As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame;
As tumbled over rim in roundy wells
Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell’s
Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;
Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:
Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;
Selves — goes itself; myself it speaks and spells,
Crying, What I do is me: for that I came.

I say more: the just man justices;
Keeps grace: that keeps all his goings graces;
Acts in God’s eye what in God’s eye he is —
Christ. For Christ plays in ten thousand places,
Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his
To the Father through the features of men’s faces.

- Gerard Manley Hopkins

http://www.flickr.com/photos/jvverde/ / CC BY-NC 2.0

According to Wikipedia:

“Gerard Manley Hopkins, S.J. (28 July 1844 – 8 June 1889) was an English poet, Roman Catholic convert, and Jesuit priest, whose posthumous 20th-century fame established him among the leading Victorian poets. His experimental explorations in prosody (especially sprung rhythm) and his use of imagery established him as a daring innovator in a period of largely traditional verse.”

This post is a response to Weekly Geeks 13-2010.

“There seems to be a bit of a theme going around the bookish blogopshere this past little while. Have you noticed many posts and lists and ponderings about books from our past? To go along with this trend, for this Weekly Geek installment, I’m asking you to think back to the moment when you realized “I am a reader!” The moment you felt that desire to read everything! The moment you knew you were different than most of those around you and that this reading thing was for real.”

I can’t point to a specific moment or book that made me realize I was a reader. I started out as a reader when I was four, and I can still remember many of the books I read as a child. Thinking of them brings back the sense of excitement and wonder I felt back then. My first real fantasy book was a chapbook illustrated with those odd ’70s-style Art Nouveau drawings so popular at the time, a retelling of the Welsh legend of Elidor, called Elidor and the Golden Ball, by Georgess McHargue. Though I forgot the title and author, I always remembered the lady dressed in green with apple-blossoms in her hair, the golden ball Elidor chased, and the snake that curled mysteriously in some of the pictures. Those images would sometimes resurface in my consciousness like a fish barely visible in a deep pool. Looking back, I see that book was my first experience of elves.

(By searching Loganberry Books’ Solved Mysteries, I was able to find a copy of this book a few years ago, and now it’s back in my collection. This is probably the only children’s book I will never let go.)

As a teenager I found less time for reading, but my interest in books was rekindled somewhat by the discovery of romance novels. I read mostly Jude Deveraux, Julie Garwood and Lavyrle Spencer, and I still appreciate those books. But eventually, I knew something was missing from my reading that I needed. I think it was magic, and a sense of something deeper, something beyond the the edge of this world . . .

I rediscovered fantasy literature as an adult, with Patricia A. McKillip. I’d always thought fantasy books for grown-ups looked a bit weird, with glowing muscley dudes on the covers with sword in hand, dragons holding crystal balls, that sort of thing. But I loved The Lord of the Rings, C.S. Lewis, and I loved the idea of fantasy. I just needed to discover the right author, and thankfully, I did. I think maybe this is why I always push McKillip on people and why she had such an influence on me; she was the first adult fantasy author I read seriously, and she helped me to see that everything I loved about it as a child was still there. I read somewhere—I wish I could remember where—that there are books you read in which you identify with the characters, and books you read and identify with the author; I think Winter Rose was the first book I felt that way about, and so in a very real way, Patricia McKillip gave me the first clue that I wanted to write. She writes books I want to read, and I want to read more of them. But just a little more like this, or more like that . . . you know?

But . . . as I learned to write, one thing I realized about myself is that although I’d always considered myself a reader, I really didn’t read that much. Life constantly got in the way, and if I was lucky and got to bed before 4 AM (long story I don’t want to go into), I might get to read for five minutes before falling asleep. Reading was not a priority. “I want to read more,” I said. “I want to read that book. I want to try that author. I just don’t have time.”

I think it’s only recently that I’ve decided I will be a reader. I’m not a particularly slow reader (which I used to think was the case), but I still find it hard to make time for reading. I’m easily distracted by the outdoors, and interruptions are many. My current goal is to read at least an hour a day, not at bedtime (bedtime reading energizes me and wakes me up, and if it doesn’t, then I can’t remember what I read the next day). I’m actively working towards a goal of at least a book a week (I know for some people that’s nothing, but for me it’s huge), I’m trying to discover new authors in my genre, and I’m trying to read some of the “Great Books” I missed out on as a wayward, free-spirited youth, hehe.

Now when the more “responsible” side of me says, “I don’t have time to read, it’s a luxury, it’s lazy,” I try to remember what Stephen King said in his book On Writing: “If you don’t have time to read, you don’t have the time (or the tools) to write. Simple as that.”

