The Roseledge Books Blog

This is a glorious day, even though the webcam still shows its nighttime image.  As soon as Charlie is likely not sleeping in Seattle, I’ll fix it.  Until then, know that the sun is almost too hot, the  lawn chair cushions have finally dried out, a big sailboat was at a rented mooring within webcam view, and walkers by are out in force.  High summer is nigh.

I love high summer. I love low summer. Either is better with you.

“What are you reading?” you ask.  Well, one of you asked.  Mostly, I’ve been reading about books because big-order time is here.  This means I’ve noticed and ordered Paul Doiron’s The Poacher’s Son because his newest one in the series, The Trespasser, just came out in hard cover so the earlier one is out in paperback.  This is very good news because he comes well-blurbed (Julia Spencer-Fleming, likened to C.J. Box) knows Maine (is a licensed Maine Guide and editor of Down East Magazine) and, maybe most importantly, has kayaked to TH within full view of RB, though he failed to mention it in the article about his kayaking from inn to inn adventure that appeared in the old Travel Section of the NYT. Oops.  The kayaker in question was Wayne Curtis, but I’ll bet Paul Doiron could have done it and wouldn’t have nmissed Roseledge Books.  My  apologies to Mr. Doiron

Also Tomi Ungerer’s book, Far Out Isn’t Far Enough, about his time as a pig farmer in Nova Scotia, has been re-issued — but only in hard cover!  This makes me crazy because RB had it years ago in paperback.  RB may have to think about having ONE hard cover offering, even with no insulation, because this is  a multi-faceted joy,  a change-of-life adventure that is fun to read and to look at, almost a picture book with his many gorgeous illustrations of daily living.

Otherwise, I’m reading and liking a lot Typhoon by Charles Cumming.  It is set in China, which is good because I know too little about China.  This, too, was the paperback available when I read about author Cumming’s newest (in hard cover), The Trinity Six, which I will have for sure when it comes out in paperback.  It is a spy thriller and an archival search novel, both of which are big plusses.  Typhoon’s William Lasker apparently does not  appear in this one,  so a spot on the Series shelf is out, but there is always other room for an engaging spy novel, which this is.

By the by, if you or any of yours have reason to be at the U of Minnesota next year, have I got a nifty house for you to rent. It is filled with forty years of mostly good times and some furniture.  For pictures plus, see www.roseledgebooks.com/mplsrental

Roseledge Books is open. Dry porch chairs and I are waiting. Where are you?

With you, o webcam, I am practically one with Tenants Harbor.

The harbor is alive — with 10 second refreshes — on the webcam. And the harbor is very big — with a click on the picture –on the webcam . Note especially that the neighbor’s tree with “too-big, right-sided branchitis” has been cut back and another neighbor’s wharf is more visible. Note to the RB visitor who complained that he could not see his boat on the left, take another look. The euonymus is gone, so the handsome rock wall on the right is more visible. As always, there are a few changes, but mostly, things stay the same. Perfect.

We made it, Charlie and I, just in time for a thunderstorm — virtually inside curtainless Roseledge. It’s been a wet, cool spring, so the greens are lush, the lilacs opening, and the forsythia still a promise. The snow in summer colors the granite rocks, the tide comes and goes no matter what, and the lobster boats are more discerning. Coffee on the front porch and all is right with the world.  But we just ran out of last year’s supply, kept supple in the freezer over winter, so Charlie is heading to the Produce Lady who opens Harborside Market at 5:30 a.m., thank heavens, and has started carrying and grinding Rock City Roasters; “midnight sun.”  Just so you know, the perfectly-sited East Wind Inn — immediately behind the last protrusion to the water-right of the webcam — is for sale.

It’s time to unbox books and hang the weathered “BOOKS” sign, but that shouldn’t stop you from coming. And any more rain in the forecast just means it’s reading time.  ROSELEDGE BOOKS is alive and well, if a bit slower. See you soon.

and Roseledge Books is an aggregation.  Who knew?   This news dawned as I read about Matt Drudge’s staying on top with his Drudge Report because “[h]e can look into a huge stream of news, find the hot story and put an irresistible headline on it….Everyone goes to [the Drudge Report] because, well, everyone else goes there.“ (David Carr’s column, “The Media Equation,” NYT 5/1/11) He is not just an aggregator, but a good AND “effective” aggregator. How is this relevant? you ask warily.

