Pre-Coffee!

 This morning I slung my backpack onto my back and headed out the door even before I had coffee! What could entice me to do such a thing? The library, where books were in and waiting for me, of course.

There are three different routes I can take to get there and back. They're all nice walks. I chose the longer route on the way there--the Donegal flags are still flying because they won the semi-final match in a rout  on Sunday and will be in the finals in a couple weeks.

You can see that it's a grey day--sky and sea--but there are lots of bright flowers around.

I took the shortest route on the way home and cut down the lane. By then I could hear my coffee calling me.

Here's what I picked up at the library:

I learned about the last one from Erika, at the BioArt Gal blog. In addition to her monthly reading wrap-ups, she posts pictures of her lovely artwork and beautiful surroundings. 

I got home and had my coffee. It was excellent. And now for some reading. I think I'll start with Termush because Bill will be reading it too. It's quite short. I hope you're having a great day!

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Yeah, I Remember

 Yesterday afternoon, we pushed open the door to the pharmacy and were surprised to hear this song playing:

Bill turned to me and started to ask if I remembered the song, but before he finished the sentence, he was smiling and had his answer. I guess it was the fact that I was lip syncing along that indicated that, yeah, I remember it.

Back in what seems like another life, when I was in grad school, I was always the first one in the department every morning. I could have bought a parking pass, but those were expensive and you weren't guaranteed a parking space even if you had one. Bill was working graveyard shift at the time, so every morning after work, he'd swing by the house, pick up our daughter and me, drop me off at the university, then drop her off at middle school. I'd let myself into the dark department, go into my office, get the coffee started in the little coffee machine on my desk, and start playing my favorite mix tape at the time. This song was the first one on the tape and I always started with that song and turned up the volume. Once or twice someone came in earlier than usual, but I could hear their key in the door of the department so I turned it down before they got inside. I'm not sure what it was about the song, but it was part of my morning ritual for a while. As Bill commented later, haven't heard the song in years. He also said he thought it was funny when he saw my response to the song. The woman at the pharmacy was pretty into it, too. And now, I can't get the song out of my head. 

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Random

The road to Falcarragh from the Local Link bus this morning:

The lane near our house, heading down towards the sea:

Finding a way to the light where the wall meets the sidewalk:

This morning, when we got back from Falcarragh and I looked at my email, I was pleased to see that persistence has paid off. For a couple of months I've been checking NetGalley daily to see if the new  Sophie Hannah Hercule Poirot continuation novel was available to request yet. Yesterday it was and I did. Today it was placed on my shelf. That'll be up next. I've read all of the others and I like them well enough. I went into the series expecting them to not be as good as the Queen of Crime herself, but I hoped they'd be good. And they have been, with the last one--a Christmas mystery--being the best of the bunch. That one was excellent and very funny. This one takes place on New Year's Eve in Greece. My first thought is that I'd rather have cold and snow for a seasonal mystery taking place at that time of year. I'll keep an open mind, though. It's going to be published here in October--not sure about timing in other countries.

We have a yellow warning for excessive heat coming into effect for Saturday and Sunday. Those of you in other parts of the world where it gets hot regularly will chuckle when I say that our expected high on both days is forecast to be around 27C/ 80F and the low 18C/64F. Don't get me wrong--that is too hot for me, but I was surprised to see the heat warning issued. It just doesn't get that warm here very often, so I suppose they thought it best to warn people. 

Donegal is playing in the semi-finals of the GAA (Gaelic Athletic Association) football championship on Sunday, so the flags are flying and that's what everyone is talking about. Some people are taking a day trip across the country, heading for Croke Park in Dublin to watch the game in person. Others have plans in place to watch in groups at home or in pubs. When we were getting off the bus, I told the driver that I hoped the match went well and didn't ruin his weekend (he'd make a comment to that effect to someone else earlier). He said he hopes so, otherwise we might not see him for a week. I can't imagine what it'll be like if they make it to the finals. I'm still fuzzy on the rules and all of that, but I've watched part of some matches in years past. I'll probably check the score at some point on Sunday. It's an interesting part of the culture.

Whatever you're doing today, I hope you have a good one!

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Don't Be Ridiculous!

 We had a couple of forms to print and Bill had a book in, so after lunch, we were heading out to the library--now just over a mile away instead of a 1-hour bus ride! I was thinking that it would be weird to be going somewhere without my backpack when I stopped and had a stern chat with myself. "Don't be ridiculous!," I said. "You're going to the library and you do not have to rush in and out because they've already been to lunch! You will be wandering around looking at books. Of course you need your backpack!" I was telling Bill about this when he said, " You'll leave with some books." I did.

Walking up the little lane was as pleasant as it always was. The plants had gotten bigger in the few years we've been gone, but otherwise, the landscape was much the same--grey sky, lots of green, and a touch of gold.

We printed the forms. Bill waited to get his book because the librarian was issuing new library cards to 2 wee people--and in Irish. I was pleased to see it. And what did we leave with?

Bill's book was this one, which I plan to read after he's done with it:

He requested it after we read this excerpt in The Guardian.

I saw this book, which Bill listened to on audio a year or two ago and really liked. It won the Booker Prize in 2023.

I'm not sure why, but I did not want to listen to it. I thought maybe I'd find it in a charity shop one day and pick it up. When I saw it on the library shelf, I thought I might as well bring it home and give it a try. As far as I know, it's a dystopian novel about an Ireland that has been taken over by a fascist government. It's an interesting idea, because Ireland has a very tiny right wing, and they're still considered fringe. They have no elected officials in the federal government, although they ran some candidates. However, they are more visible than they were when we moved here and I suspect it's a matter of time until they do have someone in the Dail (parliament).

Finally, I saw this and thought it was a very nice object--it's a Virago Modern Classic:

There are probably stories in here that I've read already, but that's OK.

I expect some of my requested books to arrive later this week or early next week. Now that we're mostly settled, regular trips to the library will be part of our routine. Yay!

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Unexpected Gems

 I adore the British Library Crime Classics series. They re-publish books by authors that aren't as well known as some of the big names in classic crime fiction, like Agatha Christie or Dorothy L. Sayers. I've discovered several authors that are new to me through these books and I'm always on the lookout for more, whether at the library or in charity shops. I rarely find these in charity shops, but I have found a few. My most recent find was this one, originally published in 1864. I haven't read it yet, but it's up next.

Most of the BLCC books I've seen have been later than the Victorian era, often Golden Age or later. The first one I ever found in a charity shop was Murder Underground by Mavis Doriel Hay. I'd never heard of her, but I took it home with me and looked her up. Turns out she only wrote 3 mystery novels, all published by BLCC. Bill got me the other two, Death on the Cherwell and The Santa Klaus Murder, online.

