Posted on by rjonakait

First Sentences

“There is a perennial temptation to read the greatness of distinguished men backward into their youth; to imagine that, if one just knows where to look, their early lives will provide evidence that the fully formed person was there in microcosm all along.” Troy Senik, A Man of Iron: The Turbulent Life and Improbable Presidency of Grover Cleveland.

“Á filthy boy stood on the doorstep.” Zadie Smith, The Fraud.

“If you were searching for world-famous deep-sea monsters, a stately building at the top of a hill in Upsala, Sweden, is not the first place you’d look.” Susan Casey, The Underworld: Journeys to the Depths of the Ocean.

“This early, the East River takes on a thin layer of translucence, a bright steely skin that appears to float over the river itself as the water turns from its nocturnal black to the opaque deep green of the approaching day.” Michael Cunninghan, Day.

“A young woman sprinted ahead of the fleeing soldiers on the forest path, her long red hair streaming on the wind as if it were a banner urging them onward to escape their own destruction.” Peter Stark, Gallop Toward the Sun: Tecumseh and William Henry Harrison’s Struggle for the Destiny of a Nation.

“Needless to say, when Julia Prentice began to cast her huge, hazy eyes in the direction of my husband, I should have snapped to immediate attention. But at the moment I was too distracted thinking about her breasts.” Lindsay Maracotta, The Dead Hollywood Moms Society.

“European Wars would bookend Rudolf Diesel’s life.” Douglas Brunt, The Mysterious Case of Rudolf Diesel: Genuis, Power, and Deception on the Eve of World War I.

“The night I watch Athena Liu die, we’re celebrating her TV deal with Netflix.” R.F. Kung, Yellowface.

“‘Please throw down the box.’” John Boessenecker, Gentleman Bandit: The True Story of Black Bart, the Old West’s Most Infamous Stagecoach Robber.

“Possum Creek trickles out of a swampy waste a little south of Raleigh.” Margaret Maron, Bootlegger’s Daughter: A Deborah Knott Mystery.

“Jim Wedick yanked at his collar as he walked across the parking lot toward the Thunderbird Motel, a sprawling Native American-themed lodge in suburban Minneapolis.” David Howard, Chasing Phil: The Adventures of Two Undercover Agents with the World’s Most Charming Con Man.

“In the drowsy heat of the summer afternoon the Red House was taking its siesta.” A.A. Milne, The Red House Mystery,

“Since first setting foot on the Te-Chag-U ranch, Gil Bonifácio Carvalho Neto had felt a growing sense of dread—but it was only after uncovering a hidden clearing in the jungle that he began to truly fear for his life.” Heriberto Araujo, Masters of the Lost Land: The Untold Story of the Amazon and the Violent Fight for the World’s Last Frontier.

Posted on by rjonakait · 2 Comments

Snippets

I get e-books from the New York Public Library. If the book is not immediately available, it is reserved and I get a message indicating, not very accurately, what the wait will be. Right now I have a reservation for A Man of Iron: The Turbulent Life and Improbable Presidency of Grover Cleveland by Troy Senit. The library notice tells me that the biography will be “available for checkout in less that 23 days.” From my grade school grammar, I was taught that less is wrong here and should be replaced with fewer. But this comes from the New York Public Library. Surely they know better than I (not me.) Do I not remember my grammar, or has it changed? I was struck by this question when I heard an NFL ad that was a warning about betting. It said that about 25% of pro football games are decided “by three points or fewer.”

A wise observer said, “I feel that progress is being made when people agree with my ideas.”

I just finished reading The Red House Mystery. It was written by A.A. Milne. Yes, that A.A. Milne. (Is there another?) And yes, it is a mystery. Who knew?

I was in the hardware store buying a mousetrap because even though the neighborhood has become more upscale, every so often the little furry creatures get in the house. As the store clerk put my purchase in a bag, he told me to bait the trap with peanut butter. I replied that sometimes I use chocolate peanut butter. He exclaimed, “No, no, no! For Fort Greene mice you now have to use organic peanut butter.”

Another sage observation: “We like to have people come right out and say what they think, when they agree with us.”

You attend a classical concert. You know that an acquaintance has also gone to that performance, but you don’t see each other exiting. It is always interesting to see the reaction of that person when you meet again by saying, “What? You stayed for the Debussy after that Mahler?”

What is Beethoven doing now? Decomposing.

Although the spouse and I had partaken of a few finger foods at the reception after the dance performance, we were still hungry. We walked into an Italian restaurant around the corner from the Mark Morris Dance Center, but it was too noisy for our liking. We passed a Mexican place and entered a Haitian restaurant—I think its name is the same as its address, 33 Lafayette—and were quickly seated by a gracious host. We later learned that he was a co-owner. I thought that a couple of appetizers would suffice and ordered coconut shrimp, which were divine, and smoked herring in plantain cups. I associate herring with northern climes, and the menu said that the fish were from Canada. I told the host that I was surprised to find a Haitian restaurant offering herring. He replied that Haitians regularly eat herring and have it even with spaghetti and pizza. He said it might have entered Haiti’s cuisine when Haiti opened its doors to European Jews before World War II. Who knew? But I later learned that you can find many Haitian herring recipes online. I don’t plan to try them.