Aggregated aggrevator, what is the pattern? What is the cause?

Well, I choose specific books from a “huge stream” of published-in-paperback options, and then highlight them somehow so that you are drawn to that which catches your mind’s eye. Okay, having a shelf for unusual mystery series may not be as catchy as an oh-boy-headline, but the goal is similar. I don’t claim to be an aggregator with laudatory adjectives, but if you end up finding a book and reading something that somehow clears away a bit of the dust of the world, I just might. “Good” or “effective” work for me, especially if you come again to Roseledge Books.

And now for the really exciting news: IT’S THAT TIME AGAIN. Roseledge Books will open on Memorial Day, even if the boxes of winter are still unpacked. More important for some, the webcam will be picturing the harbor’s boats and the walkers of Sea Street on their way to the Tenants Harbor Memorial Day parade. At least I hope so. I can hardly wait.

Snow in summer and protruding green reframe the aggregated scene.

Now, midst packing layers for Maine’s ten-minute weather shifts and reinvigorating wireless service, plumbing, and wine and cheese supply, I have to decide what book to read en route. Lee Child said once that if he has only minutes to choose in the airport, he’ll pick up a David Baldacci. And there always seems to be at least one. I think I’ll settle for the latest Jack Reacher in paperback, Lee Child’s Worth Dying For. We were just discussing how Reacher might have prepared to capture Osama bin Laden. One doesn’t want to lose touch with what Reacher knows.

Few things in life are better than the morning paper, a cup of coffee, and a long look out the window, especially when the paper holds a RB treasure as it did last week: an almost hidden reference to Lincoln Kirstein anecdotes in a review (ST 4/18/11) by the local restaurant reviewer of Jacques d’Amboise’s I Was A Dancer which matters because a Roseledge Books neighbor has ties to Lincoln Kirstein. So RB will definitely have the book as soon as it is out in paperback and hope the neighbor waits.

Green and blue and forsythia, too; ideas hover. Where are you?

Morning browsers (clearly) are superior people. Their favored content and format may vary, but not the with-it-ness they almost certainly have. Some Washington aides browse for others (NYT 1/18/11) which insures the others’ up-to-dateness and the aides’ importance, but I always hate it when I can’t browse myself, as I couldn’t when library stacks were closed. So much learning goes on as the browser decides what to look at more closely and what to skip over. John Kennedy used to scan dozens of newspapers folded back to editorial pages. I can’t remember — if I ever knew — if the papers were arranged geographically, alphabetically, by subject or perspective, but what a good way for a pre-Internetter to stay in touch.

Paul Krugman writes of “systematically” reading mostly economic newspapers and blogs and no conservative sites because, as he explained to his readers who asked, he knew of none that “regularly provide analysis or information I need to take seriously.” (NYT 3/8/11) Charlie checks online sources –he won’t say which ones, even though I am his mother — but he is usually on top of things that matter. Surely RB readers are browsers. Now I have to figure out what they look at and what just-right book mentions might crop up.

If you don't remember this nifty new sign, you've been too long away.

Marilyn Stasio reviewed (NYTBR 4/24/11) the latest Clare Fergusson/Russ Van Alstyne adventure, (Julia Spencer-Fleming’s One Was A Soldier) so its available, but not to RB readers until the paperback arrives for summer 2012. I’m hoping the early eager readers who are also RB Regulars will have missed enough details to make a reread part of their next summer. Meanwhile, I’m thinking mightily and trickily to come up with a must read for them this summer.

Four weeks from now, RB will be open and waiting for you to come. I know the time is nigh when I’m watching the PBS show New Scandinavian Cooking almos nightly, more for the ocean views than the food. They use too much butter, but the scenery is spectacular. Reminds me of Tenants Harbor and environs.

Note from breakfast: surely someone eating a wedge of pink grapefruit is one of the least attractive sights possible, but oh my it’s good and accessible to those of us who struggle with the serrated spoons. Now I am hungry for a TH Schoolhouse Bakery cinnamon roll. See you soon.

