Jackson is a great human and a stellar poet, and so I decided to review their new collection I Am A Human for the Unity Books Auckland website (oh yeah, by the way, we have one of those now, look at all those titles and think about the fact that aaaaall those titles were loaded manually, with at least 600 loaded by yours truly).Continue reading review — i am a human being
A change is as good as a rest, or so ‘they’ say. And sometimes it’s all you have to work with. So here we are.
Maybe you came here from my previous blog/website, maybe from Twitter, maybe from some strange Googling (god knows what your search terms were). Either way, here you are, here I am, I’ll write some words, you can read them if you like.
So that’s the online presence change. At the same time, I’m shifting cities (bit exciting, bit bittersweet, bit banal – heading home, after all) and starting a new job. The job’s the really wild thing. I’ve worked in bookshops since I was sixteen. Now – or in the last week of January, when I start – I’m a writer. Writing things for businesses and charities and people – writing. I’ve done a lot of writing within my bookshop work, and I’ve freelanced here and there, but now I am going to be doing it full time.
This, of course, is super exciting. But the side step from the book trade is also something strange to deal with. I’ll have to actively seek out what’s new and interesting, rather than stare at a sub sheet or NTI flyer. I’ll have to find books myself, whether through bookstores or libraries or friends – I won’t have reading copies at my beck and call. I’m going to have to put in effort, and I’m actually really excited about that. I’m going to have to think about my reading consumption, for my own benefit.
So I’m planning on writing more about books, in earnest. Since I’ll no longer have the ‘product knowledge’ reason to devour books, I want to be sure that I don’t let my reading slip by the wayside – and the same goes for reviewing. So here we are, first week of the new year, with my literary leanings taking a new shape. I’ve set a Goodreads goal of 100 books, but I really hope (and think) I can beat that. I’ll try to write at least in passing about most of the things that I take on – so stay tuned.
I’ve been so dreadful at maintaining this lately. Life is busy, and it’s winter. Combine those two things with an eternally uncooperative immune system and chronic blah-blah-blah and I’ve been pretty exhausted when I’ve been in a position to write things. Which is a pain, both for my disposable income and my general creative juices.
So, an update:
In curly health news! I have written a thing for the Crohn’s & Colitis NZ website about my experience living with IBD. I also spoke last week at a meeting of Inner Wheel (a women’s branch of Rotary), along with Brian Poole, the chairman of CCNZ, about my experiences with Crohn’s and associated shenanigans. It was rather lovely, actually – and I won the raffle, which was a bonus.
In book news! I have been reading SO MUCH GOOD STUFF. The Man Booker Longlist has some excellent heft to it this year. I adored The Chimes, by very lovely kiwi Anna Smaill , and hope like hell that it wins – but at the same time, A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara is astounding. I haven’t felt that torn apart by a book in a long time – possibly ever. Part of me thinks that Yanagihara might be the first person to take the Booker, Pulitzer and the Bailey’s (formerly Orange) prizes. It’s only the second year that a person could really be eligible for all three. Maybe we should have a draw for the Booker and Bailey’s? Could we do that?
Of the ‘Booker dozen’ I have also read Lila by Marilynne Robinson, which was also excellent. I’ve also got Anne Enright’s The Green Road on my bedside stack, but after I’ve wrangled that one, I might wait until the shortlist is announced, just to pare down my list a little.
I’ve been continuing my radio reviews, still primarily on Newstalk ZB, but I’ve nipped over to Radio NZ once, and will hopefully do so again. So far, I’ve talked about The Mime Order (as previously mentioned), Aquarium by David Vann, The Reader on the 6.27 by Jean-Paul Didierlaurent, The Villa at the Edge of the Empire by Fiona Farrell, The Age of Earthquakes by Douglas Coupland and, most recently, Mislaid by Nell Zink. All have been excellent, and have provoked interesting discussion in the studio. I’ll try to do some written bits and pieces on at least some of them at some point.
I’m also trying to stay on top of NZ books, naturally, and am about to get back into The Pale North by Hamish Clayton, after putting it on a brief hiatus while getting on top of things needing review or other immediate attention. I’ve also recently gotten through New Hokkaido by James McNaughton and The Predictions by Bianca Zander – and the previously mentioned The Chimes and The Villa at the Edge of the Empire are both NZ books too.
