<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922</id><updated>2012-01-26T16:47:56.883-05:00</updated><category term='lamps'/><category term='Holland'/><category term='drug addiction'/><category term='guitarist'/><category term='historical fiction'/><category term='books'/><category term='Forgiveness'/><category term='Clara Driscoll'/><category term='Nazis'/><category term='Ron Wood'/><category term='Blame'/><category term='museum'/><category term='police'/><category term='cemetery'/><category term='Art Thief'/><category term='Tommy James'/><category term='artist'/><category term='central park'/><category term='Tiffany'/><category term='World War II'/><category term='Brazilian history'/><category term='mob'/><category term='Noah Charney'/><category term='Rolling Stones'/><category term='downsizing'/><category term='family'/><category term='Paris'/><category term='Drunk Driving'/><category term='sessue hayakawa'/><category term='lies'/><category term='ghosts'/><category term='autobiography'/><category term='silent movies'/><category term='Van Meegeren'/><category term='rock and roll'/><category term='new york'/><category term='review'/><category term='Vermeer'/><category term='trial'/><category term='Vichy France'/><category term='loch ness monster'/><category term='lampshades'/><category term='labor movement'/><category term='reading'/><category term='mafia'/><category term='Alcoholism'/><category term='1960s'/><category term='http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif'/><category term='Keith Richards'/><category term='feminism'/><category term='colma'/><category term='Guilt'/><category term='New York City'/><category term='Mamah Cheney'/><category term='Recovery'/><category term='bildungsroman'/><category term='women&apos;s rights'/><category term='japanese americans'/><category term='new normal'/><category term='forgery'/><category term='paintings'/><category term='art theft'/><category term='Frank Lloyd Wright'/><category term='libraries'/><category term='cooperstown'/><category term='Malevich'/><category term='painter'/><category term='East Meadow'/><category term='criticism'/><category term='fake'/><category term='adultery'/><category term='San Francisco'/><category term='architect'/><category term='glass'/><category term='Goering'/><category term='art forgery'/><category term='Morris Levy'/><category term='scandal'/><category term='architecture'/><category term='memoir'/><title type='text'>ON THE BEDSIDE TABLE</title><subtitle type='html'>Find out what your Reader Services librarians are reading and recommending.  Please click on book cover images to check availability.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Christina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02990907481549868586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SL2DGtLHZII/AAAAAAAAAJo/LckteNsxi_w/S220/chris.GIF'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>41</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-137160125805979946</id><published>2012-01-15T13:47:00.015-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-26T14:55:13.064-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif'/><title type='text'>A Duo of Damaged Minds</title><content type='html'>Recently I read two novels that had something in common - their narrators were unreliable. This was not because they were being untruthful, but because their grasp on reality was fragile due to the fact that their brains were damaged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Turn of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.alisweb.org/search~S60?/Yturn+of+mind&amp;amp;searchscope=60&amp;amp;SORT=DZ/Yturn+of+mind&amp;amp;searchscope=60&amp;amp;SORT=DZ&amp;amp;extended=0&amp;amp;SUBKEY=turn+of+mind/1%2C253%2C253%2CB/frameset&amp;amp;FF=Yturn+of+mind&amp;amp;searchscope=60&amp;amp;SORT=DZ&amp;amp;3%2C3%2C/indexsort=-"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 130px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5701731637401616978" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NhqnhvZpdeg/TyCetxPuAlI/AAAAAAAAAFc/Q-AXVcUJbgk/s200/Turn-of-Mind_208.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Mind &lt;/span&gt;by Alice LaPlante, Dr. Jennifer White's best friend has been murdered and she finds herself a suspect. But there is a complication. Jennifer is suffering from advanced Alzheimer's dementia and half the time she can't remember that Amanda is dead, never mind if she was involved in her murder. Told completely from the point of view of Jennifer's deteriorating mind, you suffer with her as she slips further away from herself and those she loves. Your view of reality is hers - fractured, unsure and changeable as she has good days and bad days. While the murder and its solution is interesting in itself, it is only one aspect of the novel. It is also a fascinating look into the mind being lost to a horrible disease and a study of relationships - what binds people together and tears them apart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S.J. Watso&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.alisweb.org/search~S60?/Ywatson%2C+s..j.&amp;amp;searchscope=60&amp;amp;SORT=D/Ywatson%2C+s..j.&amp;amp;searchscope=60&amp;amp;SORT=D&amp;amp;SUBKEY=watson%2C+s..j./1%2C6%2C6%2CB/frameset&amp;amp;FF=Ywatson%2C+s..j.&amp;amp;searchscope=60&amp;amp;SORT=D&amp;amp;3%2C3%2C"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 130px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 195px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5701731644894169138" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GcDS19Z6aRo/TyCeuNKFSDI/AAAAAAAAAFo/nqPjzY9VJmg/s200/us-cover-large.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;n's &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Before I Go to Sleep&lt;/span&gt; opens with Christine waking beside a man she doesn't know, only to discover she is a middle age woman- not in her twenties like she remembers. The man, Ben, explains he is her husband and that she is suffering from a strange type of amnesia as a result of an accident. Every night when she sleeps she loses the past 20 odd years of memories. Christine soon discovers that unknown to Ben she is seeing a Dr. Nash who is trying to help her regain her memories and that she keeps a secret journal. As she reads her entries, Christine realizes that Ben may not be telling her the whole truth. Is he trying protect her from painful memories or is something more sinister going on? Knowing only what Christine does, the readers finds themselves on a roller coaster ride trying to figure out what is really going on and who to trust. This page turning thriller is hard to put down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PD00PqVuEfc/TyFzgP1rYoI/AAAAAAAAAGA/z69d7GfO_Ho/s1600/janine.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 100px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 105px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5701965601072439938" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PD00PqVuEfc/TyFzgP1rYoI/AAAAAAAAAGA/z69d7GfO_Ho/s200/janine.gif" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-137160125805979946?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/137160125805979946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=137160125805979946' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/137160125805979946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/137160125805979946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2012/01/duo-of-damaged-minds.html' title='A Duo of Damaged Minds'/><author><name>Janine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14737496376981000304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NhqnhvZpdeg/TyCetxPuAlI/AAAAAAAAAFc/Q-AXVcUJbgk/s72-c/Turn-of-Mind_208.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-2635686750041882440</id><published>2012-01-10T11:19:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-10T11:33:15.168-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Liked The Help? This is your next read!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://sun.nls.lib.ny.us/record=b11337069"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 128px; height: 188px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m5DeCqpXMUg/TwxmThazd3I/AAAAAAAAASM/jMRU21R_Cvg/s200/mudbound.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696040114291177330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Mudbound&lt;/span&gt; by Hillary Jordan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the novel opens we are immediately drawn into the thread of the story. The two Allen brothers are covertly burying their father. Why are they so secretive and what caused his demise?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Equally involving is the story of the McAllen family. Laura is a city bred woman who has been transplanted to a farm on the Mississippi Delta. Her back story with her future husband Henry, his father Pappy and his brother Jamie is compelling and the story only gets better as we meet the other characters in the story. Jamie’s friendship with Ronsel Jackson, a black sharecropper, is based on their shared war experiences. Jamie has turned to alcohol for comfort and Ronsel is faced again with southern bigotry after having equality during his war service. Although they should not be friends in their circumstances, they find common ground.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Told in alternating chapters by Laura, Henry, Jamie, Ronsel, and his parents, Florence and Hap, the story of deep mindless prejudice and cruelty unfolds with a chilling inevitability. I could not choose which character’s viewpoint was better. All were so fully formed and compelling. And the ending left me speechless…I did not see it coming. The writing is exceptional, the story always forceful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Highly recommended for all readers. There is so much to discuss here and this would make an excellent choice for book groups.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RgXSA3AGItw/TwxnA1gwtoI/AAAAAAAAASY/jp7jWcgXnxo/s1600/marcia.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 100px; height: 113px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RgXSA3AGItw/TwxnA1gwtoI/AAAAAAAAASY/jp7jWcgXnxo/s200/marcia.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696040892778985090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-2635686750041882440?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/2635686750041882440/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=2635686750041882440' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/2635686750041882440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/2635686750041882440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2012/01/liked-help-this-is-your-next-read.html' title='Liked The Help? This is your next read!'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11936544321018326588</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FdX7N27smYM/SL2apYsDr2I/AAAAAAAAAAQ/OI4JOtIga38/S220/marcia.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m5DeCqpXMUg/TwxmThazd3I/AAAAAAAAASM/jMRU21R_Cvg/s72-c/mudbound.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-8401761329737307248</id><published>2011-12-18T13:24:00.020-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-19T17:38:07.891-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Apocalypse later?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://sun.nls.lib.ny.us/record=b11778131"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 132px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kZ_Fx1e4Jt8/Tu-6MIq26gI/AAAAAAAAAR0/u64-uOJWHZY/s200/leftovers.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5687969572040665602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;On October 14th, millions of people all over the world disappeared. One minute they were there and the next they were gone. If it was "The Rapture," many evangelists were disappointed to learn that they were still alive while agnostics, atheists, and Muslims were among the missing. Children had to cope without parents, friends were separated, and the survivors were left to try and sort out their emotions. Three years after this horrible event, the town of Mapleton held a parade commemorating "The Departed Heroes' Day of Remembrance and Reflection " to aid its residents in their quest to move on. The speeches were disrupted, however, by a demonstration by the Guilty Remnant, a group of white-robed, cigarette smoking devotees whose mission was to make everyone continue to grieve. As the townspeople of Mapleton spin out of control, they experiment with religous cults, and face painful truths as they try to manufacture some semblance of normality.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tom Perrotta, noted for making suburbia represent the universe, has written the best 9/11 novel yet in &lt;em&gt;The Leftovers,&lt;/em&gt; even though it technically does not deal with 9/11&lt;em&gt;.&lt;/em&gt; Using "The Rapture" as a metaphor for the randomness of the attack on the World Trade Center, Perrotta makes the reader experience the plight of those who were left behind and are charged with the obligation to keep on living.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7w2Mwbx-BjI/Tu-65I9jSvI/AAAAAAAAASA/CSNBSgIxL4w/s1600/donna.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 75px; height: 75px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7w2Mwbx-BjI/Tu-65I9jSvI/AAAAAAAAASA/CSNBSgIxL4w/s200/donna.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5687970345213184754" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-8401761329737307248?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/8401761329737307248/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=8401761329737307248' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/8401761329737307248'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/8401761329737307248'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2011/12/apocalypse-later.html' title='Apocalypse later?'/><author><name>Donna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10256968491441395166</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/SL2NSeUND3I/AAAAAAAAAB8/QrRhPOQpAec/S220/donna.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kZ_Fx1e4Jt8/Tu-6MIq26gI/AAAAAAAAAR0/u64-uOJWHZY/s72-c/leftovers.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-7331400748611715082</id><published>2011-07-07T18:08:00.023-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-08T07:15:16.484-04:00</updated><title type='text'>"Good parents give their children Roots and Wings."</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://sun.nls.lib.ny.us/record=b11761265" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 117px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 193px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626764199572085730" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-S-LxUrnsiHw/ThZIOkZhG-I/AAAAAAAAARk/e3Z0IMwDHOE/s200/gapyear.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Cam Lightsey gave up her hippy chick counter-culture house in Sycamore Heights to raise her daughter in the staid, but educationally superior Parkhaven neighborhood. It was just one of the many sacrifices that she would make for Aubrey, but it was certainly worth it to know that her little girl would finally escape to college in a few days. Cam was all that Aubrey had for parents, as her father left the family to become a "Nextarian" (read Scientologist) when their daughter turned two. Still he managed to finagle a trust fund from the Nextarians that would at least cover her first year at a very good school, if only she would go to the bank with her mother to claim it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aubrey, a seventeen year old band geek was a good student, an obedient daughter, and a girl totally sick of her programmed boring life. Forced to march out on the hot field by her band teacher, she first faints then throws up on the school star quarterback. Miraculously they begin a friendly relationship that morphes into something else, radically changing her life and goals, much to her mother's dismay. &lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Gap Year,&lt;/em&gt; by Sarah Bird, alternates between Cam and Aubrey's voices, each telling the same story with radically different views. Exploring the mother-daughter relationship with skill and compassion, Bird examines the pain of letting go and the struggles to find oneself and begin an independent life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must confess that Ms. Bird wrote one of my all-time favorite books,&lt;em&gt; The Mommy Club&lt;/em&gt;, in the early nineties. &lt;em&gt;The Gap Year&lt;/em&gt; has the same quirky romantic quality to it, combined with the poignancy of growing up, both on the child and the adult levels. This is a very satisfying read.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eCGVxNBeYmI/ThZIXRm7ZRI/AAAAAAAAARs/oO2yBkrFSNM/s1600/donna.png"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 75px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 75px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626764349146883346" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eCGVxNBeYmI/ThZIXRm7ZRI/AAAAAAAAARs/oO2yBkrFSNM/s200/donna.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-7331400748611715082?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/7331400748611715082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=7331400748611715082' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/7331400748611715082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/7331400748611715082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2011/07/good-parents-give-their-children-roots.html' title='&quot;Good parents give their children Roots and Wings.&quot;'/><author><name>Donna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10256968491441395166</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/SL2NSeUND3I/AAAAAAAAAB8/QrRhPOQpAec/S220/donna.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-S-LxUrnsiHw/ThZIOkZhG-I/AAAAAAAAARk/e3Z0IMwDHOE/s72-c/gapyear.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-1619249338765975820</id><published>2011-05-07T10:59:00.019-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-09T13:26:08.984-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='labor movement'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lamps'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lampshades'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clara Driscoll'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='glass'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tiffany'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='women&apos;s rights'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='New York City'/><title type='text'>Mr. Tiffany, a Pain in the Glass</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://sun.nls.lib.ny.us/record=b11671726"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 128px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 190px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604004319372478274" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9s3RQl1kk2c/TcVsPLfzh0I/AAAAAAAAAQ4/o4qaGOkkIu8/s200/clara.