Thirteenth Tale's Effect

It is rare that a book strikes me to this degree. “The Thirteenth Tale” by Diane Setterfield is a love letter to the power of story. Cornelia Funke covered the love of books with her Inkheart trilogy for children, adding a measure of magic by the concept of ‘Silvertongues’ – readers who could bring books to life. Even in Holly Black’s short story “Paper beats Scissors,” there draws hints of a supernatural power of parallel even more beautiful – people who could insert objects into the plots of a written story and affect the reactions of familiar characters to take on different paths.

But, Oh! “The Thirteenth Tale” has no claims of magic, only natural madness. It features Vida Winter, a best selling novelist who never tells the truth of her own life. She compares writing to compost – her past and ideas are left alone until the two decompose and enrich the mental soil, wherefrom grows a new novel. Ms. Winter’s ancestry is novel worthy in itself – its macabre darkness befits a gothic era’s nightmare. Layered tales, told by an experienced writer as written through the lens of the author’s first published work. It is a formula that is new and fresh in execution as well as old in feel and familiarity. I, the reader, am captivated by the plotting and wisdom spoken – the lines spoken are a delight to experience and delicious in description.

Yes! Yes! It makes me want to write – this is a glory and honor, a playground of possibilities. Like new wine in old wineskins, the ecstasy of “storyness” overflows off the page and into my mind. I, too, long to create and inhabit my own world. There is a problem raised in all this though – how far down the rabbit hole (Alice in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll) before I reach a Point of No Return (Andrew Lloyd Webber, Phantom of the Opera)? How far will my dreams (Inception, Christopher Nolan) fall before my perception of fantasy and reality becomes warped and unrealistic? Is madness forgivable if it provides a roller coaster ride between Delirium and Despair? (Sandman, Neil Gaiman).

So many characters, so many filters through which to see our environments. “The Thirteenth Tale” moves me to question, to life, to want more. One of my private paradox wishes is for a Book that never has an End. (Not the Neverending Story, that is silly talk), but isn’t that like a dim reflection of a life – it can be so beautiful, so fragile, so complacent. Sometimes we need a story to put our lives into context and perspective. I think about the end of the C.S. Lewis’s novel “Till We have Faces” in which the girl who had narrated the bulk of the book is brought to trial before the Greek pantheon whom she had blamed for most of her life’s guilt and problems. She becomes ashamed when her accusations are spoken aloud – they ring of childlike complaints and foolishness. She loses heart and counts her life’s purpose as squandered. Yet, Lewis doesn’t leave us with her despair, he allows one of her companions in life to write an epitaph to her life. Her friend honors the protagonist in a genuine belief that she made a difference on her time on earth. However, she was so focused on her failures that she didn’t see all the people whose lives touched hers and were made better.

At this time of the year, it is appropriately cliché to say this is truly “A wonderful life” after all. However, it doesn’t make it any less true.

Forthcoming, I hope.

In my wanderings at a library, I had been baffled about locating a section under the Library of Congress format. It seemed wherever I turned, there were dry textbooks, dust-jacketless, looking bland and unrelatable. But I hit a stroke of luck when coming upon the essay and poetry section. I grew excited as the shelves yielded old and interesting treasures: A C.S. Lewis book about George MacDonald; two by G.K. Chesterton concerning Robert Browning and Modernism respectively; Yesterday and Tomorrow by Louis Untermeyer.

But then my eye fell upon a smaller book. Its maroon binding spelled out in golden script Virginibus Puerisque, by Robert Louis Stevenson.
I decided it was worth further inspection - this was the author of classics such as Treasure Island and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I walked quickly down the stairs with my finds, eager to check them out and ensure that I could purvey them at my leisure.

I wished I had more space and the shoulder satchel I had brought along, but made do with rearranging the current contents to accommodate the borrowed literature. But I felt compelled to begin the Stevenson book - the leather cover and embossed swirls intrigued me. I opened the introduction and read that it was a series of essays meant for a friend. It was originally to be entitled, "Life at Twenty-five" but Stevenson soon found that he was unable to sustain that view as the years passed and the wisdom and experience of age changed his sensibilities.

I have only completed the first essay and have enjoyed the transition in the second, concerning men aging but never quite growing up. Each man has a seed of his boyhood, which in old age the male regresses to the mental playground of his youth. It contains a warning that marriage is not the answer to a wayward youth - you will be taking on responsibility for another's well-being. If you cannot manage your own life, how do you expect to suddenly do a capitol job when handling two? No longer will you have the liberty of dismissing your failures and faults of character - you will have a faithful witness who suffers alongside you and holds you accountable for your actions.

I will have to postpone reading this in pleasure as my schoolwork has deadlines that must be acknowleged and conquered, but I look forward to resuming and reporting further.

Oh! Updates are late.
Is it like riding a bike?
A wobbly return...

Mockingjay, Suzanne Collins

I just finished this final book in the Hunger Games Trilogy. I was told by a wise man that I shouldn't review books I didn't like, so I have been abiding by that advice. Some works that I enjoyed had drawbacks in language and content, but Collins' work was exemplary in both aspects.

The first book had Katniss Everdeen, the "girl who was on fire," a desperate young adult who sacrificed herself in substitution for her sister's name being drawn to participate in the Hunger Games. The Games are a fight to the death in an arena rigged by Capitol Gamemakers' traps, seeded by weapons. It is a brutal and cruel reminder to the districts that they failed years ago to overthrow the Capitol. To the citizens of the Capitol, however, it is popular entertainment to send gifts of food, medicine, and weapons through silver parachutes to favored tributes.
Katniss sees the decadence and excess of the technologically luxurious Capitol and is sickened, knowing that the resources used for the Games could improve the lives of the citizens. The Games traditionally demand one victor out of the 24 tributes from the districts, but Katniss's fellow tribute Peeta declares his love for Katniss, capturing the sympathy of the nation. Katniss' focus back home had been providing for her mother and sister by illegally hunting in the woods - she had not considered her effect of attracting suitors.
The Capitol promises that this, the seventy-fourth games, will be different - that Katniss and Peeta can be co-victors if they both survive. When the conditions are met and the Capitol reneges on its promise, Katniss pulls a stunt that saves them both, but at a cost she cannot fathom.

The second book, Catching Fire, expands upon the fallout from the seventy-fourth Games - Katniss's act of defiance earns her the audience of the Capitol's President Snow in her own home. When she saved herself and Peeta, she was desperate and saw it as just survival. What it had become in the eyes of the districts was a symbol, a rallying point of rebellion. The mockingjay pin that Katniss wore during the games has changed into the watchword of insurrection and unrest. Snow warns Katniss that her family and friend's lives are on the line - The girl who was on fire is contagious, her continued existence is emboldening the masses that the Capitol is not invincible after all. Katniss made the Capitol move an inch, the districts want to push it further. President Snow announces that the Seventy-Fifth Games, a quarter quell (every 25 years, there is a twist in the set-up of the games), will be drawn from the pool of previous victors. Katniss will have to undergo the horror of another Games. She and Peeta are troubled already with the memories and nightmares from the previous Games, now she will be facing a field of the best and worst the Games has to offer.

I think I will pause here, because the above sounds good enough to me. I left out some key parts and persons, for I think the reader will enjoy meeting them on their own time. The second book may not have the novelty of the first and the anticipation of the unknown challenges. By Catching Fire, the reader has reached a transition point between the Capitol's dominance and the districts' flames of rebellion. This is the crux of the series, and perhaps the finest in my opinion for the dexterity of Collins treatment of Katniss's unenviable position - "Yes, the Capitol is despicable and wrong to take joy in the Hunger Games, but bringing the violence out of the arena and into a state of war will take more lives. Besides, her family and friends' lives are on the line whether she succeeds or fails. Katniss is walking a thin line, and struggles with understanding the icon she became, with the importance interpreted from her actions in the camera's eye."

