Arson and Old Lace: A Far Wychwood Mystery (Harwin, Patricia. Far Wychwood Mystery Series.)

Book Description

Chapter One

I pulled the car in close to the hedgerow and turned the key, and that amazing silence came down. It was the silence I had been wanting for more than a year, since my husband had left me, since I'd decided my only hope of peace lay in the ancient rhythms of an English village.

I used to wake in our apartment on West Eighty-third and listen for that silence through Manhattan's background hum. Keeping by long habit to my side of the bed, I would see behind closed eyelids the narrow country road and the old cottages with roses in bloom on their walls, as they had been when Quin and I had first come to Far Wychwood.

The village inn had been more affordable than an Oxford hotel when we'd come over to attend the wedding of our daughter, Emily, in Christ Church Cathedral, and we'd loved it so much, we had stayed there again when our grandson was born. The memory had become a refuge after Quin told me he'd fallen in love with another woman, and then through the hard labor of adjusting to life alone.

I closed my eyes and sank into the silence. When I opened them I saw my new home, standing where it had stood since the seventeenth century. Built of honey-colored Cotswold stone, its slate roof thick with velvety lichen, its windows mullioned and diamond-paned, a trail of brown vine by the door with the ghosts of last summer's roses clinging -- it looked like a Travel Britain poster, and it even had a name, in the English way: "Rowan Cottage."

I had been right to give the realtor an order for "a nice little furnished place in Far Wychwood" and leave the rest to her. She knew the kind of thing we Yanks were looking for.

I stepped out of the little car I had rented that afternoon at Heathrow, on a surge of relief at having made it all the way to Gloucestershire on the wrong side of the road without killing myself or anyone else. It would have been more sensible to have spent the night in London, as Emily had urged me to, but I couldn't wait to see my new home.

I pulled my suitcase and carry-on from the trunk. I had given everything to my friends in New York except a modicum of clothing, and the books, CDs, and photo albums I'd shipped. The rest belonged to the three quarters of my life Quin had shared, and I never wanted to see it again. I looked forward to leisurely days browsing county markets and antique shops for the furnishings of my new, solitary life.

But as I opened the gate and started up the worn brick path, the first pang of doubt struck. Could I be turning into a crazy old lady already, in just the first year of my sixties? It was kind of crazy to leave a circle of friends, a long career as a librarian, a whole country behind on the strength of a memory. After thirty years in Manhattan, could I be happy out here in the sticks? Wasn't I liable to go crazy from boredom?

The great adventure I'd been having began to feel like one more example of "going off half-cocked," as Quin called it, that impetuous nature he and Emily found so trying. But I realized I was veering perilously close to self-pity. This mood had to be the result of a drop in endorphin levels from two days without a good long walk, I told myself firmly.

My English realtor, a woman named Eleanor Coleman, had sent me a key. When I opened the door and stepped into the narrow hallway, the musty smell of a long-closed house rose around me. I flipped a wall switch and an overhead light came on. Thoughtful Eleanor Coleman! She'd had the electricity turned on.

I stepped into the room on my right and pushed another light switch. I was in a cozy little sitting-room with bare, random-width floorboards. A sofa covered in classic chintz and a green baize wing-chair flanked a fireplace. The far wall was ridged with empty bookcases from floor to ceiling.

The kitchen, across the hall, was the real English article, with stone-flagged floor, wooden dish rack over the sink, and glass-fronted cabinets. The only appliances were a rather elderly refrigerator and a huge Aga stove that took up most of one wall. I opened a door beside it and started up a steep, boxed-in staircase.

The second floor was tucked under the eaves, the ceilings low and slanted. There was an adequate, old-fashioned bathroom and two bedrooms freshly painted in a nice pale peach color, with good firm beds. The leaded casements of the larger room overlooked the back yard, its bare trees and bushes soft-edged in the twilight. The other bedroom looked out on the road and somebody else's cottage across the way, with one lighted window.

I leaned on the sill and looked out. Whoever lived in that little cottage was my only near neighbor. Woods and fields surrounded us, except for an abandoned building with a fallen-in thatched roof a few hundred yards down on my side of the road. We were apparently the last two occupied dwellings at this end of the village.

My second thoughts were multiplying into third and fourth ones. Everybody had said I was so brave when I'd told them my plans, but could it be that, under the surface bravado, I was really just one of those awful clinging mothers?

Emily had been a Rhodes scholar. As soon as she had finished her Oxford degree she had married her tutor. While I'd felt some regret that she would be staying in England, I'd had my chosen life and wanted her to have hers, too. She'd gone on to qualify as a psychotherapist and found a great job at an Oxford hospital. As it turned out, it was better that she was overseas during the breakup. It had hurt her enough at long distance.

That had all happened while she was still on maternity leave. Only after she went back to work had I begun to hear stress in her voice over the transatlantic wires. A succession of babysitters proved unsatisfactory, the hospital wanted her to take on more patients, little Archie came down with the usual baby ailments. She had sounded so delighted when I'd suggested coming over to live nearby and lend a hand. But how would she feel now that I was really here?

I flashed on her face, younger than her years, the blue eyes going cold behind her glasses. I remembered her voice, that patronizing tone she could assume so easily: "No, Mother, I don't think he needs a little cereal. That's an outmoded idea from your generation. The best authorities say milk is all a baby should have for the first six months, so please don't keep on about it."

That had been fourteen months ago, the last time I'd seen her. Quin, as always, had backed her up, and I had swallowed my opinions to keep the peace, hard though that always was for me.

Having burned all my bridges behind me, how would I now stand up to her when she gave me the Look, as sooner or later she would?

You will not go on worrying like this, I told myself sternly. I knew I was strong enough to forget the past and deal with whatever dilemmas the future would bring. It only required determination and will, and plenty of exercise. I ordered myself to think about something else -- that cottage across the road, for instance, about as old and picturesque as they come.

The little structure had spent centuries settling into its plot of ground, and now it leaned noticeably to one side. There were a couple of broken panes in one of the casements, which must make it pretty cold in there on a March evening like this. The window and door frames hadn't been painted for years, and the yard was such a tangle of weeds, I couldn't see a path. I wasn't going to find any new friends in that decrepit place, I thought glumly.

