Word Blur

Rains, pours

As an inveterate gossip whore and lover of all things medieval, I went all gooey when I saw Transforming Talk: The Problem with Gossip in Late Medieval England, a mash-up (okay, actually it's historical scholarship) of a book that looks at the way “gossip functions primarily as transformative discourse.” In a week that has seen Lindsay Lohan’s latest derailment, Mischa Barton’s fainting spell, and Nicole Richie’s birthday invite fiasco, it’s nice to feel that historical precedents suggest our collective analysis of these events might do some good toward “influencing…literary and religious discourse.”

Findings

I recommend, for the hard-core crafters and intellectuals, the beautifully designed book that was on the new arrivals shelves at work (already checked out!): Findings: The Material Culture of Needlework and Sewing.  It documents sewing implements found at archeological sites and it's full of beautiful, glossary-style picturs of old scissors.

Here's a quote:
"In Findings, Beaudry offers for the first time a scholarly, theoretically enriched and historically situated guide to the needlework and sewing tools of the British isles and North America. She employs these ‘small finds’ to write 'large histories.'"—Lu Ann De Cunzo, Professor of Anthropology and Early American Culture, University of Delaware

My Expertise (Libraries, lazing)

What I've actually been reading is College Students' Perceptions of Libraries and Information Resources -- and I'm aware enough, proud even, of the depths of my dorkitude that I don't mind telling you it's surprisingly good stuff, but something tells me that's not quite what the three people reading this are looking for.  I was so tired last night that I was seeing little movies (squat reindeers and big trippy globs of snow) on the back of my eyelids when I lay down to help my two-year old go to bed, but somehow I only managed to get about four hours of sleep all night.  So you'll have to forgive me if today's recommendation lacks a certain vigor.  Anyway, now that I'm back at work more or less full-time, Doing Nothing: A History of Loafers, Loungers, Slackers, and Bums in America looks appealing.  From the Boldtype review:

"If the American Dream is to do what we want, when we want, how we want, it is also, should we choose, to reject even that. And do nothing at all."

Stiff Upper Lip

Now that I'm (temporarily, I swear!) reduced to living with my mother, whilst deep on the other side of my mid-thirties, I find myself drawn to books of the It Could Be Worse variety.  Serious drive-by stuff, because it's hard to wallow when you're comparing your own problems to, oh, say, the outbreak of cholera in nineteenth century London.  After reading and enjoying Steven Johnson's Everything Bad is Good for You, I'm seriously looking forward to The Ghost Map: The Story of London's Most Terrifying Epidemic--And How It Changed Science, Cities, and the Modern World, Johnson's already best-selling book, tracing both the origin of cholera in 1854 and the work of the doctor who evolved our understanding of the spread and treatment of disease.  Johnson could write about nearly anything and keep me interested, because he views his subjects through the fascinating theory and science of complex systems.  Mind you, what I'm actually reading is Henry Green, but just thinking about cholera makes me feel better.

Oleo

My husband is reading The Story of Margarine, a book published by the Margarine Association of America (OK, I made that up, but something like that) in the 1970’s.  He decided to switch his thesis topic (he’s getting a second master’s in history) to Senator George Aiken’s role in oleo margarine legislation.  It turns out that this really is a lot more interesting than it sounds – a lot of people were against margarine in ways that echo contemporary concerns about local food sources and farm sustainability.  Still, bottom line: I’m married to the man who is destined to become Vermont’s foremost margarine scholar.

Island of Lost Maps

I love the story in this book -- of one of the most prolific map thieves ever to grace the reading rooms of special collections libraries interwoven with the history of cartography -- but in the end the prose was too purple and the meatphors too wrenched over needless expanse.  I'm sorry to have to say it, but there it is.  Still, another book down and only about 10 other half-read books to go.  I'm a finisher.