The Moon Tenders

The Moon Tenders by August Derleth (1958) This is by famous Wisconsin author, August Derleth, who wrote an astounding number of books, but I'm not going to go into his history—for one, that could be a separate biography book—plus, I don't know much, but it's worth looking up—a really interesting character. Also, this title is the first book of a series, I believe called the “Mill Creek Irregulars”—but you have no indication of that on this copy—it appears to be a standalone mystery, involving two high school age boys in “Sac Prairie” Wisconsin. Derleth lived in Prairie Du Sac/Sauk City, and I guess set this series of mysteries in the area, using actual places and geography—so if you lived around there, it would be fun to follow along—or even with a good map, you can find the places. I'm not sure of the time period, but it's much earlier than the publication date, so it has a real old-time feel to it, but it's also not dependent on time-period specifics, so it has a real “timeless” feeling to it. The writing in the book is very good, quite literary. It's a lot more detailed, well-written, and philosophical than most boys adventure books. They are dealing with some real family issues, and ethics. It's just a great adventure, too, about these two friends who build a raft, then take it down the Wisconsin River, a ways. You can actually follow their progress on a map. They go to a place called “Bogus Bluff,” which is a real place, on the river. The mystery gets going quite slowly, so there's a real build to it. They discover a cave, and some counterfeiters, eventually, but I don't want to give away the story. I think anyone I know who likes reading fiction should check this book out—it's really good! And the way it played out—very satisfying—it didn't feel sensational at all—it was actually believable. Also, I felt a real sense of danger, like this visceral feeling of worry for these two boys—I mean, I was sweating for them. The counterfeiters are really great, complex, well-drawn characters, too—I felt like I was watching an old movie, and a good one. This book is kind of hard to find, but worth looking for—and if anyone sees any of the other titles in the series (hard to find, a bit collectable, and expensive), please let me know—I want to read them all—preferably in order.

I'm Thinking of Ending Things

I'm Thinking of Ending Things by Iain Reid (2016) Someone recommended this book to me awhile back, and while reading it I found out that a movie by Charlie Kaufman was going to be based on it. That doesn't happen too often, the timing. A brief description of the book mentions that it's a “thriller”—and I normally stay away from that kind of stuff—thrillers, horror, etc. (though I do love The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson). Oddly, I recently watched The Birds (1963) for the nth time, and I still don't know if I love or hate that movie, but maybe that's its strength. Around the same time, I happened to hear the author, Iain Reid, on a podcast, and I really liked him. Also, there's a snowy picture on the cover, and a lot of snow in the story. I'm a simple person. I want snow, pizza, a fireplace. I also like really commonplace things and conversation, even what most people find “boring.” I loved these characters driving in a car talking, and a lot of the interesting side subjects. However, there are elements that instantly unnerve you, keep you unbalanced, and don't allow you to get footing in reality. That is to some degree the point, and I'm not going to reveal anything further, but I'm not sure I even understand how it all falls together—and that's okay with me—in fact, I like that, usually—but only if there is something underneath it all, like the feeling you get when the weather changes. I heard a good argument recently (in regard to movies based on books) that you should see the movie first. I always felt the other way around—but in this case, you might take in these two forms simultaneously. That might be fun, but more fun with a friend, I suppose, because neither one of these works is going to hold your hand. Ultimately, I'm not going to come around to thrillers, psychological or otherwise, but it's good to get out of your usual habits once in awhile.

Cat Parade

Cat Parade – cartoon drawings by Jeff Curtis (2019) Volume 1. This is a large, full color, 64 page book of drawings from Jeff Curtis, who is an artist, musician, and friend to cats. There is a huge variety of stuff here, from multiple panel cartoons to full page drawings, to multiple page episodes, with many approaches and styles. The one thing it all has in common is, yes, cats—renderings from fairly naturalistic to nearly abstract, comic, demonic, fantastic, even cute. There are cats here for every idea of the essence of cats. If you're like me, you love all animals, but find there is something about cats that goes beyond... I don't know what it is. Or maybe you don't like cats... in which case, I feel sorry for you. But you can change. Everyone can change. Cats are a good place to start! Here's a little known fact: You can be a “Dog Person” and still love cats. If I have to pick a favorite drawing here—I can't really, but maybe the black cat emerging from a cup of diner coffee. That's four of my favorite things in one odd drawing: black cats, diner coffee, magic, and etc.

