I don't normally booklog, but I have been spending a lot of time in baths with books lately. It looks like mysteries are a popular choice.
I don't think I read anything in the ER last Friday. I wasn't carrying a book.
Last weekend in the bath, I read Mary Stewart's Wildfire at Midnight (1956), Dick Francis' Slay Ride (1973), and re-read Margery Allingham's The Mind Readers (1965) and My Friend Mr Campion and Other Mysteries (2011).
This Friday in the ER, I read Anya von Bremzen's Mastering the Art of Soviet Cooking: A Memoir of Food and Longing (2013), Boris and Arkady Strugatsky's The Dead Mountaineer's Inn (1970, trans. Josh Billings 2015), and re-read Boyd McDonald's Cruising the Movies: A Sexual Guide to Oldies on TV (1985).
This weekend in the bath, I have been re-reading Elizabeth Peters for the first time since high school and college: Crocodile on the Sandbank (1971), The Curse of the Pharaohs (1981), The Deeds of the Disturber (1988), and The Last Camel Died at Noon (1991). Most of my mother's Amelia Peabody mysteries are in boxes at the moment; I'll have to get the rest out of a library. I remember being fond of The Hippopotamus Pool (1996). My favorite character remains Kevin O'Connell, the semi-reputable reporter. I view Amelia as a much more unreliable narrator these days.
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strange_selkie, it looks to me like burrito-wrapped Achilles is grieving the death of Patroklos; Thetis has just shown up with his new armor. Any second now he will un-burrito and go kill a lot of Trojans, not yet realizing that killing people does not console the loss of a loved one. [edit] My Brandeis advisor Leonard Muellner has an article on vase paintings of grieving Achilles! Take note of the concept of "multiform representation." We want a single canonical Iliad, the one true text from which all other versions depart; the epic tradition is a polyphony. We got the one we got, but it was just one.
I don't think I read anything in the ER last Friday. I wasn't carrying a book.
Last weekend in the bath, I read Mary Stewart's Wildfire at Midnight (1956), Dick Francis' Slay Ride (1973), and re-read Margery Allingham's The Mind Readers (1965) and My Friend Mr Campion and Other Mysteries (2011).
This Friday in the ER, I read Anya von Bremzen's Mastering the Art of Soviet Cooking: A Memoir of Food and Longing (2013), Boris and Arkady Strugatsky's The Dead Mountaineer's Inn (1970, trans. Josh Billings 2015), and re-read Boyd McDonald's Cruising the Movies: A Sexual Guide to Oldies on TV (1985).
This weekend in the bath, I have been re-reading Elizabeth Peters for the first time since high school and college: Crocodile on the Sandbank (1971), The Curse of the Pharaohs (1981), The Deeds of the Disturber (1988), and The Last Camel Died at Noon (1991). Most of my mother's Amelia Peabody mysteries are in boxes at the moment; I'll have to get the rest out of a library. I remember being fond of The Hippopotamus Pool (1996). My favorite character remains Kevin O'Connell, the semi-reputable reporter. I view Amelia as a much more unreliable narrator these days.
P.S.
strange_selkie, it looks to me like burrito-wrapped Achilles is grieving the death of Patroklos; Thetis has just shown up with his new armor. Any second now he will un-burrito and go kill a lot of Trojans, not yet realizing that killing people does not console the loss of a loved one. [edit] My Brandeis advisor Leonard Muellner has an article on vase paintings of grieving Achilles! Take note of the concept of "multiform representation." We want a single canonical Iliad, the one true text from which all other versions depart; the epic tradition is a polyphony. We got the one we got, but it was just one.
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