As August Slip-Slides Away

Note for 2027: More phlox!

Blooming early or late or repeatedly?

I did not start life as a bookseller until until I was 45 years old, Tree Guy was 41 before he “found himself” as an arborist, and several friends of mine have now published first novels after retiring from life-long careers, so I have to smile at a little book by Brendan Gill called Late Bloomers. It is encouraging to turn the pages and see how many other men and women can legitimately be called “late bloomers.” Artists, composers, writers, scientists, and more. One wonders what answers they give when asked in grade school what they wanted to be when they grew up. 

Book cover

Some late bloomers knew all along what they were destined to do with their lives. 

One of the most agreeable forms of blooming late is to have bloomed early without the knowledge of the world beyond one’s doorstep and then, on being discovered in old age, to find the world crowding that doorstep and singing one’s praises.

That is the paragraph introducing the reader to photographer Jacques-Henri Lartigue, though Julia Child’s discovery of French cooking is more in line with what we usually think of as a late bloomer’s blossoming. It is a friendly little book, each biographical sketch only a page long, with a photograph of the bloomer on the page opposite. And what a cast of characters!

List of book's "late bloomers"

At this time of year, however, I can’t even think the words ‘bloom’ and ‘blossom’ and such without thinking of wildflowers and gardens. The little grey-headed coneflower is one of my favorite native meadow flowers, and I’m pleased to see it appearing in more and more yards and fields, as well as noticing it spreading to new areas in my meadow. 

At home on the porch

In front of Northport Area Heritage Association building

Daylilies take their name from the all-too-short length of their blossoms, but for the single day that each flower blooms it is glorious!

One of my favorite annuals for three or four years now is bacopa, which seems to go through at least three periods of flowering throughout the season. I didn’t used to care much for snapdragons—until I realized how extraordinarily hardy they are: Two pots from last year survived on my unheated porch all winter, without watering, and came back to life this spring, blooming all summer long. Then there was this year’s exciting discovery of the black petunia! Wow! Not a big petunia fan in general, I am in love with the black ones and the way they set off green plants without flowers of their own. 

Counterclockwise from lower left:
Bacopa, rose, black petunia, ivy, blue salvia

Summer is too short! It flies by too fast!

Back from a quick overnight to the U.P., we plunged into laundry and yard work, and I had one of my these-days-rare author events on Thursday afternoon with Jennifer Sager. Naturally, I would have liked three times as many people in attendance, but those who were here had a very good time. Jenny read, people asked questions, and the room rang with many bursts of laughter, always a sign that people are enjoying themselves at a book event.

Monday following U.P. and author event, Sunny and I got back for another session with Coach Mike, only our third this season. We had done well the first time, but I was very muddled in our second session. This past Monday we were on top of our game! My sisters had arrived on Saturday afternoon and stayed until Tuesday morning but didn’t get to see the agility teamwork, as they were on vacation and not getting up early (and who can blame them?). 

What did sisters and Tree Guy and Naughty Barker do together? There were lots of meals, of course, and lots of tennis ball throwing. We humans also made a visit to Good Harbor beach (my first Lake Michigan day of the season!), and on Monday, with perfect temperatures and a sweet little breeze, the sisters made a brief stop at Tandem Ciders, just long enough to taste three ciders and come home with a bottle of Smackintosh to go with our porch supper. Tree Guy pronounced the three sisters “Amazing!” Aw, shucks!

A handful of links, given with as little comment as I can manage:

If you do not regularly read Robert Reich's substack, please take the time to read this one. Do it for me!

Adam Kinzinger is someone I follow daily. Here's what he had to say about the U.S.S. Abraham Lincoln.

Another Kinzinger post, this one reminding all of us that we can be brave and what it takes.

I read this morning that SCOTUS has “halted the pause”--or was it “paused the halt”?--on the new ballroom for the White House. If only I could include a friend's response here! But I'm afraid my blog would explode. As for my response, I can only hope that there will soon be a suspension of the halt to the pause (or pause to the halt).

Need a change of pace? Here's an esoteric bit from the literary corner, something about a children's series author whose name is completely unfamiliar to you. Or should I not assume?

