Wendy Crutcher, Super Librarian, has posted her 2015 TBR Reading Challenge. I loved it so much this year that I promptly signed up for next year. I read off-theme but if you like themes, here are next year's suggestions:
January 21 - Category romance, novellas, short stories)
February 18 - Recommended book
March 18 - Series book
April 15 - Contemporary
May 20 - Copyright date is 10 years or older
June 17 - An author who has more than one book in your TBR pile
July 15 - Past RWA RITA winners or nominees)
August 19 - Impulse Read (The book you bought because of the cover or The book you bought on impulse or The book you cannot remember why you bought in the first place!)
September 16 - Historical
October 21 - Paranormal or romantic suspense
November 18 - It's All About The Hype (a book or author that got everybody talking)
December 16 - Holiday Themes
Sunday, December 21, 2014
Wendy Crutcher, Super Librarian, has posted her 2015 TBR Reading Challenge. I loved it so much this year that I promptly signed up for next year. I read off-theme but if you like themes, here are next year's suggestions:
Friday, December 19, 2014
Wednesday, December 17, 2014
As part of Wendy Crutcher's 2014 TBR Challenge, here are my comments on Stradivari's Genius: Five Violins, One Cello, and Three Centuries of Enduring Perfection by Toby Faber.
When the Faber of publishing company Faber & Faber writes a book, people sit up and take notice. It is reviewed everywhere, which means my expectations going into it were riding high. Luckily, it was not a case of "much ballyhooed, soon deflated" variety. I thoroughly enjoyed it.
What brought me to this book?
I played the violin from when I was eight to twenty one. I took lessons, I practised (reluctantly most of the times), and I performed. I have played the violin at events, at competitions, at school assemblies, and even at a state fair with the cows lowing in the barn next door. I loved the sound of the violin even as I deplored how difficult it was to learn and to play. After I became a paying guest with a professor's family in graduate school, I had to stop practicing and thus performing, and the violin fell into disuse. I briefly resurrected the playing at jamming sessions with a colleague at my first job. Since then though, the violin's bridge has fallen, the bow hair are matted, and the strings are hopelessly frayed. It will need a lot of TLC from a luthier to restore it to its former prime.
In 2005, I read a newspaper article, about a $6 million Guarnerius being on loan to the San Francisco Symphony concertmaster Alexander Barantschik. It used to belong to Jascha Heifetz, widely considered one of the greatest violinists of the 20th century. The article traced the ancient history of the violin and how it came to be on loan to Barantschik. Coincidentally, a few days after I came across this book about Stradivari, and I was primed to buy it.
However, you know what happens when you're an eager book buyer. The book languished on my TBR bookshelf for nearly ten years. The TBR Challenge was the perfect tool to rescue it out of obscurity.
Well, on to the book...
"I have a violin that was born in 1713. It was alive long before me, and I hope it lives long after me. I don't consider it my violin. Rather, I am perhaps its violinist; I am passing through its life."
In a poignant statement in 2000, violinist and UNESCO Goodwill Ambassador, Ivry Gitlis highlights what is at the heart of this book: Violins (and cellos) of ancient pedigree that flit through the lives of humans, illuminating everything and everybody in their paths.
Yehudi Menuhin expresses the same sentiment beautifully here:
"A great violin is alive; its very shape embodies its maker's intentions, and its wood stores the history, or the soul, of its successive owners."
The book Stradivari's Genius traces the origins of the violin in the court of Catherine de Medici in the mid-sixteenth century. Violinmaking in Cremona, Italy began around the same time with the Amatis making the first memorable one in 1564. Everything of today's violins' form and function can be seen in that 1564 violin. A brief history of the Amatis, the Stradivaris, the Guarneris (beginning with del Gesù), the Rogeris, the Rugeris, and the Guadagninis follows.
In talking about the violinmakers of Cremona, Faber does an excellent job of explaining how the various parts of the violin were constructed and how the shape, size, thickness, type, etc. of the woods chiseled by the Cremonese artists affected the acoustics of the instruments they constructed.
The book follows the stories of five violins and one cello, from their origin in Stradivari's workshop to their ownership by various players and dealers. The Strads, as they're affectionately known, each have names, which they gained from their famous owners. Four of the violins are called: the Viotti, the Khevenhüller, the Paganini, and the Lipiński. The cello is called the Davidov. The fifth violin is called The Messiah from a joke by one of the dealers about its reputation.
