The Test

Which is really better, the Big Mac or the Whopper? After a lifetime of watching fast-food commercials, I had to know. I couldn’t remember ever having tried either of them, which struck me as unusual, so Faithful Reader and I set out to sample them and judge for ourselves which was the better burger. While we were at it, we decided to do a proper test of the whole Fast-Food Trinity by including fries and a Wendy’s burger, too. Here’s how they rated. Continue reading

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Birthday Boy

Happy Birthday to you!
Happy Birthday to you!
Happy Birthday, Ben Franklin!
Happy Birthday to you!

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An Affair to Remember

And now, to balance the less-than-cheery insights from the last post, I present to you the other book that I read recently.

Thursday Next: First Among Sequels by Jasper Fforde

Grade: A

My love affair with The Eyre Affair has been going on for several years, ever since K— gifted me with a copy. I have never loved the sequels nearly as much, but the author’s inventiveness keeps bringing me back. If only he didn’t go into such detail about the inner workings of Bookworld, the place where he imagines all of Fiction’s characters “live” and act out the events of their respective stories. I don’t understand Bookworld, nor do I want to.

When Thursday Next took the inevitable plunge back into Bookworld in this, the fourth sequel, I thought, “Please, not again!” I persisted, however, and was rewarded for my patience. Thursday Next: First Among Sequels is fun, full of surprises, and has a sweet message that will resound with book-lovers. Of course, the story won’t make any sense if you haven’t read the other books in the series, but it’s no great hardship to read them. Trust me. I wish I could read them again during the Great Library Purge, but I know that they’ll pass the test, so I already went ahead and granted them permanent places on my bookshelf.

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Q&A With Vonnegut

Deadeye Dick by Kurt Vonnegut

Grade: B

Of Deadeye Dick I have not much to say. The final scene took place in a cemetery and one of the characters raised a ghost. For me, the real ghost was Kurt Vonnegut, who came to answer my question from a few weeks ago.

I asked, “Are we still living in the Dark Ages?”

Vonnegut replied, “You want to know something? We are still in the Dark Ages. The Dark Ages—they haven’t ended yet.”

Perhaps the Dark Ages never end and each new generation just trades one form of darkness for another.

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On One Uncertain Term

I love words, especially dangerous, tricksy words that squiggle and squirm, always struggling to impart unintended meanings. I found such a word today.

The witness is incredible!

It was a sentence similar to the one above that made me realize just how incredibly dangerous “incredible” can be. My first instinct was to interpret it as a compliment, because it is often used to mean “unexpectedly good,” but that didn’t jibe with the rest of the paragraph. I took the word apart and discovered another meaning hidden in its pieces: the prefix “in-” and the main part “credible” which together mean “not believable.” In this case, the word “incredible” was intended as a criticism, a polite way of saying “Liar!”

Incredible: Sometimes positive, sometimes negative, never to be taken for granted. A delightfully duplicitous word!

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Writing Challenge #1

The Bucket of Bad has produced the first writing challenge. Here are the elements to include.

  • Little devil on one shoulder, little angel on the other.
  • Falling out a window.
  • Three young girls.
  • Interesting use of magic (or some kind of nonmagical trick) by a housewife.

The goal is to write at least 1,000 words by midnight on Sunday, January 20.

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And How Old Are You?

Faithful Reader kidded me the other day about my propensity for reading children’s books. He said, “And how old are you?” I don’t think he meant it too seriously, but he did have a point. I had been reading an excess of them. Children’s books are quick and easy, and I have many, making them perfect targets in the Great Library Purge. That’s why I had been reading them in that quantity, but it doesn’t answer the question of why I own so many of them.

When I start to feel overwhelmed by negativity, I try to read books that are light and fun, and children’s literature is a good source for those books. The world is dark enough without focusing on the negative, which is exactly what so many books for grown-ups do. Children’s books avoid the truly horrific problems, and when they tackle a tough issue, they do it in more easily digestible pieces. They are a buffer against the dark. They recharge my emotional batteries.

My batteries are supercharged now and I feel up to the challenge of reading just about anything. It’s a good thing, because after The Magus come Vonnegut’s Deadeye Dick and Austen’s Persuasion (one of the 10 classics I plan to read for 2008).

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A Book’s Last Chance

I own a book called The Magus by John Fowles. It came into my hands in an unusual way. The library was giving away a sad-looking collection of books that hadn’t sold at the last book sale. I don’t know what possessed me to pick up this large, jacketless, water-stained book that I had never heard of and that no one else wanted. Maybe the word “free” worked some magic on me and made me bring the book home.

Since then, I have attempted to read it a couple of times. I always love it in the beginning, but there is a spot where the mystery becomes more irritating than interesting. It is there that I put the book down, thinking that I’ll just take a few days off, and forget to pick it up again for months. I would have thrown it away long ago, but The Magus appears often on reading lists, and I wonder what great things might lie beyond the point that I can’t seem to pass.

Now, in the middle of the Great Library Purge, the The Magus has one final chance to prove itself. I started reading it again a few days ago. I hit the Irritation Point last night at page 224. With close to 400 pages remaining, it would be a good time to cut and run, but I have decided to read another 100 pages. If I’m not having fun by page 324, then the book goes to the Chopping Block, end of story, and no one will be able to say that I didn’t give it a fair chance.

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Whole Lotta Bad

I enjoyed the writing exercise of the other day. It felt good to write bad and, to my amazement, a story started to emerge from the bad writing. I already knew there was power in allowing oneself to write poorly, but I found that there may be even greater power in doing it on purpose. So, in keeping with the “Just do something!” philosophy, I am working on the Bucket of Bad, a container of random story elements that can be combined as a writing exercise. Once it’s finished, I’ll decide on the rules of the game and post the first exercise so that you can play along if you want to.

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Bed News

The Cloud is gone. In its place, the Dais.

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