Nom de Plume

Orphan Eric Dunne escapes his foster family with a scholarship to the prestigious Aberdeen College. An academically precocious boy, he attracts the attention of Art Fitch, a brilliant but unstable research assistant for Dr. Cade, the college’s most distinguished professor. Art brings him into Cade’s circle, where they embark on serious scholarship for the professor–and also on Art’s obsession: searching for the Philosopher’s Stone. A cast of eccentric–and really quite creepy–characters sets the gothic tone of this novel. A bit overwrought, but not bad–though I have to say that framing the tale as a flashback does nothing for the story and further distances us from Eric’s already often unclear motivations.

I’ve been having a run of bad luck when it comes to novels lately, and rather than admit my choices might be poor, I’m going to blame the limitations of the new books section of the Rainier Beach branch of the Seattle Public Library. This was awful.

Still on the hunt for great kiddie lit. This wasn’t it.

John and Philippa Gaunt discover they are djinn and are introduced to their crazy uncle. Then they go to Egypt to battle something or other. I didn’t get very far. The author states he wrote this book to encourage his son to read, but he could have done with a quick perusal of Fowler’s himself. Among other things, he was very fond of the phrase “like I said,” which is one of my admittedly many peeves, and seemed wholly unfamiliar with the rules governing the subjunctive. These bugged me even more than the poor plotting and the mediocre writing.

This was our bible. Recommend.

I suspect there isn’t much unbeaten path along the Oregon coast, and if there is, this book didn’t illuminate it. Perhaps better for central and eastern Oregon, but unhelpful for our purposes.

We joined 101 at Astoria, and drove into Nothern California. There are now only two small sections of Highway 101/1 that we haven’t driven: from Crescent City to San Francisco and from Bellingham up to the Canadian border. Actually, disgraceful as it is, I’ve never been to Canada at all. Perhaps this is the next trip. I’m feeling the need to get out of the country, though I’m not really sure if Canada qualifies. Maybe we need to get out of North America entirely.

The Ford Battlestar Galactica was much more comfortable that anything we’re used to. My car, being 31 years old, is not the plushest of rides. Steve’s Jeep is a Jeep, which is to say wholly utilitarian. But the rental was also incredibly irritating. Lots of automated lights, a really annoying “Message Center,” which bleeped that an oil change was required. As used to bare bone vehicles as we are, neither one of us could take all this automated stuff.

I got back at it, though, by backing into a tree.

Yes. Sigh, I really did. The damage wasn’t huge–just a small dent. Still we fretted the entire way back up the coast. And every time we passed a crunched car, Steve said, “Oh look, they ran into a tree too.” Now that’s partnerly support.

Got back, and rental guy said it was fine. So all’s well that ends well on that front.

Well, if this were true, I should have left the U.S. by now.

The Expatriate Achtung! You are 30% brainwashworthy, 27% antitolerant, and 23% blindly patriotic

Congratulations! You are not susceptible to brainwashing, your values and cares extend beyond the borders of your own country, and your Blind Patriotism (“patriotism” for short) does not reach unhealthy levels. In Germany in the 30s, you would’ve left the country. One bad scenario — as I hypothetically project you back in time — is that you just wouldn’t have cared one way or the other about Nazism. Maybe politics don’t interest you enough. But the fact that you took this test means they probably do. I’m gonna give you the benefit of the doubt. Did you know that many of the smartest Germans departed prior to the beginning of World War II, because they knew some evil shit was brewing? Brain Drain. Many of them were scientists. It is very possible you could be one of them, depending on your age. Conclusion: Born and raised in Germany in the early 1930′s, you would not have been a Nazi.

View them here.

Full and excruciatingly boring details of the trip to come.

The “I need to check my e-mail” jitters, that is. Seriously, I have an addiction; remove me from the Internet for more than 24 hours and I get shaky. 36 hours? I feel weak. 48 hours and I’m about to perish without my digital lifeline. All I can think, while looking at the stunning beauty of the coast, is whether I should start using flickr for my digital photos.

In all seriousness, this has been a great vacation. Scenery, gorgeous hikes, redwood forests, tidepools with starfish. Unfortunately, we haven’t surfed once; there aren’t any waves to speak of. Steve is upset about this, while I, dude, am more philosophical. And I’m particularly looking forward to our houseboat bed and breakfast tonight.

Peace out.