Ursula Le Guin: The Word for World is Forest

This is what I think of Ursula Le Guin’s book The Word for World is Forest: Furry green men? I’m not onboard with this literary device, if that’s what it is. I appreciated the name of the earthlings’ space ship, the Shackleton — but the rest of the story just isn’t my thing. Not to mention that the text is annoyingly repetitive. Maybe in 1972 when it was published, readers would have approached it in a different way than I did just now.

Weekend Images

Partly-Read Book

I wasn’t finding very many new ideas here, so I skipped several chapters
I expected more from Mark Bittman..

Silly Newspaper Items

I guess if I got drunk I would forget it was still winter. 

As they say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Wait… What?

Baking Hamentaschen

Ingredients for the dough, which has to be made, chilled, rolled, cut out, and filled.

We cooked some traditional prune filling, and also used jam.

A Purim Play: children watch through the window. A plate of hamentaschen is on the table. 

 Photos © 2026 mae sander

February Wrap-Up: Not Much New

Hello Mona Lisa in Paris and in my kitchen

I’ll start my February wrap-up with this Mona Lisa from Evelyn’s trip to Paris.
You probably know that I collect Mona Lisa objects.

Obviously all that’s really on my mind this morning, February 28, is the outbreak of a hot war in the Middle East. A horror show once again, probably instigated to boost the ego and deflect attention from the crimes of a monster. Now to continue with the post I had already prepared.

Mona Lisa and Other Magnets: Past and Present

Mona Lisa to my refrigerator, pretty much the same as January.
This month just hasn’t been very acquisitive, as you’ll see throughout this post.

Magnets in Janyary, 2024 — mainly from Costa Rica.

Magnets in October, 2021

Shared with murals at ColorfulWorld.

February Kitchen

Soup, stew, burgers, lamb chops.

Fruit, pancakes, and Len’s bread.

Note the valentine platter!

I guess I’ve had this white octagonal bowl a long time.
And eating the same thing over again. But we like it!
As I say, a month without much that’s new.

. 

Dinner from Carol’s Kitchen

African chicken stew with rice and several garnishes; salad; and fruit tarte for dessert.

Not My Kitchen: Lunch at Zingerman’s Deli

A Mural at Zingerman’s

Not My Kitchen: Food at the Olympics

From a random Instagram search

During February we watched a lot of the Milan Winter Olympic Games.

Polar bears in the news: another thought for the month though not in the kitchen

The New York Times recently reported that in the Svalbard archipelago in the Arctic Ocean the polar bears are doing well. The rapid warming of this area, which portends disaster for the planet is at least temporarily making polar bears’ lives much better, as it allows their prey to flourish in winter.

In Svalbard in 2015, we saw this polar bear from the deck of the National Geographic Explorer.

The bear was eating a gull that it had captured. Polar bears eat any prey they can catch.

Kitchen Trouble

Trouble? Our dishwasher is misbehaving, but we are trying to discipline it.

Sherry’s In My Kitchen blog event offers a chance to share your kitchen and see what other people have in their kitchens at the end of each month (or the beginning of the next month). Most of the participants share new kitchen gear, new food choices, and new recipes. This month, I didn’t get any new stuff, but I’ve done my best to share what’s going on in my life. I’m also sharing this with Deb’s Sunday Salon.

Blog post and photos © 2026 mae sander

A Food-Obsessed Book

Butter: A Novel of Food and Murder by Asako Yuzuki
Published in Japan in 2017 and in the US in 2024.

 

The characters in this book can’t stop thinking about food — including a woman who is in jail because she was a serial killer, and another character who is a journalist doing a story about the murders. As you can imagine, the plot is a bit over-the-top! Everything centers on food descriptions, which  are incredibly detailed but eventually get out of hand. Especially about butter. For example:

“As it melted under the heat of her tongue, the sweet butter expanded lusciously, rousing all the cells across her body capable of apprehending its rich goodness.” (p. 69)

Unfortunately, around half-way through the author seems to have lost her way, and the narrative becomes nearly unreadable. Earlier the book was a bit repetitive but this flaw gets worse and worse: really annoying. But I continued reading and finished the book despite being bored and bothered. 

I was surprised to learn that the plot is based on the history of an actual serial killer! Wikipedia says: “Kanae Kijima (木嶋 佳苗, Kijima Kanae; born November 27, 1974), known as The Konkatsu Killer, is a Japanese fraudster and serial killer, convicted for poisoning three would-be husbands and suspected of four more, spanning from 2007 to 2009.”

