Sneaky Burrito

Hiatus

2013-09-29T10:16:00.000-07:00

I've decided to focus on other things for awhile, so I'm not going to be posting here very frequently any longer. You'll still see me over at the HKAS and on Amazon and in the forums at BestFantasyBooks. But I've kind of lost focus when it comes to this blog, so I'm giving it a rest for now.

Some of Harriet Klausner's Favorite Words

2013-08-14T03:58:00.003-07:00

The following are counts of words from all Harriet's reviews associated with her current "reviewing" account on Amazon (as of August 8, 2013).

We have the ubiquitous fans and readers:

Fans: 13,163
Readers: 13,925

Sometimes they're motionless, though:

Still fans (no comma): 398
Still, fans: 41
Still readers (no comma): 153
Still, readers: 17

Sometimes other things are motionless, as well:

Still: 8,107

Except when they're "fast-paced" or "action-packed."

Fast-paced: 4,283
Action-packed: 1,875

A couple of other overused adjectives:

Entertaining: 3,380
Exciting: 4,091
Engaging: 2,170
Terrific: 3,891
Fantastic: 622

We have the occasional personal pronoun/reference:

I: 1,290
Me: 779
My: 700
This reviewer: 480

A humorous malapropism:

Opening gamut: 60

Werewolf (shifter) genetics:

Lycan: 130
Half-breed: 191
Hybrid: 244
Purebred: 170

Some favorite SUB-GENRES:

Sub-genre: 2,064
Amish: 305
Second chance: 1,004
Police procedural: 1,879
Thriller: 9,240
Heated romance: 38
Amateur sleuth: 1,954

Couple of F-bombs:

Fraud: 208
Fake: 264

A handful of terms essential to any literary critic (not):

Support cast: 1,483
Fully developed: 1,048
Character driven: 1,172
Grips the reader: 157
Grips the audience: 572
Rotating perspective(s): 77

Everybody's favorite condiment:

Relish: 1,937

A few more "Hattie Specials."

Over the top of: 407
Twist(ing): 2,261
BFF: 544
Tweener: 203
Tsuris: 82

A derogatory term for people with mental disabilities:

Retarded: 12

A fecal fixation:

Shit: 13
Sh*t: 34

And then THIS STUFF:

Lower head: 56
Third leg: 14
Penis: 53
Vagina: 15
Cunt: 3
Blow job: 3
XXX: 29

Fun with ARAT, Part One

2013-08-12T18:06:00.002-07:00

(ARAT stands for Amazon Reviewer Analysis Tool and can be downloaded here.)

As of August 8, 2013:

Harriet Klausner had posted 29,122 reviews.

Of the books reviewed, 408 were Amazon Verified Purchases.

104 were Vine books.

The average length was 245.8 words.

The most common word count (mode) is 275.

The shortest was 39 words.

http://www.amazon.com/review/R174DJP0L5SKRI

The longest was 604 words.

http://www.amazon.com/review/RMWHG6XRZD5E4

The most helpful had 11 of 1 helpful votes. That's 1100%!

http://www.amazon.com/review/R3GT17VWY21QS3

And the least helpful (not counting reviews with no votes) has 6 of
320 helpful votes. That's 1.9%.

http://www.amazon.com/review/RNJNRX1TA698C

Average helpful votes per review is 3.84.

Average unhelpful votes per review is 1.40.

The review with the most comments:

http://www.amazon.com/review/R324XQY4Q6U7Y1

39,646 comments have been posted.

21,094 reviews have no comments at all! (Let's get cracking, folks.)

The date with the most reviews posted is Halloween 2004 (that's the
infamous "140-review-dump" day).

1-star reviews: 0
2-star reviews: 3
3-star reviews: 81
4-star reviews: 10,356
5-star reviews: 18,682

Average star rating is 4.64.

Bummer

2013-08-11T07:48:00.003-07:00

Amazon to start collecting sales tax in Georgia on Sept. 1 from the Atlanta Journal-Constitution

I'm a Slacker

2013-08-10T17:56:00.001-07:00

This is like my worst week since I started blogging. I'm going to try to do better next week. Just not tonight. I drank some wine and am feeling a bit mentally foggy right now. And it's been a loooooong day.

Forgeries

2013-08-08T19:03:00.001-07:00

OK, I've gone two days without a post so I feel like I ought to put something up.

This is the first thing that popped up on StumbleUpon:

"Antique Smith" the Affable Forger from Textualities

It's rather long, but I actually did find it interesting enough to read all the way to the end.

Turns out Wikipedia has a whole category for famous literary forgeries. Here are some others from The Hoax Archive (including the Prester John letter that inspired Catherynne M. Valente's Dirge for Prester John books).

This is the sort of thing I could spend a lot of time with, just clicking links and seeing where they take me. Thus, the original found at Textualities got a StumbleUpon "thumbs up" from me (a rarity, these days).

