Ancient Binding Media, Varnishes and Adhesives

By L Masschelein-Kleiner

Alright so I know none of you out there will be reading this book anytime soon, unless you're also doing a thesis about the history of adhesives, but it's a book and I read it during the 'thon, so just dealio, OK??


This is actually a very useful little book, much better than that stupid one by Mills & White, "The Organic Chemistry of Museum Objects". Classification of materials MUCH more easy to follow; useful summaries of how various materials produced. Also, I finally have a definition of what "mucilage" is!! Hurrah!! (I'm not going to tell you what it is, in hopes that it will pique your interest enough to actually read my thesis - or at least a bit of it).

Diagrams not as good as McGee's, but ICCROM not known for the flashiness of their publications.

I don't have a nice picture of the cover to include so I'll put one of my glue bottles in here instead.

Rating: 8 out of 10

McGee on Food & Cooking

By Harold McGee

OK so I didn't read absolutely every word of this book, but it's over 800 pages and I reckon I read more than enough of them to equal a decently long novel. I'm actually reading it for my thesis, what with McGee being a pre-eminent food scientist and all, and it's so much more pleasurable to read than your average science textbook. Describing the science behind food - why does bread rise? Why should you start stocks with cold water? - McGee takes you not only through the science but also into some of the history, and this is a large part of its charm. Where else can you learn about why the outside of egg yolks turn yellow on boiling while also enjoying fantastic quotes like this one from Miss Leslie in 1857: “But to stir butter and sugar is the hardest part of cake making. Have this done by a manservant”. Quite - why didn't I think of that? Only bad point from my current perspective is that it's so easy to get distracted by other non-thesis related topics, like how to make cakes and how beer works. Also, nice diagrams!

Rating: 10 out of 10

A Gentle Plea for Chaos (2006)

By Mirabel Osler
This is a book about gardening, but the author seems to have applied the idea of chaos to her writing also. The book is divided into five chapters, one each about trees, water, stones/wall, roses and bulbs, but it seemed to me that the chapters didn’t necessarily stick exclusively to their theme, making the whole book a bit of a jumble. The more enjoyable parts of this book talk about Osler’s own garden (acres of land somewhere in England) and how it came into being, interdispersed with musings on gardeners and gardening in general.

I became bored by Osler’s repeated “pleas for chaos” in gardens. (She really really doesn’t like neat gardens, gardens with dirt spaces between neat rows of plants and anything else that smacks of an even vaguely anal retentive personality). I mean, each to their own, I reckon – and Osler seemed to look down her nose at anyone who didn’t happen to share her gardening philosophy. (There were some quite snide remarks about clubs of little old ladies that visit open gardens, the "plant collectors"). Live and let live, you snotty cow!!

I haven’t had much gardening experience myself, but I won’t let that stop me putting in my two bits about Osler’s own gardening style – because she hates dirt showing between plants, she plants very densely, and then wonders why things don’t work. She despises those who sit down with pencil and paper to plan their gardens before they plant (presumably this is not organic enough or something) and then again wonders why things don't work. I mean, derrr.

Maybe I just wasn’t in the right mood for this book. Maybe I don’t know enough about plants to fully enjoy a book about gardening that has no pictures.

Rating: 4 out of 5

Down and out in Paris and London (2006)

By George Orwell
Another book by my new literary hero, detailing his actual experiences of being poor in Paris and London. Should be mandatory reading for anyone who reckons that people who beg on the street make a good living! Also by anyone who wants to be discouraged from eating in restaurants or staying in hotels. A very interesting read, in Orwell’s simple, succinct style about which I have raved previously.

I might have to take Orwell off his pedestal though, and just place him near it instead – undoubtedly Orwell was a smartypants and a fabulous writer, but my ever-alert misogyny detector thought it detected a hint of misogyny. Near the end of the book, Orwell notes that the majority of homeless poor in England are male, and surmises that a woman who has fallen on hard times “can at least attach herself to some man”, which seemed a little over-simplified to me. I don’t suppose Orwell spent any time hanging out with women forced to work in brothels or live in the homes for unmarried pregnant women – although technically they do have a roof over their head, I wonder if he would really think their situation was a desirable alternative? (Orwell recounts at one point a particularly disgusting tale told to him by someone he met in Paris, about a girl who had evidently been sold into sexual slavery).

Nevertheless, this book is a fascinating account of how the poor of London and Paris survived at that time – I wonder if much has changed?