Heads Up for October

Michigan author Bonnie Jo Campbell, author of Q Road, Once Upon a River, The Waters, as well as several volumes of short fiction, will be in Northport on Thursday, October 30, at 4 p.m. (MARK YOUR CALENDAR NOW!) with her new novel, The Spirits, a contemporary Christmas Carol billed by her publisher (Norton) as "a tale of love, transgression, and the miraculous healing power of the holiday table.” I do wish I could have Charles Dickens here on that day to meet Bonnie Jo Campbell, as I’m pretty sure they would have a lot to say to each other—and what a lively conversation that would be for the rest of us to hear!

BJC has written a Christmas story!!!

Taking a Short Break

Besides my usual Sunday-Monday closure, my shop will also be closed Tuesday and Wednesday of next week, as Tree Guy, Naughty Barker, and I make another dash to the U.P., this one for three nights instead of only one. I’ll be back in the shop on Thursday, 27, and then no more absences until maybe the second or third week of September. I’ll let you know. At least one reader of my blog has requested a “travel” post, though, and you know I have to leave home to produce such a thing.

"Will I have to be a good girl in the car?"
"Yes, Sunny, you will."

But yes, I shall return, because we are nowhere near the last rose of summer yet! And when I come back, I will have a new book to share!

Summer Flowers

WELCOME!!!

First we had a flood in Northport, then a heat wave, then smoke-filled air, more rain and wind and surprising cold, and now we are back to practically perfect summer weather: blue skies and sunshine, with temperatures in the 70s. Idyllic times from a weather standpoint, and village gardens are responding with glorious blooms.

I had an author visit recently, Diane Les Becquets (pronounced lay-beck), who wrote Where the Water Meets the Sky, a novel set in the U.P., stopped by with her dog, Izzy. It was lovely to meet them both! Diane's novel, while not in the murder mystery genre, holds several mysteries and surprises. Suspense in a beautiful Michigan setting!

Diane and Izzy

Carlos

I’m being lazy this time around with a new blog post. My excuse, if I need one, is that I’ll be onstage next Tuesday evening to interview guest author Robert “Carlos” Fuentes with his book, The Vacation, a 2025 Michigan Notable winner, at the Willowbrook Inn on Mill Street (7 p.m.). It will be the fourth and this year’s last FOLTL summer author series evening for 2026 so don’t miss it if you’re in town. Carlos is a delight, and you’ll learn a few things, too, about the life of orchard workers in the 1960s.

For more bookstore and book news, see the most recent post on my other bookstore blog. 

And now I’ll write no more but simply include a short list of quotes gleaned recently from books I picked up in my shop:

From Adrienne Rich’s essay called “A Leak in History”: “For ordinary people to sing or whistle used to be as common as breathing.” (That's how we were in my family. I'm still that way.) 

From How to Imagine: a narrative on art and agriculture, by Gianfranco Baruchello & Henry Martin: “I decided to reorganize a couple of bureau drawers. I was running out of storage space and there were some things that had to be gone through so that some of them could get thrown out, and that’s not always easy since I have a curious kind of fidelity where objects are concerned. If something gets dropped or accidentally placed somewhere, I tend to leave it there and it’s difficult to decided just to throw it away or to put it someplace else…. It’s just where it is since that’s where it seems elected to stay in.” (Sort of how I live.)

From “Westward Ho” (the second Brown Dog story), by Jim Harrison: “The hardest thing for a rural stranger in a huge city is to figure out the relationship between what people do for a living and where they live. …In Los Angeles any sort of comprehension is out of the question….” (In Northport, we pretty much know what people do.)

From the poem “Dulce Siempre,” by Pablo Neruda: “Sin nosotros o con nosotros/lo dulce seguirá viviendo/y es infinitamente vivo/eternamente redivivo/porque en plana boca del hombre/para cantar o para comer/está situada la dulzura.” (So lovely!)

From The Book of Dead Philosophers, by Simon Critchley: “Bergson died a genuinely heroic philosophical death.” (That's what I've always maintained.)

