Frigate Bird

Day 311 of the "What are you reading, and why?" project, and, while I will no doubt learn what some other people are reading when I get to work today, I am posting early to share with you the frigate bird, an image sent by faithful reader Kim, related to yesterday's "no frigate like a book" Emily Dickinson-bookmark* and Marilynne Robinson-book-of-essays post.


The male of the species puffs itself up to mate.

Almost enough said.

However, you know me, so I will say a little bit more.  The frigatebird (one word in Wikipedia) is also sometimes known as the Man of War bird, which also relates to Robinson's observations and hopes that we will cease the relentless making of war machinery, and Pirate bird.  No more pillaging of the earth, please.

And, while I thought I would continue my Marilynne Robinson trend by reading Home, I am instead reading The Secret of Lost Things, by Sheridan Hay, that Christmas gift from Sarah.  Already I am in the bookstore, The Arcade, where the main character has just been hired, meeting the eccentric employees, and watching the owner price books and write the price in pencil lightly on the first page in his own distinctive handwriting.

The writer has lived in Australia and New York and worked in bookstores!

*Bookmark given to a high-school English teacher last night!  (Along with a listening ear, so she could vent a bit about the lack of reading going on in today's classrooms.  And I told her about Figment, for literary teens, which might also inspire non-literary teens a bit, eh?!)

And Happy Birthday, Jane Austen!!

Sisyphusian Endeavors

Day 309 of the "What are you reading, and why?" project, and Ben will now, once again, begin the task of reading and taking notes on The Myth of Sisyphus, an essay about life's absurdity by Albert Camus, because his already annotated copy of it was left behind at work...and, alas, lost.

As I understand Wikipedia's interpretation of Camus on this topic, Ben should have no real hope of changing his lot in life, even if he keeps losing his book, but he is allowed to contentedly accept that fate.  Hope would make him absurdly Kafkaesque.

Which reminds me of Sarah's wonderful description of a certain rare technology book's cover as Copernicus-esque.  Alas, that did not help our customer who was searching for a book on Copernicus.

And I am making another Sisyphusian stack of books to read, including The Secret of Lost Things, by Sheridan Hay, a "charming novel about the eccentricities and passions of booksellers and collectors," as the front flap tells me, a gift from Sarah.  Along with a beautiful holiday basket.  "I was feeling crafty," she said.

And all she got was this bookmark!