Late last year, unbeknownst to me, he was looking for more of these books on ebay and he found a woman selling a lot of 5 in Ireland. He bought them, paid for them, and assumed they'd be arriving pretty quickly. Then the woman emailed him and said that she couldn't find them, so sent him a refund. A few days later, she emailed again to say she'd found them. Bill was trying to figure out how to pay her again, since there was no longer a listing and he couldn't do it through ebay. He asked her to send him an invoice so he could do it that way. She told him to forget about it. She sent them. They arrived a day or two later. I was ridiculously excited to see what books I had and when I opened the parcel, I was thrilled! I hadn't read any of them before. I read them slowly and didn't gobble them down all at once. There were a couple of authors I knew of, but had only read one or two of their short stories.

sorry about the weird haze on the photo

Then there were the new-to-me authors.

Margot Bennett wrote less than a dozen novels, along with a few screenplays. In this book, The Man Who Didn't Fly, a small plane crashes in the Irish Sea. All on board are killed. There were four passengers booked for the flight, but it's soon discovered that only three boarded the plane. Who was the man who didn't fly and where is he now? 

Ellen Wilkinson was one of the first women to be an MP and she wrote The Division Bell Mystery after she lost her seat in 1931 (she won it back in 1936). It's a locked room mystery in which a financier is found dead in the halls of parliament. 

I loved all of these books and they all had interesting plots, characters, and/or structures, but the best one of all, and one of the best classic crime novels I've ever read (so far) is Verdict of Twelve by Raymond Postgate.

The mystery is really well done and kept me on my toes right up until the last paragraph. The structure of the book is the other thing that made this book vault up to the top tier for me. Almost all of the story is told through the thoughts of the jurors deciding the fate of the accused. The book opens with the jurors' stories being told--and some of these stories are gripping in and of themselves. Readers learn about their lives and histories, as well as their thoughts about being summoned to jury duty. Some of the stories are more detailed than others and some chapters focus on one juror in particular while others focus on a group. Once the jurors are sworn in, the trial gets underway and we again see things from the points of view of the jurors as the witnesses testify. Then we're in the room as they're deliberating and when the verdict is given. I won't say any more about the book because I wouldn't want to give even a hint of a spoiler. What I will say is, if you're a fan of classic crime fiction, this is a book I can highly recommend. It's so good.

I know there are more unexpected gems out there in the British Library Crime Classics collection and more are added regularly. I will probably be getting them from the library in future, because the two charity shops where I've found them are ones that I won't be going to anymore. But I do have a local library again now, so it's all good. In the meantime, I still have a couple of charity shop finds on my pile, one of which I plan to pick up tomorrow. 

Whatever you're reading, I hope it's excellent! Life's too short to spend any time reading books that aren't your thing. Remember, it's OK to DNF and move on to something more to your liking!😀😏📘

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My Reading in June

 I didn't read as much as I usually do, but June was a busy month. I had a mix of print books, e-books, and audiobooks as well as an assortment of genres--mysteries, short stories, a dystopia, poetry, and a play. At the beginning of the month, before and at the start of the moving process, as we were back and forth between dwellings, I read a few books that I knew I didn't plan to keep. These have already been re-donated to the charity shop and last time I was there they were gone, so it looks like they have new homes, which is great!

Simisola by Ruth Rendell (charity shop acquisition which has been donated)

This is the 17th Inspector Wexford novel and involves a young Black woman who is missing. This young woman is the daughter of Wexford's doctor. During the course of the investigation, Wexford encounters racism and misogyny, including his own. This wasn't the best Rendell book I've ever read and at times it felt a little dated, but it did deal with some important topics that, sadly and horrifically seem to have only gotten worse since the book was published. 

Behold, Here's Poison by Georgette Heyer (e-audiobook borrowed from the library BorrowBox site)

I was aware of Heyer as a romance novelist and that's not really my thing, so I'd never read any of her work. Then I discovered that she also wrote 12 detective novels. Classic mystery may be my very favorite genre, so of course I had to try one out. BorrowBox has several of these, so I am listening to the ones they have and will see about borrowing the rest in book form from the library. I'm enjoying the audiobooks--the narrator is Ulli Birve and she's pleasant to listen to. In this book, Inspector Hannasyde is investigating the death of a wealthy elderly man who is the head of an eccentric extended family when it's revealed that the cause of death was not his high blood pressure, but poison.

A Blunt Instrument by Georgette Heyer (BorrowBox e-audiobook)

Inspector Hannasyde investigates the death of a well-respected and much liked gentleman who met his end when he was hit with--you guessed it--a blunt instrument. As usual, there are some very weird characters involved. This was a pretty humorous book--in places I laughed out loud. I can't say that Heyer's mysteries are the best classics of the genre that I've read, but they are enjoyable and perfect to sit and listen to while I do some stitching.

Not the End of the World by Kate Atkinson (charity shop acquisition, re-donated)

I first came across Kate Atkinson's work in a charity shop several years ago when I picked up one of her Jackson Brodie novels, One Good Turn. I fell into that book and was gripped until literally the very last sentence. After that, I picked up any Kate Atkinson book I came across, whether in a charity shop or in the library. I still have a few of her books to read, a couple of them here at home, which makes me very happy indeed. This is her first collection of short stories and it didn't disappoint. They're quirky, weird, and wonderful. They are loosely connected and some characters from earlier stories appear in the later ones--the last story circles around and continues the first story.

The Spy Coast by Tess Gerritsen (charity shop acquisition, re-donated)

I bought this book because Bill read it last year and has been telling me ever since that he thinks I'd like it. I did. The story revolves around a group of friends and former colleagues who were all spies for the US. They're now retired and have settled in the same small community in rural Maine. However, one of them, Maggie, gets sucked back into a case that she thought was finished when the body of a stranger is found in her driveway. As the book goes on, the story flips from the present to the past--mostly Maggie's past--as we learn the details of this unfinished case. Bill is a big fan of Tess Gerritsen, and I did enjoy this book enough to read the next one in the series at some point. But in the past I started a different one of her books and stopped reading before I was done with page 2. The book opened with a very graphic description of surgery and I had no desire to read on. So I'd advise anyone thinking of trying one of her books to be aware that her books are apparently quite different with regard to the level of graphic content. I think she used to be s surgeon, so it makes sense that she would include graphic descriptions in her books and I'm not suggesting this is gratuitous by any means. It's just not my thing. But The Spy Coast wasn't like that at all. There was violence, of course, but it made sense within the context of the story and didn't make me queasy.