Moving Day

Moving Day by Helen Train Hilles (1954) This is a charming, old, library book, beat up but indestructible, for kids (it says: “Ages 5 to 8”—which seems narrow to me, but what do I know about children's reading levels). It's especially appealing because of these great wood-cut-like illustrations by Jean Tamburine. It's probably meant to be helpful for kids who are going through the weirdness of moving from their childhood home to somewhere new—which is something I didn't go through as a kid—and I'm thankful about that, and also feel a bit like I missed out on something. This family moves from a house into a brand new housing project apartment block. The kids are pretty alienated by the new place, but they adjust. There are a few odd details—this is over half a century ago, after all. When they are packing, they put a lot of odds and ends into some old-fashioned barrels, you know, like wooden barrels—packed with excelsior. Then the movers just take the barrel. This seems to make a lot of sense—that's the hardest part of moving—all the little stuff that doesn't seem to fit in anywhere, but you have to handle it. I wonder why we've gotten away from using barrels for anything?

Homer Price

Homer Price by Robert McCloskey (1943) This was one of my favorite books when I was a kid, and I've carried around a copy with me ever since, but I hadn't actually read it in so long, it was like a new book to me. It was actually pretty surprising, how strange these six stories are, funny and sophisticated. It's also illustrated by Robert McCloskey, and he's one of the best. I'm not going to take the time to describe each of these stories—they're all quite different—except for one, called “The Doughnuts”—probably the most well-known—a short film was made from it, and you can watch it on youtube. I was surprised to find a piece of paper in the book, with a handwritten short story I wrote, called “The Doughnuts”—I might get around to reading that, sometime—who knows. The story in the book is about a Homer's uncle's lunch counter, where one evening his automatic doughnut machine goes berserk and keeps making doughnuts—like thousands of them. It really appeals to the imagination, and the excellent illustrations don't hurt! As a young man I discovered a diner in my hometown that had a similar doughnut machine—which became one of my personal seven wonders of the world. One more thing—I started writing a novel in the late 1990s, and I've worked on it on and off since—but finally finished it this month. It went through several different titles in its long and involved evolution, and I'm not exactly sure when I finally settled on the title, The Doughnuts, but that's what it is.

Chuck Klosterman X

Chuck Klosterman X by Chuck Klosterman (2017) This book is titled Chuck Klosterman X, I guess, not just X, and is a pretty hefty collection of articles he wrote for magazines, with a good index—I got it out of the library to read one specific thing, but since we have not been able to return library books, I put it in the bathroom and it served as my on-the-toilet reading for a significant part of the quarantine. I hope that doesn't gross anyone out—I wash my hands as much as the next guy, if not more. Anyway, it was a great book for that, really fun and comforting and intellectually stimulating, and I read it from cover to cover. He writes about various popular culture, though about music and sports, primarily—two of my major interests—but the standouts for me were an article about nostalgia, and one about social media, both of them a bit mind-expanding. And also a few of the interviews, particularly ones with Stephen Malkmus and Jimmy Page, because I like those guys. But also, it was fun reading the interviews and profiles about people I knew nothing about. Oh, also, an article about the Cleveland Browns is pretty great. The longest and possibly most impressive piece in the book is an extensive examination of the band KISS—the extent of it! If Klosterman was ever forced to present himself to the “Master of Lunacy”—as in the movie The Ruling Class (1972)—he'd be wise to leave this bit of evidence out of his defense. Hopefully it doesn't come to that, however, because, for me, he does as much as anyone to provide a voice of sanity in this unhinged world none of us are going to escape from.