From Heather Cox Richardson’s “Letters From an American,” July 22, 2026: “Fascism has always been a vehicle for frustration with a system that was failing the people. But it has never been a solution for fixing that system.” (Again and again, people fall for "solutions" that have proven false every time they've been tried!)

* * *

I won’t even include a political rant today. Either you see the blinding light of an oncoming metaphorical train wreck or you’re still blind to the desperate crisis our country is suffering. If the former (as I fervently hope), don’t give up! 

¡Nunca te rindas!

And don't stop counting blessings!

Northport World News

  

UPDATE 9/3/25

Sorry, but the hours announced below for this week might not work out at all. Car trouble to deal with. I'll get to town when I can....

----

What does Labor Day mean for you? This year, for me, it means that school will start soon and the mentoring program at Northport will start up again, so I should be reunited with the student I mentored last spring. I look forward to that. Otherwise, it’s time for me to think about fall hours, maybe taking Mondays as well as Sundays as days off. As for the Monday holiday itself, I’ll probably be open, at least for a few hours. Maybe Tuesday will be my holiday. 

Traverse City author Robert Downes has won a book-of-the-year award from the Historical Society of Michigan for his nonfiction book, Raw Deal: The Indians of the Midwest and the Theft of Native Lands. Long ago (but recent enough that I remember it: 1991) Bob Downes and George Foster started the Northern Express, a local weekly covering the local Grand Traverse region scene. When they sold the paper, his partner went back to accounting, and Bob turned to travel and writing. Latest of his books, Raw Deal begins with indigenous prehistory and follows Native Americans east of the Mississippi up to the present day. I’ll have to restock soon, because I had only one copy left when Bob stopped in on Friday. Graciously, however, he signed that copy.

Another nonfiction book that’s been getting raves from my customers is The Turtle and the Mitten: An Epic History of Michigan, by Aaron Helman. Aaron’s book is more general Michigan history and addresses various periods, one topic at a time, beginning with Detroit and then going back to Pontiac and Tecumseh, forward to the Toledo Strip (read the book to find out what this is, if you didn’t grow up in Michigan), and so forth. An accessible and entertaining introduction to our state’s history, The Turtle and the Mitten is finding a wide audience.

That’s Up North literary news. Farther afield, Geraldine Brooks has won the 2025 Library of Congress Prize for American fiction, and I could not be more pleased. I think there’s only one of her books that I haven’t read.

At home, I had another visitor and a chance to catch up on family news. The next evening, Wednesday, it rained, so mowing grass was out of the question, and I set aside my halfway sort of backup plan to spend the evening on bookkeeping. A rainy evening invited relaxation. Providing Sunny Juliet with a fresh, juicy bone, then, I settled down on the porch with a novel instead, feeling beyond cozy…. 

My “Shelf Awareness” newsletter had recently shown a chalkboard outside a bookstore somewhere with one arrow pointing in—to BOOKS—and the other pointing out—to CRUEL WORLD. Fiction, however, does not have to be (and isn’t even primarily) “escape” literature. The book by Nevil Shute that I dove into the other evening, Pied Piper, set in the early days of World War II, certainly was not. The novel's protagonist, an "elderly" English widower (he is 70!!!) whose pilot son has been killed, recounts what began as a getaway fishing vacation in the Jura region of not-yet-occupied France. As the war comes closer and closer, he was persuaded to take charge of a young brother and sister whose parents, determined to remain at the father’s League of Nations job in Switzerland, want their children home in England, safe from the war, and he agrees to see the young ones home. For one reason and another as he crosses France with the original two children, his entourage of dependents grows (hence the novel's title), and the dangers and risks of travel mount precipitously when the Germans invade France, their planes bombing the roads and their soldiers occupying towns and villages. The old man (as the author calls him) with the growing band of children in tow is an Englishman—the enemy! Will he be able to save the children? Military occupation, abductions and disappearances, accusations of disloyalty, civilians as enemies—it all felt much closer to home than I would have thought possible a year ago.

The journals I’ve been keeping for about nine years bear Roman numerals and titles. My current volume is XIV, and its title is “So Far.” I use those two little words often these days. I wrote to a friend that “so far” my health and strength are holding out, “so far” I’m managing this and keeping up with that. In my eighth decade, though, I know the day will come when “so far” turns into “no longer.” It’s inevitable. I have friends who no longer hike or no longer drive--well, the list goes on, but I'll stop there.