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic; FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;Clara and Mr. Tiffany&lt;/span&gt; by Susan Vreeland is one of those books that took me a little while to get immersed in, but after a few chapters, I was hooked. I became totally absorbed in the world of New York City at the turn of the century. We get a taste of both the poverty the newly arrived immigrants experienced in the Lower East Side, and we also see how the other half lived, the mansions of the monied Fifth Avenue crowd. The author has a knack for making the reader feel as he/she is part of the main character's circle of friends and is experiencing the exciting events of that time period. When Clara and her colleagues are confronted with a picket line, it was both nerve-wracking and thrilling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vreeland was inspired&lt;i&gt; &lt;/i&gt;to write this historical novel after seeing the exhibit,&lt;i&gt; A New Light on Tiffany: Clara Driscoll and the Tiffany Girls&lt;/i&gt;, at the New York Historical Society. After undertaking meticulous research on Louis Comfort Tiffany, the culture of New York City during the Gilded Age, and immersing herself in Clara Driscoll's letters, Vreeland proceeded to write a story (one that reflects many of the events mentioned in the letters) about the unsung artistic contributions of the Women's Department in Tiffany Studios. It seems that those beautiful, celebrated leaded-glass lampshades were conceived and designed by Clara Driscoll and not Louis Tiffany! Unfortunately, Clara and her industrious team of women were never given any credit for their achievements. Tiffany probably only initially created the Women's Department because he wouldn't have to worry about them going on strike like the unionized male employees were capable of. Another chauvinistic policy of Tiffany's was that he wouldn't allow married women to work for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ended up caring very much for Clara and her friends. I totally empathized with Clara's frustrations with not having her artistic accomplishments recognized as they should have been. Louis Tiffany is portrayed as a man with many faults. At times he appears capable of breaking out of his prejudices and old fashioned ways of thinking, but he never fully does. I guess that is what makes him a fascinating character.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0FyqhQnRlwI/TcV05abD7KI/AAAAAAAAARA/mEgjuVxkFmk/s1600/chris.png"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 100px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 94px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604013841026641058" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0FyqhQnRlwI/TcV05abD7KI/AAAAAAAAARA/mEgjuVxkFmk/s200/chris.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-1619249338765975820?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/1619249338765975820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=1619249338765975820' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/1619249338765975820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/1619249338765975820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2011/05/mr-tiffany-pain-in-glass.html' title='Mr. Tiffany, a Pain in the Glass'/><author><name>Christina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02990907481549868586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SL2DGtLHZII/AAAAAAAAAJo/LckteNsxi_w/S220/chris.GIF'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9s3RQl1kk2c/TcVsPLfzh0I/AAAAAAAAAQ4/o4qaGOkkIu8/s72-c/clara.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-3042669295569737776</id><published>2011-05-06T15:57:00.016-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-06T16:13:58.496-04:00</updated><title type='text'>East Meets West</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.alisweb.org/search~S60?/Ymajor+pettigrews&amp;amp;searchscope=60&amp;amp;SORT=D/Ymajor+pettigrews&amp;amp;searchscope=60&amp;amp;SORT=D&amp;amp;SUBKEY=major%20pettigrews/1%2C8%2C8%2CB/frameset&amp;amp;FF=Ymajor+pettigrews&amp;amp;searchscope=60&amp;amp;SORT=D&amp;amp;7%2C7%2C"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 130px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603697178708913186" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zWOLd6AF41w/TcRU5PXNrCI/AAAAAAAAAB8/1Nc8gH7MAhE/s200/major-pettigrews-last-stand.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand&lt;br /&gt;by Helen Simonson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;It’s been a long time since I’ve read such a delightful book. Helen Simonson certainly tackles many weighty issues such as discrimination, honor, family relationships, and greed but does so within the framework of a story that is whimsical, laugh-out funny and unforgettable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Major Pettigrew, 68, is a very proper widower with a wonderful English sense of humor who resides in the quaint village of Edgecombe St. Mary in Sussex. As the novel opens he realizes that the local shopkeeper, Jasmina Ali, is someone he has a lot in common with and that he is attracted to her. Of course, a Pakistani woman is not exactly what his son Roger or the other inhabitants of the village envision for the Major. There is also the matter of a family heirloom, matched Churchill hunting rifles, that the Major is fighting to keep his greedy relatives (including his son)from selling because he feels it symbolizes his family’s stature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are lovely romantic scenes, ones that are a testament to the human spirit and those that have marvelous understated humor. The book is also a lesson to never give up on life or love. For those who love the charm of the "Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society", you're in for yet another treat. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 100px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 113px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603698273405015618" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-I-a9RDS2C1w/TcRV49bGlkI/AAAAAAAAACE/4GqND_i5kLM/s200/marcia.gif" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-3042669295569737776?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/3042669295569737776/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=3042669295569737776' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/3042669295569737776'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/3042669295569737776'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2011/05/east-meets-west.html' title='East Meets West'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11936544321018326588</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FdX7N27smYM/SL2apYsDr2I/AAAAAAAAAAQ/OI4JOtIga38/S220/marcia.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zWOLd6AF41w/TcRU5PXNrCI/AAAAAAAAAB8/1Nc8gH7MAhE/s72-c/major-pettigrews-last-stand.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-5583167582998179894</id><published>2011-05-06T11:59:00.011-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-09T13:24:34.196-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Death in Dublin</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.alisweb.org/search~S60?/Yskippy+dies&amp;amp;searchscope=60&amp;amp;SORT=D/Yskippy+dies&amp;amp;searchscope=60&amp;amp;SORT=D&amp;amp;SUBKEY=skippy%20dies/1%2C2%2C2%2CB/frameset&amp;amp;FF=Yskippy+dies&amp;amp;searchscope=60&amp;amp;SORT=D&amp;amp;2%2C2%2C"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 133px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603633520534347858" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5IdgphRP-N0/TcQa_2Lr4FI/AAAAAAAAAFA/xZs9gmWr-aQ/s200/Skippy-Dies.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Skippy Dies by Paul Murray&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Skippy dies, there is no doubt about this. The title proclaims it and in the first pages of this book Daniel "Skippy" Juster collapses in the local doughnut shop, writing "tell Lori" in the raspberry filling that he manages to squeeze from a jelly doughnut before he expires. The next 600 something pages (it was originally published in three volumes) of this absorbing novel explores what brought Skippy to this end and what happens to those around him after the tragedy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Set in an all-boy Catholic prep school in contemporary Dublin, the story draws you in to the lives of the teens and teachers who populate the school as they cope with the casual cruelties and deeper tragedies of life. Here you meet Ruprecht, Skippy's roommate, who is "A hamster-cheeked boy with a chronic weight problem.." and is obsessed with string theory. There is Lori the girl Skippy falls for, a beautiful but troubled girl from the neighboring girl's school and her drug dealing, bullying boyfriend Carl. Howard is an alumni of the school who has returned in disgrace from his job in finance to take up a teaching position and must deal with bored students and a stagnant relationship. Most of all there is Skippy, a seemingly unremarkable, sensitive 14 year old boy who is struggling to get by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In this complex novel told from multiple viewpoints, Murray beautifully writes not only about the growing pains of adolescence, but also the struggles of adulthood. The characters may appear stereotypical at first, but the author fleshes them out and makes them seem like real people. This challenging book is worth the effort.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-me1gBosLoT8/TcQbJCsHT3I/AAAAAAAAAFI/yFynmmXX9Jw/s1600/janine.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 100px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 105px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603633678510411634" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-me1gBosLoT8/TcQbJCsHT3I/AAAAAAAAAFI/yFynmmXX9Jw/s200/janine.gif" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-5583167582998179894?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/5583167582998179894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=5583167582998179894' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/5583167582998179894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/5583167582998179894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2011/05/death-in-dublin.html' title='A Death in Dublin'/><author><name>Janine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14737496376981000304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5IdgphRP-N0/TcQa_2Lr4FI/AAAAAAAAAFA/xZs9gmWr-aQ/s72-c/Skippy-Dies.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-8069943860902506978</id><published>2011-04-25T12:55:00.013-04:00</published><updated>2011-05-09T13:24:02.427-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Red on Red-Dead On</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://sun.nls.lib.ny.us/record=b11694729"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 127px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 193px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603987498528047074" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zxy7ati2RzQ/TcVc8E9-f-I/AAAAAAAAAQg/-9I8XMhu_vw/s200/redonred.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Nick and Esposito are newly partnered detectives for the NYPD. Although completely different from each other, their styles work well; Nick is quiet, introspective, and a master of detail and trivia, while Espo is the quintessential rogue cop, always living both his personal and professional lives on the edge. While Espo prides himself on his cop instincts, what he doesn't know is that Nick became his partner to spy on him for the Bureau of Internal Affairs in exchange for a reassignment out of the hellish Bronx precinct. While they help each other on cases, Nick is lead investigator on an unidentified suicide found hanging from a tree in Inwood, and Espo has cultivated a drug informant who is working to get his prison sentence reduced. As both investigations proceed they begin to bleed into each other, as loyalties shift and secrets are revealed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Edward Conlon, author of the prizewinning memoir &lt;em&gt;Blue Blood &lt;/em&gt;is a detective with the New York City Police Department. His writing reflects his understanding of the way police relate...to each other and to the "bad guys" that they must take down. In his debut novel&lt;em&gt;, Red on Red&lt;/em&gt;, a phrase describing the situation when team members turn on each other, the reader is given a window into this world of slimy characters and tough situations. Warning! You might need a nice hot shower after reading it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DyKvp0G2Ges/TcVdlXyn7PI/AAAAAAAAAQw/KAdla8lzLE4/s1600/donna.png"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 75px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 75px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5603988207955340530" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DyKvp0G2Ges/TcVdlXyn7PI/AAAAAAAAAQw/KAdla8lzLE4/s200/donna.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dScSeXj5nYY/TcVdPQrEcOI/AAAAAAAAAQo/nBnqYq9_S2M/s1600/donna.gif"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-8069943860902506978?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/8069943860902506978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=8069943860902506978' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/8069943860902506978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/8069943860902506978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2011/04/red-on-red-dead-on.html' title='Red on Red-Dead On'/><author><name>Donna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10256968491441395166</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/SL2NSeUND3I/AAAAAAAAAB8/QrRhPOQpAec/S220/donna.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zxy7ati2RzQ/TcVc8E9-f-I/AAAAAAAAAQg/-9I8XMhu_vw/s72-c/redonred.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-2301027691228519713</id><published>2011-01-16T13:44:00.018-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-18T14:26:23.185-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='new normal'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='downsizing'/><title type='text'>Life in the "New Normal"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://sun.nls.lib.ny.us/record=b11676027"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 128px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 193px" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562879002712799378" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/TTNQ-sUs-JI/AAAAAAAAARs/yUArCr4yuCY/s200/beds.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Annie is not terribly happy with her lot, but there are a few advantages to having her husband Tom sleep across the hall in their missing daughter's room. Primarily, her bedroom stays neat, clean, and feminine, as she is the only one residing there. She and Tom have high paying jobs and can afford to decorate their home as they wish, and in fact, Annie just made a down payment on a gourmet-style french stove. Her life isn't too bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But this uneasy peace is about to end. Their son Jake's marriage implodes, and his custom furniture business dries up. To save money, he moves back home to his parents' London flat. Tom's job as a BBC news producer is eliminated, and since he funds his mother's residence at an elite nursing home, he must move her to their house as well. Their youngest daughter who still lives at home wants to be a writer, but financial circumstances have changed and she challenges herself to find a salaried position. And there is still the question of Mia who disappeared five years ago after Tom made her choose between her family and her boyfriend&lt;strong&gt;. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Separate Beds&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;by Elizabeth Buchan examines the "new normal" of this economy where nothing can be taken for granted. When the traditional support systems are removed, it forces people to seek new creatives ways of problem solving. This just might be the answer that Annie and Tom are searching for. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/TTNREhE917I/AAAAAAAAAR0/3AmxBUm4ZSY/s1600/donna.png"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 75px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 75px" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562879102773221298" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/TTNREhE917I/AAAAAAAAAR0/3AmxBUm4ZSY/s200/donna.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-2301027691228519713?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/2301027691228519713/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=2301027691228519713' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/2301027691228519713'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/2301027691228519713'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2011/01/life-in-new-reality.html' title='Life in the &quot;New Normal&quot;'/><author><name>Donna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10256968491441395166</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/SL2NSeUND3I/AAAAAAAAAB8/QrRhPOQpAec/S220/donna.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/TTNQ-sUs-JI/AAAAAAAAARs/yUArCr4yuCY/s72-c/beds.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-1372220930595200393</id><published>2011-01-14T13:37:00.013-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-18T13:19:14.360-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A  Room Without a View</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XjjnUyO49Oc/TTXM5fgPpNI/AAAAAAAAAD0/ND2JefNyH6Y/s1600/room.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 159px; height: 246px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XjjnUyO49Oc/TTXM5fgPpNI/AAAAAAAAAD0/ND2JefNyH6Y/s200/room.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563578202767467730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Room&lt;br /&gt;by Emma Donoghue&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;(2011 Alex Award Win&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;ner)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Five-year-old Jack was born and has spent his entire short life in a single 11 x11 room.  His only companion is his Ma, who was abducted  7   years ago by "Old Nick."   Ma has tried to make a life for Jack under these terrible circumstances.   She makes up games, teaches Jack how to read and tries to make sure he is safe, healthy and has enough to eat. Not easy tasks since "Old Nick," their only connection to the outside world other than the television,  is unreliable and unfortunately  getting more unstable.  Ma is desperate and makes a plan that will change their lives forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Told entirely from the perspective of Jack, this novel is a fascinating look at a mother and child living under extraordinary circumstances.  