in his bedroom shortly after receiving the first letter:

“Late that night, after watching the movie Dad had brought home–a creepy sci-fi flick where the hero had to travel between dimensions to fight different versions of the same monster–Tick lay on his bed alone, reading the letter once again. Night had fallen hours earlier and the darkness seemed to creep though the frosted window, devouring the  faint light from his small bedside lamp. Everything lay in shadow, and Tick’s mind ran wild, imagining all the spooky things that could be hiding in the darkness.

…

A noise from the other side of his room cut him out of his thoughts. He leaned on his elbow to look, a quick shiver running down his spine. It had sounded like the clank of metal against wood, followed by a quick burst of whirring–almost like the hum of a computer fan, but sharper, stronger–and it had lasted only a second or two before stopping.”

I think that the storyline in this book is very good and rather unique. It takes the good vs. evil theme and makes it readable, even for a middle-aged grown-up like me. I imagine it would appeal to upper elementary school students, especially if they like science fiction or fantasy stories. The characters are moderately well developed, although everyone but Tick and perhaps his father, seem a little one-dimensional. Sophia, Tick’s friend from Italy is a rich smart-alack but we know little else about her. Paul, their friend from California is full of himself and seems to like sports, but what else? Rutger is portly and likes to eat. Mothball is tall and kind. I would have liked the supporting characters to be a little more fleshed out.

My other problem with this book was the author’s voice. Voice is usually a good thing in stories, however Mr. Dashner’s voice is too strong in this story. It comes through in all the characters. His sense of humor is slightly stilted — as if he’s working to hard to get a laugh out of a group of bored businessmen and has no idea how to do it, but thinks he does. The humor also seems dated. I cringed and had a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach several times in most chapters — thinking that the characters’ words could have been different and the meaning would have come across just as well, or better.

Maybe the voice works for school-aged readers — perhaps the humor is just right for 5th graders — but I suspect not. I think that Mr. Dashner has an incredible imagination and for the most part wrote a book that will keep many readers engrossed, however the delivery of the story needs a little refinement. I’m not sure I’ll read the next installment of The 13th Reality, although the first volume left me wanting more (which is a good thing with the first book in a series).Perhaps I will read it, though — perhaps the writing style has changed a little. Maybe I’ll read some of his newer books as well, because I think this guy has potential.

I am going to Barnes & Noble on Friday to see this author. From the voice in the book (and on his website), he seems like a likable guy. I only wish I could have given this book a better review, but maybe I needed to be male and in the 5th grade to really like it.

Raney is a Southern Baptist. Charles is an Episcopalian, When they marry they set up house in Listre, North Carolina. The story is told through Raney’s voice. It has been several years since I read this book, but remember laughing out loud every couple of pages.

One passage I recall laughing aloud at was when Raney was trying to explain why Southern Baptists didn’t use wine for communion. Something about 3 days not being long enough to ferment the grape juice into wine. Ok, not funny now because I didn’t get it right, but I sure giggled when I read it.

If you’ve never read Edgerton — you’re missing out. I just noticed he has several other books out, so I’ve got more reading to do! See ya!

So, I’ve been sitting on a book that I knew, deep down, I was not going to read in time for book group. I bought it for myself before Christmas and Dean gave me a copy for Christmas. I sold a copy to the woman who is hosting the book group. I was going to return it anyway. Who needs two copies of the same book?

Then I found out that Catherine was 157 on the waiting list at the library. 157? This must be a good book. I’m on page twenty-something. I’ve brought it to wrestling matches and it remained unread in my bag. I’ve picked it up at night and it lost to whatever was on TV.

So I called Catherine tonight and offered it to her. She stopped by and now I have none.

Kind of funny — I had two copies — suggested we read it for book group and now don’t have a copy and am not going to have read it.

In a way I am upset and wonder if I’ll run out and buy it tomorrow. In another way, I’m relieved. Just another thing I don’t have to do.

We did it again — we took our almost annual trip to Loudoun County to cut down our Christmas tree. We’ve been doing this since the kids were quite small — Clare might have been 6 when we started.