Ginny Gordon and the Mystery at the Old Barn

Ginny Gordon and the Mystery at the Old Barn by Julie Campbell (1951) This is the third Ginny Gordon book, and she her friends fix up an old barn, call it the Snack Barn, where they will serve food to the locals. She and her friends call themselves “The Hustlers” (this was well before The Hustler with Paul Newman, “Do the Hustle,” and Hustler magazine—Larry Flynt would have been about nine when this book came out, so who knows). The problem with their plan is a “Hillbilly” singer (who plays accordion) from Kentucky has showed up in town and started singing at the Inn (an established place in town), and he's made such a big splash, they're afraid it will kill their new business before it gets established. This singer, whose name is Lochinvar, is so charismatic, you'd think he was Elvis, but this book came out in 1951, a few years before the Elvis' first records. For a long stretch, this book just seems like it's going to be comic episodes of mishaps at the Snack Barn and Ginny's friends trying to thwart the singer, but eventually a really convoluted and exciting mystery develops. I won't give it away, because I assume if you're reading this, you'll likely want to read this book.

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone by J.K. Rowling (1997) It's kind of shocking to realize the first Harry Potter book came out 23 years ago—it feels like a very recent thing to me. But then, 1997 feels like just yesterday to me, as well. Because these books were such a big thing, and are such a big part of our culture, I felt like I should read one. If I loved it, maybe I'd read them all, since I'm someone who reads children's books regularly, anyway. I enjoyed this book for the most part, since it's a forward-moving, exciting story, and there are some pretty odd details here and there. But I don't think I'll read more—for one thing, there are seven books—and it seems like they all get longer, too! It's no surprise to me that the book is well-written, and the characters are well-drawn, etc.—I expected that. I was thinking I might find some clue within that points to such an immense popularity, but I can't find it. I'm sure there are countless things written about that, somewhere, but in a way, I'm not sure if I really care, because that would be similar to trying to figure out the why the immense popularity of all the immensely popular books—as well as movies, music, etc.—that have little if any appeal to me. I mean, at least I thought this book was entertaining. A lot of popular stuff I find to be garbage. My major problem with Harry Potter has to do with subject matter—I'm just not interested at all in the entire realm of “wizards”—which includes all the wizard books and movies ever made. Unless someone can convince me that there are actual, real wizards in the world (I'm sure that many people do believe this), whenever I come across a wizard story, I just keep flipping the channel. In a more general way of looking at it, I'm not that interested in “fantasy.” A lot of people love fantasy, and sometimes I wonder why I don't. Is it that they just have a more visceral connection to the metaphorical side of fantasy stories—where someone like me can see it, but not feel it? Or maybe there is something else—say how some people are easily bored by the commonplace, while I'm enchanted by it. I'm not saying one way of looking at things is better than the other, but there sure is a difference! As a final, positive, note, here's a quote I wrote down, from the end of story pretty much, that I like a lot—this is said by Dumbledore, about the scary, evil wizard, who previously, people refused to even name: “Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself.” I feel like that is kind of the heart of the whole thing, ultimately—it's a strong and important idea. I do kind of wonder if that idea is explored in further books. Anyway, if that's a message that gets through to kids (or anyone) reading this book, that's a good thing.

X Marks the Spy

X Marks the Spy by Jack Lancer (1967) This is the first of the Christoper Cool TEEN Agent books, a six book series from the late Sixties—I saw several of them at an antique store—I'd never seen them, or heard of this series, so kind of against my better judgment, I bought the first one. As expected, it's kind of a teen version of James Bond, though without the sex, drinking, smoking, and gambling that teens are famous for. The action story is not my thing, but I wanted to get through it—though it was a bit of a struggle. Chris is kind of a frat-boy, and his co-agent is named Geronimo Johnson, who is an Apache. At least they are somewhat of equal stature—he's not just there for comic relief. There's also a young woman agent, Spice Carter, who I suspect Chris is attracted to, but they're just too busy for much fooling around. Probably the most ridiculous escapade in the book is, at one point, in order to attend a crucial event, Chris puts on an impromptu disguise as a Swahili by donning an ornate curtain and applying some spy makeup to his face and hair. Mostly, though, I found the book only mildly offensive, but also, oddly, too contemporary for me. It's funny, a lot of my favorite movies and music is from the early Seventies or so, but with kids' series books, I have to go back a few more decades before I find them interesting, for the most part. I'm not sure why that is.