Then I noticed something grey and wispy, easing out under the door. I peered closer. Yes, it was smoke, seeping around the door, blowing through the missing windowpanes. As I watched it came faster and faster, and then the light went out.

I ran downstairs and across the road, and pounded on the door. There was no answer, but I could hear somebody blundering around in there, knocking things over.

"Hey!" I shouted. "Your house is on fire! Hello!"

There was still no response, so I turned the knob. The door swung in abruptly, and I was enveloped in smoke. Something black went whizzing past my feet and out the door. I didn't stop to see what it was, but plunged in, holding my breath.

The fire lit up the far wall. I could see the flames rising from a stove, reaching for the rafters. They had begun to consume a curtain above the stove, and a piece of the fabric was drifting to the stone floor, just missing a burlap sack that lay there.

As I came near the fire a shape loomed up beside me, tall and dim in the smoke. It stood there unmoving while I groped for the stove knob and twisted it. The fire died into the burner. I grabbed the curtain rod and jerked the burning curtain to the floor, leaned across to the sink to turn the faucet on full blast, let the water partially fill a battered tin pot, and upended it over the curtains. Then I did it again. The damp smoke gagged me, but the flames smoldered out.

I pressed a towel over my mouth and nose and went around opening casements. In a few minutes the smoke began to clear. Now I could make out that figure by the stove, a tall, thin man with a beard, bent over, coughing spasmodically. Why hadn't he made a move to help me?

As we both began to draw breath again, he spoke. "Annie?" he said in a high-pitched, quavering voice.

"No," I choked out with exasperation, "my name's not Annie!"

I grabbed his arm and pulled him out the door. We stood on the doorstep, dragging in air and looking each other up and down.

The moonlight showed me what a very old man he was. Gnarled bones stood out under the furrows of his face. His clouded eyes were sunk back in their sockets and his mouth caved in on toothless gums. His shirt was a mosaic of food stains, his fly was half unzipped, he wore a broken-down shoe on one foot but only a sock on the other. And he smelled. The odors of unwashed flesh and stale urine floated to me on the night breeze.

He was glaring at me indignantly. "You bain't Annie!" he growled.

"No," I said, much more gently, now I could see the old man must be senile. "My name's Catherine. However did that fire start?"

He glanced back into the cottage, shaking his head of long, matted grey hair.

"Don't know, do I? Just fixing a bit of egg and bacon for dinner, I were, and there the cooker took fire. It's they witches, I don't doubt."

"Right, must have been witches." I felt too sorry for the poor old fellow to laugh. "Well, it's about cleared out, and I'm getting cold, aren't you? Let's go back inside."

He followed me. The inside was just like the outside, cluttered and unkempt, with burlap bags of produce standing around, dry sticks that must once have been herbs hanging from the rafters, food-crusted dishes and pans on the table and in the sink, and under the smell of smoke the smell of rot.

There only seemed to be one source of light, a big brass lamp lying on the floor under the window. Crossing the slanted floor to get to it was like walking up a ramp. It was heavy, and, when I set it on a table and twisted the switch, its light was flickering, inadequate.

The old man went straight to the stove and reached for a box of wooden matches sitting next to one of the burners.

"No, no, no, you're going to do it again!" I exclaimed, pushing in to grab the matches out of his shaking hand.

"I'll have me egg and bacon!" he shouted feebly.

"Why don't you just sit down, Mr. -- What's your name?"

"Me name?" He stared as if unable to believe a person lived who didn't know who he was. "Me name's George, ain't it? George Crocker, same as it's been for more nor ninety year."

"Sit down, then, George. I'll fix you some bacon and eggs."

He sank into a chair by the big wooden table, muttering unintelligibly.

"You shouldn't be trying to cook," I said. "Isn't anybody living here with you? Your wife, or a son or daughter?"

"Wife?" He squinted with the effort of remembering. "Died long years ago, didn't she, Emma? A son, aye, I've a son. I've taken gurt care of him. He'll not want after I'm gone, won't Arthur."

"Why isn't he taking care of you?" I demanded. "Where is he, while you're setting fire to your house?"

"Arthur? In his home, and that's at Oxford. Did ye think I'd forgot where Arthur lives?"

"Does he ever come to see you?" I asked, already disliking Arthur, as I sawed at a rock-hard side of bacon sitting on an old hutch. "Why doesn't he hire somebody to stay with you, or get you into -- " I stopped, realizing I might be treading on dangerous ground.

"A workhouse?" He fired up instantly, his eyes flashing back in their caverns. "Nay, Missus, Arthur knows I'll never go to the bloody workhouse!"

"No, of course not. Don't worry about it. They haven't had workhouses for a long time." A vision of the dancing orphans in Oliver went through my head. "So, Arthur's your only child?"

"Nay. There was Annie."

He subsided, staring down at the flagstones, shaking his head sadly.

"I'd not mind if she were still here, but she's gone, ain't she? It weren't her fault. She were a good girl, always reading them books. Only a lass she were when it happened. And she made it right in the end, didn't she?" He slammed his fist down on the table, as if I were arguing with him.

I wondered if he knew what he was talking about, any more than I did. The bacon was sizzling now. I filled the tin kettle from the tap and lit another burner with the last match in the box. The room was getting chilly with everything open, and the smoke had cleared, so I shut the windows and went to shut the door. Just beyond the doorstep, a skinny black cat was sitting among the weeds, its tail curled neatly around its feet. It stared up at me, unblinking. As I started to close the door, it sprang up and ran past me into the cottage, as fast as it had streaked out before.

It went straight to George Crocker, sniffed his sock gingerly, and rubbed its body against his leg.

"There, Muzzle, 'twas naught in the end," he reassured it.

"What's its name?"

They both looked at me with wary hostility.

"Muzzle's his name."

"What kind of a name is that for a cat? Muzzle?"

"Aye, Muzzle, Muzzle -- where the bloody mouse lives!"

"Oh, Mousehole!"

He went back to stroking its scruffy fur.

"He can find 'em out better nor any cat I ever had, and do for the mouse as well. Do ye see any vermin runnin' about me house? Nay," he answered himself, "Muzzle'd not stand for it."

