Category Archives: Reading

So many books…

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…so little time.

My Library has (as they say) joined the 21st century.

In addition to an on-line catalog and a list of my books (sorted by due date), the library now provides a means to renew and reserve materials on-line.

I have fallen in love with the reserve feature, as I’ve been looking for titles to expand my book-100.

Now when I see a book or series recommended, I will go to my library’s page and reserve it if it’s in their system. They pull the book from whatever its home library is, and send it to the one I visit.

Lovely system, having the books waiting for me when I walk in.

The only difficulty is on days like today, when I come home with 5 items and suffer the question of where to start.

It’s a relief too, though, to even have that choice.

I think the last novel I’ve read all the way through was The Sherwood Ring and that was a whole month ago. I keep starting things and being disgusted or bored and unwilling to waste my time on something I don’t find delightful.

“Life is short enough,” you know?

Of course, this is the reason my mom says she won’t read/watch anything she knows is sad, no matter how highly I recomend them.

While I agree with her to an extent, there are some things I’ve read where I felt that the beauty in/despite the sadness was worth it.

That said, I now have a collection of “pre-Islamic” tales from Persia, and two novels, all of which look very promising.

My Work

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Let me do my work from day to day,
In fields or forests, at the desk or loom,
In roaring market place or tranquil room.
Let me find it in my heart to say,
When vagrant wishes beckon me astray,
“This is my work – my blessing, not my doom –
Of all who live I am the only one by whom
this work can best be done in my own way.”
Then I shall see it, not too great or small,
To suit my spirit and arouse my powers.
Then shall I cheerfully greet the laboring hours,
And cheerfully turn, when long shadows fall
at eventide, to play and love and rest,
Because I know for me my work was best.

Henry Van Dyke

I got *a lot* done today. Forgive me a list of accomplishments.

  • Cleaned girls’ room despite their lack of interest/assistance
    • The lack of interest proved useful by allowing me to actively (not secretively) thin their playthings.
  • Tidied (that work looks wrong…) all the back of the house
  • Vacuumed the (finally!) cleared floors in back of house
  • Directed the girls’ finishing their daily chore (emptying dishwasher)
  • Defused numerous spats related to being tired and feeling “deprived” at not being able to play or go outside while they dragged their feet over getting their room finished.
  • Read with the girls

This all before noon. At noon, two little cousins arrived and began round two of my day

  • Babysat two extra kids for an hour– played outside with two babies and three preschoolers, got some great pix.
  • Made and supervised lunch
  • Read-to and got all three kids to nap at once
  • Cleaned both bathrooms
  • Swept kitchen and dining room (this has been daily through Spring season– I am very thankful for our new laminate floors)
  • Mopping kitchen and dining room (desperately needed)

All this cleaning was at the direct expense of cooking– I had nothing planned/ready for dinner and we ended up snacking/convenience-fooding our way through the evening.

But I really didn’t mind.

All this on top of yesterday’s accomplishment of getting *all* the laundry washed and folded has left me tired (a little) but very pleased with what I’ve accomplished.

Revisiting Poems

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I tripped across the original post that had these along with another, and it reminded me of my clumsy attempt to explain my use for poetry.

That said, I wanted to put them back up here to be read again, and then I’m going to go read in the living room where my husband is working on his computer.

I’ve felt off-balance all day…

~ ~ ~

And another regrettable thing about death
Is the ceasing of your own brand of magic,
Which took a whole life to develop and market—
The quips, the witticisms, the slant
Adjusted to just a few, those loved ones nearest
The lip of the stage…

From Perfection Wasted by John Updyke

~

We know little
We can tell less
But one thing I know
One thing I can tell
I will see you again in Jerusalem
Which is of such beauty
No matter what country you come from
You will be more at home there
Than ever with father or mother
Than even with lover or friend
And once we’re within her borders
Death will hunt us in vain

From Four Poems in One by Anne Porter

 

 

Indirect Attack

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In the movie Amazing Grace, after years of “frontal” attacks failed, the opponents of the slave trade decided to dog-leg an attack.

By imposing a restriction that would put the pinch on slave ships, the law made it hard to continue in the current system, even while it remained legal.

I have not been able to determine the veracity of that segment (though it was very good storytelling), but have wondered if the Pro-Life supporters have ever looked for or found a similar sideways attack.

The law seeking to make the murder of a pregnant woman a double-homicide is the closest I can think of (as no “average American” could object to the emotional appeal of the law).

