the Scott Stein

My grandmother, Flo Stein, died on Christmas day, and was buried yesterday, December 27, 2006, on her 95th birthday. It wasn't a shock, of course, given her age, and her failing health in recent months. My grandfather died about eight years ago. I thought it would be an appropriate tribute to my grandmother to post a poem I wrote back in 1996, inspired by her devotion to my grandfather and the tragedy that is dementia. I was taking a poetry workshop with John Balaban at the University of Miami and was visiting my grandparents frequently in Century Village in Deerfield Beach, Florida (my grandmother lived there; my grandfather was in a home by that point). I wasn't much interested in writing poetry, I discovered, and used the spatial form as an excuse to write a narrative. Maybe it technically counts as a poem. Others more qualified than I am can make that judgment. Anyway, my grandmother was an extraordinary woman and had her wits and memory and sense of humor — substantial attributes — until nearly the end, a full and fortunate life.

On some monitors, you might have to scroll down to see the image of the poem. Just keep going until the blue left sidebar ends.

Frank Wilson asks, What's your book of the year? I didn't do a careful job of tracking all of the books I read, but here's my answer:

For fiction, I did read Alexander Solzhenitsyn's One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich, but I don't list it as my favorite book of the year, though I don't question its excellence or its reputation. It's a remarkable document, but my favorites were books that challenged me, as a fiction writer, to think about possibilities in my own future work. Plus, they were just plain fun. So, for fiction, I have two favorites:

Code of the Woosters, by P.G. Wodehouse. Read about it here.

Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, by Susanna Clarke, which I wrote about here.

Honorable mention goes to The Horla, (sort of) a novella by Guy de Maupassant.

For nonfiction, I can't remember that many books I read this year. Before 2006, for the past several years, I'd been reading far more nonfiction than fiction. That changed in 2006, when I got on a fiction roll. Looking through my personal library, I see titles that I think I read recently but that I can't pin specifically to 2006. Anyway, here is my nonfiction selection:

Dresden, by Frederick Taylor, discussed here.

I can't remember if I read Thomas Sowell's A Conflict of Visions: Ideological Origins of Political Struggles in 2006 or earlier. If I did read it this year, it would be my top nonfiction choice.

That's it. I guess a New Year's resolution to keep better records in 2007 is called for. Plus, I should write more book notes. Great, like I needed more things to improve on for next year.

I'd be happy to hear what made your list.

Update: Obviously, the books I listed were not necessarily published in 2006 (none of them were). I have no interest in "What was the best book of the year?" I am only noting my books of the year, which means books I read in 2006.

I've been blogging even less than usual the past two weeks, and expect that to continue for maybe another few days leading into Christmas. At least this time I have an excuse. I had a bit of surgery on Wednesday, December 13.

It wasn't anything major--I had my deviated septum undeviated--but it was surgery and was the first time I've ever been under general anesthesia. I've had "conscious sedation" a few times before, but this was the first time for the real thing, in a hospital with the tube down my throat and all that. I wasn't particularly worried, though I wasn't looking forward to the discomfort that I was told might come after, if there was packing in my nose and I had to breathe through my mouth (it turned out that there was no packing, but I still couldn't breathe through my nose, and probably won't be able to well until I see the doctor on Thursday). I understood that it is a minor procedure, as these things go, and I knew of a few people who had the operation with no complications. But I also knew of one person--the first cousin of a good friend of ours, a man in his twenties--who never woke up, the sort of freak thing that makes people nervous about anesthesia. But you can't live your life worrying too much about freak things, and I had the surgery because I believed it would help in my ongoing epic battle with nasal allergy symptoms. It remains to be seen how much it helps. Anyway, I had no complications. Like I said, not a big deal, though my nose feels like it's going to explode at the moment.

For the record, I did not use the deviated septum as an excuse to get a nose job. As several of my Jewish friends and colleagues joked upon learning of my surgical plans, "It's a shame you don't have a real Jewish nose, since they're going to be working on it anyway." Alas, my nose is a stereotype-defying disgrace to my heritage and, though it is currently swollen, I am already about as handsome as a man can be.

I am dashing this off in a semi-lucid haze, before the painkillers send me back to sleep. While I ordinarily don't need an excuse not to post anything for a few days, now I have one, and I'm using it (though maybe I'll have something else shortly). While you're waiting for my return, you can visit Book Promotion, Next Level, and actually spend some time touring the sites mentioned there. Consider participating.

Or, "A good use of the police."

Or, "Now I feel safe."

Or, "One more example of why it's getting harder and harder to write satire."

Kid arrested for playing with Christmas present

Oh, but I have.

See here, and scroll down to see comments by Dr. Karen and Ed O'Connell here, and by Caseworker Alice Pitney here. And lots of other places. All of which is explained here.

I'll still be posting on the Scott Stein, of course, but I'm doing some flying under the radar these days. I'm a stealth bomber. Fellow bombers are invited to join in the fun here, here, here, and here.