A dark day … Tuesday, March 8th … Mardi Gras … the day before Lent begins … Ash Wednesday … the ashes of our electronic books on the shelves of our libraries. Just a few of my grim thoughts after reading this article tweeted by Publishers Weekly this morning:
He died and made HarperCollins the “god” who decided how many times I can checkout a library ebook? Without my local library, and the interlibrary loan system, I would never have read some classic publications, long out of print. As a young adult and later as a harried young parent, my local library saved my sanity by providing endless diversions. Now, decades later, and more secure financially, I happily support my favorite authors by purchasing the expensive first edition hardcovers. I buy books as gifts for friends and family. Those same authors came to be loved by me through … my local library.
I woke up to the second day of March with significantly more sleep than I got for the first day. And, a stunning sunrise evolved over the course of my commute from home to Kansas City, Missouri:
I enjoyed my cran-raspberry white chocolate scone (baked Sunday morning) with two cups of average tea (just Lipton for easy prep) while cleaning up log files before monitoring MOSS 2007 crawl a large content source. At least I have no meetings scheduled for today.
I’m looking forward to a short walk at lunch to take advantage of Planet Sub‘s double punch day. This evening, I’ll take a long walk with Roxy during Wolfguard‘s practice.
Ah, the joys of tax preparation season and gathering all the necessary documentation for filing an itemized return, especially when some of your offspring don’t answer their cell phones and may never check or respond to their voice-mail messages.
And the things my husband says when I gather the appropriate information and return his call to relate said information:
“Would there happen to be a pen up here?” meaning the kitchen table.
“I have no idea. I was a secretary for years and have no desire to be one again. I keep mine in my purse.” my reply.
“Well, I only have two places to keep a pen on me, and neither one of them pleasant.” his reply which sparked images that may scar me for the rest of my life.
While speaking to one of my offspring’s significant others, I learned all of them (my offspring and their better halves) are involved in indoor soccer leagues. I feel so left out of the loop. I adamantly requested photos and updates at the first opportunity.
I despair of ever catching up on my group reads. I have at least two left over from February, bleeding over into March. I may drop everything so I can read the newly released (yesterday and in the mail to me right now via pre-order from Barnes & Nobel) The Wise Man’s Fear. The rest of my current reads pile can be found here.
And I’ve been asked to lead the discussion in two different groups, the first on Willis’ Doomsday Book and the second on Jemisin’s The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms. As if I needed anything else to do.
I’m speechless and breathless (and have been for several weeks) after finishing this penultimate tipping-point volume in Janny Wurts’ Wars of Light and Shadow series. Even taking a break and reading a half dozen other books hasn’t allowed me to express the emotions that wracked me or the wonders assuaging them. Not since reading Janny’s To Ride Hell’s Chasm has a book’s pacing been so unrelenting and rewarding. And to think she wrote that novel after Peril’s Gate to step back from writing this series!
I highly recommend this book, but also strongly suggest you not start with this novel. Begin at the beginning, with Curse of the Mistwraith and immerse yourself in all things Atheran.
I’ve been following a debate which crops up quite frequently in reading circles: Why can’t I resell my ebook? Both readers and authors have joined in the discussion threads at these GoodReads SciFi & Fantasy Book Club topics: e-Book Piracy and Do you care if you own a work?
All of this got me thinking about the media used over the centuries to store our content.
Cuneiform script by an expert scribe 26th century BC
Papyrus
Edison Home Phonograph, Suitcase-Model
19th century studio camera, with bellows for focusing
Out of all of the media types (and obviously many that I’ve left out like the ever popular 8-track tape), which ones can you read without the benefit of proprietary equipment or electricity?
Imagine yourself a visitor to Earth in the far future, to an Earth either abandoned (because we migrated to other planets or galaxies by discovering FTL) or lifeless (because we didn’t see the writing on the wall and continued our parasitic existence to extinction). What format has the best chance of being understood and surviving to be reviewed? In our mad dash to digitize everything, for convenience and experience, what do we leave for posterity?