However, it was strongly opposed by the abortion supporters who recognized the assault it was on their “values.”

(The chief of those values being the inconsequence of the “by-product of pregnancy.”)

~ ~ ~

A suggestion I have (though part of me hopes it’s out-dated) is to begin making surprise-inspections of all clinics that perform any sort of in-room surgical procedure, to verify each is in compliance with the codes of cleanliness and sterility expected of surgical sites.

This would, by the specific wording of the bill, include abortion-providers.

Years ago I remember hearing pro-lifers (and abortion survivors) lament that there was no oversight to abortion clinics, and a claim was out there that veterinarians had more regulation and oversight than abortionists did.

There have also been some serious allegations of post-abortion deaths directly linked to improperly cleaned surfaces and/or equipment.

Even if things have cleaned up since then (and without oversight, how do we know?), instituting equivalent governmental oversight would continue to chip away at the sacred, all-knowing, infallible sanctity of “Choice,” and those revered suppliers of choice.

Something that could only help the fight for the unborn.

As such, I’m sure this too would be recognized for the attack it is.

But, as with Laci and Connor’s Law that acknowledges two victims when a pregnant woman is killed, my hope and prayer is that the basic sense of such requirements would help it withstand the attacks against what it represents.

The Washington Post had an excellent quote from President Bush.

“Today’s decision affirms that the Constitution does not stand in the way of the people’s representatives enacting laws reflecting the compassion and humanity of America.”

I have never dwelt much on what Bush says, but that line just thrilled me.

Yes, humanity is woefully fallible, but nearly all the good work God has done since creation has been accomplished through the will, minds and hands of we who are created in His image.

The Difference Between Fantasy and Sci-Fi

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I loved this distiction/definition from The Fantasy Tradition in American Literature by Brian Attebery.

Any narrative which includes as a significant part of its make-up some violation of that which the author clearly believes is natural law– that is fantasy….

And fantasy treats these impossibilities without hesitation, without doubt, without any attempt to reconcile them with our intellectual understanding of the workings of the world or to make us believe that such things could under any circumstances come true.

I like this definition very much, and even more so when Attebery places it in contrast to science fiction (so frequently lumped with fantasy as a matter of course):

Science fiction spends much of its time convincing the reader that its seeming impossibilities are in fact explainable if we extrapolate from the world and science that we know.

This distinction is very good for the way my mind works. By giving myself “permision” to accept that the fantastic needs no explanation, I free up all sorts of brain cells to focus on what I’m actually interested in.

First Lines

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Following Kaye’s lead, I am doing a first-lines post.

Only, to make my list unique (I have seen a number of these floating around in the last few months), I am choosing books I have read that I haven’t seen in a list of first-lines.

Most of mine are from children’s books, as I feel these are woefully under-represented in lists of merit.

Commencing:

Tawny shivered, not understanding this and not liking it because he did not understand.

Desert Dog by Jim Kjelgaard (a last name I still can’t pronounce)

The city was silently bloating in the hot sun, rotting like the thousands of bodies that lay where they had fallen in street battles.

A Voice in the Wind by Francine Rivers

When Mary Lennox was sent to Misselthwaite Manor to live with her uncle everybody said she was the most disagreeable-looking child anyone had ever seen. It was true, too.

The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett

However perilous and astonishing the exploits of the Mouse Prisoners’ Aid Society, each separate adventure always started off at a formal General Meeting. (Corporate rules and regulations, order and decorum, provide a solid foundation for individual heroism.)

Miss Bianca by Margery Sharp

There is no lake at Camp Green Lake.

Holes by Louis Sachar

Linderwall was a large kingdom, just east of the Mountains of Morning, where philosophers were respected and the number five was fashionable.

Dealing With Dragons by Patricia C. Wrede

“She won’t be angry with me,” said Alicia. “Why should she, Kate? Every word I wrote her was true. This is the most horrible place in the world. You know it is.”

The Perilous Gard by Elizabeth Marie Pope

Long ago a river divided two kingdoms– one great and one small.

The Bridge by Jeri Massi

It was Old Bess, the Wise Woman of the village, who first suspected the baby at her daughter’s house was a changeling.

