"Holy shit, is your Dan a ginger?"

(Part of a conversation between three woman in the office reading the Outlander series for the first time, in response to one's statement that she'd tried to get her boyfriend to grow out his hair and sport a kilt.)

All right, enough with these long, analyzing posts. Let's get funk-ay!

I gave Jana at work Guy Gavriel Kay's The Fionavar Tapestry, the series that made me love books. So far she's not saying much, but I have faith in her that she's going to love it. (She saw Mr. Kay's acknowledgements and realized she's neighbours with one of the editors of the book, so she'd better at least try to like it!)

Speaking of Fionavar, the first book of the series, The Summer Tree made the Indigo's list of iRewards Reader's Favourite Books of All Time. It came in at #76 (my lucky number!), while Diana Gabaldon's Outlander came in ninth. I had no idea either of the books were that popular!

On to music: I'm still loving the Decemberists, and have found an appreciation for Alan's beloved Okkervil River. I'm crazy about the Devics, who I must have heard on Morning Becomes Eclectic. I'm also really digging B.C. Camplight, who has a delightful beaver on his album cover and a fab song called Blood and Peanut Butter.

I listened to a couple tracks from Caroline's new album, Murmurs, and Fink's latest, Biscuits for Breakfast, and I can't wait to pick them up. Last but not least I grabbed Serena-Maneesh's self-titled, and Sh lent me Reindeer Section's Son of Evil Reindeer—which Alan tells me is good—and Goldspot's Tally of the Yes Men—which I listened to and think is good.

Whew! It's great to have new music to listen to!

I've spent another non-productive Sunday laying in bed reading a book. Last week it was Reay Tannahill's In Still and Stormy Waters, which was okay but not nearly as good as Passing Glory. This weekend, it was Sebastian Faulks' Birdsong.

The cover said "romantic" and "erotic"; and it was, for about 60 pages. The next 450 were some of the most heart-wrenching, life-draining pages of pure depression I'd ever read, as the hero of the story spends three years in a French trench during the First World War.

I found Faulks when I first rented Charlotte Grey, a movie based on his book of the same name. I bought the book and loved it as much as I loved the movie (which, because of Billy Crudup, is ruined for me forever). I bought On Green Dolphin Street next, then found Birdsong at a second-hand book store.

I'd been on quite a chicklit jag over the last year, so even though I bought Birdsong some months ago, the subject matter just seemed too much for me to handle. But since reading Diana Gabaldon's A Breath of Snow and Ashes, I've been ready for meatier books. I wasn't sure about reading Birdsong so soon after Passing Glory, since they both dealt with the First World War, but it was either that or try a new author, and I wasn't ready for that. Plus, it said "erotic," and who doesn't love that?

I spent all afternoon crying as man after man dies alone, in pairs, in thousands. When I close my eyes I can see those festering pits; can feel the moist soil of the underground tunnels under my fingertips; can smell the mould and rot and tang of the chalk and lye. I know so little about this war. I am so ignorant of the sacrifices made for me.

How does Germany remember its war dead? With pride and sorrow? With shame? In 100 years, how will our great-grandchildren remember those who die in Iraq?

The BBC's historical archives on the First World War

Well, there have been two episodes of Veronica Mars so far, and I have to say that I'm unsure how I feel yet. Everything seems a bit off; just a little awkward, like watching a concert on the Jumbotron—I can see their lips move, but hear the songs a half a second later.

I'm not sure how to take the developments over the summer. I'm glad that Veronica and Logan were together for a little while, and I'm glad his aggressive side came out when she ended things. It's a good sign when producers don't forget the negative aspects of a character after he or she becomes a fan favourite. I'm also glad that Veronica is with Duncan, and that Duncan still solves his problems by walking away. And that Wallace can't really act.

The major story arc is still bothering me. A bus? Really? Who cares? I was kinda hoping that Big Dick Casablancas was going to be offed, leaving his trophy wife Kendall and his two sons looking alternately grieved and guilty. I guess that's too close to the Lilly Kane murder—but at least it would have been more plausible than someone cutting the brakes to kill Veronica (or Duncan, or Dick, or whomever else may end up looking like the intended victim). I just can't feel the pain.

Oh well, I'll give it time.

Was this worth waiting for, Elena? I feel like I've rambled a lot, but said nothing. Ah well, I'm still recovering from the end of Snow and Ashes. Oh, wait! I get it now. The snow and ashes refer to the notice about Jamie and Claire's death that Brianna saw in the paper. Dang! That Gabaldon is a clever lass!

I'm listening to: Imogen Heap, I Megaphone. I love her voice. I love this album. Yummy!

I just got home from: A History of Violence. Hey, since when have we had 14A and 18A ratings? P.S. In case you're wondering, Maria Bello's cuffs don't match her collar.

I finished A Breath of Snow and Ashes this morning at 12:30 a.m.

I cried myself to sleep, then slept as though dead.

I feel like my heart's broken. The next four years are going to be long ones.

Elena, I was wrong. He's here.

Someone else, please read the book so I have somebody to talk to. I have to talk about the ending. I need to know they're coming back.

Aaw, look. I've gone and made myself cry again.

Last week I lent my colleague Mucky Outlander, and it's begun again.