I have boxes of albums from the 70s and 80s in my basement I can no longer listen to because I don’t own a turntable. I even have a few 8-tracks and Beta tapes holding content hostage. I have crates of recorded VHS tapes of movies, television shows and family gatherings, which I could possibly view, if my ancient VCR still functions and the magnetic tape hasn’t degraded or been demagnetized. I have a project back-burnered for the moment to review several thousand slides taken by my father, his brother, his father and my aunt in the hopes of converting them to a digital photograph format.
I fear there will be no Rosetta Stone to help our alien visitors nor a still functioning DVD reader or Internet to Google the translation. Our binary epitaph of bits and bytes may languish forever locked in silence and darkness while the humble book shines forth as a beacon of historical hope.
My least favorite forecast includes ‘wintry mix’ concatenated with ‘winter storm warning’ culminating in excruciating commute times. My vanpool dodged that bullet (barely) on the return trip home last night, for which I am very grateful. It allowed me to watch and listen to my daughter’s first concert of the year, as a member of the Chamber Choir at the UNT College of Music. While she is also a member of the Collegium Singers, she enjoys the challenge of increasing her repertoire in those two choirs and in her vocal performance studies individually as well. Musicology is her primary focus as an undergraduate for the next year or so. Living eight or ten hours north (by automobile) from her concerts would be torture if it weren’t for the appeasement offered by the College’s live streaming of most of the concerts.
Even though the concert only lasted thirty minutes, Terry and I enjoyed hearing Rachelle’s voice across the aether of cyberspace.
Immediately prior to the concert, while I shook off the last dregs of the work day, Terry tried a new recipe for stuffed tomatoes, which we barely got in the oven before the singing started. Twenty minutes later we sampled his latest savory culinary comeuppance. Delicious!
We opened the front door to near white out conditions. We couldn’t see across our court to the houses on the opposite side. Thick snow blanketed the steps and driveway, even though just ninety minutes prior there had been less than a half inch of icy, slushy, sleety mess. We promptly closed the door and return to our regularly scheduled DVR programming.
Due to some systems maintenance performed overnight, I overslept by thirty minutes, awaking at 5:30 a.m. Barely stopping to slap on some socks, I jammed on my boots, grabbed my coat and gloves and opened the garage door to an even thicker blanket of snow. And while it looked fluffy and airy, it proved to be heavy and wet. I began to doubt my ability to shovel just half the driveway to the street in the thirty minutes before I needed to dress for work. My white knight came to my rescue and helped vanquish the snow dragon. He even volunteered to do the steps while I finished my morning ablutions.
Terry drove me the two miles north to the Hallmark plant in Leavenworth so I could catch my ride to work. As we were passing by the IHOP in Lansing, I commented that we should have had breakfast when I was awake between two and four o’clock earlier this morning. Being such a considerate husband, he drove in a circle around the van chanting ‘na na’ at me because he planned to stop at said restaurant for breakfast on the return trip home. True to his taunting, we saw him parked front and center at the IHOP as we headed south on K-7/US-73 (aka as Main Street in Lansing).
Our commute to Kansas City’s Midtown and Plaza regions remained uneventful, if a bit slow. We observed several cars languishing in the medians and ditches, but we deigned to join them. And for once, I made it to work when some of my team members decided to turn around a go home due to the icy road conditions in their part of the metro area.
Finally, and in closing, in perusing the blogs I follow as part of my morning tea sipping ritual, Modesitt posted a rebuttal to his previous blog (from earlier this week). The earlier post, entitled ‘The Problem of Truth/Proof” generated several comments (a couple of which were mine), which then spurred Mr. Modesitt’s posting this morning, entitled “True” Knowledge is Not an Enemy of Faith. I will monitor this blog throughout the day to follow the next wave of comments, but will probably refrain from commenting myself.
