"G" Authors -- Going to Work, Going Home, Going Criminal?

Author's note: A couple of years ago, my library system added blog posts to our website. Many of the posts were short collections of book reviews, often following a theme. I tried writing a few of these, but never felt like I could keep up with the thought-provoking themes of my librarian colleagues. It was a good challenge, a growth opportunity, and I was honored to have been selected to write for our site. After a few successes, and several wadded-up-and-thrown-in-the-trashcan failures, I realized that what I needed was my old writing partner to get me going again. Enter Polo! 

All of the books reviewed here are available as downloadable audiobooks.


Making Jack Falcone

Joaquin Garcia

A real-life story of the mob, crime, punishment, and maybe justice. Joaquin Garcia is a hulk of an FBI agent who was able to infiltrate one of the biggest crime families on the East Coast. There are scenes of violence, crude language, and every bit of illegal behavior you’d expect to find in a book on this subject. What was most surprising to us, though, was how Mr. Garcia (six feet four inches tall, weighing in at three hundred pounds or more) kept from being recognized over the course of several years and a handful of aliases.

Polo’s thoughts: “Apparently the Mafia doesn’t run Lab tests. One sniff would have sent them running from this ‘Jack Falcone’ guy. Woof!”

Sous Chef

Michael Gibney

Subtitle: 24 Hours on the Line

We picked up this one because one of our favorite people works in a dining establishment of multiple star rating (that is, a classy restaurant). Our person has told stories of stress and intensity, of being slammed with customers and of coworkers who don’t take their turns polishing silver or buffing the glassware. We wanted to see inside a kitchen, and this book gave us that view. Let the listener beware – very salty content.

Polo’s insight: “No wonder my man is exhausted on his days off! The noise and action is too much. I enjoy my kibbles in our own quiet house, thank you very much.”

Mrs. Pollifax Pursued

Dorothy Gilman

(narrated by Barbara Rosenblat)

We enjoy listening to Barbara Rosenblat, and Katharine read all of the Mrs. Pollifax books many years ago. The best thing about Mrs. Pollifax? She’s full of surprises! She dabbles in martial arts, travels extensively to obscure locations, keeps secrets, makes friends, and stirs up trouble while uncovering world-class villains. While she is utterly lovable, she is a force to be reckoned with – but the bad guys never suspect!

Polo’s perception: “Mrs. Pollifax seems like a cat – but a good one, sneaking up on bad guys. She’s all good!”

Camino Island

John Grisham

Although we usually skip bestselling authors (because their books are already in demand, it’s not like they need more publicity, and we like to suggest things that might not be on your radar), we had to choose another “old favorite” and go with Grisham. The story did not disappoint. Great setting, interesting characters, and a plot that is part mystery, part normal life.

Polo’s pondering: “There’s a dog here, but the dog doesn’t get to participate much except to walk on the beach. I like beach. Good story.”

The Stranger Game

Peter Gadol

Pick a stranger, follow them, but don’t let them see you, and see how far you can get away from your own humdrum life routines. The “game” goes from innocent to edgy to… murder??? For the duration of this audiobook, every time I (Katharine) was out alone somewhere, I was tempted to play the game myself. Who doesn’t want to watch, to imagine a story about a person, to throw yourself into an innocent but secret mission?

Polo’s regrets: “I watch people all the time, in front of my house. I’d follow them, too – but I would also bark to let them know I’m here. I’m always ready to play!”

Triggers

Marshall Goldsmith

Eye-opening reminder that I am not in absolute control of my reactions, habits, and go-to behaviors. That sounds harsh, but this author really is gentle. We all have personal triggers – tone of voice, physical tics, even childhood memories – that arouse anger or sadness, fear or compassion. The book is full of helpful advice and real-life examples of both good and not-so-good behavior. Goldsmith takes things to an extreme for himself – he suggests paying someone to be your accountability partner, calling them at the end of every day to rate yourself in a number of areas of concern. I guess that would be like a dieter doing a weigh-in, with an observer holding a clipboard and writing down every scale reading. You don’t have to follow every suggestion in this book, but you’ll probably find insight, encouragement, and challenge here. I did.

Polo’s response: “Squirrel? Trigger! Crow? Trigger! I must bark my loudest at every bad invader! Why would I want to change? Oh – you said dog biscuit? Play with toy? Well…”

The End of the Suburbs

Leigh Gallagher

Polo and I live in the suburbs. Very happily, we thought. But this study of “new urbanism” and other trends of residential life introduced us to different ideas (and ideals) of sustainability, walkability, and community. Descriptions of large, planned communities are appealing, in some ways, and made us reconsider the style of population density to which we are accustomed. Among our extended family, there are people who live right in the city and people who live more than five miles away from a small town, covering a range of lifestyle choices and opportunities. Very eye-opening to ponder the variety of situations that we in North America call home.

