Monday, September 1, 2025

First Lines: August 2025 edition

 I finished 8 books in August, with two long plane rides working to my reading advantage. 

 

 

Book 1

An Abduction

Jean McConville was thirty-eight when she disappeared, and she had spent nearly half her life either pregnant or recovering from childbirth.

 

 

Book 2

As we stepped off the plane at the small airport, the howl of the jet engines deafening and the snowcapped foothills of the Himalayas looming behind us, two old friends embraced.

 

 

Book 3

The Golden Beetle of New Caledonia, 1914

When Margery was ten, she fell in love with a beetle.

 

A beetle, but not the one in the book.

 

Book 4

The Diamond as Big as the Ritz

Q.  I hate to ask you this, but–approximately–how many people do you think you’ve slept with?


 

Book 5

The small, slender woman with apple-red cheeks, greying hair, and shrewd, almost naughty little eyes sat with her face pressed against the cabin window of the BEA Viscount on the morning flight from London to Paris.

 

 

Book 6

Chapter 1: Women’s Rights in Antiquity: The Seed is Planted

4500 BCE to 859 BCE

“Welcome to the history of women’s rights.  Sometimes you have to start at the beginning to understand where you’ve been and where you want to go.”


 

Book 7

Chapter One: It is Important for Children to Learn About Electricity

Mma Ramotswe remembered exactly how it was that the subject of taking a holiday arose. 


 

Book 8

The voice of her new friend, bidding her good night, followed Miss Hannah Mole as she went down the garden path, and the laurel bushes, as she brushed by them, repeated in a whisper, yet with a strange assurance, the persuasive invitation of Mrs. Gibson to come back soon.



Did not finish

Prelude

The conversation took place over dinner in October 1837.  Dusk had likely fallen, and the city’s gas lamps had lit up the central streets of Berlin.




 

The titles and authors revealed:

 

 

Book 1

Say Nothing: A True Story of Murder and Memory in Northern Ireland

Patrick Radden Keefe

441 pages • first pub 2018

nonfiction, history, politics, true crime


This was a book I could not read at night.  Northern Ireland was a violent place.  The unfolding of the crimes and the trajectory of the major characters was well told.   I thought one big shortcoming of the book was that it did not explain the background of the hatred between Protestants and Catholics in N. Ireland.  That said, I did not want this book to be longer than it was.  The inadequacy of the Good Friday Accords was touched on - I was unaware of that.  I read it for book club, where it engendered a good discussion.


Some of my maternal ancestors were from what became Northern Ireland, most likely from County Tyrone.  I don’t know when they emigrated to the US - likely in the late 1800s.  

 

 

My parents on their honeymoon in Ireland.

Book 2

The Book of Joy: Lasting Happiness in a Changing World

Desmond Tutu, Dalai Lama XIV, with Douglas Carlton Abrams (Translator)

384 pages • first pub 2016 

nonfiction, philosophy, self help


Good ideas (but I disagree about the nature of suffering). Repetitive.  I didn’t read the last 20%, which was basically more self-helpy, mainly because one of my book clubs might be reading this book next year.  I’ll probably read that part next year.

 

 

Book 3

Miss Benson's Beetle

By Rachel Joyce

352 pages • first pub 2020

fiction, historical.


I read it for book club.  It was sort of thriller-ish, veering from one tragic event to another, but I had been led to believe it was cozy, light lit.  I didn’t really come to appreciate any of the characters.  I suppose most of the scenes were meant to be comic but there was just too much gripping tragedy for me to find amusement.  The author’s first novel, The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry, is one of my all time favorites, but this one was not for me.

 

 

Book 4

Not My Type: One Woman vs. a President

By E. Jean Carroll

368 pages • first pub 2025

nonfiction, feminism, gender, memoir, politics

 

Oof.  A fast read.  Big trigger warning - rape and sexual assault are described in full detail.  Also, bullying, because, you know, the FFOTUS is an adjudicated rapist and a sexual predator but can’t admit it and has to lash out at other people to cover up what he has done.  The writing style is breezy, chock full of references to high fashion, movies, and literature.  I am not sorry I read this book, but after Miss Benson’s Beetle and this one, I was truly ready for something not thrilling, without any crimes.  


 

Book 5

Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris (Mrs. 'Arris #1)

143 pages 

By Paul Gallico.  Electronic edition published 2022.

First published as Flowers for Mrs Harris in Great Britain by Michael Joseph in 1958.

fiction, classics 


Snobby British people look down their noses at the cleaning lady Mrs. Harris.  But she finds congenial types on a lark of a trip to Paris to obtain the dress of her dreams.  


