A terrifyingly good book, ‘It’ leaves a lasting impression

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My very well-worn copy of “It.”

The summer I was 16, I read “It” by Stephen King twice in a row despite the fact that it’s terrifying. It’s also terrifyingly good.

(By the way, the only book I’ve ever found to be scarier is the excellent “Helter Skelter.” I couldn’t even read that one indoors and certainly not at night. I still get freaked out just looking at it.)

Now, Stephen King and horror are not usually on my to-read list. However, I beg of you to please read the 1986 book before you see the upcoming movie. The trailer, which is floating around the internet like so many of Pennywise’s balloons, captures all the unease and creepiness and terror I remember. Just watching the trailer scares me, but I’m already planning to see the movie, which stars Bill Skarsgård as Pennywise.

In perusing the book now — many, many years later — it is clear that King is a master at setting a scene, at crafting a sense of dread and impending doom, at the quick scare. He’s not particularly gory. He’s incredibly wordy. He also intuits the fears that hide in the recesses of our minds. The bogeyman, dark basements, cellars, shadowy figures, the sinister underpinnings of small towns. And with Pennywise and John Wayne Gacy, I think clowns will always be a fear.

Interestingly enough, this came to my attention: 200 Superb Books Everyone Should Read at Least Once: http://bit.ly/2pwnuSF

The list put together by the BBC is unusual in that it features not only classics (Dickens, Austen, Hemingway), but children’s books and more modern novels. It is a tad heavy on British authors. (An aside: Just who is Jacqueline Wilson, who has multiple mentions on the list?)

But guess what also makes the list? “It” by Stephen King.

According to Wikipedia,  ” ‘It’ deals with themes that eventually became King staples: the power of memory, childhood trauma and its recurrent echoes in adulthood, the ugliness lurking behind a façade of small-town quaintness, and overcoming evil through mutual trust and sacrifice. Publishers Weekly listed ‘It as the best-selling book in the United States in 1986.”

“It” also topped the New York Times Fiction Best Sellers list for 12 weeks in 1986 and another two heading into 1987. The novel has high ratings on goodreads.com, too.

So I urge you to not just take my word for it, but please, please read the novel before you see the movie. It’s long (more than 1,000 pages), but it’s critically acclaimed and stands the test of time. And you’ll never look at storm drains the same way again.

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The weight of expectations

Expectations are powerful. They can inspire, propel, intimidate, crush. In these books, they play a key role in the trajectory of characters’ lives.

These three books are among my all-time favorites. Their common theme is one that weighs heavily on me as I’ve always worried I won’t live up to expectations, especially my own.

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The unforgettable “Everything I Never Told You” by Celeste Ng is a staggeringly poignant story of expectations on children. In this case, it leads to tragedy, but that’s no spoiler because within the first sentence we know the teenage Lydia is dead. The novel is much like the stories of Jhumpa Lahiri (whose books I would highly recommend, especially “The Namesake” and “Unaccustomed Earth”) that involve immigrant experiences and the pressures children face to do more, be more and prove more. Ng’s book focuses on Marilyn and James Lee’s dreams — dashed by parenthood, racism and thwarted attempts at happiness — that end up being inherited by their favorite child. Lydia hopes that by relentlessly trying to be all her parents hope for that she can maintain the tenuous happiness and delicate balance in her family structure.

Assumptions chip away at relationships. Just how well do the Lees know their children? How well do Lydia and her siblings really know each other? How well does Lydia know Jack, the object of her affection?

Lydia struggles under the burden of being a disappointment. But just as she resolves to be her own best self, to stand up for who she is, free from the goals others have placed upon her and the sacrifices she puts upon herself, tragedy strikes.

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In “The Art of Fielding” by Chad Harbach, Mike Schwartz sees a bright future for his college baseball team when he’s able to help recruit fielding phenom Henry Skrimshander. He takes Henry under his wing and puts his own best interests aside. When Henry’s confidence tanks, Schwartzy realizes he has sacrificed his future for Henry’s and the team’s. And the expectations the team and college place on Henry may not match his own. Several characters have to figure out how to live their lives on their own terms.