The majority of the book is delightfully gossipy about the passionate violinists, their glories and their peccadillos, the men and women they consorted with, the dealing shenanigans of the collectors and luthiers, the benevolence of the patrons, and the daredevil schemes hatched by violin lovers to safeguard or steal the instruments. Have you seen the movie The Red Violin? That is the style of the book.
The book is characterized by occasional spurts of humor: "Complaints about the 'rubbish put out by the BBC' started almost as soon as it began broadcasting." Well, nothing has changed about that to this day.
One negative aspect of the book was the occasional sexism in Faber's writing. Here's how he describes virtuosa Marie Hall: "A slight eighteen-year-old, dark and beautiful, with lips that might nowadays be called sensuous." None of the men were described thusly. They were called handsome of charming but with no specific commentary. Another example: "It [the player and the instrument] is a marriage. The violin is such a feminine instrument that the metaphor seems almost inescapable at least for men. Women are more likely to regard their violins as an extension of themselves."
Pity about him descending to such lows in an otherwise well-paced and engrossing narrative.
Friday, December 12, 2014
Have a listen to the prose-poem Beowulf as read in the original Old English language.
From Open Culture: "As you can hear in the Beowulf reading above from The Telegraph, it’s a thick, consonant-rich language that may put you in mind of J.R.R. Tolkien’s elvish. The language arrived in Briton—previously inhabited by Celtic speakers—sometime in the fifth century, though whether the Anglo-Saxon invasion was a hostile takeover by Germanic mercenaries or a slow population drift that introduced a new ethnicity is a matter of some dispute. Nevertheless it’s obvious from the reading above—and from texts in the language like this online [written] edition of Beowulf in its original tongue—that we would no more be able to speak to the Anglo-Saxons than we would to the Picts and Scots they conquered."
Thursday, December 11, 2014
I. AM. DONE.
The Big Fat Book Project of reading The Game of Kings, the first book in the Lymond Chronicles, by Dorothy Dunnett is over. I have listened to the audiobook, read the paper copy twice, and read the companion The Ultimate Guide to Dorothy Dunnett's The Game of Kings by Laura Ramsey.
For reference, here are my July, August, September, October, and November updates.
What an experience this has been—exhausting and exhilarating at the same time. For a text of this complexity in characterization, plot, and prose, this type of close reading was the best way to appreciate it. Doing any one thing would've made the experience so much poorer.
I have lived with the story for more than four months now. Scarcely has a day gone by when I have not thought of Lymond and his unceasing activities. I have endlessly debated the intentions behind everything that he does and utters. He is moralistic in his own way and has feelings just like anyone else. Nothing about him is obvious; sometimes, he is obscure even to himself.
I cannot say I like him. However, lack of likeability has not hampered my identifying him as the hero of his tale. Without Lymond, the story dwindles to nothing. He's larger than life and affects everything even when he's off-stage. Every person, every event in the story is a puppet under Lymond's control. His grandiloquence set against his vulnerability and his passion are what save him from being an out and out villain in his own story.
Lymond's, and Dunnett's, astonishing intellectual gifts are far more appreciable with the companion guide. What is also appreciable is the depth of research and historical authenticity Dunnett brings to this tale.
Samuel Gilles's reading added so much depth and texture to the emotional content of the story. He made the characters come alive as individuals, each with their own motivations and hang-ups. His reading was part of what delivered the redemption of Lymond's character to me.
This is historical fiction at its finest. The story is peopled with real historical people interacting with fictional people. At no point does anyone step out of character, time, or place. You could not take any of the characters out, displace them in time and place, and expect the story to remain unchanged. This was key for me. This story, these fictional characters could not have existed in any other time or place.
Friday, December 5, 2014
I can only link to the virtual tour of the Canterbury Cathedral, not reproduce is here. But it is worth going over there for a look-see. Magnificent!
Friday, November 28, 2014
Stourhead in Wiltshire, England has one of the world's finest 18th-century landscaped gardens with classical and gothic follies, a lake, bridge, and other such small structures in addition to the parkland.
