Sunday, December 28, 2008

Sunday Scribblings: I believe...



I believe in less than I used to.

Loss does that to a person.

Things have been snatched from my tight grasp, tearing fingernails and flesh. My legs tremble, my nerves jump erratically under my skin and my breath becomes shallow, so shallow it seems as if I'll never breathe deeply again. Around that corner is someone who means me harm. He'll carve his name on my virgin flesh as I accept the horror, safe in the knowledge that it could be worse because I know worse, and expect no better.

But you don't know that, do you? You don't know what "worse" is. Smile your golden smile and accept the graciousness of the world. For every one of you, there are ten of me. We, with bones snapped, black blood seeping, organs pierced and hearts shredded...we suffer so that you may believe.

Hard times come to us all, of course. You will one day lose your smile, your moment in the sun. You'll join our ranks of pain and fear. It's not all bad, you know. After all, the worst has happened and now you can spend the rest of your days on hands and knees, searching through the tattered remains of your beliefs for that most elusive of things - hope.

Sunday Salon: Books Galore


I've been absent from the Sunday Salon for a while. I've thought about posting, but just haven't quite got there. The reading has continued of course, so I'm going to talk about The Subtle Knife, Red Leather Diary: Reclaiming a Life Through the Pages of a Lost Journal, Standing at Water’s Edge - Moving Past Fear, Blocks, and Pitfalls to Discover the Power of Creative Immersion and American Gods.


I read Neil Gaiman's American Gods a few months back, after enjoying his young adult novel Coraline so much. American Gods was an incredibly memorable book. I read a lot and even if I enjoy a book it tends to go a little fuzzy after a while. Not so with American Gods, parts of which are still razor sharp in my mind. Characters and scenarios still come to my mind often, even after a few months which is always the sign of a great book. I won't say it was an easy read (particularly the last third or so) but it was continually surprising and unwound itself like 20 metres of red ribbon on a blanket of white snow. I didn't know where to look thought, or what evocative image to entertain. I wanted to read the book in snippets, digesting it slowly, and savouring the complicated stories of how Gods were transported to America, and their slow decline. I thought Gaiman's tension between the old Gods and the new Gods (I loved the idea of the Chrome Gods, who received hundreds of thousands of sacrifices every year from people in car accidents and the drug gods, who again were worshipped in the thousands). I felt like things came a little undone at the end and I wasn't necessarily satisfied with how the final battle went down (or didn't), but what a hell of a ride.


The Red Leather Diary was a nice little find. I can't remember who recommended it to me, but it arrived on my loan shelf at the library just before Christmas. It even had its own red tag - THIS BOOK IS IN HEAVY DEMAND, return it fast or we'll hunt you down - you know the sort of thing. I read a few pages when I left the library and I was hooked. Lily Koppel discovered Florence's diary in an old trunk being thrown out in her apartment building in New York. It detailed the life of Florence, a young girl who was 14 at the start of the diary and 19 at its end, who had a passion for writing, art, men and women and life in general. It faithfully documents New York City in the 20's and 30's and is a wonderful, colourful read. A writer for the New York Times, Koppel wrote a piece on the diary which she then decided to turn into a book. The young girl who wrote the journal is now an old woman of 90, but still with plenty of vigour and passion. The book isn't just transcribed diary entries, but is rather broken into subject matter and interspersed with interviews Koppel did with the 90 year old Florence and her friends and surviving family. In short, it is fascinating and I highly, highly recommend it.


The Subtle Knife is the second of Philip Pullman's award winning Golden Compass series. I bought the omnibus a while back and I've been wading through it. The Subtle Knife was actually an easier read for me than His Dark Materials, possibly because I'd seen the movie and pretty much knew what the main plot points were, which didn't create much mystery or intrigue. The second book is very different from the first and I can understand the reluctance of filmmakers to commit to filming the trilogy. However, I loved the character of Will and I felt Lyra was much more sure of herself in this book and hence a bit less whiny. This was very much the story of two children. I missed Iorek, and of course the loss in this book of one of my favourite characters saw me crying my eyes out. So sad. :( I can also understand the whole religious uproar around the books now. The first book isn't at all controversial in terms of the church. Critical yes, controversial no. But the second one takes it to a new level with the idea of Lord Asriel finding God and planting a knife in his chest. I love controversy though, and I love ballsy plot choices. More power to you, Philip Pullman.