The Fell by Sarah Moss (e-audiobook from BorrowBox)

During the pandemic, a single mother and her son are in isolation because someone at the mother's workplace had COVID. As someone who has a need to be outdoors a lot, this woman is struggling and decides it'll do no harm to go for a walk one autumn evening at dusk. She knows the area inside and out, after all. She tells no one where she's going or even that she's going, but her neighbor, an elderly woman undergoing cancer treatment, sees her walking by. As darkness falls, this woman knows she should go home, but can't bring herself to turn around. When she finally starts for home, she falls and injures herself. Rescuers are called out, but will they find her in time? The story alternates between the points of view of the mother, the son, the neighbor, and one of the guys on the rescue team. This is a short book which I found gripping from start to finish.

Birnam Wood by Eleanor Catton (charity shop acquisition, will be re-donated)

There's been an earthquake in New Zealand and an area of the country is very difficult to access. In this area lies a farm, inherited by Lady Darvish. She and her husband decide to sell part of the land to a tech billionaire, Robert, who wants to build a bunker to survive climate catastrophe, among other things. He meets Mira, one of the founders of Birnam Wood, a guerrilla gardening collective who plant crops on unused land, with or without permission. Robert makes Mira an offer she can't refuse and some members of the collective move to this farmland--not yet officially Robert's and unbeknownst to the Darvishes--and start to plant things. One of the collective, who is just back from teaching overseas, is an aspiring journalist and he sees trouble ahead. There's clearly some shady stuff happening, but what is it and who's behind it? The story goes on from there. I must say, I was not expecting that ending!

The Murder of Roger Ackroyd by Agatha Christie (re-read in installments on the Serial Reader app)

One of Christie's most well-regarded works. As the title says, Roger Ackroyd has been murdered. Hercule Poirot, new to the village and retired to grow vegetable marrows, happens to be on the spot to investigate. One interesting facet of this book is the character of Caroline Shepherd, who may have been a precursor to Miss Marple.

This Crowded Earth by Robert Bloch (read on the Serial Reader app)

One of the fun parts about Serial Reader is finding these older dystopian novels that I might not want to sit down to read cover to cover, but are quite fascinating when read in small daily chunks. In this book, as the title says, there are too many people around. This is because nuclear weapons have ended the threat of war (!!!) and advances in food production and medicine mean that people don't get sick and die like they used to. But people are unhappy nonetheless. There's no room and no access to nature--or is there? Frank is slowly going mad at the situation and one day propels himself out of a window at his office. When he wakes up, he's in a mental hospital where there is green space everywhere. After a while, he starts to wonder why he is still there and why some other things are happening. The book goes on from there. The book was published in 1958 and I find it interesting to learn about what some people thought the future would be like.

The Anchorage by Bernard O' Donoghue (e-book from BorrowBox)

A poetry collection by an Irish author. Here's a blurb from the publisher:

'Poetry of how we shape what is lost or past, and how it shapes us. Bernard O'Donoghue investigates anchorage as a place we build for ourselves out of memory and story. The Ireland of his youth is rich in colour and precise in detail, and while he acknowledges the power of the past, he also brings it into question: 'I wish I'd never started on this story; / It may have been a dream, or maybe not . . .' O'Donoghue's informal and at times playful tone is that of a poet disarming themselves as well as their reader. Here are the paradoxes at the heart of human nature: what we are most attached to can be, in the end, what ties us down; the reluctance to return can arise out of the fear of finding ourselves locked out.'

The Brightening Air by Conor McPherson (e-book from BorrowBox)

In this play, we meet a brother and sister living in a crumbling house in rural Ireland with the housekeeper. A relative, who is a priest with unconventional views, shows up to reclaim the family property. A cast of supporting characters enters and exits the scene. Sad, but hopeful.

That's my June reading. Onward into July!

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Woolf-ish

 Last year, I found three Virginia Woolf novels in a charity shop. They all came home to live with me. Although I've read them all, it was a couple of decades ago, I think, so reading them again would be almost like reading them for the first time. I was especially thrilled to find two of them in the black Wordsworth Classics edition. I particularly like the introductions in those, which I always read after reading the book because of spoilers.

Later in the year, I was reading a different book that made reference to her final two novels. I was intrigued, so Bill got me a copy of both in one volume, which I read in the early autumn.

Just before I read these, I read Jacob's Room in installments on the Serial Reader app. 

A few months ago, as I started seeing various articles about the 100th anniversary of Mrs Dalloway, I decided it was time to start reading more of Woolf's novels. I planned to start with her first one, The Voyage Out, where Mrs Dalloway first appears. Then I realized that she only published 9 novels and if I bought that one, * I'd own 6 of them. Bill went looking around online and found the others, so now I have them all.

My plan was to begin with The Voyage Out and read the novel in publication order, not necessarily one right after the other, but maybe one or two a month. I figured that by the time I got to Jacob's Room and the last two novels, it will have been a year or more since I read them and she's the type of author that can be enjoyably re-read anyway. I was eagerly awaiting the arrival of my books so I could get started in May when suddenly we learned about the cottage and we were running around preparing to move and then moving. The books arrived on the day we went to view the cottage and things have been busy since, but when I unpacked books, I put all of these together on my dresser, ready to be picked up when the time was right. That time (finally) arrived the other day and I started The Voyage Out. I should probably finish putting away the last few things that I have left. But it's a beautiful rainy day, there's coffee in the pot, and I think it might be a perfect day to spend some quality reading time immersed in a good book. Yeah, that sounds right.

*Some of Woolf's novels and other writing can be found on Project Gutenberg and Faded Page (Canada) and probably elsewhere online. While I do read e-books from various places on my e-reader and/or phone, there are some books I'd prefer to read in physical format.

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In the Rear View

 We finally got to the end of another life chapter yesterday, as we went to Glenties one more time to meet with the letting agent so he could do a final walk through of the apartment and we could give him back the keys. It was a long day for us, involving 4 buses and a lot of waiting time, but we did errands and had some really enjoyable moments. One of those enjoyable moments was riding out of town on our third bus of the day. Even after a decade spent in rural Ireland, I am still amazed sometimes at how much bus service there is. Glenties was perfectly adequate in that regard, but not as good as the other places we've lived. Locals in every place we've lived have grumbled about the bus service, but we always tell them that where we came from, it wouldn't be possible to go anywhere on the bus because there simply weren't any buses. But I digress. 

As we were waiting for the letting agent, a new issue popped up in the apartment. It was lashing down rain and I started hearing drip, drip, drip near my chair. I looked around and saw water dripping from the edge of the window well. I had some paper towels, but they weren't going to be adequate. Of course, we had no bowls or pots left in the apartment and unlike every other place we've lived, this one had none of that stuff when we moved in, so I grabbed the crisper drawer from the fridge and placed it on the windowsill, leaving it sticking out a little. That worked. When I showed the letting agent, he seemed unconcerned. We'd already told him that it seemed like water was getting into the building somehow and he said he'd tell the owner. I suspect they need to do some work on the roof, but thankfully, this is not my problem.

