_Turn Coat_, Jim Butcher, kindle edition, #11 in an ongoing series

Lo and behold, Harry is beginning to grow up. He's telling people stuff (well, okay, after the werewolf blackmailed him, after another werewolf died). He's planning multiple routes to success -- and using non-magic means! With non-magic people!

In this outing, someone has framed Morgan (of all people) for the murder of another Senior Council member (as in, standing over the body with the weapon). Morgan has run from captivity when he realizes the extent of the frame (lots of money deposited in an account with his name on it). Where does he run to? Well, who? Harry! Of course! Who hates his guts but is well-known for his principles and who _really_ grasps how annoying it is to be chased for something one did not do.

The big bad nasty this time is a naagloshii (ooh! don't say the word! it gives the skinwalkers power!) and Shagnasty is a Big Bad Nasty. We learn that Morgan successfully killed one long ago. By luring it onto a nuclear weapons testing site. Nice. Morgan has Mad Skillz when it comes to offing the Big Bad. Yet a few wizards (okay, all of them, and a bounty) have him dying on the run.

Thomas helps out, and takes some major damage. We go back to the island off Chicago, which turns out to be a new arc in the Dresden universe, its genius loci allied to Dresden and apparently carrying a grudge against The Gatekeeper, of all people. The romance between Anastasia and Harry takes a turn.

As soon as the Little, Sneaky Bad made an appearance, I had his number. That was really the downer of this book -- huge, whack you over the head with the solution to the mystery.

But Harry! Doing the grown-up thing! Very nice. I'll read more.

_The Perfect Poison_, Amanda Quick, kindle

An Arcane Society novel (Victorian), Caleb Jones and the even more improbably named Lucinda Bromley together found Jones & Jones, the investigative agency that plays a major role in the contemporary Arcane Society novels. Protagonists from other Victorian England-set Arcane Society novels also appear: there's an engagement party for Thaddeus Ware and Leona Hewitt, and other members of the Jones family play pool with Caleb.

The standard props are present: Lucinda is "on the shelf" with a scandalous reputation. In this case, she's 27, and rumored to have murdered some number of her father, her father's business partner and her fiance. Unsurprisingly, Gilbert Otford of the Flying Intelligencer's work appears. There's a series of murders. We've got people making and dying from variations on the Founder's Formula. We've got a man worried he is going crazy, and a woman quite calmly identifying the real problem and fixing it in passing. Cute carriages. Attempted abduction foiled by a well-prepared woman. Funny bits. Some sex. Blah, blah, bleeping blah.

Look. You know what you're getting when you read a novel by Krentz/Quick/Castle. If that's what you want, this is a perfectly acceptable entry. Not a good place to start reading her. I'm not sure why I _keep_ reading her, and I've probably read fifty or more books by her. Which, combined with the frequently appearing setting of Seattle (either the real one, or cities that are suspiciously like Seattle), may explain it after all.

ETA: Also, I went to one of her readings several years ago, and she's a really nice lady I don't mind giving my money to. At all.

The Running Disaster Which Was My Monday

I decided yesterday that life had been too stressful lately, so I was just going to pretend that the future didn't exist and I was going to have a day off. Still had to deal with kids etc., but I didn't think about the following week or worry about getting stuff done or anything like that. Wow. Mistakes were made.

This week, R. has to be in to work at 8 a.m. for a leadership class. I _should_ have called child care last night and arranged for either an earlier than 10 a.m. pickup or to drop T. off in the morning myself. Instead, I wound up doing that this morning, since I realized too late last night to call. That's okay. It worked out. But the whole getting both kids dressed and into the car with appropriate gear was sufficiently distracting, that I didn't think to look at the fuel gauge when I got in. Or at any time on the way to child care. Or to my friends (A. and L.) house in Brookline for a lovely chat and coffee (totally impulse and lucky to catch them home and not too busy). Or on my way home. In fact, I first looked at the fuel gauge shortly after I navigated the junction from I-495 S to 2 - E, when I noticed a minivan on the side of the highway. And pressed down on the gas and realized I was getting a whole lot of nothing. And coasted successfully to the side of the road, a dozen or so yards ahead of the other minivan.

Village Auto got some business off that stretch of road today.