The cat slunk under the old man's chair and crouched there in lion-position, glaring out at me malevolently.

"Should I open a can of food for him?" I asked.

"Nay, he don't need you to do aught for him, no more nor I do! You go on home and mind your own dinner. Muzzle and me's fine on our own. I'll make the dinner, I been doin' it for fifty year!"

It was no use arguing with him. I looked around at the mess, wondering whether he would have a fit if I brought a mop over tomorrow. Old men were impossible to predict, I knew from experience. I remembered how my father had been in his last years, never as cantankerous as George Crocker, but ready one day to cooperate with anything I proposed, and the next in a feeble rage at an innocent word.

My eye lighted on a wavering line of white paint drawn around the whole room, where the floor met the walls.

"What did you do that for?" I asked, pointing at it.

He stared at me as if he doubted my sanity. "Why, for the witches, bain't it?"

"Oh, come on, George." I couldn't help smiling.

"It don't do to make game of the witches, Missus. They'll not cross one of they lines, everybody knows that. Think I want to be strangled with witch-weed in me sleep?"

It was hard to believe that thirty-six hours ago I'd been hailing a cab in mid-Manhattan traffic, and now I was listening to a character out of Thomas Hardy recommending the best way to deter witches.

"This were ever a gurt place for 'em," he rambled on. "Tell that by the name, can't ye? That'n's mother were a witch's familiar." He pointed under the chair. "The witch vanished away one day, like they do, with his cat, and left its kitten behind, and I took him in. I reckoned then the witches'd leave me be, and so they have." He chuckled at his own shrewdness.

"Then what do you need the white line for?"

"No harm in bein' double-sure. Not when it comes to the witches. What are ye grinnin' about? Them as don't credit the power of the dark ones'll turn up in the wych-wood one night with a rope of the witch-weed about their neck!"

"Well, Catherine, you were looking for old and quaint," I muttered sarcastically as I turned the bacon and eggs out on a cracked plate.

When I set it before him he grumbled about the way the food was cooked, but stuffed it in ravenously. Finally he set the plate on the floor. He had left one of the eggs, and the black cat crept out and ate it. When I went over to pick up the plate, the scruffy thing drew back and hissed at me.

"That is the meanest cat!" I exclaimed. "If it would act halfway friendly I'd get it some food, but -- "

"Forget that!" the old man ordered. "It's got late. I can't be nattering with fools all the night. I'm off to bed."

"Do you need any help?"

"Don't I tell ye I'm fine on me own?" he flared up again. "I've seen the day I could throw the smith over his smithy, if I'd a mind to. You ask folk, they'll tell ye."

I made sure the burners were off before I left. A quick look around had not revealed another box of matches, so I gave myself orders to bring some over tomorrow. I'd already decided to come back and cook him another meal.

Rowan Cottage was cold, and the musty smell was everywhere. I was too exhausted to figure out how the central heating worked. In fact, I opened one of the back windows in the kitchen to air the place out.

Before going to bed I picked up the phone. There was a dial tone, another detail seen to by miraculous Eleanor. I would have to be sure to look her up and thank her for all the extra trouble she'd taken.

I longed to hear Emily's voice, but something told me it would be better not to disturb them so late. I'd call in the morning.

I wandered around the place for a while, turning lights on and off, opening cabinets, the refrigerator, the stove, sitting down on the sofa to test it for comfort. Tired as I was, the thrill of actually being in my own seventeenth-century cottage, as different from a Manhattan apartment as anything could be, kept me going for half an hour or so. I felt safe for the first time in a year.

Finally I climbed the narrow, boxed-in staircase again, carrying my baggage. I was too weary even to bathe. I got my flannel nightgown out and put it on, found the mystery I'd started on the plane, and slipped into bed under the one thin blanket.

I read for a while, finishing the book. When I clicked the bed lamp off, the dark was profound with no street lights outside, and the silence I had so looked forward to was actually a little scary. Now I didn't feel so safe. I was used to the night sounds of screeching brakes, voices in the street, the rumble of the subway under the sidewalk. This was like being the last person left on the planet. Except, of course, for George Crocker, but somehow knowing he was nearby wasn't all that reassuring.

"What are you going to be scared of next?" I demanded into the darkness. "Maybe you'd better get a can of paint tomorrow, and make a line around the floor to keep the witches out!"

A minute later, I was asleep.

Customer Reviews:

Couldn't put it down.......2007-03-27

Loved this book, there were parts that made me laugh, easy read. Can't wait to read the next one in the series

Interest Take on Mystery.......2006-08-30

A pleasant approach to the mystery genre. The author has taken a flawed and vulnerable heroine and placed her in a charming and potentially hostile environment. Coupled with a very believable set of family conflicts, this is a fun book.

Ignorant and irresponsible!!!.......2006-05-16

I was initially delighted to stumble upon this new series. I love the premise of an older protagonist and the Cotswold setting; I even loved the cover. Imagine my shock when I got to page 158 and read the following dialogue as spoken by one of the characters:

".... the circumstances perfectly obeyed the rites of Wicca. He had been impaled by a pitchfork through the throat, pinned to the ground so his blood would flow into the soil, to nourish it -"

I don't know what sources Ms. Harwin utilized in her writing of this novel, but as a practitioner of Wicca myself for 15 years, I can attest to the fact that nowhere in our religion does impaling - or ANY kind of bloodletting - "obey the rites of Wicca". In fact it is quite the opposite, as the first and foremost rule of Wicca is `Harm None'. Wicca is a defined, well-documented religion with very specific principles and practices, with strict rules against harming anyone, EVER.

Before I reached that page I'd actually been in Barnes and Noble earlier that day looking for a copy of the next in the series. They didn't have it, and now I'm glad they didn't.

Harwin's careless, uneducated passing comments in this book are not only offensive but extremely irresponsible. I don't know when I've been more disappointed in a writer. I'm sorry that this promising series has now been ruined for me.

Simply Charming.......2006-04-29

On the basis of an Amazon recommendation, I picked up the second in the Far Wychwood mysteries. By the second chapter, I realized this was a jewel of writing, put it down, and bought Arson and Old Lace--first things first.
As to why I like the series:

First, the author does not waste words. Verbosity is a pet peeve of mine.