Short Posts Are the Best

2013-08-05T19:34:00.002-07:00

You know what happens when you decide to cook something elaborate for dinner, you decide to start exercising again (my back was killing me for awhile), and your damned cat won't eat his food unless you're sitting right next to him?

Your blog posts get short. That's what happens.

I've been busy at work lately, so I can't write posts during the day. I was hoping to do some (manuscript) writing today but I didn't have time. Too much other stuff to do.

I apparently need a reminder that I should cook on Sunday afternoons so I don't run out of time on weeknights.

P.S. I love Mr. Kitty and am happy to sit with him while he eats. The fact is, he's eating and at a healthy weight and not barfing 8 months after his IBD diagnosis. My last IBD cat had to be euthanized 5 months after her diagnosis. I'll take what I can get. And now Mr. Kitty is looking for plastic to lick. That weirdo.

Blog Advice from Other People

2013-08-04T17:59:00.004-07:00

My latest StumbleUpon journeys have landed me on these two pages. They both contain some good advice. If you have a blog, you should read both:

Top 5 Must-Have Resolutions to Start Your Blog Right in 2013 (yeah, so I'm a little late)
5 Things That Make Me Stop Reading Websites & Blogs

GRRM on Writing Female Characters

2013-08-03T18:59:00.003-07:00

Click here to see more; I promise you it's short and to the point.

I may have more to say on this later but I am falling asleep in my chair right now.

Need a Kick in the Pants

2013-08-01T18:24:00.000-07:00

I've been procrastinating so much today. And yesterday. Yesterday I started downloading free apps from the Mac app store. Today I played with the Amazon Reviewer Analysis Tool (ARAT).

It was meant to help people analyze their own reviews, but I loaded Harriet Klausner's data into it. I played with it all afternoon (there was no work to do or of course I would've done work).

Anyway, it's already 9:30 (or thereabouts) and I am starting to get sleepy. So, no good blog post tonight and no writing. I am so shitty with the time management. I need to work on that. Just like I need to work on having paragraphs longer than 2 lines.

All right, time to take the dog out -- she is getting super obnoxious and needs some attention.

I Should Be Blogging

2013-07-31T17:34:00.002-07:00

But I keep getting distracted. Ammy's been pretty interesting lately. There's a new Hattie thread in TRF (I'm staying out of it, but I'm pleased to say some of the regular participants are familiar with my work).

Ah well, better luck tomorrow.

Wake-Up Call

2013-07-29T18:13:00.002-07:00

No, seriously, I need one.

I get home at night, and by the time I've worked out or done yoga or whatever my plans are for the evening, and then I cook dinner and clean up a bit, it's after 8PM.

Then I try to write. And I start writing utter nonsense. I was going along the other day, and started writing about African-Americans. (Or at least, apparently I was intending to. Because I used the phrase.) Which would be fine -- except that I am writing a manuscript for a fantasy novel. That takes place in a world that is not THIS world. Where there is no Africa and no America. So even if there are characters with dark skin who have similar appearances to actual African-Americans, they would not be CALLED African-Americans. (There are such characters. I tend to almost always write racially-diverse worlds. Don't plan it, it just happens.)

I am not precisely sure what brought that particular mental lapse on. I think perhaps I had been watching too much coverage of the George Zimmerman trial.

Tonight, I just got sleepy. I will probably find some nonsense about plastic or telescopes or petroleum reserves when I look at my work tomorrow.

I would really like to not have this problem. But I am just worn out at the end of the day. And I say to myself that I can't justify sitting down to write (or, God forbid, blog) until I have done everything else I need to do.

On the plus side, I did get a new chair at work today. A design specifically for women with lower back pain. Many adjustments possible (angle of the back, height, armrest height). Not a cushy lawyer chair like I used to have, but seems like it will be better for my sciatica. And that is really what matters -- avoiding excruciating pain.

Book Giveaway over at BFB

2013-07-28T14:46:00.002-07:00

The folks at BestFantasyBooks.com are doing a giveaway of Sea Change by S.M. Wheeler, which I reviewed a week or two ago. Click here for the details.

Here is my review of Sea Change (but don't read it if you don't like spoilers).

Ammy Stalker

2013-07-27T18:38:00.001-07:00

Got my first real weirdo on Amazon. Some of the comments can be found here. But the last one makes no sense:

"By the way, give Sneaky my regards. She has a lot of qualities."

WTF?

The Number One Way to Make Me Leave Your Website

2013-07-26T14:59:00.000-07:00

Has got to be a freaking pop-up asking me to sign up for your goddamned newsletter. I don't want to and I won't, and no matter how much I wanted to see your article, once I see that pop-up, it's GOODBYE.

(The number two way is to have in-line text ads that interfere with reading the post.)

That is all.

Back to Writing

2013-07-25T18:40:00.002-07:00

So the writing of this manuscript (totally different from and unrelated to the other three manuscripts) is progressing quite well. However, I just know that I am going to delete half of what I have written at some point during the editing process.

