I didn't intend to read all of Michael Cunningham's new book all in one go, but with one cat curled up next to me and the other on my stomach, I wasn't going anywhere. Specimen Days was interesting, and I enjoyed it, but I'm not totally sure what it was about. Walt Whitman's poetry was a major theme, but I just don't really know what happened; it didn't click for me immediately the way The Hours did. The set-up of the book is similar, with three loosely connected novellas, but none of the characters really captured me or evoked a sense of understanding. I've only dipped into his other two books and have little interest in them, and I'm really hoping that The Hours doesn't turn out to be his one big hit. It's so frustrating when that happens with authors--Tracy Chevalier is the same way. Oh well, I might reread Specimen Days more carefully and see if I can get more out of it.

I just remembered that we copied a bunch of CDs onto the computer a while back, and there are quite a few I haven't yet burned or even really listened to; so the past couple days I've been treating myself to some new music--Cowboy Junkies, Gillian Welch, and Over the Rhine. While listening to OTR's album "Films For Radio", I discovered that one of the songs on it was written by Dido--what a great combo! It's a neat song, too--click here and scroll down one song to read the lyrics. Music really fascinates me, as well as the ability of musicians to express themselves so perfectly. Though I'm by no means a superior writer, I get prose--I know more or less how it works, and how to produce it. But poetry and music are whole other worlds! I love the little vignettes of life that can be displayed in a good poem or song and illustrated even further by the one who reads or sings, speaking to one's soul so much more poignantly than prose.

It's not often that I see movies that either I really like or that I have anything to say about, but we've been on a lucky streak lately. For anybody interested in good films now that the days are growing shorter and evenings are better for snuggling on the couch than going for a good walk, try these...

*The penguin movie, a.k.a. "March of the Penguins"--the National Geographic film in theatres now is the most romantic movie I've ever seen. In my opinion it's not really a kid's movie, but we enjoyed it immensely and were astounded both by the cinematography and the single-mindedness of these strange animals.

*"Uncovered", starring Kate Beckinsale--I'd seen this a while back and been interested in it, but it wasn't till a second perusal of the synopsis on the box that I realized it was a dramatization of Arturo Perez-Reverte's excellent novel The Flanders Panel. Let me tell you, the book is a WHOLE lot better, mainly because it actually sustains suspense, whereas the movie seriously lacks subtlety. That said, if you haven't read the book (and you should--it's fantastic), the movie might amuse you with its dramatic story of mystery in the art world.

*"Mean Girls", starring Lindsay Lohan--I wanted to see this in great part because the main character is homeschooled, but my sister had also recommended it. I was pleasantly surprised to find it clever and highly amusing; Odious kept coming into the room to find out what I was laughing so much about. Lindsay Lohan is an excellent comic actress, and does a great job in this snarky film. I also liked that while homeschooling was somewhat ridiculed, the point was clearly made that high school is a terrible, terrible place that can suck in and corrupt even the best of teens.

*"Ponette"--this movie made me cry, and that's a pretty unusual occurrence. It's a French film about a little girl whose mother dies, and her attempts to understand and deal with the tragedy; the four-year-old actress is AMAZING. I'd been wanting to watch it for a while, and when I finally turned it on I intended to go to bed after an hour or so and finish it the following evening. It was soon clear that I was staying up late. What an incredible film--highest recommendations.

*"Funny Face", starring Audrey Hepburn and Fred Astaire--without the singing and dancing this movie would have been about 20 minutes long. I know most musicals are like that, but this one seemed particularly dull and poorly-acted--maybe it's best to experience them first as a child. Still, Audrey Hepburn is always good, and it was fun to hear the origin of songs like "Funny Face" and "S'marvelous".

The best thing about Kara Dalkey's Blood of the Goddess trilogy was that it (by a very random thought train) inspired me to start a new story that is going quite well. Actually I did enjoy the trilogy, although nothing much had really taken place by the time it was over. It starts out with a young apothecary's apprentice, Thomas Chinnery, en route to China to seek out new herbs and treatments for his master. A surprise battle at sea results in Thomas's capture, after he has met several strange people and resurrected a dead man with the use of a mysterious powder. An attempt at escape lands him in the Santa Casa, in the heart of the Spanish Inquisition, and his only way out is to lead a mission to discover the origin of that same powder. The characters are an interesting mix of English, Spanish, Arab, Hindu, and immortal, and the story kept me interested, although, as I say, to little end.