By the time we left the apartment, it was still raining, but not as heavily, which we were grateful for. Still, we and our full backpacks were getting wet, so we sought shelter as best as we could. Because it was early evening and Monday, the one or two cafes in town were closed, so we couldn't spend some of our 2-hour wait time having coffee or anything. The grocery store was closing and they pulled down the gate that leads to the car park in back, leaving a small overhang above. This offered a little bit of protection from the rain so our packs didn't get any wetter. There we stood to wait for the bus. At different times, women stopped to see if we were OK because they were concerned seeing us there and wanted to know if we needed a ride. It was very kind of them.

The bus came, we got on, and took a ride to the next town on our itinerary, where we had another 2-hour wait. This time, we went into the Apache Pizza which was right at the place where the bus let us off. It used to be a different restaurant and is right next to where we used to live. We figured that, given the size of the old restaurant, there must be some tables where we could sit and get some supper, even though Apache is mostly a takeaway. The guy said he'd open up the dining area for us. So we sat there for over an hour and were thankful to be able to do so. Neither of us had pizza. Bill had fish and chips and I had a chicken thing. Both really hit the spot on the day. The bathrooms were not as clean as they could have been, but at least they were there. I thought I was locked in for a minute when I was leaving, because I tried a door and it was locked. Then I realized I was trying to open the wrong door and was relieved when it opened. The short hallway was totally dark, but I got out OK.😂

As we were waiting for the last bus of the day, a guy came to wait for the same bus. We struck up a conversation. He said he was from Africa (he didn't say which country in Africa) and has been in Ireland since 2023. He commented on how great the people and the landscape are--we wholeheartedly agreed--but the weather is still hard for him. He's used to a much hotter climate. We were the only three people on the last bus out of town. The driver is a guy we knew from our last time living in this village and he's great. He pulled up right at the entrance to our front walkway, took our backpacks down off the bus, and went on his way. We were so happy to be home. We got our damp, tired selves inside and I put the kettle on. It was almost 10:30 pm. It was one of those times when a big mug of strong, hot, black tea really hit the spot.

As we were on our way home, the rain stopped, the clouds parted a little, and the sun was setting. This seemed appropriate--not only was the sun setting on another day, but it was also setting on the almost three years we spent in Glenties, which had a few bright spots, but was often highly stressful. I wasn't sorry to leave.

Now we can concentrate on finishing the things that need to be done regarding the move. Today I closed the old electricity account. Tomorrow a new window is being installed in the bedroom. As always, I wait and see if action matches the words that are said to me. The window was supposed to be done before we started to move in, so I hope it actually gets done. I'm looking forward to getting all these little tasks done so I can settle into a new routine. 

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Woo-hoo!

 Every summer, I count down the days to the solstice. I know there's lots of summer left, but I get a psychological and emotional lift knowing that the days where I live have stopped getting longer and will, ever so slowly, start to shorten. This year we've been so busy that I haven't had time or headspace to be quite as obsessive about this as I usually am, but this morning I woke up knowing that I didn't have to go anywhere, remembered what day it is, and felt myself smiling. Happy, happy solstice, wherever you are!

There's still a lot to do, but yesterday I took a bit of a break. I was walking yesterday morning before breakfast and had just raced up a hill when I felt my calf cramp up and there was a bit of a burning feeling. The burn left after a while, but the muscle still feels like it's tensed up. I limped around for the rest of the day. We went to Falcarragh because their market day is Friday and there's a veg man there. It's a nice ride there--beautiful scenery. I didn't take any pics yesterday, but I have some from the same route, that I took a few years ago when we lived here the first time. These were taken in December 2021 out the bus window. It looks somewhat different in the bright sunshine of a hot June day, but you get the idea. It's beautiful whatever the season.

We got our veg and a few other groceries and I hobbled back to the bus stop with my heavy pack on my back. When we got home, I put the coffee on and decided not to do too much more in the way of unpacking and putting things away. I was even able to start a new book last night, which made me very happy indeed. I've been too busy during the day and too tired at night to settle in with a good book and I've missed that. I've been reading my Serial Reader installments every day and listening to audiobooks at night and that's been great, but I do like holding an actual book in my hand and turning real pages. Of course now I'd like to sit and finish the book this afternoon, but I will get some work done first. There will come a day when all of this is done and I'll be able to plan ahead for a day devoted to some reading projects I have planned, but that day is not today. Something to look forward to.

And now, it's time for more coffee. Enjoy your weekend, everyone!

 .

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Almost!

 We're heading towards the finish line with this move. Just about all of our stuff is in the cottage as are we. There are a few things left in the apartment--just small things and cleaning supplies. We'll be going back a couple more times to clean and move furniture back to where it was when we moved in. Yesterday, a friend came and loaded up his car. He and I came to the cottage and, while the coffee was brewing, we unloaded the car. Then we had some open-faced sandwiches with some homemade bread he'd brought with him, given to him by another of his friends. Before we poured the second cup, we walked up to the bakery where I got us some quiches for supper later in the day, some sweet treats, and a Cornish pasty for Friend, who loves the pasties from that place, and one for me to try. We came back, had that second cup of coffee with dessert, then went back to the apartment. Bill had an appointment and we got back just as he was leaving. Friend brought me to the bring bank so we could recycle our glass. Back to the apartment where there wasn't much else to pack into his car, but there was our very large jade plant, given to us when it was much smaller by a different friend. I'm glad we got to bring it. Now we have to figure out where to put it. When Bill returned, we headed back to the cottage. More coffee was made, the quiches were consumed, and the conversation continued to flow, as it had been doing all day long. In spite of the work and the disarray in the cottage, it was a fun and enjoyable day. We were quite tired by the end of it and were looking forward to today, when we could sleep as long as we wanted in the morning and could concentrate on creating some order out of the chaos, even if at a slow pace. LOL, as it turned out.

Bill and I were sitting at the kitchen table having a cup of tea and some more sweet treats from the bakery when we looked at each other and suddenly began having a conversation about the garbage in the apartment. We were both aware of the bag in the kitchen and we both intended to take it outside and bin it, but we realized that neither of us actually did it. I closed the windows in the apartment before we left and as it's upstairs, it tends to be warm in there anyway, but the weather is expected to get quite warm for here over the next few days, so it'll be unpleasantly warm and stuffy in there. We won't go back until next week and we couldn't leave it there until then. So to avoid having it smell up the place, I heated up my Cornish pasty at 6:30 this morning and had it for breakfast. It was really good and I'll probably get one again some day. We got on the bus at 8 to begin our journey to the apartment and back, using some of our wait time between buses to pick up some groceries. It was a very long day and sooooo nice to get home, even if home is a mess right now. Tomorrow, I tackle the kitchen!

