What's On My Bookshelf?

Last week, Anne at Modern Mrs. Darcy asked us if we snuck peeks of other people's bookshelves when we visited their houses. Of course we did! And so this week, we're linking up pictures of our bookshelves for others to ogle.

I have a lot of books, y'all. So here we go!

The first bookshelf you see when you enter the house is this one:

Until recently, it held very few books; I had only recently consolidated the APO memorabilia to one shelf instead of two. But then T-Rex started walking and pulling books off shelves, so I had to clear the lower shelves of another bookcase, and those books got jammed in here willy nilly.

Most obviously, the stack of German textbooks on the very top of the bookcase:

Then more German books, shoved in around the original contents of the shelf: parenting and baby books. That Having a Baby book is the one my mom read when pregnant with me in the eighties. You may recognize The Chronicles of Narnia in the middle there--but auf Deutsch. I wrote my senior thesis on Thomas Mann's Doktor Faustus, which is why I have that one in both English and German.

Next, the rest of the German books, my Latin stuff, and a few political/sociological books joined the original Gardening and Animals/Nature shelf.

A shelf in the cabinet at the bottom of this bookcase holds the rest of the rescued books: politics/sociology/finance, mostly, though you might spy a few more linguistics/language books--including Cat in the Hat in Latin.

Since Anne mentioned her own little yellow German books, I decided to gather all mine up and take a picture just of them, all two dozen of them:

I don't know why Goethe's Faust is green and not yellow. Because it's so special, I suppose.

The family room holds the majority of our books in five different bookcases.

First up, the little bookcase I had to clear to save from the toddler:

The top shelf is nothing but Bibles. Well, and a concordance:

 

Also? Not even all the Bibles we own.

The next shelf is about a third hymnals and songbooks, one third random religion/theology books, and one third the beginning of my German collection:

 

 Recognize this little volume, Anne? Jane Austen's Stolz und Vorurteil.

 

The two built-ins hold mostly Fancy Law Books and movies:

 

 But there are some random reference books, Spanish textbooks, and modern fiction scattered in:

 

Also some board games and middle school social studies textbooks:

 

The other built-in really is just Fancy Law Books:

 

The final two bookcases hold most of my history and English books from college:

 

From which you can clearly deduce that my history concentration was Asian history:

That Mao biography is heavy stuff. Anyway. Some random war histories, the Crusades, and one of my two books on the sinking of the Titanic--not sure what happened to the first.

Then, a bit of a mix:

Various nonfiction titles, classic fiction, Bullfinch's Mythology, the one volume of Harry Potter I own (the British edition of book seven. Wait, I also own book three auf Deutsch), some other Harry Potter stuff (Looking for God in Harry Potter is a good one for literary types) and, for some reason, two-thirds of the Lord of the Rings trilogy, as well as a combo edition. Whatevs.

Next shelf: where English books go to die:

Can you tell my advisor was a Faulkner scholar? All those gold books in the middle are Faulkner. I think this shelf is arranged novels/short stories and then plays.

More, including the much-loved Norton anthologies:

The random Grisham novel is the DDH's; because he's a lawyer, people keep giving him Grisham books. The book on top of it, To Set Before a Queen is a tell-all cookbook written by a former chief chef to Queen Elizabeth II. I found it hidden away in a used bookstore while looking for something else, which is where all the best books come from.

Next up, the kitchen:

The three books on top are usually displayed elsewhere: Die echte deutsche Kueche, a Schwabisch cookbook, and the Lindt Book of Chocolate. Yum.

I refer most often to Joy of Cooking and How to Cook Everything, which is why they're on the end where they're less likely to set off a destructive domino chain of cookery books. The binders are Kitchen Stewardship eBooks that I printed out because I use them pretty often. There's a healthy collection of church cookbooks from around the country in the middle there.

Ok! On to the less public rooms and their books.

The children's/young adult books live in the guest room:

Oh, Animorphs. I still think you're awesome, even though I'm no longer in middle school:

The white books are the Billabong series, an Australian series of novels about a girl growing up on a sheep station in the Australian bush in the 1910s (spanning WWI). My aunt sent them to me two a time for every birthday and Christmas when she lived in Australia, where I guess they're a classic akin to Little House on the Prairie here. I love them so. much.

Here's my Redwall collection; I was a little obsessed with those mice for awhile in elementary school:

 

Here you can see a bunch of the books left over from my childhood horse obsession, including a really beautiful edition of Black Beauty. Also, dinosaur books:

 

Some more random children's books, including a children's cookbook I got for my seventh birthday and a few German storybooks:

A few of the children's books live in the nursery:

Notably, our How Do Dinosaurs...? collection and some Bible storybooks, including one that is fuzzy like a lion. Also, The Great Big Treasury of Beatrix Potter from my own childhood.

