Blue-Footed Musings

I first decided to read Armistead Maupin because he and I have something in common, and that’s how the best relationships begin, isn’t it? I started with his most famous book, Tales of the City. I enjoyed it far more than I expected to and I still have it in my collection. But the Great Library Purge is looming and every book here has to justify its presence. I opened up the Tales to refresh my memory and was immediately drawn in by Maupin’s snappy sense of humor. For now, Tales of the City stays.

Meanwhile, I also have a copy of Maybe the Moon that I picked up years ago but never got around to reading. It’s a library discard. Seeing the discard stamp in a book is always depressing. Poor unloved book! On the surface it’s easy to see how it could be overlooked. The main character, Cady, is 31 inches tall. Do the math. That’s 2 feet, 7 inches. Potential readers might wonder if they can identify with a character who seems so different from themselves, and they might worry that the author will ultimately come off as patronizing or mocking. I read 27 pages last night, too few to form any lasting opinions, but enough to partially relieve those concerns.

I’ll let you know how it turns out.

From The Water-Babies, some excellent advice for boys:

So, when you grow to be a big man, do you behave as all honest fellows should; and never touch a fish or a head of game which belongs to another man without his express leave; and then people will call you a gentleman, and treat you like one; and perhaps give you good sport: instead of hitting you into the river, or calling you a poaching snob.

The poacher in this book not only drowned in the river, but he then went to this weird Hell where he couldn’t smoke his pipe or drink any beer. Egad! And he was stuck in a chimney for a hundred years and there pelted every evening with hail formed from his own mother’s frozen tears, “those which she shed when she prayed . . . by her bedside” for her “graceless son.”

That’s rough. Now go behave yourselves!

Since getting on the subject of what makes a good library, I’ve decided to evaluate each book in my collection and weed out any that are unworthy. Naturally, I must have read a book in order to evaluate it, but you’d be surprised at the number of unread books on my shelves. One I just read, The Water-Babies by Charles Kingsley, belonged to an aunt who died when I was young. Disposing of it is not an option, given the name on the bookplate, but I was hoping to further justify my ownership by liking it immensely.

Grade: D

I understand now how I could have owned The Water-Babies since childhood without ever having read it. My guess is that child-me got about five pages in, yawned, and put it right back on the shelf. While charming at times, it was more often preachy and tedious. It was also occasionally insulting to females, Americans, the Irish, Jews, and others. If it had nothing to recommend itself, it would get an F, but there were just enough sweet moments to earn it a D. It is also a virtual goldmine of interesting bits, such as never-ending sentences, obscure words, dated ideas, and odd lists. I want to remember them, since they come to me from my aunt, so I will share them here on my blog.

For your enjoyment, an excerpt from pages four and five, one of the longest sentences I have ever seen. Take note of the first two words.

In short, Harthover was a grand place, and sir John a grand old man, whom even Mr. Grimes respected, for not only could he send Mr. Grimes to prison when he deserved it, as he did once or twice a week; not only did he own all the land about for miles; not only was he a jolly, honest, sensible squire as ever kept a pack of hounds, who would do what he thought right by his neighbors, as well as get what he thought right for himself, but, what was more, he weighed full fifteen stone, was nobody knew how many inches round the chest, and could have thrashed Mr. Grimes himself in fair fight, which very few folks round there could do, and which, my dear little boy, would not have been right for him to do, as a great many things are not which one both can do, and would like very much to do.

More tidbits from The Water-Babies to come in future posts.

I had the good fortune to read two incredible books back-to-back. Just after The Sirens of Titan, I read The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield. It was a gift from a friend, and though she had not read it yet herself, she knew that it was the kind of book that was likely interest me. It sure did.

Grade: A

The Thirteenth Tale came within a hairsbreadth of an A+ so engrossing was the first half of the book. It lost some energy toward the end, though, which is why I gave it just an A. It is a must-read for anyone who loves Jane Eyre.