That's a microscopic image of Anne Paris' Standing at Water’s Edge - Moving Past Fear, Blocks, and Pitfalls to Discover the Power of Creative Immersion. The good news: I can relate to all of Paris' main points in this book. It is definitely speaking to me and I'm finding that it has a wonderfully refreshing take on creativity and some new ideas. The bad news: It reads like a Phd thesis. It is impossibly cemented in a bunch of academic references and talk about parenting and how if your parents didn't tell you your drawings were great when you were a kid you became moody and withdrawn and can't be your own best friend etc etc. Some of this info is interesting, but after a while it just becomes redundant. We wouldn't be reading this book if we were having a great artistic life. Let's all agree we weren't really encouraged as children and stop belabouring the point! I also think more examples from Paris' clinical work would be great too. I'm sticking with this book because like I said, it is speaking to me. But I'm used to academic texts and I can imagine it might be a bit heavy going if you're not as forgiving as I'm willing to be.

And that, my friends, is it for my Sunday Salon. It's my birthday this week and I know at least 2 delicious books are headed my way and I also have almost $100.00 worth of vouchers to use up this week in local bookstores so yay! Happy reading.

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Remington Typewriters and Red Leather Diaries



I requested this book at the library some time ago. I can't even remember where I heard about it. Maybe I should work on that. Writing down where the recommendation comes from. Except of course it is hard enough to write down the book title and I've only just started a separate little book filled with "must reads".

Anyway, I went to return Kim Harrison's Where Demons Dare and asked if there were any books on hold for me. Two were, one of which is the a fore referenced The Red Leather Diary: Reclaiming a Life Through the Pages of a Lost Journal. I sat in the car and read the inside cover, which had me sitting in the car for a little longer starting to read the prologue. I decided to actually get out of the car and take this fascinating book to the coffee shop and read it while I drank coffee and ate croissant. So I did, and I've been reading it on and off all day. Not too much, and not too little. Just the right amount to immerse myself in the New York of the 20's. On page 72 I came across a picture of a Remington typewriter, made in 1928 and painted lavender that the diarist had convinced her parents to buy for her. I was suddenly seized with the need to touch my Remington typewriter.



To say that it is mine is a little misleading. This Remington typewriter belonged to my Grandmother or my Great Grandmother and has been sitting in my father's shed for all almost-32 years of my life. I've never seen it operational and I have no idea whether or not it can be made operational. All I know is that it is time to try and restore it. I actually know nothing about restoring typewriters. A helpful website here suggests I start with a soft damp cloth and go from there, so I'm going to give it a try tomorrow. The website also suggests some steel wool and a few other cleaning products (alcohol for the keys apparently) so I'll get those tomorrow too and see what I can see. So far I know there is a LOT of rust, so that will take some getting rid of. Plus, I suspect that not really knowing what I'm doing will be a problem at some point. But for now, I'm just excited!

Here are some pictures of my Remington's current sad state:



This is the "carry case". You seriously do NOT want to know how heavy this typewriter is. Maybe it is made out of iron???


Despite the sheer amount of rust visible, and the very fact I'm restoring a typewriter when what I don't know about typewriters could fill a warehouse, I'm still excited about my project. I feel a strong sense of serendipity here. I'm a writer, and I have to assume that my Grandmother or my Great Grandmother (who both died about 20 years before I was born) was a writer. Why the hell else would they drag this incredibly heavy typewriter out from England when they moved to Australia?

I'm a writer. And maybe, just maybe, this is a Grandmother's gift to a granddaughter she knew she would never meet. I couldn't think of a better present.

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

I. Want. This. Library.

I want this guy's library.





I mean, seriously. If I was a dot com millionaire, this is exactly what I'd do with all that money.