I know not everything makes it into the final draft. And right now, the most important thing is to get it down on paper. The rest can come later. I just need to get out of the editing mindset and back into the writing mindset -- which should be easy to do, in theory, but is sort of difficult to put into practice.

Nonetheless, I've arranged my schedule such that I have a bit more time to write (gave up on housecleaning -- ha, that'll show 'em), and I'm especially happy with my opening scene.

All Right, Let's Get This Thing Over With (aka Post 1000)

2013-07-24T18:12:00.001-07:00

I realized this morning that I forgot to post something here yesterday. Ah well, that's life, right? You prioritize one thing and something else goes south. I've recently gotten back into the swing of writing every day, and I've been spending more time on Amazon-related activities, and of course there's still the job and the animals and such, but that means the blog has suffered.

So did I ever expect to make it to one thousand posts? I don't know actually know the answer to that question. I'm not claiming every post has been good; I've certainly plastered up some hastily-conceived, poorly-written crap from time to time. (More often than not, lately, I fear.) But I've gotten a lot out of maintaining this blog:

I've learned that it takes a lot of time to compose a thoughtful book review.
I've learned a lot about editing and proofreading.
I've slowly become a (partial) e-book convert.
I've realized that when I'm being snarky and sarcastic is when I do my best writing. (Guess that's my natural voice.)
I've hopefully pointed aspiring writers to some resources I've dug up on the internet that ought to help them with their work.
I've taken a stand against poorly-edited, hastily-constructed, self-published novels.
I've had a laugh or two (or many) at joke Amazon reviews.
I've informed people about the menace that is Harriet Klausner.
I've been quoted in the New York Times.
I've connected with people in a couple of different online communities.
I've grudgingly joined Facebook and Twitter (though only for this blog).
And more.

What do I see for the next thousand posts? Will I still be around, causing trouble and insulting people? Probably.

All right, whining dog (who, alas, peed on the floor today, after MONTHS of good behavior) and stuff to deal with now.

Post 999

2013-07-22T18:08:00.001-07:00

If I counted right, this is my 999th post.

I don't really have anything to say, so I'll share a link:

www.d-e-f-i-n-i-t-e-l-y.com

Actually a damned hard URL to type with all the dashes between letters. Check out the Hall of Shame.

Bonus Post

2013-07-21T15:53:00.002-07:00

All right, so I lied the other day and forgot to post the review I said I'd post. Well, it's up now. But I feel like I need to write something else today.

I'm a bit distressed because a troll on Ammy hit me with 14 negative votes in the space of about 15 minutes and dropped my helpfulness percentage from 96% to 92%. Ah well, I know the person is just trying to get a rise out of me and hopefully s/he has used all her/his sockpuppet votes on me (without becoming a fan) and will move on and torment someone else -- or get banned by Ammy.

Also, I think my guinea pig is going to die pretty soon. He's awfully close to 7 years old, which is getting up there for a guinea pig, and older than any other guinea pig I've ever had (and I've had 9 of them, if I count right). But he isn't eating any more -- not hay, not pellets, not fruit, not carrots, not greens (and I've tried 4 different kinds of greens). I know I could take him to the vet, but I think it would just upset him, and I'm pretty sure all they'd tell me is that he's old. (He doesn't have any obvious signs of trouble -- no injuries, poops were normal until he stopped eating, was drinking water, no tumors or cysts, eyes are looking good, no indication he's in any pain, etc.) I'm choosing to leave him in the environment he's known for most of his life because I think that will be easier for him. If he starts to act like he's in pain, or anything like that, I'll take him to the vet. But realistically, I'm not going to have him much longer.

Anyway, if you are writing and trying to make your characters and their struggles more interesting, here is a nice blog post from Terrible Minds:

25 Ways to Fuck with Your Characters

Hopefully it will make you laugh (and make you think, and teach you something) because this post has been a downer.

Review - Sea Change by S.M. Wheeler

2013-07-21T08:32:00.002-07:00

Sea Change by S.M. Wheeler is not easy to categorize. Is it fantasy? Absolutely, in my opinion, if for no other reason than it contains certain fantastic elements not found in other genres (a witch with real powers, a reanimated corpse, cloaks that change one’s appearance, and magical creatures, to name a few).

But then it gets more complicated. The first paragraph of the book description rather makes it sound like a young adult novel: “The unhappy daughter of two powerful and manipulative parents, young Lilly turns to the ocean for solace. She finds it in the form of Octavius, an intelligent and eloquent kraken, in whose many arms Lilly learns of friendship, loyalty, and family. When Octavius, forbidden by Lilly to harm humans, is captured by seafaring traders and sold to a circus, Lilly becomes his only hope for salvation. Desperate to find him, she strikes a bargain with a witch that carries a shocking price.”