Posted on: 11/28/2014 08:09:00 AM
Copyright 2007–2014 Keira Soleore (keirasoleore.blogspot.com)
Tuesday, November 25, 2014
Reporting progress on my Big Fat Book Project. What started out as a large project of listening to the audiobook has turned into a gigantic project: listening to the audiobook, two reads of the book, and a read of the detailed companion guide.
I've progressed swimmingly this month with my listening of The Game of Kings by Dorothy Dunnett and the re-reading of the book. Correspondingly, I have been progressing along in the reading of the companion The Ultimate Guide to Dorothy Dunnett's The Game of Kings by Laura Ramsey.
Last month, my exercising had been brought to a halt by a worsening old injury on my right knee. I am happy to report that said knee is doing a little better now with physical therapy. While I'm not back to exercising, the progress on the audio front is proceeding apace. I still have a ways to go before my December 31 deadline.
Having read, er, devoured, the paper copy last month, I thought that this month's listening would be an exercise in going through the motions. I already knew what was going to happen. Where was the newness, the discovery in that? Well, for one, I had discounted the fact that I was consuming the companion guide at the same time. Knowing all the previously-unknown material meant that I understood the complexity of the plot and Lymond's character far better.
Secondly, I had not taken into account performer Samuel Gillies's excellent reading. His interpretation of the characters' personalities added to the richness of the tapestry of Dunnett's prose.
And lastly, I had forgotten, in my paper copy reading, how very complex the story truly is. It was more work for me to keep the facts in my head during the listening since I didn't have the luxury of leafing back to re-read, nor did I like having to repeatedly stop/rewind/re-listen. So having read the story once and continuing to re-read it and to read the companion guide alongside helped to hold the facts at the forefront of my mind as I listened.
The companion guide is marvelous! What a treasure trove of myriad details. I had been impressed with Dunnett's library and knowledge before I read the companion guide, and now I'm even more impressed. How did she retain all those arcane snippets of information and then sift through her brain to find them just at the right moments?
Back to the guide, first up is a detailed list of all the characters, historical or fictional, with basic information on their titles, roles, and relationships. The guide's list of characters is far better than Dunnett's list of characters. I have always thought that the titles of the aristocracy were confusing, but this list of characters makes it even more so.
As an aside, when I looked at the list, I wondered when the "Master of" title became deprecated in history. It is used as a secondary title for either an heir or a younger son, as far as I can tell. However, when did it fall into disuse? By the time the Regency comes around, there's no "Master of" title, though courtesy titles were often granted to the heirs.
One of the best features of this companion guide is a detailed timeline of the events in the book. Another handy timeline is Lymond's backstory. If you read these two lists, you'll have the Cliff Notes version of the story. However, if you're reading Dunnett's book for the first time, I would not recommend that you read either of these two lists first. Treat yourself to the luxury of discovering the story as you read along.
As far as the main portion of the guide goes, nearly 350 pages, it is full of fascinating information. For example, I learned that the opening quotes of each of the chapters of Dunnett's book are either from The Game and Playe of the Chesse by William Caxton (1415–1492) or from The Book of the Customs of Men and the Duties of Nobles AKA The Buke of Ye Chess by Jacobus de Cessolis (1250–1322).
On the first page, a fragment of a sentence, ...the Sea-Catte reached Scotland from Campvere..., is explained as follows: "Campvere, a fortified seaport of the Netherlands on the islands of Walcheren, was once of considerable commercial importance as all goods sent from Scotland to the Netherlands were held there until sold."
A stray line such as, Tonight the Castle on its pinnacle was fully lit..., has an explanation of the origins of Edinburgh Castle, its history, where it's located on the map of Edinburgh, its relationship to Holyrood Abbey/House/Palace, and a map of a bird's-eye view of the English attack on Edinburgh and Holyrood in 1544.
A reference to the Battle of Solway Moss (November 24, 1542) cites the history of the battle and includes the roles the historical and fictional characters on the battlefield and off it.
Detailed biographical information about the central historical characters is included along with photographs. In general, almost every page is accompanied by a picture depicting the person, event, or thing being talked about.
As I said before, this guide is simply marvelous. If you really want to understand the plethora of off-the-cuff remarks and quotations in Dunnett's book, this guide is indispensable.
[For reference, here are my July, August, September, and October updates.]