Jack is a bit precocious and it takes a little while to get used to his style of speaking -"I flat the chairs and put them beside Door against Clothes Horse."-but one gets drawn into his little world and the unique relationship between mother and son.  I found myself holding my breath to find out what would happen to them.  The first part of the book is the most absorbing.  Although not much happens, Donoghue carefully crafts the  the characters of Jack and Ma and the world in which  they live.  I can't say much about the second half without giving away too much, but it remains interesting.  Overall this was a thought provoking novel that would make for  for a good book discussion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;   &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XjjnUyO49Oc/TTXZMbX9feI/AAAAAAAAAD8/h9IUK5iIRtg/s1600/janine.gif"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XjjnUyO49Oc/TTXZg6UEe4I/AAAAAAAAAEE/e-fN_802bMg/s1600/janine.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 100px; height: 105px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XjjnUyO49Oc/TTXZg6UEe4I/AAAAAAAAAEE/e-fN_802bMg/s200/janine.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563592074118593410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;/div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-1372220930595200393?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.alisweb.org/search~S60?/troom/troom/1%2C182%2C287%2CB/exact&amp;FF=troom+a+novel&amp;1%2C6%2C' title='A  Room Without a View'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/1372220930595200393/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=1372220930595200393' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/1372220930595200393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/1372220930595200393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2011/01/room-without-view.html' title='A  Room Without a View'/><author><name>Janine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14737496376981000304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XjjnUyO49Oc/TTXM5fgPpNI/AAAAAAAAAD0/ND2JefNyH6Y/s72-c/room.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-7347835106671317666</id><published>2011-01-14T10:27:00.012-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-14T11:12:55.816-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memoir'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drug addiction'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rolling Stones'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Keith Richards'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='guitarist'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rock and roll'/><title type='text'>Getting Satisfaction Out of Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://sun.nls.lib.ny.us/record=b11664516"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 125px; height: 193px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/TTB0KdLFUeI/AAAAAAAAAQM/Ost-QiCvw6Q/s200/life.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562073262781190626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I was a little ambivalent about reading &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Life&lt;/span&gt; by Keith Richards.  Whenever I see this chap interviewed on television, he mumbles and is downright unintelligible.  With this in mind, I wondered if his writing style would fare any better.  After reading the first couple of pages, I breathed a sigh of relief.  Mr. Richards' (aka Keef aka The Human Riff) prose was a revelation.  He came across as warm, witty, and very personable.  It was like spending time with an old friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were actually quite a few revelations in this autobiography.  Let's face it, Mr. Richards' singing voice has never been spectacular.  So I was quite surprised to learn that he had been in his school choir and was such an exceptional singer that he performed at Westminster Abbey in front of Queen Elizabeth II.  Unfortunately, once puberty arrived, his beautiful soprano voice departed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But of course, my favorite revelation is his confession that he has had a secret desire to become a librarian!  Who would have ever believed it?  Imagine if he relinquished the crazy, hedonistic life of a rock star to become a quiet, reserved librarian?  My mind spins with the possibility.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favorite parts of the book were the stories about the early days of the Rolling Stones and the hard work and sacrifices that were made to make the group a success.  It was no piece of cake as there was little pay for long hours, cold flats, and near starvation.  But the Stones were serious about their music and Richards was a vital part of making them one of the greatest rock groups of all time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The insight into some of the hit songs was illuminating.  In fact, I would have liked to have read even more of that.  In regards to his love life, he comes across as a gentleman, sort of.  Of course, the book wouldn't have been complete if Richards didn't discuss his addiction to drugs.  And does he ever, the stories are unbelievable.  It is sad that someone who had been so focused on his music became so involved with drugs that the music became secondary.  Richards started with the hard drugs around 1969 and didn't look back until around 1978.  During that time period, his life became a series of strange episodes revolving around his world of drugs.  It's amazing that he is still alive, he is truly the indestructible man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really did feel that after reading this book, I had gotten to know Keith Richards a lot better.  His true personality, philosophy about life, motives, and values have been exposed to the world.  This is truly one of the best memoirs ever written by a rock musician.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/TTB0RICUXuI/AAAAAAAAAQU/ljnqSCZnxlE/s1600/chris.GIF"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 100px; height: 94px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/TTB0RICUXuI/AAAAAAAAAQU/ljnqSCZnxlE/s200/chris.GIF" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562073377366367970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-7347835106671317666?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/7347835106671317666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=7347835106671317666' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/7347835106671317666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/7347835106671317666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2011/01/getting-satisfaction-out-of-life_14.html' title='Getting Satisfaction Out of Life'/><author><name>Christina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02990907481549868586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SL2DGtLHZII/AAAAAAAAAJo/LckteNsxi_w/S220/chris.GIF'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/TTB0KdLFUeI/AAAAAAAAAQM/Ost-QiCvw6Q/s72-c/life.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-1216669503296167989</id><published>2010-08-18T12:42:00.030-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-20T10:44:53.474-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tommy James'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Morris Levy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mob'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='1960s'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mafia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rock and roll'/><title type='text'>I'm Gonna Make You An Offer You Can't Refuse</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://sun.nls.lib.ny.us/record=b11635124"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 132px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/TGwQmk_gq-I/AAAAAAAAAPg/A_l8yt305FM/s200/memobmusic.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506794699318406114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Whoever thought that rock and roll could be so deadly?  For Tommy James, it wasn't just sex, drugs, and rock and roll, it was also about beatings, murders, and the mafia.  In his autobiography, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;Me, the Mob, and the Music&lt;/span&gt;, James recounts his dealings with Morris Levy, the mercurial owner of Roulette Records and associate of the Genovese crime family.  Now how did a nice boy from the Midwest end up hobnobbing with the New York mob?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After his version of the song "Hanky Panky" became a surprise megahit in Pittsburgh, several major record companies were chomping at the bit to sign James to a recording contract.  Mysteriously, all but one of the companies dropped out of the race to sign him.   That one company was Roulette Records and James was basically offered a contract he couldn't refuse.   It turned out that Morris Levy strong-armed the other record companies to back down from signing James.     Levy was considered the "Godfather of the music industry" as his partners included members of the Genovese clan, and his way of doing business was through intimidation.  As James didn't have much of a choice, he signed with Levy and "Hanky Panky" ended up becoming one of the biggest hits of 1966.  After that, James had a string of top ten hits, including such classics as "I Think We're Alone Now," "Crimson and Clover," "Mony Mony," "Crystal Blue Persuasion," and "Draggin' the Line."  So it looked liked signing with Roulette was a good thing after all, right?  Wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For Tommy James, being at Roulette Records was the best of times and the worst of times.  He appears to have had a love hate relationship with Morris Levy.  On the one hand, James felt like he was part of a family at Roulette, albeit a dysfunctional one.  James also had a decent amount of creative control over his records which was fairly uncommon at that point in the music industry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the other hand, James never saw any of the money he was supposed to have gotten from the songs he had written as Levy had total control over the publishing rights and never dispensed his percentage of the earnings.  In fact, it sounds like none of the songwriters for Roulette ever got the money that was due them.  If anyone questioned Levy about royalties due them, they would get a vitriolic laced speech in return.  Legal recourse was virtually impossible because of the threat of bodily harm from Levy's thugs.  When James renewed his contract with Roulette (he admits that he should have known better), it included specific wording regarding songwriting royalties that would be owed to him.  After a few months, Levy told him that he would not abide by the terms of the contract and dared James to do anything about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually, the money battles and the climate of fear at Roulette (during the New York mafia wars in the early 1970s, Levy's associates were being murdered and even James feared for his own life) took its toll and James began to abuse drugs and alcohol for escape.   Levy made millions of dollars but didn't like to share much of it.  James eventually discovered that Levy owned him over 40 million dollars!  James ended up leaving Roulette after a final showdown with Levy (he's fortunate that he wasn't harmed as Levy has been connected with the severe beating that singer Jimmie Rodgers received after leaving Roulette Records) but he never had the same kind of success that he had in those glory years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This memoir will entertain Tommy James fans or anyone interested in that period of rock/popular music.  There were some interesting stories I wasn't familiar with, like how involved James was with Hubert Humphrey's presidential campaign.  At times, James glosses over certain matters such as his infidelities and broken marriages (his first wife and son just seem to disappear).   The crux of the book is the relationship between James and Levy.   Even with the problems James had with Levy, one gets the sense that he still cared very much for him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/TGwQw7xoDwI/AAAAAAAAAPo/Zl4O9CaRTrI/s1600/chris.GIF"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 100px; height: 94px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/TGwQw7xoDwI/AAAAAAAAAPo/Zl4O9CaRTrI/s200/chris.GIF" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506794877232877314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-1216669503296167989?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/1216669503296167989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=1216669503296167989' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/1216669503296167989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/1216669503296167989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2010/08/im-gonna-make-you-offer-you-cant-refuse.html' title='I&apos;m Gonna Make You An Offer You Can&apos;t Refuse'/><author><name>Christina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02990907481549868586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SL2DGtLHZII/AAAAAAAAAJo/LckteNsxi_w/S220/chris.GIF'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/TGwQmk_gq-I/AAAAAAAAAPg/A_l8yt305FM/s72-c/memobmusic.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-7808168199400560234</id><published>2010-07-15T18:41:00.017-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-17T11:36:21.588-04:00</updated><title type='text'>We Have All Been Here Before</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://sun.nls.lib.ny.us/record=b11618928"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494294132041594658" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 133px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/TD-nZy_aNyI/AAAAAAAAAQY/hQU8EUbefIs/s200/mynameismemory.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Have you ever had the feeling that you knew someone you just met? Ann Brashares, author of &lt;em&gt;The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants&lt;/em&gt;, spins the story of Daniel, an old soul, who actually remembers every life he has ever lived. In &lt;em&gt;My Name is Memory&lt;/em&gt; we learn that some version of Daniel has lived and died since 552 A.D. At that time he set fire to a hut occupied by a beautiful girl, who he knows will perish in the flames. Since then, he has interacted with her at different stages of their many lives, until, in a hospital in 1918 England , they are finally able to fall in love. Unfortunately, Daniel in his present life is a dying soldier who won't know when he will be able to find Sophia again, and also knows that she will not remember him or their relationship. But, for the first time, he tells her his story and she vows to remember their love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 1972, Lucy is attending high school in Virginia. There's a new guy named Daniel who just doesn't fit in with the rest of the school cliques, but she is wildly attracted to him. When they finally kiss, and he calls her Sophia, she is scared because it somehow makes sense to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a novel of love, death, and deja vu, the story of Daniel and Sophia reverberates throughout the ages. You will find yourself hoping that this time their story will have a happy ending.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494460566919912514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 75px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 75px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/TEA-xlOnHEI/AAAAAAAAAQg/f-4h9VeKuZc/s200/donna.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-7808168199400560234?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/7808168199400560234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=7808168199400560234' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/7808168199400560234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/7808168199400560234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2010/07/we-have-all-been-here-before.html' title='We Have All Been Here Before'/><author><name>Donna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10256968491441395166</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/SL2NSeUND3I/AAAAAAAAAB8/QrRhPOQpAec/S220/donna.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/TD-nZy_aNyI/AAAAAAAAAQY/hQU8EUbefIs/s72-c/mynameismemory.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-2990121340044680141</id><published>2010-07-15T12:28:00.025-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-15T15:47:32.428-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Rose By Any Other Name</title><content type='html'>&lt;span id="goog_1539286846"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="goog_1539286847"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://draft.blogger.com/"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://sun.nls.lib.ny.us/record=b11634422"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/TD9ePnywIFI/AAAAAAAAAPc/VhltwuFbyjE/s200/juliet.JPG" border="0" height="200" width="134" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Julie Jacobs, orphaned as a child and raised by her Great-Aunt Rose, has just discovered that the story of Romeo and Juliet did not begin with Shakespeare, but was her own family's true tale of intrigue. When her Great-Aunt dies, Julie finds herself excluded from the will with her twin sister inheriting the house and all of her Great-Aunt's possessions. After the funeral, Rose's caretaker gives Julie a key to a safe deposit box, a letter from her Great-Aunt, a plane ticket to Siena, and her childhood Italian passport identifying her as Gulietta Tolemei. She travels to Siena and removes the safe deposit box from its place in the bank, which turns out to be the converted Palazzo Tolomei. In the box are several old typewritten papers that purport to tell the story of Romeo Marescotti and Gulietta Tolomei, two star-crossed lovers who lived and died in fourteenth century Siena. It is Julie's mission to find the truth of her parents marriage, her mother's death, and the age old curse "a plague on both your houses" that still seems to haunt her and her family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anne Fortier's &lt;i&gt;Juliet&lt;/i&gt; combines fact, historical fiction, the Bard and the Mafia into an exciting treasure hunt for the truth behind the famous play. When the handsome and enigmatic Captain Allesandro Santini is thrown into the mix, the possibilites for a sweeping international romance become endless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493945826786539874" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/TD5qnwzZ-WI/AAAAAAAAAQI/CndxY-KuCYg/s320/donna.png" style="display: block; height: 75px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 75px;" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-2990121340044680141?