This is the last year we’ll go to Jacobson’s Tree Farm though — suburbia is moving in. Next year there will probably be McMansions where the trees used to be. Loudoun County is one of the fastest growing counties in the DC Metro area. People who want to live in the country, yet be close to DC are buying up the land and building homes there. (And according to Wikipedia, it is the wealthiest county in the country.)

But this post is not about suburban sprawl. It’s about our annual trip to cut down a Christmas tree.

We ate a delicious breakfast of Dutch Babies (weird name for a baked pancake sort of thing — very reminiscent of a Yorkshire pudding). Then piled in the Highlander for our trip to Virginia. The weather didn’t cooperate. It was chilly and rainy. We would have preferred snow, of course, but it didn’t happen.

Sure, Virginia is a short distance away via bridges and interstates, but we go the long way. The way that involves a ferry, country roads and wooded scenery. We cheated this time and drove up 270 instead of going on River Road where it actually does follow the river. We got off 270 in Gaithersburg and drove along Rt. 28 until we found White’s Ferry Road then took the ferry to Virginia, then drove to the tree farm.

When we first began getting our trees from Jacobson’s the farm was covered in a forest of pine and fir trees. It was hard to choose trees, because they were so plentiful. The area was so big that the owners brought wagons pulled by tractors to patrons when they’d chosen their trees. Now there might have been 100 trees left in three spots. Two were a bit of a walk, but one was pretty close to the parking lot. We headed there first, not because of its proximity, but because I prefer Canaan Firs for my Christmas tree. We found one right away, Dean unceremoniously cut it down (we forgot to thank it for giving its life so we could put presents under it). Dean and Andrew carried it to the shed where it was vibrated (to help it shed loose needles) and tied up in string. Then Andrew and Dean tied it to the top of the Highlander while Clare and I went into the shed to warm up.

Being a rainy day early in the season, there were few people at the tree farm. The owners said they’d be up and running at a different location in a couple of years. We gave them our email address so they could tell us when they were ready for business.

On the way to Leesburg for lunch we stopped ath the Old Lucketts Store to look through their 3 floors of antiques. On the top floor I met a man who told me that the store was alegedly haunted. It didn’t surprise me — I felt a chill when entering one of the rooms on the third floor, but that might have been because it was full of previously owned clothes worn by creepy mannequins. Clare and Dean tried on coats, but neither worked out.

We then drove to Leesburg and parked in front of the Leesburg Restaurant — another part of the tradition. Leesburg Restaurant is a dining establishment that’s been around since 1865, according to their sign. The inside of the restaurant is a throwback to a more innocent time — and very art deco-y

After eating a cholesterol filled meal we walked to another antique store up the road where we browsed the basement for bargains. Clare found a few things, but the rest of us just looked.

Then we drove back home, taking the ferry again — but taking lesser roads than we took to get to Virginia.

Dean set the tree up and we got out our decorations. As mentioned in another post, the lights didn’t work, so the tree stood naked for a day. I bought lights the next day and Clare put them on the tree. That’s as far as we’ve gotten. Maybe we’ll decorate it tonight.

The Graveyard Book begins with a gruesome murder by a man only identified as “the man Jack”. The only survivor is a toddler who escapes to a nearby cemetery and, after some discussion, is taken in by the occupants. The rest of the story contains elements of romance, mystery, horror and adventure.

If you’d like to hear the first chapter (read by Gaiman himself), click the play button on the widget below.

The alert was about an author, Phyllis Zimbler Miller, who grew up in Elgin. I’d not heard of the author, but found her on a site I’d been to before, The Author’s Den.  I sent her a message, telling her I was pleased to see that Elgin produced talented people and that I’d also grown up there. I also found her on twitter and found her weblogs. In fact, this woman is all over the Internet.

I added her to my twitter feed and we exchanged a couple of twits and messages on The Author’s Den. She offered to send me her book to read and review here. I accepted, so here we are.