Mockingjay, brings us to the blossoming of Katniss's character and role. Surviving two Games has made her into a walking shell and wreck of humanity. The rebellion wants her to become their Mockingjay, the living symbol of defiance and rebellion. This third book is dissimilar with what the previous two set up. It is carried out in an unfamiliar environment, we as readers can sympathize with Katniss's bewilderment and confusion as to where she is going and why. She watches as those who she knew so well adjust to the hardships of military discipline and roles.

"War makes good men better and bad men worse." - Joseph Chamberlain, civil war officer of the Union.

We see this happening as Katniss begins to puzzle out who she is underneath the attitude and shields she places around herself. She is broken and the Capitol's propaganda is malicious - torturing those in the Capitol whom she befriended or were attached to her in the Games. She bears the guilt of all who sacrificed their lives so that she could live. So many district citizens have invested their hopes and futures into her survival, what she means to them as a symbol. But she is not perfect, she cannot be an ideal, and Katniss struggles with the burden of the living almost as much.

To be truthful, I wasn't sure of Collins's intent in writing the third installment of the series. It just felt so different - the culmination of what went on before. But as I arrived at the end, I was treated to an ending that was fittingly eloquent, a nod to the past and what is to come. In a string of books whose authors cannot bring themselves to cut the strings and knot the conclusion, this was a refreshing departure.

Highly recommend
The Hunger Games which I send
Most refreshing end

Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins

I confess I read this book because Entertainment Weekly's cover of Katniss looked worth the effort of seeing in a movie. I like to read the book before the film, the characters are not as visually ingrained in my mind until after the movie, then they are hopelessly entangled in my mind.

The novel takes place in a dystopian American continent. Renamed Panem, it is comprised of the Capital and Thirteen districts. There was a revolt against the capital years ago, and the thirteenth district was wiped off the map. The Capital created the Hunger Games - an annual televised fight to the death. Like the ancient myth of Athens and the Minotaur, two tributes are randomly selected from a lottery held in each district. One boy and one girl, winner's district receives aid from the capital until the next games.

The story surrounds the seventy-fourth Hunger Games, and a girl from District 12, Katniss Everdeen. Her father died in a mining explosion, leaving her to be the sole breadwinner for her healer mother and adorable sister Primrose. She hunts illegally in the forest with a bow, bringing fresh meat to barter in the black market. Gale Hawthorne helps her in the forest, two years older and a master of snares, their friendship in the forest is one of the few things in her life that makes Katniss happy.

The Hunger Games eligibility window starts at twelve and ends at eighteen. Each year, a new slip with your name is added to the pot. However, for the poorer families, a child may enter their name multiple times to receive bread rations for the year's time. It would supplement a family's diet at the risk of being chosen for the Hunger Games.

In the town square, Primrose Everdeen's name was drawn, her first year of eligibility. This was an astronomically unlikely chance, and Katniss volunteers in her unlucky sister's stead. Her companion to the games is Peeta Mellark, the baker's son. Katniss has avoided him for years, knowing that a gesture of kindness on his part saved her family from starvation after her father's death. She hates owing people, and suspects Peeta's motivations for doing such an act.

On the train ride to the capital, they spend time with Haymitch Abernathy, the drunken has-been of the village. Far back in his day, he won the Hunger Games, and now it is his job to mentor the tributes each year. Katniss hates him for stumbling around, being a general embarrassment who could hardly keep himself together, let alone train anyone else.

The Capital is luxurious to the extreme, a slap in the face to Katniss's sensibilities. Meals come at the push of a button, showers have over a hundred different options for cleaning, and the roof of the complex has an electrical field to dissuade suicidal tributes. Katniss gorges herself on the rich and abundant food, knowing that a little saved fat in the games is a precaution for survival. Each year, the setting is different, but some constants remain.

At the beginning, all the combatants start on metal disks in a circle, a giant cornucopia erected in the center. Scattered on the ground are supplies and weapons for the duration of the games. For sixty seconds, tributes must remain on their platforms, after which the land mines surrounding each disk are disabled, signalling the start. After the bloodbath of skilled "career tributes" over greedy novices, the key is survival.

Career tributes originate in well off districts - trained at an early age, they volunteer to participate. Katniss's only edge is that she is accustomed to fighting for her survival. Her skill with a bow earns her a 11 out of 12 in her interview with the Gamemasters - controllers of the environment of the arena. They set out traps and devices to force the players to fight, signal the death of combatants with a cannon fire, and collect the cadavers with hovercrafts.

Sponsors may intercede in the games, donating money to send gifts to tributes upon whom they placed bets. The games are an ugly affair, reminding the districts of their subservience to the Capital. Only those born into the leisurely lives of the city can afford to watch the games in its entirety.

Katniss is hostile to the decadence of this society, she only wishes to win so that she might keep her promise to her sister to return home the victor. She cannot figure Peeta out - during his televised interview, he claims to have a crush on her since childhood. But he asks Haymitch to train them separately. What does he have to hide? Katniss keeps her distance once the games begin, knowing that if she gets close to Peeta, it will be that much harder for her to finish him in her quest to win.

There can only be one victor in this cruel event, and the last one standing must have strength of steel and the hardness of the heartless.

Didn't mention Rue,
Though she is my favorite.
Small whirling dervish.

Poison Eaters, Holly Black

Who is Holly Black? She is one half of the popular Spiderwick Chronicles team. Tony DiTerlizzi, the other part, is more whimsical and kid-friendly. Holly Black brought her expertise to the team, for she is simply brilliant when it comes to faery lore and fantasy. She is wilder and uninhibited in her imagination, scope, and vision. She edited a work with Justine Larbalestier entitled Zombies Vs. Unicorns - A compilation of stories, written by young adult authors in a mock debate. As an aside, these stories weren't nearly as interesting as I hoped they might be...

The Poison Eaters is a collection of short stories by Holly Black, in which gems and trinkets may be found. My favorite story so far is The Dog King. It is a werewolf story, set in a country where the city dwellers venerate the deadly packs, while the villages cower in fear of the coordinated rampaging stampedes. The capital city is ruled by a king who keeps a wolf named Elinad as a pet. This animal is his eyes and ears in the castle, shape-shifting to report to his king in human form. In the village below, people begin dying in horrific fashion, the King promises the crown to he who halts the rampage. But is he willing to have the truth surface with the consequences?

A bibliophile's delight is the tale, Paper cuts Scissors. Justin, a young library student, takes on a job by the mysterious Mr. Sandlin. Justin's girlfriend, Linda, had a gift for inserting objects into books, weaving the folded item into the narrative. Linda heard of a man named Sandlin, who could pull things out of books as well. Justin refused, and Linda folded herself into a Russian tale, forcing Justin's hand. Justin meets a girl at school, Sarah, who claims to know about Sandlin. By the end of the story, Justin learns about the intersection between Rock-Paper-Scissors, relationships, and reading.

The Boy who cried Wolf is a snapshot that could have been a bigger storyline. It is satisfying in itself, but it is ripe for development.

For the most part, short stories are fragments of greater concepts in the writer's mind. They are quick sketches that could be fleshed out and drawn forth to produce beautifully dark and bewitching tales. Not all thoughts and ideas are comfortable to learn, know, or say aloud. The strength and weakness of a short story is that it never overstays its welcome, no matter whether the guest is charming or detestable.

I nearly forgot.
This haiku is a thing I do.
Good night to all you

Unincorporated Man, by Dani & Eytan Kollin

I picked this book up from the library because of the title and thickness. I thought it would be an interesting read. I didn't expect it to be deep and compelling, but as I continued reading, the story had me hooked.