This particular stretch of road is both (a) close to home and (b) even closer to R.'s work. Ordinarily, I would call R., R. would go home, get a gas can, fill it, and save my pathetic butt. (And that's only because I feel it's bad form to pop the kid into the stroller and walk along the highway to save our own butts. Especially when it's kinda hot out.) That is, if I had ever run out of gas in the last 20 years, which I have not. In fact, it may have been longer than 20 years since I last ran out of gas. I don't _remember_ ever having run out of gas. Running out of gas is something I Do Not Do. *sigh* But R., remember, is in that class. Not answering the cell. Not answering his extension. I tried to get someone to roust him out of the class. Total failure. I called M., a friend of ours who works with R. No answer. I give up and call AAA. The problem now is that I am so confused and anxious, I think that I've just traversed the junction from 2 to 495 and it takes quite a while before I figure out my mistake. They think, based on the exit number I can see, that I am in Andover and I _know_ that's wrong, but it takes me a while to realize I can freaking turn on the built-in navigator in the car and it will _tell_ me exactly where I am. (Oh, and for unknown reasons, I couldn't find registration paperwork in the vehicle. Hmmmm. And it took a while to figure out the license plate number, altho I did eventually find that on the vehicle inspection form in the glovebox, which may qualify as registration paperwork until some arrives in the mail.)

While I was on hold with AAA, M. called back. While I was waiting for the tow truck (bearing fuel), R. called back. But by that time, I figured I'd just proceed with the official rescue in progress. We did eventually get fuel and get off the highway, fill the tank and then go home.

Once home, I called Heritage Heating and A/C, because the A/C is not working in Brookline and one of our renters has a heart condition. We like him. We don't want him to die tomorrow when it gets into the 90s. I have the regularly scheduled maintenance lined up for May 4 (or 5, whatever -- it's on the calendar), but they tried turning it on last night after checking for mice and while it turned on, it didn't work (surprise). After several minutes of trying to track us down in the computer, they got us on the list for appointments tomorrow. Hopefully they show up towards the 11 a.m. side of the window, and not the 3 p.m. side.

I canceled my other appointment this afternooon, at Westford Racquet and Fitness club. Enough is enough; I'm not getting back in a vehicle. Who knows what might happen.

I did, however, call our doc up in Milford and left a message asking for a letter saying it's okay for T. to have hippotherapy (aka get on a horse). They seemed ever more confused about the request than I was in making it. But I figure I'm going to need it once I find a place that will take us, so I might as well start that process now.

I am very thankful for AAA. There was a whole string of I-need-a-rescue moments when I was a teenager/in my early 20s (this would be when my father, boyfriend/fiance, then husband and in-laws could rescue me). Several of them involved leaving the lights on and the battery dying. A couple of them involved a bad alternator wiping out the battery. One of them involved a blowout, which either caused me to hit a median -- or happened because I hit a median. It's 50/50 in my mind which it was, but my sister R., who was with me in the car at the time, swears it blew out and _then_ hit the median. When I was no longer able to call on a kinship network to rescue me, I got AAA and, quite fantastically, quit needing a rescue. Probably because I started driving a Honda, then switched to a Subaru, and then another Honda. But I still love me some AAA. One of the Hondas did result in a AAA call, but it was an at-home call please-bring-me-a-battery-pretty-please. Not the result of leaving lights on or a failed alternator -- just a really old battery.

ETA: I drove into the garage at the house in Brookline (before I was pregnant with T., possibly before R. and I got married) once with my bicycle still on top of the car. Most of the damage was to the rack, which is appropriate: the car and bicycle were more expensive and more valuable to me. Still, felt like a moron, and told myself not to ever let myself get that distracted by NPR again. Guess what I was listening to on my way home today? An absolutely fantastic episode of The Conversation about iPods and the consumption of music.

ah, monopoly

The differences between Standard Oil, IBM, Microsoft, Cisco and others are many and varied. But they have all had one thing in common: once you have the financial wherewithal to do so, buy the upstarts who would compete with you.

And lo! Amazon has purchased Lexcycle.

flu? don't travel to, say, Chicago?

I'm at a loss. Normally, I can blame this kind of foolishness on Murricans of the Republican persuasion and sheeplike idiots, but apparently, a few kids display flu-like symptoms at a prep school (in South Carolina!) and everyone takes leave of their senses. The EU is telling people not to travel unnecessarily to the US (including, say, Chicago) -- because, after all, staying home in Britain or Spain is somehow a better place to (not likely, really) catch some hypothetical flu.

I feel bad for the dead folk in Mexico City and I hope they get things under control quickly. But please, people.

Calm down.

Worry about something useful. Like, say, I dunno, getting hit by a car.

ETA: Initial survey of coverage suggests that people selling elderberry extract are going to make a (er) mint, and restaurants (as if the down economy hasn't been bad enough) will suffer.

Oh, and I bet the surgical mask suppliers run low in a matter of days.

ETAYA: The CDC's advice is good.

http://www.cdc.gov/swineflu/

And if you, by some chance, happened to lay hands on a stock of antivirals, do not take them prophylactically. If you do, you will be punished. Those suckers have some side effects.