Second, the dialogue is witty and believable. The main character has been dumped by her husband of many years and decides to move to England, near her daughter. She gifts her friends with her possessions, keeping only "a modicum of clothing, and the books, CDs, and the photo albums"--my kind of person. In short, she is a charming eccentric.

Third, with titles like Arson and Old Lace and Slaying Is Such Sweet Sorrow, the books deserve to be read.

A Oxford village and an American librarian make a good mystery.......2005-08-05

I am traveling to Oxford soon and a friend gave me book two in this new series to read. I so enjoyed that one I had to have book one which was just as good a read. I cannot wait for book three!

Customer Reviews:

Describes Cambridge well, but very little "mystery" here.........2004-10-26

Irene Allen's first mystery "Quaker Silence" shows some promise. It makes the reader initimate with Cambridge, and shows a fascinating world of the Society of Friends(Quakers), but this fails as a mystery. Why? Because there wasn't much suspense here, as we figure out quickly that the homeless man isn't guilty, and when we find out who the killer is, we are disappointed because of the accidental nature of the killing, and we are left to wonder what will happen to him. Also the book is only about 200 pages. Fascinating Quaker quotes however.

A wonderful mystery featuring an elderly Quaker sleuth.......2001-06-22

As a Quaker, I greatly enjoyed this book ... sort of Miss Marple the Quaker (member of the Religious Society of Friends), about an elderly woman who feels Led to help solve a murder involving her Meeting. My only quibbles are that the author tried a wee bit too hard to make Friends appear unusual ... e.g., writing such things as "The two Friends walked down the street," etc., which no one would ever say or think. (One of the tenets of our faith is that we do not pass judgment on others -- so we're known for fitting in and getting along, despite not drinking, swearing, dancing, etc. As such, we do not stand out that noticeably, and you would no more say "The two Friends walked down the street" than you would "There goes a Baptist!") Likewise, we have unprogrammed worship wherein we sit quietly, waiting for the spirit of God to touch us and often inspire us to share something with the group. Although outsiders call it silent worship, *WE* don't. Also, the main character complained so much about her arthritis that I thought it related to the case's solution ... In the real world, however short of the mark we may fall, we nonetheless strive to be thankful for all that we have, rather than whining about what we lack.

However, that's just quibbling -- and probably something with which only a Quaker would find fault. If you enjoy comparatively light mysteries (no profanity, sex, vulgarity, or fast-paced, high-level spy themes) with a Miss Marple type of elderly woman thrust into the role of sleuth) and would like a glimpse of the Quaker beliefs, you should greatly enjoy this book. I certainly did!

Curl up with this and a cup of tea.......2000-03-29

No blood and guts, no drooling perverts, no wisecracking cardboard characters -- just a really good mystery written with a careful eye and a sort of spare simplicity that's appealing and fun to read. Less discerning readers may find Elizabeth Elliot a bit pedestrian -- but, what do they know? I love the way Elizabeth applies her deep faith, as well as her mature and healthy skepticism, to solve the mystery. Put the kettle on the stove and lose yourself with this wonderful book.

A charming mystery with great personality........1999-09-12

I appreciated the information on the Quaker tradition, and that the heroine is not a super hero or private sleuth. She is an interesting person dealing with the modern world. I look forward to reading more about Elizabeth.

Average customer rating:

Not even close!

Very good book

Positive Discipline for Working Parents: Raising Responsible, Respectful, and Resourceful Children When You Work Outside the Home
Jane Nelsen , and Lisa Larson
Manufacturer: Three Rivers Press
ProductGroup: Book
Binding: Paperback

Household Hints | How-to & Home Improvements | Home & Garden | Subjects | Books
Discipline | Parenting | Parenting & Families | Subjects | Books
General | Parenting | Parenting & Families | Subjects | Books
General | Parenting & Families | Subjects | Books
General | Health, Mind & Body | Subjects | Books
Similar Items:

Positive Discipline A-Z: 1001 Solutions to Everyday Parenting Problems (Positive Discipline Library)

Positive Discipline

Positive Discipline: The First Three Years: From Infant to Toddler--Laying the Foundation for Raising a Capable, Confident Child (Positive Discipline Library)

Positive Time-Out: And Over 50 Ways to Avoid Power Struggles in the Home and the Classroom

Positive Discipline for Single Parents : Nurturing, Cooperation, Respect and Joy in Your Single-Parent Family

Accessories:

Health o Meter HDC100-01 "Grow with Me" Teddy Bear Scale for Babies and Toddlers

Braun IRT 4020 ThermoScan Ear Thermometer

ASIN: 0761525106
Release Date: 2003-06-03

Book Description

As a working parent, do you struggle to find a balance between work and family? Do you feel frustrated or helpless when it comes to enforcing family rules and discipline? You are not alone. Tens of millions of parents share these common concerns. But help has arrived! Over the years, parents just like you have come to trust the POSITIVE DISCIPLINE series for its consistent, commonsense approach to child rearing. Positive Discipline for Working Parents is an invaluable resource to nurturing cooperation, good character, and positive life skills in children. You'll learn how to:

• Avoid power struggles with your children
• Maintain schedules, plan meals, and reduce stress through effective time management
• Learn the power of family meetings in tackling discipline and developmental problems
• Help those who care for your children understand the important philosophy of kindness and firmness in setting boundaries
• And much more!

Customer Reviews:

Not even close!.......2004-11-24

In all my years of reading parenting books I have never seen a book miss its mark by so far. The authors have no grasp on what really motivates good behavior in kids...teaching them to do the right thing, nurturing a conscience and helping them strengthen their capacity for self control....the struggles working parents may have disciplining their kids is only related to their knowledge about good parenting and has little to do with working! Next time these two write a book they really should take a moment and actually learn about what they want to educate the public about. In the meantime..stay clear!

