Just shy of 500 pages, The Forest Laird by Jack Whyte is a tome. I did enjoy the story and all the details of life in the late 1200s, even though, having seen the movie Braveheart years ago, I knew how tragic William Wallace's life was. The vernacular and old-speak in the story was great, like using "ken" instead of the word "know", but I didn't glean any quotes from it.
I subbed for an English teacher today and one of my classes read Irving Washington's The Devil and Tom Walker (out of the Adventures in American Literature textbook.) Written in early the 1800's, this cautionary tale is set in 1727.
Vivid descriptions of the warring couple:
He had a wife as miserly as himself: they were so miserly that they even conspired to cheat each other.
This quote is less about a lovely turn of phrase and more about its interesting attitude toward slavery, given the era it was written in:
He [the devil] insisted that the money found through his means should be employed in his service. He proposed, therefore, that Tom should employ it in the black traffic; that is to say that he should fit out a slave ship. This, however, Tom resolutely refused: he was bad enough in all conscience; but the devil himself could not tempt him to turn slave trader.
And who hasn't met a self-righteous s.o.b. like this:
Tom was as rigid in religious as money matters; he was a stern supervisor and censurer of his neighbor, and seemed to think every sin entered up to their account became a credit on his own side of the page.
Ah, me. Fun in a high school English Lit class.
I started the book that another of my classes from today is reading. By page 18 I was hooked.
Here's a quote from the preface: We are born with whirlwinds, forest fires, and comets inside us. We are born able to sing to birds and read the clouds and see our destiny in grains of sand. But then we get the magic educated right out of our souls. We get it churched out, spanked out, washed out and combed out.
Can you guess what this novel is that I am reading now?
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
Friday, December 20, 2013
Dreamers of the Day
I did not expect to like Dreamers of the Day; from the sleeve it sounded too historical and political for me. But what a talented writer. Mary Doria Russell made this story so alive, I could hardly put it down. Agnes' personal story laid over the cultural portrait of the early 1900s was completely engaging and it kept getting better through the events of the decades. It was thorough and intelligent. I love this book!
Page 21: Well, I cannot make poetry of our great trial, as Mr. Owen did of combat, but permit me to act the school teacher and explain to you the workings of the lungs.
Page 48: There we discovered that some confidence trick of climate and current had delivered us into a full and bracing spring.
Page 55: In contrast to the mute and shrouded hordes of Cairo's women, the city's men yelled constantly.
Page 125: Of them, I recall only the passage from sun glare to near blindness in the shadowed stony chill inside and the disorientation I felt until my eyes adjusted enough to discern exotic artwork in sputtering candlelight.
Page 165: The Israelites fleeing Pharaoh required forty years for that which our train accomplished in a matter of hours.
Page 176: And there at last was the Mount of Olives, glorified by the lingering brilliance of a golden sunset, its own purple shadows veiling hills that rose and retreated, height upon blue height.
Page 211: Add water, and the soil is so fertile that you could plant a pencil and harvest a book.
Page 244: Observing human history has turned out to be a terrible exercise in monotony.
Love it. Merry Christmas!
Page 21: Well, I cannot make poetry of our great trial, as Mr. Owen did of combat, but permit me to act the school teacher and explain to you the workings of the lungs.
Page 48: There we discovered that some confidence trick of climate and current had delivered us into a full and bracing spring.
Page 55: In contrast to the mute and shrouded hordes of Cairo's women, the city's men yelled constantly.
Page 125: Of them, I recall only the passage from sun glare to near blindness in the shadowed stony chill inside and the disorientation I felt until my eyes adjusted enough to discern exotic artwork in sputtering candlelight.
Page 165: The Israelites fleeing Pharaoh required forty years for that which our train accomplished in a matter of hours.
Page 176: And there at last was the Mount of Olives, glorified by the lingering brilliance of a golden sunset, its own purple shadows veiling hills that rose and retreated, height upon blue height.
Page 211: Add water, and the soil is so fertile that you could plant a pencil and harvest a book.
Page 244: Observing human history has turned out to be a terrible exercise in monotony.
Love it. Merry Christmas!
Friday, November 29, 2013
Seating Arrangements
Maggie Shipstead is a smooth and artful writer. Her entertaining debut novel, Seating Arrangements, had me transfixed. It begins in the father-of-the bride's voice and ends in his voice, but throughout the weekend of the wedding we get to be inside most of the characters' heads.
page 12: Makeup pencils and brushes were everywhere, abandoned helter-skelter as though by the fleeing beauticians of Pompeii.
page 38: The few times both sets of parents came together for dinners in Cambridge they had all bravely skated the hours away on a thin crust of chitchat.
page 93: Silence over stockings -- the first regret of his marriage.
page 113: Love was just one more thing that would make it difficult to die.