 

I only hope and pray that "so far" becoming "no longer" will not be the case for our country and that we do not reach a stage when women are “no longer” allowed to vote, when Americans can “no longer” travel across state and national borders, when speech dissenting from government propaganda and a dominant party line is “no longer” free, etc., but curbs on freedom are already underway, with others under serious discussion by influential members of the Republican Party and supporters of the president.

(What makes the setting aside of Constitutional protections and provisions even more maddening is that the people going along with it have the nerve to call themselves “conservative”!)

How many of you have ever read any books by Studs Terkel? He interviewed Americans on his Chicago radio program from 1952 to 1997, and many of the stories he elicited from interviewees found their way into books. The first I ever read was Working, and immediately I became a Terkel fan. One of the latest books in his long list (not quite his last) was Hope Dies Last: Keeping the Faith in Difficult Times, first published in 2003. 

 

For Studs Terkel, hope never died, and the same was true for most of the people he interviewed, though various of them defined hope differently and found it in different ways and places. More than one person in the book found hope in the struggle itself. At least one found it in taking action. Not in seeing light but in lighting the way themselves or even going forward in the dark.

 

I intended to make a gift of Hope Dies Last to a friend, but he assures me he will return it after reading, so I have now decided that it will be a book I’ll loan out to anyone who expresses an interest. Let me know if you are interested. I’ll start a list. 

 

Keep the faith, 

my friends. 

Keep hope alive.

You can do it! Extend yourself!

How Do You View It?

Weeds are looking weedier. This is chicory.

The Artist liked to call August “the rotten heart of summer.” It's the time when much of what was bright and blooming starts to look tired, tattered and seedy. The atmosphere reeks of pollen, especially that of Queen Anne's lace, rank smell belying regal name.

The more common name for late summer is “dog days,” the name coming from the Dog Star, Sirius, appearing in the sky close to sunrise. (“What is the brightest star in the sky?” my parents would ask little toddler P.J., and I would respond on cue with the answer they had taught me, “Sirius, the Dog Star!” Did I lisp the name?) Hot, humid, dense, thick, and heavy lies the air in northern Michigan during the dog days. 

The angle of the light seems changed (and probably is).

A time of thunderstorms and frequently the most uncomfortable stretch of summer, the dog days are also, paradoxically, a popular time for family vacations. My birth family—father, mother, three girls—always vacationed in August. The reasoning was that lakes were still cold in June, and if we put off vacation until just before school we could look forward to it for weeks. It was our summer's dessert. 

Sunny takes the seasons and their changes in stride.

When I look at the etymology for "dog days," I find the familiar story of Sirius but also learn that Swedes and Finns call this time the “rot month,” warmer weather making infections and food spoilage more likely. It seems the Artist was not alone in his thinking.

In France, traditionally, all family vacations were taken in August, which made it beastly hard on foreign tourists. All over the City of Light, shops were closed up tight. Where to obtain the daily baguette? Finally Parisians got wise and began staggering annual closures within each neighborhood so that every quartier had at least one bakery, one grocer, one cafe, etc. open that month. 

Restaurant workers and retail clerks in Michigan tourist towns are worked pretty hard by the time the dog days roll around. Many schools also begin before Labor Day, leaving many businesses short-handed without their seasonal student help. 

And yet also in August come many regular annual customers. For me, many are dear friends I look forward to seeing every year. Kids grow taller, graduate from high school and then college, get married, have children of their own. Grandkids arrive! And we older ones grab the opportunity to catch up on each other’s lives and wish each other healthy winters until another summer rolls around. For now, we’re still here! We’re still here!

More Friendship!

My friend Juleen and I RELAXED together!

Sunny and I had more company! A friend of mine from decades-ago Kalamazoo days, Juleen has made her home in Tucson, Arizona, for such a long time now that lush, jungly, green and humid Michigan was a visit to her past in more ways than one. Before coming up to see me in Leelanau, she reunited with old friends she had worked with years ago at a camp down in Arcadia, Michigan, and after our time together she turned back south again to Kalamazoo, where more friends awaited. While she was here, we enjoyed two leisurely evenings and two mornings together, and I shared with her some of my "wild nearby." She remarked on the look of so many Michigan gardens, with little to no space between plants: In Arizona desert landscapes, plenty of open space is left between plants to eliminate hiding places for rattlesnakes!

