Books read in Chincoteague (4 of 7): Boneshaker

or once, the cover blurb is entirely accurate: "A steampunk-zombie-airship adventure[!]" Really, what more do you need to know? And yet, the characters in Cherie Priest's Boneshaker do go a bit deeper than that. They have emotional needs, frailities, a search for a father and role model, a last hope for lost love, an avoidance of kinship at the same time as a frantic search for the same. Not to mention attempts to understand another culture, come to terms with a violent history and guilt (over the same), and yes, the book contains a map.

In the desolate wastes of an alternate Seattle it's every man for himself, except when he feels the need to assuage his guilty soul by coming to a comrade's aid, but it's also all men against the undead, the darkness, without and within. Things can be simple and full of comaraderie in a society with a common enemy. And yet, men and women turn against each other in order to save themselves, to avoid or fight their inner demons, always always putting the self first, for there is very little true altruism in the world.

The book was pretty good, a fascinating and light frolic through a fledgling universe with some mystery thrown in along the way. The steampunk aspects are not obnoxiously overwhelming, but the "blight" victims (the zombie hordes) seem a little gratuitous (I think this is pretty much always the case with the undead). At four hundred fourteen reasonably dense pages, I could have gone for a lot more detail of the world and development of some of the characters' relationships. I'm told there are further developments to be had in subsequent novels.

Books read in Chincoteague (3 of 7): Not Becoming My Mother

eople of first world countries in the twenty-first century have a tendency to take an awful lot for granted. While many in democratic society worry that their freedoms are shrinking, it also seems as though they are expanding. Even a few decades ago a more conservative U.S. might not have put up with the diatribes of certain "grassroots" movements, more likely dismissing them outright as being incoherent and extremist. Today we still have the great benefit of an equal voice for all, even though some may be less deserving of serious consideration.

All of which is, for some reason, leading up to my notes on Not Becoming My Mother, this short memoir by Ruth Reichl about her mother's search (somewhat in vain) for a life as a non-homemaker in the middle of the 20th century. I have a certain weakness for reading about the lives of others, who, while not consequential or influential on any grand scale, have at least merited some well-written words and a bit of immortality on the bookshelf. No one is really inconsequential, in the big chaotic world of butterfly wingbeats, but some are significant only to a small circle of fortunate insiders.

Reichl's search for her mother's story focuses on the the fortunes of mid-century homemakers, facing proud and territorial husbands in a difficult job market after the Depression and World War II. Reichl had originally made the mistake of assuming that everything changed to roses for women after the 19th Amendment was passed. In truth, society took much longer to adjust to the change, and families behind closed doors longer still. Traditional patriarchal values (often maintained by the physically larger and stronger sex, and accepted by women who aren't sure how to do otherwise) still linger today. Reichl's mother did her best to instill deep seated independence and self-reliance in her daughter, such that she might never feel the need to ally herself with a husband in order to get by. Anyway, the thing was inspiring, comforting and entertaining, a quick read. Recommended.

Father's Day Carrot Cake

It has come to my attention recently that for the most part people don't need more stuff, and so instead I bake them gifts for most of the assorted Hallmark holidays. It's actually more effort on my part, at least physically, and it's something we can share, instead of another [tie/bouquet] thoughtful but nonetheless impersonal gift. Books don't count, obviously, one can never have too many books.

That being said, I made carrot cake for my dad for this Father's Day, which also meant the most cautious drive from NoVA into MD possible, so as not to lose the cake in a sudden stop or turn. I think I watched the cake more than the road. hm. Any minute now he'll cut a slice, and then I can post this! Unfortunately I don't have the recipe with me to include (and I don't mind keeping it a bit of a secret), but you can easily find it in the Williams Sonoma Essentials of Baking book I'm sure I've touted before.



I'm not sure whether it's harder to zest a squeezed citrus, or to squeeze a zested one. Either way, once it lacks some cohesion it's difficult to handle. Sometimes I forget things like: Orange juice comes from oranges, therefore "juice of one orange" could theoretically come from a carton, not the fresh fruit I just squeezed to death.



This is possibly my favourite frosting: cream cheese, white chocolate and orange juice (and butter). It's pretty sweet, thanks to the white chocolate, but has that cream cheese tang and then the orange flavor. I'm also a sucker for cream cheese pie crust, which gets used most frequently for the awesome cranberry apple pie I make in the Autumn and Winter.

Anywho, Happy Father's Day to all, but especially to mine.