Book Return

Tea: Vanilla Jasmine

Music: REM, "Driver 8"

Time: Night.

I think I have a poltergeist. It loves books. Either that, or it decided I was reading too many at one time and should focus my efforts.

See, I have a copy of Christopher Moore's A Dirty Job. I've been reading it, Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett's Good Omens and Diane Ackerman's A Natural History of the Senses. Yes, concurrently. If I don't have at least two books going at once, I feel something's wrong.

The poltergeist apparently doesn't mind if I have one fiction and one nonfiction piece on my plate at once, because it left me the Ackerman. I'm guessing it decided two whacked-out novels with Death as a character was just too much.

I finished the Pratchett/Gaiman last night. So, of course, the Moore reappeared today. I wonder what would happen if I took up Coyote Blue (also by Moore) while continuing to read A Dirty Job?

Then again ... maybe I don't want to know.

Plotjuggling

Tea: Vanilla Lapsang

Music: Switchfoot, "Gone"

Time: Night.

I go through periods, periodically, where I find myself immersed in more than one book at once.

Come tomorrow, I may be up to three. By the end of the week, it could be four.

The other day, I misplaced my copy of Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. (It went missing at a critical time in the plot, too. Frustrating.) So I picked up John Knowles' A Separate Peace, which two of the kids have already read and which I started a few weeks back but had let lapse.

Finished Knowles. Still no sign of Pratchett/Gaiman. So I started in on Christopher Moore's A Dirty Job (yep, one of the Barnes and Noble Christmas books). It's utterly engrossing (see also hilarious, touching, menacing and brilliantly written) -- so, of course, once Moore had his latest hook in me, Good Omens turned up.

At about the same time, I found another mislaid book: Darryl Tippens' Pilgrim Heart: The Way of Jesus in Everyday Life, which was loaned to me by a friend. I need to read and return it. So it could wind up going on tomorrow's church trip with me.

I also want to return to a long-distance shared reading of Diane Ackerman's A Natural History of the Senses, which likely will resume on New Year's Day. There will be, of course, some rereading required to catch up.

I tell people "Words are my life." This verges on the ridiculous ... but it's a pretty good sort of ridiculous.

Same Store, Different Tastes.

Tea: Matcha.

Music: Sweet, "Ballroom Blitz"

Time: Night.

Family outing to Barnes and Noble today, to spend the Christmas gift cards.

I wound up with Christopher Moore's "A Dirty Job" (Yes, I've turned into a Moore junkie.) and C.S. Lewis' "Till We Have Faces." (I still have more card to redeem. They weren't that expensive.

The 17-year-old got three classics, and won't let me tell you what they are.

("There's this thing called privacy," she called over her shoulder as she headed to bed.)

The 16-year-old picked up "The Spiritual Brain: A Neuroscientist's Case for the Existence of the Soul," by Mario Beauregard and Denyse O'Leary.

The 14-year-old got music. (And no, I didn't browbeat her to get words. The card was hers, to do with as she pleased.)

It's more than interesting, seeing them develop their own tastes as they grow. There are influences, of course -- from teachers, from peers, from travel companions and (occasionally) from their parents. But none of them is a carbon copy of anyone -- and that's a good thing.

The Moore I read, the more I like.

Tea: White Grapefruit

Music: Johnny Cash, "Hurt"

Time: Night.

A few weeks ago, someone asked me to name the best book I'd read this year. My answer: George MacDonald's Phantastes (a book I should have discovered long ago, by an author I should have discovered long ago.)

Had someone asked me to name the author whose work has given me the most pleasure this year, though, I'd have blurted out Christopher Moore's name in a heartbeat.

I hadn't heard of him until this year, either -- but that was before I was given several of his books (Bloodsucking Fiends, Lamb and The Lust Lizard of Melancholy Cove, followed later by Fluke) by someone far more generous than I deserve. Now, Moore is among my favorite writers -- and people are still giving me his work.

With members of the extended family in for a visit, we had early Christmas at the house last night. And in one of my parcels, I found a copy of Coyote Blue.

I suppose tonight's song should have been "Give Me Just a Little Moore Time" or "More, More, Moore" ...

Nahhhh. Can't go wrong with Johnny Cash, either.

Don't Give Me No Blue-Eyed Wimpy Jesus

Tea: Chinese Melon Seed

Music: King Crimson, "Elephant Talk"

Time: Late afternoon.

One thing about being ill is that it's let me catch up on my reading. (Small blessings must be taken where found.)

I finished Christopher Moore's "Lamb" this week. This may get me in trouble in Sunday School, but I liked a good deal of the book.

As a history? Not so much, but it doesn't aim to be a history. It's a story -- funny in some parts, touching in others and surprisingly more reverent than ir. Joshua (that's Jesus to you and me) is presented as more human than He is in the Gospels -- but no less divine, to my eyes.

(And I'm not saying that humanizing Jesus is a bad thing. Too often, He's portrayed as overly soft and serene, not to mention Caucasian-- what I call "Blue-eyed Wimpy Jesus." No, thanks.)

Don't read "Lamb" if you're easily swayed from beliefs. It's not theological truth. And don't read it if the idea of Jesus doing anything but looking tranquil (even while kicking moneychanger butt and/or being crucified) makes you break out in hives.

But if you can take what you know and believe, and sift through a work of fiction to find the truths in it ... well, then, happy reading.