300 years in the future, death and taxes have been modified into an afterthought. Revival techniques and age therapy have provided means to prolong man's lifetime to well over 170 years, provided that the brain is intact. Incorporation is the way of life in this modern world. From birth, the government has a 5% stake in the individual's future earnings, the parents a 20% stake. By law, the individual itself has to keep a 25% minimum stake in themselves. The other 50% is IPO'ed to investors who own you as a potential cash cow. It is explained by one citizen as incentive born of self-interest - 'Why would you lash out at a sibling if you have a stake in gaining from their future? You wouldn't want to risk physical or emotional trauma to affect your chance to make money...'

Into this well oiled system, insert a single, free man. Justin Cord, a 21st century billionaire, the first man to create an entirely workerless factory in Tennessee, was dying of cancer. He used his fortune to design and build a cryogenic suspension unit for the purposes of being revived in a world where such an illness could be cured. Nearly 300 years later, he is discovered by a GCI prospector named Omad, just an ordinary joe looking to make a buck on the side who stumbles upon Justin's cavernous tomb.

GCI, the largest corporation on the planet, takes over its employee's find. Neela Harper, a revivalist stationed in Boulder, Colorado, sees this find as her one big chance to break free from the small town stage. No one survived the GC (Great Collapse) of the 21st century, which decimated the world's population. If it wasn't for the wisdom and guidance of Tim Damsah, a young Alaskan politician, the world might have fallen victim to the effects of the horrifying VR Plague.

Neela fights Hektor Sambianco, the GCI representative for the constitutional right of immediate revival. Hektor refuses, sneering that GCI will revive the Man when it has a guarantee of profit from the matter. After all, a pre-GC man had the potential to be quite valuable as a curiosity. The Chairman, reclusive head of GCI and the most powerful man in the world, had a responsibility to the stockholders of his company to milk this find for what all it was worth.

Hektor demands the outrageous sum of 10 million for an immediate revival. Neela balks - the highest revival ever contracted before was in the 400,000 range, this was ridiculous. Yet, by the end of the day, an anonymous donor covers the tab: Justin Cord becomes the Uniincorporated Man, the only person in the solar system (which has since been colonized through terraforming), to not be owned by anyone else.

While the Incorporated World's members dream of someday achieving the magical number of a 51% majority stake in themselves, this man receives it on a silver platter.

Neela is assigned to integrating Justin Cord into the wonders of the modern world. But it soon becomes clear that the modern world also needs time to adjust to the existence of Justin Cord. The man is ingenious, observant, and eloquent - and is absolutely disgusted by the concept of "incorporation." The idea of humans owning each other is repulsive to a man who spent his life earning his freedom from rags to riches. The more Hektor Sambianco and GCI try to force Cord into becoming part of their stock trading world, the harder and more determined Cord fights against the perceived bonds.

Justin quickly becomes a celebrity not only because of his unique status of freedom, but also for being a living legend - the story of his life and mysterious disappearance intrigued the world for 300 years. To have the actual article preserved and intelligent makes him the most followed man on the planet. But when a radical political party names Cord their poster boy and begins a reign of terror in his spirit, Cord finds how quickly public opinion can change. He did not wish any of this to happen, but refuses to acquiesce to the demands that he become part of the system.

How hard would you fight to retain your concept of independence? Is it worth the loss of your friends, fortune, and reputation? Is it right for one man's ideals to overrule the the greater society's stability and interest?

"This world we are living in, sir, is a dictatorship - a dictatorship of the content. It is a creeping, smothering form of dictatorship that works so well and makes everyone so happy... on the surface." - pg.448


I really enjoyed this book, it was rather thought provoking and insightful in the realm of humanity and the concept of self interest. The drawbacks to the book is the chapter concerning the universal week of debauchery that is named Mardi Gras. That and the use of the f-bomb 300 years past the present are two concepts that would have been better buried in the Great Collapse.

I am not much for sci-fi, but this is humanity accelerated and given new toys rather than the cliche idea of hypothetical contact with extraterrestrial races.

Super 8, a J.J. Abrams film

I thought this would be like Cloverfield - big build up to a mysterious disaster and series of events. Cloverfield was a tribute to horror films and revitalized the hand-held camera angle of filming things. While I loved Abrams's reboot of the Star Trek series and its intricacies, I think he could have done better with this project. It felt like a stunt to give summer viewers a trip. Pan's Labyrinth was a brilliant stroke because it was a war movie and a fantasy, could be viewed both ways. I am still deciding whether I will like this movie and its genre split of drama and sci-fi.

The film centers around the viewpoint of Joe Lamb, the town deputy's son, and his friend, Charles's desire to enter a film contest with a zombie themed entry. The time is 1979 and the camera of choice is a super 8, the training wheels that honed many of today's filmmakers. One night, while filming at a train station, a white pick-up truck drives deliberately on the tracks and derails the train. Cary, another of Charles' gang of moviemakers and the resident pyromaniac, is overjoyed by all the chaos and explosions. The rest of the group attempts to collect themselves after witnessing first hand such a disaster. They discover the truck in a bad state and find that the driver is the honors biology teacher at their middle school. He tells them to run, backing up his words with a handgun before he collapses from weakness onto the steering wheel. Within minutes, Air force personnel are combing the tracks, collecting and boxing up crates of curious white plastic cubes that were strewn from the wreckage.

Joe's dad grows suspicious as the Air force men remain tight lipped about their mission. People start disappearing, household pets are discovered in neighboring counties, power supplies fade in and out. The nexus to all the mystery of the movie, is that whatever escaped that train is now dissecting the town and its people, causing ordinary citizens to live in wordless terror, while evading the military's attempts to corral its rampage.

Throughout all this chaos, Charles rallies his ragtag group and channels the town's hysteria into the backdrop and scenery of his movie. Joe begins to fall for Alice, the newly recruited actress for the movie. Alice and Joe's fathers had a falling out and the two parties had never toed the line of silence. Charles's movie provided an opportunity to break the familiar boundaries and know one another. But after Alice herself disappears, it is up to Joe's dad to decipher why the Air Force isn't cooperating while Joe investigates why their teacher was on the tracks, hoping it will help to rescue his new-found friend.

The movie within the movie plays while the credits roll. It is almost a homage to Abrams' own roots as a filmmaker, watching the youth fumble around with angles and "special effects." With the visionary view of a child, the experience time brings, and an insane budget, courtesy of Spielberg, things like Super 8 can be made.

Abrams has made hits
Three hundred is baseball's good
Only fate that you miss...

Varanger: Judging a book by its cover 1.1

When I began to volunteer at the library at which I now work, this cover was in the "New Books" section. The earth-toned colors and curiously titled tome arrested my attention. It has been two and a half years since that day, and I have just now finished it.

The book concerns the two mercenary cousins, Raef and Conn, and the trouble that they find when contracted to the whims of other men. The narrative follows three masters, each more distant than the last.

Raef was the son of a slave woman, and is gifted with unexplained senses - He 'feels' his surroundings and has an intuition for impending danger. He uses his skills sometimes to predict the game of dice to his advantage, and at other times merely to keep track of Conn's whereabouts.

Conn needs the oversight - He is a hot-blooded warrior, conflict roils in his wake. He is single minded and fancies power and women, preferably both.

The story unfolds in Roman Empire Europe, in a small town to which the Varanger lord, Thorfinn retires with his crew. He keeps Conn and Raef as his security in the town. Thorfinn is a reasonable man, he teaches Conn how to play chess, and how that mindset transfers to life. The town leader, Dobrynya, is a canny and crafty old man, uncle to the ruler of the Rus', Volodymyr. The Sclava and Varanger are two different tribes, the Rus' is the movement to unite the seafaying Varangers with the land master Sclava to create a nation. Dobrynya has a town enforcer, Pavo, who keeps the peace with a greased palm and a sadistic whip.

Conn and Pavo are soon made rivals, neither one wanting to relent that the other is the better fighter. Pavo cheats in hand-to-hand, having the aforementioned whip, as well as a kind of brass knuckles hidden in the back of his belt and the infamous knife in his boot. Conn and Raef winter in the town, but as conflicts and scuffles continue between Conn and Pavo, Dobrynya proposes to hire the cousins for a raiding party to the south.

