I love Emily Cardinal's blog, Welcome to My Eternity, so I'm stealing her pretty formatting. Imitation, and all that.
I clicked on a link to this wonderful collection of covers that use the same works of art. Apart from making me try to work out the precise mechanism by which one can use the image of a painting owned by a specific museum (because even though the painting is itself out of copyright, the owner of the painting controls the images of that painting . . . I think), my real reaction was, "Susan Carroll has a book out called The Courtesan? How could I have missed that?"
So a quick trip to Amazon, and lo! she's been writing historical romances with actual history woven in. (I've ordered The Dark Queen, on Lynn Spencer's recommendation at AAR.) But while I was at the Amazon page, I scrolled down to look at the reviews, and the first one is by Kristi Ahlers, whose name I recognize not from her writing but because she was the answer to a crossword puzzle clue the other night. Understand, when my husband, Crossword Man himself, points to a clue that invariably reads, "Romance author [last name here]," I'm expected to have heard of her and to know her first name. Alas, there really are too many for me to know. Sorry about that, Kristi. And sorry about my ignorance, Ross. (He told me to write that.)
I'm fibbing here slightly. I've titled this post "Friday Medley," but in fact it's still Thursday. Barely. But I don't want to be blogging tomorrow. In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm not going to want to be doing anything at all except reading. Because Laura Kinsale's Lessons in French arrived today. Literally all I've gotten read so far is the dedication to Ventoux, the world's second most perfect dog. (Hey, I gotta throw my dog a bone, you know what I'm saying?)
So I'm pre-blogging in order to clear time tomorrow for the truly important things in life. A new book by Laura Kinsale, and time to read it in. And then, finally, I can go back to reading all the wonderful blogs that I've been avoiding because they all have reviews of LiF up now!
From the sublime to the ridiculous: a friend, listening to my explanation about a comment thread here, suddenly grabbed her copy of The Technology of the Orgasm to show me. What a hoot -- I have to get this book, and it may be the only book capable of getting me to break my rule about not reviewing.
What my friend told me was that sex toys, specifically the battery-powered sex toys that are coyly marketed as "massagers," were actually invented a century ago by physicians tired (?) of giving their "hysterical" women patients orgasms. She flipped through her copy to show me the illustrations -- can't wait to ask the patent attorney ex about the claim constructions on those inventions! -- and it just boggles the mind.
First, you have to wrap your brain around the idea that male physicians figured women were hysterical, and that the cause of this hysteria was that they were oversexed. Then you have to comprehend that the same male physicians figured the cure for this "condition" was for their patients to have orgasms. Orgasms that the physicians had to administer, as a treatment. (I've heard of "deep tissue stimulation," but this is absurd.) And that the same physicians got tired of providing these treatments, so they decided to invent a range of devices to uh, handle the problem. And that's how we today have vibrators. (And carpal tunnel injuries?)
I have to read this book. Like now. No -- wait. After Lessons in French. But no later.