There are a few more children's books around the house. His Indestructible books (paperlike, but unrippable) and a few other board books were on the bottom of that shelf I cleared off for him in the living room. His current favorite is Die liebste Mama der Welt. He also has a German My First Dictionary that contains pictures of things very important to German children, like public transportation ticket vending machines, that do not translate well at all to the American Midwest.

Here are the books in the office:

They're mostly the DDH's law and psychology books.

Last but certainly not least, the books in our bedroom. First, the stack by my bed:

 

I haven't gotten around to putting What to Expect When You're Expecting away yet. The DDH gave me the first Game of Thrones book to read, but I haven't yet started it. I love the Then Sings My Soul devotional, which looks at the origins of hymns. The Lutheran Study Bible because Lutherans decided they needed their own Bible. Here I Stand, the excellent biography of Martin Luther that I have been two chapters away from finishing for more than a year now.

Then there's the built-in shelf, where I keep the sci-fi/fantasy novels:

Theoretically they're in alphabetical order by author. At one time they were, anyway. Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy starts us off. Watership Down is one of my absolute favorite books. The Ender books and some other Orson Scott Card novels, which I've loved since we first read Ender's Game in eighth grade. I Capture the Castle is a charming little novel, written by the author of 101 Dalmations. Stephen Gould, the author of Jumper, lives in Albuquerque and those are all signed.

Let's see. Some Wizard of Oz books that need to move downstairs to the guest room. L'Engle, of course. Jane Lindskold is another Albuquerque author and her books are also signed; we're apparently both Tigers in the Chinese zodiac. I was obsessed with Anne McCaffrey's Dragonriders of Pern novels for the entirety of middle school.

And I stole that The Atlas of Pern from my dad--the other place all the best books come from. Robin McKinley--love her books. Deerskin is beautiful and sad.

More Lindskold because they wouldn't fit on the top shelf. More McKinley; more McCaffrey. A penguin ice cream scoop.

And there we go! Longest post ever, but I have a lot of books!

What do you think? Do you check out other people's bookshelves when you come to visit? What do your own bookshelves say about you? Be sure to check out the linkup to snoop on more awesome reading collections.

Twitterature: August 2013

I haven't been writing much lately, but I have been doing a lot of reading! Here are some of my favorite reads from the last few months, Twitterature style:

Literature with a Capital L

Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel

A engrossing, clever account of Catherine's fall and Anne's rise (Henry VIII wives 1 and 2) from the POV of Thomas Cromwell. Best book I've read this year so far. The #sequel Bring Up the Bodies is almost as good.

A Teaspoon of Earth and Sea by Dina Nayeri

A story about loves lost--but in this case, the loves are a sister, a mother, and pre-revolution Iran. Well-plotted and poignant.

Murder, Mayhem: Mysteries!

The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie by Alan Bradley

The first in the Flavia de Luce series about a precocious, chemistry-loving eleven-year-old in rural 1950 Britain. Charming unreliable narrator. Sometimes a bit cutesy but overall delightful; the mysteries improve as the series progresses. Check out the #audiobook for an excellent reading by Jayne Entwistle.

The Midwife's Tale by Samuel Thomas

Seventeenth-century midwife at the center of a web of mysteries. Written by a history teacher, it's a fascinating look at the rituals of birth and death in the 1640s and the role of the midwife. #firstnovel #waitingformore

The Truth Is Out There: Fantasy and Science Fiction

Cinder by Marissa Meyer

First book in the Lunar Chronicles, dystopian futuristic re-tellings of your favorite fairy tales. Kind of. Book two, Scarlet, introduces new characters and expands the universe, but Cinder's still my favorite. Fast, fun, #isthethirdbookoutyet?

Earth Unaware: The First Formic War by Orson Scott Card

Did you know Card was writing a trilogy of prequels to Ender's Game? Somehow I missed that. This and the second (Earth Afire) are out and must-reads for #Ender fans.

Watchmen by Alan Moore

If you've only ever seen the movie, you owe it to yourself to read the original and get the full scope of the storyline. Masterfully plotted with gritty artwork by Dave Gibbons.

Just the Facts, Ma'am: Non-Fiction

LEGO: A Love Story by Jonathan Bender

A peek behind the scenes of LEGO and its devoted adult fandom. Wanders at times but still fascinating to anyone with a fondness for those nifty little bricks.

Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers by Mary Roach

Fascinating, but not for the weak-stomached.

Be sure to click over to Modern Mrs. Darcy to see what others have been reading.

And then put a nice long list of books on hold at the library. ;-)

Where do they all come from?

Leigh wrote an important series on finding community recently (first post here), inspired by her feelings of loneliness in Nashville.

I could second most of that first post, except for the part about having any friends in the first place--something my husband and I have long lamented (I think I've mentioned before that we're both shy introverts, so making friends is not exactly easy for us).

But Jennifer left a comment that made me stop and think about my own situation a bit more:

You mentioned that you wouldn't notice it as much if your calendar was more full, and that's just the thing. People don't know they are lonely cause they've made themselves so busy. But the deep ache for community doesn't diminish with a full schedule. I make a living (as a yoga teacher) of asking people to lay on the floor and just be present with themselves and their thoughts. I hear, time and time again from people that this agitates them. To which I lovingly reply, "no - it just forces you to see the agitation that is already there, that you have perfected the art of ignoring."

Well. The DDH and I have long semi-joked about how we don't have any friends we can do things with, but it's always been as much joke as problem. Lately, however, I've been realizing just how deeply lonely I really am.

Something has forced me to "see that agitation" that I had "perfected the art of ignoring," and I think I've figured out what.

As an introvert, I lose energy quickly when around other people. As an extreme introvert (100% I and 0% E on the MBTI), I lose energy extremely quickly, and it doesn't take many people to do it. Telephone calls tire me out.

The office where I worked was one big room where the three of us had our desks. The CEO had his own office but was in and out of ours (and we of his), and other people were always coming through--contractors, clients, the IT guy, the UPS men. Though it was a small office, with few people, there was no getting away from them.

I came home completely drained every day. My dealing-with-other-people energy bucket was bone dry by every evening. I usually got home an hour or two before the DDH, which gave me enough time (most days) to build up just enough energy to deal with him, and no more.

I was lonely, I had no friends--but I also had zero energy to deal with any if I had them. The fact that my interaction-with-others quota was being exceeded every day masked the loneliness.

***

Then I started staying home with T-Rex. Most days, the only person I see is the baby, with the DDH for a few hours in the evening and the occasional encounter with a cashier. While there are some days when T-Rex's demands still manage to drain me (even the dogs take their share from that energy bucket, I've discovered), my dealing-with-other-people energy bucket rarely runs dry anymore.

While I was working, I thought I had friends via the internet. See, introverts also hate small talk--it's a big waste of our limited energy stores. And you don't need to small talk the internet. You can read blogs and leave comments and discuss the sorts of deep issues you might get into over an evening coffee date with a good friend, without all the hi-how-are-yous-nice-weather-we're-having-isn't-its.

So with my energy bucket empty and my discussion bucket at least somewhat full, I thought I was doing okay.

At first while staying home I spent even more time on the internet, until finally I realized--these people weren't my friends. I read their words and I wrote mine in the comments, but I didn't really know them and they didn't really know me. You. I don't really know you, and you don't really know me, and as much as we might enjoy our conversations, I can't call any of you up for a picnic in the park or a baby-free evening at a coffee shop. (Which doesn't mean I don't enjoy reading and commenting. You know what I mean, I think.)

I stopped reading a lot of the blogs. Or I would read them, but not comment. It just seemed pointless. And now I'm to the point where I have dozens of people liking my cute pictures of T-Rex on Facebook, but no one who will come to my house for a dinner party, even when I offer to provide all the food. There's no one I can talk to about my frustrations or work out a problem with.

***

This week I learned that New Mexico does not reciprocate with any other states for bar passage. In other words, the only way the DDH could ever work there is if a) he got a federal law job (unlikely, but always possible. maybe.) or b) he takes the bar exam again, which at this point he has sworn he will never do (and he's really bad at standardized tests, so that's probably a good plan on his part).

In other words, we will never move back to my hometown. We will never live near my parents or the friends who live there, who are still friends, or would be, if we lived close and our lives could better include each other.

I don't really know what to do about it. I've tried for five years to make friends here, but the one I succeeded in making moved away last month. It's hopeless, I guess. As an INTJ who's not that into Feelings, I don't really know how I feel about that.

But I think it's sad. I think how I'm feeling is sad.

Red white and blue like the fourth of July

Dressed for the day. ;-)

July is my favorite month.

Of course it is. It's my birth month. I was due June twentieth, and I was born next week. Well, next week twenty-seven years ago.

Clearly baby-me knew that July was the best of months and desired to firmly declare it as my own.

Watching firecrackers.

