Bean Around the World, Cornwall St. — Vancouver, BC

Caucasian male, mid 30s, blond hair, blue eyes, kind of dreamy. Wait, it’s my guy. He’s hunched over reading the oldest copy of the book I’ve ever seen. He points out that it’s from 1979, certainly not THE oldest. Eye rolling.

The Hobbit, J.R.R. Tolkien (Unwin)

Page 108:

There was a howl of anger and surprise from the goblins. Loud cried the Lord of the Eagles, to whom Gandalf had now spoken. Back swept the great birds that were with him, and down they came like huge black shadows. The wolves yammered and gnashed their teeth; the goblins yelled and stamped with rage, and flung their heavy spears in the air in vain. Over them swooped the eagles; the dark rush of their beating wings smote them to the floor or drove them far away; their talons tore at goblin faces. Other birds flew to the tree-tops and seized the dwarves, who were scrambling up now as far as they ever dared to go.

Poor little Bilbo was very nearl left behind again!

Now that’s out of the frying-pan and into the fire. Poor little Bilbo.

Monique Trottier

Read Be Seein’ Ya. Thanks for three great years!

~~~

Caucasian female, early 30s, wearing grey track suit, riding home on 84 bus down 4th Avenue. The Book Warehouse bag contained two items and she was thoroughly engrossed in reading about the art of long-term world travel.

Vagabonding, Rolf Potts (Villard)

In reality, long-term travel has nothing to do with demographics — age, ideology, income — and everything to do with personal outlook. Long-term travel isn’t about being a college student; it’s about being a student of daily life. Long-term travel isn’t an act of rebellion against society; it’s an act of common sense within society. Long-term travel doesn’t require a massive “bundle of cash”; it requires only that we walk through the world in a more deliberate way.

This deliberate way of walking through the world has always been intrinsic to the time-honored, quietly available travel tradition known as “vagabonding.”

Vagabonding involves taking an extended time-out from your normal life – six weeks, four months, two years – to travel the world on your own terms.

But beyond travel, vagabonding is an outlook on life. Vagabonding is about using the prosperity and possibility of the information age to increase your personal options instead of your personal possessions. Vagabonding is about looking for adventure in normal life, and normal life within adventure. Vagabonding is an attitude?a friendly interest in people, places, and things that makes a person an explorer in the truest, most vivid sense of the word.

Vagabonding is not a lifestyle, nor is it a trend. It’s just an uncommon way of looking at life – a value adjustment from which action naturally follows. And, as much as anything, vagabonding is about time – our only real commodity – and how we choose to use it.

Are you a vagabond?

As Walt Whitman says in “Song of the Open Road”:

From this hour I ordain myself loos’d of limits and imaginary lines, Going where I list, my own master total and absolute, Listening to others, considering well what they say, Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating, Gently, but with undeniable will divesting myself of the holds that would hold me.

Monique Trottier

Epicurean in Kitsilano — Vancouver, BC

Caucasian female, early 60s, sipping espresso and enjoying her little nook in the coffee house. Sunshine streaming in through the French doors.

Flesh and Blood: An Alex Delaware Novel, Jonathan Kellerman (Ballantine Books)

Lauren had been fifteen at referral. Thin file: one history-taking meeting with the parents followed by two sessions with the girl. Then a missed appointment, no explanation. The next day the father left a message canceling any future treatment. Unpaid balance for the final session; I’d made a halfhearted effort to collect, then written it off.

When old patients get in touch it’s usually because they’re doing great and want to brag, or exactly the opposite. Either way they tend to be people with whom I’ve connected. Lauren Teague didn’t qualify. Far from it. If anything, I was the last person she’d want to see. Why was her mother contacting me now?

Sweet coffee and the pleasures of psychological thrillers and mysteries. This is summer.

—Monique Trottier

Richmond, BC

Caucasian hipster grannie on orange scooter. Likely doesn’t realize how cool she is.

Water for Elephants, Sara Gruen (HarperCollins)

Page 316:

I stare forlornly at the windows of car 48, wondering how to break the news to Marlena that we now own an elephant, when she suddenly comes flying out the door, leaping from the platform like a gazelle. She hits the ground running, her arms and legs pumping.

