As all her loyal readers know, Jen Mann is never late with her reviews so where, you ask, is it? Well, it did a disappearing trick and decided to explore the world of cyberspace, which segues beautifully into her book choice for this week, “Plum Spooky” by Janet Evanovich, a story about, in Jen’s words, “Who stole this and kidnapped whom and shot who with what?”

Stephanie Plum is not an Existentialist.  She does not give much thought to the world at large and her place in it.  If she accepts fate, it is with regard to the inevitability of dinner at her family’s house.

She is more of a bull-by-the horns type of gal.  She jumps right in to situations and we love her for it.

The passion and rioutous adventures that plague her life are a joy for us all.  She would definitely be more of an objectivist.  If birthday cake will make her happy, she will eat it.

Just when we thought we were beginning to understand the sorts of book Jen likes, she throws a curve ball with,”Good Book: The Bizarre, Hilarious,Disturbing, Marvelous, and Inspiring Things I learned When I Read Every Single Word of The Bible” by David Plotz.  Forgive us, but it seemed appropriate to leave publication of her thoughts about reading a book about reading The Bible until Sunday

I regard this as a slightly inane Cliff Notes for the Bible.  It was everything he found it to be and his book follows suit.  It is very interesting, slightly irreverent, and clever.

Jen has this habit of selecting “Must Read” books and without hesitation, we join her this week in heartily recommending, “The Glass Castle,” by Jeannette Walls. In terms of a real-life story of beating incedible odds told without a trace of self-pity, it is, to quote Jen, “an example to us all.”

If I ever meet the parents of Jeannette Walls, I am going to have a chat with them … in this world or the next.  Big time.

Boy, did they tick me off.

Jeannette was raised, with her three siblings, by very interesting, but very selfish people.

She is too nice to hold this against them, but I am not.  Maybe because I have three young children at home, I am easily dismayed by a parents inability to take care of their offspring.

Before I go on, I’ll back up.

Jeannette is a very successful woman.  She is able to look back at her life without rash judgement.  She tells us the true story of her upbringing in various impoverished situations by two people.

Her Mother is a crazy free spirit who believed that her own happiness came before that of her four children. The world owed her. Her children owed her. She was a victim and believed she had no ability to step up and help herself or her family.

Jeannette’s father was a hard-scramble, creative alcoholic, who tried, but failed, to put his children’s needs before his own. At least he tries. He is also supremely screwed-up (I believe this is the scientific term) and fails his family and himself.

Into this fray come four children who are never adequately fed or clothed or sheltered. Homeless is a state of mind the parents embraced. No ties. No responsibility. This was the goal and it was a roaring success. Unless you were a small defenseless child who wanted comfort and security. Gee, who’d want so much?

Jeannette chooses, amazingly admirably, to focus on the positive aspects. There were some remarkably tender moments. One Christmas there are no gifts so her Father takes each child out to look at the night sky. He tells them to pick a star which he then gives to them.

They certainly learned resiliency. They learned how to pick up and keep at it when faced with terrible odds. There was no where to go but up and most of the kids stood up and faced the danger head on. They worked hard. Harder than their parents. They worked and worked and escaped and made solid safe lives for themselves.

I admire the lack of self-pity. When offered nothing they went and got it for themselves. They were not coddled. They were loved but not protected. They all made it on their own terms and if we don’t take our hats off to them we are crazy. “The Glass Castle” represented a dream that Jeannette went out and made for herself.

It should be an example to us all.

Our Jen was—along with (in our unscientific opinion) approximately half the population of the Lymes—sick last week.  We’re so glad to learn that she’s now recovered and here she is back again for your delight with the revealing (and riveting) antithesis to her earlier column on why she reads.

Here is the companion piece to the ever-popular,” Why I Read.”  It is fair to say that many, many people ask me how I have the time and mental where-with-all to read two books a week and review them for your entertainment.  I say I don’t know.  It just fits in somehow.  Like extra piles into the washer.  It’s a mystery, but it works.

Until it doesn’t.  Sometimes, even your fearless book reviewer just can not bring herself to pick one up.  Sometimes she reads some she hates and doesn’t want to review them (sparing you loads of whining.)  Sometimes she lies in the tub and reads Danielle Steele and is embarrassed to review them.  When all these happenings converge you get a perfect vacuum of book reviews.  I know this is momentously hard to overcome for many of you and I apologize for selfishly sapping your will to live but it can not be helped.

