books

This would have been a great blog entry around Halloween, but the end of October snuck up on me! Reader Cheryl asked on Facebook if I would share some of my references for the seance scenes in The Dark Enquiry. I consulted loads of books, but these are the ones I bought and kept after the book was finished. When I'm researching I will purchase my own books or use library or internet materials. Of the books I buy, I keep the ones that I think will add significantly to my collection and might conceivably be used again. For any given book, there will be somewhere in the vicinity of 60-80 books altogether, and that isn't counting the internet goodies.

Here are the keepers for The Dark Enquiry just on the topic of ghosts/seances/afterlife/the Spiritualist movement:

*The Darkened Room by Alex Owen.

*Other Powers by Barbara Goldsmith.

*Spook by Mary Roach.

*Ghost Hunters by Deborah Blum.

*Lily Dale by Christine Wicker.

*History of Ghosts by Peter H. Aykroyd.

*Talking to the Dead by Barbara Weisberg.

If you are looking for a novel in the same vein, you might enjoy Barbara Michaels' Other Worlds. Hope that helps--and thanks for asking!

No, really. This week marked the debut of Lisa Fain's cookbook, Homesick Texan. It's an offshoot of her fabulous blog of the same name, and I have no doubt it will be every bit as divine. (I'm getting mine on Saturday--my darling mother ordered a copy as a present for me. She was also smart enough to order another for herself. She knows I have sharing issues...)

Moving away from Texas eight years ago was a challenge. Some things I was happy to let go of. (Yes, interstate traffic, I'm looking at you.) Other things I came to realize later were not half so bad as I had thought. (That would be TxDot--the Texas Department of Transportation. Having lived in another state with a different bureaucracy and different roads, I can only say, I MISS YOU GUYS.)

But what I knew right off the bat would knock me to my knees with longing was the food. Texas is a big place with lots of different culinary influences, all of them good. There's beef, of course, with steaks so luscious they'd make a vegan smack a kitten just to get one. There's Tex-Mex, which I'm pretty sure could be the foundation of its own religion. There's barbecue and soul food and good old-fashioned Southern cooking.

Texas has it all, and when you're raised with it, you just take some things for granted. Like chicken-fried steak and Frito pies. I will never forget the look of astonishment on a volunteer mother's face when I walked up to a concession stand at a school event and asked for a Frito pie. She kept insisting they couldn't make such a thing until I pointed out that she had a bag of Fritos, a pot of chili, cheese, and a pair of scissors. I finally had to take her through it step by step until she did it, and when it was over she still looked at me as though I had four heads and muttered something about pies needing to be sweet. (Tell that to a pot pie, Gladys.)

So, missing the food of my home has been a serious issue for me--one that leads me to stuff myself to the point of indelicacy every time I am back in Texas. I have knocked the edge off my cravings with some recipes from Robb Walsh's books and a few things from Grady Spears, excellent gentlemen both of them. For me, Lisa is the third member of the triumvirate. I feel like I'm going home every time I read her blog, and to my absolute delight, she REALLY knows her stuff. The recipes I've tried have been dead on, and I would give this girl a kidney for posting her flour tortilla recipe alone. (Seriously--making those tortillas was like finding the Holy Grail of floury, doughy love.) Needless to say, I am jumping up and down and shaking my pom-poms over this one. Go buy it--I'll wait.

If you're wondering what to read next, the internet has the answer! Check out What I Should Read Next. It's genius--and it works! I plugged in several of my favorite authors and it linked me to other authors I love but also threw in some new ones I hadn't considered. YUM!

This week I've been eating very well indeed, and since we all know I don't actually like to cook but prefer just to throw food together, I thought I'd give you the super simple salad I've been lunching off of:

Toss a few handfuls of salad greens into a bowl. (I prefer romaine because it's the only one that manages some darker green leaves and a lot of crunch. Second choice is mixed field greens.) Add a third of a can of rinsed black beans. Toss in one chopped vine tomato or a handful of halved grape tomatoes. (I LOVE those little guys). Scoop out the flesh from half a large or one whole avocado and toss on top. Grind on some good salt and then add several heaping spoonfuls of fire-roasted salsa. That's it--a bowlful of good veggies with no dressing! I char a habanero-lime tortilla until it's crunchy to have on the side in place of tortilla chips, but you have to be a little careful there. A large tortilla--like the size they use in most burrito franchises--can add 300-400 calories to a meal. Eeek! But the ones I get from Trader Joe's are pretty modest in size and only have about 150, much better than a heap of tortilla chips. You could also add a bit of roasted corn or a bit of chopped cilantro if you like.

