Nine weeks after the summer solstice, and it’s still summer, although the season seems to be growing a little stale.
Eight weeks after the summer solstice, we took my sister for a walk.
Seven weeks after the summer solstice, and we’re back to full-on drought.
Six weeks after the summer solstice, and we got to hike in the rain!
July was hot here. Of course, New England heat isn’t as hot as Utah heat or Arizona heat or the heat southern California had earlier in the summer, but we complain about it because we don’t expect it. Cold we revel in. Snow? Bring it on. But we don’t know what to do with heat but run our air conditioners and drive everywhere because it’s too hot to walk.
Not being a native New Englander, I walk in any weather and complain about both the heat and the cold. But more than the weather, I complain about driving. Man, do I hate driving around here. Except it does provide one of the only outlets for my creativity as it inspires myriad assemblies of swearwords never before heard by human ears. You know how in music there are only seven notes (plus sharps and flats) but an essentially infinite number of unique compositions? That’s how my swearing is when I’m behind the wheel. I’m a maestro of malediction. A virtuosa of vulgarity. An expert at expletives. It’s a skill that makes my children’s homeschool education rather more well-rounded than I would like and part of why we walk as many places as possible.
At any rate, here are the f***ing books I read during July:
Earlier this month, we visited Garden in the Woods in Framingham, Massachusetts, where we met some of my spouse’s former workmates. We had a picnic lunch and then walked around. It was hot and my kids were kind of complainy with Dad and his friends talking science all afternoon, but I did my best to ignore them all and enjoy the scenery, camera in hand.
We see a lot of plants and animals on our hikes, but we don’t need to head into the woods to see nature.
On a walk around our neighborhood this past weekend, we spotted this katydid standing on the sidewalk. I think it’s a Northern Bush Katydid (Scudderia septentrionalis).
It’s five weeks after the summer solstice, and while I’m not about to complain about the heat since so far we can still get by without running the air conditioner if we don’t mind sweating a bit (which we don’t…usually), I will admit that the lack of rain is starting to get to me.
I am not sure why I finished this book. Maybe it’s just because I love stationery and enjoyed the invitation card subplot. Because I wasn’t really engaged with the characters, most of whom I found flat, and much of what happened I found either overdone (like the documentary film thing and the points about immigration, which were excellent points but were handled in too heavy-handed a fashion to feel very poignant to me).
And the ending was a particular disappointment. Characters acted in ways that I found inconsistent, and the portrayal of seven-year-old Linno didn’t seem realistic to me. Based both on my experience of seven-year-olds and on the way James wrote her parents, I find it highly unlikely that Linno would have been aware of the America debate, much less reflecting on it to the depth that she did.
Two things I found interesting: Read More
This was the July selection for the SBC. It’s not too late to join the discussion! Visit us at our Goodreads group to discuss this or any of our other selections. August’s book is The Hundred Secret Senses by Amy Tan.
The Parasites was a thoroughly satisfying read for me. In ways it reminds me of Nancy Mitford’s The Pursuit of Love, a book that I did not like, but somehow I care more about du Maurier’s Parasites than I do any of Mitford’s characters.
Plot points are revealed quietly rather than lit with spotlights, to the point that there was one major relationship that I missed for a good chunk of the novel. I love this way of telling a story. The characters were annoying, selfish little people, but they were also so full of potential that I just couldn’t help hoping that they would change, just as I do with myself and every other human being I care about. Read More