and a sigh

I think I'm just extra tense about the new prep, partly because I KNOW some of the students in there are a hard-sell on anything, and partly because I still feel unsure of my knowledge/memory and have to prep hard (again - I prepped all this in the summer but have to review it) before each class.

I feel kind of like this:

I'm trying to tell myself it's not as bad as all that (and anyway, given the budget situation and the challenge of finding a qualified adjunct in a specialized area, I'm all they have) but it doesn't help a whole lot. I think I am going to do a lot of dreading of Tuesdays and Thursdays this semester :(

And right now I just feel kind of tired. A hot bath last night was not a good idea; apparently raising my body temperature wakes me up more, and it took me a long time to fall asleep, even after finishing "Mystery in the Channel" and beginning a new novella by George Bellairs (another unfairly forgotten Golden Era mystery writer - kind of like J. Jefferson Farjeon is unfairly forgotten).

The Bellairs story is called "The Dead Shall Rise" - a bit more about that in a moment...

I liked "Mystery in the Channel." Perhaps Crofts (the author) isn't quite as "great" a writer as Ngaio Marsh or even George Bellairs, but his stories are solid and interesting - at least this one was kind of a police procedural featuring (mostly) Inspector French, who was apparently a character Crofts returned to several times. (There is, towards the end of this novel, an accounting of "all the cases" French worked on that involved the ocean or shipping....and it makes me wonder if books exist of all of those, or if they are just tantalizing "this happened in the alternate universe where he lives" and we will never know more of any of them).

The story is fairly convoluted and the murderer is not who you might expect it to be.  It also involves fraud in an investment company, where the "principals" (the victims and the murderer) aimed to get away before a big crash - they essentially laundered a bunch of money and had plans to escape to Argentina. (Why is it always Argentina people of that era tried to escape to? I mean, I get the no-extradition thing, but surely there were other closer places where they'd be "safe"?)

Anyway. it's a good solid story; Inspector French does good solid police work, and it's sort of interesting to watch the whole thing unfold.

I JUST started (first 2 chapters or so) the novella "The Dead Shall Rise" after that - this is a different, and I suspect will be a cozier, type of story. For one thing: the "murder" is actually one that happened 20 years before the events of the story, and apparently the idea is finding the person's killer and clearing another person's name that many years later on.

I chose it for the setting - early WWII Britain (actually: Christmas 1940). Detective-Inspector Littlejohn, of London, is traveling up to Yorkshire - his wife, after being slightly injured in the Blitz, has been evacuated there to stay with an unmarried woman friend of the family. Once Littlejohn arrives, he encounters his opposite number Superintendant Haworth, on the force in the little town nearest the cottage where Mrs. Littlejohn is. The Yorkshire constable seems like a good and kind man - he and his wife invite them to his home for Christmas eve dinner, and it later turns out he fills in as the baritone soloist in the local Methodist church's performance of The Messiah (a Christmas tradition, it turns out, in that town, and one eagerly anticipated by the populace). Unfortunately, the skeletal remains of the murder victim are discovered just about that time (On Christmas, and during the Messiah sing). A note is passed to Haworth, who rushes out after his (last? I presume? Of the oratorio) solo.....and that's where I ended for the night. But I love all the atmospheric details - much is made of the blacked-out train, and the difficulty Littlejohn has finding his way about (and he encounters an old Yorkshireman - accent and all - in the darkened train compartment - and I kind of wonder if that fellow is going to be a Chekov's gun rather than mere local color, but I don't (or "doan't," as Bellairs has rendered the Yorkshire accent) know that yet. And the coziness of the small cottages in the Pennines, and the Christmas carolers, and the fact that even with rationing (which is mentioned), the Haworths provide generous hospitality (mince pies and all) to the carolers....and part of it is the coziness I love; part of it is the just simple decent people - people wanting to be hospitable, people who are a part of their community, and I admit that's something I long for, to be able to enter into that kind of cozy world, where things are maybe simpler and good food and cheer and warm fires are held in higher esteem than fame or wealth....And Bellairs is a good and atmospheric writer; I think I'll enjoy this one.

***

Added, midafternoon: I do think that "community" thing is something I do miss a bit. I was thinking yesterday about it - the flyer from ParkLands Foundation (a small, privately-held conservation landholding group up where I used to live) came advertising the annual meeting. (Of course I will not be attending: it's 10 hours away from me). But. One of the women I went to grad school with is now on the board there, and several of the people I had as professors are either in the group of managers or are sort of "emeritus leaders." And I remember the foundation - I remember the monthly workdays; I went and did them as much as I had time to (You can't always do stuff on weekends, even stuff like that, when you're in grad school). And it was fun. It was work, but it was also fun. Often the person leading the workday, especially if they were one of the university professors, they would have a short hike or informative program after the workday, as a sort of reward. And even then - I find stuff like cutting brush or gathering seeds (for future prairie restorations) enjoyable; it feels like useful work, it's outside, it's with a group of like-minded people.

There's not a lot of that here. We don't really have a lot of natural areas and the last bits of anything like "conservation type" stuff I did was the trash-offs in town, and the last few times I did it, it was so poorly attended that I wound up working alone - and that's less fun.

There are groups, but you have to drive for them. I feel bad not going to Native Plat Society meetings, but I canNOT drive 2 1/2 hours or so on a Thursday afternoon (and return Thursday night, for class on Friday) to go up to Norman or where-ever they meet. I know some people do. I even find driving to Sherman for stuff hard some days.

And I know, that's partly my Northerner/Easterner bias: I grew up, and spent more than half my life (until I was 30) living in places where most everything you needed was right in town. And there were civic groups and activities and things like "knit night at the museum" and the like. And there's not that, so much, here. (Again, if I wanted to drive....there might be. But even an hour's round trip is too far most days).

But I dunno. I think of "alternative realities" a lot (like I alluded to with Inspector French - I like the conceit that fictional universes actually exist somewhere, and have their own histories and events and things, so there is one were Inspector French lived and where he solved all those cases....) And I like to imagine one where I got a job in Central Illinois so I could still be active in ParkLands and maybe belong to the quilt guild up there (I GUESS there is still one here? They used to meet on Wednesday afternoons though, so I could never go...). Just like I like to imagine one where my life took a totally different track and I wound up marrying either Mark or Matt or one of the other fellows I knew in my young life, and maybe had a kid or something and....I don't know. I know every life path is actually hard in its own way, but I admit some days - when I come home to a silent, slightly messy house*, and I have to figure out all by myself what I want for dinner, sometimes I think "wouldn't it have been easier if you had married? Wouldn't it have been easier if you had followed your mom's path where you stayed home until your kids were almost grown?" It's also hard when faced with some decision or something to have to make up your mind without bouncing ideas off of someone else.

(This is probably midlife talking. So many roads diverging in a yellow wood, and the chance to explore only one...)

(*And yes, had I had kids, the house would pretty much ALWAYS be messy, but then I'd at least have an excuse. I feel like my house should be cleaner than it is seeing as only I live there....)

But anyway. I keep hearing about the northward creep of Dallas and even as I'm not ready for worse traffic and (maybe) higher crime, I wish we could get a few of the good things - some hobbyist groups, or more shops that cater to my interests, or something.