The second Rat Queens trade is out, and I’m verrrry slowly working my way through it, so as to make it last as long as possible.
And, most recently, I’ve just finished Margaret Atwood’s forthcoming novel The Heart Goes Last. Which I have mixed feelings on. I enjoyed it – I just didn’t adore it as much as I’d hoped I would. Again, I’ll try to write something of more substance soon. I think I was – we all were – spoiled with the expansive world and characters created in the Maddaddam trilogy – but The Heart Goes Last is standalone and tops out at just over 300 pages, and is accordingly much more limited in its scope.
My to-do list is full of exciting things. The Enright, I’ve already mentioned. I also have an ARC of the new Jonathan Franzen, which will be interesting as I’ve never actually done any Franzen before. But I’ve been hearing immensely good things. I still need to get around to reading my work-birthday-present book, Between You & Me by Mary Norris, which promises to be delightful. I also still need to bash through The Art of Asking out of a sense of curiosity and nostalgia. And there are a million other things on my to-do pile, but to try to note them all would be a waste of everyone’s time. Suffice it to say that I’ll get there, one day.
Also, in book/writing news, I wrote the content for the latest Unity newsletter, which was deeply satisfying to see come to fruition (I’d managed to forget the joys of the print production process already, but it was good to be reminded of how things operate). It’s all online in PDF form now, but you can also grab a print copy if you’re in Wellington or Auckland.
That ‘update’ turned much more in-depth than I’d intended. Ah, well. Consider yourselves informed.
Here’s my latest review for Booksellers NZ. I felt a very deep connection with elements of this book – a memoir/essay collection/non-fiction wonderland focusing on chronic pain. Stephanie’s own experiences are at once entirely different and so very familiar to my own. Every page held a combination of new understanding of both the experiences of others and how to put into words my own experiences.
I fought the urge to make the review entirely third person without my own involvement, because it’s the sort of book that you are automatically involved in, whether you yourself have experienced pain of this sort or not. It’s informative where it’s not relatable. It’s a book that could play an important role in the understand the experience of others. It’s just a damn good book, too.
Here’s the first snippet.
A review should, as a rule, be an impersonal thing. But occasionally a book falls into your hands that resounds with you in such a tortuously familiar way that it’s impossible not to feel your own related experiences playing in the background as your read. With that in mind, this is a review of Stephanie de Montalk’s How Does It Hurt?, my reading of which was underpinned by my own experiences with chronic pain and illness and the medical world.
The rest can be read on the Booksellers NZ blog.
I also had my latest radio review today, which I will link to when the audio clip is up. The book in question this time around was Aquarium by David Vann, and it was altogether excellent. More on that later, hopefully!
I’m currently working on a few long-ish form book reviews for a couple of places – and when those are complete, I will link to them here – but in the meantime, here is a link I meant to post a few weeks back. My first radio review – simultaneously nerve-wracking and fun. These will be cropping up every six-ish weeks, as Tilly and I swap from session to session. Since I’ve previously reviewed The Bone Season here, it only made sense to make sure my review for its sequel ended up on here too, regardless of the different format!
It began in an unassuming fashion. He who I have called Batman here once or twice thought it would be a good idea to go through the Rotten Tomatoes Top 100 of All Time list and see what we (read: mostly I) hadn’t seen. And this selection would become a list of films to watch over the coming months.
Batman studied theatre and film at university and is a playwright and general writerly person on things theatrical. Let me just clear that up. I have an English degree and my entire adult life has been spent in bookshops. (This is me illustrating a clear difference in our backgrounds that will come back to bite me as this post goes on.)
Mercifully, I had seen #1 on the list – The Wizard of Oz. “Citizen Kane?”
“You haven’t seen Citizen Kane?”
“I’ve seen most of it.”
“The Third Man?”
“…I haven’t seen any Orson Welles.”
“You know he didn’t direct it, right?”
Grimly, we continued. We got to The Gold Rush. “You haven’t seen it?!”
“I haven’t heard of it.”
“It’s Charlie Chaplin!”
“I’ve never seen anything with Charlie Chaplin.”
Shocked and appalled would be the right descriptor, I think.
“You’ve never seen anything with Charlie Chaplin. Or Buster Keaton?”
“That’s like… not having read any Dickens.”
…I haven’t read any Dickens, either.”