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When the Circus Came to Town

 On Thursday morning, we had our large backpacks stuffed full of overnight essentials when we walked out the door to catch the bus. We were heading for our once and future village to get the keys, pay the first month's rent, and spend our first night in the cottage. Since we experienced the very late bus issue when we first attempted to go look at the cottage, we opted to take a different route this time--one that didn't involve buses originating in either Galway or Dublin and that were staying closer to the area. Fewer opportunities for roadworks, accidents, or other delays that way, we thought. This did mean that we'd have more time to hang around and wait, but that was OK--it was a pleasant day, there are nice areas to sit, and we brought books to read while we waited. We got to the small town where we used to live and settled in to wait. The bus we were waiting for was one we used to take all the time, but things were different now. The vacant hotel where we used to get the bus was now fully renovated and is no longer the bus stop. Instead, they've built a bus shelter down a short lane at the car park by the water. While we were sitting we saw other Local Link buses come and go. We also saw that the circus had come to town and was setting up in the car park. Our bus was scheduled to leave at 2:10. At 1:30, I started to wonder, because I realized that I hadn't seen the one that was supposed to arrive at 12:30 to drop people off. I walked over to the bus shelter, where a Local Link employee and the driver of another route were conversing. I asked if this was the spot where we should catch the Local Link 966. I was told that the following day, the bus would pick up and drop off in front of the hotel because of the circus. I wondered why he was telling me about the following day, but I simply asked, 'What about today?' I was assured that the bus would be at the very spot where we were standing at 2:10--probably even a few minutes early. You see where this is going. At around 2, we meandered over to the bus shelter where a couple of people were already waiting--elderly women with their shopping. More people showed up. The bus did not. Then we saw it coming. It proceeded to back into the far side of the car park, back up, and turn around, leaving the way it came and leaving us standing at the bus shelter. I left my pack where it was and started walking up the hill to Main St, figuring that if I could catch the driver, I could tell him/her that there were people waiting at the bus shelter. But as I was on my way, I saw the bus drive past. It was gone.

I went back to the shelter and called Local Link, telling them that they'd stranded several people and asking what was up. The very nervous fellow asked me to wait a minute, then came back and read what was clearly a script about how the bus stop location would be changed from midday Thursday through Sunday. I told him that there was no notification of this on the website, nor any signs in the bus shelter itself. Furthermore, I said I was told by two employees that the bus would pick us up at that spot at the regular time and that the driver was in the vicinity and would have seen us waiting before turning around and driving off. He asked if he could call me right back. Needless to say, I was unsurprised when I never heard from him again.

In the meantime, a guy showed up and tried to tell me that the bus hadn't left and it would be coming. I explained to him that it was gone and all the rest of it. He was angry. He called someone he knew to complain and then called Local Link. The woman he spoke to at Local Link told him that they put a notice on Facebook. He told her he wasn't on Facebook. The two elderly ladies got up to peer at the schedules on the shelter. They were waiting for a different bus that had already left from a different location. There was a guy there who called a friend and asked for a ride and he took the two ladies, too, which I though was nice. They were all going the same way. That left 4 of us--me, Bill, the guy who insisted the bus was coming, and a frail looking elderly gent with his shopping. The latter didn't seem to understand what was happening at first and when he realized he would have to find alternate transport was looking in his wallet, presumably to see how much cash he had for a taxi. I called a taxi guy we used to rely on in the past, but he was out of town on another job, so couldn't come. The four of us discussed our destinations and it turned out that the frail gent was to be dropped off on the way to our destination and the other guy, who I will call Bob, was going in the same general direction, not too far out of the way. He suggested we share a cab and he called a taxi driver he knows, named Frank. Frank was available and said he'd be there in 20 minutes. I called the letting agent to say we'd be a little late and he said that was fine because he had to go on the Irish language radio station at 3, so we should just let him know when we arrive. 

Frank showed up and as we were putting our packs into the boot of his car, the same Local Link employee that assured me the bus would be picking us up there at 2:10 rushed up with signs he'd quickly made on notebook paper with a pink highlighter, explaining about the changes. Better late than never. We squeezed into the taxi. Frank started to drive away. Then he asked, 'Didn't you two used to live here in that little place on Main St.? Well, yes indeed we did. I have no recollection of ever speaking to Frank before, but there it is. As we were on our way, Bob and Frank, having known each other for a while, were chatting about people and places they've known. Bob said, 'Hey, remember Peter Something?' Frank said he did and asked where he's living now. 'He's dead,' Bob replied. 'Ah, he's crossed the River Jordan,' said Frank. I was sitting there thinking how strange and yet kind of funny the whole situation was turning out to be (the part about poor Peter Something being dead was not funny, but sitting in the cab the conversation and the situation seemed kind of surreal). The frail gent got dropped off and seemed very happy. A little further down the road, we got dropped off and waved good-bye to our new acquaintances. A couple minutes later, just as I hit send on the message telling the letting agent we were there, he pulled up. We went inside and did what we had to do. It was an unexpected sort of day, but interesting. And we will laugh about it all for some time to come, I expect.

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Chaotic Cottage

 Well, not that it was needed, but yesterday was irrefutable proof that our spring chicken days are long behind us. It's all well and good to laugh about buying 10 new-to-us books at the start of a move, but when hauling boxes, bags, and backpacks full of books down two flights of stairs over and over again, things get real. The yarn was easier--place in bin bags, stand at the top of the stairs, give the bag a push and watch it tumble down. Whether easy or less so, yarn, books, and almost everything else is now residing at the cottage, where all is chaos. I did get the boxes and bags of kitchen stuff into the new kitchen. Most plants are in a windowsill. The rest is in one of the bedrooms waiting to be sorted and put away. There's a little bit left here with us in our soon-to-be-vacated apartment. We'll go back to the new place for a few days in the week ahead to start getting things put away and organized. One bedroom is having a window replaced--not sure exactly when--so I'm trying to keep the area around that clear. I'm looking forward to being there, but we'll have to be here in the apartment for a few days too because we have appointments to attend. But the end of June will bring with it the end of our time in this town. I don't anticipate being back.

In spite of the seemingly endless trips up and down the stairs yesterday, it was a nice day. In between the stairs, loading, and unloading, we had cups of tea and a visit to a bakery/cafe. The time spent with friends made it seem less like work. We shared a lot of laughs. We sat at our large kitchen table and I refilled tea mugs while our friend cut slices of really delicious apple pie. I was reminded of how fortunate I am to live where and how I do and to have wonderful people in my life. 

