AfricanKelli

I’m doing something very uncharacteristic: I’m reading more than one book. I started, “Michaelangelo and the Pope’s Ceiling” last month and am enjoying it. But it is detailed. And archaic. And nonfiction. And dry. Rather than give up, I just put it down for a bit and started reading, “Million Little Pieces.” With all the hype and controversy, it is still a good read. It angers me that I became attached to portions of the book that are bit fat lies, but if you consider it fiction from the start, it is an interesting read. James Frey’s lack of punctuation and random capitalization of words, on the other hand, is enough to make me go batty. I am sure that another of my new favorite authors, Lynne Truss of “Eats, Shoots and Leaves” fame, would just hurl it across the room.

I wouldn’t purchase Frey’s book on prinicple. But I did enjoy it. So, how’s that for contradiction?

I’m now reading, “Tipping Point,” and finding it fascinating. I’m trying to read more nonfiction, and have read countless reviews about the practical applicability of this book. Plus, Finny read and loved it, so there’s that too. She heard the author, Malcolm Gladwell, speak recently and says he is witty and weird. I’m only a few pages in, but so far, so good. It is about how social movements — whether they be based in fashion, economics, disease, etc… — gain momentum. I’m currently reading about the epidemic curve of disease, something I’m all too familiar with working in public health.

I also purchased, “Night,” — the latest Oprah Book. As much as I try to swear off these books, I just can’t do it. I like that they come with conversation. You read them, tons of other people are reading them, and there is always someone to discuss the story with. There are ladies at my gym reading “Night,” and I know that if nothing else, I can go on the Oprah website and read viewer’s comments about the book. I enjoy discussing a book nearly as much as I do reading it.

Also on my nightstand at the moment are the March issue of Martha. The garden issue is not so great for a girl living in the land of drought. I’ve got the March issues of Shape, Prevention and the newest Coach catalog too. If lovely new purses with embroidered flowers don’t say, “sweet dreams,” I’m not sure what will.

~K

I’ve been on a reading kick as of late. I completed, “Eats, Shoots and Leaves,” and loved it. Nothing like a great book on punctuation to make you feel like a wordie dork. I’ve got her latest book about manners on my wish list.

Then there was “Cry, the Beloved Country.” Oy, that Oprah. She gets me every time with her book selections. I know better, too. I complain regularly that all of her books end up with a woman angry and resentful. Well, this time she proved me wrong. This book, written by Alan Patton, is about South Africa before the apartheid. The writing is unconventional and lyrical. He has his own style that is infectious. (Reading my journal entries from the last week, I’ve noticed I’ve copied some of his word choice and punctuation habits. Strange, eh?)

A few of my favorite excerpts:

“I say we shall always have native crime to fear until the native people of this country have worthy purposes to inspire them and worthy goals to work for. For it is only because they see neither purpose nor goal that they turn to drink and crime and prostitution. Which do we prefer, a law-abiding, industrious and purposeful native people, or a lawless, idle and purposeless people? The truth is that we do not know, and for we fear them both. As so long as we vacillate, so long will we pay dearly for the dubious pleasure of not having to make up our minds. And the answer does not lie, except temporarily, in more police and more protection.”

And…

“Cry, the beloved country, for the unborn child that is the inheritor of our fear. Let him not love the earth too deeply. Let him not laugh too gladly when the water runs through his fingers, nor stand too silent when the setting sun makes red the veld with fire. Let him not be too moved when the birds of his land are singing, nor give too much of his heard to a mountain or valley. For fear will rob him of all if he gives too much.”

Five out of five bananas, obviously.

Currently reading: “Tuesday’s With Morrie.”

Currently knitting: A Sophie bag in purple Lamb’s Pride bulky with a Noro extra strand for my mama

Currently considering: Where to start on the house repair list of 2006

Currently gardening: Aloe vera. Blah. My garden needs attention. Look at Finny’s. The girl’s got two green thumbs.

Currently baking: A new cake each month for my coworkers. I’m considering something light in January, like angel food.