Yes. It’s true. I have an English degree, coming up on eight years working in bookshops and I just spent the last year studying publishing. And I have never read anything by Charles Dickens.
Or Jane Austen.
Or Herman Melville.
Or Ernest Hemingway.
Or Kurt Vonnegut.
Or countless other ‘classic’ authors who, depending on your personal tastes and views, would horrify you, my literary readers.
And I’m torn between being totally okay with that and wanting to mend my ways.
I can understand Batman’s surprise that I hadn’t read any Dickens at my (admittedly very privileged and posh) school – but we actually read very little in terms of ‘classics’, except for Shakespeare (and Katherine Mansfield) – most of what I read was written post-70s. I was vocal in my view, in conversation with Batman, that Katherine Mansfield was far more important to the NZ high school English programme than Dickens or his ilk (Batman himself never did Mansfield at school). Pioneer of the modern short story? Kickass female author who came from Wellington?
Yeah. Mansfield. No contest.
The argument for wanting to ‘mend my ways’ that I wish to immediately tear down is one of a sort of cultural or literary obligation. There are too many books in the world that are Good and On My To-Do List for me to feel shame for not having covered them all. And too many of those ‘classic’ books are by white men. We all know that, by now. The modern literary canon is evolving beautifully, but when one stomps back through the puddles of the classics, it is SO drenched in privileged Y chromosomes that you just want to give up. Obviously there are exceptions – the Austens of the world, and such – but that’s a whole other BBC-dramatized kettle of fish to deal with.
The ‘mending my ways’ comes more out of the genuine recommendations that I get from people. Batman is a big fan of Vonnegut, and is keen for me to read some, not from a “so you’ll have read some Vonnegut” perspective, but rather a “because it’s actually really very good, and I think you’ll like it” perspective. If someone will personally recommend a classic to me, I’m not going to jerk away just because it’s older than The Luminaries. I just don’t feel as if every single book on those Top However Many Books Of All Time* lists are necessarily going to be up my alley. 99% of people I interact with seem to love Breaking Bad – I just don’t get it. Sometimes, there will be books that I just don’t get. So feel free to tell me that Middlemarch is amazing, or that nothing will every compare to Wuthering Heights. If I trust your opinion, I’ll roll with it.
As for the being totally okay with it end of things, that seems pretty clear, right? I’m a young woman living in a city brimming with new literature – AND I work in a bookshop (one that hosts a tonne of launches, to boot). I am constantly inundated with new suggestions of what to read – from co-workers, from reps, from customers. I am tantalised by covers of new releases on a daily basis. And new release books tend to sit higher up on the Eternal To-Do List than older titles, because of the whole bookseller business. New books mean publicity mean people are asking about THOSE books more often. So it pays to be up-to-date.
Which does lead to an interesting segue, though… but one for another time. Recommending books (as a bookseller) when you haven’t read them. Lord know I know more about the average book than most people, but that certainly does not mean that I’m more likely to have read it. I’m professionally good at rehashing other people’s opinions, I guess, and reading reviews and blurbs like a champion. But I’ll elaborate on that later. Another time. New year, more posts, and all that.
As you were, readers.
*Despite my supposed disdain for such lists, there is still obviously a place and time for them on occasion – and with movie lists, as mentioned at the beginning of the post, it seems a little more doable since you aren’t committing as much time. Just so that I don’t seem like a total hypocrite in one post, you know?
Working on various reviews at the moment (bit overworked and overwrought to pour enough energy into any single title at a time right now) but if you’d like to have a glance at things that I’ve been up to at the moment in The Real World, here links to (and snippets from) my last couple of event write-ups for Unity Books.
Omar Musa visited us for his first event outside of Australia. Review and photos by yours truly. We cranked (shop-appropriate) rap tracks and made stupid/hilarious “here comes the dog!” jokes with regard to Tilly’s naughty but loved (or at least tolerated, by some) pup Rhon.
His language was colourful (‘Sorry for swearing so much – actually, I’m not sorry at all.’) and hilarious (‘I think I should get a writer’s residency at Queanbeyan McDonalds.’) while the passages he read from Here Come The Dogs varied from beautiful to brutal. He did not shy away from any of the questions asked by the crowd, recounting various tales of his past and the writing experience, including his shenanigans while spending time with Irvine Welsh.
