Jane Yolen
One of my favorite short stories as a child was "Words of Power" from The Faerie Flag by Jane Yolen. I don't know exactly how old I was, but it was right at the time I had claimed words for myself, too old to be read to, old enough to have free run of the library, checking out everything and anything that looked interesting.
And I read many other Yolen books over the years, some of which have stuck with me, though never in the same way, and many of which have been lost in the recesses of the great lost library in my brain. (Indeed, part of the point of these reviews is to keep more books out of that great back storage room, as there are things on my have-read list from _last year_ that I know look back on and say "what on earth was that about?")
So I picked up her little book on writing with much confidence that there was _something_ for me in it, just as I had often found something in many of her 250-odd books that had come before it.
And once again, like the Faerie Flag book that started the journey nearly twenty years ago, it was almost as though Yolen had tapped into my soul and created this book just for my reading. Even her final interlude "A Wish from the Winter Queen", felt like it was for me, just me, specifically, and that I would punch anyone in the face who told me that such a thing was unlikely given that the illustrious writer and I have never met.
Of course, having the discerning mind of an adult, that great puzzle-solving intellect that ruins the suspension of disbelief, there were moments that rang less true, times when I thought "this is _not quite_ the book I needed. She has _not quite_ got me right, in this book she created just for me."
I think of the following from the chapter "mind over matter":
In the classic texts on writing-- which I have to admit I studied avidly, trying to find a way into this chapter-- four main points of view are discussed: Omniscient, First Person, Limited Omniscient, and Objective.
Now it's been years since I have given any serious thought to defining point of view. So here are some ideas about these four points of view, cribbed liberally from others.
Yolen is at her best when she is writing about what she cares about, about that which is important to her to pass along. And while her take on these important fundimentals is, as usual, beautiful, it lacks the soul of some other passages when she's more invested in the information she's transfering. That the book felt it needed to cover these basics was, I think, it's weak moment. Like the watermelon slice on the cover, there was so much to savor from Yolen's *joy* in writing, that these basic facts became much more like seeds-- fun to spit, but much less edible.
An Elemental Thing
Eliot Weinberger
I'm going to pimp out the amazon link for this one because (a) it's an excellent book and (b) New Directions is a wonderful little publishing house that doesn't take it's books out of print and has some wonderful gems in its collection.
The book itself I picked up randomly (actually, it was free swag. But the cover was rocking. I like sea things, if you haven't noticed.) and it's beautiful. From the inside cover:
Eliot Weinberger has taken the essay into unexplored territories on the borders of poetry and narrative where the only rule, according to the author, is that all the information must be verifiable.
And there is something deeply poetic about the whole thing, my favorite of the essays being "The Rhinoceros," a five segment account of this family of mammals, starting with both the original and translation of an 1834 Hawaiian newspaper article. Reading the original is worth it for the sound alone, and the comparison from that, with all of the lovely vowels, to the dry factual article translation itself, is just beautiful. And then segment two, a richly visual account of the history of rhinoceros brought to Europe between the 16th and 18th centuries, provides the perfect counterpoint.
Sellout.
I cannot get enough of this commercial. I have watched it so many times since I first heard it comming from the other room.
Seriously.
This song is my new favorite song of all times forever and ever I want it to be a longer song, I want to write it extra lyrics, it is my new bestest friend.
What won't you miss about 2007?
Submitted by uncagedbird.
I wont miss:
- The horrible data entry job I had for almost a year that made me want to jump out a window. (Seriously. I used to walk into my boss's office, stare out the window, tell him "just looking", and then leave again. And yet for some reason, he still said "I'm sorry to see you go" when I left.)
- Being a temp employee.
- That horrible broke and helpless feeling I had all summer as I tried to support two people on one temp salary.
- Coming home from classes after 11pm.
- Having glass explode on my back as I was getting ready for work... and then having to get new slippers because there was glass In My Slippers.
- Getting the flu.
- Finding out my mother will be going in for Yet More Surgery.
- Having my Goth Princess title usurped in class.
- "Trouble"
- Being fed steak cooked in bacon by our couchsurfer and the 20lb weight gain resulting thereof.
- Throwing out my back, and the residual backpain thereof.
- Shoulder pain from the new job.
- Finding out that my friend in Moldova isn't getting the letters I sent him.