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/2990121340044680141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=2990121340044680141' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/2990121340044680141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/2990121340044680141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2010/07/juliet.html' title='A Rose By Any Other Name'/><author><name>Donna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10256968491441395166</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/SL2NSeUND3I/AAAAAAAAAB8/QrRhPOQpAec/S220/donna.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/TD9ePnywIFI/AAAAAAAAAPc/VhltwuFbyjE/s72-c/juliet.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-1272807113554499579</id><published>2010-05-11T12:36:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-11T13:13:52.003-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Can you ever go back?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://sun.nls.lib.ny.us/record=b11227638"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 130px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470054805111610978" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/S-mJ3RiYnmI/AAAAAAAAAO8/-FDuZ7hrY1c/s200/saffron.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;The Saffron Kitchen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;by Yasmin Crowther&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We meet Maryam, a transplanted Iranian, as a middle-aged woman married to an Englishman and living in London. From the very beginning we know that Maryam has secrets and sadness in her past that permeate her life. When a crisis occurs involving her daughter, Sara, Maryam flees back to Iran to resolve what has haunted her all her life, leaving her family who need her and do not understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yasmin Crowther is a wonderful writer who makes us feel Maryam’s predicament and pain. Both story lines, one in London involving her husband and daughter and the other in Iran, are equally interesting and involving. There has been criticism that the transition between the two locales is jarring, but I did not experience that. There is much to think about and this would make a good choice for a book discussion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/S-mKBw0xI4I/AAAAAAAAAPE/tj7iZetEgTI/s1600/marcia.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 100px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 113px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470054985308906370" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/S-mKBw0xI4I/AAAAAAAAAPE/tj7iZetEgTI/s200/marcia.gif" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-1272807113554499579?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/1272807113554499579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=1272807113554499579' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/1272807113554499579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/1272807113554499579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2010/05/can-you-ever-go-back.html' title='Can you ever go back?'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11936544321018326588</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FdX7N27smYM/SL2apYsDr2I/AAAAAAAAAAQ/OI4JOtIga38/S220/marcia.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/S-mJ3RiYnmI/AAAAAAAAAO8/-FDuZ7hrY1c/s72-c/saffron.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-7679569029983875791</id><published>2010-05-11T12:34:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-11T13:17:28.592-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A voyage of self-discovery</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://sun.nls.lib.ny.us/record=b11593546"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 129px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470055948191793618" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/S-mK5z18AdI/AAAAAAAAAPM/4O6QMI4PdPw/s200/wifestale.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;strong&gt;The &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;Wife's Tale&lt;/span&gt; by Lori Lansens&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After having read Lansens’ prior book &lt;b&gt;The Girls&lt;/b&gt;, which I thought was wonderful, I greatly looked forward to her latest.&lt;br /&gt;After having read &lt;b&gt;The Wife’s Tale&lt;/b&gt;, I have mixed feelings. The writing is masterly, and the imagery Lansens creates does not disappoint. Mary Gooch, a 302 pound woman, has let her weight define her and her marriage. When her husband, Jimmy, does not return from work and goes missing, Mary goes on a quest from her home in Canada to Jimmy’s mother's house in Los Angeles to find him. There she meets many people who help her and she discovers herself in the process.&lt;br /&gt;My problem with the book is the unbelievability of some of Mary’s experiences and the ending which left me hanging after I greatly anticipated the way Lansens would resolve her heroine's quest. Having said all that, Lansens is still a talented writer who maintains your interest thoughout the book. For readers who like their plots not tied up neatly, I would definitely recommend this book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/S-mLKcnREaI/AAAAAAAAAPU/dFUfgRlH7Pg/s1600/marcia.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 100px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 113px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470056234014020002" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/S-mLKcnREaI/AAAAAAAAAPU/dFUfgRlH7Pg/s200/marcia.gif" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-7679569029983875791?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/7679569029983875791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=7679569029983875791' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/7679569029983875791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/7679569029983875791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2010/05/voyage-of-self-discovery.html' title='A voyage of self-discovery'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11936544321018326588</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FdX7N27smYM/SL2apYsDr2I/AAAAAAAAAAQ/OI4JOtIga38/S220/marcia.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/S-mK5z18AdI/AAAAAAAAAPM/4O6QMI4PdPw/s72-c/wifestale.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-5948749373693650891</id><published>2010-04-28T14:34:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2010-04-28T14:53:37.670-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Vichy France'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Paris'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bildungsroman'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='World War II'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='art theft'/><title type='text'>Lost Art, Lost Lives</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://sun.nls.lib.ny.us/record=b11484494" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465242510682462658" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/S9hxG3yXmcI/AAAAAAAAAOk/N4teCeuOROI/s200/picturesatexhibit.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 130px;" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Well, I have to admit that the book I just finished reading, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Pictures at an Exhibition&lt;/span&gt; by Sara Houghteling, didn't go in the direction I thought it would.  I assumed that it would be one of those "let's track down the stolen masterpiece" type of plot (which I love) but it didn't.  It actually became something much more, instead of find lost artwork it was about someone finding his soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The novel takes place during the Second World War era and tells the story of Max Berenzon, a young man who is the son of a respected and successful art dealer.  This tale is a sort of &lt;i&gt;bildungsroman &lt;/i&gt;as Max starts off as an idealistic, impetuous and immature college student whose main concerns are to follow in the family business as an art dealer and to court his father's assistant, Rose Clement.  It's pre-war Paris and though fear and uncertainty are in the air, Max has other things on his mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the second half of the book, the war has ended and Max returns to Paris after having been in hiding in the French countryside and is again obsessed with art and women as he attempts to track down his family's missing artwork and to find out what happened with his beloved Rose.  But as Max undertakes this journey, both his feelings regarding the stolen artwork and for Rose begin to change.   Once he sees how many of his friends and associates haven't returned to Paris, he begins to understand the devastating toll on human lives that the war and the Holocaust have had, and the importance of finding the artwork fades.  Max realizes there are more important things in life and his relationships with people become more meaningful as a result.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of the book, the author informs us that several of the characters were historical figures, such as the character of Rose Clement and many of the art dealers.  Rose was based on Rose Valland (former curator of Jeu de Paume) whose meticulous records of the looted artwork helped saved thousands of paintings for repatriation.  Her communication with the Free French and the Allies also prevented railcars of artwork from getting bombed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Along with the historical details and the development of Max's character, this novel has many other interesting aspects.  In the beginning, the motives of some of the characters are inexplicable, such as the strong opposition Max's father has to Max becoming an art dealer, and also how Max seems more interested in finding the stolen artwork than finding out what happened to his missing friend, Bertrand.   But as the story develops, their actions become more understandable. A very interesting and rewarding read.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/S9h_7LT30wI/AAAAAAAAAO0/sE2coVKh0YM/s1600/chris.GIF"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 100px; height: 94px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/S9h_7LT30wI/AAAAAAAAAO0/sE2coVKh0YM/s200/chris.GIF" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465258802439246594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-5948749373693650891?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/5948749373693650891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=5948749373693650891' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/5948749373693650891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/5948749373693650891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2010/04/lost-art-lost-lives.html' title='Lost Art, Lost Lives'/><author><name>Christina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02990907481549868586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SL2DGtLHZII/AAAAAAAAAJo/LckteNsxi_w/S220/chris.GIF'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/S9hxG3yXmcI/AAAAAAAAAOk/N4teCeuOROI/s72-c/picturesatexhibit.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-8954898648774958840</id><published>2010-03-02T15:21:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-02T15:43:06.497-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You and Your Perfect Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XjjnUyO49Oc/S41v6ILH3OI/AAAAAAAAADY/gQl6iK1tz-w/s1600-h/juliet-naked-hornby.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 127px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444130568978029794" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XjjnUyO49Oc/S41v6ILH3OI/AAAAAAAAADY/gQl6iK1tz-w/s200/juliet-naked-hornby.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When Duncan makes his American pilgrimage to visit sites important in Tucker Crowe's life, he brings his partner Annie with him. She is certainly no "Crowologist" like Duncan, who spends his spare time on the Internet parsing every phrase of his hero's lyrics. In fact it was the British Duncan who wrote Crowe's Wikipedia article. But she humors him to get the free trip to America, as she has given in to his whims for the fifteen long years that they've been together. She does, however, like Crowe's CD, &lt;em&gt;Juliet&lt;/em&gt;, the best break-up album ever written, and his swan song, as he hasn't put out another piece of music for the last twenty years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When they return to England, Annie opens the leftover "unimportant" mail, so it is she who discovers the review copy of Crowe's new CD, &lt;em&gt;Juliet, Naked&lt;/em&gt;, the unplugged version of his famous album. She listens to it first, and when Duncan finds out, he is so angry that he writes an extravagantly glowing review that is so over the top that she has to write a rebuttal. Duncan publishes Annie's review on his fan website to teach her a lesson, but instead she gets a personal e-mail back from Crowe himself, who likes what she wrote. This begins Annie and Tucker's secret pen-friend relationship that will torpedo the quiet lives that they have carefully cultivated and force them to decide what is truly important.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Juliet, Naked&lt;/em&gt; by Nick Hornby, is that "what if" book that all fans think about. If you could meet your favorite artist what would you say? What questions would get answered? Would you be able to deal with their humanity after you've put them up on your pedestal? You might be surprised at some of the answers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XjjnUyO49Oc/S41vpC9FXYI/AAAAAAAAADI/FjPPH78Egic/s1600-h/donna.png"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 75px; HEIGHT: 75px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444130275519192450" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XjjnUyO49Oc/S41vpC9FXYI/AAAAAAAAADI/FjPPH78Egic/s320/donna.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-8954898648774958840?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.alisweb.org/search~S8?/tJuliet+penguin/tjuliet+penguin/-3%2C0%2C0%2CB/frameset&amp;FF=tjuliet+naked&amp;1%2C1%2C/indexsort=-' title='You and Your Perfect Life'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/8954898648774958840/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=8954898648774958840' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/8954898648774958840'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/8954898648774958840'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2010/03/you-and-your-perfect-life_02.html' title='You and Your Perfect Life'/><author><name>Donna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10256968491441395166</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/SL2NSeUND3I/AAAAAAAAAB8/QrRhPOQpAec/S220/donna.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XjjnUyO49Oc/S41v6ILH3OI/AAAAAAAAADY/gQl6iK1tz-w/s72-c/juliet-naked-hornby.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-8501095179098614370</id><published>2010-01-12T14:35:00.055-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-13T12:43:37.114-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='painter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rolling Stones'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='guitarist'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='artist'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ron Wood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='autobiography'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='rock and roll'/><title type='text'>The Lies of Ron Wood</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://sun.nls.lib.ny.us/record=b11317554" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426263826552204338" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/S032M18yLDI/AAAAAAAAANg/uKnEoDZgCkk/s200/ronnie.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 133px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;What’s this, Christina is reviewing &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Ronnie&lt;/span&gt; by Ron Wood, a music biography and not something that is art related? Well surprise, besides being a musician, Ron Wood has also had some success as an artist, so I have remained true to my art theme. The next question you may have is what is my tagline all about and what are these lies? Well, just to keep this blog from becoming &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;War and Peace&lt;/span&gt;, I’ll only discuss two lies. Let me give you a little background first regarding this lively, light autobiography from a member of one of the greatest rock and roll groups of all time, the Rolling Stones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Rolling Stones have always fascinated me so I try to read as many books as I can on them. Ron Wood has never been one of my favorites but when I heard that he was a talented artist with his work having been exhibited in several galleries, I decided to give his autobiography a try. If you are interested in the later period of the Rolling Stones, the mid 1970s to the present, this book is great fun as Wood recounts the shenanigans and antics of the group as they struggle to find themselves after reaching the zenith of their success in the early seventies with such albums as &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Sticky Fingers&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Exile on Main Street&lt;/span&gt;, only to crash and burn due to substance abuse issues and subpar records. After their blues virtuoso guitarist, Mick Taylor, left the band in 1974, Ron Wood was hired in 1975 as a replacement. Wood seemed perfect and the group reinvented themselves with some fresh sounds and made a comeback in 1978 with the album &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Some Girls&lt;/span&gt;, which contained several songs that topped the charts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found the best part of this book to be about Ron Wood's childhood and how he developed his love for music and art. It turns out that his ancestors were water gypsies who had lived and worked on barges in the rivers and canals in England. The arts were highly valued by the Wood family, his parents were artistically talented and both of his brothers were also artists and musicians. I also enjoyed reading about Wood's experiences with his early rock groups, The Birds (The British band, not the American group, The Byrds), the Jeff Beck Group, and the Faces because not much has been written about those bands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The book bogs down a bit as Wood recounts episode after episode of his excesses involving drugs and alcohol. It is truly amazing that this man is still alive, he and Keith Richards are like the Frankenstein monster. At least Keith Richards appears to have cleaned up his act. The latest news (December 2009) regarding Ron Wood is that he left his wife of 23 years for a woman who is only 20 years old. There were also reports of his returning to rehab after more bouts with substance abuse. This news is a real shame as by the time you get to the end of the autobiography, it seems that Wood had finally gotten it together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ladies and gentlemen, may I now present the lies of Ron Wood:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lie #1 - Mr. Wood states that he was asked by the manager of the Yardbirds, Peter Grant, to form a new group that would be known as Led Zeppelin. Wood says that he turned down the offer which led to Grant hiring Jimmy Page. Meanwhile, the truth of the matter is that Led Zeppelin was Jimmy Page's idea from day one. He was the guitarist for the Yardbirds and when that group disbanded, Page decided to form the New Yardbirds which became Led Zeppelin. This is an accepted fact, so Wood's story is simply perplexing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lie #2 - Mr. Wood states that he was the Rolling Stones' first choice to replace Brian Jones (a founding member with multi-instrumentalist capabilities, he could play the guitar, harmonica, piano, sitar, dulcimer, marimbas, recorder, mellotron, and more, it actually would have taken 10 people to have replaced him!) in 1969. He says that Mick Jagger called to ask him to join the Stones but Ronnie Lane, his bandmate in The Faces, had answered the phone and not wanting to lose a&amp;nbsp;vital member of his band, told Jagger that Wood wouldn't be interested. I have read several books about the Rolling Stones and none of them say anything about this story. All of them are in consensus that Mick Taylor was the one and only choice to replace Jones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In conclusion, if you're interested in the rock and roll world, this book is a breezy romp, an enjoyable light read as long as you take Wood's stories with a grain of salt. If you are interested in some better books about the Rolling Stones and their world, I highly recommend &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Stone Alone&lt;/span&gt; by Bill Wyman, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The True Adventures of the Rolling Stones&lt;/span&gt; by Stanley Booth, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Altamont: Death of Innocence in the Woodstock Nation&lt;/span&gt; by Jonathan Eisen, S&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;.T.P: A Journey Through America With the Rolling Stones&lt;/span&gt; by Robert Greenfield, and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Faithfull &lt;/span&gt;by Marianne Faithfull.