Polo’s observation: “I like my yard. I like my neighbor’s yard. I don’t like cars or buses or busy streets. I don’t even like neighbors walking on my part of the street. Woof!”

Being Educated by "Educated"

I don't usually read bestsellers. At least, not while they are still on the bestseller list. The main reason is that I don't feel any need to jump on the bandwagon. The other big reason is that I don't think to put myself on the waitlist for soon-to-be-published hot titles, and once I notice the new book, the hold list is way long. So I don't bother.

But I have friends who recommend books. In fact, they're professionals when it comes to suggesting the next great read. How can I help but get excited? So I put myself on the list for Tara Westover's memoir, Educated. Homeschooled girl from strict religious family makes it big in academia, despite not having any formal instruction in history, science, or math. How did she break free to enter university? How did she manage to earn multiple degrees? How did she overcome her extremely isolated childhood?

When I listened, engrossed, I found the audiobook was more of a horror story. Over and over, I perched on the edge of my seat. "Run! Run from the house before the crazed ax murderer catches up with you! Get away from the giant metal-eating behemoth machine before it crushes you! Tell someone about your brother slamming your head into the wall!"

This is a story of abuse. So much abuse, for so many years. The breaking free was not so much about education, although that certainly was her ticket to a completely different world. As is so common for people who experience domestic violence, it seems impossible to sever the ties that bind them to their abusers. That is the horror of this story. And that is the reader's opportunity for education.

To Write, or Let it Rot?

The more I read good stuff, the more I want to write again. I cannot express how much it means to me when someone asks what happened to the novel I was working on several years ago. It touches me that they would remember and ask, and it grieves me deeply that those manuscripts (plural) have become dry and dusty relics. I think I will write again. My characters are still there, alive after all these years, and maybe there are more stories to be written besides those two. Time will tell.

But I will not dwell on failure -- my own failure to launch. Maybe it wasn't the right time, maybe I wasn't adequately seasoned just then. It sure was fun, though. Time to see what comes next.

I have recently discovered that I have "severe" obstructive sleep apnea. So severe that I wonder how I have managed to put one foot in front of the other each day. Now that I have my very own CPAP machine and am already seeing successful treatment, I wonder what superpowers I will unleash with a few good weeks of sleep. Maybe this writing this could come back into being? And maybe, finally, an increase in physical stamina? I could stand to lose a few pounds, too, so maybe that. Focus is always good. We'll see.

One of my favorite features of blogging is being able to add photo illustrations. However, it's easy to work on my photos OR write the text. If I'm going to write tonight, I need to stick to writing. I'll add photos soon, but not tonight. Words will have to be enough. Words can be amazing, too, on a good writing day. Ha -- the best thing about my photos is that I get to crop them to show the very best of the composition! I've heard that writing is like that. Cropping out the extra, distracting, material in order to highlight the heart.

I've let the compost pile rot long enough. I'd like to write. We'll see what happens.

Hello? Hi? Is Anybody There?

Golly, when did the wallpaper get changed to this very innocuous light blue fluff? At least I fixed the text so it's black on white. More readable and all that, you know. I've learned a little about writing with accessibility on the Web.

So I've been paying a lot of attention to that daily time-stealing, friend-conversing, mainly-used-by-my-generation face thing. A lot of attention, as in, several years' worth of attention. One lonely blog post here last year. Yikes. I'm sorry! I think often about blogging, but it takes so much time and energy to write up and edit (and edit, and re-edit) multiple paragraphs here. Meanwhile, on that other platform, there are pretty pictures and greetings from friends and more pictures, and I can scroll through a hundred short pieces in an hour and feel as though I've caught up with my people.

But this blog thing has value. Sure, the posts really are short, and they're not deeply personal, but I can pretend that hundreds of kind strangers (or no one at all) will read and nod in understanding. Is there still a place for blogs any more? My, how quickly things change.

I'm blogging for work, though only occasionally. I'm supposed to be able to post book suggestions -- not reviews, exactly, because I don't think I should say that something is so awful that no one should pick it up. I wanted to do this because it's writing, and I'm a writer. (Being a writer, in this case, does not necessarily mean that anyone will choose to read my writings. But I like to write.) Once I got all trained and instructed in the professional aspects of writing for work, I did a few posts... and lost my motivation. Crickets.