ETAOLT: For anyone who would like to point out the (I've found one) case of high fever (104.6) associated with the NYC outbreak: 'cause that's _so freaking rare_ in the US from a variety of causes. Why is it scarier when you call it swine flu?

snoops! snoops! and not very bright ones

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/26/fashion/26kindle.html?hpw

An editor at PW asks to look at people's kindles, pretending she wants to see how they work but in fact to see what they are reading. Okay, whatever. Go for it. Then she says:

“It’s really expensive,” she said of the Kindle 2, which Amazon sells for $359. “If you’re going to pay that, you’re giving a statement to the world that you like to read — and you’re probably not using it to read a mass market paperback.”

Really? It's a pretty good mix on mine. And librarything supports me on this.

ETA: The article degenerates from there. People who think they can conclude much of anything by what people keep on the visible bookshelves in their houses are amazingly naive. I want to know what's sitting by the bed. And I _really_ want at their library record, and how they get rid of books. You could look at someone's collection and think they were the unwashed and unread, and not realize they read 3x what you do and wrote credible reviews and essays on twice what you read.

ETAYA: I think the "safe bet" phrase needs to be banned by editors.

"It’s a safe bet that the Kindle is unlikely to attract people who seldom pick up a book or, on the other end of the spectrum, people who prowl antiquarian book fairs for first editions."

And yet in this _same_ article, Ed Rollins' kindle is packed with newspapers. He may NEVER pick up a book -- and yet read more than the rest of us.

ETASTM:

"Publishers will no longer get the bump that comes when travelers see someone reading, say, the latest James Patterson and say to themselves: “I’ve been meaning to get that. I think I’ll buy a copy at Hudson News before I hop on the train.”"

Yeah. Cause _James_ freaking _Patterson_ needs a _bump_. Fuck. Words fail.

The remaining paragraphs are devoted to mindless status comparisons and whining that with the kindle, it interferes with fantasizing about someone next to you reading a book. Cause you can't, like, fucking _ask_ someone what they're reading when they have a kindle in front of them. But you could, as the article started out, ask to borrow the kindle, and snoop.

I don't like these people. I think they are bad human beings. I think their morals are poor and their ethics are worse, and they are degenerate snobs who pine for an ahistorical past. Maybe they are addicted to some component of ink and paper that I am allergic to.

Maybe they've never moved from one place to another, and been forced to pack and unpack their books.

never mind chimps -- killer whales

The next time someone says something silly about how only humans experience menopause, point them at this:

http://www.frontiersinzoology.com/content/6/1/4

I'm slogging through Suzanne Braun Levine's _Inventing the Rest of Our Lives_ and remembering all the detailed things about second wave feminists that irritate me so much it is hard to be respectful of them and all the glorious things they accomplished that I benefit from every day of my life.

I had not realized how much controversy there was over chimpanzees and menopause.

something about the death of 20th century paper pushing conglomerates

Not really just paper pushing. But everyone who existed because of logistical delivery difficulties: limitations on the broadband spectrum, the expense of running cable to households, the cost of printing and delivering (books, magazines, newspapers, CDs, DVDs).

Everything suffered from nibbling: movies got nibbled on by TV and home re-play (VCR and follow-ons), music got nibbled on by format changes, radio, satellite, cable music. Broadcast got nibbled by cable. Printed shit got nibbled on by photocopiers, home printers (and mimeographs, before that). Then again, a lot of the nibblers created new, expansive markets for the conglomerates once they readjusted.

It's easy to forget, when people are panicking about cities losing their sole daily, that cities used to have multiple editions of each of multiple dailies. And they weren't thick and they didn't have distribution outside the city and you couldn't subscribe to a lot of them -- you bought them on the corner, which simplified the logistics. It's easy to forget storefront nickelodeons. It's easy to forget where soap operas started life (hint: not on television).

We're watching every last one of these conglomerates really start to topple and there's a whole lot of freaking out going on. What we are _not_ seeing is the connection between them being discussed in any detail. As R. puts it, once the bandwidth was there, this outcome was inevitable. It's so freaking expensive to deliver this stuff on hard anything (book, flimsy paper, VHS tape, LP, you name it), never mind in-person (walk-in theater, whether you sit down or not), that a big pipe will beat corporations who existed by solving the logistics better than anyone else. To Death.

And about time.

The next time you hear someone whining about something like this going away, think back to the death of ms. at the hands of Gutenberg's Monster. Guess who went out of business in that one? Yeah. Copying rooms at the monasteries. And we're all crying about that, still, aren't we?

ETA: This was going to be a note to myself to write a better blog entry on the subject. But you know? The subject sort of doesn't _deserve_ a better blog entry. It either deserves a wide ranging conversation, or this kind of passing snark and little more. There _was_ such a wide ranging conversation on The Conversation today, in the specific context of the iPod. Which goes only a very small way to explaining my hour plus on the side of 2 E, waiting for someone to bring me gasoline.