Another vague memory. Can anyone remember a fantasy which featured the phrase "Earl owl of owl hall"?
A google book search reveals that this phrase was mentioned in
The Nesbit tradition: the children's novel in England, 1945-1970
by Marcus Crouch. But they not only don't display the page, they don't tell the page number the phrase is found on. So still don't know the book or the author (Nesbit tradition is pretty vague - could be lots of authors)
Hey P-Cow (and others), there's a new Lorrie Moore book out.
I HEARD ABOUT THAT A FEW WEEKS AGO AND FLIPPED OUT. I hope it's good.
I hope it's good.
Both reviews in the NYTimes rated it as her best work yet. Deeper, richer, more ambitious.
Typo Boy - I'm 80% certain that "Earl owl of owl hall" is from the first of the Gormenghast books, "Titus Groan", by Mervyn Peake. (Specifically, after Earl Sepulchrave goes barking bonkers and starts sitting on the mantle of his chambers, hooting like an owl.)
I might be wrong; I don't own a copy to use for research.
Speeeeaking of urban fantasy, my friend Seanan's debut novel comes out on Tuesday, and it's very good! Plus, it's set in San Francisco. I urge all Buffistas to check out Rosemary and Rue.
And I will probably be sending out an e-mail or posting in Press later too, but for all SF-istas, she's doing a reading at Borderlands this Saturday. Come on out!
A couple of people recommended
Love is a Mix Tape
to me and I'm almost done with it. It's a sad, true story and, yes, there is a lot of my 90s indie rock in there (Pavement, Bettie Serveert, Grenadine, etc.). However, the guy completely pissed me off with this line, which I read last night:
Like all girl bands, they spent all their time thinking up cool band names and cool song titles and cool ideas for matching outfits, with only occasional efforts to actually play songs.
Fuck you, buddy! Keep in mind that this guy is a fucking music critic. Pissed me off so much I may not finish the damned book and I'm almost done.
Wow. I'm not a big 90s indie rock fan at all...but that line made my blood pressure spike.
I can forgive a lot of stupidity from Sheffield (he is a writer for Rolling Stone, after all, which means that his rock IQ is professionally limited). I liked that book, though. My son's best friend Ruby is the niece of Sheffield's late wife, and it was neat seeing echoes of the aunt she never knew.
I can see how it would be great to have as a family member, and I do feel for the guy and his wife and the friends/family. Tragic. But I picked up on lots of subtle sexism, aside from the actual sexist line I quoted previously. Hard to take from someone who professes his love for Sleater-Kinney. I'm sure those "girls" spent a lot of time thinking about their outfits and song titles. Grrr.