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://sun.nls.lib.ny.us/record=b11317554" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/S03257-CGRI/AAAAAAAAANo/Juh8MtLbkfM/s1600-h/chris.GIF" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426264601262168338" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/S03257-CGRI/AAAAAAAAANo/Juh8MtLbkfM/s200/chris.GIF" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 94px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 100px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-8501095179098614370?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/8501095179098614370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=8501095179098614370' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/8501095179098614370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/8501095179098614370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2010/01/lies-of-ron-wood.html' title='The Lies of Ron Wood'/><author><name>Christina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02990907481549868586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SL2DGtLHZII/AAAAAAAAAJo/LckteNsxi_w/S220/chris.GIF'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/S032M18yLDI/AAAAAAAAANg/uKnEoDZgCkk/s72-c/ronnie.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-1248026690811765239</id><published>2010-01-09T09:05:00.034-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-12T09:05:44.038-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Guilt'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alcoholism'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Forgiveness'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Drunk Driving'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Blame'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Recovery'/><title type='text'>Okay, what’d I do?  Did I Kill Someone?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.alisweb.org/search%7ES60?/tblame/tblame/1%2C36%2C47%2CB/frameset&amp;amp;FF=tblame&amp;amp;1%2C%2C2"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424743172844157778" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left; width: 132px; height: 200px;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XjjnUyO49Oc/S0iPLJcZ-1I/AAAAAAAAACw/OvI8PA1OF2s/s200/blame.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Blame&lt;/strong&gt; by Michelle Huneven&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Waking from an alcoholic blackout in jail (not for the first time), college professor Patsy MacLamoore jokingly utters these questions and is shocked when the police say yes. Apparently Patsy has run over and killed two Jehovah's Witnesses -a mother and child-in her driveway. Patsy has no memory of the event, but given her history of drinking, DWI and wild behavior, she comes to accept her role in the tragedy. Now she must answer the question how do you go on with your life knowing you have taken the lives of others. Throughout her journey - going to prison, coming to terms with her alcoholism, her attempts to make amends for her actions and to rebuild her life - she is haunted by this question. Then decades later, Patsy gets some news that again forces her to re-evaluate her life. Well written with believable characters, this novel is an interesting psychological study of guilt, blame, finding redemption and forgiveness. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XjjnUyO49Oc/S0iaoNK38AI/AAAAAAAAAC4/EEmMcLU6Mt8/s1600-h/janine.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424755766688477186" style="width: 100px; height: 105px;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XjjnUyO49Oc/S0iaoNK38AI/AAAAAAAAAC4/EEmMcLU6Mt8/s200/janine.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-1248026690811765239?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/1248026690811765239/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=1248026690811765239' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/1248026690811765239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/1248026690811765239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2010/01/what-did-i-do-kill-someone.html' title='Okay, what’d I do?  Did I Kill Someone?'/><author><name>Janine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14737496376981000304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XjjnUyO49Oc/S0iPLJcZ-1I/AAAAAAAAACw/OvI8PA1OF2s/s72-c/blame.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-4249317391001139281</id><published>2009-12-07T09:21:00.027-05:00</published><updated>2010-01-12T09:42:33.551-05:00</updated><title type='text'>No One's Indispensable</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://sun.nls.lib.ny.us/record=b11567465"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 110px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 180px" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425291953618630626" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/S0qCSZI5N-I/AAAAAAAAAH4/GJSeswvGdAo/s320/BLOG110.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;In &lt;i&gt;The Unit,&lt;/i&gt; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Ninni&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Holmqvist&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt; &lt;/i&gt;posits a country that mandates free lodging, food, and recreation for all men and women who are past child-bearing age and have still not procreated. However there is a catch. In order to be useful to their communities, all of these "dispensable" people are required to serve as guinea pigs for health experiments, and to have their tissues and organs harvested when needed, making the "ultimate sacrifice" as heart and lung donors. On her 50&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; birthday, writer &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Dorrit&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Weger&lt;/span&gt; enters the Second Reserve Bank and is shown her apartment. At the nightly welcoming party, she meets several like-minded people and begins to enjoy new friendships created through proximity and mutual interests. Since she is very physically fit and youthful, she is first assigned to a study measuring the effects of exercise on older women. But while she participates in this study, her friends start having health problems related to their assignments, and some of them disappear. Surprisingly, she falls in love with one of the men in her unit and the resulting complications threaten the whole equilibrium of this government program.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;The&lt;/i&gt; &lt;i&gt;Unit&lt;/i&gt; is a chilling peek at logic gone awry-&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Holmqvist&lt;/span&gt; creates a very believable future where the rights of individuals are suspended for the good of the public. Expect discussions to be heated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 75px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 75px" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260513819400767330" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/SQEZcoVqh2I/AAAAAAAAADM/xZOpwjmM7LQ/s200/donna.png" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-4249317391001139281?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/4249317391001139281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=4249317391001139281' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/4249317391001139281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/4249317391001139281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2009/12/no-ones-indispensable.html' title='No One&apos;s Indispensable'/><author><name>Donna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10256968491441395166</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/SL2NSeUND3I/AAAAAAAAAB8/QrRhPOQpAec/S220/donna.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/S0qCSZI5N-I/AAAAAAAAAH4/GJSeswvGdAo/s72-c/BLOG110.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-8741415903789720106</id><published>2009-11-24T11:22:00.019-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-29T15:39:57.430-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Have to Admit...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.alisweb.org/search~S60?/akorelitz/akorelitz/1%2C1%2C8%2CB/frameset&amp;amp;FF=akorelitz+jean+hanff+1961&amp;amp;1%2C%2C8"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409625198830071970" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 140px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 196px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/SxLZdPhEsKI/AAAAAAAAAHs/tX-XYFPN-vM/s320/Jacket.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Portia Nathan's job is to read high school applications for Princeton University throughout the school year, and help decide which applicants get the coveted slots and which applications get shredded and burned. As the admissions process continues, her life unwinds...she loses her unmarried lover to a woman willing to have his baby; her radical 60's mother views sheltering a pregnant teenager as a second chance to successfully mold a daughter; and the remnants of a college affair come back to haunt her. Portia is given the opportunity to right some wrongs from her past, but will she have the courage to do what needs to be done? In &lt;em&gt;Admission, &lt;/em&gt;Korelitz, author of &lt;em&gt;Sabbathday River, &lt;/em&gt;mines her experiences as a Princeton admissions officer to offer a novel of secrets and consequences. Also, the reader gets a peek into the competitive world of college admissions and may obtain some pointers on structuring a winning application.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 75px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 75px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SbmNXSGXyiI/AAAAAAAAAMg/C5m0us6nKV4/s200/donna.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-8741415903789720106?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/8741415903789720106/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=8741415903789720106' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/8741415903789720106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/8741415903789720106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-have-to-admit.html' title='I Have to Admit...'/><author><name>Donna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10256968491441395166</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/SL2NSeUND3I/AAAAAAAAAB8/QrRhPOQpAec/S220/donna.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/SxLZdPhEsKI/AAAAAAAAAHs/tX-XYFPN-vM/s72-c/Jacket.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-2709176902437896212</id><published>2009-10-21T14:49:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-22T15:40:25.067-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Visit Venice in a wonderful new book!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://sun.nls.lib.ny.us/record=b11566932"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 134px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SuCzi-LhiYI/AAAAAAAAAMw/CDbsyk2UGVM/s200/glassblower.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395509766978111874" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Glassblower of Murano by Marina Fiorato&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Glassblower of Murano takes place in both the present and the past in alternating chapters. Switching between modern-day and seventeenth-century Venice, Fiorato’s novel is an intriguing mix of history, mystery, art, music, poetry, romance, and politics.English artist Leonora Manin is hired as an apprentice glassblower in Murano, an island near the mainland of Venice. Her story interweaves with that of her ancestor, master glassmaker Corradino Manin, and the intrigue that surrounds him. Only by finding out what happened many years ago will Leonora find happiness.This book will appeal to romantics, to historical fiction aficionados and anyone who just loves a good story well told. I highly recommend it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SuC0dSCsPVI/AAAAAAAAAM4/e8Xs8mlmK4g/s1600-h/marcia.gif"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SuC0-CaYg3I/AAAAAAAAANA/zxyULMgt16E/s1600-h/marcia.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 100px; height: 113px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SuC0-CaYg3I/AAAAAAAAANA/zxyULMgt16E/s200/marcia.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395511331482272626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-2709176902437896212?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/2709176902437896212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=2709176902437896212' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/2709176902437896212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/2709176902437896212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2009/10/glassblower-of-murano.html' title='Visit Venice in a wonderful new book!'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11936544321018326588</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FdX7N27smYM/SL2apYsDr2I/AAAAAAAAAAQ/OI4JOtIga38/S220/marcia.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SuCzi-LhiYI/AAAAAAAAAMw/CDbsyk2UGVM/s72-c/glassblower.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-669427078813910302</id><published>2009-03-12T13:28:00.013-04:00</published><updated>2009-03-12T18:33:09.303-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I like soup. Do you like soup?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://sun.nls.lib.ny.us/record=b11391766"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 132px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SbmMsaVLbpI/AAAAAAAAAMY/v-D_ygqdaq8/s200/lacereader.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312431930070494866" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Lace Reader&lt;/strong&gt;, by Brunonia Barry, is a story woven like Massachusetts Ipswich lace, it is intricate, complicated, and its imperfections and uneven texture make it extremely suspenseful and sometimes maddening. The story revolves around Towner Whitney, a 32 year member of an old, quirky New England family, who works as a script reader in California. She is summoned back to her hometown of Salem on the occasion of the disappearance of her favorite relative, Eva. The old woman runs a tearoom out of her house near the Salem Commons, and is expert at reading lace, a method of fortune-telling. When Towner returns, the police discover Eva's drowned body, and after the funeral she finds that she has inherited Eva's estate. While she decides how to cope with her new responsiblities, she starts spending time with local police detective Rafferty, who has been investigating Eva's drowning. Cal, black sheep of the Whitney family and former spousal abuser, has "found God" and has become an evangelist preacher, and leader of a congregation of misfits and ex-drug addicts. When one of Cal's congregants goes missing, Rafferty suspects that Cal and his followers were involved. While investigating both of the crimes, Rafferty delves into Towner's history of psychic events, hallucinations, and her stay in a mental hospital. The return of Towner Whitney to Salem begins the process of truth, healing, and peace, that Eva's death set in motion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SbmNXSGXyiI/AAAAAAAAAMg/C5m0us6nKV4/s1600-h/donna.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 75px; height: 75px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SbmNXSGXyiI/AAAAAAAAAMg/C5m0us6nKV4/s200/donna.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312432666595281442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-669427078813910302?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/669427078813910302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=669427078813910302' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/669427078813910302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/669427078813910302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2009/03/do-you-like-soup-i-like-soup.html' title='I like soup. Do you like soup?'/><author><name>Donna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10256968491441395166</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/SL2NSeUND3I/AAAAAAAAAB8/QrRhPOQpAec/S220/donna.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SbmMsaVLbpI/AAAAAAAAAMY/v-D_ygqdaq8/s72-c/lacereader.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-6764332684504836558</id><published>2009-01-13T09:51:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-13T09:58:17.024-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Before CSI There Was...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.alisweb.org/search~S8?