I did purchase a new battery for my pedometer, hoping the predicted snow for later this week leaves only a dusting so I and my Rotts can get back in shape. We could all benefit from a brisk walk and fresh air to invigorate our outlook on life.
My outlook dimmed after reading L.E. Modesitt’s recent blog post about the problem of proving truth. I attempted to comment, probably not very eloquently, nor diplomatically, but again, my fug lens needs cleansing.
I do have my daughter’s first concert of the spring semester to look forward to tomorrow evening. One of the choirs she’s a member of (Chamber Choir) performs a short concert at 6:30 pm, streamed live over the Internet. She’s listed in the program under the Altos as Rachelle Moss, mostly because the color of her voice lands her in that section nine times out of ten. I do miss hearing her rehearsing at home.
I’ll get little rest, peace or quite tonight (so I might as well walk the dogs) since it’s practice night for my husband’s rock band. I just wish it wasn’t dark so early, because I could take my camera with me while walking and probably snap a few interesting photos. I don’t want to start yet another book (on audio via my phone) nor do I want to re-hash all the old MP3s I’ve let languish there. Guess I’ll just talk to Roxy or Apollo until they howl me silent.
I did finish my third crochet project of the year, but haven’t had a chance to photograph Terry modeling his new scarf. He did wear it yesterday when he was out and about, but said it was so warm he had to remove it. At least he won’t be cold the next time we have a frigid blizzard in February.
Today I wish my mom a very Happy Birthday. Here’s a photo of her from 1965 helping me celebrate my first birthday:
I made a mistake, however, in reading the ingredients and used two tablespoons of sugar instead of just two teaspoons. I may have to try again today. My other modifications to the recipe are listed below in bold:
1 egg white beaten with 1 tablespoon water; or substitute Quick Shine
sesame seeds
Directions
In a large bowl, stir together all of the dough ingredients till cohesive. Knead the dough for 5 to 8 minutes, until it’s smooth and supple, adding more water or flour as needed. I used my Kitchenaid mixer with a dough hook. I let the water, sugar and yeast proof for 5-10 minutes in the bowl while I measured out the other ingredients.
Cover the dough and allow it to rise for 1 hour, or until it’s doubled in bulk. I let it rise for about 90 minutes (mostly because I was preoccupied watching a movie).
Transfer the dough to a lightly greased work surface and divide it into two pieces. Shape each piece into a smooth 16″ log. Place the logs into the two wells of a lightly greased Italian bread pan, cover, and let the loaves rise until very puffy, about 1 hour. I love my Italian bread pan (see photo above).
Brush the loaves with the egg wash (or spray them with Quick Shine), then sprinkle heavily with sesame seeds. Bake in a preheated 400°F oven for about 25 minutes, until the loaves are golden brown. For the crispiest crust, turn off the oven, prop the door open, and allow the bread to cool in the oven. I brushed with an egg-white wash and sprinkled liberally with sesame seeds. I also scored each loaf three times with my razor-sharp lame. Again, I misread the directions and baked at 425 degrees for 25 minutes. I spritzed the oven every five minutes with water from a spray bottle to encourage a crispy crust. I also let the loaves cool in the oven.
We enjoyed some home-made baked Italian sandwiches courtesy Terry’s early life experiences working for his father at the Grinder Man in Wichita, Kansas. Terry’s dad conceived, owned and operated several Grinder Man sandwich shops in Wichita during the 70s and 80s. Sadly, only one remains open now.
Back in mid to late January, I reviewed the suggested reading list for the Altered States reading program promoted by the Kansas City Public Library. Many familiar titles popped out at me like Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451, Golding’s Lord of the Flies, Twain’s A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court and PKD’s The Man in the High Castle. The more modern (recently published) offerings I’d seen making the rounds of the GoodReads book clubs over the past couple of years, titles like McCarthy’s The Road, Bacigalupi’s The Windup Girl, Chabon’s The Yiddish Policeman’s Union (currently in a run-off poll at the SciFi & Fantasy Book Club for our March 2011 selection), Priest’s Boneshaker and Moore’s The Watchmen.
