An epigraph is a short, stand-alone quote, line or paragraph that appears at the beginning of a book. Epigraphs are most commonly a short quotation from an existing work.
It’s a new year. 2022. Wow. The old year is behind us, never to be repeated. And many I have heard saying, good riddance.
And just like that it’s December again. Some things have changed since this time last year, and some things, alas, are still with us…but
Today, as it turns out, was a good day to read. Rainy, blustery, cold—perfect November weather. Perfect, as long as you didn’t have to be outside, which (happily) was the case for me
Before I came upon Seating Arrangements, I had never heard of Maggie Shipstead, It seems she went to Harvard University, the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, and went on to become a Wallace Stegner Fellow at Stanford. Seating Arrangements is one of three novels—along with Astonish Me and Great Circle (currently shortlisted for the Booker Prize).
Hello, everyone. I hope you are having a great late summer, enjoying your days, and squeezing in some reading time. I have a stack of books I have read lately and an equally tall stack of books I am looking forward to reading in the future. A bounty of books. A tower of reading yet to come.
It is officially summer, I heard someone say the other day. Summer—a time to swim and walk, sit on the back porch, boat, play tennis, recline in shade-dappled hammocks, paddleboard, read…. Plus, the world is opening up, and there’s a lot of joy in all of that. I hope you are all enjoying yourselves.
It isn’t easy to compose an article on a laptop while sitting outside in the sun, but this day is too beautiful to spend sitting inside in a darkened room, so I’m going to try. I don’t think I have ever experienced a more beautiful spring than the one we are having.
Can you imagine… Being Mortal, Lost in Shangri La, hearing the News of the World about the Destiny of the Republic that includes The Underground Railroad, Guns, Germs, and Steel, and The Wright Brothers; that the Soul of the Octopus,
Though this book is, yes, wryly funny on occasion, there is longing and sadness clucking softy between the lines.
Happy New Year, Readers! I hope you made it through the transition healthy and intact and that this year will bring peace, harmony, much needed national stability, and some more snow would be nice, too. 2021. I’m ready. I really am.
It’s a cold, rainy Monday, and I am thinking about reading. I have always been a reader. I remember so many of the books and authors I read when I was young. Pat the Bunny, Dr. Seuss, Uncle Wiggly, Pippi Longstocking, Robert Louis Stevenson, Mary Kinman Rawlings, Black Beauty, Black Hearts in Battersea—I could go on. And on. And on.
Hello, again. It seems like awhile since my last article, but who knows…time seems a bit hard to keep track of lately. I find that one day often kind of blends into another, and if pressed I frequently couldn’t tell you the date or day of the week.
I think it’s been awhile since my last article on books and reading, so as you might imagine, I have quite a stack (it’s literally a stack) of reading material.
The holidays are over and I’m feeling a bit numb. The Christmas tree is still up, a light snow is falling, the dogs are trying to convince me that a second dinner is in order, and my youngest child, a senior in college, is sitting here on the couch applying to grad school (although right now I could swear she is dozing).
While I knew she was a great writer from reading her victim-impact statement when she was known for so many years as “Emily Doe,” I was blown away by this book. Miller’s voice is strong and her writing is filled with details, reflection, humility and even hope.
Hello, readers. I hope you have been well. I hope you had a good Halloween, which would have been tricky, as the weather was about as wet as I have ever seen a Halloween get. There were lots of umbrellas, I noticed, and some very sodden goblins roaming the streets….
A couple of weeks ago my daughter and I took a summer’s-end jaunt up to Montreal. It was a lovely, short trip. We discovered such a good restaurant, Jatoba, that we went to it both nights we were there, saw the Thierry Mugler exhibit (but only once) that a friend of mine had raved about, and wandered around the Plateau area, as well as Old Port. On one of the afternoons, my daughter opted to rest for a bit, and I (not one for resting much) headed out to (you guessed it) a nearby bookstore (Indigo, on Sainte-Catherine Street).
I read for all kinds of reasons, sometimes for pleasure, sometimes to escape. Other times I read to learn new perspectives.
I don’t know what there is about Kevin Hart. I just love him. Since I first encountered him in the movie, Get Hard (my kids laugh at me for how much I went so crazy over that movie), I can’t get enough of him. I mean it; I love him. Imagine my delight when I discovered that he had written a book, I Can’t Make This Up: Life Lessons.