I turn to follow her trajectory and immediately see why. The sheriff and the general manage of the Nesci Brothers are standing beside the menagerie tent, shaking hands and smiling. Her horses are lined up behind them, held by Nesci Brothers men.

Sara Gruen is one of those magical authors who let’s you taste the dirt in their words. Have you joined the circus?

Monique Trottier

Number 22, downtown bound — Vancouver

Asian female, with pink eye shadow, modern and hip in skinny jeans.

The Magician, Michael Scott (Delacorte Press)

Page 353:

“Oh, this is impossible,” she muttered. She was reluctant to use her powers, since it would reveal her location to the sphinx, but she had no other choice. Cupping her right hand, she allowed her aura to gather in her palm, where it puddled like mercury. She rested her hand lightly, almost gently, on the stone, then turned her hand over and allowed the raw power to pour from her palm and seep into the granite. The stone turned soft and soapy and then melted like candle wax. Thick globs of liquid rock fell away and disappeared into the darkness below.

In the absence of a new Harry Potter, “The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel” series by Michael Scott is clearly capturing the summer reading crowd in Vancouver. Having read this one myself, I concur with the School Library Journal’s remark that it is “a riveting fantasy.” The series features twins with special powers, magic, the myth of immortality, and the plot pace of a Dan Brown novel.

Skirting down Hemlock St. — Vancouver, BC

Rockin’ the board books, this 1-year old mite with curly blond locks is clearly ready for story-time anytime.

The Gruffalo, Julia Donaldson & Axel Scheffler (Campbell Books)

“He has terrible tusks, and terrible claws, and terrible teeth in his terrible jaws.” [Little Mouse to Fox on the features of his friend The Gruffalo]

“Where are you meeting him?”

“Here by these rocks, and his favourite food is roasted fox.”

“Roasted fox! I’m off!” Fox said.

“Goodbye, little mouse,” and away he sped.

“Silly old Fox! Doesn’t he know, there’s no such thing as a gruffalo?”

Among the hip and forward-thinking 1-year-old trendsetters are great books like Goodnight Gorilla and The Gruffalo, which feature fun twists in the story that make the books interesting for parents too.

BTW, books are not for throwing. Especially board books. I don’t care if the corners are rounded.

Although not yet 100% into The Gruffalo, this blond cupid is quickly learning to be a cunning little mouse himself.

—Monique Trottier

Number 22, travelling North on Burrard St. — Vancouver, BC

20-something skater girl with orange hair, wearing purple zebra-striped hoodie, unintentionally colour-coordinated with her copy of Michele Bardsley’s Book 5 in the Broken Heart, Oklahoma series about vampire mechanic and single mom, Simone Sweet.

Over My Dead Body, Michele Bardsley (Signet)

Chapter 1:

Brady was dead. And with Gran and Glory . . . I shook off the heinous thoughts. I’d already lost everything important to me. I was hollow inside, but at the same time, the power within was an uncurling viper, readying to strike. Brady’s blood throbbed inside me, giving me more strength than I’d ever had before.

“Damian, return to the festival and guard the Queen,” said Ruadan. “Take her to the hospital, Patrick. Dr. Merrick wants to see her.”

“I’m standing here,” I pointed out. “You don’t have to talk about me in third person.”

Ruadan and Patrick ignored me.

My gaze fell on the body of Brady. Ruadan magicked up a sheet to cover Brady. I was grateful for that kindness.

Vampires, humour, and sex. Better than Twilight? I’m no judge on that.

Monique Trottier

Kits Beach Starbucks, outside table — Vancouver, B.C.

Caucasian male, hipster, with shaggy blond curls poking out from under fedora, wearing jeans, plaid shirt (urban plaid), and drinking a vente triple-shot espresso.

The European Colonial Empires: 1815-1919, H.L. Wesseling (Longman)

Page 6:

The company system was encouraged, because the administrative costs were borne not by the state but by those who made the profit, namely the traders. In England various overseas trading companies had been founded as early as the 1560s and in 1600 a British East India Company was created there as well. In 1648 it established its headquarters in East India House, not far from the harbours and docks of London. In 1657 this undertaking received a charter and became a joint stock company. Its activities focused mainly on India and China.

The pretentions and stereotypes of my neighbourhood prevail in many ways, yet I do think this fellow was thoroughly enjoying his book.

Monique Trottier