/Ysuspicions+of&amp;amp;searchscope=8&amp;amp;SORT=DZ/Ysuspicions+of&amp;amp;searchscope=8&amp;amp;SORT=DZ&amp;amp;SUBKEY=suspicions%20of/1%2C21%2C21%2CB/frameset&amp;amp;FF=Ysuspicions+of&amp;amp;searchscope=8&amp;amp;SORT=DZ&amp;amp;1%2C1%2C"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289682300930682530" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 154px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 242px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XjjnUyO49Oc/SWi6Btmk7qI/AAAAAAAAACM/IgRVMYD1nmY/s400/21671557.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;The Suspicions of Mr. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Whicher&lt;/span&gt;: Murder and the Undoing of a Great Victorian Detective&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;by Kate &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Summerscale&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;In 1860, a three year old English boy disappears from his room in Road Hill House, where his nursemaid and younger sister sleep. He is later found with his throat cut in a privy and the case quickly becomes a media sensation. When local law enforcement fails to make progress, Scotland Yard sends the best of their eight detectives - Mr. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Whicher&lt;/span&gt;- to investigate. This sparks a national &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;fascination&lt;/span&gt; with detectives and inspires the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;detective&lt;/span&gt; fiction genre. Charles Dickens wrote his theories of the case to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Wilkie&lt;/span&gt; Collins, who in turn based his Sgt. Cuff in The Moonstone upon Mr &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Whicher&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the Scotland Yard Detective arrives at Road Hill he finds limited evidence, but a multitude of suspects and family secrets. When he accuses and arrests the boy's sixteen year old half sister of the crime, the tide of public opinion turns against him, refusing to believe a family member could commit such a crime. Mr &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Wilcher&lt;/span&gt; returns to London in disgrace, leaving the crime unsolved, until years later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More then a true crime story, this is a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;fascinating&lt;/span&gt; peek into the lives and minds of middle class Victorian England as well as the society as a whole. The research is impressive and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;thoroughly&lt;/span&gt; documented with footnotes and references, but at the same time it is an enjoyable read.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SL15nED576I/AAAAAAAAAJQ/iyBdZA0kXNQ/s1600-h/janine.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241479253341106082" style="CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SL15nED576I/AAAAAAAAAJQ/iyBdZA0kXNQ/s200/janine.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-6764332684504836558?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/6764332684504836558/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=6764332684504836558' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/6764332684504836558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/6764332684504836558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2008/11/before-csi-there-was.html' title='Before CSI There Was...'/><author><name>Janine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14737496376981000304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XjjnUyO49Oc/SWi6Btmk7qI/AAAAAAAAACM/IgRVMYD1nmY/s72-c/21671557.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-6163214956567849672</id><published>2009-01-08T19:27:00.029-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-14T07:34:28.137-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='San Francisco'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='colma'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='police'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cemetery'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ghosts'/><title type='text'>In a Colma</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://sun.nls.lib.ny.us/record=b11387631"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289086214977558546" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; WIDTH: 131px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/SWab48YnGBI/AAAAAAAAADs/1icHdhZO6FE/s200/necropolis.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Mercer is a rookie cop, a straight arrow sort, who can quote "The Rule Book," chapter and verse. His beat is Colma, California, the cemetery capital of the San Francisco Bay area. One night, while patrolling Cypress Lawn, he stumbles into what looks like a drug related crime involving a teenager. Mercer finds the boy naked and bound with duct tape, stuffed in a burial chamber in an obscure part of the cemetery. As the police rush the barely breathing boy to a hospital, Lilly Hitchcock Coit (of Coit Tower fame) observes the police cars and ambulances with interest. Though she is dead, she has not eaten the root of oblivion, and can still haunt the living world. As she passes, Mercer senses something not quite right, but sees nothing disturbing. Lilly is excited to note another potential "crosser," and hopes that he will be stronger than the last one. Can Mercer become the hero he desperately wants to be?&lt;br /&gt;Doug Dorst in &lt;strong&gt;Alive in Necropolis &lt;/strong&gt;spins a tale of trouble in the intertwined worlds of ghosts and humans with Mercer caught in the middle of both. The earthside story of Jude, the troubled youth found in the graveyard, blends with that of a deadly gang of ghosts bent on sending the spirits of the cemetery to their real deaths. Dorst skillfully creates two believable worlds of the imagination, using many of the old colorful characters who thrived in the crazy town of San Francisco. Strange and different, this is a book for readers who won't mind if their police procedurals are turned upside down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/SWac-mMqwKI/AAAAAAAAAD0/ISgh-AD-ebM/s1600-h/donna.png"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5289087411612729506" style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 75px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 75px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/SWac-mMqwKI/AAAAAAAAAD0/ISgh-AD-ebM/s200/donna.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-6163214956567849672?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/6163214956567849672/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=6163214956567849672' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/6163214956567849672'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/6163214956567849672'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2009/01/in-colma.html' title='In a Colma'/><author><name>Donna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10256968491441395166</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/SL2NSeUND3I/AAAAAAAAAB8/QrRhPOQpAec/S220/donna.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/SWab48YnGBI/AAAAAAAAADs/1icHdhZO6FE/s72-c/necropolis.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-2590600576990426300</id><published>2008-12-17T09:50:00.018-05:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T10:27:12.734-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Sense of Belonging</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://sun.nls.lib.ny.us/search~S60?/tbelong+to+me/tbelong+to+me/1%2C3%2C6%2CB/frameset&amp;FF=tbelong+to+me&amp;3%2C%2C4"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283017932944504194" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 132px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/SVEM0cMs9YI/AAAAAAAAADk/yvGBPThsTko/s200/belong.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;In Marisa de los Santos' book, &lt;strong&gt;Belong to Me&lt;/strong&gt;, we meet Cornelia and Theo, childhood friends who seemed to have been destined to marry. When they move from NYC to a small town near Philadelphia to be near his hospital, they hope to find more togetherness time and a few good neighbors. Within a week Cornelia meets a smart friendly waitress and the town trendsetter, two women who will change her life. Piper (aka Viper) is the perfect suburban mother, the kind who wears makeup and linen pants to the bus stop. Her husband is spending a lot of "overtime" at the office, but her friend is dying and she doesn't notice or care about anything else. Lake, the waitress, is an earth mother type with a great sense of humor and a mysterious past that she takes pains to conceal. She moved across country ostensibly to place her genius son in a great charter school, but Dev suspects that she is really tracking his father. The lives of these characters intertwine in very unexpected ways culminating in the revelation that might destroy a marriage.&lt;br /&gt;     If you're looking for a good read with well-drawn characters and lots of surprises, this book might "belong" on your bedside table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260513819400767330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 75px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 75px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/SQEZcoVqh2I/AAAAAAAAADM/xZOpwjmM7LQ/s200/donna.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-2590600576990426300?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.alisweb.org/search~S60?/tbelong+to+me/tbelong+to+me/1%2C3%2C6%2CB/frameset&amp;FF=tbelong+to+me&amp;3%2C%2C4' title='A Sense of Belonging'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/2590600576990426300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=2590600576990426300' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/2590600576990426300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/2590600576990426300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2008/12/sense-of-belonging.html' title='A Sense of Belonging'/><author><name>Donna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10256968491441395166</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/SL2NSeUND3I/AAAAAAAAAB8/QrRhPOQpAec/S220/donna.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/SVEM0cMs9YI/AAAAAAAAADk/yvGBPThsTko/s72-c/belong.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-253178192628512896</id><published>2008-12-10T15:24:00.028-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T19:31:42.414-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Van Meegeren'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='art forgery'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Vermeer'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Holland'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Goering'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Nazis'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='World War II'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fake'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='criticism'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='books'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='trial'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='review'/><title type='text'>When a Vermeer isn't a Vermeer, or I Bought What?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://sun.nls.lib.ny.us/record=b11405398"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 131px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SUA99YDYhWI/AAAAAAAAAL4/j2xcqiGjbsg/s200/forgersspell.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278286887916176738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;When is a painting considered a treasured masterpiece worth millions of dollars and then in a blink of an eye, it's an embarrassment viewed as poor quality art worth a few dollars at most? Read &lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Forger's Spell:  A True Story of Vermeer, Nazis, and the Greatest Art Hoax of the Twentieth Century&lt;/span&gt; by Edward Dolnick and you'll find out the answer to that question as this book explores the true story of Han van Meegeren, a Dutch forger who fooled most of the art world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Van Meegeren was a second rate artist who successfully painted several works which he passed off as having been done by Johannes Vermeer. The forgeries have many flaws in them, making one wonder how the art world was duped into believing that the works were authentic. While Van Meegeren wasn't gifted in artistic technique, he was skilled in the psychology of forgery. He knew that if he could get art critics to authenticate the artwork, there wouldn't be much problem in getting eager art collectors to purchase them.  He developed a technique to age his paintings so that they would pass scientific tests done to verify the age of the materials. Abraham Bredius, who was considered to be the leading authority on Vermeer, judged one of Van Meegren's forgeries as being authentic, and the rest of the art world jumped on board and agreed that the painting was 100% genuine.  &lt;p&gt;After that, it was smooth sailing for Van Meegeren until he was arrested after World War II had ended and he was charged with collaborating with the enemy.  What happened was that he was connected with the sale of what was thought to be a genuine Vermeer, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Christ and the Woman Taken in Adultery&lt;/span&gt;, but it was really one of his forgeries.  The painting ended up being sold to Nazi Hermann Goering, who was a fanatical collector of art masterpieces.  The sale of a national treasure to an enemy was a crime that was punishable by death.  Since forgery was a far less serious crime, Van Meegeren confessed that he had really painted the supposed Vermeer, unfortunately no one believed him.  In court, to show that he really was the painter of the Vermeer in question, he demonstrated his technique and was able to convince the court that his story was true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This book raises many issues regarding the art world, including the debate over what is art, egoistic art critics who authenticate artwork by instinct rather than through scientific investigation, and the plundering of art during wartime.  Van Meegeren had been angry at the art world because his paintings were criticized for being trite and not innovative.  He felt that the art critics were hypocritical and he certainly got his revenge when his forgeries were promoted as beautifully painted genuine masterpieces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;My one criticism regarding the book is that it had a lot of buildup and seemed to take awhile before it got to the climax of the court trial.   There were many preliminary chapters about other forgers, forgery techniques, and other information that could have been edited down a bit.  Other than that, I found the subject very intriguing.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SUA-Kp82m8I/AAAAAAAAAMA/4cOxkOdzT64/s1600-h/chris.GIF"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 100px; height: 94px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SUA-Kp82m8I/AAAAAAAAAMA/4cOxkOdzT64/s200/chris.GIF" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278287116058926018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-253178192628512896?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/253178192628512896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=253178192628512896' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/253178192628512896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/253178192628512896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2008/12/when-vermeer-isnt-vermeer-or-i-bought.html' title='When a Vermeer isn&apos;t a Vermeer, or I Bought What?'/><author><name>Christina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02990907481549868586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SL2DGtLHZII/AAAAAAAAAJo/LckteNsxi_w/S220/chris.GIF'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SUA99YDYhWI/AAAAAAAAAL4/j2xcqiGjbsg/s72-c/forgersspell.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-9194120878605004998</id><published>2008-11-14T10:17:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T11:06:41.396-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Travel back in time</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://sun.nls.lib.ny.us/record=b10635270"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 130px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SSLnQtA1M8I/AAAAAAAAALI/AqN8Hw-pO3w/s200/timeandagain.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270028788123907010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;TIME AND AGAIN by Jack Finney&lt;br /&gt;Such a great book! It is one of my all-time favorites. A book that has the magic to allure you with the wonder of time traveling back to a simpler time.  Finney, with meticulous detail and the support of numerous old photographs, recreates New York in 1882. We and the main character, Si Morley, marvel as we walk over the old streets, see places where one day great skyscrapers will stand, gaze on a traffic jam of hansom cabs, and discover the arm of the Statue of Liberty sitting in Madison Square awaiting the rest of its body. There’s a mystery, suspense and wonderful writing. You must read this!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SSLnwWBTuaI/AAAAAAAAALY/htsqOP8Sn3M/s1600-h/marcia.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 100px; height: 113px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SSLnwWBTuaI/AAAAAAAAALY/htsqOP8Sn3M/s200/marcia.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270029331707705762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-9194120878605004998?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/9194120878605004998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=9194120878605004998' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/9194120878605004998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/9194120878605004998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2008/11/travel-back-in-time.html' title='Travel back in time'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11936544321018326588</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FdX7N27smYM/SL2apYsDr2I/AAAAAAAAAAQ/OI4JOtIga38/S220/marcia.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SSLnQtA1M8I/AAAAAAAAALI/AqN8Hw-pO3w/s72-c/timeandagain.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-1264905760214094164</id><published>2008-11-12T18:08:00.020-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T20:09:29.174-05:00</updated><title type='text'>When Death Tells a Story You Better Listen</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://sun.nls.lib.ny.us/record=b11179594"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268208083643675442" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XjjnUyO49Oc/SRxvVwRsMzI/AAAAAAAAACE/oYGA6BK4LjY/s200/book+thief.jpg" style="float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 134px;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 130%;"&gt;The Book Thief by Markus &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Zusak&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Death has been extremely busy in World War II Germany, so he is surprised when his attention is caught by a young girl. He first notices her when he comes to pick up the spirit of her brother and sees her steal her first book (The Grave Digger's Handbook). This girl &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Liesel&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Meminger&lt;/span&gt; leaves such an impression that he feels compelled to share her story - and it's some story. