<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118154396909676676</id><updated>2009-10-17T18:38:06.593-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Rather Be Reading</title><subtitle type='html'>Thank You Mr. Gutenberg.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>firstlinefiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07791334570848415998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>130</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118154396909676676.post-5249504145485350238</id><published>2009-05-13T13:39:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-05-13T13:46:04.102-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Having A Book!</title><content type='html'>Thought I would just pop back in here to share my good news.  My first novel &lt;em&gt;The Last River Child&lt;/em&gt; is being published in the fall 2009 here in Canada by Second Story Press.  One of the reasons I took a leave of absence from this blog was to devote more of my time to writing.  Happily, it seems I'm not wasting my time!  If you are interested in reading about the adventures of a first time author I've started a new blog to document that.  You can find it &lt;a href="http://crampedfingers.blogspot.com/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118154396909676676-5249504145485350238?l=reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/feeds/5249504145485350238/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1118154396909676676&amp;postID=5249504145485350238' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/5249504145485350238'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/5249504145485350238'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/2009/05/im-having-book.html' title='I&apos;m Having A Book!'/><author><name>firstlinefiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07791334570848415998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07521492272782033464'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118154396909676676.post-5942054700411270289</id><published>2008-11-28T12:00:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-28T12:16:19.090-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Taking a Break</title><content type='html'>It happens sometimes. Life gets too busy and you just can't do it all. Which is what is happening with me at the moment and it means I'm going to have to stop writing this blog. Maybe it will only be temporary, or maybe I'll move on to other things. Right now I don't know. But I want to thank everyone who ever read, or commented, or contacted me. I am always thrilled by the way the Internet connects people who would never meet otherwise. I have started a new blog for people who write fiction or would like to. If that interests you, please join me &lt;a href="http://firstlinefiction.blogspot.com/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks and happy reading!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118154396909676676-5942054700411270289?l=reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/feeds/5942054700411270289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1118154396909676676&amp;postID=5942054700411270289' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/5942054700411270289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/5942054700411270289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/2008/11/taking-break.html' title='Taking a Break'/><author><name>firstlinefiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07791334570848415998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07521492272782033464'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118154396909676676.post-5810682581144409275</id><published>2008-11-12T11:44:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-12T11:57:43.235-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Giller Prize</title><content type='html'>Congratulations to Joseph Boyden for winning the Giller Prize for his novel &lt;em&gt;Through Black Spruce.&lt;/em&gt; The Giller Prize, more properly called the Scotiabank Giller Prize, is Canada's most talked about literary prize. Though that is probably only because it is worth the most money (a whopping $50,000).  But it is also broadcast on TV, takes place in a fancy hotel and everybody gets dressed up. Kind of like if the Oscars were in Canada and it was books not movies winning the prizes. That's right, it is sort of dull, but trying hard not to be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118154396909676676-5810682581144409275?l=reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/feeds/5810682581144409275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1118154396909676676&amp;postID=5810682581144409275' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/5810682581144409275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/5810682581144409275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/2008/11/giller-prize.html' title='Giller Prize'/><author><name>firstlinefiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07791334570848415998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07521492272782033464'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118154396909676676.post-5567711083255848341</id><published>2008-11-06T11:23:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T11:41:12.457-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Sea Lady</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r7zvKBpMKOw/SRMagdxpuQI/AAAAAAAAAA0/ZzOyFmqzVWY/s1600-h/DCP_0703.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265581534377261314" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r7zvKBpMKOw/SRMagdxpuQI/AAAAAAAAAA0/ZzOyFmqzVWY/s320/DCP_0703.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I'm a big Margaret Drabble fan so it is hard for me to say I was disappointed by &lt;em&gt;The Sea Lady&lt;/em&gt;.  Humphrey Clark and Aisla Kelman met as children by the seaside in England.  Now in their sixties they are on their way to meet again - one of them unwittingly - by the same seaside.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;They were very different sorts of children and, unsurprisingly, became very different sorts of adults.  Humphrey grew up to be a marine biologist, while Aisla became one of those people well-known through their books and television appearances but famous for their shocking opinions and flamboyant publicity stunts.  