Alessandro Antonuccio Antonuccio itibaren Niz Mandaruka, Bangladeş itibaren Niz Mandaruka, Bangladeş

İlkbahar ve Sonbahar Yılın ilkbaharında, yılın ilkbaharında, sevgilimin yanındaki yolda yürüdüm. Ağaçlar kabuğun ıslak olduğu yerde siyahtır. Bunları henüz yılın ilkbaharında görüyorum. O bana yoldan çıkan ve ulaşılması zor olan çiçek açması şeftali dalını kırdı. Yılın sonbaharında, yılın sonbaharında, sevgilimin yanındaki yolda yürüdüm. Kaleler kısık bir titreme ile yükseldi. Onları yılın sonbaharında hala duyuyorum. Övmeye cesaret ettiğim her şeye güldü, Ve kalbimi kırdı, küçük yollarla. Yıl yaylanıyor ya da yıl düşüyor, ağaç kabuğu damlayacak ve kuşlar çağırıyor. Görmek ve işitmek için çok şey var Bir yılın baharında, bir yılın sonbaharında. Aşk bu günlerime zarar vermiyor. Ama çok az yol kat etti.

This is one of those annoying books whose title pretends to a much tighter focus than it has. Rather than educating us on rudeness, it ranges far and wide, touching such microtopics as the high costs of funerals, the sex life of the fruit fly, the business practice of TQM (Total Quality Management), Martha Stewart's product lines, email flaming, and Mr. Hankey, the Christmas Poo of South Park. Authors of these types of books are doing what I would term dilettanting (verb borrowed from Karen Lewis, the head of the Chicago Teachers Union, who used it to describe the self-important dabblers in education policy who have no practical experience and don't know WTF they're talking about. I don't normally approve of turning nouns into verbs willy-nilly, but I think Lewis struck gold with that one). They are rarely actual historians, but random people who write books thinking they have the right to foist pointless meandering bullshit on the universe and are rewarded with excruciatingly fulsome blurbs from random newspaper critics.

Oh my, what to say about this book? I think perhaps the members of the Newbery committee were smoking crack the year they awarded this a notable "Honor." It's not that it was awful - from a middle aged woman's perspective at least. It's just that it's one of those dry, slow, and very, very dull stories that teachers assign to kids in school, ensuring that they grow up to hate reading and groan the next time they're forced to pick up a book. That being said, I happened to almost enjoy the long rants describing the Welsh countryside, and even tolerated the somewhat lame story of the ancient bard, Taliesin. And even though the kids spoke like miniature adults from England (when in fact they were a tween and two teens from America), I grew to care for them a bit, too. So all in all, I didn't want to kill myself over this one. Still, never make your kid read it - or else, suffer the inevitable consequences (see paragraph 1.)

I really enjoyed this book. The writer, Lisa Unger, created believable characters who all had their own secrets and skillfully wove them into a coherent whole. The story's underlying theme was secrets and lies and the consequences that can result. I will definitely read more of this author's works. Very good read. It kept me engaged with the story the whole way through.

Bobbles, where can they take you? A detective novel.