Books
andy weir • artemis
Another perfect trip to a well-stocked library yields the latest by Andy Weir. And in spoken work, great during bamboo runs for our hometown hero, Peter’s Panda Rescue. Motoring along smooth Maryland asphalt, Rosario Dawson’s diction convincing me she is, indeed, the title character, The Martian‘s famous author has scribed yet another winner with Artemis.
The title character is ~ SPOILER ALERT ~ a 26-year-old unmarried Saudi female. She emigrated to the moon when she was six, so lunar living is all she knows. Smart as heck, Jazz Bashara makes MacGyver seem like an eleven-year old.
This novel has it all. Mr. Weir’s clear understanding of lunar conditions, a familiarity with common technology and issues we’ll live with on the moon, along with the human condition in one-sixth gravity. He explains the engineering in a way which makes it seem like we already have a city on the moon. (Wait, what is really on the other side?) This book could easily have been written in 2218 as a story “set back in those days of chemical propulsion”.
As usual, Andy Weir got to it first.
The Martian ◊ andy weir
‘Tis the season for thankfulness. Everything speeds up, though. We attend this, deliver than, check off our list, make the parties. But the true spirit of the “holidays”? Maybe it is to reflect . . .
Last week a book on CD came into my possession. I listen to these in my truck. After the first few paragraphs, I anticipated travel time in the GMC like a dog hearing his leash. The proverbial “old men” maneuvering their ancient Oldsmobiles at a trot pass me along the road as I carefully catch every traffic light. The “travel” in “travel time” was never so enjoyable.
Yes, the writer is amazing. Andy Weir hears this all the time so I need not repeat it. I wonder if he imagined himself Mark Watney ~ I’d bet Andy had to, but that will be another article. Yeah, the upcoming interview, after his people and my people get our schedules in sync. 🙂
At first I did not realize – sorry Matt – this was the book made into a movie. R. C. Bray NAILS narration so convincingly. He becomes each of the characters and owns it so totally, you’d think he wrote it. Our researchers memo’d me R.C.’s closest exposure to aeronautics is paper airplanes, so ghost writing rumors, begone!
Thinking I finally had something new to share with my nephew, I planned to introduce this fine novel to his young inquisitive mind. Yes, the kid is brilliant, but I figure the book is mature enough that he’d have to read it by flashlight under the covers. “Oh yeah, I read that a couple years ago. Great book. And we saw the movie too”. Soccer ball deflated! Where did this kid find the time to turn out so humble and pleasant?
Taking my nephew’s queue, I’ve secured the DVD. I’ll repeat his experience. I am not jealous of his youth or covet his upcoming opportunities, but do regret not noticing how quickly he has grown into a young man. More reflection is in order. After the movie. Pass the popcorn, please.
Great movie! Thanks Matt for your hard work!
A Slant of Light • jeffrey lent
Aisle L. Always a joy. Two years have passed. People browsed, flirted, exchanged glances. Plans made, advances ignored. There is always love in Aisle L of our local library. Requited, engaged, spurned, savored.
Since my last visit Jeffery Lent has published another book. Mr Lent is a time traveler. He closes his eyes, fiddles with levers and dials in his imagination, arrives at his destination and time, then opens his senses to new surroundings. And writes. Beautifully. We see, smell, and hear small town America a century ago. Before automobiles, electricity, or telephone.
The Lenten tornado of imagination plucks me from my routine and drops me within his world. Late 1860s in rural New York. Small town courthouse. Country lanes. Hard farm work. Simple murder, anything but simple. You are not reading. You’re an observer, tagging along, wondering what will happen over yonder hill?
The Whiskey Rebels • david liss
Air travel introduces one to the phenomena of speed bonding. Like your dental hygienist is an intimate pal – two hours a year – , your aisle mate within a slender aluminum tube spearing stratospheric air can be your soul mate, confidante, therapist. Ask anything you want; get an honest reply. You’ll never see each other again; bearing one’s soul to a stranger can be easier.
Flying east from a fortnight of good deeds, I eagerly anticipate rich loam of Pennsylvania soil. But the Commonwealth’s airspace was a good start. The famous Three Rivers, home of Pittsburgh, came first. Easy to spot; unmistakable to the eye.
Usual airplane banter followed. Pittsburg memories between a tradesman, risk analyst, and foreclosure specialist. Geography and the settling of Colonial America followed. Crank back time to 1790, and we’d see a muddy hamlet of about 300 souls, many of them skilled craftsmen. It was easier to produce what they needed rather than order from the east, and wait for the product to arrive over the Allegheny Mountains,.