Raef and Conn travel by boat while the Sclava keep pace by land. Even the pace becomes a competition between the two tribes - Who will reach the designated campsite first? Conn and Raef's crew is composed of wanderers, vikings, and icelanders, these thirteen qualify as Varangers to the scoffing Sclava war band. But as the journey continues, these men become a tight-knit group of blood brothers, united under the banner of Conn's determination and Raef's navigation.

They finally reach Kiev, the hometown of the Dobrynya's nephew, Volodymyr, head of the Sclava and Varanger by the bloodlines of the leaders' union. Volodymyr is confident and idealistic in his dream of one nation. He seeks out other gods to fulfill this vision into a reality, making his personal Faithful Guard uneasy - they love their master, but they are servants of Thor and the Norse deities, other religions are strange and untrustworthy.

The Dobrynya plays his hand - as Conn and Raef are under his command, he joins his nephew in a campaign to take the Greek trading stronghold of Chersonese. During the planning, Raef and a Muslim dignitary discuss the roles of God and man. Raef is a simple humanist, believing that man can and should reach his full potential without the medium of a deity. He frustrates the Arab, who sees Allah as the only way, graceful and merciful in allowing infidels to convert to him by their own free will. Raef challenges the Arab that if the Muslims believe in not enslaving other Muslims, and that Baghdad is built on the backs of slaves, then his stated wish that all become Muslim is incompatible with the ugly reality of the world.

The Arab leaves to return to Baghdad, his baggage full of notes taken upon the Sclava and their ways, in order to understand them and convert more effectively when Allah's will descends upon the North. However, he took with him the knowledge that Volodymyr plans to lay siege to Chersonese, a stop upon his journey home. Raef and Conn see danger in this, Dobrynya has faith that the dignitary was a friend.

The climax of the book is the campaign against Chersonese and the fallout from the decisions that are made by those who place power upon the wills of others. How dear a word is kept by those who pledge loyalty, and how little value is given to the owner of the promise. Life does not promise ribbons and bows as the last words are spoken, and neither does this book follow the unspoken dictates of literature.

Will this continue
As a sustainable thread
How to tie it up?

X-men First Class - Another Universe away.

I must confess to start. I am a devoted Marvel fan, especially since Brian Michael Bendis and Ed Hickman started their careers at the superhero icon. It seems trivial to review issues and storylines in a blog, unless specifically designed for that purpose. I will endeavor not to cross that line, as it takes a retcon to be "in" on what the significance of the current events are.

Movies, however, I can and will review. First class starts with Erik Lenshurr, the future villain Magneto, as a child in a Nazi concentration camp. He unlocks his mastery of metal through the rage in watching his mother die before his eyes. Meanwhile, in New York, a young Charles Xavier is awoken in the night by the sounds of a break-in. When reaching the kitchen, he meets Raven Darkholme, a mutant with the ability to shape-shift. Charles invites her to stay as a friend, she need not steal her food. Years pass, Erik vows revenge on those who tortured and shamed him, Charles attends college and publishes a thesis statement on Mutation and its Effects upon Human Race's history. Xavier is confident and arrogant in his ability to read the minds of others. Raven likes him, but he views her in the abstract box of a companion - one who shares his odd genetic line, although she looks like a freak in her original form of blue skin and yellow eyes.

Sebastian Shaw, head of the gentleman's group The Hellfire Club, is also a mutant, but he has bigger plans than just fitting into society. He assembles a core of Emma Frost (a telepath with diamond skin), Azareal (a teleporter), and Riptide (Air manipulator). They manipulate the political conflict between Russia and America, wanting to bring about a nuclear war that would kill humans and strengthen mutant strains. Xavier and Lenshurr meet while attempting to stop Shaw, and agree to form a counter group to better achieve that end goal. They find Alex Summers (Havok, an energy wielder), Hank McCoy (Beast, brilliant and has hands for feet), Armando Munoz (Darwin, ability to adapt his physiology to survive), Angel Salvatore (Angel, she has proportional dragonfly wings [Digression - in the written Marvel Universe, her name is Tempest and she is nowhere near this timeline.]).

The strain in the movie grows between optimistic Xavier and embittered Magneto. One wants to preserve both humans and mutants, the other wants it to be all or nothing. Shaw is a great opponent for the films, as he absorbs all physical damage as energy and can channel it back to the sender. (The harder you fight him, the better he becomes). The setting of the movie around the Cold War is an interesting stroke, and the effects are impressive. I must say that my favorite part of the movie was Hugh Jackman's cameo appearance. As a Caveat to sensible viewers, Hellfire Club and the meeting of Angel both feature risque apparel in an otherwise periodly modest environment. Overall, a good standalone movie, yards above X-Men Origins: Wolverine, but Xavier's character came across as lucky and arrogant. He doesn't have to train throughout the movie, and yet his finale comes through in spades. I liked the acting of Erik, Raven, and Hank - they were relatable and had appropriate levels of sympathy for the decisions they make during the course of the film.

Monsters or heroes?
Are Villains born or just formed?
Be the better man...

Mysterious Stranger - Exercise in Innocence and Instinct

Mysterious Stranger, By Mark Twain.

It happened one night that I was made witness to a profoundly distressing and unsettling short film of this title. The hour was late and gathered in a friend’s house, we left off our pastime of friendly local area network competition to engage in another favorite amusement – video sharing. The host of the party pulled up the video linked below and the author of its origin intrigued me. I rather like Mark Twain, for he is an American icon as Winston Churchill is in English lore, both are famed for his cleverness, wit, and a timely word.

When I returned homeward the following day, I retrieved the video on Youtube and reviewed it, wondering if it was as startling the second time. You judge for yourselves, but use discretion – the masked spirit’s voice alone sends chills down my spine.

This is a long introduction to the actual book, which caught my eye at my local library, wondering, “How far is this off the mark?” Truth is, that most of the dialogue from the Claymation is faithful to the book, but the delivery is more subtly disturbing. The literary framework is 1590 in a small village, with two vicars. The first clergy member is Adolf, a man who met the devil and threw his glass of wine at the fiend, and Peter, a kindly old priest who is the only one not to fear the power of the local astrologer. This stargazer is a sly and devious sort, and holds the village in awe of his abilities to predict war and famine. (Twain makes it a point to say that this is not very impressive, for one or the other is always going on in the world.) When the three boys walk in the woods, they meet the mysterious stranger. The stranger tells them offhandedly that it is an angel, named Satan. Lucifer is his uncle. The stranger claims, and he is distractedly amused by humanity, the same way humans are amused by cat videos online – cute, but utterly foolish and not ultimately worth your full attention.

The stranger, who asks to be called Phillip Traum in other company, takes a fancy to the trio and gives them whatever they wish, all while decrying humanity and its “Moral Sense” which allows us to knowingly commit vile actions and take pleasure in their execution. The boys feel ashamed and compelled to defend their race, to the thought reading spirit’s patient amusement and derision. Satan compares himself and humanity like a red spider and an elephant. The spider’s life is a day, the elephant’s is a century. Does the elephant notice the spider’s wants, needs, aspirations, and wishes? If it deigned to take an active interest in the spider’s life, it might misstep and squash the creature, but if the elephant put its mind to the task, it could do the spider a small good turn in a disinterested and humoring attitude and the spider could be that much better off. Satan says it is rather like that multiplied to an exponential amount and intellectual distance.

Throughout the book, the trio desire Traum’s company, for in his presence, life becomes that much more interesting and exciting. This is similar to a darkened Perelandra by C.S. Lewis from the lady’s perspective and minus Ransom’s influence. It is innocence vs. enticement and temptation. Temptation need not be blatantly obvious as evil, it is the little steps along the way that lead from a faulty foundation of logic to a horrifying conclusion. Consequences come quietly and solemnly, rationalizations are softly and sweetly deployed, and the end is profoundly disorienting and philosophically unsettling.

