writing, odds and ends

I read a cartload since my last blog entry. First, I read Rigadet's famous novel, Le diable au corps. Turns out this is a fairly standard sexual awakening story, of a male teenager having an affair with someone's wife. She dies at the end. I then read Allison Plowden's biography of Queen Henrietta Maria -- I didn't realize that she had headed some armies during the run-up to the Civil War in England. Plowden strives to be chatty, I find it detracts from the seriousness and insight of a biography, although the queen certainly comes to life. I also read the transcribed conferences by Andre Maurois on three noblewomen: the Duchess of Devonshire, the Countess of Albany, and Madame. It was forgettable and pretty short. I read Madame de Lafayette's memoir of Madame, the sister-in-law of Louis XIV. She seems an affable person who bore well her travails, including being married to a gay guy. It was interesting to read something written by someone who actually knew her. I read some chapters on Maser's life of Hitler, which continues to impress me greatly, as well as a good book on an awful subject, lingchi or Death by a Thousand Cuts by Brooke, Bourgon and Blue. This is about the method of execution in classical China, used right up to 1905, and the perceptions of cruelty in China. I read three books on writing, one by Dorothea Brande -- good, but I'm past that stage of becoming self-aware. Another was called Elements of Storytelling, by Peter Rubie, and I didn't even finish it, it was so badly written and unimaginative. A third, called Self-Editing for Writers, by Browne and King, was excellent. It gave examples drawn from life (the authors have editing firms, which means that this was a long self-advertisement), as well as examples of what not to do written by the authors themselves. It answered some questions I had about texture and proportion, and how to break up dialogue, that I had on my mind now that I'm writing a novel. Finally, I started reading Stiff, by Mary Roach. It is not a good book, written in too jocular a fashion, and covering ground (OK, about cadavers) I already knew about.