Monday Morning

Mucky: I'm only on page 90 and I’m in love with Jamie already!! It’s going to be hard to work because I want to read!!! Ohhhhhhh Jamie!!!!!!

Tuesday Morning

Lal: Where are you in the book now? You'll love him even more once you get though the next 100 pages! Ahhhh, Jamie! Gotta love him.

Mucky: I’m at the part where Claire and Jamie are in their honeymoon suite!!! Claire has just started talking about Frank. I cried on the streetcar on my way in today because of their wedding. My God, how I love that Jamie!!!

Jen Star: Ooh boy! There's lots of "doin' it" coming up for you in the next 50 pages!

Mucky: I was hoping so!! Tehhehheeeee!

Jana: All that fresh air, scented heather, oatcakes and whiskey . . . gives a lad a lot of energy it seems.

Jen Star: Also, there's the whole "23-year-old virgin" part.

Lal: I was just thinking about the first time they do it. . . . Hahaha, it's too cute!

Jana: She's very discreet . . . the author I mean!

Mucky: That, I must admit, tickled my fancy. Especially since that witch chick said he was the father of Column’s son. I was so upset. Then he confessed his purity and my loins quivered!!!

Lal: Well, expect more than your loins quivering in the next 50 pages!

Tuesday Afternoon

Mucky: That Jamie sure is a sweet lover, what with his lack of experience and all. (sigh . . .)

Lal: Oh, but he does become a foxy lover, thanks to our heroine Claire Beauchamp!

Mucky: Very true!!! She taught him about pleasure and pain. Dirty little vixen!!!

Jana: He walked into that room a boy, he crawled out a man.

Nice one, Jana.

K has finally gone mental. She's taken to sitting in her office and crying over whether Jamie is ever going to meet his daughter. I actually had to remind her that "He's not real!"

It's so fantastic to see a book that I love affect someone in such a tangible way. Normally, when you lend a book to someone, they read it and hand it back. "Did you like it?" you ask.

"Yeah, it was good."

What was your favourite part?"

"Oh, you know, all of it. I liked the sex. Can I borrow the next one?"

Giving the book to a colleague means that every morning (and after lunch, since K and Lal close the door to their office and read their respective books for an hour each day), I get a knock on the door, an ass on my settee, and an "Oh, my God! That Capt. Randall is one SICK MOTHERFUCKER!!"

It's truly delightful.

Thirty-five days until the next book.

I am listening to: A lot more Led Zeppelin than I thought. I used to love Zeppelin in my late teens (along with the Doors, Pink Floyd and all that hippie-funky rock stuff), but haven't listened to them since I abandoned my tapes in the early '90s. (Okay, mid-'90s; whatever.) I acquired a couple greatest hits albums the other week, and am finding them playing on my iPod all the time. I'm also listening to that Mediaeval Baebes CD, Mirabilis, plenty—though I expected that. I love those babes. And, finally, a colleague at work has Sufjan Stevens on her iTunes. Very, very cool.
 
I am watching: Not much. Just the nightly episodes of Amazing Race and some Daily Show (Jon's interview of Steve Carell was fab). Oh! And the marathons of Arrested Development and the American Office. (That Jim is way cute.) And Little Britain on Showcase and BBC Canada. But that's it, I swear!

My friend Lal finished Outlander early this week, and before I could even get it out of the building, her officemate K snatched it from me and started reading it. She reads it on the train to work, and on her lunches, and between the boxes she's packing as she moves into her new home. She cursed me daily for introducing her to the book at the busiest time of her life. But then she read the spanking scene and all was well again.

By the time September comes, the whole office will be reading Gabaldon!

This past weekend Elena and I headed to Fergus, Ont., to attend the Fergus Scottish Festival and Highland Games*. There is a huge Scottish population in Southwestern Ontario, and these are some of the biggest Highland games outside of Scotland. Well, probably. I’m too lazy to look that up, so let’s just assume that I’m right.

One of the best parts of the Fergus Festival is the semi-regular appearance of Diana Gabaldon, my second favourite author and creator of the Outlander series of books, which feature the hottest Scotsman in the history of Earth. I mean, this guy is smoking. I gave Outlander, the first book in the series, to my friend Lal the other week, and once she got about 100 pages in she couldn’t stop. She read until midnight every weeknight, and until 3 a.m. on the weekend. (It’s a long book.) Her son was running a fever, and she welcomed his illness as an excuse to stay in all weekend and read. Her husband is leaving her. Her job is going by the wayside. She can’t stop!

I’m bringing her Dragonfly in Amber tomorrow, to start it all over again.

So Elena and I welcome to chance to see Ms Gabaldon whenever we can, since she reads parts from her forthcoming books and answers audience questions. This year, though we were only 50 metres away from her, we were unable to make her talk. We were busy. Watching this:

The Fergus Scottish Festival takes place the second weekend in August.
 
A Breath of Snow and Ashes, the sixth book of Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series, hits bookstores Sept. 27.
 
Eddi Reader gives me something to listen to while I’m blogging about men in kilts.

(*In case you’re wondering what my Scots credentials are, my family emigrated from Scotland in the 1920s, and my family name is still Scots. I’ve never been to my ancestral home. If I were to die tomorrow this would probably be my biggest regret. You know, if you’re looking for something to get me for Christmas.)