T-Rex is still not back to sleeping all through the night but he's doing a little better and I'm trying to just roll with it. The DDH does not take quite as relaxed a view, but then, the DDH has to get up and go to work every morning.

Yesterday we spent the day at my in-laws' lounging around, eating hamburgers and setting off fireworks. T-Rex took these completely in stride. You could practically see him saying, "Ok, this is a thing that happens in the world" and adding it to his little mental Encyclopedia of Life.

My mother-in-law's sister and her husband are in town, and I do love them. It's nice to see out-of-town family.

Raowr!

I cannot believe this weather. Last night, while watching fireworks, I kind of felt like a sweater wouldn't have gone amiss, when the breeze rose. I needed a blanket while nursing T-Rex in the hammock. We ate lunch out on the porch. This is usually impossible in Oklahoma in July. But yesterday was beautiful.

Windchimes.

My stepfather-in-law's father (got that?) and I share a birthday, so we celebrated that yesterday as well. We have 110 years between us. I love sharing a birthday with him.

Next week and the week after, T-Rex has swimming lessons! Because he is the first child and I'm already preparing reasons for subsequent children to declare he's my favorite. Also because he loves baths so I think he might like pools.

Family portrait.

The DDH's brother is supposed to visit sometime this month, and then my dad and brother are coming at the end of the month. T-Rex and I plan to take off with them to help move my brother to his new home (he's entering a doctorate of music program in Mississippi), and Dad and I plan to swing up and visit family in Austin on the way back. Then my sister and her boyfriend are coming to visit.

Some of that will be in August, but still. July is always a good month, and I'm hoping this year will not disappoint.

Stop! Hammock time.

Seven Months

We're having kind of a rough go of it lately.

T-Rex stopped sleeping through the night a couple months ago. He went two weeks never sleeping longer than two hours and mostly it was between sixty and ninety minutes. He was teething and we had started giving him Real Food, which seemed to cause him stomach troubles. We stopped the food and he's gone back to sleeping between two and three hours at a time. Which at first seemed great compared to one hour, but now is terrible, especially when he used to sleep nine hours a night. All three of us wake up angry and yelling over and over again.

T-Rex has gotten grumpier, too, though he only has the two teeth. He's quicker to get frustrated with being left to sit and play. He whines a lot. He's heavy and he's grabby and he's only happy being held while walking around. Which is an exaggeration; he's happy most of the time still. But he gets grumpy and he doesn't want to be held while you're sitting. He doesn't want to be held while standing still. He has to be moving around. I vacuum a lot.

In the middle of that, after the two weeks of basically no sleep, I got really sick. I had pink eye in both eyes, a sinus infection, and then two rounds of a stomach bug. I had a fever for a week straight. I would sit in bed staring at T-Rex while he screamed because he was bored of playing in the bed, and I would pick him up and stagger downstairs and it would take me half an hour to change his diaper.

I don't remember much of that week and what I do remember I'm not entirely sure is true. Fevers are like that, I guess.

We ran through our entire stash of frozen pumped milk sending T-Rex off to spend the day with his grandma or having his dad watch him overnight so I could sleep. When the stomach bug hit at the end of the week, I stopped producing entirely (not to mention was completely incapable of sitting up to nurse him at that point), and we had to give him formula. Apparently he made awful faces and refused to eat it at first, but eventually he did, and then he even slept through the entire night while at his grandparents' house.

He seems to be waking up because he's hungry, but our forays into feeding him Real Food mostly seem to give him stomachaches. I think my supply is still low from being sick, and it doesn't seem to matter how much oatmeal I eat or fenugreek I take. So I don't know. I guess we'll all just be tired and short-tempered for awhile.

I guess this is a lot of complaining. But if you could hear me saying this, instead of reading me write it, I'm not whining. It's just facts. It's the way things are right now. So it goes.

There are lots of other things to complain about, too: work, friends, church. But I'm sure it's boring enough to listen to my problems with the baby, so I'll spare you the rest.

At least I'm reading a lot. So there's that.

Here's a picture to make up for the complaining:

Eating eggs.

An English Major Begs for Book Recommendations

I set a goal this year of reading one nonfiction and one fiction book each month.

So far, I think it's going quite well. The goal reminds me to sprinkle all my detective novels and science fiction with the occasional serious read, and I've learned something about a number of interesting topics so far.

However, I'm already looking ahead to next year, and I think I know what my next reading goal needs to be: to read some of those Classics that I've never read.

I don't mean re-reading books I like or that I maybe read not-so-closely in a rush to get them done for school, though that would be another good list. I mean ones that I really have never read before.

