Stories

First, here’s what I didn’t read: anything that included a vampire or a werewolf. I did read about one ghost—in Anne Tyler’s The Beginner's Goodbye.

Much of my summer reading focused, as usual, on mysteries: I read all three of Gillian Flynn’s novels, starting with this summer’s blockbuster Gone Girl and then working my way through her two earlier ones — Dark Places and the even darker Sharp Objects. Three clever and engaging picks were Joanne Dobson’s academic mystery Cold and Pure and Very Dead, Harry Dolan’s pomo noir tale Bad Things Happen, and Tana French’s Broken Harbor (just as riveting as her other novels).  

I devoted two nights to James Renner’s The Man from Primrose Lane, which veered from noir to sci fi, and made me think longingly of the relatively simpler physics of The Time Traveler's Wife, by Audrey Niffinegger, a past summer’s selection. It did occur to me that some might find my liking for mysteries obsessive when I realized that I was reading Jo Nesbo’s Headhunters while watching an episode of Inspector Lewis. Mysteries, however, with their murders, trickery, and restoration of order, remain an excellent antidote to articles on education (I read roughly 500 of those).

Today I discovered a half bag of brown rice, a lone red bell pepper, some leftover celery, and an onion. Since Mardi Gras is coming up, why not make a jambalaya? So with this adapted trinity (the typical trinity uses a green bell pepper) I created a festive and healthy dish. I could have added chicken and sausage to keep it traditional, but since I did not have either, I decided to make a vegetarian version. In the end I had a paella-like Cajun side dish that I could pair with anything even leftovers. Using the brown rice rather than white made it even more nontraditional, but it made it more interesting and healthier.

Since it's a whole grain, brown rice is a much better choice than white rice. It's high in fiber, more nutritious, and has a slight nutty flavor. Its texture is chewy, akin to al dente pasta. The only downside is that brown rice has a shorter shelf life than white. In its original packaging brown rice can last for about six months before going rancid, but it stays longer in an airtight container. Brown rice is really a satisfying replacement for white in this spicy and flavorful dish.

I am fairly catholic in my choice of reading material; in a pinch I will read whatever is lying around. At summer houses, and in insomniac wanderings in my own house I have read everything from Zane Grey to Boethius, and I actually like things like YA series fiction and “cozy” mysteries. Historically, I have drawn only one line in the sand: I will not, under any circumstances, read a romance novel. I can swallow chick lit, although I don’t like it much, and I delight in a love story woven among the threads of a great novel, but I find the mechanical, predictable storylines and ridiculously overblown language of the average Harlequin to be unpalatable. I know that many women love them, and that’s great. My share may be distributed among all of them, neatly decreasing my suffering and increasing their joy.

Because my reading glasses are broken, and because I was reading books downloaded onto the Kindle on my iPhone, I accidentally bought a kind of supernatural bodice ripper the other night. I swear there were no identifying marks, and that it seemed to be just $2.99 worth of entertainment involving covens, fireballs and demons. (I told you I’d read almost anything). Had I bought this title in a bricks and mortar bookstore, an unlikely proposition since this is a “work” of the type that thrives only in the forgiving universe of e-books, I would have been warned off by a cover featuring a busty woman with her head tipped back in ecstasy, her long hair blowing back as she offered her neck to the cleft-chinned hunk about to kiss her…somewhere. As it was, I went in blind. Literally and figuratively.

Saturday morning, I was headed downtown for a walk with my dogs.   On the corner of West End and 116^th street, we passed a couple in the midst of a tiff.  She was crying and he was saying “I want to say something that will make you feel better!”  She replied “Then say different stuff!!!”  I chuckled and slowed the dogs down to catch more of their fight- eager for a little distraction from my walk.  The fight wasn’t explosive though, it was just a steam blowing off-er.  I slipped my earbuds back in and trudged onward.

Two blocks later, another couple was fighting.  Actually, it was more of a mutual whine than a fight really.  This time, there was something that needed to be picked up at the store for their baby (that was anxiously cooing from the sling around dad’s neck) and neither wanted to do it because there was other stuff that needed to be done.  Again, there was sighing, head shaking and clenched fists from both contenders, but nothing that entertaining.

We crossed into the park and stopped suddenly when we hit yet another couple deep in conflict.  He was bellowing about dirty laundry and she was yarping about laundromat quarters.  I honestly thought I was on some hidden camera show or something.  Three couples in less than 10 blocks?  Was this sunny day in May a secret relationship Armageddon?  I wiped the pond of sweat from my upper lip and thought, “Huh… maybe”.