I just finished reading The Optimist’s Daughter by Eudora Welty. After two years living in this town, I finally found my way to the college library. Got a card, even. And I checked out this book. It’s practically brand-spanking new, and it’s only been checked out twice before: in 1980 and in 1986. All three stamps are October. How odd. Must be the time of year for reading Eudora Welty?
I know she won a Pulitzer for this, and I adored her book about writing, One Writer’s Beginnings, but, dang. I didn’t like this one. I’m not sure why. Wonder what the other two people who read this particular copy of the book thought of it.
I just finished reading Calling Out for You by Karin Fossum, a Norwegian author. (The book is also known as The Indian Bride, as it was published in the United States.) Interesting read, but the book ended so abruptly that I wondered if something was missing from the book. I liked her writing well enough to read another of her books, but I feel as if three chapters got lopped off the end of this book.
I still get hung up on some of the translations. In some other books written by Norwegian authors, I thought it was odd to see a napkin called a serviette, which is what it’s called in Norway. But, no, I guess that’s what they call it in British English too. In this Fossum book, the one that popped out at me was when someone took out a “griddle cake,” which I believe was probably lefse. It would have made more sense to me to call that a flatbread.
Ah well. That’s the fun of reading various translations.
Justin Bieber certainly doesn’t need my help. But still. Y’all act like you’ve never seen the likes of him before. Seriously? Ever heard of Donny Osmond?
I just finished reading Berlin Poplars by Anne B. Ragde, a Norwegian author. This was also recommended to me this summer in Norway. Wow. Love this story. Love this author.
I recently read Astrid & Veronika by Linda Olsson, a Swedish writer. I’d heard about this in Norway this summer. It’s an amazing story by an amazing author!
I just finished reading The Redbreast (on Kindle) by Jo Nesbø, one of Norway’s most popular authors. He’s also a musician, and he’s from Molde. I’m not sure why I never read him before and why it’s taken me so long to get around to reading him because he’s fabulous.
The kids and I are also reading his Doctor Proctor’s Fart Powder, which is a lot of fun.
The only odd thing about his books would be the translations. They’re translated into British English, which, yeah, I know is different from American English. But some of the things just throw me off a bit. For example, his books never translate “gate” to “street.” Yeah, I get that it can be part of the proper name, but it’s still weird to keep thinking about gates and fences everywhere, when it’s really streets. And the children’s book is obviously set in Norway, translated to British English, but the money is dollars and cents. Try explaining all that to curious 6- and 7-year-olds. *head spinning*
I recently read Women Under Glass: The Secret Nature of Glass Ceilings and the Steps to Overcome Them by Eric Shoars, and I got to meet the author at my local bookstore. This book actually fits together with a couple other books I read over the summer. I’ll be working on a roundup of sorts.
I just read Runaway by Alice Munro, recommended by SommerÃ¥pent on NRK this summer in Norway. I really like what she does with characters. I was a bit thrown off, though, by the short stories, and I was frustrated she didn’t write more about Juliet. (She had three stories about this character.) I wish she would have written an entire book about her.