This is the story of their two lives, the ones they lived between the two bookend meetings of this novel.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Drabble told the story she set out to tell quite well, as she always does.  The trouble was it wasn't the story this reader most wanted to read.  I was more interested in what would happen to Humphrey and Aisla now that they had met again, rather than all that preceded this meeting.  Unfortunately I wanted this story to begin right at the spot it ended.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;First line of &lt;em&gt;The Sea Lady&lt;/em&gt; by Margaret Drabble: "The winning book was about fish, and to present it, she appeared to have dressed herself as a mermaid, in silver sequinned scales."&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118154396909676676-5567711083255848341?l=reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/feeds/5567711083255848341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1118154396909676676&amp;postID=5567711083255848341' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/5567711083255848341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/5567711083255848341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/2008/11/sea-lady.html' title='The Sea Lady'/><author><name>firstlinefiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07791334570848415998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07521492272782033464'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r7zvKBpMKOw/SRMagdxpuQI/AAAAAAAAAA0/ZzOyFmqzVWY/s72-c/DCP_0703.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118154396909676676.post-8288350102751915629</id><published>2008-11-03T12:27:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T12:43:16.905-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Gathering by Anne Enright</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r7zvKBpMKOw/SQ80psgGJTI/AAAAAAAAAAs/6lkXwX2X4iQ/s1600-h/DCP_0707.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264484380344460594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r7zvKBpMKOw/SQ80psgGJTI/AAAAAAAAAAs/6lkXwX2X4iQ/s320/DCP_0707.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Gathering&lt;/em&gt; by Anne Enright is not a happy book. It is a good book - but not a happy one. Veronica lives in Dublin with her successful husband and two young daughters. Veronica has come up in the world: she lives in a nicer house, drives a nicer car and has more money than her nine brothers and sisters. But when the sibling closest to her, Liam, commits suicide, Veronica is pulled back through memory, to their childhood and the secret she and Liam shared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found this to be a beautifully written story about the secrets and betrayals and love within a family. The language was lyrical and original, the story compelling. I felt is deserved the 2007 Man Booker Prize and look forward to reading other novels by Anne Enright.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;(This is just a quick review because I actually read this over a month ago and it is fading a bit from memory. I wanted to mention it here because it was a good book. And despite saying it is kind of a downer, it does have an upish sort of ending. In case you were worried.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;First line of &lt;em&gt;The Gathering&lt;/em&gt; by Anne Enright: &lt;em&gt;"I would like to write down what happened in my grandmother's house the summer I was eight or nine, but I am not sure if it really did happen."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118154396909676676-8288350102751915629?l=reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/feeds/8288350102751915629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1118154396909676676&amp;postID=8288350102751915629' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/8288350102751915629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/8288350102751915629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/2008/11/gathering-by-anne-enright.html' title='The Gathering by Anne Enright'/><author><name>firstlinefiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07791334570848415998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07521492272782033464'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_r7zvKBpMKOw/SQ80psgGJTI/AAAAAAAAAAs/6lkXwX2X4iQ/s72-c/DCP_0707.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118154396909676676.post-1345510198540338501</id><published>2008-10-29T11:56:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-30T13:35:39.580-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Down to a Sunless Sea</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r7zvKBpMKOw/SQiIJ6uqTSI/AAAAAAAAAAk/QV6vWm7rL6U/s1600-h/DCP_0714.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262605868547591458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r7zvKBpMKOw/SQiIJ6uqTSI/AAAAAAAAAAk/QV6vWm7rL6U/s320/DCP_0714.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Earlier this year I read an interesting book called &lt;em&gt;How to Become a Famous Writer Before You're Dead&lt;/em&gt; by Ariel Gore. One of the topics covered was self-publishing so I was excited by a book sent to me to review that took that route. (I could very easily get way off topic now and start preaching about the wonderfulness of the DIY movement but I'll save that for another time.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The book is a short story collection called &lt;em&gt;Down to a Sunless Sea&lt;/em&gt; and was written by Mathias B. Freese. Nine of the fifteen stories in this slim volume have been published in literary journals so this book nicely straddles the two worlds of publishing. As well as being a writer Mathias B. Freese is a psychotherapist and it shows in many of these short stories. Freese is most interested in the inner workings of his characters and deftly handles examinations of their thoughts and reasonings. He is particularly gifted at inhabiting the minds of those who feel on the margins of society, such as the crippled narrator in "I'll Make It. I Think."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The strange and universal land of childhood is also richly explored in this collection, sometimes by narrators who are children, such as Herbie, the wannabe shoe shine boy desperately trying to please his father in the story "Herbie" or by adult narrators remembering incidents from their childhoods, as happens in "Alabaster" the story of a man recalling his meeting with a concentration camp survivor years previously. Freese understands the allure and mystery of childhood. As the narrator of the story "Echo" states: "In hindsight, which is how we live our lives, not how we make sense of them..