Today, especially, I miss my old neighbors. Every St. Patrick’s Day the mostly Scandinavian-surnamed lot of them would “drop in” after work, sure of their Irish coffee and soda bread, to argue the important question: were the Irish here before the Vikings?

They were to bring new evidence, which sometimes had something to do with the question, and prepare for the “spirited” argument the Irish call conversation. With Tim Severin’s The Brendan Voyage and Yrsa Sigurdardottir’s Last Rituals, I consider the Irish reaching Iceland first settled, but their reaching points further south (even to Cape Cod?) iffier. My old neighbors may differ, but it’s hard to know how a CD of U2 at full volume or a reading of too many verses of a Yeats poem makes their point.  The priest acquaintance who suggested checking the Vatican tax records from the time was spot on.   What fun.

And now, as I read Steven Johnson’s Where Good Ideas Come From, I know what I was doing, always a good thing.  I was cultivating the “slow hunch” within a “liquid network“ of idea connectors and critics, both necessary characteristics of a good idea – which having the Irish on these shores before the Vikings clearly is. I love this book, and I am only on the third of, I think, seven factors.

Liquid networks of seaside friends may lead to best ideas ever.

With March temps in the 50’s promising spring but not soon enough, news of Tenants Harbor — well greater TH — is ever more welcome, as a Roseledge Books Founding Spirit understood when he forwarded this link.

Also local and noteworthy, the Herring Gut Learning Center newsletter (Herring Gut Learning Center’s News) is looking for suggested names, even as it announces and reports on new programs. Ann Boover’s work makes me think a Maine or even a coastal Maine equivalent of Leanne Shapton’s The Native Trees of Canada could be coming. Or maybe a local birds-with-drawings effort? The drawing of the flora in situ in Diane Smith’s Letters from Yellowstone is another possible book model and a good read no matter what.  Okay I’m a little lonesome for the gulls, et al.. I’m still working on book suggestions linked somehow to gardens for the proposed Herring Gut gardeners. How about the herbalist’s garden in Sarah Orne Jewett’s Country of the Pointed Firs? Scott thinks he knows where it was.  Other suggestions? And no, I am not sending in “Pickled” as a possible newsletter title, though it did come to mind.

I continue to experiment with knittings for porch events and varied temperatures. Roseledge Book Regulars may recall last year’s big woolly, the super sized, soft sweater with detached collar, warm enough for people with no neck to enjoy late fall’s last late nights. Now I am working on a shoulders only  “drop-on”, a not-scratchy, lightweight biggish collar, able to be dropped into place without getting up from my chair. So far, this third iteration looks good: not too big or loosely stitched (first try) and better pinned than knitted closed (second try). Time to see if the patio here will serve as a test location. I have found the perfect wine, surely named Kenwood for my new digs, and the chairs are in place.

David Baldacci’s latest paperback, Deliver Us From Evil, is keeping me company, but nothing beats seeing you all.

How do I go nuts? Let me count the ways.

1. Reading about plagiarists, most recently, the German Minister of Defense whose Ph.D. thesis he apparently plagiarized. This has hurt his credibility (yes!) which, in turn, may cost him the Chancellorship when Angela Merkel steps down, or so the NYT reports (3/2/11). He joins other unworthies who  cannot admit with an attribution that they built on the work of others and who do not understand how readily they will be found out. I don’t know which makes the plagiarist and his aiders and abettors the bigger dummies. He might want to read Steven Johnson’s Where Good Ideas Come From: The Natural History of Innovation (which I have just started and, so far, love) and figure out how to have an idea he might legitimately call his own.

2. Hearing Michele Bachmann and “facts” in the same sentence, or maybe just hearing Michele Bachmann. A political fact-rating blog noted (on early morning MPR in late January) that of 13 facts she reported, 7 were false and 6 were ridiculously false, or vice versa or maybe they were absurdly false. Double aarrgghh!! A re-look at Farhad Manjoo’s True Enough: Learning to Live in a Post Fact Society (which I thoroughly recommend) could not right her wrongs, but his explanations helped the blood pressure, especially the chapter on questionable expertise. Down with ninnyness.

Rant, rant.