Sunny has become more gregarious this summer with each successive visit. She is finally starting to see visitors as playmates rather than as intruders. She was positively a pest at times, wanting Juleen to play, play, play with her all the time, but that was better than nervous, hostile barking, and by the second morning Juleen caught on to giving firm commands when she wanted a break. I was very happy that my dear friend and my dear dog got along so well!

"Come play with me!" Sunny kept saying.

Naturally, my friend spent time with me in my bookshop, also, where neighbor Clare obligingly photographed us together. The image immediately below is the only one that was slightly blurred, but I am using it, anyway, because I love its liveliness. 

We laughed a lot.

We laughed about all kinds of things!

And here is a photo that didn't make into a previous post:

My sisters and my dog!

Author! Author!

People who came to hear Tim Mulherin speak on Wednesday evening were glad they had made the time. His presentation was informative, sensitive, and entertaining (he has a subtle and wry sense of humor), and the audience was attentive and engaged, several people staying afterward to talk with him further. I was only sorry I didn't have twice as many people on hand to appreciate (and reward him for) his good work. I do, however, have signed copies of his book for those who missed meeting him and hearing him speak.

Other Books

Every American should read Robert Reich’s new book, Coming Up Short: A Memoir of My America. Every American, from yellow dog Democrats to MAGA Republicans—and also all Independents and disaffected voting dropouts. Every American. Much more than a memoir, the book is American political history from postwar 1950s to the present day. Not from someone running for office or married to a political party or in bed with large corporate interests, either! Robert Reich may be smarter than you and me (he’s certain smarter than I am), but his head is not in the clouds. I have the hardcover book in my shop, and the audiobook is available through libro.fm. If your library doesn’t have it, they need to get it. Read the book! Then share your thoughts with me, please, whatever those thoughts may be.

I also want to plug a couple new nonfiction books with special regional interest. The first is The Vacation: A Teenage Migrant Farmworker’s Experience Picking Cherries in Michigan, by Robert "Carlos" Fuentes, a happy Lake Leelanau story. 

The second, very different book, is Prison: The Inside Story — Transforming Lives as an Officer and an Educator, by Jack Myette, the story of his 25 years in Michigan prison work, which I only received and am beginning to read today ( Thursday, 8/14). 

Agricultural work and prison life are two very different aspects of American life, common only in that many Americans never experience either one. That’s one reason I am recommending these books. Another is that both titles come from Michigan authors. And the third is that I believe both can help us, in important ways, when we are considering and making choices about the kind of Michigan and the kind of United States we want to shape for the future—a message that was part of what Tim Mulherin (section above) said in the conclusions of his prepared remarks on Wednesday evening. 

What's ahead? Who knows?

There is no stopping change, but we can at least try to guide it away from treacherous shoals and into safer water if we are clear about what changes we can accept and which we absolutely don't want. Farm workers, like all who live and labor, deserve safe working conditions and decent treatment, the kind Carlos and his family enjoyed. And when people who have committed crimes must pay the price by losing their freedom, they should not also lose their humanity. (Prisons should not be "monster factories.") I'll get back to you with more on Myette's book when I've had a chance to read it. 

Goldenrod is exploding everywhere like silent fireworks.

Is summer almost over?

Don’t cry! Summer’s ending is autumn's beginning, a cooling-off and slowing-down in tourist trade (though teachers and others are gearing up, I know), and then before we know it we will have beautiful fall colors and a tide of new fall books.

Black-eyed Susans have not all gone to seed yet.

 

Guest Book Review: IN DEFENSE OF GOOD WOMEN

 

When Pamela Grath invited me to review a novel by a local Michigan author, I knew the book would be good. But, as it turns out, In Defense of Good Women, by Marilyn Zimmerman, is remarkably good. In fact, once I started reading this compelling, suspenseful story, I couldn’t put it down. 