The other salad I made was a handful of mixed field greens topped with cold roasted beets, a sprinkling of feta, and a bit of balsamic vinaigrette with freshly-ground pepper. I had that for dinner last night with a baked sweet potato. I realized later that the sweet potato would have been even yummier if I'd cubed it up and roased it until it started to crisp on the outside. I could have tossed it on top of the salad and made a sort of crouton out of it. (And much love to Trader Joe's for cooking and chilling the beets! I love the package of prepped ones I can pick up there in the veggie case because it keeps my kitchen from looking like I just committed an untidy murder on my prep table...)

Oh, darlings, I am home at last and, goodness me, but I'm tired! It was an exhausting, exhilarating, and fabulous time. Here are a few of the highlights--and if you're planning a trip to NYC soon, a couple of things you might want to check out.

Bottega del Vino. Lovely restaurant with a superb wine list just a wee bit down from the Plaza. Really great service and be sure to finish up with some lemon sorbet.

Savage Beauty--the Alexander McQueen exhibit at the Met. A complete OMG moment here. It was stunning. The pieces themselves are breathtaking, and the Met's care in mounting the exhibit is just stupendous. They aren't displayed as clothes, they are works of art, and in the context of the exhibit, it's absolutely apparent. Unforgettable, but GO EARLY! We got there ten minutes after the Met opened and went straight up to the second floor. By the time we finished, the exhibit was already roped off with the line stretching back for two galleries.

The Cloisters. The Met's branch of medieval European art and architecture. It's uptown. FAR uptown, as in you take the subway as far as you can and then walk further. We took the bus from the Met and the ride was over an hour. We took the subway back to midtown and it was 20 minutes, so the subway is definitely the way to go. Just don't underestimate how long it's going to take either way. And it's a wee hike from the subway station, so wear comfortable shoes. That's the grim part--having said that, it's completely worth it. The museum is one of those jewel-like pocket museums, easy to take in even if you only have an hour. Much of the magnificence comes from the architecture, and since it is medieval architecture, the effect is restful and serene. It is as much about the space as it is the tapestries, a particularly relaxing feature if you've just had a bit of art overload. Do not miss the Treasury, in particular the needlework pieces. There are a few unfinished samples, and I was amazed to find that medieval artists would sketch directly onto the fabric before it was stitched by embroiderers--almost exactly what we do today. (It was particularly amazing to compare the tiny, precise stitches with those we had just seen in the McQueen couture an hour earlier.) There's a small cafe in the museum if you want a snack, but we stopped at the New Leaf in Tryon Park for the juiciest hamburgers you've ever seen! Oh, and if you're at the Cloisters, make a point of joining the garden tour. It takes about an hour and covers the unicorn tapestries as well as the various gardens. The guide was hugely knowledgeable and it was well worth the time.

Afternoon tea at the Palm Court in the Plaza Hotel. Oh, my. I've only done this once before, and I was SO happy to go again! The Plaza is just old New York, luxurious and hushed and elegant. It is one of those places that I think you have to have in a city as buzzy and hectic as New York. You walk in and after one breath of that fragrant air, everything just seems to melt away. The staff are very discreet--you hardly know they are there! They arrive with tea and delicious things to eat and slip away again, leaving you to your conversation and the soft piano music in the background. There is NEVER a rush on their part to get you out of there. If you want to stay for two or three hours, they are happy to have you. (And the velvet chairs are so comfortable, it may take you that long to bring yourself to leave...) Don't miss the portrait of Eloise, and be sure to snap a picture of the recently-installed zodiac sculptures just outside the front door.

Alright, this next bit is going to involve some name-dropping, and I apologize in advance. I got to have drinks at the Yale Club with Lauren Willig. I know. Believe me, I couldn't get past the door if I weren't with Willig! But she breezed us right in and we settled into some leather wingbacks for drinks and writer chat and it was divine! All dark leather and quiet tones and toile wallpaper in the ladies' room...if you don't happen to know someone with Yale connections, the Algonquin Hotel is also a lovely place to have some drinks and a cozy chat or even tea if the Plaza is not your thing. If you're there, keep an eye out for the Algonquin cat, Matilda!

I was also--yeah, more name-dropping, sorry!--lucky enough to have a late drinks date with Kristan Higgins. From her books and videos you might expect her to be charming and funny and incredibly sweet. You'd be wrong--she's even better. I was so happy to spend a bit of time with her and catch up! I had drinks in a few different places during BookExpo, and I think my favorite was probably Bar 10 in the Westin. It's just off of Times Square and VERY comfortable with low, squashy banquettes and a fireplace.

Phew! That's it for now, I think. I'm home, I'm catching up, and I hope all is great with y'all!

Mother's Day--in the US--is soon upon us, and it occurred to me that I've run across several books lately that might make fab gifts. In no particular order...

*Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother by William Shawcross. It's a stonking big book--hundreds and hundreds of pages, but beautifully written. The story of the Queen Mother is the story of the twentieth century, and if your mum is of the royalist persuasion, she might just love this.

*Elizabeth I by Margaret George. The queen of the royal historical novel strikes again! I haven't had a chance to read this one yet, but the cover is glorious, and I have no doubt the book itself is fab.

*She Walks in Beauty: A Woman's Journey Through Poems by Caroline Kennedy. Simply beautiful. It's thoughtful and elegant--the perfect gift for a mother who loves poetry.

*The Wilder Life: My Adventures in the Lost World of Little House on the Prairie by Wendy McClure. I haven't read this one yet, but the premise is intriguing. McClure threw herself into the Ingalls way of life and chronicled her experiences. For those of us who grew up on the Little House books, this would be just the thing.

*In the Garden of Beasts: Love, Terror, and an American Family in Hitler's Berlin by Erik Larson. Alright, not exactly a touchy-feely sort of Mother's Day gift, I admit, but Larson writes fascinating books about specific moments in history, always with great attention to detail.

*any of the Taschen city books. The London volume is simply splendid, and it's a beautiful piece of armchair travel.

Ah, the MacGuffin. One of those writerly things that all readers are aware of but don't necessarily know they are. Alfred Hitchcock is credited with coining the phrase, and although it may predate his work, he certainly popularised the concept. The MacGuffin, quite simply, is the device that moves the plot forward. It can be an idea, an object, a person, but whatever it is, it lies at the heart of the protagonist's quest. The MacGuffin may be serious or whimsical; it may be vitally important or a bit trivial. It may start as the central point of the plot and peter off or it may hold center stage for the whole of the story. It could be the photograph of Irene Adler and the King of Bohemia, a purloined letter, a missing heiress, a Maltese falcon. It is, in fact, nothing and everything. (One clever usage in a Christmas romance novella had the hero and heroine sleuthing out Chinese codes in the season's hottest toy, a Major MacGuffin action figure. I wish I could remember who wrote it because it was hilarious and very aptly named.)

Storytellers disagree on the importance of the MacGuffin itself. Hitchcock never felt the MacGuffin was significant to the reader (viewer, in his case), while George Lucas has been quoted as saying it is tremendously important that the audience cares about the MacGuffin. Arguments can be made for both, but what is absolutely essential is that the storyteller cares. Essential, people. The MacGuffin can't just be something you toss in because you think it sounds good.

Yesterday I skimmed a book that was VILE. The book was titled after its MacGuffin and it could have been brilliant. However, the writer apparently decided he was entirely bored with it and discussed it twice. In the entire book. And never in detail, mind you. He never explained why exactly this particular MacGuffin would be worth killing for, although he clearly adored spilling blood on practically every page. I was never more grateful in my life that I had used the library and not paid money for something printed between two covers. I was seriously foaming at the mouth when I was finished. A MacGuffin ought to be treated with respect if you are creating anything that is supposed to be taken seriously. This was not a farce; it was a thriller. To  me that means the MacGuffin ought to have been treated with care, with a touch of reverence or at least interest on the part of the writer. He was obviously blase about his MacGuffin, so guess what? I was too.

And say what you like about Dan Brown--and people do say plenty--he does tie his MacGuffins very tightly to his plot. His passion for art and puzzles and history is evident and I think it's that passion that people respond to.

What about you, chickens? Any favorite MacGuffins?

Last week I mentioned the book Wicked Plants by Amy Stewart. Reader Ashley very thoughtfully emailed me a link to an exhibit at the San Francisco Conservatory of Flowers featuring Stewart's book! I am seriously lamenting the fact that I am nowhere near the west coast right now because the exhibit sounds divine. (I've also got Alnwick Castle's poison garden on my list for my next trip to the north of England...) Anyway, if you are at all close to San Francisco, this exhibit sounds well worth the trip. Also, thanks to Ashley's email, I discovered that Stewart has a new book out--Wicked Bugs--which I snapped up, so huge thanks, Ashley!

And this leads me to wonder, what is the best exhibit you've seen, permanent or temporary? I'll have to close up comments after a day or so, but please drop a line in there if you're inclined. (And I am howling at Cronemagic's indignant posts directed towards our resident scammers. It hasn't deterred them yet, but it is indeed a noble effort!)