The residents had a surplus of grain for trade, but shipping alcohol was easier. The fledgling Federal government had decided to levy its first tax against whiskey, but the (frontier) farmers argued they didn’t have cash to pay taxes on bartered goods, and marched in protest. ∆
Where did I pick up all these tidbits, asked my new friends? Research spurred by reading historical fiction of David Liss. In The Whiskey Rebels, Liss brings together national politics with backwoods realities. People living in the time before TV, cell phones, and flush toilets, dealing with the same issues we experience today.
David Liss engages reader imagination at the right pace. His plot as well as locale, characters, interactions, all give one a sense of being in the book, alongside the story. At a time when we more often live within electronic content by others (like this article, but finish reading before heading to the library), I’d certainly rather be in a book than a computer!
Patrick Graham • Brickbat Books
PAT GRAHAM loves books. He has collected books from childhood. By the time he was in Art School, his 10,000+ volume collection had becoming cumbersome. The logical solution? Open a shop.
First, with a partner, came Big Jar Books on North 2nd Street, Philadelphia. Big Jar eventually was sold; Pat then opened Brickbat Books on South 4th, a solo-owned boutique collection.
And the story on the Benches of Brickbat? By invitation of Pat, of course.
We speak of a collection of wooden benches, platforms, and tables, all carved from lengths of 12″ x 12″ solid oak and poplar. The story, not independently verified, is that a local plumber found a pile of giant landscape ties discarded by a century-old insurance firm in West Philadelphia. Inspired hours with chainsaw, belt sander, and angle-grinder transformed some of the wood into the pictured objets d’art.
SPAM (canned meat product)
Gentlemen-rankers out on a spree, Damned from here to Eternity, God ha’ mercy on such as we, Baa! Yah! Bah! – Rudyard Kipling
There Is A Conspicuous Lack Of Gelatinous Goo Encasing My Spam
The can of Spam sat awaiting release into the world of gastronomic excellence. Waiting . . . and waiting . . . awaiting the pan . . . Two years passed before the urge to buy and the urge to fry. But when finally opened, it was, as expected, factory fresh. Ready to eat cold or hot. I like mine grilled, served between white bread.
What was different? The goo that used to slide out of the can with the Spam was absent. Maybe it is a money thing? Hormel realized that goo costs money? Spam will fry up perfectly fine without the extra fat? Unknown, Houston. Do not care enough to call the manufacturer? Maybe Hormel will comment on this blog entry . . . And our interest is ???
Reading the novel From Here To Eternity, I became impressed by Sergeant Maylon Stark’s order that all men be given a hot meal upon request at any hour. This meal would be fried Spam and toasted cheese on bread with hot coffee. A meal I’ve recreated a few times; it certainly does “hit the spot”.
Tell you what. Get the book. Buy a can of Spam (low salt, maybe?). Read. Eat. Experience what James Jones was feeling when, after WW II, he penned one of his most famous works.
The Coffee Trader • david liss
ACID-FREE PAPER IS the good stuff. The paper stays brighter. At first, I thought my eyes were exaggerating problems associated with old, musty paperback books. After reading the manufacturer’s warning, I’ve begun to treat my eyes to better-quality printed goods.
A very nice spring day last week found me on an evening walk through a small grove of cedars, up to the front door of my favorite municipal library. A list was consulted and a selection made. Approaching checkout, an obligatory scan was made of $2 choices on the surplus books cart
A library-quality David Liss novel produced jaw-dropping surprise. Hardback, nice paper, the perfect gift to a buddy. What’s so special about David Liss? Historical fiction and thrillers wonderfully combined.
I was lent The Whiskey Rebels on CD a couple of years ago, a thriller of historical fiction. After several attempts to get past the first disc, I became hooked with a complex plot closely woven among Alexander Hamilton’s attempts to fund the fledgling Bank Of The United States, a muddy frontier hamlet called Pittsburgh, a discarded spy of General Washington, and the routine of colonial life. I’ve since enjoyed several more of David’s novels.
The Coffee Trader I’ve read. This novel takes us to Europe, 1659, and the life of a Portuguese Jew trading in a new product, coffee. The drink called The Devil’s Piss, the subversives who consume, and the schemers and rogues who make up the trading mecca of Amsterdam are all rolled up in this excellent thriller. This copy I’ve just bought will make an excellent gift to a friend who loves history, Judaica, and reading, And coffee.
Stolen Prey • john sandford
LET THE TRUTH be told. I didn’t read the book. But I was deeply entertained with the fine narration by Richard Ferrone. Richie’s voice came through my truck speakers, via a library loan of the book on MP3. I highly recommend an audio book over news stations and most music.
Face it, you don’t need to hear the news. You don’t want to hear the news. It is so often mindless content, inflicted by media conglomerates in greedy desire to suffer upon you countless product advertisements for which you have no interest.
The story (yes, we are now back to literary discussions) is a neat tale of a loafer computer dude working at a bank, who discovers a narco criminale’s bank account. Humm. Easy pickings! Back door, multiple wire transfers, buy lots of gold. Scram! Easy! Done! Not!