page 183: Female friendship was one-tenth prevention and nine-tenths cleanup. Livia would do what she wanted. The sad-girl hormones would bind her to another man who didn't want her, and when Sterling sloughed her off, Dominique would be called upon to indulge her defense mechanisms, tell her that of course there was some complilcated reason he would not allow himself to open up to her, of course he knew she was too good for him (no man ever thought that -- it went against natural selection), of course he was afraid of getting hurt.
page 12: Makeup pencils and brushes were everywhere, abandoned helter-skelter as though by the fleeing beauticians of Pompeii.
page 38: The few times both sets of parents came together for dinners in Cambridge they had all bravely skated the hours away on a thin crust of chitchat.
page 93: Silence over stockings -- the first regret of his marriage.
page 113: Love was just one more thing that would make it difficult to die.
page 183: Female friendship was one-tenth prevention and nine-tenths cleanup. Livia would do what she wanted. The sad-girl hormones would bind her to another man who didn't want her, and when Sterling sloughed her off, Dominique would be called upon to indulge her defense mechanisms, tell her that of course there was some complilcated reason he would not allow himself to open up to her, of course he knew she was too good for him (no man ever thought that -- it went against natural selection), of course he was afraid of getting hurt.
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
The Elegance of the Hedgehog
Although I've not been subbing much this month - too busy painting the new addition and doing remodel errands - I did manage to finish Muriel Barbery's The Elegance of the Hedgehog. Wonderful story, wonderfully told. It's told in two different voices, which I make note of with my font, just as Barbery does in the book. And then there were the whole chapters that I wanted to include here, beautiful. Several had tears rolling down my face.
Page 90: We have never had our tea together in the morning, and this break with our usual protocol imbues the ritual with a strange flavor.
Page 91: At moments like this the web of life is revealed by the power of ritual, and each time we renew our ceremony, the pleasure will be all the greater for our having violated one of its principles.
Page 106: Ah, sweet, impromptu moment, lifting the veil of melancholy... In a split second of eternity, everything is changed, transfigured.
Page 108: The death of Pierre Arthens has been wilting my camellias.
Page 119: We live each day as if it were merely a rehearsal for the next.
Page 128: We have to live with the certainty that we'll get old and that it won't look nice or be good or feel happy. And tell ourselves that it's now that matters, to build something, now, at any price, using all our strength. Always remember that there's a retirement home waiting somewhere and we have to surpass ourselves every day, make every day undying.
Page 143: Madame Michel has the elegance of a hedgehog: on the outside, she's covered in quills, a real fortress, but my gut feeling is that on the inside, she has the same simple refinement as the hedgehog: a deceptively indolent little creature, fiercely solitary - and terribly elegant.
Page 162: There is one chocolate Florentine left, which I nibble out of greediness, with my front teeth, like a mouse. If you change the way you crunch into something, it is like trying something new.
Page 247: I have always been fascinated by the abnegation with which we human beings are capable of devoting a great deal of energy to the quest for nothing and to rehashing of useless and absurd ideas.
Page 250: Eternity: for all its invisibility, we gaze at it.
Page 279: Melancholy overwhelms me, at supersonic speed.
I also read Harry Potter y la piedra filosofal, by J.K. Rowling. Just keeping my Spanish up.
There was one quote I kept.
Page 21: -- Sí, sí es todo muy triste, pero domínate, Hagrid, o van a descubrirnos -- susurró la profesora McGonagall... (my translation: "Yes, yes it's all very sad, but control yourself, Hagrid, or they will discover us," whispered Professor McGonagall.)
It's the domínate that I like, which means control yourself. Dominate yourself? Made me smile.
Page 90: We have never had our tea together in the morning, and this break with our usual protocol imbues the ritual with a strange flavor.
Page 91: At moments like this the web of life is revealed by the power of ritual, and each time we renew our ceremony, the pleasure will be all the greater for our having violated one of its principles.
Page 106: Ah, sweet, impromptu moment, lifting the veil of melancholy... In a split second of eternity, everything is changed, transfigured.
Page 108: The death of Pierre Arthens has been wilting my camellias.
Page 119: We live each day as if it were merely a rehearsal for the next.
Page 128: We have to live with the certainty that we'll get old and that it won't look nice or be good or feel happy. And tell ourselves that it's now that matters, to build something, now, at any price, using all our strength. Always remember that there's a retirement home waiting somewhere and we have to surpass ourselves every day, make every day undying.
Page 143: Madame Michel has the elegance of a hedgehog: on the outside, she's covered in quills, a real fortress, but my gut feeling is that on the inside, she has the same simple refinement as the hedgehog: a deceptively indolent little creature, fiercely solitary - and terribly elegant.
Page 162: There is one chocolate Florentine left, which I nibble out of greediness, with my front teeth, like a mouse. If you change the way you crunch into something, it is like trying something new.
Page 247: I have always been fascinated by the abnegation with which we human beings are capable of devoting a great deal of energy to the quest for nothing and to rehashing of useless and absurd ideas.
Page 250: Eternity: for all its invisibility, we gaze at it.
Page 279: Melancholy overwhelms me, at supersonic speed.