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In case you can't read the stickers on the book jacket in my photo, &lt;em&gt;Down to a Sunless Sea&lt;/em&gt; was awarded an Editor's Choice Award from Allbook Reviews and was a finalist for the Indie Excellence Book Awards. Wow! Congratulations to Mathias. If he keeps this up he'll be a famous writer before he's dead! To learn more about Mathias B. Freese and his books visit: &lt;a href="http://www.mathiasbfreese.com/"&gt;http://www.mathiasbfreese.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First line of &lt;em&gt;Down to a Sunless Sea&lt;/em&gt; by Mathias B. Freese: "While a young child growing up in Brighton Beach, Adam would go shopping with his mother on Brighten Beach Avenue."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118154396909676676-1345510198540338501?l=reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/feeds/1345510198540338501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1118154396909676676&amp;postID=1345510198540338501' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/1345510198540338501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/1345510198540338501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/2008/10/down-to-sunless-sea.html' title='Down to a Sunless Sea'/><author><name>firstlinefiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07791334570848415998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07521492272782033464'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r7zvKBpMKOw/SQiIJ6uqTSI/AAAAAAAAAAk/QV6vWm7rL6U/s72-c/DCP_0714.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118154396909676676.post-6900149203904795670</id><published>2008-10-20T11:32:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-20T11:37:03.832-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Le Clezio in The New Yorker</title><content type='html'>Remember Jean-Marie Gustave Le Clezio?  The guy that just won the Nobel?  The New Yorker has published a short story of his in the October 27th issue.  The haven't got it posted online or else I'd link you to it.  To read this one, you're going to have to buy a copy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118154396909676676-6900149203904795670?l=reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/feeds/6900149203904795670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1118154396909676676&amp;postID=6900149203904795670' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/6900149203904795670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/6900149203904795670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/2008/10/le-clezio-in-new-yorker.html' title='Le Clezio in The New Yorker'/><author><name>firstlinefiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07791334570848415998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07521492272782033464'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118154396909676676.post-4952636759572687653</id><published>2008-10-20T11:07:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-20T11:17:39.823-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Chick Literacy</title><content type='html'>Awhile back I contributed an essay to an anthology project which had the interesting premise to link books to personal memories.  You know how sometimes a song can instantly pull you back in time?  Well, this was the same idea except using books instead of songs.  Good idea, right?  And the point of this project was a worthy one - to raise awareness (and hopefully funds) for women's literacy.  Unfortunately, the project never found a publisher.  But the inventive and obviously undaunted editor contacted me recently to say the project has been reinvented as a blog.  You can check out it out &lt;a href="http://www.chickliteracy.blogspot.com/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.  My essay isn't there yet but I'll let you know when it gets posted.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118154396909676676-4952636759572687653?l=reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/feeds/4952636759572687653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1118154396909676676&amp;postID=4952636759572687653' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/4952636759572687653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/4952636759572687653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/2008/10/chick-literacy.html' title='Chick Literacy'/><author><name>firstlinefiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07791334570848415998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07521492272782033464'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118154396909676676.post-97140465690397336</id><published>2008-10-16T12:24:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-16T12:28:22.852-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Shocking News</title><content type='html'>I was shocked to read in this morning's newspaper the British Library has spent 500,000 pounds to purchase a major archive from the estate of Ted Hughes.  Not shocked because I don't think Ted Hughes is important and therefore worth the price, but shocked because I had forget he was dead!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118154396909676676-97140465690397336?l=reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/feeds/97140465690397336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1118154396909676676&amp;postID=97140465690397336' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/97140465690397336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/97140465690397336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/2008/10/shocking-news.html' title='Shocking News'/><author><name>firstlinefiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07791334570848415998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07521492272782033464'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118154396909676676.post-6894793851171146029</id><published>2008-10-15T12:12:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-15T12:15:39.661-04:00</updated><title type='text'>And The Booker Goes To...</title><content type='html'>Aravind Adiga has won the 2008 Man Booker Prize with his debut novel &lt;em&gt;The White Tiger&lt;/em&gt;.  