This has to be one of the weirdest February's on record around here. Mild, mild temperatures, thunder, lightening and rain. Alas my reading this month wasn't quite as exciting. Got four books under my belt this month. Two Nero Wolfes, a great book about the television industry and a procedural about the Baltimore police homicide squad. The Rubber Band is Rex Stout's third Nero Wolfe novel and The Red Box his fourth. The two were written in the 1930's but they're wickedly funny and intriguing as far as detective stories go. The third book was a fascinating look at that era of television unique to me and my generation, following the so-called golden age of television. The Platinum Age of Television: An Evolutionary History of Quality TV was a delightful and comprehensive look at television from the 60s and 70s onward. It's full of behind the scenes gems mined by TV critic David Bianculli. The last book of the month fooled me. I remember wa...
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Hello my American friends. I haven't seen your names show up among those folks streaming across our border through frozen fields of snow into our country so I guess you've decided to stick things out. How do you like him so far? Funny how your leader has gone from The Donald to The President but still acts like The Donald. The epitome of self promotion he, and at least one other in his family, seem to have latched onto the ultimate way to improve the Trump brand. Although in Ivanka's case, I'm not so sure. In the United States your President Donald Trump is king of reality TV. In Canada our Prime Minister Justin "Joe" Trudeau is King of the selfie. But there's a difference between our two preening leaders. One thinks he's popular. among the electorate. The other actually is I feel sad for DJT because he lives alone in the White House as his wife, clearly not enamoured with this First Lady business has chosen to live in Trump Tower in New Yor...
He made his way down the stairs from the first level of the parking garage, his cane in one hand and the cold metal railing in the other. A loudmouthed mix of mostly millennials ran past him halting his downward progress. He waited until the joyful group exited the stairwell and then continued his slow and steady progress. He reached the hospital entrance not unlike that tortoise who kept saying to himself 'slow and steady wins the race'. He knew he had the slow part down. The cane helped with the steady. But then he was in no hurry. His chemo appointment wasn't for another twenty-five minutes. He stopped and quickly queued at Second Cup and ordered a medium, then shuffled to the counter where they kept the milk and sweetener. He stirred his coffee, popped a lid on top and made his way to the elevators. Back out in the main area he was amazed at the number of people rushing to and fro moving much faster than he was capable of. And he marvelled at the number of people...
Jack Arturie was in love. He had been for 30 years. Following a five year dating period Jack asked Tara Swain to marry him. Lucky for him, she accepted and they'd shared 25 years of wedded bliss. What's in a name? Well, she was his lovely swain for all the years they were together. Tara was a little old school and believed the way to a man's heart was through his stomach. To this end she learned to bake and created sinfully sweet desserts for Jack at every meal. Jack, of course, was in heaven and left unchecked he ballooned to well over 300 pounds. But Tara still loved Jack and continued to aim for his ever-increasing belt-sized stomach. When out for lunch with Jack, his friends would express their concern over his sugar intake and ask if he'd ever asked his doctor to check for diabetes. Jack would simply laugh off their interventions as he tucked into a chocolate three-layer cake and washed it down with a Gatorade. Snack-time was no different. Often Jack wou...
Stan was an English major. He'd studied four years and was proud of his personal prowess when it came to his phraseology. That's vocabulary to you and me. He wasn't bad with the Sunday Times crossword puzzle either. He was making his way through the latest word challenge as he sat in Starbuck's sipping an espresso. The shimmering sunshine slipped through the open window casting the shadow from his pencil placidly upon his newspaper. And if it weren't for the occasional bawl of the baristas seeking to match a coffee cup with a customer, the subtle drone of patrons made him almost doze off. Stan thought the interior of the coffee shop was idyllic. Idyllic was a favourite word of Stan's and he often felt his surroundings to be idyllic, an outlook in keeping with his ultra-positive look at life. He also had great ardor for alliteration, in case you hadn't noticed. And then there was Oliver. Oliver was a good friend of Stan's - the best perhaps. But ...
Terry said he'd meet Rich and Dave at two o'clock. Rich and Dave arrived at the agreed upon meeting place together, 15 minutes ahead of schedule. Now, you should know that this was back in the day when cell phones and iPads hadn't been invented yet. And people would have looked funny carrying a rotary phone in their pocket. Plus the telephone cord would have to be super long. Anyway, Rich and Dave were forced into a little session of "I Spy With My Little Eye" to pass the time until Terry arrived. As it turned out Terry was unavoidably detained and Rich and Dave were simply dying of boredom. After all, when you've seen one chrome refrigerator in the appliance store you've seen them all. Neither of them had thought to bring a pencil or paper so tic-tac-toe and origami were both out. Tick-tock, tick-tock the time passed so slowly they were bored right out of their skulls. At last, 30 minutes past the time they were supposed to meet, Terry arrived on...