I also read Harry Potter y la piedra filosofal, by J.K. Rowling. Just keeping my Spanish up.
There was one quote I kept.
Page 21: -- Sí, sí es todo muy triste, pero domínate, Hagrid, o van a descubrirnos -- susurró la profesora McGonagall... (my translation: "Yes, yes it's all very sad, but control yourself, Hagrid, or they will discover us," whispered Professor McGonagall.)
It's the domínate that I like, which means control yourself. Dominate yourself? Made me smile.
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close
What an enjoyable read! I definitely recommend Jonathan Safran Foer's Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. It was full of imagination and characters transcending their tragedies with creativity and love. My MIL loaned it to me and I wanted to read it in September since 9/11 is central to its plotline. I found lots of quotes that I love, but I also liked what I couldn't quote about this story - the way it was interwoven.
Page 2: I desperately wish I had my tambourine with me now, because even after everything I'm still wearing heavy boots, and sometimes it helps to play a good beat.
Page 33: The end of suffering does not justify the suffering, and so there is no end to suffering, what a mess I am...
Page 74: I woke up once in the middle of the night, and Buckminster's paws were on my eyelids. He must have been feeling my nightmares.
Page 108: ... songs are as sad as the listener...
Page 126: ... maybe great books were coiled within him like springs, books that could have separated inside from outside.
Page 224: Time was passing like a hand waving from a train that I wanted to be on.
Page 209: The mistakes I've made are dead to me. But I can't take back the things I never did.
Page 2: I desperately wish I had my tambourine with me now, because even after everything I'm still wearing heavy boots, and sometimes it helps to play a good beat.
Page 33: The end of suffering does not justify the suffering, and so there is no end to suffering, what a mess I am...
Page 74: I woke up once in the middle of the night, and Buckminster's paws were on my eyelids. He must have been feeling my nightmares.
Page 108: ... songs are as sad as the listener...
Page 126: ... maybe great books were coiled within him like springs, books that could have separated inside from outside.
Page 224: Time was passing like a hand waving from a train that I wanted to be on.
Page 209: The mistakes I've made are dead to me. But I can't take back the things I never did.
Sunday, September 8, 2013
Mari's Books of August
I wanted to read a classic to my kids this summer, so I chose William Golding's Lord of the Flies. I think they expect something slow and dry, even if the story is good, when they hear "classic." But with such a weird and wicked story, they were certainly captivated. We stayed up quite late a couple of August nights and finished it quickly.
Page 137: The half-shut eyes were dim with the infinite cynicism of adult life.
Some time ago I had picked up a little book at our local library's overstock sale, Sinister Sudoku by Kaye Morgan. Both my mom and my MIL like to do sudoku. I thought I'd pass it along to one of them after I read it. Story was fine but it's not a book I need to keep.
And since then I have not been reading much. Busy getting ready for school, our family trip to Silverwood, getting our exchage student enrolled and ready. I subbed a six day assignment, starting the second day of school. I thought I'd get lots of reading in with lunches and prep periods, but I found that I actually had to do lots of prep. It wasn't until the last day or two that I read anything. I do like the book I'm currently reading. It's a good September book.
Always carry a book. *smile*
Page 137: The half-shut eyes were dim with the infinite cynicism of adult life.
Some time ago I had picked up a little book at our local library's overstock sale, Sinister Sudoku by Kaye Morgan. Both my mom and my MIL like to do sudoku. I thought I'd pass it along to one of them after I read it. Story was fine but it's not a book I need to keep.
And since then I have not been reading much. Busy getting ready for school, our family trip to Silverwood, getting our exchage student enrolled and ready. I subbed a six day assignment, starting the second day of school. I thought I'd get lots of reading in with lunches and prep periods, but I found that I actually had to do lots of prep. It wasn't until the last day or two that I read anything. I do like the book I'm currently reading. It's a good September book.
Always carry a book. *smile*
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Pacific Northwest Plein Air - last year
The Pacific Northwest Plein Air in the Columbia River Gorge is happening this Labor Day weekend. It is primarily painting, which is judged and accoladed, but there's a small (growing) writing portion. Last year was my first year participating in the writing.
I had published Eyes-Closed Tree inspired by The Gorge White House. You can read it here. Blush of Skin, my other piece, was inspired by Hood River's Waterfront Park and can be read here.
Each day for five days there is a location assigned, somewhere in or around Hood River Oregon. At the end the writer submits two pieces to be included in the online anthology. One of these will be displayed in the Plein Air exhibit at the Columbia Center for the Arts in Hood River during the month of September. Opening reception this year will be on Friday 6th, 6 - 8pm. Attendees can vote for a favorite painting; the writing is not juried.
This year I am busy, with working, kids in middle and high school and all their after school activities, hosting an exchange student, co-chairing the school music boosters and being on the executive team at my church, oh almost forgot the steering committee of the Underwood Community Garden. Against all reason I'm going to do Plein Air again this year. The quickness of it is intimidating but it's a good exercise for me. And it's fun!
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