My reading history is pretty erratic, and there are some somewhat surprising holes that deserve filling.

So, I'm taking suggestions. What classics do you think are Must Reads?

Here's a brief survey of some of what I have and haven't read:

American

I feel like I'm fairly well-read here. I've read two or three novels and myriad short stories by both Fitzgerald and Hemingway. My college adviser was a Faulkner scholar, so I've read almost everything he's written. I've read Walden and both Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn (though nothing else of Twain's save some short stories). I've read a fair amount of Poe.

For being an avid science fiction and fantasy reader, I've read very little of the classic authors--Asimov, Heinlein. Any speculative fiction fans out there who suggest I catch up on any of these?

Who else am I missing on this list? Clearly it's a very short one. Who are your favorite (North) American authors?

British

Ok, the big guns: I have most of Shakespeare under my belt, with the notable exception of the histories. Should I remedy that? I've read The Canterbury Tales and The Green Knight and most of what's in the Norton Anthology.

I've got a pretty good grounding in the twentieth century playwrights: Beckett, Stoppard, Orton. I've read Joyce though not Ulysses (my alma mater has a big Joyce collection, for some unknown reason).

This may shock you: the only Jane Austen I've read is Pride and Prejudice. What of her others should I read (choosing just one for the purpose of this challenge).

I've read Defoe's Moll Flanders but not Robinson Crusoe. I've read Jane Eyre but not Wuthering Heights. I've read a number of things by Dickens, though I'll admit that when I think of A Tale of Two Cities I mostly think of the Wishbone episode, even though I  had to memorize that famous first paragraph in the ninth grade.

Who are your favorite Brits? What do I neeeeeeed to read?

German

Maybe I'll lose most of you here, and anyway, I think my German major hit most of the highlights. Though admittedly I never did finish Mann's Joseph und seinen Bruedern, and I really have no excuse because my copy is an English translation.

Would anyone be interested in a German Greatest Hits list? Most things can be found auf Englisch, especially the older stuff. I could do a list on Filme, too, if anyone wanted.

Russian

I'll admit it. I've read pretty much none of those people. Tolstoy and his kin. I got halfway through Anna Karenina and abandoned it because my holds on the Twilight novels came in. *ducks and hides from thrown stones*

What of these should I really really read? Should I go back and finish Anna (I would have to start over from the beginning as this was several years ago).

Rest of World

Kafka is Czech but wrote auf Deutsch, so I've read most of his stuff. I even saw a stageplay of Metamorphosis which was the weirdest freaking thing I ever did see. (This is partly because the Freiburg theater company was weird weird weird).

I've read Kundera's Unbearable Lightness of Being (and loved it). I've read Inferno but not the rest of the Divine Comedy. I've never read The Three Musketeers or Don Quixote (again, do Wishbone episodes count?).

I'd especially like it if anyone has any suggestions of classics from some of the other parts of the world: Asia, the Middle East, Africa, South America. I've read a few things here and there but definitely would enjoy more.

Ok. Paring this down to just twelve could be pretty difficult. Which is why I need your help. What are  your favorites, your Must Reads? I know you're a well-read bunch out there. Help!

Six Months

Baby Rex is six months old now. What. It's hard to believe but at the same time it's not.

When my sister was born, I was four and my brother was two. We were duly excited for the new baby, and there is grainy home video of us running around excitedly and begging to hold her and watching her get her first bath.

But after a few weeks, we approached our mother, hand and hand, and said, "It's time for Baby to go home now. Her real mommy is missing her."

Mom tried to explain to us that no, Baby wasn't going anywhere, that she was Baby's real mommy and this was Baby's real home. But we were insistent. "No, you're our mommy. She has a different mommy and it's time for her to go to her real home."

Sometimes I feel like that about T-Rex. I'm wondering when his real mommy is going to show up, and if it's time for him to go to his real home yet. Even after six months, it's hard to wrap my mind around the fact that this is his home, that I am his mother, that he's not going to just go away, that having him around is not going to end (or not for a good eighteen or so years, anyway).

I love him fiercely. He's a funny little guy and a joy to have around most of the time. But I love a number of people--my husband, my parents, my siblings. This is different. Not because the love is greater (maybe it is, I don't know), but because it's less...independent, or something. Maybe that will change as he grows. But right now he's his own person but also kind of an extension of me, all at once.

It's perplexing. That's how I feel about him most of the time. Just sort of confused, like I'm not exactly sure how to feel about him.

He just started crying and I guess no one else is going to come and pick him up, so I will. Because I am his mother and maybe someday I'll feel like I am.