However, a young adult novel this is not. The book morphs about one quarter of the way through from being a book about an unhappy child into a fairy tale – just not a Disney-style fairy tale. Sea Change has much more in common with unedited Grimm Brothers offerings. Some scenes are rather graphic; the aforementioned witch, for example, has had her skin stolen by a couple of bandits, and the look of her body is vividly described. A deer is butchered, a rape is attempted, the bandits return home covered in blood. There’s also a scene with Lilly and a troll partway in that is both stunning and intimate and the implications of which will not be understood by many young people, I think.

Lilly’s parents have a tempestuous relationship. We learn – before Lilly goes on her quest to save Octavius – that her parents had been, at one time, very much a fairy tale couple in their own right. They took part in a certain heroic event and were rewarded by the king with noble status. They should have lived happily ever after. But they didn’t. Wheeler never exactly spells out what happened to make them hate each other so, though by the end of the book, enough hints have been dropped that we have a pretty good idea. Fairly early on, Lilly’s mother runs away and Lilly’s father remarries.

While the narrative structure isn’t exactly the same, and the ending certainly isn’t, I couldn’t help but think of the movie Pan’s Labyrinth, only with the evil male character being Lilly’s biological father and the pregnant woman being Lilly’s stepmother, Mary. Perhaps because this comparison was running through my head, I wondered for a long while whether the world of Lilly’s home was the “real” world, so to speak, and her quest was only in her imagination. I don’t think that was actually the case, but it was interesting to consider the book from that perspective. I certainly wouldn’t blame someone like Lilly, who was already an outcast for having been born with a birthmark covering a large part of one side of her face, for escaping into fantasies.

At any rate, that line of thinking made me go back and forth about the setting. Except when the sea is being described, the setting takes a backseat to other aspects of the story – characters, relationships, Lilly’s quest. At the beginning and the end, when Lilly is at her home, the setting is a typical European one (it has more of a continental feel for me, as opposed to Ireland or the UK). The level of technology is indeterminable; there’s a village and a manor house, and there are both guns and blades, but that could cover a long period in European history, I think. Long-distance travel was by horse and there’s no indication there was any electricity or anything like that. Real languages are mentioned (French, Arabic) and Lilly’s father is involved in trade with an Arab sheikh. At any rate, other than the presence of Octavius (the kraken), Lilly’s world seems mundane.

If you prefer to have everything explained in a direct manner, this book will frustrate you. It is a short book (~300 pages in hardcover), but it is not a quick or easy read. You have to pay attention, sometimes to make inferences. Not every question that arises is answered. The style reminds me a bit of Catherynne M. Valente’s writing. It’s not exactly the same – Valente strikes me as much more whimsical and descriptive whereas Wheeler’s work is a bit faster-paced and has more action – but I think both writers have a somewhat literary style and Valente’s fans will find a lot to enjoy in Wheeler’s book.

This is very much a book written by a woman. I just can’t see this having come from a man. I don’t know whether this was intentional or not, but many of the male characters were either quite unsympathetic or else had been deliberately created to lack normal human personalities. Lilly’s father is violent towards his first wife and his daughter. Lilly’s male cousin and his father are quite rude to Lilly, even at a young age. The reanimated corpse is a tailor who is rather single-minded. Gero Alt, the circus master who holds Octavius captive, is greedy. Ignatz and Ivor, the bandits with whom Lilly spends some time, crave companionship but are violent, cruel, and greedy. (Rather incongruously, one of them had formerly been a priest and spent time reading the Bible.) The bandits controlled a band of male automatons who lacked personalities. Even Sheik Efreet, whom Lilly had thought of as something of a friend, ultimately betrays Lilly. Lilly’s new friend Horace, though human in appearance, is not what he seems.

Women hold a lot of power in these books. Lilly’s mother (and later Mary) has the power of her womb, as Lilly’s father is desperate for a suitable heir (which he believes Lilly is not; due to her birthmark, no one is interested in marrying her, despite her father’s money). The troll who shares a scene with Lilly fairly early on is female. Ermentrud (a “dark wife”) has captivated Gero Alt and he does what he does because of his infatuation with her. Gottschalk, the witch, is in thrall to Ignatz and Ivor, but she can still manipulate them (or manipulate Lilly to get to them). And then there’s Lilly, who saves the day.

This is also the sort of book that I can see being discussed in college English classes. There are so many themes running through the, besides the obvious ones of quest and friendship, that it’s hard to pick just one. Though there is little information available about the author on the internet, I would not be surprised to find that she had studied creative writing (formally, that is, such as in an MFA program or well-known writer’s workshop).