 

In Defense of Good Women is a legal thriller that tackles the controversial topic of neonaticide, the killing of an infant within its first twenty-four hours. This fascinating book features strong, complex female characters and an evocative portrait of a coastal town in southeastern Michigan.

 

The lead character, Victoria Stephens, is a smart, accomplished criminal attorney with a twenty-year career. In the small town of Port Huron, she projects a perfect image of success with her Chanel sunglasses, designer shoes, and new Mercedes. At the insistence of a chief circuit judge she has known for years, Victoria reluctantly takes on a seemingly impossible case. 

 

The client, seventeen-year-old Callie Thomas, has been charged with murdering her newborn infant. The baby was drowned in the St. Clair River, hours after being born. Callie insists she is innocent. She does not remember giving birth or even being pregnant, though the DNA evidence is indisputable. Adding to the uproar, Callie is the daughter of a locally prominent Evangelical minister, known for his strident pro-life opinions.

 

As Victoria constructs a defense, she consults a psychologist with expertise on neonaticide syndrome, a kind of dissociation that occurs in women, particularly teenagers, who have been traumatized by their pregnancy. Closely related to temporary insanity, the syndrome is a controversial diagnosis that is not exactly abortion and not exactly infanticide. The woman wants to get rid of the baby after it’s born, and then she’ll block it from her mind, as if the baby never existed. The hypothesis would explain a lot about Callie’s behavior and frame of mind, though the expert admits that the defense may not work in U.S. courts.

 

The story has several unexpected twists that I won’t spoil. But I will say that Zimmerman is brave and even-handed in confronting tough issues related to pregnancy, motherhood, and the expectations that weigh on women facing difficult decisions. She also does a fantastic job of developing her lead characters. Callie is traumatized and reticent, but she’s also sensitive and artistic. And Victoria, even with her Jimmy Choo shoes and diamond wristwatch, is a complicated woman who carries wounds of her own. By its conclusion, the novel resolves the mystery of what happened to the baby and to Callie. But there is a deliberate raggedness to the ending that is startling and thought-provoking.

 

The book effectively captures the ambience of small-town Michigan. The media turmoil, the rumors and judgments, and the intertwining lives are all recognizable and believable. Especially captivating are the descriptions of the cozy cottage Victoria inherited from her father. Constructed by bootleggers during Prohibition on the St. Clair River, the home conjures memories of her parents and has become her sanctuary. 

 

Like most great books, In Defense of Good Women works on several levels. With its crisp pacing, compelling characters, and suspenseful plot, the book would make fabulous beach reading. On a deeper level, it would also be a wonderful choice for a book club seeking meaningful discussion around women’s reproductive health and the right to choose.

 

Thank you, Pamela, for sharing this book—and for all you do to inspire community and introspection in beautiful Northport. And thank you, Marilyn Zimmerman, for writing such an intelligent, entertaining, and timely book. I hope you’re already at work on your next manuscript!

Postscript from your usual blogger: First, thanks to Kristen Rabe for being an excellent guest reviewer! Second, we will be hosting a launch in June for Marilyn’s book—details to be announced when plans are firm.

In My Little Corner of the World

  

She was a glamorous librarian, whose image lends panache to an often undervalued profession, an astute collector who shaped an internationally renowned library of rare written and artistic treasures from around the world. 

-      Heidi Ardizzone, An Illuminated Life: Belle da Costa Greene’s Journey from Prejudice to Privilege (2007)

 

This is the second book about the life of Belle Greene that I have read since the beginning of the year. The first was a novel, The Personal Librarian (2021), by Marie Benedict & Victoria Christopher Murray, a fictionalized account of the famous librarian’s life and career. Both books spent considerable time dwelling on Greene’s racial heritage, her lengthy, on-again-off-again affair with Bernard Berenson, and her many other flirtations and possible affairs. I turned to the biography after the novel in hopes of learning more about the bookish aspects of Belle’s life.

