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I liked how Graham Storrs worked out the mechanics and physics of time travel in this novel. He nicely resolved the implications of messing with the past.

Set in Europe of 2050, the world of TimeSplash is mostly familiar but with subtle twists. Everyone's got a "compatch," which seems to be what cell phones have evolved into. Terrorists use time travel as a destructive tool, funded by unnamed deep pockets (possibly the government of the United States, which has been taken over by religious zealots).

I wasn't as much a fan of the cartoonish characters. For some reason, the misogynist Sniper could have been the deranged twin of Zaphod Beeblebrox (from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy</i); perhaps it was his evil laugh? Then there was Sandra (also known as "Patty" as in Hearst--now who in 2050 is going to want to name themselves after her??), who escapes a mental institution, becomes a brilliant marksman and martial arts fighter, and--oh yeah--she's a gorgeous 19-year-old, too.

Overall, a fun read for the plot and less so for the characters.

I related to this book – even though my family never “summered” anywhere, and I’m not black, and I’m not a male. I related because, like narrator Benji and his friends, I know the word “dag.” If this expression is not in your vocabulary, hear it not as the clipped sound as if it rhymed with “bag”; it’s more like saying “dang” with a stuffy nose, and with a slight lilt to the a, drawing it out with a vocal inflection down.

“Dag” is usually followed by “that’s cold” (as in, you got served, that’s messed up).

And to young teenagers, working through the calculus of what’s “cold” versus what’s “cool” is of utmost importance. And who can’t relate to that?

Sag Harbor was refreshing and funny. Author Colson Whitehead writes with a strong sense of autobiography, but the tone is not at all wistful or maudlin. The events take place in 1985, a kinder, gentler time, when parents could leave the kids unsupervised in the house all week.

Benji spends much time contemplating who he’s been and who he is yet to be. Finding his niche is important to him, as is fitting in, wearing the right clothes, listening to the right music. Calling “dibs” on the shotgun seat in the car is an art form. The boys go through some awkward dates and first jobs (conveyed as funny scenes at an ice cream stand). Benji, proud of his status as one of the oldest kids in the neighborhood, innocently observes: “Then on universal order we stopped fighting altogether. We were relieved. For one thing, we got bigger, and could do some damage.” But the damage does get worse, when the boys arm themselves with BB guns and the Labor Day bonfire begins to get out of hand.

So that’s why I relate to the book: it’s about how we all have to grow up. Dag.

The gimmick of this mystery is that it takes place in Victorian-era San Francisco, so the protagonist (the widowed Annie) must work through social norms to resolve a murder. She spends time (unescorted!) with a single man - gasp! A boardinghouse owner, she also moonlights as a psychic - gasp! She wears a skirt that shows her ankle - double gasp!

Annie takes a job as a housemaid at the murdered man's house in order to continue her investigations. While this plot device moved the story along, it seems highly improbable that an educated middle-class woman would have been able to pull this off. She affects a poor-and-stupid accent around her employers while using her usual speech with the cook/valet (who does see through her act). And wouldn't her pristine hands have given her away?

I wish that the story had told us more about the city.

Overall, easy to read.

The sad thing about these free books is that they are in need of editing. I found several typos in my Kindle edition.

Half a Life is a great memoir of a terrible accident. On the first page, Darin Strauss tells us that, as a teenager, he killed a girl.

It was an accident, clearly. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, driving the car that just happened to be where the girl veered her bicycle.

It was a horrible, horrible situation that most people will never find themselves in. So Strauss and his family were constantly faced with the question of what to do and how to behave, and we get to be the looky-loos.

In the immediate aftermath, Strauss spent much emotional currency dealing with those who are “for” and “against” him. The lawsuit filed against him by the dead girl’s family was sad on so many levels, and emblematic of a need to “make someone pay” – even if money can never truly compensate. The lawsuit was settled before the case went to trial, and although Strauss and his legal team were sure that they would prevail, Strauss regretted that no third party would ever render an independent verdict of his innocence.

Writing about the accident and its effect on his life was a form of therapy for Strauss. (I don’t want to use the sappy word “closure.”) He unflinchingly tells us things that he could have kept hidden; how he coped, with awkwardness and withdrawal, highlights the honesty of his story.

How did I miss reading this book all these years?

I really liked its funny anecdotes and enthralling adventures. So that's what kids did before video games!

Maybe my new year's resolution will be to try this "zero inbox" technique. That just means I have to diligently use a "to-do" folder or tag instead.

It was encouraging to read that I am already doing some things suggested in this book (deleting poor quality digital photos, folder/file naming).

Very engaging story about life on a Mississippi delta farm shortly after the end of WWII.

Hillary Jordan successfully depicts events from the points of view of several characters: landowner Henry and his city-bred wife Laura; Henry's charismatic brother Jamie; sharetenants Hap and Florence; Hap and Florence's son Ronsel. Jamie and Ronsel, both veterans, return to their families and manage to forge an unheard-of interracial friendship based on little more than the horrors of war.

Another pivotal figure is Henry and Jamie's father Pappy, an embittered man unable to deal with any change to the social order. The title of the book literally describes what happens to Pappy. Unlike the other characters, Pappy is never allowed the chance to narrate events. This was a good decision: hearing his hateful voice would have been torture. I can't imagine that his inner thoughts would have made the reader feel any sympathy towards him.

This book reminded me very much of the Bertie Wooster stories, in tone and setting.

In the late 1800’s, English gentlemen took holidays boating up and down the Thames. Our heroes are the hapless but optimistic George, Harris, and Jerome. Almost from the moment they decide to take their journey (for “fresh air, exercise and quiet”), they are befuddled and miserably unprepared, but always determined that things will work out fine.

It was great fun to read about their (mis-)adventures: packing, unpacking, and re-packing; pitching the canvas over the boat in the rain; cooking (or attempting to).

Jerome also gives us some side stories from the friends’ past. My favorites were the tale of the fragrant cheese, Harris’s adventures in a maze, and George waking up in the middle of the night, thinking it was morning.

Later chapters get somewhat bogged down in travelogue mode, as Jerome describes the attractions of the various towns along the river. I ended up skipping several of these explanations, preferring to get back to the trio’s adventures.

“It always does seem to me that I am doing more work than I should do. It is not that I object to the work, mind you; I like work: it fascinates me. I can sit and look at it for hours.”