“Commenting. It can be a fun way to connect to your readers. It can be the a source of frustration as a blogger. A comment can make your day. A comment can cause an argument. Today let’s talk commenting.”

Comments. Some people have them, and some of us wish we had them. I get a few comments, and I always appreciate them. On a new blog like this one, every comment by a visitor encourages me to keep writing.

I don’t reply to every comment; I like to spend to commenting on other bloggers’ posts—a habit I’m working hard to cultivate. But any time I can think of a response to a comment here, I’ll reply. Just because I don’t reply doesn’t mean I’m not reading, and I smile every time a get a comment.

Unless it’s spam.

Speaking of spam, I started out using comment moderation, moderating first-time commenters, but I always feel like it makes a new user (especially one not so internet savvy, or one who has to work up a lot of courage to comment) feel alienated. In the end, I decided to use ReCAPTCHA instead, so visitors who are actually human can see their comments posted right away. ReCAPTCHA is not ideal, since it’s owned by Google (isn’t everything?), but I’ve yet to find a better captcha for my purposes.

So far, the only comments I’ve deleted are spam. I don’t have set rules for what I’ll allow or not allow in the future, whenever I (inevitably) post an article that turns someone into a flaming, typing ball of rage. The plan for now is to allow comments I disagree with, so long as the commenter is polite; downright ugliness will not be tolerated. To use a canned phrase, my blog is not a democracy (considering my political views, that idea is kinda funny), and I feel comfortable deleting if necessary, but I don’t mind being politely disagreed with. Also, comments that seek merely to enrage (i.e. comments from trolls) will be deleted without mercy.

Just so I don’t end this on a negative note, so far all commenters have been wonderful, and all comments have helped to cheer me up and keep me posting! My blog is still fairly new, but I hope it will be not only a place for me to post my thoughts on what I’m reading and writing, but a place for interesting discussion.

Marcia at The Printed Page hosts Cover Attraction, a weekly occasion to post an eye-catching cover. The covers I post may be from books I own, something I’ve recently wishlisted, or just a cool cover I really think everybody should see. Sometimes I may have something to say about the artwork itself, but I’m not an art major or anything so please keep that in mind; I’m just trying my best to get the idea across.

Perchance to Dream by Lisa Mantchev.

From the critically acclaimed author of Eyes Like Stars

We are such stuff as dreams are made on.

Act Two, Scene One

Growing up in the enchanted Thèâtre Illuminata, Beatrice Shakespeare Smith learned everything about every play ever written. She knew the Players and their parts, but she didn’t know that she, too, had magic. Now, she is the Mistress of Revels, the Teller of Tales, and determined to follow her stars. She is ready for the outside world.

Enter BERTIE AND COMPANY

But the outside world soon proves more topsy-turvy than any stage production. Bertie can make things happen by writing them, but outside the protective walls of the Thèâtre, nothing goes as planned. And her magic cannot help her make a decision between—

Nate: Her suave and swashbuckling pirate, now in mortal peril.

Ariel: A brooding, yet seductive, air spirit whose true motives remain unclear.

When Nate is kidnapped and taken prisoner by the Sea Goddess, only Bertie can free him. She and her fairy sidekicks embark on a journey aboard the Thèâtre’s caravan, using Bertie’s word magic to guide them. Along the way, they collect a sneak-thief, who has in his possession something most valuable, and meet The Mysterious Stranger, Bertie’s father—and the creator of the scrimshaw medallion. Bertie’s dreams are haunted by Nate, whose love for Bertie is keeping him alive, but in the daytime, it’s Ariel who is tantalizingly close, and the one she is falling for. Who does Bertie love the most? And will her magic be powerful enough to save her once she enters the Sea Goddess’s lair?

Once again, LISA MANTCHEV has spun a tale like no other—full of romance, magic, adventure, and fairies, too—that readers won’t want to put down, even after the curtain has closed.

Though I usually find the faerie-land of Shakespeare and Spenser unappealing, many books are written in related settings, and sometimes I just find them impossible to resist. I put off reading Eyes Like Stars in spite of its beautiful cover, but I don’t think I can turn the series down anymore after seeing this one (besides, I keep hearing good things about Eyes Like Stars). You can see more of Jason Chan’s artwork at his blog.

Marcia at The Printed Page hosts Cover Attraction, a weekly occasion to post an eye-catching cover. The covers I post may be from books I own, something I’ve recently wishlisted, or just a cool cover I really think everybody should see. Sometimes I may have something to say about the artwork itself, but I’m not an art major or anything so please keep that in mind; I’m just trying my best to get the idea across.