A few quotes:

“Reiko set down on the table a selection of large plates, each of a different design and glaze, and the meal began. Bagna càuda with a plentiful variety of steamed winter vegetables and a rich anchovy sauce, thinly cut slices of warmed salt pork, a tofu and leek gratin, rice cooked in an earthenware pot with vegetables and chopped oysters, and miso soup,” (p. 7)

“Eating was ultimately an individual and egoistic compulsion, Rika was starting to realise. A gourmand was ultimately a seeker of the truth. You could wrap up their mission in all kinds of fancy language, but they were simply confronting their desires day in and day out. As you learned to cook, you became increasingly able to shut out the outside world and create a fortress within your own spirit.” (p. 179)

“When I made them boeuf bourguignon, all they saw was beef stew.’ (p. 336) 

Note: I do not recommend this book! It’s tedious and I suspect the translation is bad, or at least in English the author often seems to use the wrong word for common things. (Example: for the entryway of an ordinary house, the book uses the word “lobby.” The book uses the phrase “a pat of butter” to refer to an entire 200 gram stick of butter. And so on.) If you want to read Japanese literature with food scenes, I recommend Haruki Murakami. 

Easter Island History

 

Mike Pitts’ history of Easter Island (Rapa Nui) and how it was understood 

and misunderstood was published January 27, 2026.

Island at the Edge of the World: The forgotten history of Easter Island primarily views the history of this very remote island in the Pacific Ocean through the history of one couple who spent several years there a little over a century ago. Katherine and Scoresby Routledge were well-known on the island, where they conducted a survey of the famous stone statues and collected oral histories from some of the older inhabitants of the island. Unfortunately, they only managed to publish a small part of their research. In the following decades a great deal of their material was effectively lost, and much misinformation obscured the actual facts about the native islanders and their accomplishments. 

This book is an effort to correct the errors that have accumulated. It’s interesting, though the author frequently offers more detail than an ordinary reader like me might want to absorb. In 1994, a popular film titled “Rapa Nui,” produced by Kevin Costner increased general awarenes of the island. In 2005, a popular book summarized the island’s history: Collapse: How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed by Jared Diamond. I think this book will contribute to the overall understanding of the island’s history. 

Photo advertising tourism to Easter Island.

Beginning in 1722, when the first European ship stopped at the island, the enormous sculptures by the seemingly primitive inhabitants fascinated voyagers, including the famous Captain Cook and many others. One historic fact that I found very sad is that early explorers noted a variety of birds on the island, but now there are far fewer species — or so says the author. 

In the British Museum

In the British Museum: an Easter Island statue (photographed from various angles).

Fascination with monumental sculptures from Easter Island has lasted for centuries! The sculpture in the above photos was brought to England on the ship HMS Topaze, in 1868. 

The Movie “Rapa Nui”

If you are intrigued by historic mysteries, you might enjoy Mike Pitts’ book. And though I haven’t seen the movie, I found a review written in 1994 by critic Roger Ebert, who wrote: 

“Rapa Nui” slips through the National Geographic Loophole. This is the Hollywood convention which teaches us that brown breasts are not as sinful as white ones, and so while it may be evil to gaze upon a blond Playboy centerfold and feel lust in our hearts, it is educational to watch Polynesian maidens frolicking topless in the surf. This isn’t sex; it’s geography. … 

Concern for my reputation prevents me from recommending this movie. I wish I had more nerve. I wish I could simply write, “Look, of course it’s one of the worst movies ever made. But it has hilarious dialogue, a weirdo action climax, a bizarre explanation for the faces of Easter Island, and dozens if not hundreds of wonderful bare breasts.” I am however a responsible film critic and must conclude that “Rapa Nui” is a bad film. If you want to see it anyway, of course, that’s strictly your concern. I think I may check it out again myself.

Saturday Lunch

Recently redecorated alleyway downtown next to Frita Batidos, a Cuban diner 
where we were going for lunch with friends.

Lunch: a chicken sandwich with fritas (fries), churros (a pastry like a donut), and batidos (a kind of smoothie).

The walls are decorated with interesting abstract murals.

After eating our frita (sandwich) we went next door to Sweetwater’s for coffee.
The mural here is realistic. (Images © mae sander 2026)

Evil Genius

 Creepy book (in a good way)

Evil Genius by Claire Oshetsky portrays a marvelously bizarre character who narrates the novel as well as portraying, in her words, her equally bizarre workmates, friends, husband, and other random people that she encounters. At one point, she says: “My life was meaningless, probably.“ (p. 176) Maybe just chaotic, maybe meaningless, generally surreal, I thought, while reading it.

