Book Nerd

12-14-13

Yesterday at work I was called the "book nerd" by my supervisor because I was gushing about a book I bought on Monday at the Dawn Treader Book Shop (a shop which I mentioned only a few posts ago). I thought it was a rather silly thing to say, considering I've been working the stacks of a library, but apparently not everyone who works there is a bibliophile. One of them explicitly told me that he hates books, but I can never tell when that guy is being serious, so who knows.

This time I bought a book by Ray Bradbury and a copy of Second April, one of the books of poetry published by Edna St. Vincent Millay. She's one of the Modernist poets I actually enjoy. Why, I'm not sure, but her poetry has a strong voice and good rhymes and are surprising.

Anyway, why was I gushing? The copy I bought is from 1921, which is the year that book was published. Its cover has texture, and the binding is relatively strong. I mean, it's starting to disconnect, but seriously, the book is from 1921 and I got it from a secondhand bookstore.

My 1921 copy of Second April

But that's not even the most exciting part. No, right inside, underneath the penciled price from the current shop, is an inscription written in what looks like permanent marker.

Here's the inscription, but you can't really read it because it's backward.

Since it's backward (thanks Photo Booth) and hard to read anyway, here's what I deciphered: 

'[J?]oyce to D.orothy 

Sept. 8, 1925

"Her twenty-third

-consecutive birthday"'

This book was originally a birthday present. I think that's pretty neat, to feel somehow connected to previous readers and to feel connected to history in general. I mean, Millay was considered rather scandalous, you know. Go read the Wikipedia article if you doubt me. And they were reading this while she was still writing. That's really cool.

BUT THAT IS NOT THE REASON I WAS GUSHING. No, I love the paper the poems are printed on. No joke. It was handmade. You can still see the lines from where the paper dried on a rack, the edges aren't as even as machine-made pages. It is a work of art.

If you click on the picture, you might see the lines too.

I see it now whenever I look at a page, just because I'm aware of it now. (If the picture doesn't work, just trust me on this. I can see the lines in the picture, but I also know what I'm looking for/at.) 

I would never have noticed that about the pages if I hadn't taken my preservation class this semester. Good class. If that makes me a book nerd, so be it.

You May Have Seen This Already...

but I don't care because it is beautiful. Also, now I'm going to talk more about it.

This is the 1886 copy of Tennyson's poems that I purchased last Thursday at Dawn Treader Book Shop, which is basically a book nerd's dream come true for finding secondhand (or thirdhand or whatever) books. Seriously, the first time I stepped in there I was afraid I was going to get lost. The shop is actually a bit bigger on the inside. Well, longer than it looks, and so it's deceptively smaller on the outside. Books everywhere, filling the shelves, lining the floor, that sort of thing. Sort of how I imagine Flourish and Blotts to look like.

Anyway, it was my second time in the shop, and this book spoke to me. Almost literally. It said, "Ashlee, if you do not buy me, I will disappear forever. I only cost $9.50 and I am gorgeous." And it is. The cover's a bit dirty and the edges a bit worn, but it was probably fantastic when it was first published. Inside there's pictures of Tennyson and the characters from his poems, and it has everything except what was published in the last six years of Tennyson's life because this was published six years before he died.

This book used to be in a library somewhere (specifically, the "Mt. Hope Library"), because it's still got its pocket and card attached to the backflap. Also, the title of the library neatly written in impeccable cursive above said pocket. Doesn't look like anyone ever checked the book out, though. (Boy, I know how that feels.)

Still, now it's got a new home with me, where, since my shelves aren't the best at present, I'm storing it on its spine because that's better than storing it on its fore-edge. My books deserve the best, especially now that I feel all guilty due to the preservation classes I've been taking.

P.S. I also purchased a copy of the Faerie Queene, which is exciting, but it's a more recently published paperback copy, which isn't as exciting as an 1886 copy of Tennyson. It just isn't.

Squee

7-17-12

I know that this came out at December, but I'm still geeking out over it in July and will be all semester. (Even though it's only the first half or so of the book. I'm still excited.)

I relish how close to the book it seems to be. I could pick out different scenes from the story--and, oh! the song! They put in that song! SO EXCITED.

I still think people should read the books first, but seriously you guys, I'm pumped about this.

