Saturday, July 24, 2010
K, Dis One's For Gabi!
Oh hey there!
My sister Gabrielle has started her very first blog, which has inspired me to get back on here, after almost a month's unintentional hiatus. The truth is, she was the writer in the family first. She was doing it for as long as I can remember, perhaps as long as she can, too. Granted, I was making comic books and story boards for movies when I was a five-year old, but that always belonged more to the realm of drawing, in my mind. It was nothing like writing out a picture-less story, and being a true Author. I started doing it after she did, trying to be like her. Only I would start a story and never finish; I never had the stamina to finish one. But anyway, I've been inspired once again to keep it up, thanks to my sis.
It's been a fast-paced run through July. And frankly, that's okay by me. The puppet show has been going very well, and we've just finished out Salt Spring tour. We're back in Vic for a week, and then we hit the road once again!
I've developed a very interesting relationship with books, in the past year or so. You might even call it an intuitive one. I find that timing is important when it comes to reading. I won't touch a book, no matter how much of a gem it is, unless it or a subject it deals with has been on my mind for some time. Until then, I won't give it all the attention it deserves. Sometimes a book can put itself in my mind where it wasn't before, and then I'll see if it takes root. But it can't be forced. So if you recommend a book to me, please don't be offended if I turn it down or never bother to pick it up. No matter how good it is it probably just isn't the right time, so I won't be interested.
For instance, having read a couple of C.S. Lewis' books in the past few months, as well as some of his literary essays, I've been thinking more and more about his fiction. So in all likelihood I might end up reading his sci-fi series, and maybe the Chronicles of Narnia, one of these days. Reading his works has also led me in the direction of George MacDonald, a huge influence on Lewis, so I read the Princess and the Goblin. I might find my way back to him pretty soon as well, perhaps to read his adult fairy tale Phantastes. Ever since reading Peter Pan the play, I've been curious about the novel Barrie made out of it, so that is another one I want to get my hands on very soon. My point is, this is how my mind and appetite for reading works. I know what I want. And it might be more difficult, though not impossible, to come in from the outside and plant the desire for something entirely different. It all depends. Please don't stop recommending books, because there is no way that you can know whether I want to read it or not, but like I said, don't be offended if I turn it down. If it really is such a page-turner and just up my alley, then rest assured I will get to it in due time, and it's my loss alone for not reading it, right?
In the meantime, I'm on a mission to read more post-Tolkien fantasy, a whole world which I snubbed before I even gave it a chance. in grade 7 I read The Sword of Shannara by Terry Brooks, and assumed that most fantasy from the 60's onward was like that, so I didn't bother. I read The Eye of the World by Robert Jordan, and thought it was alright. I can't remember what it's about at all. It simply didn't leave an impression. BUT, those are only two writers in the genre, and there are many. Most of them probably are, to my tastes, crap, but I shouldn't spite the jewels for being rare. Currently I'm reading the Ursula K. Le Guin's novel A Wizard of Earthsea. She is highly acclaimed, and not just a New York Times bestseller, so I'm hopeful. I'll let you know how it goes. What's everyone else reading, these days?
My sister Gabrielle has started her very first blog, which has inspired me to get back on here, after almost a month's unintentional hiatus. The truth is, she was the writer in the family first. She was doing it for as long as I can remember, perhaps as long as she can, too. Granted, I was making comic books and story boards for movies when I was a five-year old, but that always belonged more to the realm of drawing, in my mind. It was nothing like writing out a picture-less story, and being a true Author. I started doing it after she did, trying to be like her. Only I would start a story and never finish; I never had the stamina to finish one. But anyway, I've been inspired once again to keep it up, thanks to my sis.
It's been a fast-paced run through July. And frankly, that's okay by me. The puppet show has been going very well, and we've just finished out Salt Spring tour. We're back in Vic for a week, and then we hit the road once again!
I've developed a very interesting relationship with books, in the past year or so. You might even call it an intuitive one. I find that timing is important when it comes to reading. I won't touch a book, no matter how much of a gem it is, unless it or a subject it deals with has been on my mind for some time. Until then, I won't give it all the attention it deserves. Sometimes a book can put itself in my mind where it wasn't before, and then I'll see if it takes root. But it can't be forced. So if you recommend a book to me, please don't be offended if I turn it down or never bother to pick it up. No matter how good it is it probably just isn't the right time, so I won't be interested.