Very good book.......2004-08-12

I think this book is excellent. It brought up a lot of new ideas that I have never come across in other child-rearing books or articles. There are many ideas regarding ways of thinking, and practical suggestions, for making the child's and parent's lives calmer and happier. It is a very useful book in understanding that everything we do and say truly effects what kind people our children become. A good portion of the book can really be for anybody, but there are many ideas that are specific to working parents.

Average customer rating:

A lifeline for the cuisinally challenged!!!

A must for every cook

Recipes so tasty my mouth is wet.

This book has changed the way I eat and think.

No More Mac and Cheese: A Bachelor's Guide to Cooking with Ease
William Marks
Manufacturer: MPC Press International
ProductGroup: Book
Binding: Spiral-bound

General | Baking | Cooking, Food & Wine | Subjects | Books
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General | Baking | Cooking, Food & Wine | 4-for-3 Books Store | Stores | Books
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ASIN: 0962845302

Book Description

Written in humorous rhyme, these very basic recipes are for those who have no time or interest in cooking. If you regularly prepare meals, this book is not for you. If you pick up burritos or chinese food on most nights, this is a quick, tasty and amusing alternative. A quick, easy and humorous guide to cooking for bachelors/ettes who are clueless in the kitchen. A cookbook for bachelors written in rhyme; rap while you're roasting! No time to cook? Hot date coming over? Have some simple fun in the kitchen!

Customer Reviews:

A lifeline for the cuisinally challenged!!!.......1999-04-14

With a lighthearted touch, Will Marks translates cooking complexitites into functional dishes for the everyday postcollege man. Readers will marvel at the simple elegance of Mr. Marks' menu, and wonder out loud why he would forsake his kitchen brilliance for the banality of Wall Street.

A must for every cook.......1999-04-05

Easy to use, practical, clever, and delicious recipes. Good for beginning cooks and for experienced ones too! Amusing as well as tasty recipes. Minnie Garnish, mother of three hungry animals

Recipes so tasty my mouth is wet........1999-03-24

William Marks' recipes are so delicious that my mouth salivates thinking about them. In fact, sometimes I cannot sleep at night thinking about "Chicken Cordon Orange." The book definitely arouses me - even more so than the recipes of Julia Child.

This book has changed the way I eat and think........1999-03-11

As a bachelor with limited cooking skills, I have purchased numerous self-help books over the years. Finally, I have found a book that makes cooking easy and fun. There are numerous recipes which have turned out great, including Hamburger Stroganoff. By following the step-by-step instructions I am able to eat a fun and nutritious meal every night. My girlfriend now thinks that I am a wiz in the kitchen. In that way, it has really changed my life. I look forward to coming every night to cook, instead of going out for a drink with Bobby Clark. I feel healthier. I have also developed a new hobby to go along with bowling and fishing. The only downide to the book, I would say, are the drawings, which tend to distract the reader from the tremendous content. If you are only going to have one book about cooking, and don't want to spend more than $5, this is the one.

Book Description

Delightful collection features large and small geometrics, stylized floral designs, repeating borders and much more. Instructions for cutting out and creating charming designs that will lend an authentic 19th-century look to walls, furniture, etc. 55 stencils.

Customer Reviews:

Victorian Stencils.......2006-10-06

This isn't a how-to book for the beginner, but if you know how to stencil and are willing to cut your own patterns, you can save a lot of money using the stencils in this book. As the introduction states, the patterns are printed on medium-weight manila paper, and are intended to be soaked in linseed oil and turpentine. This makes the stencil paper stronger and moisture-resistant. A more modern method is to place the stencil pattern under tempered glass, put a piece of mylar on top of the glass, and trace the pattern with a stencil burner. Another option is to place mylar on a cutting mat, trace the pattern onto the mylar, and cut it out with a utility knife. The designs are beautiful; I'm going to use many of them, but even if you use only one design, you have gotten more than your money's worth from this book.

Readers' comments.......2001-03-11

Unfortunately, I have no comments on the book as such, as I have not read the book. My first impressions are from readers' comments, or more specifically, typographical errors from reviews written by readers. Upon seeing typographical errors, either in the typing or grammatical errors, are these reviews not proofread by members of your staff before they are submitted? I apologize for being overly critical as the errors may simply be typos - but unfortunately this conveys other messages, from caliber of people doing reviews to difficult interpretation of meanings of what that person is actually trying to convey.

Victorian cut an use &stencils.......2000-05-18

I recieved this book as a gift. What an excellent gift to set off a spark of creativity. 55 victorian designs ready to use just dip in a mixture of lindseed and turpentine and cut stencil. This book takes you back to and old and simple time where handcrafted was so simple and there was no way you can make a mistake and there are so many designs to choose from. Another good thing about this book is its priced lower than if you bougth one precut stencil so you can't go wrong buying this book. It is a must for all stencil collectors! the only reason i don't give it 5 stars is there isn't much on instructions and, no how-to pictures. So be brave and try it anyway, its worth it!

Average customer rating:

Victorian Floral Cut & Use Stencils
George Ashdown Audsley , and Maurice Ashdown Audsley
Manufacturer: Dover Publications
ProductGroup: Book
Binding: Paperback

General | Arts & Photography | Subjects | Books

General | Puzzles & Games | Entertainment | Subjects | Books

General | Crafts & Hobbies | Home & Garden | Subjects | Books

Stenciling | Crafts & Hobbies | Home & Garden | Subjects | Books
ASIN: 0486260720

Book Description

38 stencils derived from authentic Victorian stencil designs—scrollwork, florals, medallions and more—presented in reusable form in a variety of popular sizes, ideal for decorating walls and furnishings and for crafts projects. Instructions. Introduction.

Average customer rating:

Victorian Cut & Use Stencils
Carol Belanger Grafton
Manufacturer: Dover Pub.
ProductGroup: Book
Binding: Mass Market Paperback
ASIN: B000LBRBCS

Book Description

These 30 unique crafts, inspired by a variety of cultures and shown in lovely color photographs, are more than just beautiful to look at: they can also promote peace, harmony, and personal well-being. Some, such as a soothing Tabletop Fountain and Crystal Light Box, encourage tranquility in the home. A wealth of intriguing facts accompany the projects.