Nevertheless, by the end of the long day we were wiped out. I dragged myself to bed just after 10 and fell asleep at once. This is extremely rare for me and usually involves being unwell. I woke up at 2:30 feeling disoriented and somewhat confused until I got my bearings--that's more my go-to-sleep time than my waking time. I couldn't fall back to sleep for a couple of hours, but eventually I did. Today we're stiff and feeling some aches and pains, but it feels good to have most of our stuff in the new place. We took today off and tomorrow we'll get some stuff done inside while it lashes down rain outside. 

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Willpower? Never Heard of It!

 At least when it comes to books, that is! We went yesterday to get the keys to our new cottage. There was a bit of drama (it was funny, not alarming), which I will tell you all about soon. Because of the bus schedules, we knew we'd be staying overnight there, so we stuffed our large backpacks with overnight essentials and headed out. This morning, with empty backpacks, we caught the bus at 8, got to Letterkenny at 9:15, and filled the time until 11, when the bus back to our apartment left. At 10, the charity shop right by the bus stop opened. We arrived shortly thereafter, since we had the time. Naturally, I was unable to prevent myself (although I didn't really try) from making a beeline to the back of the shop where the bookshelves are located. This charity shop is always asking for books and they sell a lot of them. Probably the low, low price of 5 for €1 has something to do with it! Before I knew it, my hand was reaching out for books and adding them to my growing stack. I handed one to Bill because I knew he liked that author. He found a few more. I was going to leave one on the shelf and get it from the library at a later date--The Spy Coast by Tess Gerritsen. Bill read it and was surprised that he loved it and he keeps telling me he thinks I'll love it, too. He told me I might as well just get it, so, you know, in order to keep the husband happy, I did. 😁 Between the two of us, we walked out with 10 books. You may be thinking, "But you're moving and already have piles of books to shift from one dwelling to another!" You'd be right! But what's 10 more among friends? I came home and packed them right away--except for Not the End of the World by Kate Atkinson. It's her first short story collection. I love Kate Atkinson's work and a short story collection is perfect to be reading while we're in the midst of this move. Luckily for us, a couple of friends are coming tomorrow to help us move things, so we won't have to make a gazillion trips on the bus lugging bags of books. We don't have any furniture to move, so other than the large slow cooker, the books are the heaviest items we're hauling.

We're going to be on the road early tomorrow morning. Tonight we're bringing as much as we can down the two flights of stairs and piling it in a way that doesn't block the door. That will make it easier in the morning. I think we're having a quick cup of coffee first. I'm gonna need it!

Hope you have a great weekend!

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Ripeness by Sarah Moss

 Ripeness

by Sarah Moss

Published by PanMacmillan/Picador

ISBN 9781529035490

This magnificent book takes readers back and forth in time between rural Italy in the 1960s and rural Ireland in the present day as we read about Edith at different points in her life. Edith is a bookish person who grew up on a farm in England and is excited to have earned a place at Oxford University. Her father and grandmother, with whom she lives on the farm, are supportive even as some of the locals consider her a bit uppity. Her mother comes and goes (for understandable reasons) and is against her going to Oxford without taking a year off first to travel first to Italy, then to France, arguing that this would not only improve her language skills, but also give her a wider experience. She makes arrangements for Edith to stay with some friends in each country. Edith goes along with this plan, which gets derailed when she is sent to a villa to be with her older sister, who is unmarried and pregnant. The sisters are quite different--Edith is into words and books while her sister, Lydia, thinks and responds to things in dance. When the story moves to rural Ireland, we're with the 70-something Edith as she goes about the life she's built there, having moved to Dublin as a married woman and going rural at a later point in her life. The chapters of the book alternate between these two settings and to some extent, two Ediths. It's not that she's completely different, but as with all of us (hopefully) with age comes wisdom, often hard-earned, and we inhabit ourselves differently at different times of our lives. This is illustrated beautifully in this book, both in the characterization of Edith at these points in her life, but also in the structure of the book.

For instance, in the Italian sections, Edith is narrating and uses 'I' a lot. It's clear that she is explaining both the events that occurred and what she felt about them. In the Ireland sections, there's an omniscient narrator telling readers what Edith did, said, and thought about. It was an interesting contrast for me as I read. I felt almost like Edith was observing herself and sharing her observations. It's particularly interesting because of her status as a blow-in to rural Ireland. As she acknowledges, she will never completely fit in, will never truly belong--her interactions are almost all performative in some way. The latter is true for everyone to some degree, but as a blow-in to rural Ireland myself, and having been here for over a decade now, I've had time to see how much more it's the case now for me. I can also say that Sarah Moss captured the dynamics of a village in rural Ireland brilliantly, in my opinion. She was spot-on in her descriptions of the kinds of interactions that occur.

In addition to this being a gripping story, I could relate to so much in the book. Themes of belonging or not, who gets to be part of a community, what it means to be a family, what it means to be an immigrant, gender expectations, generational trauma, finding solace and joy in books, and so much more are woven together throughout this excellent book. I highly recommend it. 5 stars  

This book was recently published, which is why I'm posting this now. I read it back in January and I'm thinking that it's definitely worth a re-read at some point. I thank NetGalley, the publisher, and the author for a DRC.

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Isn't It Funny?

 Isn't it funny how life unfolds? Forty years ago (!!!) when this video was released, I was in my early 20s, Bill and I were living in New Hampshire, we'd been married for 5 years, and MTV was a cool new thing. We would have seen this video back then, not paying much attention. Little did we know that a few decades later we'd be standing next to Bad Eddie (the boat that gets struck by lightning in the video) on 'our' local beach, living in the area where it was filmed, and looking at Mt Errigal as we walked to the library or the grocery store. I don't know what I thought my life would be like back then, and I've been surprised many times. I did know what I didn't want my life to be like and happily, I've been mostly successful in that regard. I wonder what will happen next.

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Nearing the End

 Here we are with just one day left in May. Last year, May seemed to be endless. Not so this year as it zipped right by. Now we're just a few weeks away from solstice, which is always a happy time for me as we start losing daylight after that. Just a few seconds at first, but we're far enough north that it picks up speed before too long. I always feel better after solstice, even though there's plenty more yucky summer to come. The fireweed should start blooming soon and I'll watch it bloom up the stem as we get closer and closer to autumn.

It's a bank holiday weekend here and the bar has a noise pollution event scheduled for tomorrow. Last weekend we had some pretty heavy rain off and on through the weekend, so the party people weren't outside and it was fairly quiet. This weekend will have the possibility of rain, but probably not enough to keep the drunk people inside. 