- Working really hard to tread water and not feeling like I'm getting anywhere. Really, if I could sum up 2007 in a sentence, that would be how I feel about it. I tried Really Hard. I was stressed To The Max. But now it's a year later, and I feel like I have very little to show for it, other than feeling like Now, Finally, some progress might be possible.
Here's the list of New Year's resolutions I would have made when I first got serious about writing if I'd known then what I know now:
1. No matter what, write what I want to read. Connie Willis told me once, "Remember what you liked about science fiction in the first place." That means to me that I should tell the stories only I can tell. Don't worry about what anyone else is writing. Don't worry about what I think is currently popular or selling (besides, whatever looks popular to me now was what was popular with editors six months to a year ago---who knows what they want now? Why not make it what I'm writing?)
2. Write consistently. Don't do something stupid like let two months go by without actual writing happening. Those are not only two months that I will never get back, but also writing is about learning and growing. I'll be two months behind where I could have been in growth too. Writing consistently will have the added benefit of making me think about writing consistently. Someone asked me where my ideas come from, and the real answer is they come because I'm consistently thinking about writerly concerns. I don't sit at my computer and then say, "What should I write about?" I always have the flickering of an idea ready to go.
3. Read as a writer. Go back to the work I really admire and read with the idea of learning from a master. Writers have the advantage of being in a profession that allows them to apprentice to anyone. If I want to learn at the knee of William Shakespeare, I can. If I want to enter a dialog with Ray Bradbury, I can. All I need to do is listen to what the writers I admire have to say (through their writing) and take notes.
4. Be brave. Take risks on the page. These can be risks with language, risks with plot, risks with theme. No matter what, don't write stuff that feels "safe" because I want to avoid criticism or because I've been praised for telling that kind of story before. Remember Neil Young. He's never done the same album twice.
5. Be kind and reach out to other writers. If I read something I like, write the author and tell her so. It's amazing to me how isolating this profession can be. I remember when I published my first story in Analog. I thought, "Oh, my god! I'm famous." Hmmm. Not the case. I loved it though when an established pro sent me a e-mail later saying he liked the story. That meant a lot to me. The writing world is small, really, and there aren't many folks in it. If we aren't kind to each other, who will be kind to us?
6. Be thick skinned, but listen. I got a rejection once where the editor scrawled at the bottom of my cover letter, "Why don't you try telling a story next time." I laughed it off, and then looked at the manuscript again to see if I'd actually told a story. I had one story that was bounced 39 times. About half the time the editors who responded to it said that the story seemed "slow" or "long" to them. I used Ken Rand's 10% Solution on the piece, lost about 1,400 words out of a 7,700 word manuscript, and sold it to the next market. This gives me resolution 6a. Learn quicker.
Now, if I had just drawn up this list of resolutions in 1983, when I really started thinking of myself as a writer who was trying to write publishable work.
By Jim Van Pelt at http://jimvanpelt.livejournal.com/102016.html
My boyfriend and his best bud have spent the holiday recording music and making an amp out of a ritz cracker box. I bring you photos, because I have a new digital camera:
The raw parts.
**Interlude**
The electric instrument they were working with was a Very Very old inherited bass that someone had ripped the frets out of. It had never worked right. At this stage, they ended up taking the bass apart, finding broken parts in this, and fixing a bass. I missed being a good photojournalist at this stage as my camera battery was dead.
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Tomorrow we work on recording more music. I'm guest vocalist on the Giant Baby song "When Your Boyfriend's Dead". It sounds a little bit like Moldy Peaches.
I have always had a rather large problem surrounding the whole indigo aura phenomenon—starting with the hype that 90% of todays children belong, and yet being one is “very special”. Seems to me that at that rate, all the other established aura colors are much more “special” and “precious” than the swarms of munchkins who apparently need to be all be treated differently than their non-indigo peers. (Send Susie and Jamie out of the classroom for a few hours… they’re the only non-indigos here.)
Have deep empathy for others, yet an intolerance of stupidity. Wendy Chapman writes this as one of the features defining an indigo adult. Well, if so, I call bullshit on 90% of the sort of mindless dribble that goes into how people talk about the indigo phenomenon.
