Retail therapy

Christmas book vouchers + University Book Shop = Happy Vanda

Two new titles added to the bedside table high rise sculpture today are:



The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, by Stieg Larsson

Bookman Beattie and others keep telling me I must read this, so I shall be obedient for once in my life. I have read so many great reviews, and being the type of gal who is easily swayed by popular opinion, I felt it my duty to read it and form my own view.





The Janissary Tree, by Jason Goodwin

This title has been lurking in my Books of Interest notebook (a black notebook with a stylish paua shell koru inlay) I spotted it on the shelf and it kind of jumped into my hand.

I had wanted to get Child 44 by Tom Rob Smith, so I could read it and see what a crime writer needs to do to get nominated for a Booker, but UBS were out of stock, so I've placed an order. I'll have to wait a bit before I can discover his secret.

Confessions of a slow reader

New year's resolutions are made to be broken. In fact the only New Year's resolution I've managed to keep so far is the one to stop doing housework - but even that's going to have to give sometime soon.

One of the vague generalisation resolutions I made was to try and read more this year. I read a lot, or so I thought until I tallied up my reading record (the one in the boring spiral bound grey school notebook) It fell far short of what I'd perceived to have read, and yeah, sure, it didn't take into account the short story collections I dip into but haven't read every single one so can't in all honesty write in as completed, or text books, or magazine and journal articles, but all the same, I was disappointed with my effort.

I think part of the problem is when it comes to reading, I am a savourer. I have friends who can polish off a novel in a day, no problem, but do admit to missing out on the intricacies of the language and the careful details. I envy them though, their ability to plough through their book lists and experience all those authors who I would love to read, but am realistic enough to know I will never make the time. I like to chew on the words, roll them around in my mouth and enjoy their flavour before swallowing and moving on to the next morsel.

So how does a savourer train herself to be a bit more of a gorger? I'm open to suggestions here!

My resolution to read more books is off to a shaky start. It's already half way through January and I have opened my first novel this morning. Yes folks, I have been through the entire summer holidays without even opening a book! Part of that was the need for a break, but also, most of the places we stayed at on our holiday didn't have bedside reading lights! I know, what were they thinking?!


This morning I finally opened and have started to read Joanne Drayton's Ngaio Marsh: Her life in Crime. I Brought this book in September, and it's been loitering on my bedside table since then, and finally reached the front of the queue.

I have a lot to read. There's the Ngaio Marsh novels from my Ngaio Marsh challenge. The books I read as research for the Write On radio show, books for reviewing on Dunedin Diary for Channel 9 television. Then there's the pile of books I brought last year and haven't got around to yet. (By the way, does anyone know the average stats for percentage of books actually read in any one person's library?)(Mine would be appalling.) Then there's those temptations you see in the shops and have an overwhelming need to possess, or the books reviewed on blogs that pique your curiousity, let alone the books that you think you should read to be a rounded reader, that everyone kindly refer to as classics.

Hmmmm.

So wish me luck in my quest to read more. I'm realistic enough to not put an actual number on my target, that's just setting yourself up for failure. But I would like to beat last year's 50ish. (The vagueness due to my belief I must surely have forgotten to record some titles.)

I shall endeavour to up my spead from snail to amble.

Muti murders and other nasties

It's Summer School time at the University of Otago. Courtesy of traveling away up north for the holidays I didn't enrol in any papers this year, although I was kindly given permission to gate crash a few of the lectures in this year's Forensic Biology course. Most of the course is a repetition of the one I did last year, but I did want to catch the lectures by visiting South African forensic anthropologist Maryna Stern, from the University of Pretoria.

Listening to overseas specialists always gives you an appreciation of how good we've got it in New Zealand. Here are some scary statistics she outlined about South Africa.

It has a population of around 46 million, plus an estimated 8 million illegal immigrants.

There are 18 000 - 20 000 murders per year officially, and she thought that was on the low side of reality.

There are 150 000 gunshot wound incidents.

14 000 car highjackings.

This is why so many choose to emigrate here!

They bury over 10 000 unidentified bodies every year. These aren't all from murders or foul play. Many are just people who have died of natural causes and have been found. Many people have no official documents, and have never been to a denist, so have no dental records or medical records to aid in identification.

She also talked of the incredible superstitions of the native population and of some of the Muti Murders. Muti means strong medicine, and they believe body parts have inherent powers, and are so targeted for use in medicines. The victims are often children.

It was a fascinating lecture and as I said earlier, it made me appreciate how peaceful life is in our country.

It also brought to mind the Mo Hayder book I read last year, Ritual. This book carries themes of Muti murders and superstition in the immigrant population in Britain.

It got me to thinking would a novel based on this kind of superstitious magic work in a New Zealand setting? Would readers be able to imagine people being murdered for body bits to go in magical concoction in our quiet little island paradise?

Stranger things have happened.

Death in Ecstasy

By Ngaio Marsh

Nigel Bathgate has followed his nose into the temple of the Sacred Flame, a cult under the thrall of charismatic priest Jasper Garnette. As Bathgate watches the ceremony in which the Chosen Vessel drinks from the Flaming Cup, the young woman initiate drinks, twitches and pitches forward dead.

The cup has clearly been poisoned with cyanide and Bathgate calls his friend Chief Detective Inspector Roderick Alleyn onto the case.

They find themselves immersed in the inner workings of a cult that seems to cater for the monied and restless, where petty jealousy and pandering for the favours of the cults leader seems to be the norm. So is the motive jealousy, or money? Both are involved. Throw in an outspoken American, odd and challenged couple, young women and plenty of gullible people, et voila, you have a mystery.