Currently listening too: The new Fiona Apple CD and loving it

Currently sewing: Two Amy Butler nappy bags for baby shower gifts

Currently loving: Baked sweet potatoes for dinner, bagels for breakfast and chilled white wine on the couch after work, weather that lets me wear flip flops year round.

~K

I won’t lie. I spent a ridiculous amount of time this weekend shopping, crafting, wrapping and singing “Jingle Bells.” I am 100% in the spirit. It was quite nice yesterday to haul my giant box of homemade goodies outside into the sun for a little photo shoot. I placed them carefully on the green grass and took a portrait of each item. I hope to later display these once they’ve all been received and opened. I’m getting better about keeping secrets/surprises in my old age.

I can show you this, however, because I’m pretty sure my 4-year-old Salvation Army angel kid doesn’t read my blog. And if he does, my Lord is he bored. This is a SpongeBob-free zone.

I figured out a few of the embroidery features on my sewing machine and went to town. Then I went to Target and stocked this baby full of candy — did you know they still make Pop Rocks? Feeling a tad guilty I was contributing to childhood obesity, he also got a toothbrush (Curious George, so cute!), toothpaste and art supplies.

I can’t imagine what happened in this boy’s life that has qualified him for an angel, but I hope next year his name isn’t on the tree and his parent’s have had better luck.

***

Did you see the NYT has published their top 100 books of the year list? Can I sadly tell you I’ve read only two of 100. Oy. And one of them was terrible (Prep). Freakonomics, however, was enjoyable. I’ve just finished reading A Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time and The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. While searching for something new to read — I’ve finally gotten around to Saffron Skies, a book a girlfriend lent me — I realized my books were in serious need of sorting and purging. More than 100 were taken to Goodwill for some redistribution in society. A few others ended up at the used bookstore, where of course, I bought more books.

Internet, let me tell you, I do not need another book for the rest of my life. I have hundreds and 99% of them are currently collecting dust. Gah!

Happy holiday preparations and reading to all,

K

This is a lame attempt to cheer Panda up, who is having a particularly bad day. Look! I’m answering your tag.

Number of Books you have owned:

Well, I have a current Excel list of my library. I told you I was anally retentive. I’d say 1,000+. Granted, I was born into my own Nancy Drew collection that were gathered during my pregnancy by one very excited soon-to-be mother. And I learned from Min that the best books are those you pass on to others to share. There is no use in keeping it on your shelf (unless you reference it often, and I do have a small collection of these) when you could give the story to someone else.

Last book I bought:  

Last Minute Knitted Gifts. So good.

Last book I completed:

Dogs of
Babel. I enjoyed it, but know my mom will love it because she is a dog lover. It is in her growing stacks of “books given to me by Kelli that I will start to read in 10 years when I’ve retired.” I tease her she never reads. In all fairness, she does read and loves to do so, but prefers to spend her time at the sewing machine. Without a doubt, I got my love of reading from my parents.

Five books that mean a lot to me:

It might be easier to ask me what 50 books mean a lot to me. I either love or hate a story. Rarely do my emotions fall in between when it comes to books.

– The Message Bible: Given to me by the Slackman’s, this Bible essentially holds your hand through the difficult verses, providing the verses in everyday, understandable English.

– The Power of One: Given to me by a friend and enjoyed during a particularly difficult time of life. I have passed it on to others since.

– The Fountainhead: Again, given to me by a friend. I think of Howard and Dominique often. That Ayn Rand was one amazing author.

– The Poisonwood Bible: I read this the month before I left for Africa and simply love the story. It started my insatiable passion for all things Barbara Kingsolver. Love her.

– One Hundred Years of Solitude/The Alchemist/Truth and Beauty: See, I told you I couldn’t pick just five! I’m pathetic! I’m telling you, these three books are my favorites to give as gifts. They are difficult to read (Garcia Marquez) and incredibly easy to love (Ann Patchett). These are my favorite stories from these authors, but their other works are equally exceptional.

If we are talking cookbooks, I recommend The Cake Doctor and regularly gift it as a gift. Everything starts with a cake mix and ends up absolutely delicious.

If we are talking craft books, I have to go with the standard, Knitting Pretty, which is easy, well photographed and helpful.

