One of the reasons I've been negligent about blogging is that I'm finding being retired to be less than a mixed blessing. In fact, I can't really call it a blessing at all. I was very, very focused for many, many years on my career. Its end was earlier than I would have chosen, as I've written here before, and the time since has not been easy, in many ways.
This afternoon, at Barnes & Noble, I helped a woman choose between two sets of flash-cards for her autistic nephew who loves historical facts. It’s the first time I’ve felt truly useful in … awhile. (Yes, it was a bit disconcerting to hear “can someone help me?” being called over the railing into the cafe, but once I saw she wasn’t in need of CPR or a tourniquet, it turned into an opportunity. I hope we chose well.)
Anyway, the one thing I can be counted on to do is read and comment. That the title of my latest read is related to how I feel about the above is pure coincidence.
Leaving Everything Most Loved by Jacqueline Winspear
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
Can one's life be too settled? Maisie Dobbs rejects the comfortable path as she works on two cases. One case, the murder of two Indian women, brings her to think of the role that country served in the lives of her two mentors, Khan and Maurice, and to wonder if she, too, needs to experience a journey out before she can make a choice. Another case brings her back to neighborhoods she would have known as a child, a sharp contrast to her present circumstances. Other people in Maisie's life face choices and dilemmas, and another World War seems inevitable.
This is a slightly darker Maisie, and it left me even more eager to see what choices she makes next. As always, the writing is evocative and clean, and the characters as real as they come.
Highly recommended!
View all my reviews
Isn't that a lofty title? I love to stumble upon things I'd never imagine. Here's one --I commented on a post about marginalia at 60 going on 16. I love marginalia. In fact, marginal glimpses into what others want to remember are often more memorable than the actual book! I also love green ink, which I mentioned in my comment because the color of the marginalia in the original post was green.Well. Who would have imagined that green ink has an actual connotation in England? My first clue was contained in a comment by Juliet, of Musings from a Muddy Island, whose "heavens!" was both emphatic and puzzling.
Had I read Lucky Jim, perhaps I would have remembered that the hero receives "ill-written" letters in green ink. (Note: no "perhaps" about it. I always notice references to ink, pens, paper, and notebooks. Always.) But how could I have known about the "green ink brigade" that writes letters to newspapers in England?- “The expression is the more-or-less affectionate description given by journalists and politicians to the people who write them eccentric letters, often in block capitals and frequently underlined in multicoloured inks. For some reason I have never heard satisfactorily explained, the most obsessive of these correspondents seem to prefer green."
A quick Google brought me here. I want more! I'm off to Google some more, and take some notes - yes - in green ink. (Incidentally, I also stumble on less-enjoyable things. I stumbled down half a flight of stairs last week. I didn't break anything, but the fall was an insult to my spine, which has been curling itself into a combination of a double helix and the golden ratio for decades. My spine, alas, is far more creative than the rest of me, and far less tolerant of insults. Just one of those things.)