To bring some small bit of happiness to you I will tell you the whole unadulterated truth.  I read Margaret Atwood’s newest book, “The Year of The Flood” and disliked it.  It was as depressing as “Oryx and Crake” and it sapped my will to live.  Then I read “House” by Danielle Steele.  That was OK.  Then I read “Kaleidoscope.”  That was too much Danielle Steele for me.  Back-to-back unreality, happy ending and endless cash is too depressing.

Then I started “Crow Planet,” which will be good but made feel bad about the planet going to hell in a hand-basket because I won’t drive a Prius.  So I read “Snow White and The Seven Dwarves,” the original, written and mesmerizingly illustrated by Wanda Ga’g in the 30s.  I also did many crossword puzzles from New York Magazine and read People. And “Clifford’s Halloween.”

I felt much better so I picked up “Swimming with Piranhas at Feeding Time; My Life Doing Dumb Stuff with Animals” by Richard Coniff.  I am only on chapter three and I love it.  He is clever, humorous and brave.  I will review this next week when I finish.

I have today off so I am going to read a new as yet unpublished book that the author handed me yesterday.  I can’t tell you who or what, but stick around … I will.

I thought it only fair to divulge all, so there you have it.

Old Lyme resident Richard Conniff lives the life of which most of us mere mortals can only dream.  He travels to exotic places, meets interesting people … and animals, writes or makes movies about them … and on top of all that, gets paid for doing it.  Jen Mann chose his most recent book as her review pick for this week.

This is very amusing.  I am a big fan of personal essay type books.  The collection of true accounts from Richard Coniff’s bag of tricks is excellent.

Always a fan of Dry Wit, I am thrilled to have found a sizable collection of writings from this intelligent, wildly experienced writer.  After this collection in particular I want to hunt down the rest.  Each chapter is an article slash essay slash short adventure recounting a particular escapade Coniff has had in the wild or with a certain species.

My favorite is without doubt the discussion of zoological identification with particular regard to naming of a species by its discoverer.  Much like Bill Lear (of the jet) naming his daughter Shanda; these men and women have had great fun with the English and Latin languages.  If you are fortunate enough to discover a new species you are allowed to name it.  Coniff’s research into the names chosen by overworked, overwhelmed or just over amusing scientists had me in stitches.

How about the 8,000th beetle you’ve discovered that needs a name?  Ohno.  Or with 1,500 to go?  Agra vation.  Agra phobia.  How about Phthira relativitae?  On the eve of one’s retirement why not throw caution to the winds and go with, Verae peculya, Heerz tooya or Heerz lukenatcha?  Boy have I missed my calling.

Can’t you see me doubled over laughing at my own jokes in a lab somewhere?  Another wonderful chapter is chock full of more things I never knew.  (One could argue that there are many, many such chapters and one would be correct.  (Rude, but correct.)  Why do humans and horseshoe crabs have different blood chemical bases?  Our blood runs red because hemoglobin is an iron-based molecule. Horseshoe crabs have blood that runs blue because hemocyanin is a copper-based molecule. Really, how cool is that? Mother Nature never ceases to totally amaze me.

What other metals are incorporated into varied cellularly similar creatures?  Have you heard of the Justin Schmidt Pain Index?  On a scale of one to four, it rates the pain of insect stings.  I usually use the JPM Index* but his has merit also.  Good to know that a fire ant will cause serious pain for about half an hour and that the Tarantula Hawk Wasp’s sting is best handled by lying down and screaming for the entire three agonizing minutes before it wears off.  A chapter on mosquitos and how many bites can be expected in a short time in various locales is eye-opening.  Some Canadian scientists sat still long enough to report 9,000 bites in a minute.  As Coniff says,” Those Canadians know how to have fun!”  So does Coniff!

*The JPM Pain Index rates the pain of stepping on small matchbox vehicles barefoot while running across the room to catch a glass of milk before it spills on the couch.  For example, a fire-truck with a vaulted metal ladder rates a perfect score when stepped on hard, directly in the arch, after tripping over a cat.