 

She worked in the Princeton library and pursued “informal studies of rare books and illuminated manuscripts,” as well as taking a few classes there and elsewhere along the way, and then Greene, who acquired no degree and had no academic standing, was hired as J. Pierpont’s “personal librarian” at the age of 26 and remained with the library through the death of its founder and on throughout the life and death of the founder’s son, retiring only shortly before her own death that same year (1950). What I wanted to know was more about how she acquired and built on her knowledge of rare books and manuscripts, and while much of that remains a matter of mystery and speculation, I found hints in Ardizzone’s biography, most tellingly perhaps this one: In April of 1949, when the Morgan Library mounted an exhibit in her honor, Lawrence Wroth (historian, author, and John Carter Brown librarian at Brown University) gave a speech in which he “likened her ability to recognize quality to the gift of perfect pitch in a musician, and noted that her ‘inherent taste’ had been molded ‘through years of association with great men, great books, and great productions of artist and craftsman’” [quoted in Ardizzone, 2007].

 

Certainly Greene took advantage of every opportunity to learn from those with whom she came in contact—scholars, collectors, and dealers—but I believe, from what I have read, that her “inherent taste” and natural “ability to recognize quality” formed the basis on which all subsequent learning was built. Knowledge can be passed from one person to another, insatiable curiosity can reap much from books and experience, but what the Artist and I called “the eye” seems to be much more a matter of natural gift. Some people never develop “the eye” (or, in music, “the ear”), despite years of study.

 

Benedict and Murray’s novel was my first encounter with Belle da Costa Greene, but once on my radar she started to turn up again and again. Shortly after the novel, I read Timothy Egan’s Short Nights of the Shadow Catcher: The Epic Life and Immortal Photographs of Edward Curtis, and there again was Belle da Costa Greene, receiving letters from Curtis asking for her intercession with his patron, J.P. Morgan, so that now I can hardly look at one of Curtis’s magnificent portraits without thinking of Greene and Morgan and how Curtis was so determined to publish his 20-volume great work that he agreed to take no salary for himself but only use Morgan’s money for expenses. Belle Greene did not always reply to his letters; Curtis must have seemed very much the uncivilized frontiersman in sophisticated New York.

 

How fascinating it is to assemble even a few pieces of the enormous jigsaw puzzle of the turn of the 19^th century to the 20^th, and to learn something of how great names of the past weathered earlier wars and economic crises in our country! Greene was far from destitute, thanks to her position at the Morgan Library, but the stock market crash of 1929 pretty wiped out what she had been saving for her retirement. As it turned out, however, retirement played almost no part whatsoever in her life. 

 

Then, reading the acknowledgements at the end of Ardizzone’s book, I came upon this surprise: 

 

…Conrad Rader wisely refused all offers to become my full-time unpaid personal assistant, but he kept the cats out of the office and the dishes washed, dragged me out to Warren Dunes at least once a week, and provided a calm center in my life. For that and so much more, I dedicate this book to him. 

 

Warren Dunes? Sure enough, I see now on the jacket, the author (who teaches at Notre Dame) lives in Niles, Michigan. She is a Michigan author!

As for the rest of my recent reading, I binged through seven books of a detective series (it was not the complete series), books about The Sanibel Sunset Detective, by Ron Base, given to me by a friend, and then I boxed them up to send to my baby sister, who is recovering from a broken leg. She will pass them on to our other sister, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they are back in Northport sometime this summer. The stories are action-packed but also include more than a few laughs. True escape reading!

And now it’s back to Robert Reich’s Aftershock; Yvonne Sherratt’s Hitler’s Philosophers; etc. The serious stuff.

 

Dog and Yard Notes

Difficult to get much in the way of decent photographs at the dog park, even with a phone, but Sunny and I managed to get there to see friends both Sunday and Monday of the last two weeks. Rapidly disappearing snow in our yard makes tennis ball play and Frisbee a lot easier at home; however, socializing is as important as exercise—for both of us.

In general, my yard is in great need of attention—raking, mostly, at this stage of the season—and yet it’s encouraging already to see bright green hellebore leaves, now that the snow covering them is gone. I absolutely love hellebore and thank my friend Susan every time I look at the ones she gave me. Stay posted for the lovely blooms. On the other hand, if you were looking for one of my inimitable political rants, see here and/or here. No need to wait for that stuff!