And a couple of days later, it was National Poetry Day! Cue excitement across the city (and country)! Apparently there were poets doing poetic things on buses – sadly my route was not one of them, but still! Bringing magic to the people. Nice stuff, Wellington. We had seven VUP poets performing, and the turnout was INSANE. I love Wellingtonians. I trekked around the crowd and listened and loved and am really excited about working the launch for one of them (Frances Samuel) in the next couple of weeks.
In our books, there is perhaps no finer day of celebration than National Poetry Day. And this year, we were thrilled to mark the day with a lunchtime event in association with Victoria University Press. Seven VUP poets performed for crowd that grew and grew as the readings went on – across the store, people could be seen turning their attention from cookbooks and photography collections to the writers at the mic.
There’s a reason why my current Twitter bio is ‘I go to a lot of book launches’.
I love it, though.
Book Awards write-up coming. Internal conflicts regarding future bookish plans stewing.
This has been your captain speaking, we hope you have enjoyed this flight of fancy.
Here’s a little book related denouement, to follow up the emotionally-fraught time that was last night. Since we all know that books are what I do best.
What am I reading at the moment, you may wonder? Well, it’s never as simple as answering with a one-title response. I am in the process of working my way through :
- Unspeakable Secrets of the Aro Valley by Danyl McLauchlan*
- Beautiful Ruins by Jess Walter
- The Fault in Our Stars by John Green**
- The Extraordinary Adventures of Adele Blanc-Sec Vol. 2 by Jacques Tardi
- Speaker for the Dead by Orson Scott Card***
There are also a fair few books on my shelves/piles that have bookmarks at a partway point, but that I am not currently actively engaging in, so to speak. They are the next tier to work my way through.
*Ought to finish it before I start my work placement at VUP. Really good, just a little slow going.
** Re-reading. Because, you know, movie. And also I just need a little John Green in my life every now and then.
*** I have a lot of feelings about OSC & his books, and I will write a post about them at some point.
I’m on a real graphic novel kick at the moment, after finishing reading the first Sandman bind-up… but I decided to branch out from pure Gaiman, and test the waters of other areas. Since I thoroughly enjoyed the Adele Blanc-Sec movie, I figured that the graphic novels would be a fine choice – and so far, so good. I have been meaning to re-read Scott Pilgrim, but since that has a very specific connection to That Which I Am Moving On From In All Ways, I’m not sure if that would be sensible to do right now. The last thing I need is good books/movies/memories being ruined by my current feelings regarding the person in question. So maybe the Bryan Lee O’Malley material is off the cards for a while.
Per the John Green mention, you can probably gather that I’m not entirely removed from my YA phase of late – and after spending a fair while today trotting around the kids and teen sections at work, shelving and book-lookin’, it seems unlikely to change any time soon – there’s always something new that I notice and leaf through and want to devour. Relating back to yesterday’s post somewhat, I really do wish that I had a bit of Olive-style company for many reasons, but one of which is certainly to be able to have someone to read gorgeous beautiful books with.
That’s probably a combination of specific child missing, and general mid-20s cluckiness.
I hope you are all reading wonderful things as well. If you aren’t, rectify this immediately. Go to your local indie bookshop and get a recommendation. Buy a book. Make the publishing world turn.
It is telling that the one poem that I can always remember from my first year of primary school is as follows –
Read, read, read.
The more you read
The more you knowThe more you know
The more you grow
So read, read, read!
Surprise surprise, right? I didn’t choose the book life, the book life chose me, yadda yadda. I acknowledge that I had a privileged childhood in that regard, growing up in houses full of books, walking past a library every day in my formative years. And though, it’s not exactly a requirement of such an upbringing that you end up with books on the brain every waking moment… here I am. Even as I carry my Kobo with me everywhere, there is almost always at least one physical book in my bag with me too (Zac & Mia by A.J. Betts, for any interested parties – a ‘sick-lit’ YA piece is probably forthcoming) – it’s just a way of life. Wallet, phone, keys, Kobo, notebook, real book. Life’s essentials.
But what I thought would be interesting to mention is a few moments in my personal back catalogue where I have been Anti-Book. By which I mean Anti-Specific-Book, of course – but still, they are noteworthy enough events that I still remember them vividly. And I will leave out most of the ‘ehhh, can I be bothered?’ moments that occurred during my English degree, because I was ill and tired and depressed and many other things that weren’t conducive to reading beyond my own specific selection of titles.