I haven't read it myself but according to the judges "it shocked and entertained in equal measures."  So there you go, now you know what sort of novel you need to write in order to win the Booker.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118154396909676676-6894793851171146029?l=reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/feeds/6894793851171146029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1118154396909676676&amp;postID=6894793851171146029' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/6894793851171146029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/6894793851171146029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/2008/10/and-booker-goes-to.html' title='And The Booker Goes To...'/><author><name>firstlinefiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07791334570848415998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07521492272782033464'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118154396909676676.post-4957823358500595096</id><published>2008-10-14T12:42:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-14T12:55:44.293-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Prize Season</title><content type='html'>It is prize season in the book world.  Recently Gil Adamson was awarded the Amazon.ca/Books in Canada First Novel Award.  This is a book that has been on my radar since it was published last winter.  I have only heard good things about it.  It is definitely on my "I must read this book" list. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From Publishers WeeklyStarred Review. Set in 1903, Adamson's compelling debut tells the wintry tale of 19-year-old Mary Boulton (widowed by her own hand) and her frantic odyssey across Idaho and Montana. The details of Boulton's sad past—an unhappy marriage, a dead child, crippling depression—slowly emerge as she reluctantly ventures into the mountains, struggling to put distance between herself and her two vicious brothers-in-law, who track her like prey in retaliation for her killing of their kin. Boulton's journey and ultimate liberation—made all the more captivating by the delirium that runs in the recesses of her mind—speaks to the resilience of the female spirit in the early part of the last century. Lean prose, full-bodied characterization, memorable settings and scenes of hardship all lift this book above the pack. Already established as a writer of poetry (Ashland) and short stories (Help Me, Jacques Cousteau), Adamson also shines as novelist. (Apr.) Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118154396909676676-4957823358500595096?l=reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/feeds/4957823358500595096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1118154396909676676&amp;postID=4957823358500595096' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/4957823358500595096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/4957823358500595096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/2008/10/prize-season.html' title='Prize Season'/><author><name>firstlinefiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07791334570848415998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07521492272782033464'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118154396909676676.post-299242875677049908</id><published>2008-10-10T12:23:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-10T12:34:16.034-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I Didn't Win the Nobel - Again</title><content type='html'>Jean-Marie Gustave Le Clezio of France has been awarded this year's Nobel Prize for literature.  Congratulations to him.   I just did a quick search and it doesn't appear much of his work has been translated into English, a situation which will probably change now.  I don't know where the last year has disappeared to.  It feels like Doris Lessing was awarded the Nobel just a few months ago.  At least it feels like that to me.  Ms. Lessing might feel differently.   I truly hope she accomplished more of the goals she set for herself a year ago than I did, since I vowed to finally read &lt;em&gt;The Golden Notebook&lt;/em&gt; and haven't even cracked the binding yet.  I'll get to it Doris, I swear I will.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118154396909676676-299242875677049908?l=reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/feeds/299242875677049908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1118154396909676676&amp;postID=299242875677049908' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/299242875677049908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/299242875677049908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-didnt-win-nobel-again.html' title='I Didn&apos;t Win the Nobel - Again'/><author><name>firstlinefiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07791334570848415998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07521492272782033464'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118154396909676676.post-5327640397760755566</id><published>2008-10-07T16:46:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-07T17:07:59.729-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Still Thinking</title><content type='html'>I'm still thinking about funny books.  Life continues to be trying enough around here that I'm longing for comic relief, I guess.  In my earlier post about humorous books I can't believe I forgot the Adrian Mole series by Sue Townsend.  (Exhaustion and packing all your books away will do that to you.)  I love the Adrian Mole books and think they are hilarious.  I will happily buy them as long as Sue Townsend continues to write them.  After reading a new one I always suffer from this fear that it will be the last installment.  Seriously, I just want them to go on forever.  Now I am beginning to worry the latest, &lt;em&gt;Adrian Mole and the Weapons of Mass Destruction&lt;/em&gt; will be last.  I have to change the topic before I start to hyperventilate or break out into hives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just found out about a novel I think may be very funny.  Anybody else a fan of the movie &lt;em&gt;Withnail and I&lt;/em&gt;?  Well, the man who wrote the screenplay for that - his name is Bruce Robinson - has written a novel.  It's called &lt;em&gt;The Peculiar Memories of Thomas Penman&lt;/em&gt; and I want to read it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to the people who left comments about their favourite funny books.  