I had to read it on my tablet, which is less preferable than reading on my kindle.  A pleasant diversion from today’s cruel world.

 

Purim celebration, 2014
The Common Household Husband as
The Phantom, and yours truly as Esther, in a
fancy dress and child's costume tiara

 

Book 6

Amazons, Abolitionists, and Activists: A Graphic History of Women’s Fight for Their Rights.

By Mikki Kendall (writer) and A. D’Amico (illustrator)

208 pages • first pub 2019

nonfiction, feminism, graphic, history


This graphic book covers a huge amount of history, and as such is a good overview of the fight we’ve had.  The artwork was well done.  Includes intersectionality, and the fight for LGBTQ+ rights as well.  


One line made me so sad, I almost decided to hand-write an update in the library book: “These are some of the successes of the women’s movement in the ‘70s.  Even though the E.R.A. didn’t pass, women won the right to have an abortion if they wanted one.” (page 152)  The book was published before the right to an abortion was snatched away by the corrupt and patriarchal SCROTUS.  


Page 178 has the sad truth:   “The women’s rights movement still has a lot of work to do.  Although some women–insulated by wealth and privilege–have been able to rise above most of the concerns affecting the majority, it’s a precarious perch that can be toppled as long as some women aren’t equal.  The patriarchy will hold up the exceptions as examples of what can be achieved and blame everyone else for not being as successful.” 

Political pins.  
All of them state the truth.



 

Book 7

The Woman Who Walked in Sunshine (No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency #16)

By Alexander McCall Smith

224 pages • first pub 2015

fiction, mystery


Blessedly familiar characters, lots of tea drinking, and an interesting twist near the end.  

 

 

Book 8

Miss Mole

By E.H. Young

288 pages • first pub 1930

fiction, classics, historical


Less cheerful than I had expected, but there is no violence, blood, or gore.  I was not in the right frame of mind to read this book, starting it when I was nervous about job-related matters, and not able to fully concentrate. The writing style is anti-Hemingway, with giant sentences.  There was quite a bit of irony, although I’m sure I missed more of it than I got.  The novel seemed to be deeply psychological at points.


There is wringing of hands at the breaking of social norms and at not having the latest style of hat to wear.  The main character, Hannah Mole, has the desire but not the resources to break free from all of that, and uses stinging repartee as her main weapon against the patriarchy.  She had been educated “above her station”.  And she is also a vulnerable human with valid feelings and needs.  I read on because I liked the main character, and wanted to find out how the author wraps up the story.  When I was about ¾ of the way through, I discovered E.H. Young was herself quite the rule-breaker and feminist.  I think it is probably a very good book of its time, as a daring commentary on the role of women in 1920s society, but I picked the wrong time to read it.



Did not finish

The Song of the Cell: An Exploration of Medicine and the New Human

Siddhartha Mukherjee

490 pages • first pub 2022

nonfiction science

I enjoyed reading about the people involved in doing the science, but got muddled in reading about the actual science.  I appreciated learning about Rudolf Virchow.  The library snatched it off my kindle before I could finish.



Saturday, August 30, 2025

Small things and noticing nature


It was a long but uneventful plane trip.


I was reminded by Nance’s blog post to make note of Small Things That Make Us Happy.  Earlier this year I was attempting to Notice One Thing In Nature.  Either or both would be a good discipline for me to resume.  


Small things that made me happy this week


1. A long, unhurried phone call with Younger Daughter, a visit from Older Daughter & her husband, and a visit from Son.


2. The Common Household Husband got Indian food takeout for the day of my return from my business trip.


3. The 3-hour flights for my business trip, both there and back, were completed without trouble.  And so were all the trips to and from the airports, via Uber (although I am a techno-idiot and had trouble figuring out the Uber app, which I seldom use).  Maybe these are not such a small thing.



Noticing Nature


My business trip was to Colorado, near Denver, for 1 ½ days.  The terrain was noticeably different from Southwestern PA.  Near the Denver airport, the land was flat and dry.  No trees.  As we drove north, trees started to be more numerous (but not as dense as SW PA), and the grass was a bit greener.  After a while I could see the Rockies in the distance.  But I didn’t take any photos.


First glimpse of Colorado,
in Uber driving away from
Denver airport



Wednesday, August 20, 2025

End-times pie

For the moment of this slice of pie,
we are happier than a bird with
a french fry.

Yesterday by the grace of God I made a peach-blueberry pie.  I have had this pie in mind for about a year.  Last year I had purchased canned peaches for such an endeavor but it never happened. Partly because I doubted that a pie made from canned peaches would match the platonic peach pie.