Edith Wharton skewers the pettiness and cruelty of 19th-Century New York high society (of which she was a member) in “The House of Mirth.” Lily Bart is a once-wealthy beauty whose currency, both literally and figuratively, is in decline. She expects to inherit from an aunt, but also knows she must marry to secure her future. The fly in the ointment is that she wants it all — money, love and a place in society — on her own terms. Missteps, delays, misinterpretations, malevolent maneuverings by supposed friends and desperate attempts to maintain her status keep her from her happy ending.

“… she had a fatalistic sense of being drawn from one wrong turning to another, without perceiving the right one to take until it was too late.”

Wharton paints Lily as a sympathetic character, one burdened by the circumstances of her birth and a victim of her own choices. In hesitation, a fate is determined.

“That’s Lily all over, you know: she works like a slave preparing the ground and sowing her seed; but the day she ought to be reaping the harvest she oversleeps herself or goes off on a picnic.”

It’s a beautiful novel, full of emotion and a chilliness within the opulent, manner-driven confines of a bygone society.

Lyndsay Faye belongs on your bookshelf

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Lyndsay Faye deserves your attention.

While she has achieved critical acclaim, I don’t know anyone besides me who has had the enormous pleasure of reading her books. Faye immerses herself in her fictional worlds and the reader soon gets caught up in them, too.

“Dust and Shadow: An Account of the Ripper Killings by Dr. John H. Watson” imagines the intrepid and beloved sleuth Sherlock Holmes trying to solve the gruesome Jack the Ripper slayings in Victorian London. Her descriptions of the sordid alleyways and cobbled streets of 1888 are atmospheric. Her rendering of historical details (and facts of the Ripper slayings) makes the story all the more compelling. She’s a huge fan of Sherlock Holmes and it shows. (She has a new book out that I haven’t read, “The Whole Art of Detection: Lost Mysteries of Sherlock Holmes.”)

Oh, how I love Timothy Wilde, the ex-bartender turned kindhearted fledgling copper star (police officer) who struggles to escape poverty amid various tragedies in Faye’s trilogy that begins with “Gods of Gotham.”  Tim has a love-hate relationship with his drug-addled yet heroic firefighter brother. Valentine Wilde, who is also in the political arena, plays both sides of the law, often with good intentions. Faye delves deep into the New York of 1845, a city teeming with immigrants and racism and crime and misfortune. The police department is in its infancy. There are interesting (and dark) mysteries to solve in the trilogy, a beautiful but fated romance, Tammany Hall political machinations and an impressive use of flash, the slang of the criminal world. Indeed, Faye adds a dictionary of sorts so readers can decipher what characters are saying. It’s a wonderful detail. For example, a stargazer is a prostitute. A dead rabbit is an athletic, rowdy fellow. If you’re swag-rum, you’re wealthy. A cranky-hutch is an insane asylum. It’s funny and clever.

If you read the trilogy, go in order, starting with “Gods of Gotham.” Then move along to “Seven for a Secret” and “The Fatal Flame.” I was so sad when the series ended. I still want to know what happened next in the lives of the characters to whom I grew attached.

In “Jane Steele,” a thoroughly entertaining retelling of “Jane Eyre,” our murderous heroine seeks love and her place in the world. You’ll fall in love with Jane as she bests those who do her and the ones she loves wrong. You will be rooting for her to have a happy ending.

Faye has a laser focus on the little things. She gets the historical nuances right. She’s a creative writer whose characters are memorable — none of them is perfect. They are flawed and appealing and beautifully imagined. She deserves a wider readership.

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Oh, the Toll House Cookie

 

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Why is it that of all the cookies I’ve made, my boys love the recipe on the back of the bag of Toll House Semi-sweet Morsels the best?

There is nothing wrong with Toll House Cookies. Quite frankly, the extra salt makes the dough pretty tasty. The recipe is very reliable and easily adapts to substitutions on the add-ins.