For instance, having read a couple of C.S. Lewis' books in the past few months, as well as some of his literary essays, I've been thinking more and more about his fiction. So in all likelihood I might end up reading his sci-fi series, and maybe the Chronicles of Narnia, one of these days. Reading his works has also led me in the direction of George MacDonald, a huge influence on Lewis, so I read the Princess and the Goblin. I might find my way back to him pretty soon as well, perhaps to read his adult fairy tale Phantastes. Ever since reading Peter Pan the play, I've been curious about the novel Barrie made out of it, so that is another one I want to get my hands on very soon. My point is, this is how my mind and appetite for reading works. I know what I want. And it might be more difficult, though not impossible, to come in from the outside and plant the desire for something entirely different. It all depends. Please don't stop recommending books, because there is no way that you can know whether I want to read it or not, but like I said, don't be offended if I turn it down. If it really is such a page-turner and just up my alley, then rest assured I will get to it in due time, and it's my loss alone for not reading it, right?
In the meantime, I'm on a mission to read more post-Tolkien fantasy, a whole world which I snubbed before I even gave it a chance. in grade 7 I read The Sword of Shannara by Terry Brooks, and assumed that most fantasy from the 60's onward was like that, so I didn't bother. I read The Eye of the World by Robert Jordan, and thought it was alright. I can't remember what it's about at all. It simply didn't leave an impression. BUT, those are only two writers in the genre, and there are many. Most of them probably are, to my tastes, crap, but I shouldn't spite the jewels for being rare. Currently I'm reading the Ursula K. Le Guin's novel A Wizard of Earthsea. She is highly acclaimed, and not just a New York Times bestseller, so I'm hopeful. I'll let you know how it goes. What's everyone else reading, these days?
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Happy Canada Day, Everyone!
And happy Dominion Day, to you, Andrew Cohen.
143 years and we still haven't quite moved out of our parents' house.
143 years and we still haven't quite moved out of our parents' house.
Tarantino's got nothing on Homer
I'd like to read to you a couple of passages from the Odyssey, Book 9:
'He leapt to his feet, lunged with his hands among my fellows, snatched up two of them like whelps and rapped their heads against the ground. The brains burst out from their skulls and were spattere over the cave's floor, while he broke them limb from limb, and supped off them to the last shred, eating ravenously like a mountain lion, everything--bowels and flesh and bones, even the marrow in the bones. We wept and raised out hands to Zeus in horror at this crime committed before our eyes: yet there was nothing we could do. Wherefore Cyclops, unhindered, filled his great gut with the human flesh, and washed it down with raw milk. Afterwards he stretched himself out across the cavern, among the flocks, and slept.'
And also, from Book 9:
'Some power from on high breathed into us all a mad courage, by whose strength they charged with the great spear and stabbed its sharp point right into [the Cyclops'] eye. I flung my weight upon it from above so that it bored home. As a shipbuilder's bit drills its timbers, steadily twirling by reason of the drag from the hide thong which his mates underneath pull to and fro alternately, so we held the burning pointed stake in his eye and spun it, till the boiling blood bubbled about its pillar of fire. Eyebrows, with eyelids shrivelled and stank in the blast of his consuming eyeball: yea, the very roots of the eye crackled into flame.'
Good old classical literature.
'He leapt to his feet, lunged with his hands among my fellows, snatched up two of them like whelps and rapped their heads against the ground. The brains burst out from their skulls and were spattere over the cave's floor, while he broke them limb from limb, and supped off them to the last shred, eating ravenously like a mountain lion, everything--bowels and flesh and bones, even the marrow in the bones. We wept and raised out hands to Zeus in horror at this crime committed before our eyes: yet there was nothing we could do. Wherefore Cyclops, unhindered, filled his great gut with the human flesh, and washed it down with raw milk. Afterwards he stretched himself out across the cavern, among the flocks, and slept.'
And also, from Book 9:
'Some power from on high breathed into us all a mad courage, by whose strength they charged with the great spear and stabbed its sharp point right into [the Cyclops'] eye. I flung my weight upon it from above so that it bored home. As a shipbuilder's bit drills its timbers, steadily twirling by reason of the drag from the hide thong which his mates underneath pull to and fro alternately, so we held the burning pointed stake in his eye and spun it, till the boiling blood bubbled about its pillar of fire. Eyebrows, with eyelids shrivelled and stank in the blast of his consuming eyeball: yea, the very roots of the eye crackled into flame.'
Good old classical literature.
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