May 9: "Valley of the Dolls," Final Grades, Ann Patchett

Billy asked for something to read on the trip to Tralfamadore.  His captors had five million Earthling books on microfilm, but no way to project them in Billy's cabin.  They had only one actual book in English which would be placed in a Tralfamadorian museum.  It was Valley of the Dolls, by Jacqueline Susann.

Billy read it, thought it was pretty good in spots.  The people in it certainly had their ups and downs, ups and downs.  But Billy didn't want to read about the same ups and downs over and over again.  He asked if there wasn't, please, some other reading matter around.

"Only Tralfamadorian novels, which I'm afraid you couldn't begin to understand," said the speaker on the wall.

"Let me look at one anyway."

So they sent him in several.  They were little things.  A dozen of them might have had the bulk of Valley of the Dolls--with all its ups and downs, ups and downs.

Billy Pilgrim craves stories on the long flight from Earth to Tralfamadore.  Unfortunately, all his hosts have is a copy of Valley of the Dolls, a highly popular but completely trashy novel by Jacqueline Susann that was published in 1966.  Since Dolls was first released, it has sold 31 million copies.  To put that into perspective, the first Harry Potter novel sold a relatively small 5 million copies in hardcover and 6.6 million in paperback during the first year of its release.

It's not surprising that Valley of the Dolls is going in the Earth exhibit in a Tralfamadorian museum.  Everyone was reading Susann's book when Slaughterhouse first came out.  Today, the Tralfamdorians might choose a copy of Fifty Shades of Gray for their museum's human collection.  It's all about popularity.  Certainly, J. K. Rowling and Stephen King might make the cut as well, simply by the sheer numbers of books they've sold.

It is the day after.  I finished evaluating my last stack of papers at 10:40 p.m., entered my final grades at 11:35 p.m., took some ibuprofen, and went to bed.  I am currently in the state of end-of-semester hangover.  My eyes are burning, and I am a little achy with sleep deprivation.  I plan to completely relax this evening.  Tomorrow, I dive into planning my summer class, which begins in two weeks.  Gulp.

Tonight, however, I take a break.  I have a copy of Ann Patchett's Commonwealth that I have been saving for this occasion.  It's not Valley of the Dolls, but it has gotten great reviews.  If I can stay awake, I plan on reading a few chapters before I pass out from exhaustion.  I do have a bottle of white wine in the fridge.  I may have a glass.  Or two.

Saint Marty is thankful for a night without a red pen in his hand.

May 27: Muscular Energy, Three-Day Weekend, Opera

There is a muscular energy in sunlight corresponding to the spiritual energy of wind.  On a sunny day, sun's energy on a square acre of land or pond can equal 4500 horsepower.  These " horses" heave in every direction, like slaves building pyramids, and fashion, from the bottom up, a new and sturdy world.

It is May, and Dillard is basking in sunlight.  Birds riot in the forest canopy.  Fauna and vegetation explode to life like popcorn.  Summer is coming to Tinker Creek, with all its potential energy.  As Dillard points out, in an acre of dirt or water, 4500 sun horsepower gallops.  The world is being rebuilt.

There wasn't a whole lot of sun today in my little square of the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.  Mostly, fog in the morning and a whole lot of gray in the afternoon.  Thunderstorms are forecasted for tonight.  Not a really auspicious beginning for a three-day holiday weekend.  (For my international readers, the last weekend of May celebrates Memorial Day, a time set aside to honor fallen war veterans.  Also, it's sort of the unofficial start of summer.)

That's okay, though.  I didn't have much opportunity for the outdoors, anyway.  It has been a long week.  I'm exhausted.  My whole plan for tonight involves a little PBS and a little reading and a little wine.  I was thinking about going to see a movie with my wife, but it seems that the only things Hollywood has to offer are superhero flicks.  Not my cup of tea.  Since I didn't like The Angry Birds Movie the first time, I have no intention of inflicting that on myself again.  Thus, Plan
B:  opera, a novel, and white wine.

That sounds like a perfect way to start the summer for Saint Marty.  (Saint Marty's wife may not be too excited about the opera.)