It's a new month and a new year and having aimed at reading at least 50 books this year January saw me wade through seven books. Just shows you what you can accomplish when you're not spending all your time reading Trump-related posts on Facebook. And I find my blood pressure's dropped, too. Spies, detectives, musicians, actors and entertainers held my interest last month. I'd started an old Le Carre novel, A Perfect Spy, before I left Panama at the beginning of the month and wrapped it up when I got home. Then it was into Powerhouse by James Miller - all about the agency business in Hollywood. It was kind if interesting with lots of behind the scenes stuff about the key agency movers and shakers. and how agencies grew from representing actors to getting involved in myriad other activities like banking and sports. For What It's Worth was a bit of a guilty pleasure all about The Buffalo Springfield, the 60s group with Stephen Stills, Neil Young and Richie Fu...
Neil knelt next to Norman. Norman lay still upon the ground, a pool of crimson red spread slowly like a halo around his head. Neil's mind was a blank. He recalled the beers he and Norman had shared earlier that night. But between than and now, as he gazed upon his blood-soaked hands, nothing. And now Norman was dead. And Neil couldn't figure out what had happened. His head hurt. Not from trying to focus on the events since the two had left the bar but rather from the large goose egg on the back of his skull. He realized he had the large bump when he had raked his fingers through his hair and discovered a soft spot on his, what was the old word for it, pate. It was the only part of his body he could feel at the moment. It hurt so much he felt like he was just one big head. But common sense told him that couldn't be. He knew that he felt that way from the pain that came with part of his skull being bashed in. He then realized that he hadn't killed Norman, although...
It was about three days into Bob's vacation. He'd travelled to warmer climes to escape the wintry weather back home. From what he'd seen on social media he'd picked the right time. Snow, sleet and freezing raining had all put in an appearance in his absence. Bob felt lucky. Even though he had some mobility issues and walked with a cane, he managed to make the daily trek past the resort's swimming pools to his bamboo-umbrellaed beach chair near the ocean's edge where he enjoyed the sites and sounds of the beach. So, in the absence of niveous nervousness Bob relaxed away the hours in the tropical sun. But on this day Bob had stayed all morning at the beach and eventually had to go pee. Instead of walking all the way back to the condo Bob thought he'd just dip quickly in the ocean, subtly relieve himself and then return to his spot among the dancing dune buggies and bikini-clad babes. Particularly the latter and for that he was grateful for his sunglasse...
Here, as promised is a month-by-month breakdown of the 67 books I delved into this year. I got off to a strong start and then my intake dwindled for a couple of months until picking back up in April. I'll let you in on my favourites at the end of this list. January Here, There and Everywhere: My Life Recording the Music of the Beatles - Geoff Emerick - **** H is for Hawk - Helen Macdonald - *** Close To The Edge - The Story of Yes - Chris Welch - *** Sweet Caress - William Boyd - **** February Purity by Jonathan Franzen Still Alice by Lisa Genova. March Natchez Burning - Greg Iles The Promise (Elvis Cole #20) - Robert Crais April The Snowman (Harry Hole)- Joe Nesbo **** Phantom (Harry Hole) - Joe Nesbo **** The Leopard (Harry Hole) - Jo Nesbo **** May George Harrison Reconsidered *** The Heart Goes Last - Margaret Atwood **** Dropping The Needle - The Vinyl Dialogues Volume II *** The Electric Mist with the Confederate Dead, (Dave Rob...
Well, are you set for the big finish? You'll recall at the beginning of the year I'd set for myself the target of reading 50 books this year. Well, I went a little over, zipping through 6 books last month and ending out the year with a total of 67. It was an interesting month, as electric as ever, and I gave four books five/five stars. First there was This Was a Man by Jeffrey Archer, one of my favourite authors, the 7th and final book in the so-called Clifton Chronicles, a sprawling family history of business and politics. Then there was the excellent Testimony: A Memoir, the long-anticipated autobiography of The Band's Robbie Robertson. Then I read a book recommended by my wife, The Book of Negroes by Canadian author Lawrence Hill. Very well written. Great story. Don't know why, but I picked up Phil Collins' autobiography, Not Dead Yet: The Memoir. Meh. It was so-so. But it had a lot of interesting trivia about Genesis and Collins' solo career. An...
I read five books last month bringing my year to date total to 61, well past the 50 I estimated at the beginning of the year. And I've yet to get through December. The month started out with The Nix, the debut novel by Nathan Hill which has been receiving a lot off positive reviews. In it Hill flips back and fourth from the 1968 Chicago protests and 2011 in a desperate search for the truth behind why his mother abandoned him at an early age. In between Hill takes on politics, the media and addiction as well as other aspects of society. It's a well-spun tale and I quite enjoyed reading it. Next up was the auto-biographical I Am Brian Wilson of Beach Boys fame. This was somewhat of a scattered affair but an interesting read nonetheless. Wilson - or his ghostwriter - however is no Hemingway. Then it was on to one of my favourite authors, Ian Rankin and his latest tale of now retired Inspector John Rebus, Rather Be The Devil. I never tire of these stories and this is the 2...
