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I promised to post something about the 2013 Ohioana Book Festival last Saturday, and I’ve been remiss.

IMG_3700The Festival keeps getting bigger and better.  Having stood behind a table at the front entrance to the Fort Hayes Metropolitan Education Center for four hours, giving away Ohioana quarterlies and pencils to visitors and hawking $5 Ohioana coffee mugs and tote bags — and thanks to every book lover who was gracious enough to accept my spiel and pony up a fiver, by the way — I can say with confidence that there were a lot of people there.   Positioned as I was directly across from the book-buying check-out line, I can also say that many books were being sold.

There were families and reading friends, would-be authors and genre fans.  At times, during the interim periods after one set of panel discussions ended and before the next began, the authors’ table area was jammed.  The picture above, taken from my table near the entrance, gives you some idea of the crowd.

Everyone I spoke to was enjoying the Festival and was glad they came.  Next year, maybe you can join us?

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IMG_3704If you live in Columbus, go on the Green Meanie website, find out where it’s going to be over the next few days, and see if they are going be be serving their Shiznite sandwich.  If they are, do yourself a favor — take some time, drive to wherever they are going to be, and have the Shiznite.  It is that good.

According to the hand-letter menu, the Shiznite is a panko-crusted dirty water hot dog on a New England roll with jalapeno cream cheese.  It is then topped with thick chopped bacon, avocado, onions, diced tomato, scallions, and cilantro, and drizzled with this butt-kicking shiznite sauce.  I tried it during the Ohioana Book Festival today — more on that tomorrow — and it was spectacular.  I don’t even like half of these ingredients, and I consumed the entire sandwich with relish, licked my fingers, and enjoyed every instant of the experience.  Seriously, the Shiznite is one of the best sandwiches I’ve ever had.

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If you’re in Columbus on Saturday and looking for something fun to do, why not stop by the Ohioana Book Festival?

The Festival runs from 10 to 4:30 at the Fort Hayes Metropolitan Education Center in downtown Columbus.  There will be interesting panel discussions, presentations by authors, and a day-long book fair and book sales.  A PDF of the program for the Festival is here.

Oh, yes . . . there will be food trucks, too:  Ajumama, which serves up some very sweet Korean street food; the Green Meanie, which dishes out an ever-changing menu of eclectic choices; Jeni’s Splendid Ice Cream, with its irresistible and stunningly creative options; Mikeys Late Night Slice, for the devoted pizza aficionados among us (and who isn’t, by the way); and the Short North Bagel Deli, for those craving bagels and deli sandwiches.

The awesome collection of food trucks strongly suggests a rhythm and roundelay to the day.  Grab a bagel, catch a panel discussion provocatively entitled Crime, True Crime, and the Unexplained, browse for books.  Savor some Korean chow, talk to some authors, check out a panel discussion on eating out in Cleveland.  And speaking of eating . . . Repeat, and repeat.  There are great choices on both the panel discussion and food truck fronts.

I’ll be there when the Festival doors open, volunteering for the Ohioana Library Association.  Stop by and say hello!

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If you’re a bibliophile — and what rational person isn’t? — mark your calendars for Saturday, May 11, 2013, when the Ohioana Book Festival returns to the Fort Hayes campus in downtown Columbus.

IMG_3362This year, the Festival features a great list of featured authors from the Buckeye state, as well as dozens of different festival authors, poets, and artists who will be participating in the activities.  Once again, the Festival will confirm the remarkable depth and breadth of talent to be found in this little corner of the world.  And although the program schedule has yet to be announced, you can be sure that there will be interesting presentations by authors, thought-provoking panel discussions, and some quirky moments leavened with humor — because that’s what you tend to get when you bring together highly creative people.

I’ll be volunteering at the Festival again this year.  Last year, I was an “information volunteer,” which gave me a chance to harangue incoming guests are some of the great events.  If you’re interested in volunteering, you can find more information here.

I hope to see some of our readers and friends at the 2013 Ohioana Book Festival!

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Some time ago a friend gave me The F Word by Jesse Sheidlower.  Published by the Oxford University Press, of all places, the book is both a history of the Queen Mother of Curses and a dictionary of its many uses.  It’s a fascinating read.