I enjoyed this book. It was first published in 1936, but I couldn't help but imagine this is what it is like in modern day cults which prey on the monied, disenchanted and gullible.

Of birthdays and Inspiration bouquets

Mr Six-year-old made the transformation to Mr Seven-year-old the other day. naturally there was a party involved, with little friends and all the main food groups starting with ch - chippies, cheerios, cheezels and chocolate.

While on holiday he grew very attached to giraffes so I made him a giraffe cake, replicating the giraffe enclosure at Orana Park, with the assistance of some Lego friends. Creating cakes is one of the best bits about organising a party.

Seven does seem so very grown up. When they hit seven you can't kid yourself anymore that the wee poppets have just started school and are little and babyish. Nooooo, they don't let you think that. At seven, they correct you, your grammar, general knowledge, and you can't fudge answers and make them up anymore as they come right back at you. Actually, he's been doing that for years.

The party was lots of fun, with a treasure hunt, hide and seek, and the priceless joy of seeing a group of little kids belting out ABBA songs on ABBA Sing Star. Took me back to my childhood and made me have yearnings for a girls night, with some good wine and a few ABBA moments of our own.
The other lovely surprise was being given an Inspiration Award by dear Joanne Ganley at Aspiring Writer - Thanks Joanne - you made my day!

Part of this Inspiration Award is you hand it on to other bloggers who inspire you and whose blogs add that sparkle to your day. In fact there are rules :

1. Please put the logo of the award on your blog.
2. Link to the person from whom you received the award.
3. Nominate 7 or more blogs.
4. Leave a message on their blogs to tell them.

I find that most of the bloggers who have already been nominated by Joanne are my regular ports of call and are bloggers who prop up my psych, so my nominations will repeat some Aspiring Writer's, but hey, that's OK, because it reinforces to them that their regular postings and musings are appreciated and valued by many!

So in no particular order:

Joanne, this one is coming right back at you. I enjoy dropping by and seeing what you are up to at Aspiring Writer and enjoy the pics from your garden.

Rachael at The Sound of Butterflies

Mary Mac at O Audacious Book

Graham at Beattie's Book Blog

Paula at Trendy But Casual

The Paradoxical Cat at Schroedinger's Tabby

Claire at Ice Lines

Kerrie at Mysteries in Paradise

So you see folks, I have become rather dependent on my friends in the blogosphere for maintaining my sanity and equillibrium.

I'm sure the time I spend visiting is time well spent.

Under the Christmas Tree

Christmas isn't Christmas without books. Every year I hold my breath while whoever is wearing the red hat and playing Santa hands out the gifts and I pray something book shaped will be delivered. Lucky me - several book shapes were delivered.

I didn't receive and crime fiction this year, but did get a great looking crime non-fiction book from my understanding Hubby. Murder, Mayhem and Mischief, by Graham Bell. Graham was a high profile police officer before his retirement and also presenter of the crime busting police show Police Ten 7. This books tells of his career, some of the characters, high profile cases, frustrations and everyday life in the New Zealand police force. This should be a very useful book for a gal like me.


It was also a cook book Christmas, with three new additions to the kitchen shelf:


Jo Seager: The Cook School Recipes. We'd been coveting this one in the book shops before Christmas, so were delighted to be gifted it. Only trouble with being on holiday has been we haven't had the chance to test drive any of the recipes. I plan to remedy that soon.






Molto Italiano by Mario Batali. We loved watching Mario 's television show where he visited Italian restaurants and food artisans in America. So Hubby gave me this book which looks just scrumptious. I have salivated over the pages, and look forward to dining Italiano style soon.

And coincidentally, I gave Hubby Mario Batali Italian Grill, seeing as he is king of the BBQ - Hubby, as well as Mario. We will be eating well!


We're going to need a bigger kitchen bookshelf.

Home sweet home

After 3686.3 km of tootling around the countryside in the car, we are finally home. I don't like to be the whingy type, but I was quite relieved to leave the 36 degree heat of Christchurch on Friday, and swap it or Dunedin's 14 degrees and rain.

A few holiday highlights...

Christmas with family in Palmerston North.
The pohutukawa trees in flower in Wellington.
Taking the kids on the electric train into Wellington city and discovering the Wellington Railway Station has a platform 9 3/4
Riding on the miniature trains in Havelock North.
Riding on the miniature railway in Palmerston North.
Looking at the model railway near Mt Bruce.
(This holiday featured a lot of trains)
Feijoa Rush Munro icecream in Hawkes Bay.
Seeing someone in the waiting room at the Wellesley Rd Medical Centre in Napier reading Overkill. (Don't ask why we were there!)
The meercats at Wellington zoo.
Hand feeding the giraffes at Orana Park in Christchurch.
Seeing the coracle the survivors of the Dundonald shipwreck built and sailed in between Disappointment Island and Auckland Island over 100 years ago. Go see it at the Christchurch museum.

Biggest disappointment:

They've replaced the wonderful old two-level one-way bridge on State Highway 1 near Seddon, where the cars go underneath on the rickety wooden roadway and the trains on top. I'd spent the half hour before we got to it telling the kids how cool it was going on a bridge where the trains trundled above you, building up their anticipation and then we get to it and ... disappointed!

Anyway, here we are at home, the laundry is dealt with, the car emptied out of bags, toys, a large assortment of feathers found on the way and numerous chocolate wrappers. The mail's been collected from the neighbours including a few more Christmas cards and pressies and the Sunday newspapers the dopey folk delivered despite me putting them on hold. The cat has been picked up from the boarding kennels and won't let us out of her sight.

It's back to the real world.