Spaced in the Bookstore Again

I’ve been reading Bill Bryson’s The Mother Tongue - English And How It Got That Way a history of the English language.

LOVE Mister Bryson and his smart, wry humor.

An excerpt from this book which, had it been written by some jargon loving pedant, I’d never have picked it up:

"The poet Robert Browning caused considerable consternation by including the word twat in one of his poems, thinking it an innocent term. The work was Pippa Passes, written in 1841 and now remembered for the line "God's in His heaven, all's right with the world." But it also contains this disconcerting passage:

Then owls and bats

Cowls and twats

Monks and nuns in a cloister's moods,

Adjourn to the oak-stump pantry!

Browning had apparently somewhere come across the word twat--which meant precisely the same then as it does now--but pronounced it with a flat a and somehow took it to mean a piece of headgear for nuns.”

As fascinating, illuminating, amusing and at times flat out hilarious as this book is, it’s missing something that I very much need at this very moment. Werewolves. Martin Millar’s latest The Anxiety of Kalix the Werewolf will not be available in the US for another month.

'Martin Millar is a Scottish author, living in London. He is the author of such novels as Lonely Werewolf Girl, The Good Fairies of New York, and Suzy, Led Zeppelin and Me. He wrote the Thraxas series under the name of Martin Scott, and won the World Fantasy Award in 2000.’

I am in pain.

That’s my excuse.

I bopped over to the Braintree Barnes and Noble. Not a bad joint but I HATE shopping at the big chain stores.

The closest independent bookseller, Paperback Junction, is in South Easton, a 25 minute drive. Storybook Cove in Hanover is 30 minutes.

I was desperate and B&N is a ten minute hop. Upon darkening their door, I made a beeline for the sci fi section and was happily surprised to find a Charlaine Harris that I hadn’t read before -- a novella paired with one by an author I’d never heard of.

Just so’s ya know, she’s written way more than just the Sookie Stackhouse series. I'm partial to the Lily Bard mysteries.

Cleaning woman and karate expert Lily Bard is a woman with a complicated past.

Ms. Harris’ books are a guilty pleasure, same as Sue Grafton’s Kinsey Milhone detective series. Reading either author is akin to snarfing a big bowl of real butter popcorn -- immediate gratification and gone/over in little more than a heartbeat or six.

Once home, I jumped into bed -- Coco in my arms, new book in hand, ready for an indulgent afternoon of reading and cat snuggling. Sadly and with a dash of horrification, I discovered that this novelette of Ms. Harris' was heavy on the bodice ripping romance and far too light on the supernatural. There was a complete dearth of werewolves and the vampires were just vaguely fanged, well mannered Declans, Finns and Tristans.

I then read the little bio for the second author -- previously published by Harlequin. You know -- the romance publishers! DOH! Make way for the technicolor yawns.

I’ve written of my need to pay better attention in the book marts. Seriously. I’ve GOT to work on this!