Reading Books

12-17-11

So, finals are over. Yay! Now I have a year until my own graduation. Not so yay. I mean, that's exciting, but it's also very scary, considering that if I don't get into law school, I'm not sure what I'm going to do. I'm still trying to figure out options just because, well, plans don't always go as planned. Besides, my mom keeps asking me what I'll do if I don't get into law school, and I would like to have a goodish answer.

I was strangely distracted during finals. Partially that's because I only had two finals and the rest were projects to turn in or non-existent. I mean, in other semesters, I've had all five tests and had to be very careful, time management wise. I kept listening to new music and re-reading all seven of the Chronicles of Narnia. I think one of my ultimate favorite characters has to be Puddleglum from The Silver Chair because of the awesome statement of faith that he makes when he, Rilian, and the children are being attacked by the witch. It's just profound, you know? And worth reading. So I had to pull myself away from my bedroom and ended up studying in the library, which isn't something I normally do. I've discovered that I sort of like it, and so I may end up studying there more often. (It doesn't hurt that I was half-hoping to possibly run into someone there. It never happened, but it was always a possibility.)

I also read Waking the Dead, by John Eldredge. It's what I've been needing to read for a while, I think. I have been afraid. Afraid of different things, some of which I didn't even know. But God and I had a conversation this morning, and I realized that some of my issues go back further than I thought they did. And now I can go on, with His help, of course. It's still all settling in my head, so there might end up being a fiction-y thing at some point, but you know, that's how it goes.

More later.

Contemporary

11-6-11

I've been wondering why I don't write anything that's particularly contemporary. I usually write far in the future or in some indeterminate time that could be both alternate reality or the far future. Depends on the story. I've read some great contemporary novels (and even beta'ed one that I hope gets published), but it's not something I'm drawn to write.

I think part of my problem is that I feel that I've just never fit any of the particular stereotypes while growing up, and so it's hard to depict something that I've never experienced. Oh, the emotions would be there, perhaps, but the experience wouldn't be. For example (and forgive me, it's a rather shallow example), I was not the teen girl who was all into boys and make-up or whatever else the shelf and screen depict teen girls to be. I was the gifted bookworm who was neither outcast nor popular, concerned with my grades and scribbling away at stories when I was finished with my homework. I had issues, but I was largely unaware of them until after high school. 

The other part, I suppose, is that I have no desire to relive high school. I mostly enjoyed it while I was there, but I don't miss it (especially the not-so-great parts). I don't feel as if I could add anything to the table when it comes to depicting real life.

Besides, the stories that I identified with in middle and high school weren't contemporary. I read the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings in sixth grade (although I did skip all the poetry in that first reading and have only come to appreciate the depth of LOTR as I've gotten older), and I started reading the books my mom had been assigned in high school (like The Great Gatsby and 1984).

But the characters I identified with I can point to with relative ease: Ender and Harry. I met Harry first, in sixth grade (or should I say second year?). I actually read Chamber of Secrets first and had to backtrack to find Sorcerer's Stone. I never waited in a line for new books or new movies, but I did read it because I could see my experience echoed in the story of the bespectacled boy who lived in a cupboard under the stairs--not the experience of being a wizard, but of feeling alone and outnumbered and isolated due to events not under one's control.

And Ender? I met him my sophomore year of high school, right around the time that things socially started unexpectedly falling apart for me. I borrowed the book from one of my classmates, my principal's son, and I finished the book within two days (definitely on the flashlight list). To be set apart because of one's intelligence--I had known that since second grade, and so I bought a copy of my very own during Ringfest when we visited the mall after practice. I take great care of my books, but my copy of Ender's Game is so read that its spine is creased and I have to take care when re-reading it to ensure that the pages don't come out.

And neither setting is contemporary. Well, sure, Harry lives on Earth, and it's technically taking place in the early 90s, but that's never directly stated and besides, wizards live in a reality alongside the "real" world. The setting is fantastical, and it's not what I consider contemporary. And Ender's Earth is far in the future. Even if its origins are our present time, Ender's society is not the society of today.

And I guess what I'm trying to say is, as long as the characters and the emotions and the feelings are real, the setting (for me, at least) doesn't have to be. And since that's what I read, that's what I write. (Plus, then I'm not constrained by how things are now. But that's another matter for another post.)