IMG_3084The origin of the f word is muddled by urban legend.  It’s not an acronym (sorry, Van Halen!) nor does it have anything to do with the French taunting English archers by encouraging them to pluck their yew bows.  Instead, the word is related to terms found in German, Dutch, Swedish, and Flemish with meanings like “to strike,” to “move back and forth,” and “to cheat.”  Although the precise source of the word is shrouded in the mists of time, it entered the English language (pun intended) in the fifteenth century.  It immediately became taboo — and also replaced the Middle English vulgarity for sexual intercourse, which was “swive.”  Powerless against the curtness and bluntness of the f word, “swive” fell into total disuse.  The f word went on to become the most obscene word in the English language, banned during the Victorian era and the most reviled of the “seven dirty words” George Carlin addressed.  Recently, as barriers to indecent speech have fallen and even Vice Presidents have lapsed into regrettable coarseness when congratulating Presidents, the use of the word in American society has become much more common.

The F Word provides an exhaustive listing of the many different uses of the f word.  As someone who tries to avoid casual obscenity — and fails utterly when referees make a bad call against my team in a big game — I was amazed by the broad utility of the word.  In addition to adding emphasis by being dropped, in its gerund form, into various parts of sentences (consider the different meanings conveyed by the question “When are you going to move your car?” if the f word is placed before “when,” “going,” “move,” and “car”) the word has been used to convey hundreds of different connotations, always with that shocking edge.

As the dictionary component of The F Word demonstrates, the versatility of this vulgar word is astonishing.  How many other words have been combined with “bum” to refer to a remote location, “cluster” to denote a disorganized mess, “flying” to signify a minimal amount, “holy” to indicate surprise, and “off” to tell someone to get away?  And, of course, those are only a few of the inventive applications of this powerful word.

The F Word is worth reading.  Just be sure to keep it away from your teenagers.

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As Milton recognized, every Paradise needs a Beelzebub or two.  Here in Antigua, the satanic actor is an invisible bloodsucking insect that has made mincemeat of my feet.

IMG_2355What’s especially devilish about these vicious biting bastards is that they don’t seem to bite everyone.  Kish, for example, has been left blissfully unpierced by the no-see-’ums.  Obviously, these are highly discriminating creatures.  But what is it that causes them to shun some people while leaving others tattooed with bites that itch like crazy?  Are they some form of hellish punishment for the wicked?  Or is there something about my blood that makes it especially attractive to these misbegotten monsters?  And why do these vermin seem particularly eager to nibble on my feet, which are now dotted with more welts than the Caribbean has islands?

It’s impossible to resist itching the bite marks, but fortunately Russell suggested going into the ocean — and it seems to have worked.  At least, the bites aren’t quite as itchy as they once were.  Rum drinks and cigars seem to help, too.

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Help!  I’m trapped in the middle of George R.R. Martin’s monumental A Song of Ice and Fire series of novels!

I started reading the books after Kish and I enjoyed the first season of HBO’s Game of Thrones.  We got the first four books in paperback, and I read them at a good clip.  It took a while, because the books are huge — almost 1000 pages each.  Then I got the fifth book from the library and read it with pleasure.

I’m not a big fan of the fantasy genre, but these books aren’t your standard fantasy fare.  They are vast, sprawling, richly charactered, carefully plotted epics that drench you in the reality of this strange world where the seasons are out of whack and human development seemed to stop in the medieval era, where it has remained frozen and unchanging for millennia.  The books are fascinating just as works of fiction and are well worth reading.

But here’s the problem — the fifth book ends mid-story with cliffhangers galore, and the sixth book is nowhere in sight.  What’s more, the sixth book won’t be the end of the tale; a seventh book will follow.  And to give you an idea of how long I might be waiting, consider the publication dates of the first five books:  A Game of Thrones (1996), A Clash of Kings (1998), A Storm of Swords (2000), A Feast for Crows (2005), and A Dance with Dragons (2011).  It may be optimistic to think that the next book will be out before the next presidential election.

So I sit, with countless characters and subplots and storylines fresh in my head, knowing that I will lose the golden thread by the time the next book in the series appears.  I’ll have to go back and re-read those thousands of pages to get refreshed and ready for book six, and then when I finish the sixth book I’ll have to do it all over again when the seventh book appears sometime after I become eligible for Social Security.  O, sweet misery!

It’s ridiculous to pine for years for a book, but it’s the reality.  Martin has set the hook so firmly I can’t walk away.  I want to know how the story ends.

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Tonight the Ohioana Library Association presented the annual Ohioana Awards.  This year the ceremony was in the vaulted basement of the Ohio Statehouse, an interesting old building that is full of nooks and crannies.  The backdrop to our ceremony was the darkened Statehouse Museum, with a very cool backlit depiction of the Great Seal of Ohio.

There was a great crop of Ohioana Award winners this year, and as usual it was particularly interesting to hear writers talk about their craft.  These days our state may be known to the nation as “Battleground Ohio,” but at its soul Ohio is a quirky, creative place that is home to many fine writers, poets, and artists.  It’s nice to see that reality affirmed every once in a while.