I've always liked Kara Dalkey, in part because she used to live in Lake City, CO, quite close to where I grew up, and one of her books (Crystal Sage) takes place in a very familiar setting. However, she does have trouble with endings. It's too bad, because she's a good writer, but I think it may be why Odious doesn't care for her books.

Suddenly I realize I have many things I want to share here... where to start? A few days ago I received a book in the mail from Mother Earth News; I'd been looking forward to its arrival, since I ordered it upon reading its review in the magazine, and had been greatly intrigued by the few pictures in the article. It's called Home Work, by Lloyd Kahn, and it surpassed my expectations like few other books have.

In preparation for building our house next summer, we've been reading a number of excellent books on the subject, but this one is by far the most inspiring. It's a collection of photos and notes about alternative-style houses around the world, and I'd be willing to move into almost any one of them. (Maybe not the driftwood shack.) Numerous ideas have been running through my head since finishing the book, and new possibilities have opened up, not to mention the welcome reaffirmation of certain plans. If you're at all interested in solar-powered homes, straw bale, log cabins, treehouses, yurts, or architecture in general, you'll love this book.

Another interesting read on the same topic was Richard Manning's A Good House. He's a reporter who decided to build a house after purchasing land in Montana, and made a little extra money off it by keeping a journal of the process. Though his pessimism and simple sentences (journalistic writing!) got a little wearing, as well as the lengthy description of the deed and mortgage problems, much of what he wrote was useful and interesting. I particularly liked his thoughts on passive solar and composting toilets (two features we also intend to implement), and the impact a house has on its environment.

This post is long enough, and I have other things to do, but next time I'll talk about the great movies I've been watching, and maybe post some cute kitty pictures now that I've figured out how to make that work.

Odious says I am not pastoral enough.

It's come to me in a dream--the seventh book in the series will be Harry Potter and the Chef's Knife, detailing the adventures of Ron and Harry as they discover the secrets of Saint Theresa of Avila, who ate nothing but mayonnaise. Yes, I really did dream that, and would probably prefer to read such an absurdity than whatever J.K. Rowling comes up with next. After the Half-Blood Prince, I have no reason to read any further. All interest in the characters has been lost for me--I'm still extremely upset. I read the sixth book the day after it came out, and am just now getting around to posting about it, yet still I feel betrayed and apathetic at the same time. This may be a spoiler; I'm sorry.

Our new apartment boasts a rectangular nicho in each bedroom, a feature we like but have been unable to properly utilize, as they seem to call for large urns or unusual flower arrangements. But finally the cats have discovered their true use--the perfect spot for hauissh. As I could not possibly explain this very odd game, I will direct you to Diane Duane's most excellent Book of Night With Moon, and, perhaps, post some pictures at a later date. Meanwhile, you can just imagine how cute they are.

I've just spent an embarrassingly long time laughing over the archives on Waiter Rant--no matter where you go, restaurants are all the same. It's pretty amazing to work in a place where you can see both the best and worst of people, though (sadly) usually the latter. I've realized that there are inumerable ways for people to display their ignorance and cluelessness--the stories are endless. I had a customer yesterday--or perhaps it was the day before(this whole summer has blended into one long yesterday for me)--who asked what kind of ice cream we have. Without showing my weariness too much, I recited, "Vanilla, strawberry, chocolate, and chocolate chip."

He looked confused. "So--the vanilla, strawberry, chocolate--is that all one?"

Ummm... if I'd meant Neopolitan, I would've said Neopolitan...

The really appalling thing was when I related the incident to another server, who said he'd had the same experience! How are people so incredibly dumb?

But the real hilarity yesterday came when the owner's son (who we think was deprived of oxygen at birth) strolled into the bar around 9. The restaurant was catering a wedding offsite last night, and someone had called him to pick up some more alcohol. Of course, he'd decided he didn't have to remember whether it was vodka or gin because that same person was also supposed to call the restaurant with the order. Fortunately the bartender was prepared, and handed over four bottles of Chopin vodka with alacrity. Oxygen-deprived Son stared down at them for a minute, then looked up at us and said, "Do you think I have time for a drink?"

Chronologically he is a grown man, as well as being the owner's son, and we mere minions can hardly tell him what to do. But I think our expressions made the general opinion fairly clear as we looked at him, looked at each other, and shrugged helplessly. The bartender murmured diplomatically, "Well, they probably need it as soon as possible."

"Oh, well, I'll just have a Dirty Goose--that'll be quick," said Son, sitting down.