Monday, November 24, 2014
Friday, November 21, 2014
This is what it means to be a multitasker working on multiple screens medieval style. This is a painting of Venetian (then French) author Christine de Pizan (1364–1430), who was known as a proto-feminist of her day.
Here's what Wikipedia has to say about her: "She served as a court writer for several dukes (Louis of Orleans, Philip the Bold of Burgundy, and John the Fearless of Burgundy) and the French royal court during the reign of Charles VI. She wrote both poetry and prose works such as biographies and books containing practical advice for women. She completed forty-one works during her 30-year career from 1399–1429."
Pretty, pretty impressive!
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
As part of Wendy Crutcher's 2014 TBR Challenge, here are my comments on Robert Frost edited by Gary D. Schmidt and illustrated by Henri Sorensen.
It has been decades since I last wrote critically about poetry. So this commentary is not meant to be read as a literary criticism of Frost's work or even as an authoritative reading of his poems. This is merely a case of "ooh, look how cool I find this and why" sort of thing.
Frost liked to introduce readers to his poetry with his poem The Pasture. In it, he invites a friend or a stranger walking by into his pasture just as he wants to invite the reader into his world of imagination.
I'm going out to clean the pasture spring;
I'll only stop to rake the leaves away
(And wait to watch the water clear, I may)
I sha'n't be gone long.—You come too.
I was a fey young 'un wet behind the ears when I was first introduced to Frost's poems in school. I still remember my first poem and the marveling tone of our language teacher as she recited it from memory.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Who can forget the majesty of the imagery behind Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening? One recitation, and I was in love. This poem, unfortunately, is not part of this collection.
However, my other favorite, The Road Not Taken, is included here. The thing that always strikes me about Frost is the sparseness of his choice of words. Some poets are flowery and use similes and metaphors to illustrate their points; Frost, on the other hand, goes for simplicity in thought and word and comes away with something profound.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
What a mundane little thing like arriving at a fork in the path in the woods one autumn evening and choosing to go down one and not the other to spark off a serious thought about life's choices and not always choosing the easiest or known path, but choosing the right path for that moment in time.
In this folio collection, the poems are divided by seasons. The other autumn poem I liked was In Hardwood Groves, wherein he talks about how things have to fall down before they can rise up again. In going down, they give succor to the flowers that are going to rise up from beneath. And when new leaves rise up on the trees, they provide shade to the dancing flowers beneath.
Many of Frost's poems are about going out for walks and writing about what he sees and what he feels about what he sees. In Good Hours, he talks about his one winter evening walk when he walked past cottages in the village full of life being lived behind well-lit windows.
I had the sound of a violin;
I had a glimpse through curtain laces
Of youthful forms and youthful faces.
As I read this, I also wondered whether Frost was lonely. Whether on that cold winter evening, he felt like an outsider in the dark, while in the glow of light and fire, families lived and rejoiced.
To Frost, walking was his chief source of inspiration. So he ends the springtime poem To The Thawing Wind by urging the strong southwester wind to scatter his written work to propel him outside to seek new inspiration. But before that end, he writes with surpassing beauty of what he'd like the storm to do in banishing winter.
Come with rain, O loud Southwester!
Give the buried flower a dream;
Make the settled snowbank steam;
Find the brown beneath the white;
But whate're you do tonight,
Bathe my window, make it flow,
Melt it as the ice will go;
Who would have the imagination to write a poem about a telegraph pole? I mean, really. That's about as blah as you can think of. And yet, Frost turns it into a thing to marvel at. He calls it a resurrected tree that had been cut down but stood stalwart again, a barkless specter. He talks about how this tree carries these wires on its shoulders, wires that lead off to faraway places and carries news of exotic events. This is An Encounter.
"You here?" I said. "Where aren't you nowadays?
And what's the news you carry—if you know?
And tell me where you're off for—Montreal?
Me? I'm not off for anywhere at all.
Sometimes I wander out of beaten ways
Half looking for the orchid Calypso."
Friday, November 14, 2014
Friday, November 7, 2014
Thank you everyone for reading, participating, and commenting. The winner of the Joanna Bourne giveaway of ROGUE SPY is....
Daniella Santos !!!
