Tag Archives: Science

Saunders, Catton, Bryson

I’ve been having one of the most challenging and exciting and dorkful reading life lately. At the heels of the first installment of The Annotated TBR, I started reading The Luminaries by Eleanor Catton and couldn’t help but dive into A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson. And, because both books were (or either of them was) ridiculous for me to transport that one time I had to show up for a meeting, I also started George Saunders’ much-lauded, was-everywhere-in-2013 Tenth of December collection. I’m having so much fun. [Continue reading.]

08232013: Mood swings

Recently, I’ve shyly crawled toward reading material that’s not precisely comfortable. I’m all too aware how my mind has refused to be biddable these past couple of months, but now it’s yearning for a challenge—almost missing having to be told to fucking stay still and focus, because there is much goodness to be had. Which is why I’ve been reading a re-issued novel about I-still-don’t-know-what-but-I-like-it-anyway, and a virtual textbook on the history of humourism. Welcome, dorks. [Continue reading.]

The world won’t stop hovering

Very late last night, right at the heels of some kaiju-attack-inspired wishful thinking re Monday, I realized why I’ve been so resistant to Susan Cain’s Quiet. It never really made sense to me, why I wasn’t all snuggly with the book, when it could very well be a manual against (erm, for?) the world. This book was on my side—who loathed the fact that the world won’t calm itself enough, won’t shut the fuck up, more than I did? Sure, my shorthand was to liken it to the Chicken Soup books—a whole lot of rah-rah encouragement without a lot of meat behind it; distressingly patronizing as though it very well knew that introverts will always be goddamned little weirdos—but I couldn’t quite quantify all that grump. The answer, it struck me, lay in Monday and all its myriad ills. [Continue reading.]

Bibliophilic housekeeping, plus Lethem and Munro—and beetles

It’s like musical goddamned chairs, my mood and my reading material—one moment I’m all eager for awkward crushing (Rainbow Rowell), the next I’m hungry for some straight-up murder shenanigans (Gillian Flynn); one day I’m bingeing myself with the best of historical romance (Courtney Milan, Mary Balogh, and so on) and before that day even ends I’ve tossed the ebooks into a dark corner of my hard drive to reach for comic books with lots and lots of explosions in them. [Continue reading.]


Dawkins wants me to raise a skeptical child—yes, I’d like to keep this in my shelves, within easy reach of some little monster, eventually. A child who believes in fact, embraces speculations, but relies on logic, evidence, and common sense—without sacrificing an imagination that’s the very foundation of these vast myths he’s dismissively disassembled. A child who’d rather lose himself in the wonder of reality, one ceaselessly amazing because it what is true. (It’s why I like science so much: It assuages your curiosity, and it keeps reminding you how everything makes sense, because the world has rules—serendipity that abounds, the awe-inspiring logic of different grades of intricacy.) [Continue reading.]

My first dip into Dawkins

Seems handy to keep a notebook ever-ready when reading this book. It threatens to rock my world, yes, it does. Anyway. Have taken a peek at The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins [which I discovered through this post by Laura of Laura’s Musings], because this is how I like to spend my weekends. Knee-deep in atheism […]

What, more sex?

Some stranger—white shirt, penny loafers, jejemon hair, a damned scapular around his neck—has sat in front of me, in a table I hadn’t realized was meant for sharing, effectively forcing me to concentrate on my laptop, to pound this blog post out. Okay, it’s all good, we’re getting somewhere. He’ll stay within two feet of […]

November So Far

I’m sure that y’all know by now what an inherently exciting person I am—as evidenced by the past weeks of silence that involved not so much books as work shenanigans, playing a PC game, mourning the minutes of Downton Abbey, and—certainly a favorite—drooling on any horizontal surface at any and every available opportunity. I still […]

“I couldn’t sleep, and so I read…”

“I couldn’t sleep, and so I read, but the novels I was reading only stimulated me more, and I would find myself wandering around the house with rushing fragments of Dickens, Austen or the Brontës whirring in my head. It is tempting to think of this form of insomnia, the inability to fall asleep, as […]

Finally: Goodbye, July!

I. Well, that month was particularly ghastly—mostly because Real Life came a-calling. And when it does that, things go very silent around here. But not just in the blog, mind you—but my reading life as a whole. No, that wasn’t a reading slump—that was Real Life wresting this little joy away from my cold, hard […]