On Friday the Common Household Husband (CHH) and I made a trip in town to Penzey’s Spices, a place I had longed to go to.  I was delighted to replace some spices that had been bought about 10 years ago, just about when the current toddler-tyrant thought of riding the escalator to bring us all down with him.  Penzey’s is a good place to shop in defiance of that descent.  

Penzey’s reminded us that the CHH can’t smell much of anything these days.  He comprehends the stink of approaching fascism, but couldn’t register the heady aroma of garam masala, reminiscent of my Dad’s own delectable garam masala.  I bought a large jar of Penzey’s cinnamon, with current and future pies in mind.  The pie of the realm of God, if you will - already and not yet.


On Saturday I bought 12 not-quite-local peaches at the local farm up north. 

The peaches were from Chambersburg, PA, a spot dear to my heart because

my mother went to college there AND they produce marvelous peaches there.  


In one’s life one can hope to experience at least one delicious peach.  This year may be a calamity, but the peaches are marvelous this summer as we rage against the regime.  Some solace along the way.  On Sunday and Monday I had fresh peaches at breakfast and lunch.







On Tuesday the afternoon stretched before me.  All the ingredients were at hand.  The peaches were ripe.  I set to work.  Just as I finished making the bottom crust, with flour all over the floor,  the CHH arrived home unexpectedly early.  We both jumped with surprise.  Wisely, he beat a hasty retreat from the kitchen.


I defied the directions for this pie.  The recipe assumes there is peach juice, from canned peaches, and said juice is to be cooked on the stove with corn starch and cinnamon.  Nope, not happening.  Lattice crust?  Pfft!  No. I proceeded boldly with a spirit of non-cooperation, something that is required of me far more these days than I had imagined would be.



I asked the family if they thought the filling would fit in the pie pan.  Responses:  Older Daughter: “100%.  Anything extra will disappear.”  CHH:  100%.  The family are good estimators.  It fit just fine, but it was VERY soupy.  A bit did spill over during cooking but most of it was retained inside the pie.  Just as our Pennsylvania judges should be retained when we vote in November.





The juices are very near the top of the crust.
Think of the juices as PA judges.  We want
to retain them in the courts so that we can
continue to have the rule of law,
reproductive rights, fair elections, and
to avoid chaos.


Reader, the pie is fitting for our times.  It doesn’t look perfect, but provides a moment

to glory in the taste.  Things may feel like the end-times are coming, but for a few

minutes let’s forget the troubles of now and sit at the table with pie and steaming-hot tea. 

Stop by for a piece.  I predict it won’t be here for long.



Let us not die in bitterness of soul, never having tasted of good. (Job 21:25, in a chapter

bemoaning that the wicked go unpunished.)  Yes, the wicked go unpunished, but we

can rejoice that we have each other, that the earth continues to turn, and that there’s

a damn good peach crop this year.

The aftermath.
We ask the question: who will clean up this mess we are in?



​​Peach pie


(for peach-blueberry pie, add 1 cup blueberries, and perhaps subtract 1 cup peaches.)

 

Ingredients

1/2 cup sugar

1/4 cup packed brown sugar

4 to 7 cups sliced peeled peaches

Pastry for double-crust pie (9 inches)

3 tablespoons cornstarch

1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg (or leave this out and put in ½ tsp cinnamon)

1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon 

1/8 teaspoon salt

2 teaspoons lemon juice

1 tablespoon butter

 

 

Directions

In a large bowl, combine sugars; add peaches and toss gently. Cover and let

stand for 1 hour (or for as long as it takes you to make the pie crust

and roll out the bottom crust). (In my opinion for a 9 inch pie you

need way more than 4 cups of peaches.)

Line a 9-in. pie plate or cast iron skillet with bottom pastry; trim even

with edge. Set aside.   

Drain peaches, reserving juice.

 

In a small saucepan, combine the cornstarch, nutmeg, cinnamon and salt;

gradually stir in reserved juice. Bring to a boil; cook and stir until

thickened, about 2 minutes (OR LESS). Remove from the heat;

stir in lemon juice and butter. Gently fold in peaches. Pour into crust.

 

Roll out remaining pastry; make a lattice crust.  (OR use cookie

cutter to cut out shapes and place on top of pie, leaving spaces,

just like a lattice crust would have some spaces.)

 

Trim, seal and flute edges. Cover edges loosely with foil.

Bake at 400° until crust is golden brown and filling is bubbly,

50-60 minutes. Remove foil. Cool on a wire rack. If desired,

serve with vanilla ice cream.


Please note: Blogger was behaving horribly for this post. It took me nearly as long to post it as it did to make the pie.  Maybe it's time to look elsewhere for simple blogging software.