Identity is another theme in this book – particularly the interplay between one’s physical appearance and how that person is perceived by the world. Lilly is shunned because of her looks. This affects her life – makes her a poor marriage prospect, makes her father see her as an unsuitable heir, makes her seek solace and friendship in a sea creature. She undergoes a rather dramatic transformation during her confrontation with the troll, becomes androgynous as a result (and starts referring to herself as “Lyle”), and is discomfited by the different sort of attention she begins to receive (apparently men are judged less by appearance than are women, in this world). She is still powerless at this stage, as she is just becoming familiar with her new body. Only physical labor for the bandits (chopping wood, weeding, butchering, etc.) shapes her body and makes her strong enough to complete her task. So Lilly undergoes not one, but two external transformations. Until nearly the end, though, Lilly manages to retain her internal identity.

Lilly’s final transformation signals the end of her childhood, as well. Though she’s 18 when the bulk of the book takes place, the internal change to her identity occurs rather suddenly near the end of the book and marks a dividing line between the life she’s known thus far and what may happen in the future. This is very much the coming-of-age story it is advertised as being.

I haven’t said much about the other characters because this is very much Lilly’s book. Though Sea Change is written in the third person, Lilly is the only viewpoint character. We get hints of complexity with other characters (Lilly’s parents, for example, and also, arguably, the bandits) but none of them are as well-developed as Lilly.

Other themes are evident, as well. The old adage “be careful what you wish for, you just might get it” comes to mind – for Lilly as well as for at least one side character. How friendships come about and how they change over time are also examined.

The book is also a bit depressing. Though Lilly’s childhood was difficult, she had a few bright spots – a certain comfort in the sea, adventures and conversations with Octavius, servants who tried to shield her from the worst of her parents’ arguments, occasional kindnesses from her mother. By the end of the book, Lilly has lost an awful lot. In fairness, she’s gained things as well, and she has shown herself to be adaptable enough that we can be reasonably certain she’ll be able to cope with whatever the future brings, though it might not be the future she envisioned when she started her journey.

It has been a long while since a book made me think about this many different issues. This book may not be for everyone – in particular, I would not give it to children or young teenagers, nor to anyone looking for a light read – but Sea Change is certainly thought-provoking and I will be interested to see more from S.M. Wheeler in the future.

Full disclosure: the publisher (Tor) provided me a review copy of this book so I could write a review for BestFantasyBooks.com.

Tomorrow

2013-07-19T18:00:00.005-07:00

Going to post a review tomorrow. Too tired tonight. Got caught up in other things today, like work and stuff. Some days are just like that. Unfortunately, more days have been like that than not, lately. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's good to have work. But it really cuts into my leisure time.

Same Study, Totally Different Headlines

2013-07-18T19:17:00.001-07:00

From The Atlantic wire:

The Internet Is Making Writing Worse

From The LA Times:

OMG! Survey, like, says digital-savvy students are good at writing!

Compelling Characters (Sort Of)

2013-07-17T17:29:00.001-07:00

I haven't posted anything from the New York Times here for awhile. I found this today, though, and thought I'd share.

Tell Their Secrets

It does make you think, and for those writers who are not so character-focused (I'm probably included in this group), it serves as a good reminder.

And yeah, his "better" example of how to describe the character improves upon a simple listing of physical characteristics. But, as one of the commenters says, the author of this piece is doing a fair amount of telling and less showing in that example.

Anyway, there's some good discussion (including some differences in opinion) in the comments, as well. Worth checking out if you're writing a manuscript of your own.

The Mystery of the Missing Husband

2013-07-16T15:10:00.003-07:00

The Mystery of the Missing Husband
Harriet's "Reviewing Circle" Mysteries #2

Harriet Klausner had a rhythm going. She picked up the top book from the stack of unread books on the floor next to her armchair. She flipped through the pages at lightning speed, then deposited the book -- still unread -- on the other side of her armchair. She grabbed the next one and did the same. And so on and so forth until -- the horror -- she reached down, and farther down, and still farther down, and her hand actually hit the floor.

Harriet blinked. What should she do? Her husband and son were away; the girls' basketball team Stanley coached was playing in a tournament and Eric had gone along to support his father.

With trepidation, she looked over the side of the armchair. Sadly, she'd been reaching in the right place. It was just that the books were all gone.

Harriet felt something deep in the pit of her stomach. What WAS this feeling? Guilt about pretending to have read books she'd only flipped through? Remorse for inflicting over 29,000 poorly-constructed plot summaries on Amazon customers? No, nothing that complicated. Harriet was simply hungry.

Though unfamiliar with the workings of a functioning kitchen, Harriet had a vague idea that food was supposed to be stored there. It was where Stanley insisted she keep the two-gallon jugs of relish he bought her at Costco every week. But Harriet wasn't in the mood to eat relish straight from the jar with a spoon, not tonight. No, she needed something to put the relish on.

Harriet worked to dislodge herself from her armchair, knocked over a TV tray in the process. She hadn't ever put them away after the debacle that had been the first meeting of her "Reviewing Circle" mystery solving club. With a groan and a couple of popping joints, she bent over and righted the TV tray. Oh, the nerve of Stanley and Eric to go off and leave her alone. She was Amazon's Number One Hall of Fame Reviewer! She needed someone to wait on her hand and foot so she could keep the plot summaries going out and the free boxes of books from publishers coming in. She was just that dedicated, though even her own family members didn't appreciate her tireless devotion.