The Riddle in Red

The Riddle in Red by Betsy Allen (1948) This is the second Connie Blair Mystery, and next to the first (The Clue in Blue), it feels a little claustrophobic, maybe just because most of it deals with her new job as a receptionist at an ad agency. Maybe it's a little too close to home. But then, I really liked the first one a lot, so there's a lot to live up to. Again Connie Blair heads out of her small home town, to Philadelphia, and stays with her very cool aunt—this time she's landed a job at pretty fancy-pants ad agency. It starts out with some real true-to-life job stuff—kind of oppressive, but Connie has a good attitude. Soon she gets mixed up in a mystery involving this intense woman who is the head a cosmetics company. It's funny, I just saw a Columbo episode that was centered on the cosmetics industry, and I swear a couple of the characters, including the cosmetics woman (who is also the murderer, played by Vera Myles) are based directly on this book! It was kind of eerie! I won't say what happens in this story (very different than the Columbo) but it is a pretty good mystery, with a satisfying conclusion. The two Connie Blair mysteries that I've now read were both good, and much better written than most of these series book—I mean, kind of strikingly well-written, at least in my opinion (I am, of course, an adult who reads kids' books). So I'm definitely planning on reading the next one—and maybe even the entire series (there are only 12 in all). They each have the name of a color as part of the title, like the Travis McGee books. I'm kind of a sucker for stuff like that.

The Mystery of Cabin Island

The Mystery of Cabin Island by Franklin W. Dixon (1929) This is the eighth Hardy Boy Mystery and a favorite one to many, including me. It doesn't have the best mystery, and it doesn't have the high weirdness of many of the original texts of the early Hardys, but it's maybe the best winter kid's book I've read—and I love the winter ones. The Hardys, Frank and Joe, along with friends Chet and Biff, get permission to spend Christmas week at a rustic cabin on an island out in the bay near where they live. They reach it by ice boat (there's a lot of ice boating action in this book). There are some intense snow storms, of course—almost the highlight of the book for me. Being in a cabin, in weather, and making good food. You almost don't need a mystery. But there is one, with some unsavory characters—though no one really too bad, which is actually kind of nice. Oh, also, there's clue involving a cipher! You can't beat that (and you can try to solve it yourself, if you like that kind of thing). The only downside of this book, for me, was almost an entire chapter involving a fox hunt (if you're a hunter, you might be into this). These were different times. The kids have guns with them. I could never hunt animals, and especially not foxes—there are some near where I live, and they're pretty cute! I used to get a Hardy Boy book every Christmas when I was a kid, and it must have been a pretty good one the year I got this book and started reading it next to the fireplace. I've read it over several times since. That first night they're on Cabin Island, a delicious dinner, and then to bed with the wind howling—and then the ghost! It's the best.

This Planet is Doomed

This Planet is Doomed by Sun Ra (2011) I bought a copy of this book the last time (I think) I was in New York, at a small bookstore—and it just really cheered me up—it's the kind of book that's nice to have—“the science fiction poetry” of Sun Ra, who I was, and still am, a big fan of. I saw him and his “Arkestra” play in Columbus, Ohio, at a fairly small club, sometime in the 80s, I think, and it was pretty inspiring. He recorded a lot of music over the years, some of it pretty out there, but when I'm in the mood for it, there's nothing better. Like most poetry books, I didn't read through this from cover to cover—I pick it up now and then and try to find something that connects with me. It's nice to let the words wash over you, or if you're feeling up to it, read one really closely. Sun Ra claimed to have visited Saturn, and even though that's a pretty outrageous story, I more or less believe him.