More later.

Thinking?

9-28-11

I waver between being an adult and being an almost-adult. I think most people (if not all people) do. But what does it take to feel like an adult? Or are the adults just running things while pretending that they're adults (while secretly feeling that they're not adults)?

Thinking about that makes me think about Ender. And Ender's Game. And why I like that book so very, very much. It connects, you know? And it speaks to me. The power of books, I s'pose.

Anyway, super busy. Very sleepy. Too many projects, not enough time. It would be nice, sometimes, to have a decent Delorean or some other device capable of turning time. (Except for the possibility of paradoxes and the annihilation of the entire universe. Or something like that.)

Headed to bed. Night, folks!

-Ashlee

Christmas Break

1-3-11

I finally had found a ride, with a friend's roommate and that roommate's boyfriend. Maricel and Matt were very nice, and we left at 5:00 AM and made super good time to Indiana and points beyond. When we got close to the rendevous point with my dad, the traffic slowed way down. Rubberneckers, we figured. When we went past the wreck (which was on the southbound side, actually, and had completely stopped traffic on that side), I realized that we'd had a safe trip as well. What we saw was this: the trailer of one semi truck was crumpled in the middle, and the cab of another semi was almost completely gone. That was not a good wreck. (Not that any ever are, but you all know what I mean.)

When we met up with Dad, I got to go to a Barnes and Noble and then we went home. At home, not much happened. I read books, watched TV and movies, and played on the computer and with the cats. I mean, we did Christmas and I gave and got presents (including a saucepan, Music and Lyrics, and an entire set of dishes) and we did New Year's Eve a day early because I was meeting up with my ride the actual day of.

Well, sort of meeting with my ride. Dad and Caitlyn took me down to Pastor Charlie's house, where I caught a ride (and dinner at Cracker Barrel) to Timber Ridge Camp (the best camp in the entire universe) for staff retreat. (More on how stretching staff retreat was in a later post.) Staff retreat is where I met up with Ashley and Zack, and we traveled back to Southern yesterday. So here I am, all ready and rarin' to go for another semester.

More later.

Book Recommendation

11/21/10

First of all, a little over a week ago, I splurged. I bought two books: Ender in Exile, by one of my favorite authors, Orson Scott Card, and The Eyre Affair, by Jasper Fforde. It was a splurge because I was actually at Barnes and Noble, and I couldn't really afford it, but I hadn't bought myself any books in a VERY LONG TIME. (Granted, I've been trying to stick with the ones in my personal library that I haven't read yet, but that's a different blog post.)

I read Ender in Exile first, because I knew I'd like it because (like I said) Card is one of my favorite authors. (I even did a book review on Ender's Game over on Lydia Sharp's blog way back in 2009.) It was a great read that I might write about some day.

But then I began Fforde's The Eyre Affair.

I haven't read something so intellectually entertaining in a VERY LONG TIME. (Granted, I've been doing homework, and, let's face it, college textbooks aren't the most entertainingly written works.) But Fforde's witty novel about Thursday Next, her world, and her work floored me. Enough so, in fact, that once I scrape together enough money, I'm going to go back to Barnes and Noble and buy myself the next book, Lost in a Good Book. That's what I get for working at my campus's Writing Center and seeing what my fellow tutors are reading and getting hooked from reading excerpts of the fourth book in the series. The tutor I saw reading Fforde said that the reason she loved Bronte's Jane Eyre is because of Fforde's The Eyre Affair. My love comes from the opposite--I found it more clever because I like Jane Eyre (and for the reasons listed below).

A big reason that I absolutely loved The Eyre Affair was because the world is so absurd, yet it's the characters' world, and so it's all commonplace to them. The tone of the novel seems to be somewhere between journal, detective novel, and continual wordplay. Time travel, hardcore literary fans, and novel characters that can jump from their pages are all regular sights to Thursday.

If I was still in high school with a specified lights' out, this would have become a flashlight book. It took me about a day and a half, two days max, to read, and I will gladly read it again.

One thing is certain: I may not necessarily want to live in Thursday's world, but I sure enjoyed visiting it. I definitely recommend picking up The Eyre Affair and giving it a chance.

-Ashlee