So I mentioned that galpal Sali was here for a visit this week and brought some lovely prezzies--including William and Kate masks to wear for the royal wedding. She also gave me a copy of Le Dossier: How to Survive the English, "translated by Sarah Long". That last bit is in quotation marks because Sarah Long claims to have merely translated the book and to have met the "real" author, Hortense de Monplaisir at a cocktail party. (This is complete rubbish, of course. Long wrote the book herself, which is apparent the moment you realise the cover has Hortense's name nowhere on it and novelist Long's is the only one listed in the copyright.) Hortense is a very chic Parisienne transplanted to London who has allegedly written a guide for fellow Frenchwomen in similiar circumstances. It is biting and caustic and would have been highly entertaining if it had been written by a Frenchwoman. The fact that it was actually written by an Englishwoman masquerading as a Parisienne makes the book infinitely more wicked. It is difficult enough to skewer another culture, but to do it twice is utter genius. Long's mimicry is pitch-perfect, and not only does she have her own countrymen sussed, she is completely dialed in to what the French think of them. It's worth reading for Hortense's sly skewering of her husband, Pierre-Marie, alone. Enjoy, mes amis!

Oh, chickens. Out of the blue I received an email from Kristan Higgins--a totally and completely bodacious chick and a superb writer. (On Facebook there's a picture of us hanging out last year at RWA just before she won her second RITA. Success looks VERY good on her!) Anyway, in this email Kristan shared something she had written for a website about my first book. And it was beyond flattering. It was fun and witty--like Kristan herself--and it was incredibly insightful--also like Kristan. She completely nailed what I was trying to do in Silent in the Grave which was awesomeness in itself. It's always very gratifying when another writer understands what you were trying to do. Writers are like conjurors. We're always performing elaborate sleights-of-hand, and sometimes only another writer will appreciate just how difficult it might have been.

I will link to the post when it goes live, but that isn't really the point of this post. Today I just wanted to reflect on how wonderful it is to be kind. It's not fashionable. It's not cool. It's not something that we talk about all that often. But I think we miss it. There was a brief fad for random acts of kindness awhile back, but I think we need more. We need deliberate acts of kindness. I don't think it's that we mean to be unkind really. It's just that kindness takes effort and thought and deliberation. And who has time for that?

We do. No matter how busy, how over-committed, how important we are, we always have thirty seconds to send an email. Or better yet, two minutes to write an actual note! We have time to pass along a book recommendation or a bottle of wine to a friend. We have time to introduce a friend who got laid-off to the contact who is looking for someone with their qualifications. We have time to slip a few dollars into an envelope for a charity we believe in. We have time to write a love note for a lunchbox or to stick on the bathroom mirror. We have time to pick up the phone and say, "Thank you for being there for me." And right now, I have time to say, thank YOU for being here for me. I appreciate y'all more than you know.

(And while we're talking about the insane fabulousness of Kristan Higgins, I'm going to suggest that you run out this minute and get a copy of her brand-spanking-new book My One and Only. It's out this week and it's getting smoking-hot reviews! I picked up my copy yesterday and can't wait to dive in!)

Fictional, of course. Now, I'm not proud of this, but I do have an irrational hatred of certain characters who are supposed to be sympathetic. They were not, as far as I can tell, written with any desire to engender hatred, but there you are. We're getting spammed still, but I will leave comments open for awhile if you'd like to chime in with your own personal list of loathing. (Think of these as the opposite of literary crushes...)

1. Helen Burns. Jane Eyre's consumptive friend. Yes, I get it, she's a child with TB and she dies--I ought to feel for her. But every time I read the book or suffer through yet another film adaptation of her wheezing into a handkerchief, all I can think is, "DIE ALREADY."

2. Isabella Linton. Heathcliff's wife. She's a pathetic creature to be sure. She marries the brooding Heathcliff only to have him hang her dog on their wedding day. Guess she finally figured out what he was brooding about...anyway, I know she's supposed to pique my compassion, but I just resent her for getting in the way of Heathcliff and Cathy. (Odd that I don't hate Edgar quite as much, but there it is. I think it's because Isabella was snarky to Cathy that I despise her more.)

3. Ashley Wilkes/Bruce (Lord Carlton). The objects of slightly requited passion for Scarlett O'Hara and Amber St. Clare. Honestly, both of these women spend about a thousand pages hankering after men they can't have who are SO not worth their time. Ashley is vague and annoying and Bruce is the same. They both lead their ravishing leading ladies on in a wholly unfair fashion while marrying women who are far too good for them. If only they had turned their sights on Rhett Butler and Lord Almsbury from the beginning...

4. Fanny Price. Oh, dear God. I know Emma Woodhouse is supposed to be the heroine Jane Austen expected no one but herself to like, but I find Fanny INFINITELY more irritating. She's a fussy little prig without half of Emma's drive and sass and that makes her completely forgettable.

5. Romeo. I know. One half of one of the greatest romantic pairs in literary history. And yet. He's a creeper cry-baby who changes ladyloves as often as he changes his hose. So there.