Who You Calling Fussy?

What a lovely weekend! On Saturday, I did almost nothing, which was quite nice. On Sunday, we went to Providence and had some yummy falafel wrap and hummus.

It still amazes me that I eat such things. When I was a child, my parents frequently accused me of being a fussy eater and I believed them. It took me years to figure out that my so-called fussiness was simply a natural aversion to overcooked spinach and other similarly unappealing foods which no one should ever be asked to eat. Now I freak my parents out with tales of meals they’ve never dreamed of trying.

So the next time you don’t see my parents at the falafel stand, ask them who’s the fussy eater now! ๐Ÿ™‚

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Not Forgotten

I didn’t forget about the Vonnegut Marathon. Not at all. I finished Mother Night on Thursday, but I was too busy on Friday to blog about it. It’s not the kind of book that you read, breezily comment on, and then forget.

Grade: A

I’ll be honest and say that I didn’t enjoy this as much as The Sirens of Titan, which is why it got an A rather than an A+. Where Sirens was like a long, amazing acid trip with an ultimate purpose, Mother Night was like the short, sober day after. Don’t get me wrong. I liked it, but it’s a book in which the Nazis figure largely, making it very dark and more reality-based than I sometimes care for, escapist reader than I am.

Mother Night was completely different from all of the other Vonnegut books that I’ve ever read, and I can’t tell you how happy I am to find that he has another side. Some authors just get into a mode and then write all of their books the same way. This is possibly his most universally likable work because it doesn’t fall into the sci-fi genre, a genre which I happen to enjoy but which does not seem to have mass appeal.

My one complaint with the book is that every once in a while the main character’s words do not ring true. They sound not like his opinions, but the opinions of the author, forced upon the character in order to get them into the book.

Overall it’s a good read. There are some great passages and I hope to share some of them later. For now, I want to think some more about the moral of the story, as stated by the author in the introduction: We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be.

Have you ever thought about that? Are there ways in which you purposefully misrepresent yourself to the world? And if you pretend well enough and consistently fool everyone, then does that facade become the real you?

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Rediscovery

So what am I going to do with this yawn-inspiring book, Rediscovery? It’s part of the popular Darkover series by Marion Zimmer Bradley. Darkover is a fictional world in which the inhabitants have extremely powerful forms of psionic ability, such as telepathy and precognition. Bradley dug deep into the subject matter, creating an interesting set of physical and sociological problems to go along with the psi gifts. The series didn’t get popular by accident. Some of the books are truly fascinating.

When I saw this novel at the library book sale, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to “rediscover” Darkover myself. I loved the series as a teenager and I’ve been thinking about rereading it from beginning to end, either in the order of publication or chronologically according to the history of Darkover. Too bad I didn’t notice the co-author’s name on the cover. Co-authored books almost always stink and Mercedes Lackey’s work has never impressed me. I’m not sure I would have bought it had I seen her name.

Now that I own the book, I guess I might as well see where the story goes, but I’m tempted to shelve it in anticipation of reading the entire series later. That way I won’t have to read this book twice. Yeah, that’s what I’m going to do.

See you later, Rediscovery.

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Yawn

I really hate it when characters in books fall asleep and dream. The dream sequences are almost always boring and unnecessary, just the author weakly rehashing the character’s feelings and experiences as a segue to the next action scene. What’s even worse is when a secondary character falls asleep just because the author doesn’t seem to know what to do with her in the scene. This actually happened in the book I started reading last night, Rediscovery: A Novel of Darkover by Marion Zimmer Bradley and Mercedes Lackey. It damn near put me to sleep, too.

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Bringer of Rain

I took a long stroll along the shore this afternoon. The sand was soft under my feet. The ocean was so calm and clear that I could see a crab skittering around several feet under water. The sky was a thousand shades of blue and trimmed all over with clouds of every shape and variety. It began to rain, and as I walked the length of the beach, the rain followed me, keeping pace, always falling on my back but not in front of me, as if I were the Bringer of Rain.

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Script Scrapped

I think I have to give up on the idea of Script Frenzy this year. With 0 words written and less than two weeks left, it seems like a lost cause. That’s OK. I thought about doing NaNoWriMo in 2005 but gave up after trying one day of writing. Then in 2006, I really committed myself to it and won. Maybe it will be the same way for Script Frenzy.

Better luck next year, eh?

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Emphatically Unstressed

I try not to think about my health too often (obsession with one’s state of health is a sure sign of age). But sometimes in the interest of living longer, you have to take a look at what you’ve done, what you’re doing, and what’s going to happen if you keep on doing it. If I had to make a bet, I’d guess that stress will get me in the end. I can feel it coiling in my stomach and chest, like a taut rubber band.

I really have nothing to be afraid of, nothing to worry about, nothing over which to lose a moment’s sleep, and I don’t want to die because I was too stupid to resign my self-appointed position as General Manager of the Universe.

The Universe is going to have to run itself from now on. I quit.

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Wearied

Have you heard of the woman inspired
To make rhymes even though she was tired?
But the words wouldn’t fit,
So she threatened to quit,
And her muse said, “You can’t quit. You’re fired!”

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There and Back Again

The road goes ever on and on. So does traffic. It took almost four hours to get to CT on Sunday. The trip back today was a breeze, though, and for fun I stopped at the big library book sale in Westerly. I know I don’t need any books, but I bought some anyway, my reward for working so hard over the last couple of days.

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Book Marks

I just started reading Mother Night. One of the first things I noticed is that a previous reader (or readers) marked some of the pages.

I used to think that marking books was strictly taboo. Then I went to college. There I succumbed to the peer pressure to buy highlighters. I mean, you have to highlight your textbooks, right? How else can you prove that you read them? ๐Ÿ˜‰ So I highlighted anything that I thought was important, which was almost everything, and ruined several books that way. It was embarrassing so I gave up the habit. These days, I rarely mark books because I know that my markings could potentially ruin a book and at the same time reveal something of my thought processes (or lack thereof).

Now, if you feel comfortable marking your own books, I say go for it. But please don’t mark library books. Don’t mar the pages for your own satisfaction at the expense of mine. That is, unless you find a gem, something upon which the majority of future readers will want to stop and ruminate. That I can forgive.

So, Previous Reader, I forgive you for underlining a line from the introduction:

We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be.

As for the rest of your markings, all I can say is, what were you thinking?

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