– by Neil White (on my Kindle) – a really, really interesting book. It’s a memoir about the year the author spent in prison in Louisiana. About his sanctimonious attitude when he arrived there (he was convicted of kiting checks trying to keep his publishing business afloat) and what he learns during his year. But as much as it’s about his life as a prisoner, it’s more about the other residents of the prison – the last remaining lepers (Hansen’s Disease) who are provided for in the facility. Neil White is quite a character and I wondered more than once if he was ever going to “get it,” that he was greedy and egotistical. The book wasn’t published for about 10 years after his release, so at least he didn’t profit immediately by telling tales. The epilogue was so sad – listing the deaths of many of the leprosy patients and some of the inmates he came to call friends. One person at amazon commented that it was not worth reading because the author profited from his incarceration, and that he didn’t appear to have redeemed himself. I disagree – I think he did. If he didn’t, then he knows how to spin a good yarn. I choose to believe he learned a whole lot about himself and where his life took a (wrong) left turn, and that he’s trying to atone for his failings by publishing the book. You decide.
- by P.D. James (on my Kindle) – if I hadn’t read about this book in the Los Angeles Times a week or so ago I’d never have pursued this book. It’s nothing even close to her wealth of books of the mystery genre. But yes, it IS a mystery (not something I normally read) but it takes place about 5 years after Pride and Prejudice leaves off. That was the hook for me. An entertaining read and a way to keep in touch with all the lovable (and not-so) characters from Jane Austen’s classic. It’s not a page-turner in the true mystery-murder style, but it’s fun to read.
– by Judith Ryan Hendricks – I picked up this book at a lending library I use now and then. I have to laugh, though – the collection of books (probably numbering about 350 or so) is divided by paperback and hardback. And then by color. COLOR? I find that so ludicrous. But anyway, the title caught my eye. It’s definitely a novel, about a youngish woman who’s been a baker and a chef, but who is suddenly single. It’s about her struggle to find herself, to find a new rhythm of life. In the telling of the journey some recipes are included (baked goods, including bread-bread), which are available on the 
– by Ree Drummond (The Pioneer Woman) – most everyone who reads blogs knows about Ree – the Pioneer Woman, from Pawhuska, Oklahoma. She’s always entertaining, whimsical and enjoyable to read. A couple of years ago she wrote a memoir of her romance with Ladd, her now husband. I can’t count how many times, as I was reading this, that I was LOLing (Laughing Out Loud). She is such a witty writer and knows how to tell a story. Even though I know she married Ladd and has since had 4 children, I was caught up in her story from the first page. I wrote it up in more detail on
– (on my Kindle) Michael Tucker (from L.A. Law some years ago) and his wife, on a whim almost, buy a home in Umbria. An old, old, old house with two bedrooms, a kitchen, living room, I think, and a nice terrace (where a lot of living goes on in Italian homes and families). It’s the story of the purchase itself, the friends they meet, the neighbors, how Michael finds the best butcher(s), bakers and candlestick makers. It made me long for another trip to Italy, actually. They enlarge the home, although they’re not there for most of the construction. It’s a similar tale to Frances Mayes’ books and Peter Mayle’s books too, but it’s different. Tucker is a TV star; his wife’s a stage actress. They live on some higher plane than I do, for sure, with lots of friends with connections. But it’s a cute story and I enjoyed it clear to the end.
(Stacy Schiff); 
; and 
.
So, I was reading the blog post over at Accidental Hedonist, and immediately I was transported to about 1965. Allow me to set the stage . . . I was about 23 years old. My first husband was an officer in the U.S. Navy (air). His air group was deployed on a carrier, and we’d made plans for me to travel for several months from country to country in Asia as I followed the ship around from port to port. It was my first international trip. I was a totally inexperienced traveler, besides being on my own abroad. The Vietnam War intervened, but I decided to continue the journey, even if I spent more time alone. First I went to Japan for a couple of months, and then on to the Philippines, where I met up with two other wives.The carrier carried on, and the three of us wives went to Hong Kong, a few days before a monsoon started, as part of our around-Asia special airline ticket. We stayed at the Hong Kong Hilton.
Let me just say that the two other wives were far more worldly than I. They’d both been PanAm stewardesses for some years before marrying their pilot husbands. I was (and am) a relatively shy-type not given much to reveling and drinking much alcohol, nor dancing with men I didn’t know (or even men I did know except my then husband). So, upon our arrival in Hong Kong, the other two wanted cocktails and dancing; I wanted some dinner and sleep. They went to the sky bar and I went to the small cafe near the lobby.
As the only occupant in the small cafe, I received exemplary service. I tried to understand the menu. It was in Chinese with just a few minimal words in English, German and a couple of other languages. Nothing appealed to me much, but there was this one spaghetti dish. The word bolognese was in it and I knew I’d seen that in Italian restaurants. The other word I didn’t recognize. But, it was quite inexpensive. So I ordered it. With great anticipation, the dish arrived and I dug in. Ewwwwh! It was chicken liver sauce on pasta. It was horrid. I tried a second bite of just the pasta I could manage to extract from the sticky, grainy sauce. Nope, it wouldn’t go down. Being on a very strict budget, I couldn’t order something else. I pushed the food around, drank some ice water and didn’t know what to say to the waiter when he came to my table and pointed at my plate, asking questions in what he thought was English. I couldn’t understand anything he said. I was too embarrassed to try to explain with more pointing or making screwed-up ugly faces. I ate the saltine crackers on the table, and drank a second glass of water. Back then I was still testing the waters, so to speak, of international travel. I was very sensitive to my inability to speak the language. Today I’d be in a financial position, thankfully, of saying I’ll order something else and do my level best to smile a lot and be pleasant. Do you have any similar experiences? I’d love to hear about them – leave a comment – click the link below. So, my advice: if you don’t understand a menu in a foreign country, ask questions.
Graphic at top created at www.wordle.net
Patty
said on September 20th, 2008:
My dad took my mom, my sister and me to Hong Kong over 20 yrs ago. One night we had dinner with his friend and his friend’s family. The wife spoke very little English but my mom and I still asked her what we were being served. According to the wife, we ate jellyfish and squirrel that night. Yum. I truly think (hope) something was lost in the translation. (Do they even have squirrels on Hong Kong?)
And, I just read that you’re in Orange County. I’m in San Juan Capistrano.
Patty – I certainly wouldn’t ever eat jellyfish or squirrel, either one! Yuck. But in many cultures I guess it’s standard fare. Thanks for sharing the story! And yes, I live in the Tustin Hills. . . . Carolyn