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Remembering

Gossamer WheelFifty years ago, I was four and a half.

Fifty years ago, I learned that people die.

By that age, I knew what death was; I had already experienced the death of a loved one. One morning our cat, Cricket, dragged herself home, wounded beyond repair, crushed and half blind. My parents put her down. My mother explained it to me. We stood in the sun on our neighbor’s back porch, looking out over the salt marsh that Cricket loved to prowl. The air was warm and filled with the scent of salt and kelp. My mother stood behind me and told me of the wounds Cricket had suffered. She put a hand over one of my eyes to show me what it would have been like for her. I was saddened by it, of course–Cricket and I had a special bond; she trusted me enough to have her litter of kittens under my bed–but the way my mother explained it, I could see that it was a necessary thing. She was suffering, and the only way to end that suffering was to end her life. It was an act of love, an action not taken lightly.

But fifty years ago, I learned that people could die, too.

At that time, beyond my parents, my friends’ parents, friends of my parents’, and teachers, I knew of only two adults: Walt Disney and President Kennedy.

Fifty years ago today, President Kennedy died. Within the year, my mother would die. Shortly after that, Walt Disney would also be dead.

Those three deaths affected me profoundly. The grief born of that triple loss colored my outlook for decades; it affects me still, to be honest. From my place here on the far side of that tragic education, I can’t tell you how I am changed, only that I am changed.

Looking back fifty years, I remember that I was brought home early from school. I remember adults weeping, men in tears, a thing I had never seen. I felt infected by their grief, swept along by the current of their emotions. I had little concept of what a President was, but I knew who he was, and a few days later, when we watched the funeral on our small television, when I saw that riderless horse fighting the reins, fractious with distress, it all hit home.

People die, too.

Love them while you can.

k

Bad Juju

TFL Problem

What do writers have in common with baseball players?

We’re incredibly superstitious.

A writer friend composes all her novels on this laptop. She sits on the couch, has the computer on her lap, and types away. It’s the way she works (and boy, does she work!) Well, one day her laptop was giving her problems and we all piped up with suggestions such as getting a USB keyboard, putting it up on a TV tray, or working on the other computer for a while, etc. These suggestions were all shot down because all of them messed with her successful method. She writes in a certain way and anything that is not that certain way is simply unacceptable.

I’m the same way. If anything isn’t the way that’s worked for me in the past, it’s simply unacceptable.

Hence, my current problem. Continue Reading »

Stoking the Fire

Piazza

Pen has hit paper on The Wolf Tree.

Admittedly, it’s nothing to shout about. I’ve merely written and rewritten the opening line about two dozen times. We talked about opening lines a while back, and the decision I made then was to take more time working the opening line for this book. Well, I’ve been doing that.

Ever worked on a single sentence for three days? Continue Reading »

Happily Misaligned

Gossamer Wheel

In outlining the new book, I create histories. As a result, and today being Veterans’ Day, I was reminded of something I discovered back in 1990.

You see, some American families have a long and celebrated history of military service. My family does not. Some families can measure their generations from war to war. My family cannot. Continue Reading »

The Wolf Tree

Life has begun (touch wood) to settle. Crises have subsided. Daily dramas have diminished. The weather has turned cold and windy and wet, calming nerves and dampening temperaments.

Now it’s time to get back to work. The Wolf Tree is once more underway.

I’ve had a few days off this week, and First Reader and I have taken long walks in the blustery drear, kicking around ideas like the autumn leaves at our feet. I’ve worked on the timelines for the intertwined stories, settled on names for the major characters, and started to flesh out their personal histories.

Continue Reading »

Simple LivingHere’s an easy recipe for a classic soup, with a twist. We had this last weekend and it was super good, especially on the cold, grey days of autumn.

Nom.

Continue Reading »

Heroine UnDisneyfied

Fifteen years ago, Disney got their hands on Hua Mulan, the legendary Chinese heroine, and used her to anchor their decidedly meh-worthy film, Mulan. Disney’s treatment was not the first film attempt to tell the story of this 6th century legend (the first film was made in 1927) nor, thankfully, was it the last.

Mulan: Rise of a Warrior (2009) is a live-action portrayal of the classic story of a young woman who, to save her ailing father, poses as a young man and takes his place in the military during the battles between the nation of Wei and the tribes of the Mongolian steppes. She spends twelve years a soldier, rising through merit, achieving the rank of general. When the war is resolved, she refuses the offices and lauds offered her for her service, and instead returns home to her village.

While no one is going to really mistake Zhao Wei for a man, she is by far the best choice from the other reported candidates under consideration. Moreover, Zhao turns in a strong performance, building layers of nuance and contradictory emotions, melding fury with vulnerability, grief with honor, and showing us through a strong and character-driven script a real character of strength.

Movies from China tend to have three things I dislike. I don’t like “wire” movies, where everyone is unconstrained by the laws of physics. I don’t like the Hong Kong Cinema kung fu movies, where again, physics are optional. And I don’t like the thoroughly predictable and incredibly depressing endings that a lot of movies out of modern Chinese cinema seem to have.

Therefore, this Mulan is a winner on several levels. It is not a “wire” movie, the battles (though many) are fairly earth-bound in their construction and execution, and though the film doesn’t end with a Big Red Bow, it’s a believable and realistic (for the time) outcome to an exceptionally unusual situation. More importantly, it’s a satisfying ending, and that’s too rare in the modern Chinese cinema (in my opinion).

Some of the characters are rather two-dimensional; villains are villainous without reason, and tyrants are tyrannical because it moves the plot along. Secondary characters are generally the same quirky but loyal caricatures of soldiers you’ll find in any film about the military. However, these failings do not pull down the whole movie. The complexity of characters like Mulan, Wentai, Fei, and the Rouran princess keep this film above the norm, and the intricacies of their relationships–the depth of their thoughts and reactions–keep us engaged.

Also worth mention is the exceptional costume design and art direction, which combine to give a verisimilitude to the exteriors, armor, and battles that can only enhance our enjoyment. Nothing stands out, here, as being anachronistic.

Exception to the above: for some reason, the director chose to cast a Russian singer, Vitas, as a servant to the Mongol khan. He seems to be there solely for his talent as a singer (his falsetto voice is remarkable), but he stands out like, well, like an Anglo amidst the Mongol horde. Frankly, I found him a distraction, and totally unnecessary to the tale.

Overall, though, I really enjoyed this movie, and would recommend it for any rainy weekend this winter.