Congratulations to all of the winners of this years Ohioana Awards!

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Normally my autumn Sundays are pretty regimented.  I play golf in the morning, get home and have lunch, then watch the Browns.  By the time the Browns have lost — again — it’s just about dinner time, and the day is close to being done.

Today is different, however.  The golf course is closed for a special tournament.  The Browns have already played — and lost — so four hours that would have been spent in speechless rage and agony are now available for more pleasant pursuits.  As a result, a day that is typically heavily scheduled has no schedule at all.  The sense of liberty is exhilarating.  It’s a free day, one where I can do whatever I want.

So far this morning I’ve done some chores and caught up on various tasks that have piled up during the busy period.  Now the chores are done, the tasks are completed, and it’s time to enjoy myself.  Nothing sounds better than camping outside, enjoying the cool weather, bright sunshine, and autumn colors, sipping on a steaming cup of black coffee and digging into my book.

The patio beckons, and its allure is irresistible.

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When you’re traveling along on business, a good book is crucial.  The book will be your companion and entertainment at dinner, in airport gate areas, and on the plane itself.  If your book is great, it blunts the loneliness of life on the road.  If your book stinks, on the other hand, it makes your tedious time away from home seem immeasurably longer.

Lately I’ve been reading the Games of Thrones books by George R.R. Martin, and they are great road reads.  If you’ve watched the show, you know about the Game of Thrones world.  If you haven’t seen the show, envision a world of knights and kingdoms and dragons and magic where things haven’t changed for thousands of years.  The world is captivating and seems very real; the books are long and the length allows for subplots and back stories that the TV series can’t hope to match.  The books are full of surprises, and no character is safe from a sudden, unexpected demise.

I’m on book 3, called A Storm of Swords.  So far, all of the books have been real page-turners.  In fact, they might be too good — you want to stay up and keep reading late into the night.  When you’ve got a flight first thing in the morning, that’s not a good thing to do.

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I was saddened to learn of the recent death of Gore Vidal, the author, playwright, essayist, and a large and important figure on the American literary landscape.

Vidal cut a wide swath and was astonishingly prolific; he was known for his keen wit, his acerbic comments, and his public feuds with other cultural figures of the ’60s and ’70s.  He also was one of my favorite writers.  He wrote four of my favorite novels — Burr, 1876, Creation, and Lincoln — and I have relished reading, and rereading, them to this day.  I think I’ve read Creation about 10 times, and I would gladly begin reading it anew any time, any place.

Vidal had a knack for looking at the world from a different perspective that veered sharply away from conventional accounts of history; his willingness to articulate that viewpoint made his novels interesting and often hilarious.  (His less-than-flattering depiction of George Washington in Burr, for example, is extremely funny and makes you feel guilty for chuckling at the Father of Our Country, all at the same time.)

Vidal’s flamboyant personality and taste for controversy often seemed to overshadow the fact that he was an extremely talented writer.  He will be missed on the American literary landscape.

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During the summer months, when I’m looking for some light reading, I’ll often try books designed for younger people.  Years ago Richard strongly recommended the Harry Potter series; I read them and enjoyed them immensely.

There’s been the same kind of buzz about The Hunger Games trilogy by Suzanne Collins (as well as UJ’s enthusiastic review) so I decided to give it a try.  The first book was interesting, as it introduced a weird world and its repressive regime, dominated by TV broadcasts of a bloodthirsty game where children are killed as ratings soar — a kind of cross between The Lottery by Shirley Jackson, the Star Trek episode where the Roman Empire survived to the TV era, and standard sci-fi fare about evil governments of the future.  When the resourceful and quick-witted Katniss won the Hunger Games and outwitted the evil game designers, I was happy.

Often it’s difficult for follow-up books to maintain the pace of the original.  The interesting world has already been fully described, and the characters and plot need to carry the day — and sometimes they can’t.  That was my reaction to Catching Fire, the second book in The Hunger Games trilogy.  I grew weary of Katniss’ self-absorption and hand-wringing about her odd and confused relationships and came to groan when she launched into the latest internal monologue about her feelings toward Peeta and Gale.  And mostly I was bored by the cast of wooden, one-dimensional characters — the evil, blood-sucking President, the valiant clothes designer, the drunken tutor, among many others — and the increasingly unbelievable world in which they lived.  And when the book turned to Katniss and Peeta competing in another Hunger Games, I felt the same kind of “been there, done that” reaction I had when the last Star Wars movie revolved around the destruction of another Death Star.