Rating: 7 out of 10

Why I Write (2006)

By George Orwell
This books is actually made up of four of Orwell’s essays, of which “Why I write” is the first and one of the shortest. The longest, which makes up the bulk of this volume, is called “The Lion and the Unicorn” and is a call for the reform of England’s system of government. Orwell wrote this essay in 1940, during the World War II, and it is interesting to compare Orwell’s hopes for the transformation of England (and of other countries) to the changes that actually occurred. I think Orwell would have been disappointed, having strong leanings towards socialism. I must look up when 1984 and Animal Farm were written, because they seem to present a fairly gloomy view of the future and of human nature, in contrast to the feeling of hope that permeates this piece of writing.

Apart from Orwell’s apparent fondness for the word “got”, a word I despise (The Lion and the Unicorn is full of “We’ve got to do this” and “We’ve got to do that”), I think Orwell is my ultimate writing role model hero pin-up boy and I’m going to read all his books. His writing is so good! (Concise, smooth, seamless…). Also, his writing has a passion behind it, which never hurts, and it is nice to read something infused with a sense of energy and hope for a change – so many books have a melancholy air. (I’m looking at you, Tolstoy and Murakami).

This book is part of the “Great Ideas” series that has recently been published by Penguin Books. Other titles in the series include Machiavelli’s The Prince, Darwin’s On Natural Selection, Nietzsche’s Why I am So Wise, Woolf’s A Room of One’s Own and, one I personally can’t wait to read, Hazlitt’s On the Pleasure of Hating. Expand your brain now!!

Rating: 9 out of 10

Making the Cat Laugh (2006)

By Lynn Truss
Lynn Truss rose to fame with her book Eats, Shoots and Leaves, about grammar, and it seems pretty certain this book has been published to cash in on her current popularity. This book is a collection of columns Truss wrote for The Listener, The Times and Woman’s Journal, from the perspective of a single woman with cats, and about topics that concern a single woman with cats who is very fond of grammar (and male tennis players).

I kind of read this book out of spite for all the people that have recommended I read “Marley and Me”, a book about a man and his dog, currently high on the bestseller list, which I resisted because I am a cat person. However, this book had disappointingly little to do with cats, despite its title. Truss’ cats turn up every so often to observe and emphasise some pathetic aspect of her life (cats are very good at that) but otherwise we don’t hear much about them.

Truss is an entertaining writer and I often laughed while reading this book, but there is something curiously unsatisfying about the book as a whole - and something irritating about her style of writing. Mum suggested it might be because she is always ironic, or satirical, or whatever, and never serious about anything, which may be the case. I guess this book has highlighted for me the differences in writing for a newspaper column and writing a novel – they are written for different purposes and read for different reasons. I guess I expect something more intriguing from a novel; it is a long-term investment with long-term rewards. Still, it was good for reading on the train. And maybe Truss would be interested in joining my "Family Last" party - except of course she can't vote in Australia.

Rating: 5 out of 10

Book Collecting as a Hobby (2003)

By P H Muir
This is obviously not the kind of book to pick up for a bit of light reading or escapism. About a year ago I read a book by Christopher Hitchens (an English columnist and probably a bona fide “intellectual” who has been very damning of many people, including Bill Clinton, Princess Diana and Mother Teresa) called “Letters to a Young Contrarian” where he writes a series of essays to a fictional student in order to give them advice about how to think for yourself (and other things).

I liked the general idea of the book and knew there were a few series based on this format – where the author imparts his knowledge to the reader through a series of letters. It is an easier, more immediate way to absorb information. I picked up “Book Collecting as a Hobby” for this reason and of course because I thought it might be useful for work.

The book is very informative and well written, with lots of information on what sets the value of a book, amongst other things, and provides an insight into the motivations of a true collector. (For example, he suggests as a project collecting one book to represent each year of the last 300 years, to show the change in printing, binding and presentation over the years. I thought people just collected books because they were by authors they liked!!). If you are looking to learn a little more about books and collecting, I recommend this one, but you may not be able to read it all in one go – I tended to read a chapter at a time and then have a break.