She could see the kitchen through the doorway. The only thing now was to get through the living room. What an obstacle course! Harriet skirted around a copy of Norwegian police procedurals, dodged a falling stack of erotica, and tripped over a couple of African-American health guides, landing face-down on the kitchen floor.

"Oof," Harriet said. "What tsuris I am experiencing." She pushed herself up with ease. After all, she'd developed considerable upper body strength from over a decade of flipping through books at lightning speed and hitting "control + C" in her dictation software and, subsequently, "control + V" in the Amazon reviewing window. And those mouse clicks! Harriet wondered if any other index finger on the face of the planet had the strength of hers.

Having reached the kitchen, Harriet took a look around. This room was full of metal boxes! But which one held the food? First, she turned her attention to the closest; it rose to about waist height and had a window in the door. On top were four raised, circular things. Above the mysterious circles, a forlorn digital display blinked "12:00." A series of knobs or dials ran across the front. This didn't seem like what Harriet wanted, though, so she turned to the next metal box.

This one also rose to waist height, but it sat under the counter. It had some push buttons across the top of the front but no window in the door. Harriet decided to try her luck with this appliance. Alas, all that greeted her when she opened the door were some clean dishes.

That left two metal boxes. One was the microwave; Harriet knew all about that. Before she could use the microwave, though, Harriet had to have some food to put IN the microwave. When Stanley had found out that Harriet had served the members of her "Reviewing Circle" club some Swanson Hungry Man dinners from 1975, he'd gone out to the garage, unplugged the deep freezer, and thrown all its contents into the trash. By the time Harriet realized what Stanley had done, it was too late -- the garbage truck had come and gone.

"You could go to the Kroger and pick yourself up some new frozen dinners," Stanley had said.

"They don't make them the same way anymore," Harriet had said.

"Well, it wouldn't kill you to get out of the house every now and then."

Harriet hadn't talked to him for a week after that. She'd slept on the sofa, using her trusty "Over the Top of ___" Atlas for a pillow.

The last metal box loomed in front of Harriet. This one was taller than she was, and it had TWO doors but no dials or buttons. She opened the top one first -- full of cold bags printed with pictures and words and containing hard chunks of something. She pulled out the first bag. She had no idea what the words said -- who could be bothered with actually READING? The picture showed carrot coins. Who would keep carrot coins around? Maybe it was a trick and Stanley was hiding some large desserts inside. She ripped open the bag, dumped the contents on the table. And darn it, if it really wasn't carrot coins!

Carrots forgotten, Harriet chose another bag at random. Whatever was in here had thawed and refrozen in a solid hunk. She ripped it open, peered inside. Frozen PEAS? Seriously, who ATE this stuff? Harriet tossed it aside.

Five minutes later, three bags of chopped spinach, four additional bags of peas, two pounds of frozen corn, and one bag each of sliced bell peppers, kale, broccoli, and Lima beans had met their fates on the kitchen floor. Harriet paused to consider the second, lower door, but decided against opening it. Surely she'd only find more vegetables. She'd rather avoid further disappointment.

Almost desperate enough at this point to eat the relish directly from the jar with a spoon, Harriet scanned the room one last time. Her eyes lit up when she spotted something wrapped in plastic out on the counter. She approached, poked at it with a finger. It didn't bite back, so she unwrapped the plastic and found most of a loaf of rye bread. Perfect. THIS would go great with relish. Harriet cradled the loaf of bread under one arm, kicked some thawing vegetables aside, and retrieved her relish jar from the pantry. She paused next to the silverware drawer. Should she get a spoon? Well, that WAS more civilized. She got the spoon.

Harriet went back out to the living room. Ha! Getting her own meals. That'd show Stanley how unnecessary he was.

Unconsciously, Harriet reached for a book. Then, she realized what she was doing and pulled her hand back. She couldn't eat and handle books at the same time! First off, she needed both hands to flip through the books. Secondly, she didn't want to get food on the books. That would greatly decrease their resale value. Harriet reached down between the armchair cushion and the side of the chair, fished around for a bit, and eventually extracted the remote control. She turned on the television. Good, Deep Throat was already in the DVD player.

Harriet ripped off a hunk of rye bread and spooned relish on top. So much relish, in fact, that she didn't even notice that the bread looked a little off. She settled in to watch her favorite actor, Harry Reems. She really liked the part with the bandages.

Harriet spent the next couple of hours mesmerized. By the time the credits started playing, she had eaten the entire remainder of the loaf of rye bread and finished off the relish, as well. She hoped Stanley had thought to buy a backup.