The Moorchild by Eloise McGraw

 

I’ve been writing stories for a long time…

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Here are a few tags I thought might sound interesting. I’ve been cruising through old files tonight (yes, avoiding my current novel– telling myself I’m too distracted/tired to work on it just now…)

Oh, help! Marika thought desperately. Will no one rescue me?

She huddled absurdly under her bed in the darkness, she, nearly 13, and almost too big to fit. She’d played at this game before. The memory seemed obscene now.

She’d played at losing her parents and being alone in the house when robbers came– just for the safely contained thrill of fear.

And now it was coming true. She stuffed the fabric of her skirt into her mouth to muffle the choking sobs. She was not a coward, but this was too much for her.

The snuffling sounds of dogs came into the large bedchamber, and Marika wished she could faint, certain she’d be quieter if unconscious.

~ ~ ~

Then this, like my current work, is from a fairytale:

Two young men, born on the same day into very different families and circumstances, both expect to marry the same young woman.

It just so happens the girl they both want is under a curse from a slighted fairy (aren’t all the good ones?), and because of that something bad will happen if she ever is touched by the light of day. She just doesn’t know what.

Only because she doesn’t have the advantage of having read the title of the story, of course. It’s from The Orange Fairy Book, if I remember correctly, and is called The White Doe.

~ ~ ~ Continue reading »

from The Sherwood Ring

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This was just delicious. I love Pope’s imagery (someday I’ll make a post of my faves from Perilous Gard).

Outside the sun was shining and the birds were singing and the open windows were clustered round with yellow roses…but I was in no mood to do anything but sit on the floor with my back to the garden and think bitterly about my wrongs and grievances.

There were a great many of them; and I was getting a certain miserable satisfaction from laying them all out and rummaging through them over and over again.

The Reading List has Changed Again

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And I won’t inflict this one on you, because it’s far too long.

A book review over at Writer…Interrupted prompted me to buy the book. It is a sequel, and I enjoyed the style of the original.

(And Jay was buying himself a camera, so you could call it a kickback.)

Like the review said, this author recommends reading 100 works in your genre/field (source/inspiration works are allowed to be counted) before you begin.

She acknowledges you are not likely to be able to finish all 100 before you are impelled to begin your own work, but to continue hammering away until you know your niche cold.

So I started making a list of all the books I have, and have loved, and have drawn from (my folktale collections, for example), that are related to what I’m writing (Novelized fairy/folk-tale/YA fantasy).

Then I added the books I’d read that I hadn’t liked, and new books from authors I’d read only one book from, where the additional works were of the same pocket. I am currently at 67 titles.

This is somehow a surprise to me (to come in so far under the mark).

If anyone has some suggestions to round out my list, I’m open to hearing them.

So far I have more than one work (some read, some to read) on the list from Robin McKinley, Jo Napoli, Shannon Hale, Jeri Massi, Cornelia Funke, P.B. Kerr, and Gail Levine and Patricia Wrede. I also have J.K. Rowling and Philip Pullman, but I think I added them for padding because I was trying to make count.

Pullman (I only got through the first 1 ½-2 of his Dark Materials set) was one of those on my list I don’t recomend, but was probably worth reading as a genre guide.

The first genre-specific reading I’ve started for this marathon (and I already am hooked) is The Sherwood Ring by Elizabeth Marie Pope.

This was a natural beginning, as I’m mentioned many times before that I adore her Perilous Gard. This was the only other book she wrote, and that nearly 20-years before.

Gives me a bit of perspective, certainly.

Changing Habits

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From Becoming a Writer by Dorothea Brande, originally published 1934.

Old habits are strong and jealous. They will not be displaced easily if they get any warning that such plans are afoot; they will fight for their existence with subtlety and persuasiveness.

If they are too radically attacked they will revenge themselves; you will find, after a day or two of extraordinarily virtuous effort, all sorts of reasons why the new method is not good for you, why you should alter it in line with this or that old habit, or actually abandon it entirely.

In the end you will have had no good from the new advice; but you will almost certainly feel you have given it a fair trial and it has failed.

Your mistake will have been that you tired yourself out and exhausted your good intentions before you had a chance to see whether or not the program was the right one for you.

This resonated with me– as few “motivational” essays or calls for “visualization” have:

This is not a plea to abandon the will. There will be times and occasions when only the whole weight of the will brought to bear on the matter in hand will prove effective.

But the imagination plays a far greater role in our lives than we customarily acknowledge, though any teacher can tell you how great an advocate the imagination is when a child is to be led into a changed course.