With limited reading time, and way too many book clubs to keep up with, I quickly eliminated the two books I’d already read: Fforde’s The Eyre Affair and Clarke’s Jonathon Strange & Mr. Norrell (see my GoodReads reviews below). I visited my local used bookstore twice and found a copy of Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451, Twain’s A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court and Golding’s Lord of the Flies. I found a public domain ebook version of London’s The Iron Heel. I placed a hold on Lewis’ It Can’t Happen Here and PKD’s The Man in the High Castle. I’ve read two of those five, and started a third one, with the other two waiting patiently on my shelf at home.
Of the remaining suggested titles, I plan to read Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale (because I should have a long time ago) and Roberts’ Pavane (because it sounds interesting and more remote from my own times).
I read The Iron Heel and Connecticut Yankee simultaneously, an experience I’m not soon to forget. I may someday re-read Twain’s novel, but I find myself wishing I’d passed over London’s weak attempt at novelizing a political tract (see my review below and click through to see the comments of other GoodReads readers and reviewers). The KC Library’s blurb on it just doesn’t do it justice (tongue firmly in cheek):
Considered the first modern dystopian novel, The Iron Heel is presented as the fictional autobiography of American revolutionary Avis Everhard and her struggles against the Oligarchy, a group of robber barons that co-opted the U.S. Army and forced the middle class into serfdom. The narrative is complemented by sometimes extensive footnotes written from the perspective of a future scholar and descendent of the revolution inspired by Everhard. The Iron Heel proved a strong influence on George Orwell as he wrote 1984.
Another comparatively similar novel, but better written, Lewis’ It Can’t Happen Here shows a chilling and plausible turn of events in 1930s America. I’m only a few chapters into it, but I can’t wait to continue reading it. You can follow along with me via my status updates here and eventually read my review once I finish (all on the same page for easy navigating).
I hope to finish all these novels prior to the end of the Altered States reading program. Either way, I’ll post an occasional travelogue here as a I journey through the Warped Zone of dystopian, apocalyptic and alternate reality/history fiction.
A wonderful thing happened on the way to The Eyre Affair; I read Jane Eyre. For that alone I will be eternally grateful.
Otherwise, it was an enjoyable but forgettable mystery set in a chaotic vortex of genres spanning paranormal, science fiction, alternate history, and time travel. At one point, it even reminded me of Butcher’s Dresden series.
The puns, literary references and alternate history gaffs intrigued me and sparked quick forays of research to confirm or deny my suspicions.
I have the sequel Lost in a Good Book waiting in the wings to see what happens Next.
This novel was rich on many levels. It was fantasy, for it had magic and fairies, but it was also historical fiction, possibly even an alternate history of Britain during and shortly after the Napoleonic Wars. It’s pacing matched that of the times, sedate and thoughtful, rich in detail and characters.
Gilbert Norrell is a miserly magician of Yorkshire who hoards any and all books of magic he can get his hands on. His first act of magic in the novel actually results in the dissolution of a society of theoretical magicians in York for the sole purpose of making himself the only magician in Britain.
Jonathan Strange is an idle gentleman who stumbles upon his talent for magic and like a moth to the flame, flies to Mr. Norrell, the only source of magical information, and becomes his pupil. Their association lasts for several months until Strange surpasses Norrell in inventiveness and intuition and Norrell sends him to assist the army in Spain.
In Spain, Strange eventually becomes indispensable to Lord Wellington, initially by providing magic roads for the British Army to use which disappear back to a morass of mud just in time for the French Army to get bogged down in. Finally, Strange’s magic turns the tide of the Battle of Waterloo and thus ends the reign of Emperor Bounaparte.