If we are talking gardening, the Garden Guy makes living in Arizona and tending to plants somewhat tolerable.

What are you currently reading?

I am reading, The Bonesetter’s Daughter by Amy Tan. I really enjoy her writing. Rarely do you find an author who throws you in the deep end of a cultural pool and thinks to send out a raft to help you along the way.

What books would you like to have?

[Okay, so maybe this wasn't part of the original questionaire, but why not share?]

Um, I like these. A lot.

Happy reading,

AK

This is
Carolyn Parkhurst’s first novel and I loved it.

Four out of five bananas.

It isn’t life altering. It isn’t deep. But it is fun, lighthearted and creative.

A man’s wife dies mysteriously, so he turns his energy toward getting the one witness to her death to provide any details possible. That witness is Lorelei, the family’s Rhodesian Ridgeback. The man is a linguistics professor who turns his work into getting the dog to speak. It is a funny, sweet and sad story about the mourning for his wife and the love for their pet.

Here Parkhurst aptly describes fighting depression:

“You don’t want to get out of bed, but you don’t want to to run into that cliché, you know danger lies that way. So you get up and you try to find pleasure in the little things, the first cup of coffee in a mug you like, the mint-burst in your mouth when you brush your teeth, but you can tell you’re trying too hard. You have breakfast with your husband, your sweet unknowing husband, who can’t see anything but the promise of a bright new day. And you say your apologies — you’re sorry, you’re always sorry, it’s a feeling as familiar as the taste of water on your tongue — and you kiss him on the lips as he walks out the door, and he’s gone.”

I think dog lovers in particular would enjoy this read.

I finished this book this weekend and it wasn’t as great as I’d previously predicted. The story is interesting, but I was exhausted by the end. It was so funny and so well written at the beginning, but then tapers off into a melodrama about the Holocaust and ends up a total bummer.

Nonetheless, it gets three out of five bananas. The quirky Ukrainian translator sold me. I just love this character.

A favorite exerpt that I think is particularly on the mark:

“… This is what living in a waterfall is like. Every widow wakes one morning, perhaps after years of pure and unwavering grieving, to realize she slept a good night’s sleep, and will be able to eat breakfast, and doesn’t hear her husband’s ghost all the time, but only some of the time. Her grief is replaced with a useful sadness. Every parent who loses a child finds a way to laugh again. The timbre begins to fade. The edge dulls. The hurt lessens. Every love is carved from loss. Mine was. Yours is. Your great-great-great-grandchildren’s will be. but we learn to live in that love.”

I’m now engrossed in a tale about a man trying to teach his dog to talk. It is very amusing and lighthearted.

Thankfully, the Nicaraguan mechanic worked muy bien y aqui estoy. I made it home safe and sound late last night and even mustered the energy for an ass-kicking 92 degree run this morning. My routine has returned. Yay!

One of the many not-so-productive things I’ve accomplished in the last month is the completion for four novels. I know! Can you believe it? Well, that’s what ample time will do to you. I finished, “The Lovely Bones,” which was indeed lovely. I enjoyed the character’s perspective of heaven. She described it as such a personal space and I like the idea of being able to watch over my family one day. Three out of five bananas.

Then came an Oprah book, which I swear I will never do again, and then invariably end up reading yet another one of these sappy tales. I love Opie, but for the love of all things literary, she knows how to pick novels that make me a little weepy. Okay, a lot weepy. “Midwives,” made me actually consider having a midwife someday or even become a midwife. I loved the details the author included and the scenery. I’ve never been to
Vermont, but this book makes me want to give it a whirl. Four out of five bananas. Bravo!

Then came “Everything Is Illuminated” by Jonathan Safran Foer. Foer is this young and hot upcoming author the New York Times fawns over regularly. When I found this book on the Book Boat for just $1 (or a handful of meticals, at the time), I was thrilled! I’d been wanting to read his book for quite some time and here it was! So cheap! So perfect! And in big print. Yay! The book was nothing what I expected, but was entertaining and I read it quickly. When it was all said and done, however, I couldn’t help but wonder why Foer has been labeled this great “Jewish author” of Generation X. The book had absolutely nothing to do with Judaism. Then I read the acknowledgement page and became completely lost. It was written by a literary agent who was mourning the death of the book’s author, Willie. She said how much she’d miss him and how proud she was of “Taps” and she was thankful the book had been published as Willie’s last.