This week's prompt is scurrilous/defamatory . Sammy the squirrel was tired. It was Thanksgiving and he was ready for a rest. He'd been busy since April gathering nuts. Most squirrels start gathering nuts in May but Sammy liked to get a leg up on his fellow members of the Scoriae family. Not a literal leg up, you understand. That sounds kinda pornographic. But a leg up in the sense of getting an added advantage over the other squirrels. Sammy worked hard to have the biggest nuts in the forest. Wait, wait, wait - the biggest cache of nuts. I don't want to mislead you all. However, what Sammy didn't know was that Steve the squirrel had kept his eye on Sammy. But surreptitiously. Now that's a big word for a squirrel, and for some humans. But if you don't know what it means I won't tell. It'll be our little secret. Steve was a lazy squirrel. He wasn't one to make hay while the sun shines. He was one to watch others make hay or in Sammy's c...
This week the prompt is atelier/studio . Here's how I used the prompt. Iggy and Pete were the best of friends. They spent a lot of time together. Be it with their wives and families or just hanging out together. A couple of guys. Sometimes they played golf together. Other time they played board games. They even did jigsaw puzzles together. Of course the ones with plenty of sky were the toughest and usually took the longest to complete. They played video games and loved to watch football on television. In all these endeavours they never really competed with each other. Their temperaments were similar and so they simply enjoyed whatever they undertook together. No pressure. They truly were buddies. Real man-men, whatever that means. Manly men doing manly things. Together. They really had a bromance going. One day Pete and Iggy played poker. For money. And Iggy was losing. Big time. The more hands Pete won the cockier he got. For instance he told his friend he was bound to ...
The prompt this week is ignominy/embarrassment . I humbly submit the following interpretation. I've always loved this song and I'm happy this post allows me to share it with you... That's the official video. Now here's the "interpretive" one: Sorry? What? You say the prompt wasn't Imbruglia? It was ignominy? Well, this is an embarrassment. The prompt people are Our Write Side and you can find other posts on their site at Two Word Tuesday
Most of Bob and Betty's friends found the couple engaging. Which was a good thing after a three year betrothal but no firm date set for the happy day. Not that the engagement day hadn't been happy. Nor the days since. But three years, thought Betty, this was pushing the limit. She wanted to buy a house with Bob, settle down, and have kids. And then, without warning, Bob said they should set a date. Betty didn't have to be asked twice. So they set a date, sent invitations to family and friends, got married and set about finding a home together. They used to laugh at all the couples on HGTV's House Hunters thumbing their noses at houses that weren't suitable or that were the wrong colour, or needed renovation work in the kitchen or bathrooms. They used to laugh. But now that it was their turn they weren't laughing. Their agent took them to house after house at this end of town and that end of town and even out of town. Betty was moved to tears and Bob wa...
Well I hit my projected 50 books this year, and then some. Having read 46 by the end of September, another 10 during October brought me to 56 books read this year. And there's still November and December to take into account. It's been quite a year when it comes to me and the printed page. October was as eclectic as ever with some music industry books, some old favourite detective tales and a little something new and different. In the music category Pigs Might Fly, titled for a possible Pink Floyd reunion, was a great read. As was Bruce Springsteen's autobiography. This guy can really write and his story is full of great anecdotes. Also interesting but to a lesser extent were Apathy For The Devil by former British rock writer Nick Kent and Never Say No To A Rock Star by former record engineer Glenn Berger. But I have to say the month was special in terms of returning to some of my favourite authors and a great collection of detective and investigative characters. ...
Earlier this week the book I was reading wasn't doing it for me and as I sat there on the couch staring off into space my mind started to wander. I started thinking about how old I was and the life I've lived and how it all seemed to pass so fast over the last 64 years. Don't get me wrong. It's been a great life and there's very little I'd change but I was starting to think about my mortality and how my cancer over the last ten years had kind of put a crimp in things. Remember the Who singing "I hope I die before I get old"? There was a time, years ago, I believed that. Not so much anymore. And who can forget that line from the aging, tossed-aside film star Nora Desmond in one of my favourite films Sunset Boulevard; "I am big. It's the pictures that got small". But like Desmond I'm not fooling anyone. Not even myself. I am old. Like when I go to bed. Geez, I'm under the covers, hearing aids removed by 8:30pm. Good thing...
Baseball's Blue Jays didn't make it to the World Series. They lost their best-of-seven series against the Cleveland Indigenous People. Who? you say. Well, I call them that ever since well-known Canadian Aboriginal activist Douglas Cardinal took them to Ontario court in an effort to prevent them from wearing their "Indians" uniforms and using "Chief Wahoo" as their team logo. I understand Cardinal's sentiments but I don't think teams like the Indians or the Braves or the Kansas City Chiefs for that matter are going to change their names unless it's voluntarily. And I whole-heartedly support a change from such offensive monikers. I'm not a big baseball fan but when Canada's team gets into the playoffs you gotta cheer. I'm more of a National Football League guy. And the NFL isn't without it's offensive team names. For example, how about the Washington Redskins. The Redskins started out in Boston in 1932 and they've remai...