Customer Reviews:

Creative Spirituality.......2006-10-05

Beautiful, vivid photos that definitely make the book. Gorgeous full color shots of all of the crafts, as well as zen photos randomly scattered through the book. I loved the quotes scattered throughout as well. The projects within are designed to bring a calm and peace to your daily life. The instructions are easy to follow for anyone making these crafts as well as easily adaptable if your needs differ. They vary from easy, such as the Healing Meditation Candle and the Receptivity Salts or can be quite involved such as the Star Light with Nine Points and the Doors of Perception Curtain. I have already made the Travel Altar, Smudge Pot, the Witness Mirror which I use for a small shrine, and of course the Low-Fire Kiln. I was very pleased to see the instructions for that included since I didn't really want to find try and find a local kiln that I could use. I have also used the kiln to make a Simple Earthen Chalice found in Witch Crafts by Willow Polson. I have a list of items that I wish to do soon, such as the Dream Decanter, the Amulet Bag, the Zafu and the Belly Belt. LOL. I have other projects to finish first or my husband won't let me buy the items needed for new stuff. I have 4 dresses cut and ready to sew for my daughters that have been sitting by the sewing machine for almost a month. :D I find this book invaluable no matter what Path you may be on.

A New Age.......2006-09-02

For those of us who are new age it is a wonderful book. Finally a book that gives you sights and scents that are really easy to make to put in your meditation area. And while you are making the art maybe put on some Yanni or David Arkenstone in your cd player to set just the right mood. Everyone needs a place where they can go and have some personal quiet time. This book gives you what you need to make it all that more relaxing.

Surround yourself with spiritual beauty.......2005-04-03

When I discovered this book I was filled with delight. The vivid photographs which are bursting with color depict each project in absolute detail. The instructions for making the crafts are easy to follow and the cost of gathering the necessary supplies is minimal when compared with purchasing something at a shop. I was especialy taken with the dream decanter, the retablo, and the hope vessel. Even if your not going to make any of the crafts, the photographs and pictures alone are worth having as a coffee table book.

Nice book if you have the resources..........2005-01-25

This is a beautiful book that will inspire you to create. The only problem is that it seems like you need to have a lot of materials to create these projects. There are really only TWO of these that I would find myself making: The travel altar and the chakra bracelet. These are two of the simplest ones. I would love to make the smudge pots, but you have to build your own kiln if you don't have one available. Then a few of the other projects you need a sewing machine for. Then on a few of the other ones you have to use a saw, drills and some lumber. This may appeal to some, but for those of us on budgets and looking for some simple projects, you won't really find it here!

An Invitation to the Spiritual.......2004-09-08

This is such an amazing book of projects and crafts which truly do enhance your spiritual life. Each and every project from the low fire kiln to the dream decanter is a wonderfull idea. My personal favorite however was the portable altar. Everyopne can benefit in some way from reading this book.

Book Description

With its extravagant homes, sumptuous gardens, and iconic residents, Palm Beach radiates luxury and wealth. Tiffany's Palm Beach showcases roughly 70 of the area's wealthiest, most powerful, and, in some cases, most reclusive residents in and around their stylishly opulent homes and gardens. Highlighted are exquisite Tiffany objects and jewels, both antique and contemporary, wherever they appear. With unprecedented access into the jealously and heavily guarded retreats in this most exclusive of American resorts, this deluxe volume is a virtual who's who of Palm Beach society.

The text accompanying the book's lush photography provides historical context to the significance of these spectacular homes as well as the architects, interior designers, and garden designers that fashioned them. The ultimate luxury wish book, this collection is perfect for admirers of Tiffany style and of life at the top in America today. The publication of this book coincides with the reopening of the renovated Tiffany & Co. in Palm Beach, in November 2005.

Customer Reviews:

a bit shallow.......2006-12-23

There isn't much substance to this book......
Fun pictures, but nothing much more

PALM BEACH.......2006-09-24

To almost anyone, Tiffany and Co. and Palm Beach would go hand and hand, analagous like Lalique and Monte Carlo. The concept for this book is very interesting and the author fully realizes how to exploit the two to their most advantagious. The text is highly informative and the images are crisp and beautifully presented. I agree with one of the reviews that this is an expensive coffee table book, but frankly im sure those interested in this sort of thing, will not think twice about the price of admission. Really a wonderful book on a very interesting subject, well done indeed.

FANTASY LAND.......2006-03-17

This book shows that given enough money there is no limit to how young, thin and attractive your wife can be. And apparently there is no limit to the hubris of the rich--designer wine cellars on a hurricane prone barrier island.
Last I checked there were over 260 homes for sale on Palm Beach with an asking price of $2 million up.
A great coffee table book. And a pictorial guide to The Season by Ronald Kessler that is sitting on my book shelves awaiting a read.

Tiffany's Palm Beach Review.......2006-03-11

Loved this book. I purchased it merely for inspiration photos for my own construction, but found myself reading each page!! Very interesting read!

You could only dream :-().......2006-01-16

For most people, this kind of lifestyle is only a dream, but wow, what colourful and beautiful dreams. This book is choc full of stunning photos that reflect the wealth some people luckily or unluckily have. Their houses (or should I say shrines) are treasures in their own rights, but the possesions inside are also gems. The Tiffany theme is reflected in here all the way through and there is some stunning pieces. This is a pricey 'coffee table' book, but it's so beautiful, you'll be glad you treated yourself or someone else.

Average customer rating:

The Best of Brochure Design .07

Great Design Reference

very usefull

Cutting-edge design is not the only design

beautiful, inspirational, educational

The Best of Brochure Design .07
Wilson Harvey
Manufacturer: Rockport Publishers
ProductGroup: Book
Binding: Paperback

General | Instructional & How-To | Arts & Photography | Subjects | Books
General | Graphic Arts | Graphic Design | Design & Decorative Arts | Arts & Photography | Subjects | Books
General | Arts & Photography | Subjects | Books
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The Best of Brochure Design 8 (Best of Brochure Design)

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The Best of Brochure Design 9 (Best of Brochure Design)

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ASIN: 1592530850

Book Description

Clients the world over turn to graphic designers to help them create standout brochures. Each brochure is critical, and landing a contract is highly competitive, so it is not surprising that designers are always searching for inspiration to execute a brochure with perfection.