More shared looks, more shrugs, and the bartender slid a glass down the bar to him. He took a sip, then said, "Anyway, if they'd wanted it quick, they wouldn't've asked me."

Funny because it's true...

The first time I tried to read How To Read A Book, I threw it across the room. In my defense, I was only sixteen, and Mortimer Adler can be that way sometimes. I am less sensitive to his pomposity now, and have decided that How To Read A Book should be a summer reading requirement for all tutors and students at St. John's. This is a particularly strong desire since we attended an alumni seminar in Seattle this weekend. It was led by Eva Brann, on Dostoevsky's short story "The Dream of a Ridiculous Man"--so far, so good. Those two elements were quite enjoyable. However, I was baffled by the attitudes of the other attendees. Being an alumni seminar, everyone there was 1), no longer attending SJC; 2), at the seminar voluntarily; and 3), unacquainted with anyone else (for the most part). These factors would cause me to assume that the discussion would be lively but mellow, with a united desire to understand the reading better and enjoy the insightful comments of our scholarly leader. How wrong I can be sometimes.

Actually, it was much like normal seminars at SJC, which made me realize that I DO NOT miss school. All the stereotypes were there, including the sunshine hippie who was disturbed by the negative connotations of the word "preacher", and the really-amazing-insight guy who was determined to convince us that the whole story was actually an allegory for the writing process. To be fair, there were several people who had quite intelligent things to say; however, I am already acquainted with most of them. (And for those of you who are wondering, no, I did not contribute to the conversation. I actually didn't plan to go at all, so was somewhat unprepared, but mostly I felt the way I did at SJC--I really didn't care what anyone else thought and had no desire to reveal my stunning insights to them. Or, in my sister-in-law's words, I didn't want to share with them, and didn't want them to share with me.)

St. John's is great in theory. And I really feel that Mortimer Adler could assist with the practice. One of the reasons I liked the book this time around was because I realized I do actually read the way he says one ought to (at least to some extent), and this is a rather unusual quality. Even at SJC people read to some purpose other than understanding, as if they want to "win" at seminar. We read the great books in order to understand ourselves better and, indeed, to seek the truth. Too many students (and tutors) allow themselves to be bound by fears and opinions and are unable to see truth in things they don't like. I take as example the Dostoevsky story. Ms. Brann several times brought up the question of religion, yet no one would consider the possibility of a true conversion experience, as if even thinking such a thing would somehow sully their liberal minds (though fortunately our dear Erin reminded everyone that this was, after all, 19th century Orthodox Russia). Now, there are plenty of books that expound ideas contradictory to my beliefs, yet I can still recognize some elements of truth in them. Also, I can accept an author's foundation in order to read his work, even if I don't agree with it in general. This doesn't seem difficult, but is apparently why Adler had to write his book.

Enough of annoying Johnnies. How To Read A Book is a book to which anyone interested in self-education should pay close attention. Even if you don't take the time to read it, consider these 4 questions the next time you read something of merit:
1. What is the book about as a whole?
2. What is the author saying in detail, and how?
3. Is it true?
4. What of it? (I.e., what do I make of it, and should I care?)

As well as being inspired to read better (and better books), I've decided to keep 4 kinds of books going at the same time, in order to keep my brain working and happy. Thus I am currently reading the following.
A work of poetry: Geography III, Elizabeth Bishop
A work of non-fiction: Pregnancy, Childbirth, and the Newborn, Penny Simkin
A work of literature: Sons and Lovers, D.H. Lawrence
A potato-chip book: Heir of Sea and Fire, Patricia McKillip

I'd like to break the non-fiction category in two or three, to delineate works of philosophy and religion, but that may be too adventurous at this point. For now, we'll see how the plan works.

25 reasons to homeschool. Not an exhaustive list by any means, but an amusing one!

Reading... in between work and company (after this summer I don't feel so lonely anymore!), which doesn't leave much time for blogging or anything else, really. I've been buying books and checking out enormous stacks from the library as if my life depended on it, and then realizing I just want to bury myself in fun fantasy and kid's lit--as usual. Mortimer Adler has been inspiring me, however, and I hope soon to get some better habits going.

Our new apartment is cozier and cooler, which is a blessing in this surprisingly hot Oregon summer, but since nothing on this earth can be perfect, we are surrounded by neighbors who smoke. YUCK! That stale scent wafting into my bedroom at night is nearly as disruptive as a boisterous party, but, unfortunately, much harder to complain about. I'm considering developing a severe allergy...