The Night Fairy by Laura Amy Schlitz and Angela Barrett.

From 2008 Newbery Medalist Laura Amy Schlitz comes an exhilarating new adventure — and a thoroughly original fairy who is a true force of nature.

What would happen to a fairy if she lost her wings and could no longer fly? Flory, a young night fairy no taller than an acorn and still becoming accustomed to her wings — wings as beautiful as those of a luna moth — is about to find out. What she discovers is that the world is very big and very dangerous. But Flory is fierce and willing to do whatever it takes to survive. If that means telling others what to do — like Skuggle, a squirrel ruled by his stomach — so be it. Not every creature, however, is as willing
to bend to Flory’s demands. Newbery Medal winner Laura Amy Schlitz and world-renowned illustrator and miniaturist Angela Barrett venture into the realm of the illustrated classic — a classic entirely and exquisitely of their making, and a magnificent adventure.

I’m charmed by the tininess of the heroine, the richness of the night, the scale (the leaves and the hummingbird are both bigger than the protagonist). Just beautiful! I’d love to look inside this book and see the rest of the illustrations.

Where Everything Ends by Ray Bradbury.

In 1949, a struggling writer–a man very much like the young Ray Bradbury–boards a late night trolley in Venice, California and hears a disembodied voice murmur the words: ‘Death is a lonely business.’ Shortly afterward, that same young man discovers a body trapped in a cage beneath the waters of the local canal. Convinced of a connection between these events, the narrator/hero–together with a wonderfully characterized detective named Elmo Crumley (named in a nod to noted mystery novelist James Crumley) begins to investigate a series of suspicious deaths among the disenfranchised population of Venice.

Death is a Lonely Business was Ray Bradbury’s first book-length foray into classical detective fiction. Two others followed: A Graveyard for Lunatics, in which Crumley and our hero (now a gainfully employed scriptwriter) join forces with special effects wizard Ray Harryhausen, and Let’s All Kill Constance, a tale of mystery and suspense set against the faded backdrop of Hollywood’s Golden Age. All three, together with Where Everything Ends, the never-before-published title story that preceded and inspired them, are now gathered together in a single generous volume that should prove indispensable to Bradbury’s large and loyal readership.

Freely acknowledging the influence of the genre’s masters (Hammett, Chandler, MacDonald, and Cain), all of these stories successfully transcend those influences, filtering them through their author’s wholly unique sensibility. The result is a powerfully nostalgic evocation of time and place, and an unforgettable portrait of a writer in love with language, with movies, and with the transformative power of stories themselves.

Another wonderful cover from Subterranean Press. I’m completely fascinated by Jon Foster’s illustration, and the stories sound intriguing; I’m adding this to my wishlist.

Which gives me an opportunity to pimp my absolute favorite author, Patricia A. McKillip. Yes, I will keep on singing her praises, because she is a genius. Multiple-award winning fantasy author Patricia A. McKillip:

1. Was born on on Leap Year, February 29th, 1948.
2. Has won prestigious awards, including the World Fantasy Award for Life Achievement.
3. She lives in Oregon.
4. For awhile she thought she’d be a concert pianist, and she still plays the piano for pleasure.
5. She started writing at age 14—”In a fit of boredom one day when she was fourteen, she sat down in front of a window overlooking a stately medieval church and its graveyard and produced a thirty-page fairy tale.”
6. When she received the 1975 World Fantasy Award (which looks like the head of H.P. Lovecraft), her reaction was, “What the #@*!!$ is this?”
7. She enjoys and is knowledgeable about cooking.

(The above trivia was all uncovered at this Patricia A. McKillip fan page.)

Some of my favorite McKillip covers:

Hespira: A Tale of Henghis Hapthorn by Matthew Hughes.

As magic begins to reassert its ancient dominion, Old Earth’s foremost freelance discriminator, Henghis Hapthorn, and his intuition (now a separate person named Osk Rievor), are living apart, though they remain on good terms. But now there comes between them a woman of alluring mystery. Who is Hespira? Does she truly want either of them? Or has she come to destroy them both?

I love Tom Kidd’s artwork. His delicate yet ornate work compells the viewer to explore the image, to look a little closer, and sets an otherworldly tone. His palette and his approach give a sense of fragility and organic structure that surprises considering the subject matter (wizards, spaceships, etc.) It’s appropriate that he does the covers for the Henghis Hapthorn books, since he also does all the covers for Jack Vance-related titles for Subterranean Press, and I hear that the Henghis Hapthorn setting is Dying Earth-inspired. So the art forges another connection between the two nicely.

