Where Am I?

I think I hear people banging on the virtual windows, saying "Anyone home in there?" Yes I am home, and I am still reading. In brief:

Ursula, Under by Ingrid Hill. This is really very good, but very dense, packed with layers and layers of stories. The gist is, who we are, and everything we experience is a synthesis of everyone who came before us and all that has happened to each and every one of our ancestors and predecessors on earth. There is no such thing as an isolated event, or a person who operates alone. Whether we know and understand the past or not, it is what has shaped us. Got that?

Code to Zero by Ken Follett. Still listening to this, even though you have to hang your disbelief on the hook outside the door. The reader, George Guidall, is good.

Now You See It…Stories from Cokesville, PA by Bathsheba Monk. I picked this up from the New Books shelf at the library. It's a collection of stories of working class families in a steel mill town in Pennsylvania, which appealed to me because my mother grew up in such a town (substitute coal mining for steel milling). Indeed I think some of my mother's relatives are appearing in some of these stories, disguised as Bathsheba Monk's disguised relatives. It's funny and clever.