This is the first book in another series by Pilkey, who’s also the author
of the “Captain Underpants” series. While that series undeniably
exploits underpants, diapers, and related matters for cheap laughs, it’s
also undeniably clever. The books aren’t deep, but I didn’t mind reading
them to David.

This book is something else again. All it shares with the “Captain
Underpants” is the cheap paper on which it’s printed and the ridiculous
Flip-O-Rama action pages. Each Flip-O-Rama chapter consists of four or
five pairs of pages; each pair is supposed to be a cheesy kind of
flipbook. That’s right–a flip book which contains just two pages.

Here’s the complete plot: Ricky Ricotta gets picked
on by bullies. A mad scientist creates a giant robot, and sends it to
destroy Mouseville. The robot balks, and runs away. Ricky meets the
robot, which follows him home. His parents agree that the robot can stay,
after the robot does some chores around the house. The next morning, the
robot goes to school with Ricky, and scares the bullies into subservience.
The mad scientist tries again to destroy the robot, but the robot wins.
The end.

No doubt I’ll be asked to read the further adventures of Ricky Ricotta,
but I’m not looking forward to it. This book lacks the humor and
cleverness I’ve come to expect from Pilkey, and the book seems to be written
for a much lower reading level than the “Captain Underpants” books.

I find it fascinating that Craig Ceely of The Anger of Compassion, a self-proclaimed Bright, not only uses the word uncharitable in its original sense, much as C.S. Lewis would have used it, (and laudably so, in an article about preventable errors in English usage), but also quotes Dame Julian of Norwich’s “all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.”

I have to conclude that either he’s remarkably well-read in obscure Christian classics, or that he’s a Pete Townshend fan–which (full disclosure) is actually where I first heard the phrase. Or he’s read a lot of C.S. Lewis in an attempt to understand how Christians think; that’s where I first heard of Dame Julian myself.

Just for the record, I got back home last night on schedule, and my three kids greeted me at the entrance to the baggage claim at LAX:

“There he is! Daddy!”

“Daddy!”

“Daddy! Daddy!”

It’s good to be Dad.

Over the last few months I’ve been reading Marsh’s books in order of
publication. In our last outing, the excellent Vintage
Murder, we found Inspector Alleyn on vacation in New Zealand. The
current book finds him on shipboard on his way home to England, where he
makes the acquaintance of rising artist Agatha Troy, his future wife.
There first meeting is somewhat fraught, and though Alleyn agrees to sit
for a portrait before the voyage is done, he comes away from it persuaded
that Troy dislikes him.

At journey’s end, Alleyn toddles off to spend a couple of weeks with his
old mother before returning to Scotland Yard, while Troy returns to her
home, where a number of artists are paying to study with her. They do
not encounter each other again until one of the students is murdered, and
Alleyn is called in to investigate.

What follows is both an interesting mystery and a most unconventional
romance. Professionalism dictates that Alleyn must treat Troy no
differently than any of the other suspects, and this, while clear to both
of them, adds a certain regrettable constraint to their interactions.
In addition, neither of them really understands each other at first.
Alleyn is naturally reserved, both personally and professionally, while
Troy, angry with herself for how she behaved at their first meeting, is
by turns cold, prickly, and defensive.

Ultimately, of course, Alleyn can no longer deny his feelings, and tells
Troy how he feels…but there are no wedding bells at the end of this
book, and no mad, passionate embrace. A person has just been murdered;
it has been a week of horror and pain; it’s no time for falling joyously
in love. And yet the passion is there, just below the surface, and at
the end Alleyn is given, if not encouragement, then hope for the future.

It’s a remarkable accomplishment: although writing genre fiction, Marsh
seems determined to avoid all but the most necessary bits of formula.
Very, very nice.

I’m writing these words from an Internet Cafe at Detroit Metro airport. It’s almost 1 PM, Eastern Daylight Time, and I’m supposed to be home. Actually, I was supposed to be home about twelve hours ago. Thus begins the saga.

Friday night we had thunderstorms. Serious thunderstorms. Detroit Metro was closed, and I heard one of the TSA security people say that eight flights were cancelled. There are two completely separate terminals, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the total was higher than that. Fast forward to Saturday afternoon, when I arrived at the airport in preparation for a 5 PM flight. There were still masses of people in the check-in lines for American Airlines and other carriers; the America West line was mercifully (ha!) empty. As I was travelling America West, I got through easily.

At 4:30, they were supposed to start boarding. They didn’t.

At 5:10, they announced that there would be a delay.

At 5:30, they told us that the plane’s lavatories were out, and that there would be a lengthy delay; our connecting flights would be rebooked automatically.

At 6:00, they told us they’d have more news at 6:30.

Between 7:30 and 8:00 (!) they finally told us that the flight was cancelled. As I had checked baggage I was out of luck; I had to hang around.

At 8:00 or a little after, they announced that they’d be finding us hotels for the night. I got in line.

Around 10:30 or 10:45 (!) I finally got to the head of line, rebooked my flight, and got a hotel voucher. I went downstairs, got my suitcase, and called the hotel for a shuttle.

At 11:30PM I stepped into my room at the airport Quality Inn. Thank the Good Lord! It was, surprisingly, a nicer room than I’d spent the past week in. I ordered a pizza (I’d not really eaten since lunchtime), called Jane, ate the pizza, read for a few minutes, went to sleep. I got the best night’s sleep I’d had all week.

And now I’m waiting for a 5:30 PM flight on North West airlines from Detroit to Los Angeles, arriving at 7:12 PM (PDT) at LAX, instead of at Burbank, where I’d originally been scheduled to arrive.

James and Anne will be celebrating their 4th and 2nd birthdays with their friends this afternoon. I will not be there.

Damn it.

I’ve just posted Chapter 22 and Chapter 23 of my novel Through Darkest Zymurgia! over at Once Told Tales. At last, we begin to explore the fabled land of Zymurgia!

Yesterday was the first day of the conference proper, and while parts of it were interesting, some of the presentations were less than stellar. We had a keynote speaker by the president of BitMover, who told us at great length that it’s painful to create really beautiful (i.e., MS Windows-like) GUIs in Tcl/Tk. Which is true, and there are apparently plans already afoot to do something about it, and it wasn’t necessary that the topic dominate the rest of the day. But the company was good, and of course that’s the real point of going to a conference like this–getting to chat with all kinds of people. And Tcl people are generally very nice people.

This morning has been more interesting. My favorite presentation so far was by a guy from a satellite radio company. There are apparently dozens of satellite radio receivers on the market and they need to test all of them. And they test all of them by putting them in a car (or, in one case, a BMW motorcycle) and driving for eight hours a day. They’ve circumnavigated the United States twice, they say. Testing the audio signal requires a fair amount of computer hardware, and they are using Tcl to glue everything together.

And of course I did my presentation as well. I won’t talk about it here, as the topic is really only of interest to Tcl coders, but it went well, and people seemed to like it.

More papers will be presented this afternoon, followed by a roundtable discussion on the future of Tcl, and then, later on, something called the “Wine BOF”. A BOF is a “Birds Of a Feather” session, in which people with shared interests get together and argue about them; the Wine BOF seems to involve tasting fine wines and arguing about anything in the world. (I’ll have more about that later.)