A quick recommendation for readers of all ages:

Butter on Both Sides and The Tie That Binds, by Lucille Watkins Ellison. Cherished favorites from my childhood, recently acquired from Amazon--sweet stories of life on a farm and old-fashioned family activities.

Elizabeth Hand's latest novel, Mortal Love, is probably the only book I've ever read where I had no idea what was going on until the last chapter. And even then it wasn't so clear. But it was fascinating enough that I persevered, and am still thinking about it several days later. It's about the Pre-Raphaelites, and the muse that gave them a glimpse into another world. Hand's style has not, unfortunately, improved with experience, and I got frustrated with being introduced to a new character and time period in every chapter, but the conclusion is lovely. I'd certainly recommend it, with the warning that all of her books are extremely weird; if you're interested in the Pre-Raphaelites you'll find it particularly interesting.

According to my sister, I am among the 7% of women not suffering from an eating disorder. Of course, as Odious pointed out, one can hardly call it a disorder at that percentage; rather, it's simply female behavior (I wonder if it's a recent development?). Anyway, I can honestly say that I am not obsessed with my weight, eating habits, or physical image. I'm interested in nutrition (Superfoods!), and like to be healthy, but I absolutely REFUSE to count Weight Watcher points or learn how many calories in an olive. There are much more interesting things to do in life.

For instance--reading! I just finished Ursula K. LeGuin's A Wizard of Earthsea, which I'd read a long time ago and been bored by, and this time around I liked it quite a bit more. It made me realize that I probably should revisit some books I read in high school; since my reading horizons have expanded, I'd probably appreciate things I didn't then. Actually, I'm surprised I didn't care for LeGuin, since her style reminds me a bit of Tolkien with its sort of legendary omniscience. Maybe it was the lack of action that bored me--this first one at least is less a story than a character development, so I'm interested to read the next two, or three, or four, or however many it ended up being after it wasn't a trilogy.

I also just read Madeleine L'Engle's An Acceptable Time, another one I'm sure I read as a teenager (some of it is vaguely familiar). The problem I've always had with her books is keeping the chronology and relationships straight; they're so interconnected that it's difficult to read any out of sequence. I can't figure out if the Murrys and Austins know each other or not, which makes things even more confusing. Anyway, this one is about Polly, who is Calvin and Meg's daughter, visiting her grandparents, who are among my favorite characters ever (I love that they cook over a Bunsen burner!) even though I rarely understand what they're talking about. What I find interesting but somewhat frustrating about L'Engle's books is that they always seem to be building up to some future climax--there are always great portents, and each book concerns a small but vital occurence. Maybe that's her philosophy--that everything that happens is for a reason, and even if you don't understand it, good must triumph so that the world can continue. Hmm. Anyway...

I drank too much alcohol last night, got too little sleep, drank too much coffee at work, am working a double today, and haven't eaten anything since breakfast. What better conditions under which to post? Anyway, I've been catching up on blogs, and for the first time in a while felt like writing something here.

I'd been wanting to read Wives and Daughters for a while, since I like Elizabeth Gaskell despite North and South, but after a friend told me that the BBC adaptation was the cult movie at her school (preferred over "Pride and Prejudice"!), I knew I had to read the book (as well as see the film, if I can find it). I was surprised at how long it took me to get into the novel; for at least the first ten chapters I had to convince myself to keep going in hopes of it getting better. Fortunately it did, and I was fascinated to observe an incredible writing skill unfold before me. Many books include characters that at first seem pleasant and then turn nasty, but my opinions of nearly all the characters in this book changed over the course of reading it. One in particular I found effective because of her resemblance to someone of my acquaintance--she was at first presented as a sweet, kind, gentle governess, whose position in life caused her to be much pitied and sympathized with; clearly, a character that the reader is intended to like. As the novel progressed and her situation began to change, she was slowly revealed to be shockingly self-centered and manipulative--and it came convincingly out of her previous behavior. The heroine went through an opposite transformation, from a rather dull and mealy-mouthed child to a woman who knew herself and stood up for her beliefs despite being constantly beleaguered by those around her.

The plot of this novel was fairly simple and predictable, but that's not why one reads Mrs Gaskell. (If you want plot twists, read Minette Walters!) Like all her novels, this one can be summarized as the development of a girl into a woman, and a look at quiet village life. Molly Gibson is not a great heroine, but she is an interesting one, and the way she deals with the difficult people in her life is admirable.

