Posts by Jolisa
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The main problem with it, thinking back, was that there were several plotlines where I just didn't see the point - mostly Juliet's. What was Pterry trying to say about society/people/history?
Juliet=Kate Moss, I think? The point being that beauty is still one fast ticket out of the Shambles? Failing that, brains and jolly good pie-making skills. But yes, the book felt more tangential than some of the big systems-analysis (police, banks, post office) that you get in other recent books. Although the university politics were quite satisfying.
I can't help thinking that Jolisa might wonder what's happened here when she sees we have started talking about shooting and eating rabbits,
My favourite fluffy bunny book of all time is of course Watership Down. Alas, I don't know if it would impress me today in the same way that it blew my animal-loving, human-fearing, proto-vegetarian 11 year old mind. I remember being deeply offended at the time by the story about the butcher shop that had the sign: "You've read the book, now eat the pie." Heh.
Rob, I'm glad you liked One Day. I think I'll re-read it, as soon as I'm finished with the new Martin Amis, which so far -- contrary to the author's own dire prophecies -- is not scandalising or infuriating me. Instead I find myself jotting "LOL" in the margin and exclaiming "awwww, how sweet!" So far, anyway.
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I love Mika and pretty much everything he (ahem) stands for, but that picture doesn't quite work for me. In my head I hear his haka, "Tenei taku ure, whakatü rite taiaha," and I look at the portrait and that taiaha just isn't whakatü at all. I mean, it's nice and all, but somehow I feel it should be standing to (our) attention instead of lying down on the job.
Y'know, as part of the artistic composition of the whole thing.
Because he's not contrapposto at all: he's squared-off, balanced, vertically aligned, and tense. Where a viewer might expect, or desire, a corresponding tension and firmness at the centre of the image, it all just sort of... falls down, in a sweet humble little bundle of bathos.
Whereas what's so weirdly hot, ah, I mean, artistically riveting about Mr Jolly Hockey-Sticks from the previous link is that there's an undeniable solidity about his supplementary sports equipment. Even if it's pointing the wrong way.
And yet perhaps that's the whole point of the Mika portrait: masculinity undone, softness where you'd expect hardness, as above so (not) below, etc. Perhaps most viewers come to the portrait assuming it's a female nude, and so the necessary surprise as their eyes work their way down comes best as a stealthy jolt, rather than BOOYA!
Still, I reckon if the medium were wood (as it were) rather than photography, erectness would be a given. And I would so love to have seen the jubilant "fuck me!" energy that a little counter-gravity would have lent to this particular image.
[Wonders if there are out-takes from the portrait session that would fit the bill...]
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I love Summer Morn; we have it on the wall here in New Haven, along with Pohutukawa Rina.
I once heard from someone (who was closely related to the artist, and claimed to have heard it from her) that the reason the figure with the parasol is so obscure and blurred is that it wasn't the intended model.
The story goes that when the lass who was meant to show up didn't arrive, Evelyn bundled her husband Fred into a frock and sat him in the boat.
I don't care if it's true or not: the mere possibility tweaks the painting enough to make me smile every time I look at it.
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Rabbit must be a remarkably forgiving friend, is all I can say. On the other hand, aren't bunnies, for all their fluffy charm, coprophagic little monsters? (Another small detail that I don't remember being featured in Watership Down : "Oh Hazel, I'm starving!" "Wait a minute, Fiver, and I'll have something nice and hot for you...").
Probably best not to be too literal when it comes to animals in children's books, as the great Pterry suggests in Where's My Cow? -- which is dedicated to the proposition that we're fools to catechise children about "what does the [cow, chicken, pig, etc] say?" when what farm animals mostly say, in our daily experience, is... "sizzle."
(I also recall another really good Scandinavian childrens' book series, but the name escapes me - about a bunch of kids living on neighbouring farms?)
Noisy Village, by Astrid Lindgren! We loved these books. Especially the bit about two houses with a huge tree between them, so the children could climb from one top-storey bedroom to the other. Might look the books out and re-read the Christmas chapters aloud tonight... ta for the reminder!
I am another who wanted to like Moomins but just couldn't. I find them faintly terrifying, but appreciate the vision of parenting therein. I should try again, now that there are graphic novel versions. And I've got Tove Jansson's The Summer Book to read over winter. It's bracingly dark and unfussy and weird.