Some of it seems like a way for those who are uncomfortable with breaking from their Christian roots to still embrace a more metaphysical approach to their worldview than is traditional to their faith. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not talking down on the Christian worldview, and I think that there is plenty of room for the spiritual and metaphysical within it. You just have to work harder for it (see: Martyr) But the indigo movement, because it doesn’t directly conflict with scriptural belief the way pagan faiths do, provides a lot of places for the Christian believer to suddenly believe all the wonky “fluffybunnypaganmagyck” nonsense that plagues that community, without having to separate themselves from the Lord our God.
Here’s the thing. I come out 100% indigo on any test you throw at me, including others’ “observations” of my color. It was so consistant at first I thought the personality test versions were skewed, and that everyone would be drawn to answer in an “indigo” way. It was pretty much only after I had everyone I know take the Barbara Bowers’s What Color is Your Aura? (the least fluffy bunny out of any I’ve seen) multiple choice that I was convinced that “indigo” wasn’t just a default answer (although I do still think that there are plenty of places, especially ones that just list “classic traits” that leave everyone feeling “hey that’s just like me”).
And when it comes to “metaphysical experiences”... I’m all over the map. There’s the ones that send you reeling, and the ones where you’re just left with a sense of “nope, not getting on that train, ‘cause it’s going to get stuck”. But I would never, ever presume to be more, or special, or gifted, or “the next stage in human evolution” for having them. And I resent having those labels put on me as much as I resent authority and all those other “classic indigo” rebellion traits.
So I guess I’m here, ranting like I own a soapbox, as an effort to find some sort of “real meaning” behind the new agey hock surrounding it (how very indigo of me). I’m not looking to be part of a “special club of me and everyone who thinks like me”, and I’m not interested in having my existance either validated or exploited by those seeking to cash in on this “new generation”. Real advice or dialogue is welcome. Pandering and nonsense will be mocked with every dark blue fiber of my soul.
I threw out my back right before writing my final paper on gothic picture books. The pictures of my workspace on the floor ended up being somewhat amusing... I share them with you here:
There's something about the fact that I was working on a pop-up book at the time that made it especially entertaining. And I love the page of "Are You My Mother" that I was on at the time.
Just in case y'all thought that I was taking the easy way out by studying children's lit.
Show us your favorite literary character.
(Because who can say no to an evening of picture books on a rainy November evening?
...I mean ...this is for purely intellectual study... you understand...)
So, for my long lit paper this term, I'm writing about the vague catagory of "gothic picture books". What do the children whose favorite Muppets are Oscar for his attitude, and The Count for his style like to read? What texts prepare children for Scary Stories to tell in the Dark, and a Series of Unfortunate Events, and the Spiderwick series? And what can be said about them?
That's the project, and I'm still open to new book suggestions.
However, there's nothing like work you should be doing to make you dig into work that can wait, and I've got so much writing hanging over my head, a blog post reviewing my recent forrays into the books for spawn seemed just the way to relax on a Friday evening. So without further ado:
Fortunately, by Remy Charlip:
Remy Charlip is without argument my favorite picture book writer from childhood. I DEVOURED Arm in Arm as a child... quite literally destroyed it, and then took the covers that had fallen off and put them up on my wall like movie posters.
A couple of years ago, my mother spent weeks before Christmas, finding my sister and I new used copies, with the orignal cover illustrations. It was pretty magical.
Anyway, I had always bypassed Fortunately as being simplistic. It's narratively cohesive, if only in the sense that each page is a new Deus Ex Machina for the character to deal with or adjust to. But after
Brian Selznick credited it for being part of the Hugo Cabret invention, I just had to pick up a copy. The back and forth nature of the page, the way turning a page creates movement, and time, really is something to love. Reading it silently to yourself really doesn't do the trick, and the more you think about the "what happens", the more you wonder about why a book like this could possibly work. But reading it aloud, the surprise at every new page, even if you understand the structure and know the next page will be a bad (or good) event, is something just magical.
The Mysteries of Harris Burdick, by Chris Van Allsburg is such a classic, I don't know why I didn't own a copy before. I'd glanced through it before, and heard them talk about it on NPR, but tonight was the first time I really sat down with a copy. I'm currently reflected on the narrative arc of a piece which is supposedly about different stories... there's still a strongly noticable development where the pictures in the begining... the sleeping child, the thing under the rug, are points that imply a beginning of a tale, while things like the catipillars spelling goodbye, a picture that comes near the end, serve as a warning that this tale, like the "story" the picture is "taken from" is coming to a close.