I apologize to anyone who's been checking my blog lately. I have had barely enough time to check my email, and am not feeling at all inspired to write. I'll post again later on, but for the moment I'm going to withdraw from the blogosphere. TTFN!

See also where it began and other takes on the meme.

I found this meme at Semicolon, and had to spend some time thinking about it before attempting my own. It came out rather suddenly this morning after my shower, and though there's much more I could have said, this is what fell onto the page. Tomorrow I might write a different one.

Where I Am From...

I am from bright hard winter mornings, sun glittering off the snow, thermometer stuck at fifteen below; bundled in snowpants and boots to feed the horse snorting in great white billows, and the poultry eager for fresh hot water to bathe their chilly toes.

I am from wood floors, wood stoves, and red geraniums on sunny afternoons.

I am from homemade bread, handsewn jumpers, and a house open to all.

I am from music, everywhere, several kinds at once: piano, violin, recorder, Bach upstairs and Amy Grant downstairs.

I am from skiing and softball and the patientest teacher; I am from tea parties, doll houses, mud pies, and a long, long childhood.

I am from potlucks and Bible verses and families; I am from drama so deep it consumes.

I am from stacks of library books, and reading till senseless.

I am from Aristotle, Jane Austen, Kierkegaard, and C.S. Lewis; I am from thinking and talking and laughing myself silly.

I am from wonder and worth and warmth; I am from abundance.

My life of leisure is over, thank heaven. I've acquired a second job as a server at the Sweet Oregon Grill, where I hope to work as much as possible and make vats of money. This is unlikely, but we can still hope.

I recently read both Delia Sherman's novels, which I have mixed feelings about. The Porcelain Dove was, I think, the better book, but didn't hold my interest as well and collapsed a bit at the end. As for the other--though I knew Sherman and Ellen Kushner were an item, I didn't realize until I started reading Through a Brazen Mirror that it was considered "queer fiction" (how irritated I am to lose that most excellent word!). Hrmph. My main comment is that if you can't even make homosexuality normal in a fantasy setting (it's YOUR OWN WORLD--you can do whatever you want with it!), I'm not going to be very convinced that it's normal in the real world.

I had other things to talk about, but my brain is too scattered. So I leave you with this highly unsatisfactory post.

I'll have to remember this. It reminds me a lot of the descriptions of birth in Spiritual Midwifery, though without the psychedelic grooviness.

My mind is a whirlpool of thoughts today, brought on a number of things. Every time I visit my mother's new house, I want to stay there out in the country, away from the craziness of this life. And things are really crazy right now, with finances, plans for the future, a new job, etc... But I'm also continuing to chew over the ideas in Beyond the Shadowlands--what a great book. I'll have to jot down the dialogue going through my head as I read, and if it's sharable I'll post it. My brain is getting some much-needed exercise, plus I'm inspired to re-read all of C.S. Lewis' books. Hard to ask for much more from a book!

A few lines from Wendell Berry:

I go among trees and sit still.
All my stirring becomes quiet
around me like circles on water.
My tasks lie in their places
where I left them, asleep like cattle.

from A Timbered Choir

I've given up on Seeds of Deception. I was going to be diligent and at least skim through the rest of the book, but I just couldn't. Rob Waller, Mind and Media's Reviewer of the Week, was kinder than I was, but still said about the same things. It's just not very good! However, I've started on my next book, and it is excellent. Of course, it's hard not to be excellent when you're talking about C.S. Lewis, but I'm sure there are those who could manage it.

Wayne Martindale is a scholar who's spent years studying and teaching on Lewis, and has written a lucid, intelligent book called Beyond the Shadowlands, about Lewis's views of heaven and hell. This is something not talked about much, since no one can claim to have true knowledge of the subject, but as I read this book I'm realizing how important it is for Christians to know. There are so many people who have no concept of heaven and hell, picturing the former as eternity spent sitting on clouds and strumming harps, and the latter a fiery pit with pitch-forked demons. Frankly, neither image is particularly appealling or particularly distressing. We need to look forward to heaven with yearning and cringe from the thought of hell, and we need to be able to inform non-Christians about these things as well. Lewis had amazing insights about the after-life, often using mythology to illustrate his point, and Martindale does an excellent job of gathering the information into one place and elucidating on it. I know I need to hurry up and finish it so I can get on to the next book, but I want to savor every word and give myself time to think about the ideas. There've been precious few books on my nightstand lately that have given me food for thought, and this is a welcome change. Highly recommended.