All suggested titles have been added to my "I want to read this list."  A list I would share with you except it is so long I fear it may crash the Internet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118154396909676676-5327640397760755566?l=reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/feeds/5327640397760755566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1118154396909676676&amp;postID=5327640397760755566' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/5327640397760755566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/5327640397760755566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/2008/10/still-thinking.html' title='Still Thinking'/><author><name>firstlinefiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07791334570848415998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07521492272782033464'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118154396909676676.post-989791778079261573</id><published>2008-10-02T11:53:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-10-02T12:26:10.370-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Climbing Back on the Planet</title><content type='html'>I feel like I temporarily fell off the planet, but all I did was move.  Moving is hard.  Especially when everything that can go wrong, does, as happened with me.  But that is a long boring story we'll skip.  Suffice to say I'm back now and happy in my new home.  Of course, everything is still packed away in boxes and I'm living in near chaos - but what else is new, eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Question: How many Ikea Billy bookcases can you fit in a Honda Civic?&lt;br /&gt;Answer: Three.  (In the interest of science and the readers of this blog we tried our best to cram in a fourth but all our attempts failed.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sooner or later every reader comes to the same realization: there will not be enough time to read all the books you want to read.  After unpacking my books, even a mathematically challenged person like myself, could see there were more volumes than I could possibly read before I die, even if I sat down now and did nothing else but read for the rest of my days.  And I've got this funny feeling I'm probably going to acquire more books in the next forty or so years.  Isn't that sad?  It almost seems unfair.  If I could interview God (or whoever is running this odd little show called life) that is what I would like to ask.  Why so many books and so little time?  (As the tote bags, bookmarks and mugs say.)  Someone once suggested to me that heaven will be what you want it to be (or was that a Nick Bantock book?  I really need some sleep.)  Meaning if swimming is your thing, heaven will be a giant pool.  Or if reading is your thing, heaven will be an endless library.  Isn't that a wonderful thought?  I'll leave you with that dreamy image.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118154396909676676-989791778079261573?l=reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/feeds/989791778079261573/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1118154396909676676&amp;postID=989791778079261573' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/989791778079261573'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/989791778079261573'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/2008/10/climbing-back-on-planet.html' title='Climbing Back on the Planet'/><author><name>firstlinefiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07791334570848415998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07521492272782033464'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118154396909676676.post-1624678106041168483</id><published>2008-09-21T21:39:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T21:47:29.825-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Make Me Laugh</title><content type='html'>Because life is a wee bit stressful at the moment, with this move and everything, I've been searching for escape.  Escape for me is, of course, reading.  And what I would really like to read right now is something funny.  Anyone care to save my sanity and make a suggestion?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favourite funny books:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~ &lt;em&gt;A Walk in the Woods&lt;/em&gt; by Bill Bryson&lt;br /&gt;~ &lt;em&gt;Traveling Mercies&lt;/em&gt; by Anne Lamott&lt;br /&gt;~&lt;em&gt;Plan B&lt;/em&gt; by Anne Lamott&lt;br /&gt;~ &lt;em&gt;Grace (Eventually)&lt;/em&gt; by Anne Lamott&lt;br /&gt;~ &lt;em&gt;The Years With Ross&lt;/em&gt; by James Thurber&lt;br /&gt;~ &lt;em&gt;Me Talk Pretty One Day&lt;/em&gt; by David Sedaris&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118154396909676676-1624678106041168483?l=reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/feeds/1624678106041168483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1118154396909676676&amp;postID=1624678106041168483' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/1624678106041168483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/1624678106041168483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/2008/09/make-me-laugh.html' title='Make Me Laugh'/><author><name>firstlinefiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07791334570848415998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07521492272782033464'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118154396909676676.post-6485595681103716419</id><published>2008-09-15T08:44:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-15T08:56:07.812-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What Was My Crime?</title><content type='html'>This moving stuff is killing me! I feel like I've been sentenced to hard labour but I'm not sure what my crime was. We finished sanding and varnishing the floors, did I tell you? They're shiny, shiny, shiny. Now we are painting. Painting is always harder than I think it is going to be, but since everything looks better with a fresh coat of paint I keep slapping the stuff on the walls. When that is done I get to pack up all my belongings and shift them from here to there. Needless to say (but I'll say it anyway) I haven't had much time to read. I have managed to squeeze in Anne Enright's &lt;em&gt;The Gathering&lt;/em&gt; and Margaret Drabble's &lt;em&gt;The Sea Lady&lt;/em&gt;, both of which I plan to write more about as soon as I have the time and energy. Will I ever have time and energy again?