Breezes blow, ideas flow, the tide is out but will be in. All's well.

But then I find a nifty author with whom to share a cup of coffee and the world tilts back to tolerable, even pleasant and worthwhile. Currently I am enjoying every bit of Maira Kalman’s adventures with democracy and how it works in her NYT-blog-turned book, And the Pursuit of Happiness. With her, I have ideas. When I have figured it out, I will let you know how she fits into Steven Johnson’s good idea generators.

I, with other seniors, am learning the ropes in my new winter digs.  Here someone walks off with the wrong walker instead of the wrong jacket. And plans to map the best cinnamon roll locations shift to oatmeal sites. I don’t believe our silverware is dulled, but it would explain why I have trouble piercing a grape with a fork. Morning coffee on the patio starts with the first tulip, which I hope really means with the first blossom. I am searching for a potted pasque flower or wild gentian  to sneak beneath the leafless bush when the walk  is bare and declare the patio coffee-ready. Hurry up, spring. If the ground weren’t so well and truly frozen, I would try to plant a magnolia bush, upon which the blossoms come before the leaves.

About ten weeks and counting.

Greetings from my less-new digs where today’s aerie (12th floor) view is one of soft fog resting on treetops and temperatures are so mild that the birds alit on the upper bush branches after eating their fill from Bob’s daily birdseed run.  It’s the season of needing ocean highlights (I watch golf and await Pebble Beach), and finding Roseledge Books connections almost everywhere.

For instance, I noticed that John C. Malone, sometimes part of the greater Roseledge Books neighborhood, is buying 980,000 acres of Maine timberland. This is quite exciting.  So just in case he wants a good read to be totally adventure-ready, RB, his neighborhood bookseller, is suggestion-ready.

The first  most apt suggestion is Bernd Heinrich’s The Snoring Bird. My Family’s Journey through a Century of Biology because the author is virtually one with the woods, any woods maybe, but mostly in his life, the Maine woods.  He lives in them, observes, studies, practically inhales them, and shares his woods-life with us. This is a great anticipation read; it gets you ready to see what is there.

Well, it's a tree for the occasion or a knees-down view of a decorous giant. See below for a better -- and the only other -- tree option. Otherwise, bushes rule.

Maybe equally apt, but more difficult to justify is Leanne Shapton’s rough-paper beauty, The Native Trees of Canada. Okay, the tree types are “of Canada,” but Maine timberlands abut Canada, and birds fly expansively and drop seedy dinners.  Also this book is a many-aspect upper for a dreary day.  So how about a tromp through the woods to identify which trees “of Canada” are “of Maine,” too? Then enjoy a winter fire with good books (from RB, of course) and find appreciations of the tree-types in the writings of the observant. (Ms. Shapton did this in her NYTBR back page essay, maybe October, 2010.)   Okay, I admitted it was a stretch, but this little treasure is too good to pass up.  Most recently, I took it with me to the yarn shop for color inspiration when getting ready to knit my next.

Top of my current pile of Roseledge Books possible is T.R. Reid’s Healing of America: Global Quest for Better, Cheaper, and Fairer Health Care, then Steven Johnson’s Where Good Ideas Come From: Natural History of Innovation (okay, I couldn’t wait and bought it in hardcover), Dan Brown’s The Lost Symbol, which I worry may be yet another iteration of Nicholas Cage’s hugely ho-hum National Treasure movies, and Lee Child’s 61 Hours, which I heard him say uses only the cold, not the terrain, of South Dakota as a story element.  I am always ready for Jack Reacher, but cold-only SoDak may make this adventure less interesting than usual because I know Dakota cold well from a childhood of frolicking n the (clearly) harsher North Dakota version.

Amazingly, Lee Child gives me a segue into mentioning my latest must read: Richard Thompson’s Big Wheat: A Tale of Bindlestiffs and Blood. Don’t get too excited, but it is a murder mystery that takes place in 1919 in North Dakota.

More later.

Well, whew! I almost didn’t find the perfect Christmas gift book for Charlie, but then I did. Close, though. Thank you Dwight Garner (NYT 12/22/10) for reviewing Radioactive: Marie & Pierre Curie: A Tale of Love and Fallout by Lauren Redniss. It is, he says, both good biography and science and interesting art and text. Sounds perfect. And when I finally see it, I’ll let you know if the review clues were propitious.