What?

Then I pulled the cover off of my $1 Book Boat find only to discover, yes you guessed it, it was not “Everything is Illuminated,” but some other book with the wrong cover! Some book called “Taps!” (Which, by the way, this title is much more fitting.) I laughed at my error and shook my head. Oy. Next time, review the cover page before buying discount books. “Taps” gets three out of five bananas.

I was disappointed I hadn’t yet read Foer, after reading such hype. I found a lone remaining copy of the actual “E is I” in Houston and scooped that sucker up. I’m 60 pages in, it has a LOT to do with Judaism and I am loving it. He really is creative and funny and worth the hype. So far, anyway.

The other book I read was “The Millionaire Next Door,” loaned to me from The Amazing Zippered Woman. I give this read one banana out of five. Let me sum up the book in one sentence: their financial advice is to be cheap and save your cash. Don’t splurge on nice clothing, watches, cars or homes. Live cheap and then you can retire early and budget for the rest of your life.

This is not my plan. I like to save and am getting better at it, but I work to have fun, not to spend my Saturday morning cutting coupons.  I got mostly through “MillionsSaved” also. Not a financial planning book, but one on how to plan great health programs; One for any public health cronies out there. It is an excellent read about programs that have worked well in the last 50 years, including the eradication of small pox.

Today I’m off to find the latest issue of Elle magazine, which has a smoking hot photo of Jessica Simpson on the cover. I’m getting my hair cut like hers in this shot. It is a great bob with a thick bang. Love it!

Cheers,

Kelli

Journalism was a perfect fit for me in college. I got to put all of my Type A energies into memorizing tables of AP Style guideline words. Even though most newspapers are written at an 8^th grade comprehension level, many Americans have poor word selection and spelling skills. This is only getting worse as our skills are dampened with word processing programs that automatically correct our errors.

These word lists gave me something new to obsess over when I wasn’t obsessing over the cleanliness of my dorm room or the homework due the following month. Pathetic and neurotic all at the same time. Let’s accept this and move on.

Here are a few of the rules that stuck and I continue to follow today. These annoy me to no end when I see them in print.

• Accept, when you mean except (and vice versa*)
• Affect, when you mean effect  (*)
• Backwards, afterwards, etc… This may be spoken slang, but it is written without the final “s.” Correct: backward, afterward
• Seperate. Correct: Separate
• John Hopkins. Correct: Johns
  Hopkins
• Over, when you mean during. Over the weekend vs. During the weekend. Over should only be used as a directional reference.
• Over, when you mean more than. Over 500 people attended the party. Correct: More than 500 people attended the event. See above for correct use of “over.”
• Hold an event, when you mean arrange/host/organize an event. You cannot literally “hold” an event.

I’m not a spelling Nazi. I know that there is creativity in word use and language is a fluid art. But everyone has a pet peeve and poor spelling/word usage happens to be one of mine. I have several book smart girlfriends who I imagine could add to this list without much thought.

I enjoyed this column in the NYT today about the overuse of certain words and how all new books are somehow “acclaimed” and “brilliant.” So true. I particularly like the discussion about how even boring books can be transformed into being ”well researched,” and “thoughtful.”

~AfricanKelli

P.S. Cancelled/Canceled. I have seen both. Can’t the erudites vocab mavens make up their minds?

“The Power of One” by Bryce Courtenay is one of those books you finish and then continue to think about for days. You feel like the characters are your friends; you’ve created detailed mental pictures of their homes, schools and lives. I am a believer in literary serendipity and this couldn’t have come at a better time in my life.

In short, it is the story of a young South African boy named Peekay. He strives to be the very best he can be every single day. In many ways, he reminds me of Howard Roark. The book takes place in
South Africa during and after World War II, when many of the German henchmen were able to hide away in the shadows of the dark continent.