I have to admit, when I looked at the cover of the book and read the blurb on the back, I was a little worried that I was not going to like it. After all, I was a knee-jerk anti-war teenager (and am a more thoughtful anti-war middle-aged woman). Why on earth would the story of four vastly different women who happened to be married to budding army Lieutenants in the 1970′s interest me in the slightest?

I was mistaken. Mrs. Lieutenant was an interesting read. It kept my interest and I came away from it more enlightened about life of military folk during the Viet Nam war. The book has romance, drama, drama, sex, and conflict. I cared about the characters and hated a couple of them. What more could I ask for?

The premise of the book is that four young women from different US cultures are thrown together for a couple of months on a military base while their husbands complete some needed training. Although backgrounds and pasts differ, their futures seem to all hold at least one near-definite: the possibility of their husband’s going to, and possibly dying, in Viet Nam.

Sharon Gold, the main character, is a Jewish anti-war protester from Chicago, Illinois. Donna is a Puerto Rican married to an “Anglo”. Kim is a white woman from South Carolina who doesn’t like Jews, Puerto Ricans or Blacks. Wendy is a sheltered Black woman from South Carolina.

While I believed the tension between Kim and the other women, I had a hard time understanding the tension that Sharon felt. Maybe I’m too young to remember tension between Jews and non-Jews, or perhaps I’ve lived in a community with a lot of Jewish culture for so long. Although, I do admit to not knowing anyone Jewish in my hometown until I got to high school, but it never seemed to be an issue — in fact I might have known them, just didn’t know they were Jewish.

I think this book might even appeal more to women that lived that life — even if they lived it during other wars, or during times of peace (have we actually had those?)

While Ms Zimbler Miller’s writing style occasionally felt awkward (possibly because she was writing in language of the 1970s), there were some spots of brilliant writing:

“Don’t lie to me. I know you were with a man.”

Jim’s face flushes with the ugliest shade of purple she’s ever seen. His eyes will pop out of his face any minute, landing at her feet and rolling away, becoming marbles for Squeaky to chase.

She sinks to the floor as her knees fold under her. “I swear Jim, I swear on my sister’s life, that I was home all day alone. That I was not with another man today, or ever before, or ever in the future.” The tears plop onto her hands.

He stides down the hall. In a moment he’s back.

He has the gun!

“I’ll kill you if you’re ever with another man. I promise you, Kim, I’ll kill you.”

So, as I told Ms Zimbler Miller in my first message — it’s great to see that Elgin, Illinois produced people with her talent. She spent time at the very same library I did as a young child — perhaps we read the same books.

I’m sending this book to my Aunt Ginny, who went to high school with Ms Zimbler Miller. I think she’ll even get more out of it than I did.

One trait most of the women in these novels possesses is a sharp tongue and the habit of provoking bantering conversation with all men, but mostly the men they were interested in romantically. Being relatively sheltered and shy, I didn’t have much opportunity to converse with males other than my relatives, so I didn’t really know how to talk to them, especially guys I was interested in. So I took a cue from the romance novels I read and, in my imaginary conversations with guys, carried on sharp-witted banter with them in my head. Oh, I was witty. My fictitious retorts to imagined flirtations were brilliant.

My real conversations with guys wasn’t so successful. Either I’d blush and look down and stammer something unintelligible until they walked away, laughing; or I tried to be witty and the guys would look at me like I was insane. They never bantered back.

I didn’t realize that “normal” people didn’t talk like that. That it was just fiction. In fact, it wasn’t until the past ten years or so that I finally really understood that I was not going to find my perfect verbal sparring partner and that the banter I’d expected to experience just wasn’t going to be a reality in my life and, in fact, was a pretty annoying thing to listen to.

Clare and I started watching Becoming Jane last week. We got about a quarter of the way through it and couldn’t’ deal with the banter. Perhaps Jane Austen did talk like that. Perhaps men and women of the late 1700′s and early 1800′s bantered. Perhaps to be the ones bantering was exhilarating. But to listen to consistent banter? It’s downright irritating.

If you like audio books, check out the audio book of Anansi Boys read by Lenny Henry. It’s one of the best I’ve heard.