For example, the narrator, Celia Dent, among many things, collected Barbie dolls. She had mutilated her first three dolls by stabbing them in the face with a nail-file. Later she had a huge, never-unboxed collection of them: 

“To make up for what I had done to those poor rubbery faces, I began to collect Barbie dolls in earnest. I took loving care of them. I never took those dolls out of their boxes. My mother encouraged my interest. She cleared out the pantry. Together we put up shelves and painted them pink. Over the years, my collection grew. Every birthday and every Christmas and every time I got an A on my report card, my mother gifted me a new doll for my collection. But it was maybe too late to reform me.” (p. 20)

Celia Dent’s inner life is full of violence. There’s some of it also in her physical life — as well as the “lives” of the Barbies. As she works in her job at a telephone company complaint center, and commutes from her home in Redwood City in the San Francisco Bay area into the city, her mind is full of oddities —

“I heard the same little song in my ear that I’d heard on the train the night before—love and death, love and death—and the people scurrying along the sidewalk with me, all those scurrying souls, yearning toward that train station, whipped their heads around and stared at me in wonder. Those people had heard my innermost secret thoughts. My body had shouted my secret thoughts out in every direction. All the thoughts I’d tried so hard to keep quiet. Thoughts about love and death, is what I mean. Thoughts about how love could be a land mine buried in a shimmering field of wheat, or a pistol shot, or a sticky trap set in a corner, or a noose, or an insidious addiction—and so could death be all these things.” (p.75)

She sees herself in odd ways, sometimes by imagining her father of whom she knows nothing whatsoever, but speculates that he might be the subject of a photo with the name “Dirk” written on the back. Her mother won’t tell her anything. But she creates an identity for herself —

“I remembered what I had always known: I was Daughter of Dirk. I was Minion of the Crab Queen. I was in a full fever. I wasn’t a normal girl. I was supernatural. I was uncanny. I was magnificent.“ (p. 117) 

Most critically, she’s a witness at a very bizarre and violent death scene, which I can’t tell more about because it would be a terrible spoiler (and I’ve already spoiled a bit). Anyway — upon being held in jail she ruminates on refusing to talk: 

“As was my right. Remaining silent had been my right ever since Ernesto Miranda’s landmark case in 1966. Think of it. One man, named Ernesto, single-handedly altered the dialogue in every climactic scene in every true-crime show and police procedural to come, forevermore, and what’s more, thanks to Ernesto, I was walking away a free woman, but with a soul still burdened by my unconfessed crimes.” (p. 206) 

The New York TImes review was complimentary about Evil Genius. The reviewer focuses on the era of 1974 as depicted in the novel: “Revolution was in the air, and to be young was very heaven. Or very hell, according to 19-year-old Celia Dent, the narrator of Evil Genius. Claire Oshetsky’s noir delight of a novel … Evil Genius alludes to Hearst, Watergate and other flashpoints of the era as Celia seeks freedom beyond the narrow cage of her life. Now older, she peers back some 50 years to a moment of transformation.” (source)

Review © 2026 mae sander

From Ann Arbor (in reality) to Paris (in memory)

Grocery Shopping

The Guinness mascot at our Kroger store.

A Cheerful Fence

 

More Olympics

We watched Biathlon because an acquaintance of Tom, Evelyn, Miriam, and Alice was competing.
I managed to get a photo of my TV at the moment of her arrival at the finish line (she was thirteenth).
We also continue to watch figure skating and a few other sports.

Unfinished History Book

The Bookseller of Florence is interesting, but I don’t feel compelled to finish it.

“The Bookseller of Florence by Ross King tells the story of Vespasiano da Bisticci, a major Renaissance bookseller who created magnificent, hand-copied manuscripts for Europe's elite before the printing press disrupted his business.” (Goodreads)

Paris Today and in the Past

Headline in the Times of London this week: the famous Poilâne bakery in Paris is in financial trouble. Baking continues — at least for now. (source) What a shock! I have always thought that Paris food institutions were immortal.

Paris, 1976. Poilâne bakery on Boulevard de Grenelle, Paris. (My photo)

The Poilâne bakery was across the street from the apartment building where we lived in 1976. The elevated Metro line, which you can see through the bakery window in the photo, ran down the middle of the street. The tracks (with all their noise) went right in front of our apartment windows. 

The bakery had wood-fired ovens in the basement, and we could see the wood-delivery trucks each morning. We loved the bread that we could buy there. At first, we didn’t even know that this bakery was famous, we knew only that the bread and pastries were extraordinary. A Parisian friend explained how lucky we were to live near this culinary landmark.

Poilâne bakery is now more famous than ever. All baking is done at a central location in the suburbs where rent is much lower. Over the years, more shops have opened: there are five in Paris and one in London. This famous bread is also sold in many other food stores and is exported to the US and elsewhere.

Paris, 2018: Bread and Pastry at Poilâne on Rue du Cherche-Midi. (My photo)

The bakery today, still selling bread at the location that first opened in 1932. (From the Poilâne website)

A recipe book that we bought years ago.

From the Times Article

Blog post and original photos © 1976, 2018, 2026 mae sander

Other photos as credited.