“Life itself is only a vision, a dream… Nothing exists; all is a dream. God – man – the world – the sun, the moon, the wilderness of stars – a dream, all a dream; they have no existence. Nothing exists save empty space – and you! And you are not you – you have no body, no blood, no bones, you are but a thought. I myself have no existence; I am but a dream – Your dream, creature of you imagination. In a moment you will have realized this, then you will banish me from your visions and I shall dissolve into nothingness out of which you made me…” - Satan to the protagonist.

As a figure in a fictional world, it is true that Phillip, Peter, the astrologist, the three boys, are all figments of imagination and Satan’s presence doubly so. But taken to our dimension of reality, such thoughts are problematic. There is a Liar’s paradox of sorts in this. Satan is the father of lies, but quoted scripture when it suited his needs. Whatever he touches, even in this book by Twain, crumbles and is perverted. This angel is no saint, this creature is not human, this being’s morals are warped and twisted to feel perfectly logical and kind. If the only kindness to life is madness and death I would defy even those options and make a new path.

As with Puddleglum in C.S. Lewis’s the Silver Chair "Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things -- trees and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones . . . That's why I'm going to stand by the play world. I'm on Aslan's side even if there is no Aslan to lead it. I'm going to live like a Narnian even if there is no Narnia." Our faith is not blind, we see the signs of a greater hand involved in the creation of the world, a greater meaning behind the miracle of life, motion, and reason, a greater hope and purpose for which we may live and die for with sense of accomplishment and pride. I will not believe a fiction, though I will search its’ depths to find hope in the human heart and mind. As the eyes are the windows to the soul, so is a book a gateway to an author’s mindscape. We may discover things that others brush over in the tour, or even uncover nuggets of wisdom and cautionary examples of which the writer never considered that he or she knew. But we are ever to learn, even when the surface is murky, we must ever learn discernment and cut to the truth of the matter.

This caused me to think,

“What if there was no safety?”

Surprised by joy = Net

There is hope and life

Fictions and lies hold fragments

Twisted beyond truth.

Spilled Musings - The unfinished memoirs of a Sojourner, Part IV.

Radio Silence, for my mission in life needs a mask, a cover, a feeling of obscurity. As with a solider gathering information in on a reconnaissance assignment, I am personally fascinated by the doings of others. I know that it is stereotypical to say that my name is not important, but it truly is not – it is merely a label bestowed upon me by my mortal guardians, a tag by which to distinguish the inhabitants of this diverse planet. It is not always as successful as some would wish as well, there are so many Anthony Johnson’s and Peter Green’s in this world to prove this uniqueness to be but a fable.

Which brings me to my second observation – Why is it that in the labels assigned to new arrivals there are so many –sons and color surnamed titles? The race of humanity is oddly consistent in this aspect. We, the rulers of this realm, have an internal conflict between reason and emotion; occasionally experiences and connotation form the deciding undercurrents to snap judgments made every moment. People on a global scale are equally self-sufficient, motivated, and dependent.

I was at one point challenged as to my racial identity as part of a learning exercise performed during an academic event. As the nationalities were voiced “Caucasian, Asian, African, Hispanic, Italian, etc.” I stood firm, raising a few eyebrows among fellow participants. When queried as to my identity, I replied simply that I am a human, they laughed uncomfortably and changed the subject. My answer was too simple and considered a little arrogant. So it might have been, and I may have been trying to press a point – Humans are so quick to diagnose, categorize and label their surroundings as a coping mechanism.

When we are spawned into this world in the form of infants, we are pure need, and are unashamed of our appetites and weaknesses. During the periods in our young waking lives when all needs are met, we learn to take in our surroundings and react accordingly. The novelty and wonder of this environment expands our open minds, overwhelming our senses and thought. Through years of training and conditioning, we learn to focus – to block out the minor details in favor of the general idea. To dwell on analyzing every facet would distract us from making a timely decision, and if there is anything upon this earth that humans serve uniformly, it is time.

From the moment we comprehend a moment, philosophic, scientific, and religious conundrums are made manifest and real. We are mortal, physical beings. How did we get here? What role do I have to play in this cosmic scheme? What do I need to learn from experience rather than accepting by faith?

Many more questions abound, but it is the last question that intrigues me for now. From a scientific mindset, we are to be skeptical of any ultimate truth or law of the Universe. There are measurements to make, experiments to conduct, and averages to calculate. Once the work has panned out to a statistically significant result, the event’s conclusions will serve as data for future testing. There is no end, as there can be no certainty of a beginning. We have to arise from an initial state, but that would be to assume that there existed intelligence before us. The farther back the idea of existence pre-me travels, the less of a feeling of long-lasting notability.

From a philosophic standpoint, the questions are encouraged and built upon an inquisitive desire to learn. For at its core, philosophy is an exciting field – the quest to know how we know what we know. And the general synopsis of our learning is: The more we learn, the more we learn that we need to learn more. Theories are tossed as leaves in a storm, but one in which the individual thoughts collide and form new shapes from the old for a moment in time. For no two humans have the same set of experiences, or even impressions of the same event. The emotional side of the human state is emphasized by sensitive souls, while the colder and logical minds state that humanity is primarily reasonable and rational. A third, fringe group calls the polar ends both faulty and declares mankind to be a lucky chance of fate, we are no more than the current top of the ecological food chain – we are but developed beasts through the concept of civilization. Millions more derivations and alterations are to be found – seeded in the matchless and unique minds of the human race throughout space and time.

Occasionally, a few humans happen to cross paths and find that their destination and mindset are compatible and become travelling companions. This is the basis for religion, or shared thought. Men have a need for a purpose in life; most express that desire through the form of worship. The only real possession that humanity owns is ourselves and our time slot of existence. Worship is simply time used to pursue a thought, idea, vision, or concept. Farmers desire to work the land and reap its bounty, sailors long to tame the sea, warriors long to gain through their physical strength and power. Whatever it is that we humans do, it defines us as a person and shapes our future decision making progress.

I nearly forgot this part!

It is now a tradition.

Need Inspiration...

Somethings in a Sequence

I have not been idle during my absence, just distracted.

Girl at sea, by Maureen Johnson.

This is a young adult book about broken people and how their jagged edges tear new wounds in those they love. (A summary for many books in this age group.) Clio is the daughter of an artist and a dreamer, who parted ways after the fallout of fame and fortune. It all started with a board game she created on a rainy vacation. Clio and her father were on the same brainwaves these days and the game took shape, culminating in a mainstream release that had a lot of success. Then her father signed an agent, who took off with all the rights and money. Clio's family fell apart and she lived with her mother in Philadelphia. Out of the blue, Clio's father announces that he is going to be in Italy for the summer and would like to have Clio join him. He bought a yacht and is spending the sunny days out on the water.

Clio is reluctant to leave - she had established a niche in Philly, and privately holds her father and his enthusiastic "Jump first, think later" attitude for losing their family's stability along with the savings. What her father neglected to mention was that aside for him and his business partner and family friend, Martin, he was bringing his new girlfriend. Julia is a research scientist and single mother to Elsa, a gorgeous Swede-English young lady, who sweetly and perkily warms up to Clio as a friend. Also, there is Aidan, Julia's assistant, who is privy to the real reason behind why Clio's dad is taking this trip. Clio catches on that there is something odd in the fact that this trip required so much computer gadgetry and yet no wi-fi available for her to communicate with anyone off-ship. (Coincidentally, that would make a great title for a post-apocalyptic novel, "The End of the World and no Wi-Fi..."). Clio is disgruntled with her father's position to call her from her American home and put her aboard a ship in the middle of nowhere. She determines to pry out the truth and what she discovers is a long lost tale of an 19th century girl and the ruins of Pompeii...

Summer Moonshine, P.G. Wodehouse.

