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I've recently joined a FaceBook group of 48 authors of distinguished, award-winning, and best-selling fiction. (Yes, I'm proud to be included.)
Because of the crisis in book publishing, we've banded together to urge readers to give a book to someone this holiday season.
Our motto: You can't give more enchantment for less.
Indeed! Consider these:
Dracula in Love by Karen Essex. "...the writing is so vivid, lusciously sexy and chillingly outrageous by turns..." - The Star Ledger http://tinyurl.com/2eyohd4
The Last Will of Moira Leahy by Therese Walsh. "This tender tale of sisterhood, self-discovery, and forgiveness will captivate fans of contemporary women’s fiction.”- Library Journal http://theresewalsh.com/books.html
The Murderer's Daughters by Randy Susan Meyers. "A powerful portrait of sisters growing up in the shadow of violence . . . A thought-provoking, heart-tugging debut." Boston Magazine http://tinyurl.com/264efbn
Every day we'll be posting three book suggestions. I'll sometimes be posting them here, sometimes in other forums.
Usually Santa gives each of our children a hardcover book for Christmas (nice guy, eh?), but this year our son has converted to Kindle. What to do? I've discovered Santa can give him a Kindle book as a gift (and it will be good on his iPad, too, through the free Kindle app).
Buy a book! Now!
*****
Website: http://www.sandragulland.com/
Blog: http://sandragulland.blogspot.com/
Facebook: http://bit.ly/sgullandFacebook
Twitter: http://twitter.com/Sandra_Gulland
Tumblr: http://sandragulland.tumblr.com/
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Monday, December 13, 2010
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Good-bye Bunker
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Today is my last day in my northern office—affectionately called The Bunker. I love the office I'll be moving to in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, but my Bunker in rural Ontario, overlooking fields and a maple forest, is my favourite writing space, and it's always hard to leave. Not only is it lovely and cosy and quiet, but this is where my books are, this is the core of my research library.
Your home is where your books are, someone said, and I believe that to be true.
Books everywhere!
Right now, the desk in the photo is covered with stacks of books: books to be considered, books without a place on my shelves. (Another problem, that!) Which books should I take with me? What research books am I going to need in the six months ahead? This is not a question that can be answered easily ... at least not by me.
With so little time left, I'll aim to simply tidy today, leaving post-it notes on all the various piles.
I can't take my bulletin board, alas
On the wall in front of the desk I have a framed print, a bulletin board and a Edward Gorey calendar. The bulletin board has inspiring images and quotes on it: "Want • Obstacle • Action," for example.
Images of creativity
Two of the images on the bulletin board are especially dear to me. One, of men carving up blocks of stone, is evocative of the heavy lifting of the revision process.
The other image is one I haven't been able to identify. (If you can identify it, I'd be eternally grateful!) It's of two people, possibly a man and a woman, floating on a platform on a lake, half-emmersed in water. This image captures, for me, the feeling of the creative process, of immersion in unconscious.
The two images—one evocative of the unconscious, the other of the conscious, I think—work together in any act of creation.
Should I take my Edward Gorey calendar? I've loved it so! No: I'll fast-forward through November and December, and in the Spring, on return, I'll put it in my keeper box. Ironically, I just peeked at the caption for November:
Floating image: unknown to me. If you know, please write.
Sandra Gulland
*****
Website: http://www.sandragulland.com/
Blog: http://sandragulland.blogspot.com/
Facebook: http://bit.ly/sgullandFacebook
Twitter: http://twitter.com/Sandra_Gulland
Tumblr: http://sandragulland.tumblr.com/
Today is my last day in my northern office—affectionately called The Bunker. I love the office I'll be moving to in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, but my Bunker in rural Ontario, overlooking fields and a maple forest, is my favourite writing space, and it's always hard to leave. Not only is it lovely and cosy and quiet, but this is where my books are, this is the core of my research library.
Your home is where your books are, someone said, and I believe that to be true.
Right now, the desk in the photo is covered with stacks of books: books to be considered, books without a place on my shelves. (Another problem, that!) Which books should I take with me? What research books am I going to need in the six months ahead? This is not a question that can be answered easily ... at least not by me.
With so little time left, I'll aim to simply tidy today, leaving post-it notes on all the various piles.
I can't take my bulletin board, alas
On the wall in front of the desk I have a framed print, a bulletin board and a Edward Gorey calendar. The bulletin board has inspiring images and quotes on it: "Want • Obstacle • Action," for example.
Images of creativity
Two of the images on the bulletin board are especially dear to me. One, of men carving up blocks of stone, is evocative of the heavy lifting of the revision process.
The other image is one I haven't been able to identify. (If you can identify it, I'd be eternally grateful!) It's of two people, possibly a man and a woman, floating on a platform on a lake, half-emmersed in water. This image captures, for me, the feeling of the creative process, of immersion in unconscious.
The two images—one evocative of the unconscious, the other of the conscious, I think—work together in any act of creation.
Should I take my Edward Gorey calendar? I've loved it so! No: I'll fast-forward through November and December, and in the Spring, on return, I'll put it in my keeper box. Ironically, I just peeked at the caption for November:
It would carry off objects of which it grew fond,
And protect them by dropping them into the pond.Construction image: Granite for monuments (for future monuments), 1939. Lithograph by Louis Lozowick.
Floating image: unknown to me. If you know, please write.
Sandra Gulland
*****
Website: http://www.sandragulland.com/
Blog: http://sandragulland.blogspot.com/
Facebook: http://bit.ly/sgullandFacebook
Twitter: http://twitter.com/Sandra_Gulland
Tumblr: http://sandragulland.tumblr.com/
Monday, May 5, 2008
Collecting books, collecting book lists
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.
After my mother died, it was poignant and sad to look through the scraps of paper she kept in a drawer by her reading chair — notes of titles of interest, books to get. The writing becomes more frail with time, and in the last years of her life, she was unable to read at all.
Coming back to our home in Canada after being away all winter, I am struck by all my books — my wonderful research library, my To Be Read stack, nicely awaiting me by the bed — as well as by all my lists of books. Granted, much of this has to do with building a bibliography, seeking out all the possible titles available on whatever subject I'm writing about — but in truth, I recognize that I'm a collector of titles of books to read as well as of books. There are not enough hours remaining in my life to do justice to even a small fraction of them (I'd better begin a short list), but that doesn't seem to matter.
And all this to say: I read an article on Readerville Journal this morning which lists novels about travels into Mexico. I want to note it somehow, but I resist the urge to print it out — and so: here it is.
.
After my mother died, it was poignant and sad to look through the scraps of paper she kept in a drawer by her reading chair — notes of titles of interest, books to get. The writing becomes more frail with time, and in the last years of her life, she was unable to read at all.
Coming back to our home in Canada after being away all winter, I am struck by all my books — my wonderful research library, my To Be Read stack, nicely awaiting me by the bed — as well as by all my lists of books. Granted, much of this has to do with building a bibliography, seeking out all the possible titles available on whatever subject I'm writing about — but in truth, I recognize that I'm a collector of titles of books to read as well as of books. There are not enough hours remaining in my life to do justice to even a small fraction of them (I'd better begin a short list), but that doesn't seem to matter.
And all this to say: I read an article on Readerville Journal this morning which lists novels about travels into Mexico. I want to note it somehow, but I resist the urge to print it out — and so: here it is.
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