Here we go.
2001, my first year at intermediate – more importantly, I suppose, my first year at a very posh, very proper, very high achieving private school. None of this was too terrible – I was a high achiever myself, back in the day – but it meant that sometimes there were moments of more… traditional books than I was perhaps interested in. My primary school days were filled with Margaret Mahy and Joy Cowley and every other glorious NZ writer for children and young people – I was never a fan of books that I saw as ‘old-fashioned’, like Enid Blyton. I also had a ten year old’s resolve that war was idiotic and there was no reason for it and anyone who wrote or said anything about it was stupid.
And so it was that I launched my first act of academic rebellion, when we were set The Silver Sword by Ian Serraillier. Which, if you haven’t read it, is about children fleeing Warsaw in WWII (if memory serves). So it was about war, and it was OLD. It was basically everything I theoretically despised in a book, and I was having none of it. So I didn’t read it. We were supposed to be doing an on-going project – double page spreads for each chapter, illustrations – the whole shebang. I refused. I stood my ground. I… eventually relented, after getting in trouble with both my teacher and my mum – but I wasn’t happy about it. I skimmed the book, made faces while working on my intentionally subpar assignment. Such was my First Act Of Waywardness.
The Second Act Of Waywardness was less my own fault and more the fault of a teacher who just didn’t have an inspirational bone in her body. But still, it’s shameful to reflect on. You see, in Year 11 (that’s about the equivalent of a high school sophomore, for you Americans who occasionally pop up here), I had my first brush with Katherine Mansfield.
And I HATED it.
In hindsight, it really taught me a lot about how important the role of the teacher is, and how some people just… shouldn’t. Katherine Mansfield is one of my favourite authors these days. She is a literary a role model, not to mention a sassy lady, and she rocked a great bob. I realised the error of my ways two years later, in Year 13 English when we studied some of her other stories, under the guidance of a better equipped teacher – and to my amazement, suddenly the words were beautiful, and I no longer hated the name Kezia with a burning passion. Revisiting The Doll’s House was a revelation, and I haven’t looked back – my most recent tattoo idea currently brewing is actually a Mansfield reference. I get happy every time I walk past the KM statue on Lambton Quay, even if it does remind a little of the Other Mother in Coraline.
Those are the two memories that stand out, in terms of Briar Against The World. I suppose you could add to that the fact that I have an English degree, seven years working in bookstores and exactly zero experience reading Jane Austen, apart from the first chapter or two of Pride & Prejudice many a time. There was also the time in my first year of university when I took a second year Shakespearean tragedy course and never quite got around to reading any of the plays at the right time – and still managing to pull a B on the exam with my four essays encompassing King Lear (which I’d fortunately studied the year before), Othello (which I’d studied the year before that – so quotes were a little thinner on the ground), Hamlet (which I hadn’t actually ever read, and pretty much based my points on general knowledge and The Simpsons episode “Tales From The Public Domain”, featuring their retelling of the story), Anthony & Cleopatra (which I based entirely on actual historical knowledge, not the play at all), and, perhaps most impressively, managed to eke out a page and a bit on The Duchess of Malfi (this was an ‘Age of Shakespeare’ course rather than exclusively the Bard himself), with my only knowledge of anything to do with the play being societal context and a Helen Mirren quote stating “It is essentially a feminist play”.
I confess it – I’m a bad book brat, at times.
But we all have our moments, right? And if our bad moments are slightly salvaged by Helen Mirren quotes, so much the better.
Well, it’s the first day in a year that I don’t have to post on here, and yet here I am! You haven’t gotten rid of me yet, internet.
I will at some stage compile a bit of a collection of my favourite picks from the 365 pieces project – though if any of you have any particular favourites from them, do let me know! I’m definitely interested to know what readers have to say, rather than just my highfalutin feelings.
On the subject of readers, though, that leads me onto my new ‘project’, though less official than my previous one, since I’m planning on giving myself a little more creative flexibility this year, in terms of specific output. However, I’m still a reader, a listener, a consumer of art and media and entertainment. And I feel like I have not paid proper attention to these areas on this blog, especially considering that was what I originally intended this to be.