So, I heard a rumor that Steampunk hit Newsweek for Halloween. Ah, Newsweek, when will you stop being a month behind on my life? I've been who you've watched to decide what cool culture is ever since that summer I was obsessed with Ryōri no tetsujin.
Anyway, how could I not pick up this little gem? It has basically nothing to do with my paper, but dude, it's got a Dream Vacuum Machine in the title, and he's wearing a top hat. I do wish, however, it had been an idealized vacuum machine, as opposed to a machine for vacuuming dreams, but perhaps that is neither here nor there. It's a fun little time; I especially enjoyed when Sneem becomes depressed, and hides in his room under an umbrella to prevent being hit by any sunlight sneaking in through the window. I mean, that's how I spend every weekend, so I could really relate.
Boris and Bella, by Carolyn Crimi
The boyfriend saw me reading this, and asked if I was reading the picture biography of Tim Burton. Grimly's illustrations are really the stuff I was looking for when I was a child myself. And while I cringe at Crimi's writing, that the two of them become a couple because they're "just the right size", I am as much of a sucker as Bella for Boris any time I see him with a shrunken head or skull teacup. (And really, I'd be right there next to her with the neon green dreads if I didn't have a day job. Those are the win!)
Speaking of which, and I'm scared to even mention this in a summary of otherwise children's books, I picked up Sarita Vendetta's particularly gory version of Strewwelpeter (for academic reasons only, you understand) the other day. I haven't read all of it, although I've flipped through her illustrations, and am familiar with the stories. Her illustration for "Jimmy Sliderlegs" stops me every time, but I do have to say I was a little disappointed with her illustration for my favorite story, "The Story of Augustus Who Would Not Have Any Soup". Judging from the scale of the arm reaching in from the side as if to feed him, it seems as if she was almost going for a somewhat fetus-esque image, but I feel like this could have been further developed. I found myself flipping back to look at the 1915 Winston printed version, with the boy that turns into an almost cave-painted looking stick figure.
I'm getting tired, and this is getting rediculously long, but I just can't help talking about this little gem. Gothic, stick-legged boy, and the little pet lizard that follows him like a puppy-- and not the slightest mention of Halloween anywhere to be found-- this is the picture book that is year-round gothic fun.
And oh! the melodrama! How delicious!
Then his stomach began to ache;
it growled and turned and spun.
"This is it," Mucumber thought.
"The dying has begun."And so upstairs he ran,
with teardrops in his eyes.
"I guess I'll lied down on the bed,
and then I'll wait to die."
All I have to say about this is that it's a beautiful example of prolepsis and dramatic irony, and that anyone who claims that children can't comprehend advanced forms of humor is sadly ignorant themselves. We know that there will be No Cat at the end. And sure enough, throughout the text, the actions of the cat and the witch build to that inevitable end. And yet...
Well. I was still totally satisfied. And amused.
Last one, promise. This book gets a bad rap from a lot of parents. And maybe the girl sitting in an armchair where what initially looks like a rug is actually a running horde of rats is a bit grotesque. But the fact that I bought this book for it's purported "gothic" nature is a sign that some people are far too obsessed with the fluff and the bunnies. Not all imaginations are pure or simple. This is a far cry from confronting the darkness, and is the pefect example of the crowbar of separation between the gothic and the surreal. Even if Yvonne is waiting with an axe.
Recent Comments
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purplehayes51708 said:
[this is good]This book is EXCELLENT! I wish they were making it into a movie, as opposed to The Lovely Bones. read more
on Elsewhere (Ala Notable Children's Books. Older Readers) -
J. D. Nelson said:
[das ist gut]Doublestuff x-sharp cheddar n chonklit! Strange phaces of the Moog, bandanagamma, Indyanner, Lowell, MA! Halfdeaf, Canadian gloves + Gojira. read more
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Jerry Griswold said:
It was so encouraging to read your praise of my new book Feeling Like a Kid: Childhood and Children's Literature... read more
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New Age Amazon said:
...that made perfect sense to me.I think we're just both doomed. read more
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