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Liesel&lt;/span&gt; is an illiterate daughter of communists who is placed in a foster home by her mother. Her foster parents, Hans, a kind painter and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;accordian&lt;/span&gt; player and Rosa &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Hubermann&lt;/span&gt; who is quick with sharp word (she especially enjoys calling people &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Saumensch&lt;/span&gt;-filthy pigs) give her a loving home. Hans also gives her a gift, one that will sustain her through the difficulties that lie ahead, he teaches her how to read. Along with her friend Rudy, who once painted himself black and pretended to be Jesse Owens as a tribute, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Liesel&lt;/span&gt; tries to survive the tumultuous times. Faced with hunger, bombings, book burnings, Nazis, fear and suspicion, &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Liesal&lt;/span&gt; steals and reads books to cope. Then things become even more difficult and dangerous when her foster parents hide a Jewish man, Max in their basement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The narrative style of the novel is interesting, with &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;plenty&lt;/span&gt; of asides and &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;foreshadowing&lt;/span&gt;. The story is heart wrenching at times and heartwarming at others and you can't help rooting for the strong, yet vulnerable &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Liesel&lt;/span&gt;. Quirky and intelligent, it is a great read. Interestingly this book was first &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;marketed&lt;/span&gt; in the United States as a young adult book, but quickly became popular with adults as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SL15nED576I/AAAAAAAAAJQ/iyBdZA0kXNQ/s1600-h/janine.gif" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241479253341106082" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SL15nED576I/AAAAAAAAAJQ/iyBdZA0kXNQ/s200/janine.gif" style="cursor: pointer;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-1264905760214094164?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/1264905760214094164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=1264905760214094164' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/1264905760214094164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/1264905760214094164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2008/11/when-death-tells-story-you-better.html' title='When Death Tells a Story You Better Listen'/><author><name>Janine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14737496376981000304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XjjnUyO49Oc/SRxvVwRsMzI/AAAAAAAAACE/oYGA6BK4LjY/s72-c/book+thief.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-5987186831907597806</id><published>2008-11-05T12:58:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-05T16:40:20.908-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The past haunts the present</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://sun.nls.lib.ny.us/record=b11226483"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 133px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SRISfo3-vKI/AAAAAAAAAK4/h736SGJuzc4/s200/thosesave.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265291249106992290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;THOSE WHO SAVE US by Jenna Blum&lt;br /&gt;Family secrets of Nazi Germany are at the core of this powerful first novel told in two narratives that alternate between New Heidelberg, Minnesota, in the present, and the small town of Weimar near Buchenwald during World War II. Trudy is a professor of German history in Minnesota, where she's teaching a seminar on women's roles in Nazi Germany and conducting interviews with Germans about how they're dealing with what they did during the war. But her mother, Anna, won't talk about it, not even to her own daughter. Trudy knows, she remembers, that Anna was mistress to a big Nazi camp officer. Why did she do it? Was he Trudy's father?&lt;br /&gt;A great book for discussion groups and a wonderful study in how our past influences our present.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SRISqwKM_vI/AAAAAAAAALA/QA46Wp-rZGE/s1600-h/marcia.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 100px; height: 113px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SRISqwKM_vI/AAAAAAAAALA/QA46Wp-rZGE/s200/marcia.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265291440041033458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-5987186831907597806?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/5987186831907597806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=5987186831907597806' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/5987186831907597806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/5987186831907597806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2008/11/past-haunts-present.html' title='The past haunts the present'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11936544321018326588</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FdX7N27smYM/SL2apYsDr2I/AAAAAAAAAAQ/OI4JOtIga38/S220/marcia.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SRISfo3-vKI/AAAAAAAAAK4/h736SGJuzc4/s72-c/thosesave.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-2225958413156888617</id><published>2008-10-31T10:55:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-11-03T12:56:51.272-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Jewish in an Arab World</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://sun.nls.lib.ny.us/record=b11300876"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 127px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SQ8rp8wu4CI/AAAAAAAAAKo/2DnwWojEQtU/s200/shiraz.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264474489104556066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;SEPTEMBERS OF SHIRAZ by Dalia Sofer is based on the author’s family who escaped from Iran in 1982 when she was 10, and her story mirrors her family’s experiences. On a September day in 1981, gem trader Isaac Amin is accosted by Revolutionary Guards at his Tehran office and imprisoned for no other crime than being Jewish in a country where Muslim fanaticism is growing daily. In anguish over what might be happening to his family, Isaac watches the brutal mutilation and executions of prisoners around him. His wife, Farnaz, struggles to keep from slipping into despair, while his young daughter, Shirin, steals files from the home of a playmate whose father is in charge of the prison that holds her father. Far away in Brooklyn, Isaac's nonreligious son, Parviz, struggles without his family's money and falls for the pious daughter of his Hasidic landlord. The heartbreak of a family who wishes to be Iranian in a country that reminds them and punishes them for who they are fills the reader with sadness. The story is very well told and the reader feels vividly their pain. Reading this in tandem withThe Man in the White Sharkskin Suit by Lucille Lagnado is a revelation of struggles in the Arab world to be Jewish and accepted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SQ87Owh9EqI/AAAAAAAAAKw/yQYUrq-mzTw/s1600-h/marcia.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 100px; height: 113px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SQ87Owh9EqI/AAAAAAAAAKw/yQYUrq-mzTw/s200/marcia.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264491614150922914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-2225958413156888617?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/2225958413156888617/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=2225958413156888617' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/2225958413156888617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/2225958413156888617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2008/10/jewish-in-arab-world.html' title='Jewish in an Arab World'/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11936544321018326588</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FdX7N27smYM/SL2apYsDr2I/AAAAAAAAAAQ/OI4JOtIga38/S220/marcia.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SQ8rp8wu4CI/AAAAAAAAAKo/2DnwWojEQtU/s72-c/shiraz.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-8704287709799569244</id><published>2008-10-23T18:56:00.014-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T19:11:21.817-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='silent movies'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sessue hayakawa'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='criticism'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='japanese americans'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='review'/><title type='text'>I'm Ready For My Close-Up</title><content type='html'>Why did Jun Nakayama abandon his silent film career at the height of his popularity? In &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Age of Dreaming&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, Nina Revoyr narrates the story of a handsome Japanese movie star who, in the early 1900's, took Hollywood by storm. &lt;a href="http://sun.nls.lib.ny.us/record=b11346225"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260487227312087234" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 127px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/SQEBQxFqoMI/AAAAAAAAADE/YkO2Eq1yqG0/s200/dreaming.jpeg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; In collaboration with the famous director Ashley Tyler, and the sophisticated actress, Elizabeth Banks, Nakayama made several intriguing films that brought him popular and critical aclaim. But after ten years of fame he abandoned his career and began a quiet life in obscurity. Revoyr starts her tale in the 1960's when Nakayama is "rediscovered" by Bellinger, a screenwriter who has studied his movies and thinks he would be perfect for a part in his new script. While researching Nakayama's films, he becomes captivated by the still unsoved murder of Ashley Tyler, and tries to link this mystery to the japanese actor. As Nakayama revisits his past to try to prevent the truth from being revealed, he begins to realize that his choices had consequences that affected the lives of many people, and that he still might have a chance at redemption.&lt;br /&gt;Unspooling slowly, like a silent movie,&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt; The Age of Dreaming&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; goes beyond the murder mystery, into the craft of film-making itself. After reading the novel, I researched collections of silent films, and promised that I would look beyond the comedies of Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin to explore some of the dramatic films that are still available. Through Revoyr's characters, who are based on real people who lived in the Hollywood movie community, the silent film tradition is revived and celebrated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5260513819400767330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 75px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 75px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/SQEZcoVqh2I/AAAAAAAAADM/xZOpwjmM7LQ/s200/donna.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-8704287709799569244?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/8704287709799569244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=8704287709799569244' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/8704287709799569244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/8704287709799569244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2008/10/im-ready-for-my-close-up.html' title='I&apos;m Ready For My Close-Up'/><author><name>Donna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10256968491441395166</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/SL2NSeUND3I/AAAAAAAAAB8/QrRhPOQpAec/S220/donna.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/SQEBQxFqoMI/AAAAAAAAADE/YkO2Eq1yqG0/s72-c/dreaming.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-9161710535353687950</id><published>2008-08-30T08:41:00.034-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T19:08:40.124-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cooperstown'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='criticism'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='review'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='loch ness monster'/><title type='text'>You can't go home again (or can you?)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.alisweb.org/search~S8?/tmonsters+of+te/tmonsters+of+te/1%2C1%2C2%2CB/frameset&amp;amp;FF=tmonsters+of+templeton+a+novel&amp;amp;1%2C%2C2/indexsort=-"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241506234713935506" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/SL2SJlgejpI/AAAAAAAAACs/9iCHCICLEjI/s200/templeton.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Pregnant, ashamed, and tired, grad student Willi Upton returns home to Templeton where she knows she can recuperate in the only place that never changes. Templeton (read Cooperstown), however, is failing to cooperate. Glimmy, the town's answer to the Loch Ness Monster, dies and surfaces in the middle of Lake Glimmerglass. Her hippy single mom is dating a conservative preacher and joins him in prayer for Willi's soul. The dumb jock heart-throb who never left town after high school is wooing her with words like "hegemony."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;While she waits for her married archeology professor to call and profess his undying love for her and their child-to-be, her mother proposes a research project. Willi knows that she is twice related to Marmaduke Temple, founder of their town. She had always been told that her father was one of three random men at a hippy gathering, but her mom revealed that this was a tale concocted to preserve his identity. She challenges her daughter to read letters and genealogical archives that pertain to her family and deduce her true biological roots. The only clue her mother gives her is that, like Willi, her father also had family ties to Templeton's founder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Lyrically written, &lt;strong&gt;The Monsters of Templeton&lt;/strong&gt; by Lauren Groff makes the small upstate town of Templeton the main character of this novel. Groff explores the history of Templeton through its residents' stories; including those of the original Native Americans, settlers, town characters, and literary figures. In the end, Willi learns how to redefine the meaning of family, and how to finally embrace change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SL2nZaPHX1I/AAAAAAAAAKQ/WvvS4HJsmrM/s1600-h/donna.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241529596310413138" style="CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SL2nZaPHX1I/AAAAAAAAAKQ/WvvS4HJsmrM/s200/donna.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-9161710535353687950?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/9161710535353687950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=9161710535353687950' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/9161710535353687950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/9161710535353687950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2008/08/you-cant-go-home-again-or-can-you.html' title='You can&apos;t go home again (or can you?)'/><author><name>Donna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10256968491441395166</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/SL2NSeUND3I/AAAAAAAAAB8/QrRhPOQpAec/S220/donna.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/SL2SJlgejpI/AAAAAAAAACs/9iCHCICLEjI/s72-c/templeton.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-1909206976803231420</id><published>2008-08-18T10:41:00.015-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T19:39:03.096-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='scandal'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='adultery'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Frank Lloyd Wright'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mamah Cheney'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='criticism'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='books'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='architecture'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='review'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='architect'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feminism'/><title type='text'>A New Design on Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://sun.nls.lib.ny.us/record=b11306593" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235868795661315058" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SKmK7cfx6_I/AAAAAAAAAFA/7afnyIcBZuA/s200/lovingfrank.jpg" style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; float: left;" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;Loving Frank&lt;/span&gt; by Nancy Horan is one of those novels that makes one reflect upon the role of women, and the degree of progression that has occurred over the last 100 years or so.  Even though his name is in the title, this book isn't about the great American architect, Frank Lloyd Wright.   Well, it is and it isn't.  The focus of this historical novel is on Mamah Borthwick Cheney, a woman Wright had fallen in love with after designing a new home for her and her husband Edwin.  Wright is more than just her lover, he is the catalyst that ignites a fire within her to embark upon a whole new life.  A life where she has the freedom to have a career of her choosing and her own identity, instead of just being Mrs. Edwin Cheney.  It is an age of modernization as Wright tries to usher out the old classical style of architecture and introduce one that is more natural and practical.  Meanwhile, Mamah Cheney is trying to bring in a new era where women are able to have a spouse and career of their choosing.  Unfortunately, neither one of them has an easy time as the constraints of society try to force them into the conventional way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mamah Cheney makes the difficult decision to leave her husband and children to attempt a life with Wright and to also fulfill her dream of translating books.  No matter how you feel about her choice, one has to emphasize with her as she anguishes over not having her children by her side and having to face the vicious attacks from Victorian society.  