The story discusses boxing, gambling, mining and the intricate relationships of men – brothers, father & son, friends, etc… It is a lovely and lengthy novel, and is in definite contention for best book of the year.

Five out of Five bananas, absoloodle!

“In my experience, the glittering prizes in life come more to those who persevere despite setback and disappointment than they do to the exceptionally gifted who, with the confidence of the talents bestowed upon them, often pursue the tasks leading to success with less determination.” P. 373

“The music of Africa is too wild, too free, too accustomed to death for romance. Africa is too crude a stage for the small scratching of the violin, too majestic for the piano. Africa is only right for the drums. The drum carries its rhythm but does not steal its music. Timpani is the background, the music of Africa is in the voices of the people. They are its instruments, more subtle, more beautiful, infinitely more noble than the scratching, thumping, banging, and blowing of brass and wind and vellum, strings and keyboard.”  P. 388

“The power of one is above all things the power to believe in yourself, often well beyond any latent ability you may have previously demonstrated. The mind is the athlete; the body is simply the means it uses to run faster or longer, jump higher, shoot straighter, kick better, swim harder, hit further, or box better. Hoppie’s dictum to me, ‘First with the head and then with the heart,’ was more than simply mixing brains with guts. It meant thinking well beyond the powers of normal concentration and then daring your courage to follow your thoughts.”   P. 423

I’m eager to find its sequel, “Tandia,” and read more of Courtenay’s work.

~Africankelli

My love of reading started with Amelia Bedelia, progressed to Nancy Drew and peaked with the Price daughters of “The Poisonwood Bible.” I remember the first time I heard of Barbara Kingsolver. A childhood friend said “Animal Dreams” was her favorite read of all time; she’d read it for a class at NAU and rarely had such praise for anything, much less a book. I had little time for pleasure reading in college, but managed to find a used copy of the novel. I stashed it with others and ended up reading it months after graduation, in a stuffy humid Cameroonian café, sipping warm Coca Cola out of questionably clean green glass bottles. I’d wait for the seasonal rains to temporarily stop to rush outside and use the latrine. Then I’d find my place on the uncomfortable couch and start again, reading page after page, day after day. I was only interrupted when people would come into and want to visit with the odd American girl. I was supposed to be working, but little farming gets done in the rainy season.

There is a scene in “Animal Dreams” when the main character is describing losing a baby. She miscarries and suffers an anguish I could somehow understand. There was a piece of me at the time that knew it was a feeling only women could understand. An emptiness where there was once life. An unfair guilt and a fair sorrow that would never be forgotten entirely. I tried reading and explaining the passage to my best friend Todd – a Missourian with a love for African beer and the St. Louis Cardinals. He too detested farming in the rain. We made a great pair. He politely listened, but said he couldn’t understand why I was crying. Would an Amstel Light fix it?  Eventually, he wrapped his arms around me and let me sob into his windbreaker until we could walk home in the mud and drizzle.

In the “The Poisonwood Bible,” I vividly remember the scene when the mother realizes her children have essentially forgotten their previous life in America. The youngest can no longer describe the colors on a mayonnaise jar – something she’d desperately missed when they first arrived in the jungle. They have lived long enough in the Congo that her children are becoming African. Her husband has become a raving lunatic and she cannot handle the thought of losing her children too. She takes to her bed and never quite recovers. Poor Orleanna has yet to understand the true consequences of their Congolese life.

Kingsolver’s essay about visiting friends in West Africa, published in “High Tide in Tucson” is one of the most eloquent pieces I’ve ever read about the continent. To put it mildly, she captured the culture and the way of life in a few thousand words – something I’ve never been able to do.

This author is everything I want to be and more. She is Arizonan and African. She is a mother and a writer. She is beautiful and humble. She is nothing short of amazing. I’ve read everything she’s written, some twice. I’ve sent fan mail and tried several times unsuccessfully to hear her speak. Once, I even passed around a novel on a long flight and drew maps on cocktail napkins and peanut packets to a park where she was going to speak the following week.

If you have nothing to read or a hundred books on your bedside table, consider picking up a Kingsolver. You won’t be disappointed.

Happy 50^th Birthday Barbara!