An actual review of a Wodehouse book? Did I not say that to do so is to risk exposing the intricacies of the plot? I will endeavor to do so to the best of my ability. It all takes place in an English Manor, in which a tight-belted Sir Buckstone Abbott is forced to rent out his country estate in order to survive. His Manor is no ordinary country house, the original was burnt down mid last century and remodeled by his late ancestor during a fit of amateur architecture. Unfortunately, the styling of the exterior is a shade of salmon pink that is straining to the eyes.

Teddy is a lodger on the estate, and he has a problem - the love of his life received a mysterious package in the mail and refuses to tell him the contents. She happens to be the secretary of Sir Abbott, a straight-laced working girl who speaks with an oxford affection in her tone. The subsequent rift between her and Teddy causes her to file a suit against the foppish American for breach of contract in their engagement. She hires the brother-in-law of Mr. Abbott, who serves such notices in court. One of Abbott's guests is familiar with this man and his tenacity to his job. This Mr. Bulpitt brags that only one man escaped his pursuit for serving notices and that was for reasons of the old man dying.
Mr. Abbott's daughter, Jane, is an enterprising young woman. Teddy's brother, Joe Vanringham, falls hard for her during a chance visit in London. Where Teddy is soft and pudgy in thought and in action, his brother is lean and sharp as a whip. Joe got the boot out of the house shortly after reaching the age of responsibility. Joe has made it big by writing a play based loosely upon his own experiences with his mother. Teddy and Joe's mother is a social butterfly with razor sharp wings, known for her manner of marrying and divorcing multiple times, reaping the titles and wealth from her unfortunate victims. Her latest target is Adrian Peake, a detestable hanger-on of humanity, with a vulnerable appearance that brings out the nurturing instinct in all women. Teddy and Joe both hate him abstractly for who he is. Even worse, young Adrian is two-timing with the lovely Jane Abbott.
The book's climax deals with the arrival of the former Mrs. Vanringham, now through marriage known as the Princess Dwornitzchek, who intends to purchase the salmon pink estate of the Abbott's possession.
Will Teddy be outmaneuvered and served by Mr. Bulpitt?
Will Adrian Peake be exposed as a fraud or weasel his way out to his advantage?
Will that ugly Salmon Pink bricked house be sold through the chaos and complications of love, fear, and miscommunication?

Did not finish this, Why?
Life flows by like a river.
Will it ever catch me?

The longer I stall
The lesser I write at all
Streak beginning fail.

We shall see in time
Hope to carry on the blog
See you when I do.

Half of a hundred.

What have I accomplished over my break?
I intended to do so much, but my resolve was weakened by desire and Fate.

I read "Meet Mr. Mulliner" by P.G. Wodehouse an was entertained by the Englishman's list of interesting family and relations. Such as the Stuttering Nephew who had an unfortunate day of trying to overcome his shyness by talking to three of the wrong strangers. And the brother who was a master chemist, and designer of "Buck-U-Uppo," a formula that would invigorate an elephant to challenge Indian tigers on hunts. Another nephew consumes this potion and is revitalized with courage and vigor after a long existence as a timid curate. This formula completely changes the trajectory of his life, granting him a backbone, a wife, and a living.
Very enjoyable, very funny, and an absolutely engaging and fast paced collection of short anecdotes. I am reading another Wodehouse right now.

The Fall, Chuck Hogan and Guillermo del Toro.
This is the second book of the Strain trilogy. I finished it at a rather adequate pace. It delves into the origin of Setrikan's hate and mission for killing the fallen angels that are the vampire race. The six Ancients are revealed and take their third faction into clearing up the infestation of the Master's reckless feeding. Palmer, the Master's human contact is dying slowly and wants to be turned into an immortal bloodsucker as a final means of survival - his personal vice in life is to prolong his existence, and science is failing him. The book of the vampire's history is up for auction, but it carries a legendary and mysterious history of "accidents" for those who possess the contents. Overall, a decent apocalypse series for those interested in supra-natural means of world decay and destruction.

She and Him, Vol. Two.
What shall I say about this perennial part of my blog's outlook? It is lovely and unique in its folksy, laid back feel. "In the Sun" is a favorite of mine with its cheerful sense of playfulness in the game of gaining attention of a love interest. "Gonna get along without you now" is a cute-cut of realizing the reality of a false friend, well written and arranged farewell tune and parting shot.
"If you can't sleep" is a soothing lullaby that comforts my mind and calms my spirit, it soars and swoops through my mind in a lovely pattern.

Finally, a parting thought in short verse. It amuses me and challenges my mind to conjure them up on the wing. I have not the observation and intuitiveness to know when it is tiring to my audience...

Woke up this morning to discover my break was gone.
Back to school and its responsibilities - What have I done?
I LoL'ed a lot over the week, spent time with friends, and slept in late.
However, Saturday had woken my heart, feeling the pull of guilt innate.
"Forsooth!" I pondered, "I have a speech. I must revise, I should outreach!"
I wrote and thought and thought and wrote, my topic trivial, but 'tis trivia that I know.
I keep in my mind facts obscure, why they stick to my memory is left unsure.
My first class dealt with concepts to compute - ASCII code, Inputs, OS's to boot.
My second class was speechified, I had to concentrate, and I feel confident and fine.
(Though my presentation was rough at points, my transitions and purpose lent me good points).
My third class concerned Mode, Median, and Mean. Twas all finite math, and baby steps into problems quite keen. For while the class was deceptively smooth, I know the applications will flip my brain quickly to move.
I left for the day, my first reentry complete. I walked to my bus stop listened to my iPod touch's tones so sweet. However, my battery died before I embarked, on my journey hope, silence accompanied my reading of Wodehouse's art.
I received a haircut, for my mane was growing long. My bangs were quite stubborn, and was wavy and wrong. Snip, Snip, Snip, that problem is gone, my maintenance is simplified as the strands fall anon.
I proceed to my job - organizing my carts, of books and CD's to be shelved and re-caught. Libraries are truly Franklin's greatest idea, this Daylight Savings Time is his worst I fear.
I enjoy the power to explore and learn more, from Bios to Fiction, it all is adored.
I saw a young lady who made eye contact and waved. I didn't recall making her acquaintance, so I nodded as my mind struggled to be saved. Was I really to know her: a face to recall? I had no clues, so I continued shelving the YA wall. My closing duties completed, I locked up and left.
Home is so welcoming, my family never of entertainment bereft. For whether it be youngest asking us to pretend to laugh, or viewing the results of the March Tournament of (Wrath?).
My family is loving, my friends likable to know.
I hope that this description fits you, my reader, to agree with "just so."

Haikus tradition
Why five-seven-five framework?
Ah! Pray for Japan...

Creating A Scene - The Improv Everywhere story

Charlie Todd was just another aspiring actor in NY City. Todd's aspirations took on a different trajectory one night when he received a friend in his apartment. "Hi Ben Folds!"
Todd decided that as a gag, he and his buddy should put their acting chops to the test by posing as Mr. Folds and a dedicated fan in a bar. Ten minutes after they enter separately, Todd's buddy approaches him at the bar and calls him "out" as the pop pianist. Amazingly, it succeeds and the two become the toast of the bar. From such humble beginnings was Improv Everywhere spawned.

Their Youtube channel has recieved millions of views for their "Food Court Musical" (People stand and add verses with no seeming connection between performers' lives), "Frozen Grand Central" (Agents are planted in the infamously busy terminal and pause in position for three and a half minutes, drawing the attention and curiosity of the daily commuters), and the awkward "No Pants Subway Ride" held annually (It is what it sounds...).

This book, "Creating a Scene" is an insider's view of the work that goes into these "victimless" pranks, and first person accounts, views, tips, and suggestions for how to pull them off on as smaller level in your community. My favorite one to read about was "the Moebius," a mission that revolved around a group of 7 "agents" performing the same series of actions for an hour of 5 minute loops. By the third iteration, people began to notice the pattern. The video quality for the prank (found on Youtube) was spotty, grainy, and sounded mostly of murmurs. Still the person carrying the boombox blaring "Shiny Happy People" was pretty funny!