So each week, for the most part, there will be at least one review posted here. The emphasis will be on books, but if I am in the middle of something and don’t wish to distract myself – or if something amazing comes into my ears and/or eyes , it may well be interposed with music and film and even TV reviews, because why limit myself, am I right?
As a bookseller/buyer/soon-to-be-publisher-in-training/writer/generally bibliophile, I always have a ridiculous number of books either on the go, or on my to-do list. One only need check out my GoodReads account for that – and that doesn’t even contain all of the madness, since I don’t keep it totally up-to-date with my Kobo readings too. And most of my books are still boxed up from my move, so the only ones I have around are more recent acquisitions/ones that were shelved in strange places.
But here’s a cursory list of what I’m in the middle of, or have at least started (excluding re-reads… Suzanne Collins and Tamora Pierce are like comfort food, okay?)
– The Great Gatsby – F. S. Fitzgerald (I know, I know, most people read this when they’re 15 in high school, but we didn’t, sorry ’bout it).
– Allegiant – Veronica Roth (already finished Divergent and Insurgent, but will review them all together)
– The Casual Vacancy – J.K. Rowling (way overdue)
– Alias Grace – Margaret Atwood (I have started this book SO MANY times. I don’t know what it is about it. But I’m determined to persevere)
– The Sandman – Preludes and Nocturnes – Neil Gaiman (also way overdue. I feel like a fake Gaiman-fiend, but I’m remedying it!)
– The Gift – Lewis Hyde (the only NF title on this list – Eleanor Catton referred to it in her Booker acceptance speech, and then I saw that Margaret Atwood wrote the introduction… sold!)
– Snake Ropes – Jess Richards (a publisher rep or a review or something recommended this book as excellent for people who like Margaret Atwood. So I bought it, obviously.)
– The Twelve – Justin Cronin (so far taking longer for me to power through than The Passage did, but still proving worthwhile, bit by bit)
– Unspeakable Secrets of the Aro Valley – Danyl McLauchlan (NZ author, really good so far, just need to push distractions aside!
And here’s the vague to-read list, as it stands (see the photo at the top for appearances of a fair few of these…) The links are becoming a bit draining, so I will leave you to do your own searches on them, should you wish to investigate further.
– The Goldfinch – Donna Tartt (actually, I should really review The Secret History, since I read that recently, hmm)
– The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo – Stieg Larsson (I was a 18 y.o. semi-hipster lit student working in a chain bookstore when this was at peak popularity, so naturally I avoided it at all costs. Having enjoyed both adaptations, I’m going to give it a go)
– Speaker for the Dead – Orson Scott Card (even though OSC’s a pretty awful person, I did really enjoy Ender’s Game, so I kind of want to pursue the series further)
– Infinite Jest – David Foster Wallace (just because)
– Cloud Atlas – David Mitchell (sounds a bit trippy and fairly good)
– On The Road – Jack Kerouac (left my original Popular Penguin somewhere in Brooklyn, I think, so am starting from square one, only, err, four and a half years later?)
– Howl, Kaddish and Other Poems – Allen Ginsberg (been on my to-do list for ages, thanks Book Depository sale!)
– The Flood – Maggie Gee (#2 book acquired via the Book Depository 25 hour sale – looks cool, will expand later, naturally)
– The Best of H.P. Lovecraft – um, H.P. Lovecraft (lucky last book purchased in the Book Depository sale. Never read any Lovecraft, thought I should fix it. This fairly weighty tome should do the trick!)
– The String Diaries – Stephen Lloyd Jones (advanced reading copy from work that our gen. buyer thought I might like, and still haven’t gotten around to it, but it does sound interesting, so on the list before the move!)
– Persuasion – Jane Austen (because I’m the worst English major ever and have never read any Austen. Several people have told be Persuasion is her best work, so I bought a lovely leather bound copy and hope that aesthetic allure will encourage me.)
– The Murders in the Rue Morgue and Other Tales – Edgar Allan Poe (ridiculously, I’ve never really read any Poe, despite taking a ‘Theory and the Gothic’ course in my final undergrad semester – but then, I was pretty much in max-sickness situation then, so my reading list had more than a few holes in it.
– 1984 – George Orwell (another classic lit hole to fill)
Yeah. I’m a bit all over the place. Any recommendations are more than welcome – I love love love making new discoveries, so bring a little joy to my life!