She set the empty relish jar down, stretched. The spoon had fallen out of her hand at some point and lay forgotten on the floor. Harriet felt a little strange. She knew she ought to be doing something. Harriet shifted positions, heard the sound of paper inside her chair. She stood up, removed the cushion. There -- a book! Harriet was supposed to be ‘reviewing.’ She removed the book from the chair, replaced the cushion. She sat down and opened the book to the first page. There wasn't much text here. And the paragraphs were numbered. Where were the proper nouns? Where were the geographical locations, the character names? Where was the dust jacket summary? Harriet flipped further through the book. What was this curious tome? Would she -- gasp -- actually have to READ any pages inside before writing a review?

Maybe she'd just read item #1. That was basically the same as reading the back cover.

"1. A box of candy can be divided equally (without cutting pieces) among 2, 3, or 7 people. What is the least number of pieces of candy the box could contain?"

Harriet threw the book down. What was this devilry? Were these MATH PROBLEMS?

She shook her head as if to clear it, blinked a few times. When she looked up, she was surprised to find a man sitting on the sofa across from her.

"Hello, Harriet," the man said.

Harriet shrank back. "How did you get in here? Who ARE you?"

"I'm John Sebastian, of course," the man said.

Harriet clasped her hands over her heart. "I'm one of your biggest fans!"

John Sebastian said nothing, just bobbed his head up and down. The silence was interrupted by a scratching sound at the front door. "I'd better go get that," Harriet said.

Harriet deftly maneuvered the obstacle course that was her front hallway -- twin piles of relationship guides on the left, a precarious tower of paranormal romances on the right, a yellowing escarpment of mass market Harlequin Superromances dead ahead. She looked through the peephole. No one was there. She had almost made up her mind to turn around and go back to John Sebastian in the living room when she realized that perhaps the new UPS man had dropped off her daily allotment of advance review copies without knocking. She opened the door, looked down.

"Hello, Harriet," a voice said from near the ground.

"Hello?" she asked.

"Don't you remember me, Harriet?" the voice asked.

Harriet furrowed her brow.

"I'm Diogenes of Sinope, your favorite philosopher."

Harriet's eyes lit up. "Diogenes! Did you ever find the honest man you were looking for?"

"Sadly, no. But I'm here to help YOU find something."

"Me? But I haven't lost anything."

"Don't be so sure." After a moment, Diogenes continued. "Aren't you going to let me in?"

"Of course. What was I thinking?" Something wasn't right with Diogenes. He was awfully short, awfully low to the ground. But right now, Harriet really wanted to know what he had to say.

Diogenes came in. He was quick and agile and had made it to the living room in no time, despite the many obstacles in his way. It took Harriet a bit longer, and she was winded when she got back to her favorite armchair.

Diogenes had taken a seat next to John Sebastian on the sofa. Harriet slid around in her seat until her rear end locked into the permanent indentations in the foam cushion of her armchair. Stanley tried to get her to buy a new one from time to time, but Harriet wouldn't hear of it. Not when she'd spent so long conditioning this one. It molded to her body perfectly.

Harriet folded her hands in her lap. "So, Diogenes, welcome to my home. You said I was missing something?"

"I did."

"Well? What is it?"

"You tell me."

Harriet scowled. She scanned the floor, hoping to pick up some clue. What on earth was Diogenes talking about? Her eyes stopped when she reached the book she'd thrown down in frustration earlier. She looked at it, then looked back up at Diogenes. He nodded.

She picked the book back up off the floor.

"You've got to open it," Diogenes said.

Harriet opened the book back to the first page. She gasped and did a double-take. Someone had penciled in the number 42 below the silly question about the candy box. "Who did this?" she asked. "Who defaced this book?"

"Did you ever have to make up your mind?" John Sebastian sang. "You pick up on one and leave the other one behind. It's not often easy and not often kind. Did you ever have to make up your mind?"

Harriet looked from the book to John Sebastian, then back to the book again. Her eyes went wide. "My spouse!"

"Yes?" Diogenes asked. He nodded.

"I can't find my spouse. He knows linear algebra. He can do these puzzles."

"Exactly," Diogenes said.

"Where is he? Where is my Mikey?" Harriet asked. "If I turn on my charm, I'll bet I can get him to write the 'review' for this puzzle book."

"Do you believe in magic, in a young girl's heart? How the music can free her, whenever it starts..." John Sebastian crooned.

Harriet watched him, mesmerized. To be treated to a personal Lovin' Spoonful concert in her own living room. The only thing better would be if Mikey could be here to see it with her.

She did not hear the front door slam, did not hear two pairs of feet maneuvering down the hallway, did not hear anything, in fact, until someone grabbed her shoulder and shook it. "Harriet!" Stanley said.

"Not now, Stanley," Harriet said. "I'm listening to John Sebastian sing. Then we're going to go find my spouse Mikey. We're going to solve a mystery!"

"Harriet, I don't hear the radio."

"He's not ON the radio. He's right here on the sofa. Don't you see him?"

"Harriet, that's not John Sebastian, that's my Chipper Jones bobblehead."