Recently, however, I re-discovered my muse and became re-energized to blog again. My alter ego, my writer-side, was right there in front of me all the time. I just hadn't been looking to him for help, because this was supposed to be professional, you know, for my career, writing. This muse of mine, you see, has a sweet face, a black and pink mottled nose, and a long wagging tail. It's Polo. It's so much easier to imagine my dog's responses to things than to write my own highly edited thoughts. Polo is straightforward, honest, and only a little bit cynical about human nature. He's kind and witty. And he uses a simpler vocabulary than I can muster. (Another rule about writing for the work blog is to keep it very readable for English language learners. I don't mean to sound high-falutin' -- it just happens to be how the words fly off my fingers.)

So, I'm taking my dog to work these days, hoping he can get away with writing book stuff for me. We'll see how it goes. At least 30% of the blog posts on our website are read by fellow staff members, and everything is carefully reviewed as soon as it's published. If Polo isn't allowed on that blog, at least he can come back here to lend a paw regularly.

Thanks for checking in. I'll try to get back here more often. Mostly, I'll try to write. Somewhere. Like this guy on the side of a building at the University of Washington. Because he's been at it a long time, and he isn't finished yet.

[The Beginning of] the Beginning of the Story

The whole "baby in the manger" thing has me thinking. What in the world are we supposed to do with an infant whose birth was heralded by angels, visited by sheep herders, lauded by wise travelers? It makes for a great story, except there's no closure at the end of our Christmas holiday. That Baby, no matter how special and holy, can't do anything. It's great that He came, but...

My dad used to travel for business, and he'd sometimes bring special gifts home. When he went to Alaska, he returned with photos and explanations of a large retaining wall for which his company had supplied the interlocking pieces. Oh, and jade necklaces for my mom and me. One of his early trips to the east side of the state, he witnessed tumbleweeds blowing across the highway. I was thrilled to take a real tumbleweed to school for show-and-tell! (Side note: I had to wrap it in newspaper so my classmates wouldn't guess what it was. Ha!) Looking back, I enjoyed the stories as much as the presents.

my completed moccasins were something like this

And then, on a jaunt to Arizona, he picked up a moccasin kit so I could stitch up my own slippers. No story, but something representative of the place. I loved the idea of having my own moccasins. But the kit, by itself, was only a beginning. It was what came after, the process of putting them together, that would make them useful. Only after that would I be able to wear them.

The baby in the manger is kind of like the moccasin kit. In order to really get something out of it -- Jesus, that is -- you have to involve yourself in a process. There's the first part of His story, understanding that His birth and His very existence is amazing. As an adult, He did things and told stories and taught lessons that should have our attention. But then... then there was the whole "end of story" part when He was killed -- but He could have gotten out of it. What? Yes, Jesus could have opted out, but He let them put Him to death as a religious criminal. And then, after He was proven to be dead, He was resurrected and reunited with His followers before returning to the right hand of God the Father. The point of all of this was to pay the penalties for all of our misdeeds, so that we could also be with Him forever.

So, celebrating the miraculous birth of the Baby is like opening that moccasin kit. It's exciting just to see this beginning, but there's much more to come if you carry it out to the end. Read and follow the instructions, as it were, to receive the real joy and fulfillment.

But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, even to those who believe in His name, who were born not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God.

Back to Basics -- the Dog's View

When I created this blog, oh, so many years ago, it was an assignment for a class. The specific purpose was to record my progress through the course, demonstrating various internet tools and such. This summer, I'm back in school, taking a short adult-education photography class. And I need help. The first "lecture" was on the use of aperture as it relates to depth of field. As you have noticed, I like to play with depth of field. A lot. But I've only done so by using a telephoto lens and manual focus. This aperture thing is... well, it's actually physics and higher math and stuff about which I am clueless.

Enter Polo.

If he can explain aperture, to give me a memorable word picture, I'm golden. (Of course, he's more of a Golden than I will ever be, thanks to his canine heritage. But I digress.) Take it away, Polo!

In back yard, I focus on Squirrel. No concern about what is behind, around Squirrel. Squirrel, my mortal enemy, my wide-eyed concentration. I have big, big eyes for Squirrel. Background no matter, let it blur so that Squirrel is only subject.

But if Crow lands on fence, I must narrow eyes to watch Crow and Squirrel. Crow my mortal-est mortal enemy. I might someday catch Squirrel; but Crow flies, sneaks up, does mean things. I make eyes small to watch near Squirrel and farther Crow. My expression with small eyes is inscrutable. Do not let Crow see my thinking.

Okay, so that one word -- inscrutable -- gives me a strong mental image. When Polo has more than one subject to watch, he squints. Sure, in his case, it's a psychological game, but the practical application is that making the aperture smaller will increase the depth of field so that he can focus on both the near and far critters of malice. 

f/5.6 (largest available aperture)

f/36 (smallest available aperture)

marshmallows at f/5.6

marshmallow visual pun at f/36


Must be inscrutable, watch both Mortal Enemies at same time. And take nap.