Henghis Hapthorn the character is called “Holmesian” by Publishers Weekly, and I’m intrigued by the setting, so I may give the series a look, even though I tend to avoid what you might call fantasy detective fiction.

EDIT: The author informs me in a comment:

“I thought you might like to know: the cover of Hespira is actually the right hand third of one long oil painting, the other two thirds comprising the covers of the first two books in the series, Majestrum and The Spiral Labyrinth. The painting won Tom Kidd an award at the World Fantasy Convention in 2007, where I saw it. It was subsequently purchased by a fan of mine.”

The first three chapters are available to read for free on his website, so be sure to check them out.

Purchase Hespira.
Purchase Majestrum, the first Tale of Henghis Hapthorn.

As “extra credit” why not share some photos of what the weather looks like outside your home…or where you curl up to read when ‘the weather outside is frightening.’”

My hometown spends Winter under endless white waves of crystalline snowdrifts, beneath a sky that changes day by day from storm clouds to bright cerulean. Not long ago I moved a short way out of town, but an invisible rift between here and there creates entirely different weather; my Winters now are full of hurricane-force winds and rainstorms, and sometimes what we call “cute snow”, the kind that gathers its few inches on the ground overnight and melts off in a couple of days. In a way, the weather here in the desert seems drearier than the layers of sparkling snow and ice, and the nights are certainly colder. Snow and overcast skies make a blanket that will keep a little town warm; out here in the desert we’re exposed naked to the cruel Winter chill.

The lake last week, when the water came back after a good snow.

In otherwords, even in a high desert, Winter calls for a different sort of book than other seasons, books that draw you in deep and give a full-on sensory experience of another world. Maybe it’s because the pace of Winter is slower, and gives us more time to get lost in our reading, or maybe the cold weather makes the richness of things like hot chocolate, pumpkin bisque, and Victorian novels splendid instead of suffocating, but for some reason, for me anyway, books get denser and thicker in the Winter. Here are my suggestions for Winter reading, wherever you live:

Riddle-Master: The Complete Trilogy by Patricia A. McKillip.
I’m in the middle of this right now, and I think it’s a wonderful Winter read. Old magic, enchanted harps, conversations by fire, wanderings in the wilderness and magical creatures . . . This trilogy employs all the fantasy tropes, but is so lyrical and lovely that it doesn’t even need to turn them on their heads. If you want to read something like Lord of the Rings during Winter but maybe don’t feel like reading it for the nth time, Riddle-Master is the perfect choice.

Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clarke is a great Winter book, for sure; in fact I’m not even sure it should be read at any other time. This alternate history stays true to its Regency novel heritage while inventing an entire history of magic for England. It’s long and divided into three parts, so you can stretch it out all Winter and read other books in between.

Poetry is especially welcome in the Winter; you can read as much or as little as you like, and each poem can give you a multitude of sensory experience in a small dose. The Selected Poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke, translated from the German by Stephen Mitchell, is a book I love to pick up on a whim and just page through slowly.

Surprised By Joy by C.S. Lewis is an autobiography that takes you through Lewis’s journey from skepticism to belief in God. This is my favorite book of his; even though his range of experience couldn’t be more different from mine, he gives voice and purpose to the awe I’ve felt while looking up at a cold, white mountain or dreaming of Norse gods.

Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. A book about eating local foods in season, living sustainably by growing your own food, and the preservation of our food culture through heirloom seeds and heritage meats. This is a perspective-altering book that would be good to read in Winter because it carries you full circle through all the seasons.

I read Walking on Water by Madeleine L’Engle on the North Coast in a cabin surrounded by thick ocean fog, and I think anything good to read on the coast is just as good to read in Winter. L’Engle explores creativity as it relates to the Christian faith, challenging the artist to be authentic as they integrate their living faith and art.

Marcia at The Printed Page hosts Cover Attraction, a weekly occasion to post an eye-catching cover. Here is mine, The Complete Sherlock Holmes Barnes & Noble Leatherbound Classics Edition:

The Complete Sherlock Holmes Barnes & Noble Leatherbound Edition

This slightly fuzzy images shows the back, decorated with the plaque for 221b Baker Street, and other Sherlockian and Victorian objects, including a penny-farthing. The spine is decorated with the Hound of the Baskervilles.

The front and end-papers are decorated with tartan paper, and I fairly swooned when I saw it; it’s masculine and British and very appropriate. The page-edges are gilt and there’s a ribbon bookmark.

The book lacks illustrations and other distractions like spoilery annotations, so it’s perfect for my first read-through of the Sherlock Holmes series.