Just a quick note to let regular readers know that, having given the matter some thought, I decided to delete the poems I had written and posted on this blog. It was fun while it lasted, but the posts did not seem to be of interest to anyone but me and maybe two other people. Also, the more I thought about it, the less the posts seemed to fit with the direction this blog has taken. So, for the time being, my poem category has gone the way of my wistful thinking category.
I’ve become obsessed with finding a good fantasy book to recommend to the Bear since it was brought to my attention that he reads fantasies but not sci-fi (suggesting that he might not love Scott Westerfeld’s writing with its emphasis on technology–shocking I know). So far, it hasn’t been going so well.
Miss Print: “Have you read Jasper Fforde?”
Bear: “That’s the one with the book hopper?”
Miss Print: “Yup. The Eyre Affair is the first one.”
Bear: “A friend recommended it to me, but I couldn’t get past the 150 year long Crimean War. I asked her if that was ever really explained and she said not really. If he ever explained that I would read it right away.”
Miss Print: “Bothered your inner historian, huh?”
Bear: “Yes. My inner historian couldn’t get past that.”
Bear was a history major, thus the inner historian. I don’t have an inner historian apparently since it never even occurred to me to be bothered by that point of the plot.
My next recommendation was Skulduggery Pleasant which, after showing it to him, I remembered was about a twelve-year-old girl. While totally awesome, not perhaps something a 32-year-old male librarian–a reference librarian, mind you–would jump to read. I think I’m losing my edge, or just haven’t been reading as many fantasies as previously or something. (Although I am 90% positive he would like the writing. Just saying, you know, to save my ego.)