As I shove my ear plugs in, I'll remind myself that our time grows short and we're nearing the end of our time here. We go on Thursday to sign the lease and get the keys to the cottage. We'll most likely be going back and forth until the end of June, taking a little at a time. We've done three visits to three different charity shops over the past couple of weeks while we were doing other errands, making donations at each one. We'll be doing one more Donegal town library run on Tuesday to return the books we have checked out and while there we'll stop at the Animals in Need charity shop to drop off a few more things. I'm reading some books that I bought in previous charity shop visits with the intention to re-donate them. Yesterday I finished The Colony by Audrey Magee. I wasn't sure whether I'd like it, but for 20 cents it was worth a try and I loved it. It was definitely a happy surprise. The Animals in Need shop only wants novels, so I'm focusing on those. After Tuesday, our next library visit will be at our once and future local library, only a walk away.

I borrowed the e-audiobook of The Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens so I would be sure to have something I know I'll like on my mp3 player as we're going back and forth between old and new dwellings. I've read it before and adored it, so I know I won't be disappointed in the plot. It's over 32 hours long, so I won't run out of listening material. I'll be finishing an audiobook tonight and starting another one, which I may well finish before Thursday, so I wanted to have something long and enjoyable to listen to. And Pickwick Papers is funny, too, which will be just the thing when I'm tired and ready to relax. 

I'm trying to use up food from the freezer because one of the drawbacks of the cottage is the small under-counter refrigerator with a tiny freezer compartment instead of the large (for Ireland) fridge/freezer. When we've been there a while we'll decide if we want to get a small tabletop freezer or whether we can make do. I still find it amusing that when they have a huge fridge/freezer, often with an ice maker, they call it an American-style fridge/freezer. Appliances tend to be smaller here. 

So we're both looking forward to getting there. Still a way to go yet, but at least we'll be on our way soon! I hope your weekend is peaceful and pleasant.

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The Disrespected River

 I woke up to a beautiful grey sky this morning. Before long, I saw sprinkles on the skylight. It's cooler than it has been and I was able to close a window, which helps keep some of the noise out. All of this makes me enormously happy. The weekend is supposed to be a few degrees cooler still and we can expect heavy rain. We need the rain. It's been unusually warm for the time of year and day after day, week after week of bright blue sky. The risk of gorse fires has been high and the river on one side of us is running very low. Now all the garbage people throw into it is more visible. Bill saw one of the women who works at the bar cleaning up the area where the smokers hang out. She picked up a plastic cup and tossed it over the wall into the river. It probably got stuck in the greenery on the riverbank, but will make its way to the river eventually. The poor river is so disrespected. 

It's been quite a show over there in recent weeks. One evening, I was making tea and while I was waiting for the kettle, I was looking out the window. I did a double take then sputtered to Bill, 'Droopy is taking a piss over the wall!' Droopy--no idea what his actual name is--is the guy who runs the bar and lives above it. We call him Droopy because there is always a risk that his pants will end up around his ankles at any time. I've seen more of his rear end than I'd like, I can tell you that, and on this night, he was displaying the other side. I get it that sometimes nature calls at inconvenient moments and one must take the call, but was it really necessary to do this outside in view of Main St, near an entrance to a business where people are going to eat and drink? Presumably there are bathrooms inside and the guy's own apartment is just upstairs. The tourists have started arriving--can you imagine being a tourist and deciding to stop in there only to find some guy pissing into the river? Personally, I'd be turning around and going elsewhere. Then again, I live here and I'm turning around and going elsewhere. 

Not long after that, it became clear that they were having wastewater issues once again. A few times over the past few months, a tanker sort of truck with hoses and things dangling everywhere has backed into the driveway, guys have jumped over the wall and peered and poked into an opening in the riverbank which provides access to the wastewater pipe. They've run the big hose there and turned on the water at high pressure. This time there were no professionals in sight, just handyman types who have been around doing various odd jobs. They poked. They prodded. They peered into the depths. They wiped their brows. They stood there. They poked, prodded, and peered some more. Then one guy donned a cloth mask, like those we used to wear during the pandemic. He pried up a manhole cover in the driveway, got on his knees, stuck his face very close to ground level, and with a small spade, began to shovel up mounds of white stuff--shovelful after shovelful. I was thinking that it would be a good idea for him to have more than a cloth mask on his face, but what do I know. The other guy stood on the riverbank and watched. They left for the day. The next day, they were back. They started digging a trench on the riverbank to expose the pipe. Then they got to the concrete cube that's part of the bridge. They had a jackhammer and some kind of saw to cut through the concrete. One guy wore goggles. The other had his cloth mask on again. Clouds of concrete dust were billowing into the air. We went out that day and when we returned, they were messing with the pipe. I shudder to think about the quality of the job they did. I'd expect wastewater leakage from the pipe, which is still exposed. I don't know about these kinds of jobs, but I do think that if it was me, I'd want professional people doing the work. Yes, these guys were probably cheaper, at least in the short term. But when there's more trouble, Droopy might wish he'd had a more professional job done. Or maybe he just doesn't care.

All I know is that it's depressing to watch people disrespecting the river the way they do. Smokers toss their butts over the wall, people throw trash into the river, and who knows what kind of wastewater is entering the ground and eventually the water. When we first came to Glenties, someone joked with us that we'd see salmon leaping out of the river. If there were salmon, I'm sure they'd be far too ill from human pollution to leap anywhere. It's sad.

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An Unexpected Turn of Events

 It's been a strange week and a half here. It all began last Tuesday. We were planning our usual trip to Donegal town to return and pick up books at the library. I had a heavy pile to carry back and I was all packed and ready to go when I checked the 'real time information' page to see what time the bus was expected. I tapped on the map and there was no bus icon on it. Back to the home page of the website. I scrolled down and saw that the service for that day and time had been cancelled due to an incident. That's all it said. So I unpacked my backpack and went back to the task I was engaged in before all that happened, which was a discussion about a property for rent. The letting agent sent me a video. We felt it was worth looking at, so I clicked around, found the bus times that would work to get us there and back, and made an appointment for Thursday. We'd be going through Letterkenny with a little over an hour between buses so we decided to take the opportunity to bring books and a couple other items to donate to the charity shop right by the bus stop. We each had a backpack full of books, so when we got there the charity shop was the first stop. Our bags now empty, we headed for the bookshelves. The backpacks did not stay empty for long, but at least we donated more books than we bought (on this day, at least).