Rating: 8 out of 10

Game Design - The Art & Business of Creating (2003)

By Bob Bates & Andre La Mothe
Have I told you about any of my fabulous ideas for computer games? Well, I’m not going to because you might steal them and they could be my one and only shot at becoming a millionaire – because let’s face it, the only way I’ll get rich doing conservation is by pinching a couple of Rembrandt’s, faking my own death, fleeing to Rio de Janeiro and selling the pix to a private and ethically challenged collector for his living room wall. So I’m not even going to tell you what’s in the book, in case you get any ideas and beat me to the post or the pip or the cake or whatever that saying is. As “how-to” books go, though, it’s not bad – easy to read and well laid out, perhaps not quite as informative and step-by-step as I would have liked. I still don’t have much of an idea about what all those IT people do to make all those little people move, but I guess I don’t have to because I’ll just be coming up with the kick-ass ideas and story line and getting other people to do all the hard work.

Rating: 6 out of 10

Menagerie Manor (2003)

By Gerald Durrell
I’ve always known about the existence of Gerald Durrell and had the impression that there was much to recommend him, but never got around to reading one of his books. A lifelong animal freak, this book is about the zoo he set up on the grounds of an old manor house (Jersey Zoological Park) in the Channel Islands, with the help of his wife, his mum, his staff and many very tolerant neighbours.

While by no means a work that puts any strain on the old brain cells, the book is nonetheless very enjoyable and contains lots of cute animal stories – I liked the one about the fat skunk, and another one about a young lion who decided he needed to learn how to roar but had to practice quietly in the back of his cage for a long time before showing it off. I did feel sorry for all the mice that inevitably were fed to various reptiles, and occasionally wondered how good the living conditions for the animals really were (the book was written in the 1960s), but it is still a very “feel-good” book. When I finished, I even wondered whether I should reconsider my intense dislike for the entire monkey family, so charming did the author make them sound.

I’m not going to rush out and read another one of Durrell’s books as I suspect you could overdose very easily, but it’s nice to know there’s a group of books out there that will be enjoyable reading at some stage.

Rating: 7 out of 10

Toast (2005)

By Nigel Slater

The thing I was most amazed about when reading this book was Nigel Slater’s apparently incredible memory for food – the taste, the appearance, the context. I tried to conjure up of some of my childhood memories of food, but all I could think of was the time I threw up after eating spaghetti and dreaming about gorillas (left over from an episode of David Attenborough’s “Life on Earth”). And I can’t claim to remember the particular texture or special ingredients of the spaghetti in question. (The appearance and aroma I can probably guess). Also I remember fish fingers, but I doubt I could write about them as poetically as Slater. Clearly, this man was destined to be a chef. (He is a chef, plus a food writer). He even carried out repeat covert operations, at the age of 12 or so, to discover the secret recipe for his evil step-mother’s lemon meringue pie.

This is essentially a biography; memories of food interlaced with Slater’s own family tragedies and a sexual awakening on the part of young Nigel. While I did very much enjoy the food and family bits, I’m afraid I found the sexual awakening bits a bit sordid at times. Still, this is Nigel’s biography, and if he wants to tell everyone about it, well that’s his prerogative. (Go Britney!). Definitely worth a read, though.

Rating: 6.5 out of 10
A good rainy Sunday read, especially if someone is baking a lemon meringue pie.

The Poison Principle (2005)

By Gail Bell
Quite a satisfying non-fiction book about poisons, poisoners and the poisoned. The author’s family has its own poisoned past, the investigation of which she threads through the narrative. More of a “researched stream of consciousness”, as my friend Libby said, than a manifesto of any kind, I have to say I did get a bit frustrated towards the end with all Bell’s wafty semi-philosophical ramblings when all I wanted to know really was if her grandfather really poisoned his sons or not. (Obviously not the son that eventually begat Bell, though). That is the inherent problem of this type of book, I suppose, where you begin on page one with a mystery to be solved, knowing you will not find out the answer until page last. Somehow, you have to keep the suspense going, and it wavered a bit for me by the end. For instance, I am not really interested in Bell’s idle imaginings of how Cleopatra may have been saved by one of her poor handmaidens when she was trying to kill herself via snakebite – this has too much of the “well the Romans COULD have built it this way” SBS faux-history documentary for my liking.

But still, quite a fascinating read, and I may be employing a food taster once I am rich enough because Bell’s right, we do every day partake of thousands of small acts of faith, e.g. that the sandwich we bought from the shops for lunch isn’t poisoned – accidentally or deliberately. And by the time I’m wealthy enough to afford a food taster I’d probably have lots of enemies; maybe I could even claim it as a tax deduction.

Rating: 7.0 out of 10
Not to be read at a restaurant, or in the doctor’s waiting room, and you might want to have the Poisons Information Centre on speed-dial.