I am wintering in Minnesota, as I do, which is okay because it is beautiful and filled with afternoons when reading about and for summer at Rseledge Books is all that it is wise to do. We are currently figuring out where to put December’s record snowfall, but I am above this fray, literally, as I moved into a 12th floor apartment which asks ever fewer steps of me as I move ever more slowly. One of these days, with help, I will figure out why my body is crumpling in on me. Until then, I will adapt — still or again — and get ready for summer in Maine.

Remember?

Meanwhile, I have a nifty house to rent. So if you or someone you know need a place near everything that matters with at least 40 of its 90 years filled with good times and good neighbors, check the web site Charlie created. (http://roseledgebooks.com/MplsRental/) The house is an easy walk to work for the U of Minnesota’s new football coaches, hint hint, and an easy cross-country ski, bus, or bicycle ride to downtown Minneapolis with a river walk on the way for other with-it folks.

My latest favorite read, Elyssa East’s Dogtown: Death and Enchantment in a New England Ghost Town, is about a place, which I love, and handsomely researched, with ties to Marsden Hartley, another favorite subject, and therefore Maine, but with unexpected ties to Tenants Harbor friend Scott, who shares the surname — and maybe the family history — of the main suspect in a local mystery. So it’s a joy and a must for Roseledge Books next summer.

Reading Dogtown brings to mind the librarian of the Vatican Library who spoke of entering the mystery of culture, of humanism, of scholarship, even the mystery of truth, through the texts [in the Library] which are pieces, fragments of the truth. ( NYer, 1/3/11, p.30) In this spirit I would add that reading contributes to the mystery of knowing as the reader tests, verifies, corrects, extends, expands a known subject, leaps to a different possibility, or explores a new idea altogether. And while I am not comparing RB to the Vatican Library (God forbid!), I am suggesting that they share the purpose of providing texts for those of a mind from which to know more. Dogtown, with its expected and unexpected connections, did that for me.

I will be better about posting. Happy New Year, you all.

It’s high summer in Tenants Harbor. Dinghies are tooling about, bicyclers are lined up at the Happy Clam’s ice cream  window, and RB has been declared an event and a destination, even though our wine on the porch was for their EYES only. Tom Gjelten’s Bacardi is the second bestseller of the summer (3 copies sold), Woody Holton’s Abigail Adams practically flew off the shelf and a shrewd reader spotted Anna Pavord’s Tulip: The Story of the Flower that has Made Men Mad with it’s possible likenesses to our recent Wall Street fiasco.

Where are you all? People who only knew about RB from the blog stopped by, so having never been here is no excuse. And, based on conversations from last summer, I’m figuring out what themes I have five books about so you can stop in before you pick up the key to your cottage, choose themed treasures, then read yourself through a most memorable  vacation ever.  How about, for example, the Amazon and Mexico (I need Arturo Perez Reverte’s Queen of the South to make the five) or Henry Knox with a side trip to Montpelier or WW II fiction or murder mysteries around the world (I even have one set in North Korea) or, or, or. The fun is figuring out what (at least) five books will make you relish even more your time here and stop by for a withdrawal read for the flight home. (“Thin, light-weight paper,” they requested, and chose Dava Sobel’s Longitude and Roy Hoxham’s Great Hedge of India.)

Figure #90. Remember?

But there was a Fall nip in the early morning air last Saturday, and though it made the coffee and just-picked blueberries taste even better, it seemed early. I don’t know if a neighbor’s warning that “the Caribbeans are coming” referred to a type of boat, their home moorings, or something else entirely, but I do know that a whole batch of boat folks stopped by RB even before they saw the sign on the tree because they were moored afront the TH Boat Yard which is near but hidden behind the trees across the road and RB was the first stoppable place on their way down Sea Street. Here’s to many more Boat Yard barbecues.

I loved Harry Dolan’s Bad Things Happen and am 200 pages into my coveted (British paperback) copy of Stieg Larsson’s The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest. The poplar is whispering. Times are good.

Fig. #91. "Or is this what you remember?