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118154396909676676-6485595681103716419?l=reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/feeds/6485595681103716419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1118154396909676676&amp;postID=6485595681103716419' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/6485595681103716419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/6485595681103716419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/2008/09/what-was-my-crime.html' title='What Was My Crime?'/><author><name>firstlinefiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07791334570848415998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07521492272782033464'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118154396909676676.post-8198109102660220583</id><published>2008-09-05T15:06:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-05T15:31:41.998-04:00</updated><title type='text'>All Passion Spent</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r7zvKBpMKOw/SMGDpJFfGQI/AAAAAAAAAAc/okJcjcm1EU8/s1600-h/All+Passion+Spent+004.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5242616184072771842" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r7zvKBpMKOw/SMGDpJFfGQI/AAAAAAAAAAc/okJcjcm1EU8/s320/All+Passion+Spent+004.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Vita Sackville-West's novel &lt;em&gt;All Passion Spent&lt;/em&gt; begins with the death of former British Prime Minister, Henry Holland, first Earl of Slane. This leaves the newly widowed Lady Slane free to retire from public life and, for the first time in her life, do whatever she wishes. Being eighty-eight years old, she is not able to do much but luckily she doesn't want to scale mountains, take up surfing or drive race cars. She simply want to live in a small house in Hampstead and pass the rest of her days quietly away from society, her children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. And so she does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Very little happens in this book which is not a fault in this case. It is the story of an old woman taking stock of her life and attempting to make sense of it, as much as that is possible for anyone. It is a novel of ideas, rather than of action. And most of these ideas are about the roles of women. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;As Lady Slane sifts through her memories, she contemplates all she sacrificed, and all she gained, by devoting herself to her husband, his career and their six children. She also thinks about her secret ambition, the one that remained unfulfilled all her life, to be an artist. This was actually the weakest bit of the story. Because Lady Slane never actually painted, ever, I had difficulty taking her ambition seriously. Otherwise I enjoyed the book and enjoyed thinking about the issues it raised and how they compare to the challenges women face today.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;This is the only book by Vita Sackville-West I have read. I admit I was interested in her mainly because of her relationship with Virginia Woolf (they were lovers). Many of the ideas in this novel mirror those in Woolf's &lt;em&gt;A Room of One's Own,&lt;/em&gt; a favourite of mine. I suspect it would have been wonderful to eavesdrop on the conversations between these two fascinating women. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;First line of &lt;em&gt;All Passion Spent&lt;/em&gt; by Vita Sackville-West: Henry Lyulph Holland, first Earl of Slane, had existed for so long that the public had begun to regard him as immortal.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118154396909676676-8198109102660220583?l=reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/feeds/8198109102660220583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1118154396909676676&amp;postID=8198109102660220583' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/8198109102660220583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/8198109102660220583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/2008/09/all-passion-spent.html' title='All Passion Spent'/><author><name>firstlinefiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07791334570848415998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07521492272782033464'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_r7zvKBpMKOw/SMGDpJFfGQI/AAAAAAAAAAc/okJcjcm1EU8/s72-c/All+Passion+Spent+004.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118154396909676676.post-2608353271709493357</id><published>2008-09-05T12:00:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-05T12:02:44.857-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Letter Writers Alliance</title><content type='html'>If you, like me, consider a handwritten letter a rare and wonderous thing you might enjoy &lt;a href="http://16sparrows.typepad.com/letterwritersalliance/"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118154396909676676-2608353271709493357?l=reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/feeds/2608353271709493357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1118154396909676676&amp;postID=2608353271709493357' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/2608353271709493357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/2608353271709493357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/2008/09/letter-writers-alliance.html' title='Letter Writers Alliance'/><author><name>firstlinefiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07791334570848415998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07521492272782033464'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118154396909676676.post-3328601133282777880</id><published>2008-09-04T10:55:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-04T11:04:05.317-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Busy, busy</title><content type='html'>It's been busy, busy around here lately. We're moving into our new condo at the end of this month and there seems to be a million things to do. But I found out yesterday when I was given a welcome package from the condo that there is a library! How cool is that? I haven't checked it out yet but it seems to be a place you can donate your old, unwanted books to and people who live in the building can "check" them out, read and return them. The best part may be I now have a convenient place to donate my old books to without lugging them across town on the subway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other, non-book related news, tomorrow we are sanding the floors so if anyone has ever sanded floors before I'd love some tips.