This paperback version of Rockport's best-selling Best of Brochure Design series delivers on its promises. The Best of Brochure Design 7 features an extraordinary collection of work from top designers around the world, including Blok Design, Cahan & Associates, Hand Made Group, Pentagram SF, Pinkhaus, Radley Yeldar, Sagmeister Inc., and many, many more. This book provides a wealth of ideas for designing all kinds of brochures, from corporate and product literature to annual reports, direct marketing, and new media.

Whether you're going for a highly conceptual presentation, a cool and sophisticated feel, or a classic execution, this book is the go-to resource for high-quality brochure design at its very best.

Customer Reviews:

The Best of Brochure Design .07.......2007-07-03

I bought this book to keep for myself, after borrowing a copy from my local library and exhausting my renewal opportunties. It is basically a gallery of highly professional brochure designs, beautifully presented with a strong emphasis on layout. Of particular value, from my perspective, was the inclusion of software used in producing most of the brochure designs. It is an excellent resource for any one interested in graphic art and digital design and a great book to keep for inspiration and frequent reference.

Great Design Reference.......2007-06-27

This is an extremely useful design reference for art directors/graphic designers. Although I do have to admit that it isn't as well rounded as I thought it would be. I have to agree with one of the other reviewers about designs that are more organic or traditional being omitted. However, for all those who are need reference for modern and contemporary design for brochures, you need look no further.

very usefull.......2006-11-04

very good book about graphic design and in particulary about brochure.
You can find very good and inspiring ideas.

Cutting-edge design is not the only design.......2005-02-11

This book features virtually no organic styles or traditional layouts. I felt the designs were very corporate, cold and modern Euro-looking, which I find has limited application for inspiring the type of design work I do (luxury goods branding and design). I did go through the book very thoroughly.

If you're looking for a broad range of styles (traditional and organic styles included) this isn't the book for you.

In general, Wilson Harvey books are great, but usually follow the above pattern.

beautiful, inspirational, educational.......2005-01-18

If you're expecting the equivalent of a text book telling you how to be a graphic designer, you bought the wrong book. And truthfully, I doubt that book exists. This book is the gorgeous and features the best informative graphic design (brochures) in the world. A must-have for every graphic designer.

Book Description

From painters’ lofts and bohemian haunts in the Greenwich Village of the 1950s to funky clubs and Bowery bars like the Five Spot, jazz musician David Amram retraces in this engaging memoir the creative paths he followed through restless days and long, exhilarating nights with his collaborator and friend Jack Kerouac. With candor and humor, Amram re-creates the moments that shaped a mutually stimulating relationship—like the jazz-poetry reading, the first ever in New York, he performed with Kerouac, whose On the Road had recently made him an overnight literary success; or like the 1959 film, Pull My Daisy, they hilariously made with fellow Beats Allen Ginsberg, Gregory Corso, Peter Orlovsky, and Larry Rivers. Amram illuminates the private side of Kerouac, too, his extraordinary intellect and his ardent pursuit of music and literature long after the critics had turned on him and many of his old friends had abandoned him. Among the last of a generation that altered the style and substance of the arts in its time, Amram also celebrates in this at once wise and affecting book the renascence of interest in Kerouac’s work three decades after his death. For the beat indeed goes on. And so does the collaboration.

Customer Reviews:

Offbeat.......2007-02-23

The book title is concise. Accurate. David Amram composes and conducts an upbeat validation of the raw and beautiful Jack Kerouac and was there as a friend when Jack died in his literal and literary arms. Amram is a true friend to art and on of the few men I can personally call a role model for modern times. Amram's first book, out of print, but readily available, is titled Vibrations. Vibrations is a symphony of the first 50 years of David's collaborative life. David cleaned up his eating act and has lived to tell the amazing stories of those who died soooo young from internal and external abuse. Blow, Davey blow your horn.

thomasjohnmiller
(February 22, 2007, comment written in Bellingham, Washington)

"OFFBEAT" IS ON TARGET!.......2002-09-08

This book has been sorely needed for a long time. David Amram, composer, conductor and player of a vast array of insturments and musical styles is literally one of the hardest working people in the music business. Somehow, he found the time to write an incredibly detailed account of what creative life was like in New York in the 1950s and 60s. Not only does he recount specific events, such as the making of the film "Pull My Daisy" and the first-ever jazz-poetry collaboration in New York, he has also recalled conversations that took place while those events were going on. He also gives us enthusiastic accounts of the many events inspired by Jack Kerouac and his work since the writer's death in 1969; events that show the wide-ranging influence Kerouac has had on contemporary culture. Just as important, Amram has also successfully dispelled what he calls the "Beatnik Myth" that for years portrayed Kerouac and cohorts as something completely different than what they were. (The story Amram relays about the day Jack died, in which reporters badgered him and others with inane questions about the "King of the Beats" illustrates the tragic way Kerouac was thought of and treated.)

Many of the great musical and literary personalities of the mid-20th Century are mentioned and quoted in this work, ranging from Leonard Bernstein, to Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie and Thelonious Monk all the way to the composer Edgar Varese and conductor Dimitri Mitropoulos, Amram's mentor and Bernstein's predecessor as conductor of the New York Philharmonic. They all add a great deal of color to the narrative, which can be as exhilarating a read as Kerouac's fantastic trip across America in "On the Road".

Not only is Amram one of the hardest working people in the music biz, he's also one of the nicest and most gracious. It was a great pleasure and honor to have met him during a concert and at a reading of OFFBEAT this past spring. For anyone even mildly interested in Kerouac and his contemporaries, this is THE book to read, written by someone who was there. And after reading it, you may be MORE than mildly interested in Jack Kerouac, a man who truly was an original.

Self-congratulatory blarney, but sweet, somehow.......2002-09-01

For a substantial number of non-aficionados, David Amram's name is familiar today only from a line in a Rafi song for small children. But Amram has an impressive resume that includes entries as a classical composer of concert and film music (his score for The Manchurian Candidate has been justly praised) and as a bop French hornist who played with Mingus, Gillespie,Taylor and many others. I have long admired Amram's touching and understated violin sonata, of which there is, lamentably, no recording available at present. Amram was also a good buddy and frequent collaborator of Jack Kerouac's, and his new memoir "Offbeat" is a good natured-if highly repetitive and self-congratulatory-record of a number of Thunderbird wine-soaked experiences among "the beats."