Then comes the DEA, the Mexican Federales, the Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Investigation, 22 million in gold, the narcos, and of course, Lucas Davenport. John Sandford writes an exceptionally successful and hugely popular series (judging by the number of his books at the library!) featuring Lucas Davenport, an agent for the Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Investigation. Lucas has BUCK$, wears Italian loafers, and drives a Porsche. Clearly, your typical law enforcement officer.
What I liked about the story was that it was simple enough to be believable, but had enough twists to keep me guessing. The story line was never lost or disjointed, which is great when listening a few minutes at a time. The bad guys got their just deserts (some of them) and the deserving got theirs. Most importantly, the humor is supreme. So are both storytellers.
Brickbat Book’s Benches
“A room without books is like a body without a soul.” – Cicero
PAT GRAHAM loves books. He collected them from childhood. By the time he was in Art School, his 10,000+ volume collection had becoming cumbersome. The logical solution? Open a shop.
First, with a partner, came Big Jar Books on North 2nd Street, Old City, Philadelphia. Big Jar eventually sold; Pat then opened Brickbat Books on South 4th as a solo-owned boutique collection for the more esoteric among the literaria.
Unto this sparse establishment was lent a collection of wooden benches, platforms, and tables, all carved from lengths of 12″ x 12″ solid oak and poplar. The story, not independently verified, is that a local plumber found a pile of giant landscape ties discarded by a century-old insurance firm in West Philadelphia. Inspired hours with chainsaw, belt sander, and angle-grinder transformed some of the wood into the pictured objets d’art.
The collection has become famous although the identity of the artist remains shrouded in mystery.
A Peculiar Grace • a novel by jeffrey lent
What to give a blacksmith?
WHAT a fantastic book! The detail Mr. Lent incorporates into his main characters’ trade, blacksmithing, is sure to appeal to any tradesman. A solitary man, living alone, living with his demons, rediscovering love. Again, a complex effort by Mr. Lent, which will enrich your life. I invite you to visit any library in America, locate this book of fiction, and try the first three paragraphs in a quiet nook. Time permitting, you’ll sit for the first chapter of 50 pages and leave with the book under your arm.
Jeffrey Lent was born in Vermont and grew up there and in western New York State, on dairy farms powered mainly by 
draft horses. He lived for many years in North Carolina, an enriching and formative experience. Lent currently resides with his wife and two daughters in central Vermont. – Grove Atlantic
LOST NATION • a novel by jeffrey lent
EIGHTEEN Hundred & Thirty Eight was the date. The location, somewhere between New Hampshire and Canada. A very sparsely occupied area with the roughest of living. The inhabitants prefered to be left alone. Both countries thought it their territory.
A man pushes his wagon deep into the wilderness, looking for a place to set up trade. Far from the law, far from questions about his past. The wagon’s load? Two barrels of Jamaica rum, powder, lead, fabric, small housewares, a woman.
Mr. Lent captures the dirt, grease, and hardship as a first hand observer. The depth of his observations will transport the reader back to a time before electricity, automobiles, telephones. You will not notice they are missing. You will live in this world not so long ago when survival depended on your work and your neighbor.
Jeffrey Lent was born in Vermont and grew up there and in western New York State, on dairy farms powered mainly by draft horses. He lived for many years in North Carolina, an enriching and formative experience. Lent currently resides with his wife and two daughters in central Vermont. – Grove Atlantic
Smoked Bluefish Paté
Delish!
PHILIP R Craig, I’ve never met. Yet I feel a kindred, a bond, with one of Craig’s best buddies. Craig was an American writer who, among other accomplishments, produced 20 mystery novels set on Martha’s Vineyard. The star of the series was J.W. Jackson, retired cop-turned-fisherman, who lived a simple life but got caught up in some complicated situations. I’ve lived vicariously through Phil’s writings, for which I will be forever grateful.
J.W. loved to fish. What he didn’t sell or give to the needy, he ate or smoked to eat later. J.W.
made, and consumed daily, his own smoked bluefish paté, on sandwiches and among cocktail nibbles up on the balcony.
J.W.’s recipe was reproduced on the flap of one of the books, and, I’m told, is listed within the collection of J.W. Jackson’s recipes in the book Delish, by Shirley Prada Craig.
Smoked Bluefish Paté
5-6 ounces shredded smoked bluefish *
8 ounces whipped cream cheese **
½ tablespoon finely diced red onion (more, please)
1 teaspoon prepared horseradish
1 teaspoon lemon juice
Dash of Worcestershire sauce if desired
* Trout works fine. Bet any good smoked fish would do.
** Package of cream cheese, softened, in the mixer with a little milk or sour cream.
American Toolbox 