One thing about having a cold, it means I can sit (or lie) and read to my heart's content. So on Monday afternoon, after the worst of the cleanup was over, I curled up on the sofa with a cup of tea and lemon and honey and leapt into Notes from No Man's Land. a collection of American essays by Eula Biss.
Since I still have a cold (she whined), I'll quote a bit from the back cover, rather than force my brain into originality:
"Eula Biss is the author of The Balloonists. She teaches nonfiction writing at Northwestern University . . . Her essays have appeared in the Believer and Harper's."
"Like Blake, that other mystic poet, Biss sees the world in a grain of sand. Without missing a beat, she looks at a telephone pole as a symbol of our universal connection, the intrusion of technology, an instrument of lynch mobs, a reminder of her grandfather's death, and a symbol of life sprouting new leaves even after it is strung with wires."
This is some beautiful, mind-stretching writing. I've followed Eula's career with some interest as I first met her years ago when she was still a baby. Eula is the niece of one of my very dear friends who handed me a copy of this book at the Easter party. I had devoured Eula's first book, in awe of her way with a word and her truly original turns of thought, so I was eager to see what awaited me in No Man's Land.
No disappointment here. I highly recommend this collection of quirky, iconoclastic, idiosyncratic thoughts from the heartland.
But that was Monday. On Tuesday I re-entered the seamy underside of modern day London which Elizabeth George, like some Dickens of today, lays out in heartbreaking detail.
What Came Before He Shot Her traces the events that led to the murder of one of George's most beloved characters. It's testimony to George's power as a writer that I found myself deeply engaged with most of the characters and eager to follow their stories even though the setting is a far cry from the idyllic English countryside.
And when I finished this one (I read really, really fast -- knowing that if I like a book, I'll re-read it eventually), the next in the series awaited me. While
WCBHSH, is almost a standalone (no Thomas Lynley or Barbara Havers),
Careless in Red returns the faithful reader to the familiar characters. Here the setting is Cornwall -- not Daphne DuMaurier's romantic Cornwall of smugglers and Cavaliers but the modern tourist-infested Cornwall where surfing looms large as a way of life. And here again, George drew me in as I followed the heartsore Lynley through the investigation of a murder and wondered . . . but I don't want to spoil anything for those of you who might be tempted to read this latest one. I will say, I'm eager for the next but will wait patiently because I know how long it takes.