I’m now on the third book, Mockingjay.  My eye-rolling at Katniss’ indecision continues, I’m tired of the creaky use of TV interviews to move the thudding plot along, and I’ve come to resent the people of this world who put up with brutal unfairness for decades when they apparently could have simply escaped to the woods or visited District 13 long ago.  I’ll finish the book, because I always do, and maybe it will improve — but for now I’m fed up with The Hunger Games.

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The search for extraterrestrial intelligence has made huge strides in recent years.

Using new techniques, scientists have identified many apparently habitable planets, thereby suggesting that the first ingredient of extraterrestrial intelligence — a planet where a sophisticated alien race might develop — is much more common than people once thought.  Studies have shown that life has developed and thrived in the most inhospitable climates on Earth, from superhot underseas vents to the coldest ice caves at our poles.  And now, astronomers are targeting specific stars with radio frequency searches designed to hear any radio wave activity.

The astronomers examined Gliese 581, a red dwarf 20 light years away that is orbited by six planets, including two jumbo-sized Earth-like planets.  If Gliese 581 were aiming a similar array at Earth, it would hear countless radio broadcasts from 20 years ago — lots of the music of Nirvana, and reports on the upcoming Bush-Clinton presidential election, no doubt.  But from Gliese 581, the astronomers heard . . . nothing.  If there is life on the planets in the Gliese 581 system, it either hasn’t progressed to the point of using radio technology or uses some other form of communication we haven’t discovered.

The fact that we haven’t heard an answer yet doesn’t mean life isn’t out there somewhere.  The technique used on Gliese 581 was targeted at a small dot in a universe that has countless such dots.  The astronomers could experience years of radio silence from their targets, but the world would change immediately if the radio astronomers heard alien communications from just one target — as was the case in Maria Doria Russell’s excellent novel The Sparrow.

We don’t know if we’re unique, and whether Earth is the only planet in the vast universe where intelligent creatures capable of extraterrestrial communications have developed.  Being something of a skeptic, I’m not willing to accept that proposition.  Time, and some more efforts to listen in on alien radio, will tell.

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I’m old enough to remember when some members of the younger generation thought Mao Zedong and the Chinese Communist Party were pretty cool.  You’d see people wearing t-shirts with Warholesque portraits of Chairman Mao (and of Che Guevara, too, but that’s another story), talking about the radical reforms that the brave Chinese Communists were attempting, and quoting from the sayings of Chairman Mao like he was a modern-day Confucius.

Both Richard and Russell have been to the Far East (Richard to China and Russell to Japan and Viet Nam) and one of them came back with Quotations From Chairman Mao Tse-Tung — Mao’s famous “little red book.”  I ran across it the other day and thought I would look to see what all of the fuss was about.

Having read the book — until I could take no more — I can safely say that Chairman Mao was one of the most boring writers ever.  Not only are his pronouncements often nonsensical drivel, it’s hard to imagine more leaden prose being written by any sentient being.  Consider this chestnut from the chapter Socialism and Communism:

“The people’s democratic dictatorship uses two methods.  Towards the enemy, it uses the method of dictatorship, that is, for as long a period of time as is necessary it does not let them take part in political activities and compels them to obey the law of the People’s Government and to engage in labour and, through labour, transform themselves into new men.  Towards the people, on the contrary, it uses the method not of compulsion but of democracy, that is, it must necessarily let them take part in political activities and does not compel them to do this or that, but uses the method of democracy in educating and persuading them.”

Huh?  Not only does this passage bear no relation to the reality of China under Mao — except for the dictatorship part, I guess — but I fell asleep about halfway through.  And the Little Red Book is chock full of such blather.

It just goes to show — you can’t just a book by its little red cover.

 

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We recently came into possession of some antique items of all shapes and sizes.  The purposes of most of them are obvious, but some of them are stumpers.

Consider this item, for example.  It’s made of tin, and in the shape of a book with a handle configured like a human ear.  When you open the “cover” of the book, you find a hinged metal interior lid with a transparent plastic cover.  At each end of the interior lid, also on hinges, is a triangular piece of metals with fittings.  The interior of the “book” also includes a single red candle.

I’ve figured out that you are supposed to flip out the triangular hinges on the interior lid, place the candle in the fittings, and light it.  But, for what purpose?  Is this a kind of votive candle holder that was handed out on some special occasion?  Or, is it a precursor to the modern bedroom reading light, intended to give the 19th century book-lover some light by which to read after the sun goes down, without disturbing their bed mate?  Is that why the entire contraption is in the shape of a book?

I’d do an internet search to try to solve this puzzle, but I wouldn’t know where to begin.  Can one of our intrepid readers provide some guidance?

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