My placement within scare quotes of the common term for beret-covered, bongo-carrying, scat-singing, goatee-wearing bohemians is highly advised, since Amram repeatedly insists that there never were any such animals. In fact, it is perhaps the main tenet of this book that Kerouac was a writer, pure and simple, and that the only part of the beat mythology with any grain of truth is that Kerouac and his friends Allen Ginsburg, Neal Cassady, Gregory Corso and David Amram, were precursors of flower children in being particularly gentle and constitutionally opposed to formality or exclusivity. In all other respects, at least according to Amram, Kerouac was just a slightly tipsy version of Melville or Emerson who is finally receiving from critics and academia his long-denied coronation as a towering genius of American Literature.

Offbeat contains a number of incongruities that are common to this type of work. Each of the dozen ingredients of a certain (now 50-year-old) omelet is recounted with precision, and entire conversations and minor details of late night jazz-poetry events from the 50's are set forth in detail, but where, when or exactly how Amram became Kerouac's collaborator/muse never comes to light.

In addition, there seems an almost painful desperation for Mr. Amram to get his "creds" into public view. Apparently sensing that he could tell us only so many times (three, I believe) that his prior book, Vibrations, contains 465 pages, and that he has written over 100 orchestral works, he frequently puts this sort of information in the mouths of others. At one point, poet Frank O'Hara, who is trying to ease Amram's disappointment at failing to get a Kerouac/Amram improv gig at the Museum of Modern Art in 1957, provides the following consoling remarks:

"Do it downtown where you're already loved. It was a mistake for me to try to break down the wall s of pretension here at the Museum. When you get better known, they'll fawn and grovel over you...at least until you fall out of fashion. Do it downtown. Let's try the Brata Art Gallery on East 10th Street. You've already played for their art openings, David. [so maybe I don't really need to tell you the address?] The artists all remember you from your stint this past winter at the Five Spot with your quartet. They know your scores for the Free Shakespeare in the Park you just started composing [because they're precognitive when it comes to their adoration of your work?], and they've heard you with Mingus."

This kind of thing is repeated endlessly throughout Offbeat-both in the pages of reminiscinces of his performances and conversations with Kerouac and in the later sections, which deal mostly with events undertaken in the writer's honor. An unwelcome pathos accompanies Amram's successive pleas that the reader engage in something akin to this mantra: "They were smart! They were serious about our art and could discuss it intelligently! They weren't anything like Maynard G. Krebs!" Everyone's wife is beautiful and gracious, everyone's daughter is devoted. Worst of all, each new Amram composition or improv and every Kerouac scat (we are given no transcriptions of these, unfortunately) is said to be a masterpiece of its type. Every performance is hailed as phenomenal, extraordinary, life altering. This aspect is exaggerated by over-the-top cover blurbs from Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Carolyn Cassady, and Frank McCourt-three individuals who are heaped with garlands within the pages of Offbeat.

In spite of all these shortcomings, however, it's hard not to like both Amram and his portrayal of the "beat" scene. Amram is obviously a sweetheart whose hyperbole can be traced in equal parts to a child-like sincerity and to his devotion to a talented friend who was lost to him in tragic fashion. Several recollections in the book are great fun, especially Amram's recounting of the cuckoo creation of the silent film Pull My Daisy, which consisted largely of the trashing of a New York City apartment to the accompaniment of Amram's music and Kerouac's improvised narration. Allen Ginsburg is affectionately portrayed as a bit of a left-wing scold, and Gregory Corso comes off as a horny, wisecracking commentator on contemporary mores, something like a poetic precursor to Seinfeld. Amram paints Kerouac as diffident about everything except his talents. When filmmaker Alfred Leslie asks him how he can be sure that his first improvisatory narration to Pull My Daisy can't be improved upon, the novelist answers, "Because I'm touched by the hand of God." Amram makes a credible case for their joint spontaneous creation of "poetry-and-music" sessions in the mid-50's being the basis not only of rap and hip hop music but of spoken word events and poetry slams.

Now in his seventies, Amram remains a tireless performer, composer and storyteller, but without more recordings of his work, his light could fade. Even so, it will never go completely out. There's just too much talent, love and chutzpah in both the composer of In Our Land and the author of On the Road for either man to cease to inspire those who will take the time to listen, who will look closely for the diamonds lying deep within the sidewalks of Old Manhattoes.

Amram Is Amazing!.......2002-01-07

Dave Amram passionately evokes in his newest book the rhythms and poetic vibes of his life all the while casting to the four winds the much misaligned "beatnik myth" that plagued Jack Kerouac's life and stigmatized his art. Through Amram's sound recollections, Kerouac's legacy as an artist resounds with the exclusive atmosphere that is also conducive, even to this day, to the heart and soul of Amram's classical compositions and world-wide performances. It is a testament written from a contemporary of Kerouac's that celebrates the efforts of those fascinating artists of the post-WWII years consisting of Jack Kerouac, Gregory Corso, Allen Ginsberg, Robert Frank, Philip Lamantia and Dody Muller (as well as a host of others). We are there at the first jazz/poetry reading in NYC in 1956, the filming of Pull My Daisy in 1959, the last years of Jack Kerouac's life in the late 1960s until the posthumous aftermath that gradually began to realize the literary merit of Kerouac's art that today firmly places him within the canon of American Literature along side Hemingway, Poe, Melville and Twain. Kerouac is not so much eulogized in this memoir as he is painted humanly as the soulful cat he was celebrating life the best way he knew how, in his books. Despite telling Amram in July 1968 that "fame is a drag to anybody who wants new work done", Kerouac intuitively sensed the longevity of his life's work would outlast his own years dogged by the fame he no longer wanted. The same can be said for David Amram whose own art is vital to the understanding and appreciation of post-WWII American culture in symphonic, jazz, global and folk music. Pick up this book today for a breath of fresh Kerouacian air . . . .

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