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118154396909676676-3328601133282777880?l=reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/feeds/3328601133282777880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1118154396909676676&amp;postID=3328601133282777880' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/3328601133282777880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/3328601133282777880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/2008/09/busy-busy.html' title='Busy, busy'/><author><name>firstlinefiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07791334570848415998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07521492272782033464'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118154396909676676.post-947426429423421698</id><published>2008-09-01T11:53:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-01T12:05:47.902-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Woof Woof</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The front view.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r7zvKBpMKOw/SLwRBiwbtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-yvIGC5bn_Q/s1600-h/DCP_0681.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241082784559904066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r7zvKBpMKOw/SLwRBiwbtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-yvIGC5bn_Q/s320/DCP_0681.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The side view.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241083605534686818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 328px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 259px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="225" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r7zvKBpMKOw/SLwRxVIEvmI/AAAAAAAAAAU/Wyh0lM3h1bE/s320/DCP_0683.JPG" width="323" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Every time I notice this book on my shelf I chuckle to myself.   Woof, woof Rumi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118154396909676676-947426429423421698?l=reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/feeds/947426429423421698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1118154396909676676&amp;postID=947426429423421698' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/947426429423421698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/947426429423421698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/2008/09/woof-woof.html' title='Woof Woof'/><author><name>firstlinefiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07791334570848415998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07521492272782033464'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_r7zvKBpMKOw/SLwRBiwbtUI/AAAAAAAAAAM/-yvIGC5bn_Q/s72-c/DCP_0681.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118154396909676676.post-3937687234389113625</id><published>2008-08-26T09:30:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T09:40:37.312-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Really, I'm Trying</title><content type='html'>Because I am moving next month I put myself on a book diet - I told myself I would buy no new books because I already have too many and they are going to be a nightmare to move. But in the last three days I've bought two books: &lt;em&gt;The Journals of Joyce Carol Oates 1973-1982&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;The Sea Lady&lt;/em&gt; by Margaret Drabble. I can only plead they were both on sale and therefore should not have been passed up. Right? The fact that they are both hardcover and heavy I am trying to ignore. I am now praying to the book god to give me strength. (I actually meant strength to stop buying more books, but maybe I should just give up on that and pray for the other, muscle, kind of strength.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118154396909676676-3937687234389113625?l=reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/feeds/3937687234389113625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1118154396909676676&amp;postID=3937687234389113625' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/3937687234389113625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/3937687234389113625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/2008/08/really-im-trying.html' title='Really, I&apos;m Trying'/><author><name>firstlinefiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07791334570848415998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07521492272782033464'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118154396909676676.post-7440142783498627685</id><published>2008-08-24T11:08:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-24T11:26:09.987-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Public Confessions of a Middle-Aged Woman (Aged 55 3/4)</title><content type='html'>Who doesn't love Sue Townsend?  The creator of Adrian Mole ( I can't believe that is the first time I've mentioned Adrian Mole on this blog).  Anyway this book, &lt;em&gt;Confessions of a Middle-Aged Woman (Aged 55 3/4) &lt;/em&gt;has nothing to do with Adrian Mole (though he does get a quick mention or two).  This is a collection of monthly columns Sue Townsend wrote for &lt;em&gt;Sainsbury's&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;Magazine&lt;/em&gt;.  Mostly they are about Townsend's day to day life: her new stove, vacations, nudity, burglaries, carpenters, and most alarming to me, Townsend's struggles as she slowly loses her sight due to diabetes.  Even a subject as terrifying as that she handles with humour and courage and grace, making me admire her all the more.  Though I liked some pieces better than others, overall this book was a wonderful way to while away a few summer hours.