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Redefining Mystery

We’ve had some tough times, lately, so when I looked at my TBR pile (composed primarily of history, science, and literature), I sighed. I just didn’t have the verve to crack one of those. I needed something fun, something fresh, something…easier. So, when a friend recommended Emily Arsenault’s The Broken Teaglass as a fun, engaging read, I jumped at the chance.

I’m glad I did.

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Don’t Gild the Lily

It seems to me that Hollywood–and entertainment in general–can’t come up with anything new.

Sequels. Prequels. Spin-offs. Reboots.

The so-called “summer blockbusters” are nothing more than tasteless CGI pastries injected with a gooey filling made of bantering superheroes, giant robots, zombie fighters, and sparkly vampires, all which we viewers scarf down while speeding past fiery explosions on our way to a happy ending. Every actor and action, from the abdominal beauty of the Spartan 300 to the hypnotically-slo-mo destruction of iconic American landmarks, is retouched and enhanced into a stylized pabulum for our plebeian appetites. There is no grit. There is no ambiguity. All is good and bad, beautiful and evil, plucky survivors and defeated foes.

Then, along comes Max.

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Two, Please

Stack of BooksEmbedded within this paragraph is an “error.”  Can you find it?  Is it glaringly obvious?  I’m guessing that it isn’t.  In fact, I’d bet that until I point it out to you, you won’t realize it’s there.  Want a hint?  It’s not grammatical.  It’s not punctuation, either.  It’s . . . Wait for it.  Wait for it. . .

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Reverse Havdalah

Gossamer WheelThe Monkey-Boy Day Job has been a tooth-grinder this week, and it’s made me think of the Jewish ritual of havdalah. Continue Reading »

Thanks, THanx

Ribbon vibrator. Platen roller. Type bar. Paper finger. Guide pointer.

Know what I’m talking about?

Smith-Corona. Remington. Underwood. Royal.

With me now?

I’m talking about typewriters. Manual typewriters. Old-fashioned, heavy, noisy, mechanical machines driven by the power of your fingers. Yes, those lovely old clackety-clack behemoths that used to be ubiquitous but now only exist as props in crime novels and on the “collectible” sections of eBay.

If you’re old (like me), you either love them or hate them. Otherwise, you may never have even seen one of these miracles of low-tech machinery, much less experienced the aching hands that come from a long session of literally “pounding the keyboard.”

I happen to love these old machines. As it turns out, so does Tom Hanks.

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Bird Brains

Last week, I made the mistake of going to a bookstore. I avoid bookstores, as a rule. I always leave them with books. More books. Books I want to read. Books that sit on the shelf and taunt me.

This last trip had an interesting twist: I left with all non-fiction.

One of these non-fiction books was Gifts of the Crow, by John Marzluff and Tony Angell. It is dissertation on the nature of corvids–crows, ravens, jays, magpies, etc.–and through the use of anecdotes and field studies, it illustrates how intelligent these birds are, and how many analogues exist between their behavior and ours.

Marzluff is a veteran ornithological biologist and Professor of Wildlife Science at the University of Washington, here in Seattle. Angell is an illustrator whose line drawings accompany the text, and whose schematics of the corvid brain and anatomy fill the appendices. Let’s face it: these guys know their stuff.

It’s an intriguing subject for me. Ravens and crows are strong spiritual icons both here in the Pacific Northwest, and throughout the Native American cultures I studied for the novels of my Fallen Cloud Saga. Personally, blue jays (like the Steller’s jays that come to my deck and jeer at me until I give them some peanuts) are among my favorite birds. I’ve often noted how adaptable, how intelligent these birds seem to be. Their behavior always seemed to be a step more advanced than the other birds that frequent our back garden. In short, when I regarded the crows and jays that live around me, I often felt that there was someone in those birds, regarding me in return.

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Unique

The Red Knight, Parry’s nemesis in The Fisher King

I got very angry yesterday, after hearing the news of Robin Williams’ death, but I wasn’t angry with him. I was angry with two other people.

The first person I was angry with was an acquaintance who berated Williams for his suicide, calling him selfish and weak. Thankfully, many came to Williams’ defense, chastising this person for both his insensitivity and his ignorance.

The other person I was angry with was myself, because there was a time when I would have said something similar. Continue Reading »