For those of you who don't know what happened to Mamah Cheney, I won't reveal it.  But suffice it to say that the tragic events that occur make this story all the more heartbreaking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nancy Horan deftly weaves historical fact with dramatized events to create this slice of one woman's personal fight against a society resistant to change.  For other stories with similar themes, &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;The Awakening&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; by Kate Chopin and "The Yellow Wallpaper" by Charlotte Perkins Gilman are both worth investigating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SL2nGQGkNGI/AAAAAAAAAKI/Kg-D1BOSdFs/s1600-h/chris.GIF" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SL2nGQGkNGI/AAAAAAAAAKI/dqasXwOWH20/s320-R/chris.GIF" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-1909206976803231420?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/1909206976803231420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=1909206976803231420' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/1909206976803231420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/1909206976803231420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2008/08/new-design-on-life.html' title='A New Design on Life'/><author><name>Christina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02990907481549868586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SL2DGtLHZII/AAAAAAAAAJo/LckteNsxi_w/S220/chris.GIF'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SKmK7cfx6_I/AAAAAAAAAFA/7afnyIcBZuA/s72-c/lovingfrank.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-6324527071727364665</id><published>2008-08-16T09:25:00.011-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T13:37:00.506-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What Was Lost... and Found</title><content type='html'>What Was Lost by Catherine &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;O'Flynn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.alisweb.org/search/a?searchtype=t&amp;amp;searcharg=what+was+lost&amp;amp;SORT=D&amp;amp;searchscope=8"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229539989095054098" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_XjjnUyO49Oc/SJMO6ay1-xI/AAAAAAAAAAc/1Qw32kNwp5M/s320/whatwaslost2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This quirky, quick read is part mystery and part commentary on alienation and mall culture. In 1984 England, Kate is a a ten year old orphan living with her disinterested grandmother. A loner, her only friends are Adrian, the 22 year old son of the local &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;newsstand&lt;/span&gt; owner and Theresa, a bright but troubled schoolmate. Most of her spare time is spent being a "girl detective," trying to solve mysteries and prevent crimes (rather unsuccessfully in her own assessment.) With her faithful stuffed monkey by her side, Kate turns her attention on the Green Oaks mall, where she is sure she will have her big break. Staking out the bank and watching people, Kate writes everything she sees in her ever-present notebook, into which we are given a glimpse. Then Kate disappears. Flash &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;forward&lt;/span&gt; to 2003, where the story turns to the lives of two &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;disaffected&lt;/span&gt; employees at the Green Oaks mall. Lisa, Adrian's sister, is unhappy in her relationship and in her job at a mega-music store. Her brother, who was the main suspect in Kate's disappearance, has also vanished and only contacts his sister once a year via mail. Kurt is a security guard at the mall who, in the middle of the night, starts seeing a little girl with a stuffed monkey on his video monitor. The two pair up in an attempt to find the girl and instead must face the past and decide on whether they will keep living lonely, unhappy lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At times laugh-out-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;loud&lt;/span&gt; funny, at times heart &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;wrenching&lt;/span&gt;, this novel is an outstanding debut by Catherine &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;O'Flynn&lt;/span&gt;. Especially &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;recommended&lt;/span&gt; to anyone who has ever worked in a mall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SL15nED576I/AAAAAAAAAJQ/iyBdZA0kXNQ/s1600-h/janine.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SL15nED576I/AAAAAAAAAJQ/iyBdZA0kXNQ/s200/janine.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241479253341106082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-6324527071727364665?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/6324527071727364665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=6324527071727364665' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/6324527071727364665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/6324527071727364665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2008/08/what-was-lost-and-found.html' title='What Was Lost... and Found'/><author><name>Janine</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14737496376981000304</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_XjjnUyO49Oc/SJMO6ay1-xI/AAAAAAAAAAc/1Qw32kNwp5M/s72-c/whatwaslost2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-2416072054232630522</id><published>2008-08-14T19:09:00.011-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T19:07:48.057-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='central park'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='criticism'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='review'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='new york'/><title type='text'>Bershert (It was meant to be)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://sun.nls.lib.ny.us/record=b11136747"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234514796967747762" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/SKS7eWTJ4LI/AAAAAAAAAAw/6Yo9dMSC5uc/s200/ayelet.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Ayelet Waldman's &lt;strong style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Love and Other Impossible Pursuits&lt;/strong&gt; begins at "happily ever after" and slowly unravels towards grim reality. Emilia Greenleaf, a young lawyer, is used to getting what she wants, and she wants Jack, a partner in her law firm. Since she realized that he was her "bershert," she had no ethical problems with seducing him away from his beautiful obstetrician wife and their precocious five year old son. Now Jack and Emilia are married and live in an expensive townhouse off Central Park West. But her life is no fairy tale. She and Jack lose their baby Isabel after her first day at home. Her stepson William wants nothing to do with her and is driving a wedge between her and Jack, much to the delight of the scorned wife. She is furious that her parents are reuniting after thirty years of hatred fueled by Dad's indiscretions. And Emilia has a secret that is too horrible to tell anyone, especially Jack. Can a marriage based on romance and magic adjust to the real problems of life? Read it and find out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SL157e_yG9I/AAAAAAAAAJY/w8V4TVyq6YU/s1600-h/donna.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241479604168956882" style="CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SL157e_yG9I/AAAAAAAAAJY/w8V4TVyq6YU/s200/donna.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-2416072054232630522?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/2416072054232630522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=2416072054232630522' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/2416072054232630522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/2416072054232630522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2008/08/bershert-it-was-meant-to-be.html' title='Bershert (It was meant to be)'/><author><name>Donna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10256968491441395166</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/SL2NSeUND3I/AAAAAAAAAB8/QrRhPOQpAec/S220/donna.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/SKS7eWTJ4LI/AAAAAAAAAAw/6Yo9dMSC5uc/s72-c/ayelet.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-7681537411312370205</id><published>2008-07-30T11:33:00.010-04:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T13:41:47.981-04:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://sun.nls.lib.ny.us/record=b11198812" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228879360428387314" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SJC2ExO0q_I/AAAAAAAAAEY/rx3asfP6rNw/s200/thirteenthtale.aspx" style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;i style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The Thirteenth Tale: A Novel&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;  by Diane Setterfield is an exciting story that takes you into a world of secrets, confused identities, lies, and half-truths.  The main character, Vida Winter, is a famous author who has secrets she has never revealed to anyone, but has told different versions of her life at different times. Ms. Winter  has chosen Margaret Lea, a young authoress of biographies, to finally tell her true story.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Each chapter is so interesting and well developed that I only allowed myself a chapter a day to prolong the pleasure of this book. I felt as if Scheherazade was telling this wonderful story that needed to be slowly savored. It is a unique book from a first-time author. Try it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SL16STaVFDI/AAAAAAAAAJg/EqWcBzWXu_M/s1600-h/marcia.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SL16STaVFDI/AAAAAAAAAJg/EqWcBzWXu_M/s200/marcia.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241479996196066354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-7681537411312370205?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/7681537411312370205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=7681537411312370205' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/7681537411312370205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/7681537411312370205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2008/07/thirteenth-tale-novel-by-diane.html' title=''/><author><name>Marcia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11936544321018326588</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='28' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_FdX7N27smYM/SL2apYsDr2I/AAAAAAAAAAQ/OI4JOtIga38/S220/marcia.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SJC2ExO0q_I/AAAAAAAAAEY/rx3asfP6rNw/s72-c/thirteenthtale.aspx' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-7327311137713562104</id><published>2008-07-28T16:10:00.018-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T19:40:32.773-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='forgery'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='criticism'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='books'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='art theft'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Art Thief'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='review'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='museum'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Malevich'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='paintings'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Noah Charney'/><title type='text'>The Art of the Crime</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://sun.nls.lib.ny.us/record=b11317110" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"&gt;&lt;img alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228160507473182274" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SI4oSBSqPkI/AAAAAAAAAEA/cbkM9OignQk/s200/artthief.aspx" style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left;" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;i style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;The Art Thief&lt;/b&gt; &lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;by Noah Charney will make you wonder if the painting you are admiring in a museum is really the great masterpiece it purports to be or is it really a forgery made by a master craftsman? After reading this book, one would hard pressed to not be suspicious of the authenticity of the artwork in a museum. The author brings us into the world of art thefts and forgeries, where great masterpieces are cleverly stolen by knowledgeable and crafty thieves who may actually be respected scholars who are well versed in the tools and methods used in art theft and forgery. Charney assembles an intriguing cast of characters such as an eccentric art professor and a comical French inspector who always seems to be eating gourmet meals. Charney, who is an art scholar and consultant on the prevention of art crime, utilizes his experiences to create this fascinating tale. Charney mixes in true accounts of art crime in with his fictional tale, such as the still unsolved theft of thirteen works of art from the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in 1990. After reading this novel, you will never look at a painting the same way again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;If you are interested in other novels about art thefts and forgeries, you might want to check out books by Aaron Elkins, Jonathan Gash, and the Vicky Bliss mystery series by Elizabeth Peters. In the future, I'll be reviewing a new book entitled &lt;i&gt;&lt;b&gt;The Forger's Spell&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/i&gt;, which is about one of the most masterful art forgers in history, Han van Meegeren.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SL12RHjYl1I/AAAAAAAAAJI/tlPxjdghJ0M/s1600-h/chris.GIF"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SL12RHjYl1I/AAAAAAAAAJI/tlPxjdghJ0M/s200/chris.GIF" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241475577786439506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-7327311137713562104?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/7327311137713562104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=7327311137713562104' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/7327311137713562104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/7327311137713562104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2008/07/art-of-crime.html' title='The Art of the Crime'/><author><name>Christina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02990907481549868586</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='30' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SL2DGtLHZII/AAAAAAAAAJo/LckteNsxi_w/S220/chris.GIF'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SI4oSBSqPkI/AAAAAAAAAEA/cbkM9OignQk/s72-c/artthief.aspx' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-193580078455243506</id><published>2008-07-24T08:50:00.020-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T19:05:28.313-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='criticism'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Brazilian history'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='review'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='historical fiction'/><title type='text'>The Ties That Bind</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://sun.nls.lib.ny.us/record=b11381836"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5229277962910353874" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SJIgmfMMydI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OLBmT6eghjU/s200/seamstress.aspx" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;b style="FONT-STYLE: italic; FONT-FAMILY: arial"&gt;The Seamstress&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; by Francis de Pontes Peebles mixes the tales of Robin Hood with the mannered novels of Henry James to create a portrait of life in early 20th century Brazil. Two orphaned sisters are adopted by their seamstress aunt who teaches them the ways of sewing and couture. It is an inheritance that serves them well when one becomes a fine lady and one becomes an outlaw. The author interweaves her story of the lives of the sisters with fascinating Brazilian history that encouraged me to go to the encyclopedia and find out what was true and what was fiction. A must for historical fiction buffs!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SL157e_yG9I/AAAAAAAAAJY/w8V4TVyq6YU/s1600-h/donna.gif"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241479604168956882" style="CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SL157e_yG9I/AAAAAAAAAJY/w8V4TVyq6YU/s200/donna.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-193580078455243506?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/193580078455243506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=193580078455243506' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/193580078455243506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/193580078455243506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2008/07/on-bedside-table.html' title='The Ties That Bind'/><author><name>Donna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10256968491441395166</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/SL2NSeUND3I/AAAAAAAAAB8/QrRhPOQpAec/S220/donna.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_kgxl0sHCwXg/SJIgmfMMydI/AAAAAAAAAE0/OLBmT6eghjU/s72-c/seamstress.aspx' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7425704399340453922.post-1094865449662275154</id><published>2008-07-23T10:12:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-23T10:19:33.386-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='East Meadow'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='books'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='libraries'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='reading'/><title type='text'>Reader Services Joins the Blogosphere!</title><content type='html'>Welcome to the East Meadow Public Library's new Book Blog where you will find book reviews, new services, a calendar of our book programs and lots more.  We're looking forward to your comments, questions, and suggestions. Hope you enjoy reading what we're writing!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7425704399340453922-1094865449662275154?l=emplreaderservices.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/feeds/1094865449662275154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7425704399340453922&amp;postID=1094865449662275154' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/1094865449662275154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7425704399340453922/posts/default/1094865449662275154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emplreaderservices.blogspot.com/2008/07/reader-services-joins-blogosphere.html' title='Reader Services Joins the Blogosphere!'/><author><name>Donna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/10256968491441395166</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y8EnSrgVWck/SL2NSeUND3I/AAAAAAAAAB8/QrRhPOQpAec/S220/donna.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