Good book, though odd. These NY pranksters have greater plans for the entertainment and bemusement of Big Apple natives and tourists for years to come - It is New York! A crazy country all to itself. From "McDonald's Bathroom Attendant" handing out mints and cologne to cheap eatery visitors to "Dead Author Meet and Greet" with a fake Anton Chekhov at Barnes & Noble.

Gamed inspiration.

I have wings of hope upon which to fly.
Not all poetry must needs to make readers cry.
I am but one in a sea of these people,
yet I stand firm on my platform- determined not to be shown feeble.
I have failed in the past, made my mistakes-
crawled from the depths of real passion and faked.
I am not disillusioned, but I will not despair.
I have a Savior, as John C. Cooper declared.
My Lord gives me purpose, a song which to sing.
Whether whispered or shouted, his Name to be praised.
I am destined for more than this frail world of pain,
with pockets of beauty, of hope, of new days.
I am a child, matured through His love.
I will strive to be faithful, to raise others above.
Whether I be trampled, stripped, or defamed.
I rest on His mercy, guided by His grace.
I may falter, I may fail, but never remain defeated,
for my destination was bought through His nails.
Through His suffering, I have received clothes of white-
through his crimson blood, my soul has gained flight.


That is what comes of staying up late, posting threads to an iTouch game forum wall of desperate poetry. The bulk of what was considered poetry was "Woe is me, profound sorrow, and pain."
Poetry can be beautiful, can be lovely, can be inspirational. Mine is not particularly exemplery, but I have my moments.

Commitment, or is it?

I talk too much at times. But I need some discipline in my life, thus I will post something that comes to mind every other day for a week. This shall be fun and challenging. The pictures on my page don't change for a reason - they rest in limbo as they suit the character of my page. I really have been listening to She & Him:Vol. 2 and love its sound immensely. As for Hood? It was a birthday present a couple of years ago. I read it voraciously upon its arrival. Alas, the sequels in the trilogy were long in coming, and by then I lost the thread. The same phenomenon has occured with del Toro's The Strain Trilogy - I am reading the Fall on my breaks @ my library job. Ironically, my revival of its undead contents is succeeding. (I think, at least. I still don't necessarily recall just who Gus is!).

Also, I am rediscovering albums from my childhood. While driving my Avalon, I listen to MP3's of Phillips, Craig, and Dean's early 90's work, and the ever relevant Michael Card. My new favorite Card classic is called Why?, but perennially dear to me are God's Own Fool and Final Word. I am also attempting to read Kaleb Nation's Bran Hambric: Farfield Curse book in my free moments. I finished John Green's zombie apocalypse novella Zombicorns, which he insisted was not his best work.

Premise of Zombicorns? A strain of corn causes its consumers to fall in love with the plant. The "Z'ed up" devotees dedicate their lives to the protection and propagation of the corn. They will eat anything but the sacred corn, which the "Z'ed up" plant willy-nilly in the ruins of Chicago. The protagonist is a girl named Mia whose family was overcome by the corn's mind control. She had to "complete" her parents with an AR-15 to avoid eating the corn and subsequently becoming the plant's slave. Mia lives with her dog, Mr. President, in an underground bunker. She survives on canned tuna and bottles of wine. The plot thickens when she meets a fellow survivor who wields dual M-16's in a mission to kill as many of the Z's as possible.

The novella is not very long - 60 pages at most, but for a John Green follower, it satiates a fix for a little while. Thankfully, there is very little swearing, as there are very few characters for which to swear in the tale.

More forthcoming soon.
Good night, Good Fortune, Godspeed.
Journeys have purpose.

An Overdue Poem (two reviews)

Oh, how I love being up late!
It has been consistent for a while (if I must be straight)
It is the power of the Mountain Dew, I have slurped it as a slushie and ice-laden brew
But, 'tis my readers who should be the tone of my verse - I am an amateur writer (and my voice is not terse).
My readers are patient, as my keyboard flings couplets true.
I am not a William Shakespeare, but I have gifted this to you.
I hope you enjoy, my words and my thoughts.
Although I have been sporadic at best, I wish I were not.
The longer I stall, the less I will write.
(I never quite finished the Carol Burnett entry that night!)
I read P.G. Wodehouse's "Code of the Woosters."
My review would be insufficient and Jeeves needs no booster.
I find myself saying "Yes, Sir," as a symptom of that character's style.
Though explaining the book's humor would take a good while -
Wodehouse's laughs are intricate in scope, linking to other stories he wrote.
The situations are invariably over the top, Bertie digs his own graves, then blindly flops.
Jeeves rescues his Master, though I can't figure why -
The butler is so brilliant, "What ties him to Bertie's side?"
The stakes are so high, Bertie Wooster is always on the brink of disaster.
Jeeves always comes through with a last minute plaster.
Augustus Fink-Nottle is my favorite part, a newty nerd who is feckless and has a good heart.
Madeline is a dreamer, all up in the clouds. She spouts poetry (which creeps Wooster out).
Former Regional Justice, Mr. Bassett suspects that Wooster is a criminal
(among other defects). Aunt Agatha is sharp, with her hunting horn yell.
But is now relegated to writing a ladies paper, which sells rather well.
Uncle Tom is paranoid and craves silver of old.
Bertie adores them, if only for Anatole.
That cook is an artist, beyond all compare.
To eat at Anatole's table is a delight akin to heavenly stairs.
When exiled from Agatha's estate and the food served there,
Bertie is flummoxed, and feels like a man without air.
Enough about Wodehouse! Though I hope you enjoyed this.
My readers, so dear, to have your attention is pure bliss!
I am reading the bio to Alison Arngrim. She played Nellie, the Little House villain...
Her childhood was maimed by distracted Mom and Dad.
Her older brother abused her, in a manner quite sad.
That brother was a teen idol, a heartthrob of 15 minutes in the sun.
But also a druggie, a sadist, who brooded like a melancholy hun.
Alison got her break in the Little House on the Prairie run.
She befriended Melissa Gilbert, or "Laura." "Mary" on set was the diva-ous one.
The book is told very tongue-in-cheek, "Nellie" gave Alison a role in life to defend.
Her character taught Alison how to stand strong, her brother no longer could deal her wrong.
The show itself was a story behind the scenes - heaviest dresses when the sun came down in molten beams. When winter arrived on set, however, the costumes were not designed for the weather! To shoot ahead of time, Michael Landon would plan - seasons in advance.
(He was a hardworking man.)
The makeup and hairstylists were rulers of backstage - no fighting or frowns allowed in the territory, or glares of rage.
Alison befriended these workers and was awed - these were the best in the business, their workmanship without flaws. Some did Marilyn Monroe's makeup and Bette Davis' hair!
Alison's famous curls cost a pretty dime - the most expensive hairpiece in TV at the time.
(With the faux hair came excruciating pain, each time Alison moved, the pins dug into her natural mane).
That is all that I've read, all that I gleaned.
Hopefully, my readers, my next post has better sheen.

One last piece of verse
As it is my tradition
Hope you enjoyed this!

Carol Burnett

Carol Burnett - "Laughter & Reflections"

This biography is a series of anecdotes from the 70's variety show host. It began with her fascination with Jimmy Stewart and ends with the death of her daughter. She received her big break to travel to New York on funds provided by a generous benefactor in her California hometown. The benefactor specified that s/he remain nameless and that Carol would help other young stars blossom in the future.

Once in New York, Carol joined an actor's apartment commune for struggling females. She had to share a room with four other women. She applied for a part-time job as a hat-check person at a local tea cafe and funded her rent and clothing with the proceeds. She was persistent in the "cattle call" auditioning process - sing a few bars while the casting director is quick with "Next!" through a megaphone. Her big idea came in having a communal Dress with the other four women. This Dress would be loud in color and forgiving in body types - it would set the wearer apart in the cattle calls.

