The 5 Ws

As I didn’t have a post for today, I thought I would use an old one from way back when! And if you would like to do your own version of this, steal away.

WHO — Name an author you would love to have a ‘One to One’ with.

It would have to be Louise Penny. I was lucky enough to see her at a book signing a few years back, here locally. And got my obligatory 3 seconds with her as she wrote me a personal message in the book I was buying: GLASS HOUSES. But I would love to sit down with her and do a full-on interview at length, over coffee and cakes at the Bistro.

WHAT — What genre do you most gravitate to?

It use to be always science fiction but then, over the last couple of years, I turned to a life of crime … crime fiction reading, that is. I love me a good mystery, police procedural, or a good spy thriller these days. The Cold War is definitely not over, yet!

WHERE — Where do you prefer to read?

Anywhere. But as a preference, I guess I would have to go with the couch in the lounge, for comfort’s sake. You know, with the blanket and a cup of Earl Grey tea, hot.

WHEN — What time of day do you prefer to read?

As above, my answer would have to be, anytime. Anytime I can squeeze in a few minutes, especially when reading a really good book. I don’t want to be away from it for any length of time. And yes, I read on the porcelain throne (don’t you?)

WHY — Why is your favourite book your favourite book?

Eh, maybe as a child or teenager, I had one book I would call my fav. But now, I would say any book with well-conceived characters, well-written snappy dialogue, and a clever plot will be my fav book while reading it. I want to be amazed, wowed and wooed! I know, I don’t ask a lot do I?

But, to be specific, my recent read: A DROP OF CORRUPTION by Robert Jackson Bennett was this years winner, eh, so far.

BONUS — How do you go about selecting what you will read next?

Gee, really? Okay … By tarot cards, at midnight, under a Gibbous moon, having sacrificed my lunch on an altar made of polished pebbles from a beach off the coast of Goa, while dress as a Goth, with black-eye make-up, smelling of hibiscus flower with water collected at dawn’s first light, from an island in the Caribbean in a conch seashell handed down from mother to daughter … what, no, seriously … wait … where are you going, there’s more … come back!

6 Degrees of Separation

Following on from a recent post I read in which readers create a chain of six books leading from a monthly title, this month being The Tipping Point (2002) by Malcolm Gladwell — I thought I would join in, but, of course, having never read this month’s title and starting point, nor knowing the author, I hit my first hurdle.

Then I gave it a moment’s thought and wondered about the title, ‘tipping point,’ which brought me of all places to physics. Yes, that kind of tipping point—the point where there is no turning back, where a thing will go from being balanced, to being unbalanced. Which in turn reminded me of a book I read, The Missing Informant by Anders de la Motte. Where David Sarac the main character and, in fact, a number of characters in this fast-paced thriller face their own ‘tipping points,’ and, as the various story threads weave and intertwine, we’re pulled toward the story’s gripping and climactic ending.

Informants and tipping points brought me then to Secrets of State by Matthew Palmer, another thrilling read in which tensions between Pakistan and India are at a critical point. And where one piece of planted intel could lead to all out nuclear war. A thoroughly plausible scenario with the focus on two countries more likely to bring us to the brink of destruction than the Middle East, fractured and fighting amongst themselves.

Thinking about secrets and nuclear tensions reminded me of another recent read, Sarah Paretsky’s Fallout in which V.I. Warshawski finds herself leaving behind her beloved Chicago on route to Kansas in the hunt of a missing film student. But as readers of Paretsky know by now, northing is ever straight forward for Vic, who finds herself mixed up in a mystery from the past and a Cold War-era missile silo. Great fun.

Book five, again written by Parestky, and tied in with nuclear war and buried secrets, is Critical Mass (yes, another physics term—critical mass, like tipping point, being a point of no return). Critical Mass is one of my all-time favourite books and not because of Paretsky’s writing or her long time character V.I. but because of the subject matter she chose to focus on: Physics. Moving seamlessly between past and present, Paretsky ties in several threads that connect Warshawski’s closest friend, Viennese-born Lotty Herschel, to events that took place in Vienna and Germany in WWII. Lies, secrets and silence.

Book six in the chain was a little less obvious, it’s The Nature of the Beast by Louise Penny. Which, in it self, is book eleven in the series focused on the fictional village of Three Pines. And features the now retired head of homicide for the Sûreté du Québec, Armand Gamache. What opens to be a straight forward murder-mystery when 9 year-old Laurent Lapage goes missing turns out to be anything but. And the further Gamache delves, the further down the rabbit hole we all go in the search for answers. The connection here, weapons of mass destruction. While not nuclear, still, nonetheless, are at the centre of this cleverly written mystery. And who writes it better than Louise Penny, no one!

Tipping points and critical mass were key in every one of these well-plotted and thrilling reads that share six-degrees of separation to each other. Whatever your tipping point, I hope you find time to check out one or two of these novels and authors, and give them a try.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Motivation

I’m struggling at the moment. Struggling with life, the weather and not being able to get out and do my daily walks or even use taking photos as an excuse to get outside. And when I’m not getting out for my walk, I get grumpy. I get very grumpy. I don’t do well closed in for days at a time or, in this case, because the damn weather is so damn cold, weeks at a time.

It’s really getting to me and we’re only coming up to the end of January. I’ve got the whole month of February to get through. And even with scheduled appointments I have to go to: the doctor, the nurse for blood tests, the dentist for my check up, and any runs out for groceries etc., it’s not the same. Not the same as wandering here and there, in my neighbourhood, taking photos of things that interest me. Or even going further afield in the city, and wandering around on of the many parks.

I want to be out. And I want to be out like, now!

Am I going stir crazy? You bet I am. But going out, in this weather, entails wearing at least 4 layers of clothing. Which, let me tell you, is not conducive to going for a walk feeling like the Stay Puff Man from Ghostbusters.

Throw in the fact any exposed skin at MINUS 27+ will get frostbite pretty quickly and that, dear reader, is no fun.

So what’s a girl to do?

Stare out the window a while longer and pray to Mother Nature to pull her finger out of her, well, you know where, and give us a break. Pretty please with cream on top.

Thanks,
Love Alex

OED

LOL & OMG Toll the death-knell of the English Language.

English is one of those languages that begs, borrows and downright steals from other languages to the point of stalking them down dark alleys. Where, before hitting them over the head with a dangling participle, rifles through a language’s pockets in search of any word it thinks it can get away with. It doesn’t care whether it’s bright, shiny, and new, or if it is dog-eared and long since forgotten. The only criteria is, can I use it?

You have to remember, languages live by adapting or die by stagnation. English (and yes, we’ll include American, Canadian, and Australian English here too) knows this and isn’t above grand theft and petty larceny in the verbiage world at large.

So, to any and all of you out there bemoaning the death-knell of the English language when reading announcements that the OED (Oxford English Dictionary) is once again adding new and controversial words to its pages. Ask yourselves, do we speak the same language of Shakespeare, or even the Victorians? Could you imagine a dapper-dressed Victorian saying, “I better Google that, or check that fact on Bing.” Eh, of course not. Nor do we, in our time, go around asking, “doth thine eyes, of palest emerald, beseech the heavens above …” 

Hell, no!

We speak and write a vibrant, living, growing, transforming language that is constantly in flux and adapting to the changing needs of those using it. 

And to that, I say, hallelujah!