Congratulations, Daniella! Please email your address to me: keira at keirasoleore dot org. You have until end-of-day Thursday, November 13, 2014 to get back to me, otherwise I will give it away to someone else.
Thursday, November 6, 2014
Whenever I'm about to start a new Joanna Bourne book, or even an oft-read book, I get this fillip of excitement. I know I'm in for a great reading experience.
I've been a fan of Bourne since her first book, The Spymaster's Lady. The romance book world was abuzz when that book was released. People felt the way I did—we were watching the launch of a legend in romance. Was it the story? The action? The plotting and pacing? The characters? The dialogue? Well, it was everything, and it dazzled us.
What I noticed first and last and always was the writing. When you read a Bourne, you realize how well-crafted her prose is. It's not just beauty and elegance of phrasing but it is the carefully chosen nuance and shades of a nuance that'll portray that particular detail layered with that particular emotion just at that perfect moment in time.
For example, look at how she reveals Pax's character in Rogue Spy:
The woman he'd been watching tossed another wide circle of crumbs and her cloak flowed like water falling. Sparrows hopped and scuttled madly left or right around her feet. He's do that lone, self-contained figure in chalks, the sweet curve of her cloak laid in burnt sienna over indigo. He'd thumb in one soft smudge of pale amber under her hood, where the plane of her cheek showed.
Bourne shows here that not only is Pax a very observant spy, but he's an artist of some skill who prefers to work in chalk. He looks at the world like it's a painting he can emulate.
What does it take to be perceived as a coachman? See in The Spymaster's Lady:
Across the courtyard, Will Doyle was playing coachman, pacing the off-side horse, a big piebald mare, in a wide circle around the inn yard, watching its gait.
Here's another example, where in one fell swoop, she reveals the character of Justine, Séverine, Maggie, and Doyle and the political climate of the story in The Black Hawk:
Her sister was well cared for. She was held within that mansion as in careful cupped hands. She was given the pretty riding habit and sleek, playful pony. Given the tutor — he had been a great scholar in France before he was broken and tossed aside by the Revolution. That was another soul Marguerite gave refuge to. Alert, dangerous veterans of the war, some missing an eye or an arm, patrolled the perimeter. Three monster dogs coursed the grounds after dark. If there were any peace and safety in the world, William Doyle folded it around his wife and the children in his house.
I find that I have to be very alert when I'm reading in order to not miss gem after such gem. And they are on every page to be discovered on the first read-through or the tenth.
Right at the very beginning of her books, Bourne launches the reader into a chaotic and agonizing scene for one of her protagonists. The stories take off with a bang and the action never lets up. Take a look at the beginnings of three of her books:
She was willing to die, of course, but she has not planned to do it so soon, or in such a prolonged and uncomfortable fashion, or at the hands of her own countrymen. —The Spymaster's Lady
The past caught up to her in the rain, in Braddy Square, six hundred yards from Meeks Street. —The Black Hawk
The end of her own particular world arrived early on a Tuesday morning, wrapped in brown paper and twine, sealed with a blog of red wax. —Rogue Spy
You immediately know something about the three heroines and the dire situations they face. They're at the end of their rope, so the only way to move forward is for them to be extremely resourceful. And the reader is thus launched into the story, dying to find out.
In the midst of all the angst of on-stage and off-stage physical and emotional action, Bourne's stories are romances, not just thrillers with love scenes. These days, it is rare to find this: love scenes that are organic—that are there because it's a natural progression in the characters' growth arc for them to be intimate, that are never of the "X number of scenes with Y positions" variety sprinkled with a liberal hand in the narrative at the expense of actual story. From The Spymaster's Lady: Lovemaking is of the mind, not a grappling of anatomies.
What was highly intriguing to me about The Spymaster's Lady and Rogue Spy is how those two storylines fit jigsaw puzzle-like with each other. Even as the first was part-way through, the latter was taking off, and the two heroes, Grey and Pax crossed each other and interacted with each other in the other's storylines. Bourne does this over and over again with her characters and other books. How in the world does she keep those tiny details straight in her head to avoid making mistakes within the books and across the books? Quite impossible to maintain such a detailed book bible.