On Writing

On Writing by Stephen King (2000) This book is subtitled “A Memoir of the Craft” and is part memoir and part advice for young, new, or aspiring writers, as well as people like me, old, old, aspiring writers. There is a lot of plain advice in this book, stuff you might get from other books about writing, or good teachers of writing. Some of it is stuff I learned and forgot. You've got to keep relearning that stuff, like with any other activity, like brain surgery or baking—though, unlike, apparently, riding a bike. Besides this advice, and nuts and bolts stuff, he also talks about why he started writing, how things happened for him, his writing habits, and most significant of all, I feel, the joy he gets from it. Relating all this stuff—in writing, naturally—is easy to understand and compelling to read. I guess there's a reason he sells so many books—he's a really good writer. Also, pretty likable. That shouldn't be surprising necessarily, except that many, many people who are even near his level of success and wealth seem to be raging assholes. Oh, and the last part of the book is his account of this terrible accident he was in, and how it affected him. It sounds like he's lucky to be alive, and grateful to be alive, and grateful for all his success, too. I've never read a novel by Stephen King (generally horror is not my thing—I mean, it's not, at all), but I might read one now. I was happy to read this book, found it helpful and inspirational.

My Struggle: Book 1

My Struggle: Book1 by Karl Ove Knausgaard (2009) My friend Elissa and I once joked how we'd write a book called the Bible—just the idea seemed like the most punk rock thing you could do—but seeing how “bible” has been appropriated by everyone writing guides, from experts to idiots, it feels much more punk rock to name your book Min Kamp, since Hitler is a guy most people still shy away from sharing a bunkbed with. And seeing how the English title, My Struggle, practically gift-wraps easy, humorous reviews by lazy book critics, you kind of have to admire Karl Ove Knausgaard as someone who seems not to give a fuck. And writing about barely or not disguised close friends and family in intimate detail would seem to confirm that. On the other hand, you sense he cares deeply about people, as well, and the world at large, as well as the most minute corner of his experience—and I think those seemingly contradictory elements are partly responsible for this six volume literary home-run. Personally, I did have trouble getting through Book One, but then I was really impressed with how he slowed things down to such an insane extent the further you got into it—so the ending section, about putting things in order at his father's house, after his death—it's kind of incredible. It might take him a page to roll a cigarette. Seeing how I love the approach of elevating the mundane, blurring memoir and fiction, and all with straight-ahead crystal clear style, you'd think this is the book for me. I did like it, too, even if it took my slow reading self a long time to get through it. Where I didn't connect, I guess, is just the slightly alien flavor of another country, a marriage, children (his childhood, and I'm guessing, in later books, his children). So I did enjoy reading this one, but the next five, I don't think so.

The Moving Picture Girls at Oak Farm

The Moving Picture Girls at Oak Farm by Laura Lee Hope (1914) The subtitle of this book is: Or Queer Happenings While Taking Rural Plays. I love how old books used to have subtitles—I wonder if that's something I should make a point in doing—that is, if I ever write fiction again. Laura Lee Hope, of course, is not a person, but a name the publisher used as an author for any number of series books. Sometimes you can find out who the real author is if you dig deep enough. Whoever wrote this one might have authored any number of series books at the time. This book is really well-written, just surprisingly so. For a book that's over 100 years old, it has a fairly contemporary sensibility—I think anyone could read this now and enjoy it as a somewhat comic mystery of about a troupe of filmmakers who go to the country and stay on a farm in order to shoot silent film that is then processed back in New York and put out as entertainment. A lot of the ideas, sensibility, frustrations, and problems with filmmaking was, apparently, then pretty much exactly the same as it is now! There are a lot ongoing threads and gags about the characters' envy of each other, and stage actors feeling film is beneath them, and the kind of focused craziness of the filmmakers to capture images. Several times there are fiascos and mistakes that turn out to be interesting on film and reroute the direction of the stories being made. There are a lot of characters—more than I could easily follow, so I just let it flow and didn't worry about it. There's a fairly predictable mystery running through the story, of course, that has a satisfying outcome. Did I mention that there is a bee swarm? I don't want to give anything away, but the chapter with the bee swarm is particularly exciting, well-written, and even educational! I was pretty excited to find this book, as it was the first I'd heard of the Moving Picture Girls, and the book itself, judging by endpaper ads, is likely from the early Twenties, so it's kind of exciting just handling something that old—and exactly in the fashion for which it was intended—lying in bed reading, engaging my imagination. I liked this one enough to read another of the series, if I ever find one—the title of the next adventure, Snowbound, is particularly appealing to me.