However, those cattle calls were not her ultimate destiny. An agent gave her the idea to write her own play, using her building's hopeful actresses as the cast and inviting directors and producers as their audience. Her homemade play exhibited the skills and possibilities of the young women and gained them a foothold in the industry's inner workings. She soon married her Cali boyfriend who had followed her with equal dreams- his was to be a NY producer. Carol's big break came in her role for Once Upon A Mattress, a Princess and the Pea reiteration with a twist. It gained her the attention of Lucille Ball, who befriended Carol after the show with a promise to "be there for a guest or reference if ever needed." And Lucille was as good as her word when Carol was in a pinch, taking time away from her one-woman driven "Lucy Show."
Carol wanted to do more with her career, so she hired a writer for a comedy routine. Her breakout hit was singing about her love for a droll politician during the nationwide Elvis fever. The song won her a "Flavor of the Week" media attention and gained her a following to see her show in the theatre.
Unfortunately, she got cocky - she bombed one night to a polite crowd, and fell hard. It taught her to not think too much of herself as a given hit before a show even started.
She broke into TV with "The Gerry Moore Show," in which she learned that the star need not hog the jokes or the spotlight. Mr. Moore knew his limitations and delegated one-liners and roles to others for the good of the show. Carol is still fond of her time there and wishes that the "Gerry Moore Show" could have been preserved on DVD collections - its turn-off was that the episodes were filmed in black and white. It was on this show that she saw Gerry's manner of warming up the audience with an open Q&A, an aspect of her show that made her famous later on in life.

I will update this
Tomorrow is here at twelve
To bed I will fly...

The Leap and Little Darlings

The Leap, by Jonathan Stroud

This was a book that I began on a road trip near the start of the month. I just finished it tonight. As previously stated, I throughly enjoy Stroud's Bartimaeus Series for its humor and wit. The Leap was on of Stroud's first novels and, as with Buried Fire, it reflects more of things to come rather than the voice of Stroud's recent work. The protagonist of this novel is Charlie, a young girl whose best friend, Max, died in a tragic well accident. Her story is that while Max was picking plums from an overhanging tree, his eyes became dazed and fascinated by what he saw within the mill well below and jumped in the pool. Charlie was alarmed by Max's behavior and dived in to rescue her friend. According to her account, Max was taken by two green haired maidens who drew him towards the bottom of the well. Charlie tries to call for her friend underwater, and gains the attention of a third maiden who beckons her downward. Charlie aborts her rescue attempt and starts back towards the surface. The third maiden scratches Charlie's leg during her ascent, angered by Charlie's refusal to join Max.

Charlie is hospitalized for her trauma and her outrageous story - obviously she was disturbed by the death of Max and concocted the story as a coping mechanism. Charlie's mother is a nervous hoverer who thrives on stoking petty arguments into dramatic events. Charlie's older brother, James, is unsure of how to handle his sister's situation and makes himself available for her support.

Charlie keeps her first story to herself, sure that Max is not truly dead, but lost to this world. Soon, Charlie begins a dream saga for her friend in a fairy world, each night walking and tracking her friend's progress. In her dreams, she meets Kit in the forest, a man who promises her aid in finding her friend - as a newcomer, Max will be drawn to the Great Fair, in which he will join a dance of welcome that will purge the memories of his previous life and make him a full inhabitant of that world. Kit advises Charlie to visit the places that Max enjoyed in life to aid in her finding him in the dream country. Max had been accepted through a portal to the fairy land, one of few remaining on earth. Since Charlie entered the portal but turned back, she is between the worlds.

James grows concerned for Charlie - she cries out during the night and wakes with wounds from her nocturnal mission for Max. Charlie keeps a dream journal, chronicling her progress in her pursuit, and James is curious as to its contents. One night, Charlie wakes to find her dream world merged with the waking reality, her search grows ever more urgent. The reader is questioned whether Charlie is delusional in her dreams or really part of both worlds. If so, which reality will lay claim to her life? And will her quest to join Max to end in her own death?

Little Darlings, by Sam Llewellyn

This was a paperback I discovered at the library. With the tagline "A very good book about very bad children." I was intrigued and hooked. The story did not disappoint - Three children named Daisy, Primrose, and Cassian are the children of a business tycoon who does not pay them heed. Their real mother disappeared shortly after Cassian was a toddler, and a new trophy was added to Mr. Darling's mounted animal heads shortly afterward. This mysterious trophy was entitled as a piece of the Royal Edward and "Bear's bum" was scrawled underneath. The children had run off 18 nannies in their career - and with the last one's departure, Mr. Darling found himself blacklisted by the Nanny society. With a party to attend in a half an hour deadline, Mr. Darling rings the AAA Aardvark Children Minding and Security Company and gains an appointment from the independent entity. Ten minutes later, a sleek Jaguar pulls up and Nanny Pete enters the Darling household, changing the children's lives forever.

Nanny Pete is nice to the Darling children, ordering Chinese and Pizza for the Darling's first experience of tasting such food. As Nanny Pete tucked them into bed, Cassian managed to frisk Nanny Pete's keys and duplicate the Jag's ignition requirement. The children sneak down to the Jaguar, only to have Pete stumble though the front door laden with the Darling's jewelry and trophies. AAA aardvark is a front for an organization of Old World thieves who love children. Daisy, Primrose and Cassian find themselves on the USS Kleptomaniac, surrounded by thieves of every sort. And they stubbornly refuse to leave the ship, so the lovely lady captain of the ship assigns Daisy, as she is experienced with nanny comportment, to train the thieves to be more convincing nannies. Cassian loves engines, so he works in the ship's boiler room; Primrose is an excellent cook and experiments in the ship's kitchens. All of the Darlings are delighted by their new and exciting roles, but inquire as to why the thieves operate as a nanny agency. The captain explains that her crew of robbers cannot operate in this new technological world - they are too moralized to perform simple muggings to innocent people. Logically, only rich and careless parents have a need for nannies. It is a clean bargain - the children get a night of pleasure from a willing and kindly thief, and the thieves make out with a lot of loot without feeling undue guilt.

Only one problem - the White Van Dan, the leader of the Builder's Guild of the City. As soon as the AAA aardvark Jaguar is spotted by a construction worker, he phones Dan to report on the destination. But, as builders never show up on time, they are usually late to the scene. The builders demolish the estate and take whatever is left in the wreckage, then get the contract to build a new estate. The object of both White Van Dan and AAA aardvark's searching is a fair share of a certain bear. The "Bear's bum" that the Darlings owned was a piece from the Royal Edward, the only teddy bear of its kind to make its way into the public marketplace. The designer of the Royal Edward only made the stuffed toys available to royalty, and the monarchical families guarded their prize teddy bears jealously. The Royal Edward was stolen from the ruling family of Iceland in the revolutionary overthrow. When put up for sale in a private auction attended by rich people, the final decision was contested and the bear was ripped apart in the chaos that followed. For some reason, both the AAA aardvark society and the White Van Dan are fighting over the seven pieces. The burglars know the families that possess a piece and wait for the parents to call them for child care.

All the rich and nannied families have ingenious, bored, and mischievous children who devise clever means to entertain themselves at their nannies' expense. Daisy quickly finds herself slipping into a nannyish mode with her new responsibilities of training, and her younger siblings are alarmed - will she become one of the enemy?

Overall, Little Darlings was a highly lighthearted and entertaining book for me to read and it is highly recommended. The Leap is beautifully done, but is not as easily tied up and accessible as the Bartimaeus series. The Leap's ending is ethereal and starry and while lovely, is unreachable to me, feels both deep and empty when I finished it. (The Leap is an appropriate title).

Now I must rest soon

Tomorrow I will begin

Second Semester