Many times in series, characters who're going to be heroes or heroines of their stories show up in the first book as minor characters with not much happening to them. Not so with Bourne's stories. Her sequel heroes have their stories start from the very first book even if they're minor characters. So while each book is a standalone, reading the books in order makes for a far better reading experience, because it allows you to weave a rich tapestry of Bourne's world, and in her world, every tiny detail counts.
Note that the order of publication is not the order of the series, since Bourne has written books out of chronological order in her series.
I really like how she's grounds her characters and the storylines with a great concept of home for these rootless spies. Number 7 Meeks Street is their headquarters. This is where they come to confess their darkest moments and find succor. Within its walls, these assassins find peace to examine their lives and choose new directions. Galba is their taskmaster, secretive and ruthless, and yet he exerts a benevolent influence over the motley societal misfits.
From The Spymaster's Lady:
"One more thing..." Galba had become grave. He moved the inkwell upon his desk a finger's breadth to the left and stared at it, his lips compressed and twisted at the corner, as if the inkwell had blighted many hopes. "We heard of your mother's death, but not how it happened. Will you tell me?"
Her point-of-view worldview is masterful. Her characters don't slip out of, well, character. They don't see things they can't, they don't infer things that only others would know, and so on. When you're in one character's head, you're enmeshed in that character's personality, knowledge, experience, and vision.
I could go on and on about what I find fascinating about the writing and the world of Joanna Bourne's stories.
[A complete aside: May I gush on about how very much I like the cover of Rogue Spy? There's human interest, there's drama and atmosphere, there's a historical feel, there's a romance feel, it's classy and understated—just the perfect cover.]
I'm giving away one print copy of Rogue Spy to a commenter. This offer is good for U.S. and Canadian readers only. Deadline for commenting is Thursday, November 6, 2014 11:59pm Pacific Time.
Please tell me: Have you read any of Joanna Bourne's books? If so, which one is your favorite and why? If none of her books worked for you, why not?
Tuesday, November 4, 2014
Haven't all those of us who write journals, blogs, articles, reviews, stories, books, what-have-you always known that writing is pleasurable and the feeling of satisfaction lasts beyond the immediate? Now, it's been found that the act of writing has long term health benefits, mental and physical.
If you were involved in a traumatic or stressful life event or illness, writing about it allows you to heal faster and less painfully. Asthma sufferers have fewer attacks, AIDS patients have higher T-cell counts, physical wounds heal faster, people sleep better, immune systems strengthen, and so on.
"James W. Pennebaker believes this act of expressive writing allows people to take a step back and evaluate their lives. Instead of obsessing unhealthily over an event, they can focus on moving forward. By doing so, stress levels go down and health correspondingly goes up."
Every one can do it, according to Pennybaker. You don't have to be a serious novelist or a book critic. Journal. Write a short paragraph every day.
When I was making my new year's goals in December 2013, I decided to start a 365 Days of Positivity Journal. I started on January 1 and so far I have had an unbroken record. I maintain an online journal, and every day so far, I have posted a short paragraph (and sometimes, many long paragraphs) on something good that happened that day. It hasn't always been something profound, and it hasn't always been something that affected me directly, other than the joy I received from watching something wonderful happen to someone I'm really close to. But it has always been something positive.
As I did it week after week, I started to realize that I was looking for things to be delighted in during my days. I'd make mental notes to type it up when something good happened. It put me in the moment, appreciating what was happening to me.
Overall, I have found that it has made me resilient, in that, when things aren't so hot, I'm not down in the dumps for long. Well, because even on the worst days, something good happens every day.
When you're willing to appreciate even the mundane, it takes the pressure off to BE a certain way. You write about it as it happens and the way it happens. There's no prize for it to be an earth-shattering moment. I have half a dozen entries that say that today was a day when nothing bad happened. That routine day was a good day in my book. I have appreciated sunsets, my baby's belly laughs, a good book, a delicious meal cooked by someone else, work successes, bears visiting my backyard (yes, really! my backyard backs into a protected forest, so we've had bears, bobcats, foxes, coyotes, deer, raccoons, and other small critters visiting regularly—I feel like I'm the one in the zoo and they're coming to look at me), and so on.
Something good, no matter how miniscule, or sometimes the lack of something bad, happens every single day. And I'm grateful for it.
Friday, October 31, 2014
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
Reporting progress on my Big Fat Book Project. I have now finished 12 of 25 hours of The Game of Kings by Dorothy Dunnett. This means I should've read around 250 out of 554 pages in the paper copy.