The Secret of the Caves

The Secret of the Caves by Franklin W. Dixon (1929) Even though you can't beat the title of this book (The Secret of the Caves!), it's not a very good Hardy Boy mystery. It's probably my least favorite of the ones I've read lately. It's written by Leslie McFarlane, the original Hardy Boys author, but remember, he was just cranking these out (and other series books) for a meager paycheck. The writing is pretty flaccid, especially the adventure segments, which is what most of the book is... one rescue after another, that includes the sea, cliffs, and caves. Not enough mystery and too much danger, for me. Either of the Hardys could have been killed three or four times—really, the series should have been over after seven books, ending with friends putting flowers on their graves. There's the usual storm that comes up suddenly, at least (my favorite story element), and there are some pretty good descriptions of these mind-numbingly vast caves. What is kind of weird is the last book (The Shore Road Mystery) also took place at the caves, and one of criminals in that story has escaped from jail. The Hardys re-capture him (a guy named Carl Schaum!) only because they happen upon him while he's drunk and passed out on the beach! That's just a side plot, but the main story is similarly only solved due to coincidence. There's just not enough food, not enough hijinks, and most of all, not enough weirdness to make this a memorable Hardy Boys adventure. The good thing is that the next book, The Mystery of Cabin Island, is one the best, if not the best.

The Invisible Chimes

The Invisible Chimes by Margaret Sutton (1932) This is Number 3 in the series of Judy Bolton Mysteries, and I have to say, more than a lot of series books, it pays to read these in order. You could get to the bottom of this one, I guess, but to understand the resolution of the mystery with any depth, you really need to have read the previous book, if not the first two. Which is okay, and kind of great in a way. Also, it would be terrible of me to give away pretty much any of this story to anyone who might read it. I highly recommend Judy Bolton—there's a whole world here, and quite a bit different than her contemporaries Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys. The one thing I will say is that it's a pretty serious story, even a little heavy, but not unpleasantly so—you just need to invest in it a little. It's almost not a kid's book, unless kids were smarter in the Thirties than adults are now—which may very well be the case. Not that there isn't a lot of fun stuff, and some nice old book details, like near the end, someone is going to make Floating Island Pudding, which I've never heard of. Of course, one can find a recipe on the internet, but I want to find a restaurant that has it, or a person who's made it. Like, does the term “floating island” even make any sense? I searched for that, images, and it was like looking at the (actual) X-files—scary, watch out—rabbit-hole to another dimension—there's a signpost up ahead—one that says: “Floating Island / 2 Miles”—and I'm sorry, but it scares me a lot more than a Treacle Tart.