Then we went outside, ate the sandwiches we'd brought, and waited for the bus that would take us to our destination. We hoped it would be on time because we were only going to have about half an hour in the village before we'd have to get back on the bus to Letterkenny. If we missed that one, we'd miss the last bus back home. There we were, eagerly looking at the roundabout to get a glimpse of the bus we were waiting for. It was 5 minutes late, then 10, then 15. The bus we rode into Letterkenny on was due to leave in 10 minutes by that point, so we started talking about what we should do. There was another bus to the village that was due at about the same time, but there was no sign of either of them. Twenty minutes late. The bus we rode in on appeared. We decided to get on it and go home. When it pulled away from the bus stop, one of the buses we could have taken was 30 minutes late and the other 25. Presumably, they showed up at some point, but given how late they were and with the potential for further delays along the way, we simply wouldn't have had any time to look at the place. 

On the bus home, I messaged the guy we were supposed to meet in two ways, but there was no response. I sent messages to friends who wanted to know how it went after we'd looked at the place. One of them was out of town, but replied immediately, saying that he was coming back that day and he'd drive us over the weekend or Monday. I was chatting with another friend. Still no reply from the letting agent. Then we were in the middle of nowhere and I lost my phone signal. When we got home, it was the same time we were supposed to be at the cottage starting to look around. I called. The letting agent was very nice and immediately asked me when I wanted to reschedule. I explained about our friend's offer. The letting agent chose the Monday and said to just give him a call to let him know what time. I worked it out with our friend later that day and confirmed with the letting agent on Friday morning.

On Monday, our friend came for pastries and coffee, but we left in plenty of time and were there early, as expected. I'd brought the heavy pile of library books I'd been unable to return the week before and dropped them off in the book drop at the library there. Then we went to look at the cottage. Letting agent had to rush off to do a slot on the local Irish language radio station about the insanely difficult rental market, so Bill and I stood in the front chatting with our friend for a while about the place and what we all thought of it. Then we came home. Later, I sent the letting agent a message saying we'd take it. 

We've been wanting to find another place to live for quite some time and have been actively looking for months. We were close to viewing a tiny apartment in a town that looked great, but the owner told Bill that some guy had contacted him and offered 'crazy money' so he was going to come look at it. Given the tight market, finding a place is difficult even with insanely high rents, so this opportunity came completely out of the blue. This is a letting agent that we've dealt with before and the cottage we'll be renting is in a village we've lived in before. The rent is not obscene for what it is, because it's in a rural area which isn't as desirable to most people as other places are. However, the bus service there is excellent and far better than what we have in our current town, so we'll be able to go places much more easily than we can now. There's a library, which is a big deal for us. A beach is just a few minutes walk away. It's a more scenic area. I love the cottage. There is no bar nearby and no obvious place for people to hang out and party. Our days of hearing bad covers of bad country western music performed by talent-free individuals at live noise pollution events is coming to an end. The very last straw was when someone--perhaps the Tidy Towns committee--placed benches on the bridge over the river. They wisely bolted them down. If they hadn't, it was only going to be a matter of time before someone tossed them off the bridge and into the river. These benches happen to be right under our window. I told Bill at the time, 'There's the new hangout/party spot. There are going to be even more drunks out there yelling, shrieking, laughing hysterically, and being obnoxious.' And so it is. Last weekend I was giving thanks for good friends who send ear plugs as I shoved them into my ears to try to get some sleep. The party went on until after 2 am.

So we've paid our security deposit for the cottage and given our notice here. I can't quite believe it--it's all so sudden. I'm grateful.

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Subjective

 Here we are, one week into May. My usual issues have arrived right on schedule, so many days aren't pleasant, but I know to expect the stuffy head, scratchy throat, brain fog, aches and pains at this time of year and prepare myself as best as I can. Thankfully, most days I've been able to read. I've also got a couple of library e-audiobooks downloaded and a fairly mindless crochet project on the go, so I can listen and stitch most nights. I've been crocheting for over four decades and I think I could do it in my sleep--and it helps with the ache in my hands. 

Last week, I had a pile of books to pick up at the library, one of which was a novel that both Bill and I were looking forward to reading.

I read about it in a bookish blog post several months ago and knew I wanted to read it. I sent the post to Bill and he wanted to read it. The library didn't have it and I wondered whether it was published here yet, since the blog post I read was written by a US based blogger. I kept checking and a few weeks ago, there it was in the list of new books. I placed my request and it arrived surprisingly quickly. Since I had a stack of other books to read, Bill went first with this one. He was immediately disappointed, but hoped it would pick up for him. It didn't. He grumbled about the book a little as he was reading and finally gave up at around the halfway point. I immediately took it, started reading, was hooked, and after a couple of hours was beyond halfway. By last night, I was deciding between going back to the book and finishing it or listening to some of my audiobook and crocheting. I chose the latter and finished this book early this afternoon. I loved it. 

The book is narrated by Nonie (Norah) who lives with her sister, Bix, her father, and assorted others who have created a community in New York's Museum of Natural History, in what they call The World as it Is, after climate change catastrophes. Nonie has a sixth sense about water and storms and keeps a logbook, excerpts of which are presented at the beginning of each section. These and her memories of stories her mother and others told her about The World as it Was give readers a sense of how the situation came to be what it is. As events unfold, it becomes necessary for Nonie, Bix, Father, and a family friend, Keller, to leave the home they've built in order to get out of the city and make their way to a farm jointly owned by Nonie's mother and aunt. Most of the book is about their journey, with memories filling in some of the backstory. 

This is my kind of book. People are thrust into new ways of life and have to figure things out. New societies and cultures are created. Lessons are learned. This is the kind of dystopian novel that I love. Perhaps this has something to do with my frequent puzzlement about people thinking that the way most of us in wealthy nations live will just go on and on, not being able to imagine anything else. In these novels, denial is no longer an option. At one point in the novel, Nonie's parents are telling her about a photograph of her mother on one of their last trips together before planes and cars were no longer in use. One of them commented that deep down they knew it would all end one day, but they tried to pretend otherwise. Bill said the book was too slow for his taste and that 'nothing happened.' After he set it aside, he found that many people who reviewed the book felt the same. I did not have that experience at all. I never felt things were moving too slowly plotwise. The pace felt quite appropriate, in fact. After all, in a world where electricity and motorized locomotion are no longer things, the pace of life will be slower. Also, the characters were dealing with new situations every day and trying to figure out new ways to do things. That doesn't happen at breakneck speed. As for nothing happening, I could not disagree more. Everything was happening. The ground they built their lives on was disappearing, both figuratively and literally. New communities were being built. People were dying. New people were being born. People tried to preserve knowledge as they could even as they were relying on old knowledge that previous generations had preserved for them. 

In any case, I thought the book was a page-turner and never felt like it got bogged down at all. I wanted to know what was going to happen. I was happy to immerse myself in both the plot and the writing. So there you have it. After waiting for months, Bill was very disappointed with this book while I thought it was definitely worth the wait!

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