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118154396909676676-7440142783498627685?l=reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/feeds/7440142783498627685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1118154396909676676&amp;postID=7440142783498627685' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/7440142783498627685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/7440142783498627685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/2008/08/public-confessions-of-middle-aged-woman.html' title='The Public Confessions of a Middle-Aged Woman (Aged 55 3/4)'/><author><name>firstlinefiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07791334570848415998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07521492272782033464'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118154396909676676.post-3674185919849465264</id><published>2008-08-19T17:12:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-19T17:47:45.190-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Jamaica Inn</title><content type='html'>Years ago (okay it was decades ago, don't remind me) an offhand remark by a teacher made me realize authors go in and out of fashion.  It was an idea that disturbed me then and still disturbs me.  What?  Even authors are subject to the ever-changing moods of the times?  Is nothing sacred?  I guess not because over the years I've noticed this to be true.  Which brings us to Daphne duMaurier.  She is an author who was in (in a big way), then out, and whose star is rising again, I think.  And I'm happy about this because duMaurier writes old-fashioned sorts of tales of love and suspense that are hard to put down.  She deserves to be read.  Granted she may not write the most beautiful prose you've ever read but she will keep you up passed your bedtime. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm slowly making my way through duMaurier's novels.  Last week I finished reading &lt;em&gt;Jamaica&lt;/em&gt; &lt;em&gt;Inn&lt;/em&gt;: Mary Yellan's mother's dying wish was for her daughter to go live with her Aunt Patience after her death.  Little did Mary's mother know that Aunt Patience was now married to Joss Merlyn, an outlaw who ran the forbidding Jamaica Inn on a lonely stretch of the Cornish coast.  Soon after arriving Mary realized mysterious things happened under cover of darkness at Jamaica Inn.  Things she was warned to ignore, but couldn't.  Toss in a band of criminals, an albino vicar and a handsome stranger Mary is not sure she can trust and you have the page-turner that is &lt;em&gt;Jamaica Inn&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Incidentally if you are interested in reading a Daphne duMaurier novel and aren't sure where to start, I'd recommend her best known novel, and the one I read first, &lt;em&gt;Rebecca&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First line of &lt;em&gt;Jamaica Inn&lt;/em&gt; by Daphne duMaurier: It was a cold grey day in late November.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118154396909676676-3674185919849465264?l=reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/feeds/3674185919849465264/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1118154396909676676&amp;postID=3674185919849465264' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/3674185919849465264'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/3674185919849465264'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/2008/08/jamaica-inn.html' title='Jamaica Inn'/><author><name>firstlinefiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07791334570848415998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07521492272782033464'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118154396909676676.post-5066744998029021696</id><published>2008-08-14T09:41:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-14T09:49:55.378-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Just Out of Curiosity</title><content type='html'>Just out of curiosity what makes you NOT like a novel? Better yet - what makes you abandon reading a novel? Is it that you don't like the plot? The characters? The writing? A combination?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For myself, I've noticed I'll soldier on through all sorts of boring plot shenanigans and awkward writing if I love a character, but if I don't like the characters the book usually get puts down and never picked back up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118154396909676676-5066744998029021696?l=reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/feeds/5066744998029021696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1118154396909676676&amp;postID=5066744998029021696' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/5066744998029021696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/5066744998029021696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/2008/08/just-out-of-curiosity.html' title='Just Out of Curiosity'/><author><name>firstlinefiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07791334570848415998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07521492272782033464'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1118154396909676676.post-3369792262840840414</id><published>2008-08-13T13:35:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-13T13:44:34.651-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Please Apply Within</title><content type='html'>We're moving next month and though I am wildly excited about it, dread fills me every time I look at all our books.  Moving a few thousand books is going to be back-breaking work, isn't it?  I thought so.  If you've done this sort of foolishness yourself and learned a few things along the way, this would be the time to give me your hard earned wisdom.  It will be much appreciated.  So please tell me where you learned to levitate books.  Or how you figured out how to twitch your nose and make your library disappear from your shabby old digs and magically reappear in your wonderful new address.  Or if you would like to apply for the position of Chief Book Mover please apply within.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1118154396909676676-3369792262840840414?l=reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/feeds/3369792262840840414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1118154396909676676&amp;postID=3369792262840840414' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/3369792262840840414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1118154396909676676/posts/default/3369792262840840414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://reallyratherbereading.blogspot.com/2008/08/please-apply-within.html' title='Please Apply Within'/><author><name>firstlinefiction</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07791334570848415998</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='07521492272782033464'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry></feed>