Elroy Nights

Elroy Nights by Frederick Barthelme (2003) I kind of ignored Frederick Barthelme because I got him mixed up with Donald Barthelme (his brother) and John Barth (dumb of me) and Barth Hudson (just kidding), but then I read something David Shields wrote about him and it made me think I'd like his books. Then I also read that he was in the Red Crayola (a band from the early Eighties; I had one of their records—it was great—I wish I still had it). He has published a lot of novels, so somehow I picked this one—it's about an art professor in or near Biloxi, Mississippi, separated from his wife, who gets involved with a student. We're in a point in time where pretty much all women are going to roll their eyes at this summary, and most men will express disapproval. But what can I say, we are attracted to youth. As an officially “older” person, I have to accept that, I'm forced to, and it's best to not take it personally—I mean the perception of me as old. A story about an old guy who's attracted to a young woman can be okay, even quite compelling, if it's handled in an interesting way, and for me, this was. Frederick Barthelme is considered a minimalist, I guess—all I know is, after reading this, I like his writing. It's effortless to read and feels like it was effortless to write, though it probably wasn't. Among the wide world of novelistic stories, people probably consider this one as a story in which nothing happens, but for me (and I guess I'm kind of extreme as far as my personal story preferences go), far too much happened. I would have been cool with much less. I could read endless novels about breakfast at Waffle House and little else. I might add that the dialogue was almost painfully naturalistic—I don't know if I've read anything where I was more convinced by the dialogue. So much so that I think it made me yearn for stylized, unnatural dialogue. All this sounds like criticism, and maybe it is, but I loved this book, and I intend to read more by him.

The Red Notebook

The Red Notebook by Paul Auster (2002) This was a case of my spotting this thin paperback on the floor of a bookstore, buying it impulsively, and reading it right away—I'd not heard of this book, don't usually read short stories, and I wasn't looking to read anything by Paul Auster, though I've liked his books in the past. I guess this is a collection of previously published stories, put together here because of the theme of coincidence—which is one of my favorite subjects—I'm fascinated with the question. Is everything connected? I think it is, but whether that happens externally, with a grand structure, or if it's about us, and our perceptions—that's the question. I'm inclined to believe that there is no perception of the world without memory, and there is no memory without narrative, so it is us—but that doesn't, thankfully, explain everything. One might ask, about this book, is it actually “True Stories” (as it's subtitled) or is it fiction?—I don't ask that. I believe it to be both, at the same time. What I ask is, why is this writing so compelling? Everyone has these stories, so you'd think everyone could write this book. But try it. That's all I do, pretty much, is try it. Mostly you come up with a mass of words that are flatter than a pancake, and not nearly as tasty. Syrup just makes it worse. I've always found Paul Auster's voice to be both alien and like my best friend, at the same time, and I have no idea why. I suppose he's the old-fashioned magician, but a good one—he can be corny, but you can't figure out what he's doing, or why you love it so much, but you do—or I do anyway. I'll probably read this again sometime, if I don't loan it out to someone.

The Secret at Lone Tree Cottage

The Secret at Lone Tree Cottage by Carolyn Keene (1934) This is a Dana Girls Mystery, the first one I've ever read, and the second of the series. Carolyn Keene is the pen name attributed to the Nancy Drew series, of course, though there were ultimately many actual authors for that series as well as this one. According to Jennifer White, whose excellent Series Books for Girls website I refer to often, this title was actually written by Leslie McFarlane, who wrote the first many, and best, Hardy Boys titles. Unfortunately, of all the old series books I've read recently, I like this one the least, so I don't think I'll pursue or peruse more Dana Girls. I'm a slow reader and want to read more Judy Bolton and Connie Blair (my two recent favorites) and also check out other odd series books, and there are a lot out there. Not that this one was terrible—I enjoyed it—I just felt like it was a bit tedious, could have been much shorter, and the the two Dana sisters, Jean and Louise, didn't come to life for me enough that I could even remember which one was which. There were some interesting things, like this old guy character who complains about everything, and everyone tiptoes around, fearing his wrath and for his health. It's a great portrait of that type of patriarchal tyrant, so familiar and too prominent in most people's lives. Also, the bad guy was pretty slippery, even to the point of being disguised as a woman, which struck me as particularly fun and creepy, and likely a Leslie McFarlane touch, as his original Hardy Boys texts are full of odd and sometimes mildly disturbing details that make them worth rereading.