Three background characters are pivotal to the story. The first is Emma Wintertowne, who eventually becomes Lady Pole after marrying Sir Walter Pole. But only after she is resurrected by Mr. Norrell with his second and most famous act of magic. But Norrell bargains away half of Emma’s life to the fairy he summoned to ressurect her, a fairy gentleman we know only as “the gentleman with the thistle down hair.” This resurrection reults in the enchantment and imprisonment of Lady Pole in the fairy hall of Lost-hope, doomed to dance and endless balls or participate in pointless processions.
The second supporting character also enchanted by the fairy gentleman is Sir Walter’s butler, a black man named Stephen Black. The fairy took a queer liking and attachment to Stephen and forced him to attend the same balls and processions that Lady Pole suffered. Both Lady Pole and Stephen were returned to the real world each morning, but they both suffered exhaustion and distraction from living a double life, which both were prevented from relating to others of their predicament.
The third enchanted and most tragic figure was Strange’s wife, Arabella. Because Arabella struck up a friendship with the ailing Lady Pole, she came into the sphere of the gentleman with the thistle down hair. He immediately sought to enchant her permanently to the halls of Lost-hope. With Stephen’s reluctant assistance, he was able to pull Arabella into fairy, seemingly causing her to perish to her family and friends.
Strange was nearly mad with grief but was eventually persuaded to take a long holiday on the continent, where he met another English family, the Greysteels. It seemed he was on the path of a second marriage to Flora Greysteel, when he discovered a pathway to fairy, stumbling upon the hall of Lost-hope and learning of the fates of Lady Pole, Stephen and his wife, Arabella. The rest of the novel is Strange’s struggle to free the women. As we learn later, Stephen breaks his own and Arabella’s enchantments when the opportunity presents itself.
Two of the most interesting supporting characters were Mr. Childermass, Mr. Norrell’s strangely independent servant, and Vinculus, a seedy street sorcerer of London, run out of town by Mr. Norrell thanks to the efficient efforts of Mr. Childermass. Both of these characters provide some of the most colorful scenes and plots to the novel.
And in the background, every present in the sky, on the wind or sleeping in the stones, is the Raven King, a mythic being from Britain’s past, a king who reigned in Northern England, in fairy and in Hell. He is vital and instrumental in the return of English magic.
The ending was sad and somewhat tragic, but not unexpected.
If you enjoy historical fiction, especially of the early 19th century, you will enjoy this novel and savor it for many hours, especially curled up by the fire with a warm cup of tea.
Dystopian, or very dated alternate history, which drowned me in Marxism and the evils of capitalism as viewed through the lens of the very early 20th century. My perspective, a century later, shows many of these ills have been legislatively remedied. Not much of a story or plot, no real character growth; mostly essay or lecture on socialism, topped off with stomping feet, neo-terrorism and the beginnings of a non-nuclear Cold War.
Yesterday’s post on the life and times of Fanny Price segued to next month’s group read for ‘A Taste of Victorian Literature‘ – Jane Eyre. Imagine my surprise when I returned to the GoodReads web site last night to peruse my friends’ reviews and discussion postings to find a new challenge and contest starting with a chance to win a Kindle and and a copy of the novel signed by Director Cary Fukunaga of the new movie version of the classic tale. Click on the icon at the left to enter the challenge and review the official rules. Good luck!
Step 1:
RSVP to see Jane Eyre the movie playing in select theaters March 11th.
According to today’s post at Earthsky, the second full moon of the year, which usually falls in February, can be referred to as the Snow Moon, the Wind Moon, the Blackbear Moon or the Hunger Moon.
I took advantage of the unseasonably warm weather today (74 degrees), I setup the telescope and attached the Pentax K100D to it for a couple of full moon snapshots:
I also took a quick look at the brightest star in the sky … Sirius (no photos yet, still need to have the tracking gears repaired on the Meade).