We've got issues.
So just yesterday I posted a little thing that mentioned The Tales of Beedle the Bard, the handmade book by Harry Potter creator J.K. Rowling that was sold at auction for nearly $4 million. (For those not keeping up, Tales is referenced in — is in fact quite important to — Harry Potter and the Dealthy Hallows.) All yesterday’s news said was that an agent purchased it. Turns out the real buyer was Amazon. What does this mean? Continue reading
It amuses me that on the same day we all learned that J. K. Continue reading
The truth is, I first hated Chuck Klosterman. The reason for this is simple: The first piece of his that I read was the Lloyd Dobbler essay that starts Sex, Drugs, and Coca Puffs. The premise is that every woman of a certain age wants Lloyd Dobbler, the sensitive, kickboxing, eminently quotable character played by John Cusack in Say Anything. Continue reading
Maybe it’s a little American-centric of me, but I wish, oh, I wish that when they announce the Booker Prize longlist, they’d, say, tell me which books are published in the U.S., so I don’t have to go hunting through the interwebs to try to find them. How many of these have YOU heard of? And no, having heard of the McEwan doesn’t count. You ought to have heard of that one. Continue reading
I’ve finished. It was worth it and then some. I can’t wait to get through this busy week and start all over again. Continue reading
I thought it was such a good idea to blog reading Deathly Hallows. I thought it’d be all this, that and the other thing every hundred pages or so. I CAN’T TEAR MYSELF AWAY. Not to do other work that needs doing. Not for the complicated project. Not to clean the house for the friend that’s coming tomorrow. I did make dinner, and then I ate too much of it (downright decadent homemade mac & cheese, if you were curious). Even now, the book is calling. Things are happening. Darkness and strife. Excitement and downtime. Continue reading
I keep getting up to refer to the end of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. If I don’t stop this, I’ll never get anywhere. Though I did have to get up the first time simply because Rowling is not holding back, here; this is a dense, dark, straight-to-it sort of book, no fussing around or dawdling at the beginning. Like I said, no spoilers here, but I did get a little choked up two or three times already. Back I go. The boyfriend has been pressed into service as a coffee maker and another cup awaits. Continue reading
It’s 10:30 on Friday. I should be out and about, but no; I’m in the middle of a project too absurd to even go into. I keep being tempted by the Harry Potter parties — it’s the last book! I’ve never gone to a midnight party, despite my obsessiveness! — but sometimes it just works out that once you’re in for the night, working on a stupid project and sipping Sierra Nevada Bigfoot Barleywine (which you swiped from your boyfriend, if you’re me), you’re in for good. But Books Without Borders is just blocks away … But if I go alone, I’ll feel … old. Continue reading