BUT Dear Reader, I cheated. The book got too exciting for me. I raced ahead and devoured the paper copy. Or rather, the story devoured me.
My exercising was hijacked by an old injury on my right knee flaring up and worsening. As a result, the audio part of the BFB Project went kaput. As I have mentioned before, without a mindless activity to occupy my body, my mind doesn't merely wander, it roams far and wide. Sitting in a chair listening is not an activity for me. So while I have now thoroughly enjoyed, finished, and digested the paper copy, I have given myself till December 31 to finish the audiobook. I sincerely hope I can achieve that goal comfortably, and I'm not up late in the week between Christmas and New Year's swotting.
As I read ahead, I—guiltily—abandoned reading with the dictionary and Google at my elbow. Even assiduous googling didn't always yield satisfactory results. In the comments of my September post, reader simhedges had recommended The Ultimate Guide to Dorothy Dunnett's The Game of Kings by Laura Ramsey as the perfect companion guide to the book. I had planned then on reading it as a side-by-side-third-go-through of the main text. That book has been bought, but remains largely unread.
I gave up on understanding every word and every phrase and every nuance. There were far too many of those pesky references to historical events, movements, and people; literary allusions; and foreign languages. I was too engrossed in the story to take the time to slow down and really understand every word. I hope to read the companion book next month as I continue with the audiobook.
I really wonder what Dunnett's personal library looks like for her to be able to sprinkle all these into her narrative.
I do understand that some books are like a thin-crust pizza: everything is visible on the surface. And yet others are like onions, you peel and peel and peel and uncover something more you hadn't noticed before. Discovery is the joy of re-reading books such as these. While this is certainly the case with Dunnett's book, it did cross my mind a time or two that it was striving to be so more than being organically so. A minor quibble in an overwhelmingly fabulous read on many levels.
For a tome with a huge cast of characters and movement of said people hither and yon and involved in this or that, the book is paced perfectly. It's neither so fast as to be overwhelming and discombobulating, neither does it drag. That was my primary fear of taking on a big book: Would I have to slog through the book page by torturous page just to say, "I did it"? I did not want this to be my Crime and Punishment.
Fortunately, that hasn't been the case, in fact, far from it. It was engrossing reading whether or not Lymond was in the scene. The Lymond scenes were admittedly slightly anxious reading/listening ones for me: I was always anticipating his perpetrating some other outrage on some other hapless head.
At the beginning of the month, I remember thinking: I am eagerly awaiting the scene where something or someone is going to give Lymond his comeuppance. Oh, certainly not bring him to his knees—that would be too common—but just put a check in his arrogant, insouciant stride and give him a moment of mental discomfort.
Let me tell you that there was karma even in Lymond's world!
Last month, I had written: "This has got to be one heck of a character arc for Lymond. My imagination fails me in picturing Lymond's transformation from anti-hero to hero."
Well, let me also tell you, Dunnett delivers! By God, she does.
[For reference, here are my July, August, and September updates.]
Friday, October 24, 2014
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
Winter Comes to Nargothrond is a poem by J.R.R. Tolkien as scribed by Thascales. I don't have a blog posted this week yet but wanted to share this poem with you that I love.
The summer slowly in the sad forest
waned and faded. In the west arose
winds that wandered over warring seas.
Leaves were loosened from labouring boughs:
fallow-gold they fell, and the feet buried
of trees standing tall and naked,
rustling restlessly down roofless aisles,
shifting and drifting.
The shining vessel
of the sailing moon with slender mast,
with shrouds shapen of shimmering flame,
uprose ruddy on the rim of Evening
by the misty wharves on the margin of the world.
With winding horns winter hunted
in the weeping woods, wild and ruthless;
sleet came slashing, and slanting hail
from glowering heaven grey and sunless,
whistling whiplash whirled by tempest.
The floods were freed and fallow waters
sweeping seaward, swollen, angry,
filled with flotsam, foaming, turbid,
passed in tumult. The tempest died.
Frost descended from far mountains
steel-cold and still. Stony-glinting
ice hung evening was opened wide,
a dome of crystal over deep silence,
over windless wastes and woods standing
as frozen phantoms under flickering stars.