And pooh to you Pooh-pooh-poohers! It's comforting stuff for those of us with hearts of marshmallow, as Zen as you could wish for, AND endlessly satirisable,* so there's something for everyone. No need to squabble. (*I liked what Jon Bridges did with James James Morrison Morrison recently.)
A belated apology to Danielle for not putting a "Warning: will freak out tender souls and pregnant ladies and especially both" on that Helen Simpson story. It took me by surprise too - all that chortly Brit-lit novel-of-manners stuff and then BAM! Apocalypse now! Still, the darkest season of the year is always a good excuse for a decent horror story. Like, I dunno, giving birth sans midwife in a freezing barn and then having a bunch of kings turn up to say hi, with not a casserole between them. Shudder!
On that note, off to stock up on brandy and buttermilk and bacon... and the Book Fairy just wrapped up a few late-arriving parcels from Amazon, hurrah. Keep the discussion rolling as you wish... or put a bookmark in it and come back in the New Year. Happy holidays and happy reading, everyone!
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My bet is its the Oh God of Hangovers, about to pay a visit.
Damn, Rob, you're right. It is G & T o'clock over here.
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In the midst of thinking about how not to write a historical novel over the last month and a bit, I picked up a Very Serious book of essays on the subject by the Very Serious A.S. Byatt. And was delighted to discover that, with an absolutely straight face, she quoted Terry Pratchett as one of her examples.
What I love about his work is that it tells you almost everything you might want to know about the long 18th century, culturally speaking, as understood from the vantage point of the long 20th century, except on a completely different planet. With jokes. It's a brilliant act of translation, but above all, of creation.
He came to the Yale Bookstore a year or so ago, and we went along and sat on the carpet in the front row like first-year fan-boy-and-girls while he told old jokes that sounded absolutely minty-fresh. Lovely guy.
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glingle, glingle, glingle
Did you hear that??
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Scribbling down the brilliant recommendations and bookmarking the Book Depository. Thank you!!
Swallows & Amazons was the soundtrack of two years ago, read aloud over a period of several months... I wanted to blog it at the time but didn't want to break the spell. We even acquired the 1970s BBC adaptations which were on such high rotate that the then one-year-old used to hum the theme tune and happily say to himself "Kids on boats."
The thought that the young actors actually grew up and went on to other things was a hard notion to fathom at first, but the older lad was happy to hear that the boy who played Tom Dudgeon grew up to found a chain of non-crappy fast food restaurants. Even wackier was googling the actors from the Just William series, our current craze, and discovering that a) Violet Elizabeth Bott became one of the Doctor's companions, among many other things, and b) "William" himself is living happily ever after in Manhattan as an art critic and Lacanian. Excellent second acts all round.
For some mysterious reason, he won't read the S & A books himself, now that he can read. But they were a huge feature of the imaginative world for a while there, right down to getting a captain's telescope for Christmas 07.
Willard Price and Gerald Durrell noted! I have 2 copies of the 10 pm Question but might set it aside for a year or two on the grounds of emotional maturity. And yes to Pterry in any form, but starting with the YA. The Amazing Maurice and his etc was a big hit, and the Johnny books also.
I'm with Philip on re-reading -- and un-reading. Life's too short, so I have no qualms these days about stopping a book if it stops working for me (unless I'm reviewing it of course, although sometimes I wish I could!). Which gives me time to re-read the ones that work. When I can tear myself away from web-browsing, that is...
Islander: is James Tiptree, Jr. on your shelf?
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Wait, giving your chocolate away in the face of an oncoming snowstorm equals prescience how?
Amy, you don't imagine that was my only chocolate. Plus, I had to prime the librarians in case I required a house call later on.
So what are the books that you've read a zillion times? I have a few of those too, including everything by Dorothy L. Sayers, and my favouritest under-sung book ever, The Absence of a Cello by Ira Wallach.
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Ulp... I read one chapter and took it back to the library. I felt like Simon Cowell dissing someone for a karaoke-style rendering of some classic song. No disrespect to Colfer, it's a valiant effort and others might enjoy it, but Douglas Adams is the real thing.