Interestingly, the Toll House Cookie was an experiment by Ruth Wakefield, who decided in 1938 to chop up a bit of chocolate bar and add it to a butter drop cookie after she discovered she was out of baker’s chocolate. The Massachusetts innkeeper had a hit on her hands. The cookie grew in popularity after a Boston newspaper reprinted the recipe. In 1939, the folks at Nestle got her permission to promote her recipe on chocolate bar packaging and then on bags of chocolate chips. What did Wakefield get in exchange? A lifetime supply of Nestle chocolate and $1.

I love reading cookbooks and baking blogs and trying new things. I just don’t want to eat batches of goodies all by myself. I love baking dozens upon dozens to give away for Christmas, too. From the feedback I’ve gotten from friends, family and colleagues, they think the cookies are delicious. But, for some reason, my family just isn’t as thrilled. They want the tried and true.

I have attempted to sway them with all varieties of cookies, but somehow that simple recipe is the one they look forward to. Well, that one and Peanut Butter Blossoms, which are one of the few cookies I don’t like and the only variety that doesn’t last a day in our house.

Sure, they like frosted sugar cookies and my youngest gets excited for spiced molasses, a specialty for the holidays, but if I had a dollar for every batch of cookies that languished in its Rubbermaid container …

Even more unbelievably, my husband prefers cookies that have been around awhile. I will only eat them within the first two days or so.  And to top it off, he actually prefers cookies without a lot of chocolate or stuff in them.

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So instead of trying a new recipe today, I got out the trusty Toll House chocolate chips and flipped the bag over. I usually make them as bars (after enjoying a good scoop or two or three of dough) and underbake by a couple minutes. Sometimes I will substitute a different kind of chip or M&M’s. But what kind do the boys prefer? The original.

In my next life (or maybe today)

 

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In my next life, or maybe sooner, I’d love to follow the example of Jen on a Jet Plane. Jen Ruiz is a full-time lawyer in Florida who makes it a priority to travel the world, usually at discounted prices and usually alone. True, she doesn’t have a family to tie her down (Doesn’t that sound negative? It’s not. The responsibilities involved with a family make it the truth!) and she’s young so it probably seems like she has all the time in the world.

On her website, she says not to wait around for the right time, the right partner, the right price. This is a philosophy I need to adopt: To live life in the moment. Always waiting for the right time has led me to put off what I’d love to be doing.

The truth is the clock’s ticking and none of us knows how much more time we have left. Waiting for retirement is not a sure bet. Jen on a Jet Plane budgets, hunts down deals and isn’t afraid to venture off alone. I need to be more forthright and persistent in doing what I want to do. If travel is important to me, I should make time for it. It’s as simple as that.

This isn’t original. Thomas Jefferson wisely said centuries ago: Never put off till tomorrow what you can do today.

One of the best experiences of my life was traveling to Europe as a college student in 1991. Shout-out to one of the best traveling partners around, Shefali!

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If I were to go now, I would pack better (for heaven’s sake, check out what I used as a backpack!), eat more adventurously and take copious (and better) photos. I would explore more. I would immerse myself in the people and the cultures and pay attention to the details. For example, I went to the Colosseum in Rome, but I didn’t take a tour or learn much about it. Traveling as a student, I was always short on funds and we were trying to pack in as many sites as we could.

In most areas of my life, I need to see the possibilities, not the obstacles. If not now, when. After all, as Charles Dickens said: “Procrastination is the thief of time” and we only get so much of it.

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Cowgirl Cookies

 

IMG_2298You can have your crispy cookies. Your good-to-dip-in-coffee cookies. Your plain and simple. I want cookies chock-full of the good stuff: chocolate, peanut butter, candy bars. I like my ice cream the same way. Don’t give me a Blizzard that’s more ice cream than stuff.

Shelly Jaronsky of the Cookies & Cups blog has a winner with Cowgirl Cookies. These babies feature mini M&M’s, coconut, oatmeal, chocolate chips  and other goodies. Shelly uses raisins, but I always substitute butterscotch or peanut butter chips or more chocolate or white chocolate chips. (And please don’t buy store-brand chips.)

I prefer to underbake. Know your oven, certainly, but I would start at baking for 10 or 11 minutes. As I mentioned, I prefer soft and chewy. And, oh my goodness, the dough! I would easily pass on any cookie as long as I got to eat the cookie dough.