"Diogenes, tell Stanley. Tell him we're going to solve the mystery of my missing spouse Mikey."

Stanley furrowed his brow. "Diogenes?" He looked to the figure seated to the left of the bobblehead on the couch. Then, "Aiiiiiiiii!" He grabbed Harriet by the arm, pulled her out of the living room. "Eric, go outside and call animal control on your cell phone."

"All right, Dad." Eric left.

Stanley mustered all his strength and dragged Harriet out of the house, knocked over stacks of books right and left, slammed the front door behind them.

Harriet frowned. "What did you do that for?" she asked. "You're the one who made Mikey disappear, aren't you? You always were a jealous one."

"Harriet, I have no idea what you're talking about. How in the world did that THING get into the house?"

"Thing? What thing?"

The animal control truck pulled up to the house. The driver emerged and removed an empty cage and a long pole ending with a loop from the back of his truck. Eric approached him; after exchanging words with Eric, the man went back to the cab of his truck and pulled on a pair of long, thick, leather gloves.

Stanley had his hands full keeping Harriet from rushing back into the house. But it looked like Eric had things under control. Once the animal control employee had gone inside, Stanley called to Eric. "I think your mother's hallucinating. Maybe you should also call an ambulance."

Eric nodded, dialed some more numbers on his phone.

A few moments later, the animal control man emerged from the house, carrying a creature inside the cage. "A long-tailed weasel. Rabid, from the looks of it. How did that EVER get into your house?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Stanley said.

"Did anyone come into contact with it?" the man asked.

"As far as I know, only my wife."

"Well, you'd better get her vaccinated, just in case. It hasn't been too long, so she should be all right."

"The ambulance is already on the way." Sure enough, the flashing lights and sirens of an ambulance could soon be seen and heard at the end of the street. The animal control man put the caged weasel in the back of his truck and drove away. The ambulance pulled into the driveway and a pair of EMTs emerged.

Harriet shrieked. "No! He took Diogenes away! How am I ever going to find my spouse Mikey now?"

"Do you have any restraints in there?" Stanley asked the EMTs. "I'm having trouble holding her."

--The Next Morning--

Stanley and Eric sat in the hospital waiting room. They'd been here all night. Stanley had a crick in his neck from sleeping in one of the waiting room chairs. He cradled a cup of cold, terrible coffee in his hands. Eric had his ear buds in and played a game on his cell phone and was, like all young people in similar circumstances, oblivious to his surroundings. A doctor in a white coat entered the waiting room. "Mr. Klausner?" he asked.

"That's me," Stanley said. He shook Eric's arm. Eric removed his ear buds.

"Would you like to see her?" the doctor asked.

"Yes, please."

"Follow me." The doctor led them out of the room and down a hallway. "We're still trying to piece together what happened. Is there anything you can add that might help?"

Stanley shrugged. "Eric and I went out yesterday evening. I coach a girls' basketball team and there was a tournament. When we got home, Harriet was blabbering some nonsense about Diogenes and John Sebastian and someone named Mikey I've never heard of, and she was staring intently at a bobblehead. She said the bobblehead was singing to her. And there was a weasel on the couch across from her. A rabid WEASEL!"

"Well, don't worry about that. We've started her on the antiviral shots. It's much easier these days than it used to be. Were either of you exposed?"

"Not I," Stanley said.

"Me neither," Eric said.

"She was hallucinating, you say? The toxicology lab did find a high level of ergot alkaloids in her system. I'm sorry to have to bring this up, but is your wife a drug user?"

"No, never," Stanley said.

Eric slapped his forehead with his palm. "The rye," he said.

"What?" Stanley and the doctor asked, simultaneously.

"Remember that rye loaf you wanted me to throw out because it looked funny? I hadn't gotten around to it yet. It was still in plastic on the counter when we left the house. When I went to clean up the kitchen floor -- you know she threw out every single bag of vegetables from the freezer, by the way -- the rye was gone. She must've eaten it," Eric said.

"Ergot poisoning would explain the symptoms you describe," the doctor said. He stopped walking. "Well, we're here. She's tired, so it's best if you only stay a few minutes."

"Thank you, doctor," Stanley said.

"All in a day's work. I've got rounds, so be sure to let the nurse know if you need anything." The doctor walked off.

"Stanley!" Harriet said from inside the hospital room. "How soon can I get out of here? I didn't get to 'review’ any books yesterday. I need to post some 'reviews!'"

Eric and Stanley looked at one another.

"She's going to be fine, isn't she?" Eric asked.

"Indeed son, she is. Indeed she is."

The End

References

Large Dessert
Diogenes of Sinope
Tsuris John Sebastian/Lovin' Spoonful
Stanley Coaches Girls' Basketball
Puzzles with Mikey
Harry Reems

Teaser

2013-07-15T16:51:00.003-07:00

What do a Chipper Jones bobblehead and a rabid weasel have in common?

Find out tomorrow...