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Writer Gal

April 2017

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LANGUID

Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine!

This was on my doorstep yesterday:




You can't see Lev Grossman's blurb at the bottom, which reads, "I could read him forever and never get bored."

I suppose it would be unfair to challenge someone to a FIGHT TO THE DEATH in the arena just for saying something before you had a chance to say it.

And I could go on about my week of doldrums, and some decisions I'm coming to, keep changing my mind about, remaking, deciding again, then deciding against, but I won't. Why whinge all over when the sky is my proxy and the weather a metaphor for my INNERMOST SOUL!

And also, I am much more cheerful today, possibly due to watching Morlock Ambrosius bleed all over everything. Fiery blood is jolly and warming and also there are WEREWOLVES and I finally just met a few incredible female characters -- I knew they were there, I just knew it, I just had to wait a while, but there they are, and you know what? I BET THERE WILL BE MORE!!!

And the Sun Speech and Moon Speech reminds me of what Amal taught me about Arabic right around the time I read her story, "And Their Lips Rang With the Sun." So now SHE has to read it. Eventually. After thesis-chaptering.

There should be a law. "Thou shalt not tempt thy thesis-writing friends with AWESOME WEREWOLF NOVELS!"

And sometimes on the train and then on my walk to work today, a line of dialogue or a moment would thrill me so, I had to stop reading utterly just to glance up and smile, because some things are worth a CONCENTRATED smile, a moment of doing nothing else but SMILING. And also I could not help myself.

My Pudding expression, for those in the know.

I'm getting that ATWOOD feeling this time 'round, right? Other Enge books, they made me merely ecstatic. They made my fingers cold as I read them gloveless and walking through the snow. But they have not made me feel this profound and joyous DOROTHY DUNNETT despair of "This is what mastery means."

And then that recognition of, "I am not there yet, nor yet may ever be," without the sadness attending, because you CANNOT be sad in the presence of mastery; the art itself forbids it.

Near-mastery makes me want to scratch my eyes out.

jamesenge's THE WOLF AGE makes me want to sing.

And sing and sing and sing. Songs from Pocahontas, probably, because this book now belongs to me and is therefore MINE, BOYS, MINE EVERY MOUNTAIN! AND DIG, BOYS, DIG ME THAT GOLD!

That is the only song I know featuring the word "mine" prominently enough to suit my mood. Otherwise, I'll just go around barking like the seagulls in Nemo.


Comments

*luvs like a cuff*
Aye, and the feeling's entirely mutual, minxtress, and oh I HAVE MISSED YOUR ICON-FACE, you goblin queen, you!
*cuddddles*

Got time for a gchat? Happens I've got an assignment to turn in to you.
Gimme half hour to finish up a box of NEVERENDING children's books?

Although. I have to say. I found this one and it nearly made me cry, it was so colorful and funny and poetic and full of JELLYBEAN-GREEN MARTIANS!

MARS NEEDS MOMS.