I have occasionally lowbrow taste in books. For example, the first Anita Blake mystery I ever read was Obsidian Butterfly, which I still think is about the best one, and it has pretty much no sex in it. Well maybe a little. But anyway, since then I have read more in the series, even when it has descended into polyamorous plotless oddly written orgy descriptions interspersed with drama instead of, you know, mysteries. Which only bugs me if I turn my brain on. If I don’t, I quite like it, since it is a little bit quite like some of the inside of my head. Cough.
And lately, since I am reading good fiction for work (by the way, Andrew Davidson’s The Gargoyle* is well worth the hype if you don’t mind a little magic realism in your literary fiction**, and yes, I mention that JUST because I read an advance reader copy in June and ARCs are still a thrill to me; excellent Globe and Mail story here), I have been reading trash at home, including catching up on Anita’s exploits, including books I hadn’t read before.
So tonight Noah wanted to hold one of the books as he went to sleep. That’s fine; he often treats books as lovies, probably because I kept falling asleep reading and nursing him and dropping them (gently) onto his face so he associates them with the early idyllic rocking chair.
As I’m sitting there I hear this:
“Kuh! Kuh ihh! Kuh ihh Luh! Klil!”
Yah, one of my son’s first spontaneous attempts at decoding: The Killing Dance.
Sigh. Does Ikea sell locking bookcases? :)
* P.S. You also must know that I am a sucker for any author’s story of “how I wrote this book” that begins with an irascible and mysterious female appearing to said author. Not only am I such a creature myself if you reach far enough back in the system’s history, but I am daily confronted by Lynn.
** P.P.S. And now that I think about it, the Anita Blake books actually are sort of third cousins to The Gargoyle in some ways. Not the orgies or indeed polyamory but there are some of the same underpinnings in terms of love, craziness, fate, and gore.
Oh!
We use the top shelves for that purpose. So far, so good.
But yay for Noah trying to read! Long may he decode.
Unfortunately he climbs to the top (they are all fastened, and we are working at it, but, he does.)
So that’s why they include those fasteners with every box ;-) We never needed them.
It’s funny which risks each kid presents. We never did get around to covering all the electrical outlets, because Snuggly Girl didn’t have any interest in them. On the other hand, we moved a giant floor plant to My Love’s office because she loved taking out handfuls of dirt. (More annoying than risky, that one.)
Ah, Anita Blake. I’m afraid the Soap Opera Crazies weren’t my thing, but the early books were fantastic. (Sounds like the Twilight series ended with the same far-out plotlines — maybe it’s something about the genre? Although Buffy turned odd for entirely different reasons; I was never a big fan of the multiple slayers, or Spike’s odd turn.)
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