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These freeze beautifully and are delicious extra cold. Give them a try! I’d love to know what you think. And if you haven’t checked out the Cookies & Cups Cookbook, it’s packed with great recipes, especially if you believe in leaving room for dessert.

Author: Cookies & Cups
Serves: 36 large cookies
INGREDIENTS
  • 1½ cups unsalted butter (3 sticks)
  • 2 cups light brown sugar
  • 1 cup granulated sugar
  • 3 eggs
  • 1 tablespoon vanilla
  • 2 teaspoons baking soda
  • 2 teaspoons coarse sea salt
  • 3 cups flour
  • 3 cups old-fashioned oats
  • 2 cups shredded sweetened coconut
  • 1 cup semisweet chocolate chips
  • 1 cup white chips
  • 1 cup mini M&M’s
  • 1 cup butterscotch chips or peanut butter chips
INSTRUCTIONS
  1. Preheat oven to 350°F. Line your baking sheet with parchment paper and set aside.
  2. In the bowl of your stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, mix the butter and both sugars together on medium speed for 2 minutes, scraping the sides of the bowl as necessary.
  3. Add in eggs and vanilla and mix until combined, about 1 minute.
  4. Turn the mixer to low and add in the baking soda, salt and flour until incorporated.
  5. Next add oats and coconut slowly.
  6. Finally mix in the chocolate chips, white chips, M&M’s and butterscotch or peanut butter chips until evenly combined. The batter will be thick.
  7. Using a large cookie scoop (3 tablespoons) drop the dough onto the prepared baking sheet.
  8. Bake for 13-15 minutes until the edges are lightly golden and tops are just set. I always go a few minutes shorter.
  9. Allow the cookies to cool on the baking sheet for 3 minutes and then transfer them to a wire rack rack to cool completely.
NOTES
Store airtight for up to 5 days
Recipe slightly adapted from Cookies & Cups

Enlightenment on the Tube

The London Underground provided unexpected inspiration.

In 1991, when I was 20, I spent 6 weeks in London on a study abroad trip and another couple weeks taking a Eurail train throughout Europe. As an angsty, small-town girl, everything I saw expanded my world. As I wandered through streets where history beckoned at almost every door and an eclectic mix of residents and tourists strolled the streets, packed the stairs of the London Underground (the Tube) and otherwise went about their day, I felt I was part of something bigger. Winding through backroads on a rickety bus during day trips, listening to the Cure on my Walkman, taking in the pastoral beauty, every moment was one to discover. There were possibilities. London is a metropolis that pulsates with energy and vibrancy, but is also full of smaller, quieter moments that hum beneath the noise.

I loved the Tube. I had never been on anything like it. “Mind the gap” still makes me smile. The world underground was a respite from the noise and heat and smog and smells. It was a journey to somewhere, anywhere new.

One of the things I love about the British, besides their accent and history and the royal family, is their literature. More specifically, their appreciation of it. I soon discovered on the Tube that summer that travelers were treated to poetry posted within the rectangles normally used for advertisements. The Poetry Society’s program Poems on the Underground was started in 1986 to bring poetry to a wider audience. What a British concept (at least in my mind)! I found it so beautiful and un-American to feature poetry prominently where people of every class and ethnicity who rode public transportation could be inspired.

These poems has stayed with me for decades. In reading them, I felt as if the poet was speaking to me. I felt understood.

“The Embankment (The fantasia of a fallen gentleman on a cold, bitter night)” by T.E. Hulme

“Once, in finesse of fiddles found I ecstasy

In a flash of gold heels on the hard pavement.

Now see I

That warmth’s the very stuff of poesy.

Oh, God, make small the old star-eaten blanket of the sky,

That I may fold it round me and in comfort lie.”

Keep in mind my favorite English word at the time was melancholia and my favorite French word was malheureusement (unfortunately).

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Another that captured what it meant to be in a traveler, whose glimpses of pasture and lake and ancient architecture may be fleeting, was this one by A. E. Housman.

“Into my heart an air that kills

From yon far country blows.

What are those blue remembered hills,

What spires, what barns are those?

That is the land of lost content,

I see it shining plain,

The happy highways where I went

And cannot come again.”