Books unmasked

Happy Halloween!

Here's a puzzle for you -- how many of these books can you identify without their costumes, er, dust jackets? Some should be easy, others maybe not so much:

(click the image to make it bigger)

Other nifty undercover embellishments, which didn't make the puzzle matrix for obvious reasons:

Some cover decorations, like those on Number the Stars, Beauty, The Complete Tales of Uncle Remus, Diamond Willow, and The Castle in the Attic are embossed without foil or color, and don't photograph worth a darn. Check 'em out! And next time you've got your hands on a nice new hardcover, don't be too shy to peep under its knickers. You might be surprised by what you find. Heh.

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Currently re-reading:

Jackaroo
by Cynthia Voigt

Poetry Friday

The Hag

The Hag is astride,
This night for to ride;
The Devill and shee together:
Through thick, and through thin,
Now out, and then in,
Though ne’r so foule be the weather.

A Thorn or a Burr
She takes for a Spurre:
With a lash of a Bramble she rides now,
Through Brakes and through Bryars,
O’re Ditches, and Mires,
She followes the Spirit that guides now.

No Beast, for his food,
Dares now range the wood;
But husht in his laire he lies lurking:
While mischiefs, by these,
On Land and on Seas,
At noone of Night are working,

The storme will arise,
And trouble the skies;
This night, and more for the wonder,
The ghost from the Tomb
Affrighted shall come,
Cal’d out by the clap of the Thunder.

~Robert Herrick (1648)

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Currently reading:

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
by Robert Louis Stevenson

Tiresome trends, volume 5

For the record: I am officially getting my fill of realistic novels narrated by witty, sarcastic, socially outcast teenagers.

Thank you.

(Prior complaints gathered here.)

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Currently reading:

Under Three Tsars
by Elizabeth Narishkin-Kurakin

Shorty-short Spitfire news post:

As of today, Miss Spitfire is an ebook!

ELSKE, by Cynthia Voigt

ELSKE

by Cynthia Voigt

(Atheneum)

I've had a doozy of a time figuring out why I like this book so much. With its restrained style and limited access to the characters' inner lives, a number of readers have complained that they felt detached from Elske. Stepping back to consider objectively, I can see where they're coming from - that sort of thing usually drives me bats. But in this case, where others wind up disengaged, I find myself fascinated. Even when they don't say so, I'm sure I know what the characters are feeling. What they do say, and the way they say it, tells me everything I need to know. It's like watching really good theatre, the kind without voiceover or soliloquy, where the tension between the surface and what lies beneath simply crackles.

How does Cynthia Voigt do that, without a stage, and without actors? If I find out, I'm not telling - at least not until I've learned to do it myself.

State of the TBR pile

Finished:

The Storm in the Barn, by Matt Phelan

Escaping the Tiger, by Laura Manivong

As for next week, I'm thinking some classic horror might be fun. Say, Dracula, or The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. (Probably the latter, since it's shorter and the movie's showing on TCM on Halloween.) Possibly with a little Poe mixed in.

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Currently reading:

The Lost Conspiracy
by Frances Hardinge

Post-It countdown

I hereby retire the [first draft] Revise-O-Meter with the following stats:

Chapter standings:
Chapter 1: 100
Chapter 2: 100
Chapter 3: 100
Chapter 4: 85
Chapter 5: 100
Chapter 6: 100
Chapter 7: 100
Chapter 8: 85
Chapter 9: 85
Chapter 10: 85
Chapter 11: 95
Chapter 12: 80
Chapter 13: 95
Chapter 14: 100
Chapter 15: 100
Chapter 16: 100
Chapter 17: 100
Chapter 18: 85
Chapter 19: 95
Chapter 20: 100
Chapter 21: 85
Chapter 22: 90
Chapter 23: 80
Chapter 24: 85
Chapter 25: 90
Chapter 26: 80
Chapter 27: 80
Chapter 28: 95
Chapter 29: 90
Chapter 30: 90
Chapter 31: 90
Chapter 32: 90
Chapter 33: 90
Chapter 34: 85
Chapter 35: 85
Chapter 36: 85
Chapter 37: 85
Chapter 38: 90
Chapter 39: 75
Chapter 40: 75Chapter 41: 70
Chapter 42: 80Chapter 43: 85Chapter 44: 25Chapter 45: 25
Chapter 46: 85
Chapter 47: 45
Chapter 48: 80Afterword: 100
For a grand total of 4200 out of 4900 possible points
85.71% overall satisfaction

GOAL:

85% (or better) overall satisfaction

(Achieved...uh...sometime in early September)

Eventually I may reinstate the Revise-O-Meter for another draft, but for now progress shall be measured via a Post-It countdown:

Opening Standings:

Red: 22

Orange: 38

Yellow: 21

Green: 10

Blue: 39

(click here in case you missed the visuals and color-codes)

Yesterday, I peeled off 35 flags. We'll see what kind of numbers I pull now that I've demolished 50% of the "easy" ones right off the bat.

Poetry Friday

To Hope

When by my solitary hearth I sit,
And hateful thoughts enwrap my soul in gloom;
When no fair dreams before my "mind's eye" flit,
And the bare heath of life presents no bloom;
Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed,
And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head!

Whene'er I wander, at the fall of night,
Where woven boughs shut out the moon's bright ray,
Should sad Despondency my musings fright,
And frown, to drive fair Cheerfulness away,
Peep with the moonbeams through the leafy roof,
And keep that fiend Despondence far aloof!

Should Disappointment, parent of Despair,
Strive for her son to seize my careless heart;
When, like a cloud, he sits upon the air,
Preparing on his spell-bound prey to dart:
Chase him away, sweet Hope, with visage bright,
And fright him as the morning frightens night!

Whene'er the fate of those I hold most dear
Tells to my fearful breast a tale of sorrow,
O bright-eyed Hope, my morbidfancy cheer;
Let me awhile thy sweetest comforts borrow:
Thy heaven-born radiance around me shed,
And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head!

Should e'er unhappy love my bosom pain,
From cruel parents, or relentless fair;
O let me think it is not quite in vain
To sigh out sonnets to the midnight air!
Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed,
And wave thy silver pinions o'er my head!

In the long vista of the years to roll,
Let me not see our country's honour fade:
O let me see our land retain her soul,
Her pride, her freedom; and not freedom's shade.
From thy bright eyes unusual brightness shed
Beneath thy pinions canopy my head!

Let me not see the patriot's high bequest,
Great Liberty! how great in plain attire!
With the base purple of a court oppress'd,
Bowing her head, and ready to expire:
But let me see thee stoop from heaven on wings
That fill the skies with silver glitterings!

And as, in sparkling majesty, a star
Gilds the bright summit of some gloomy cloud;
Brightening the half veil'd face of heaven afar:
So, when dark thoughts my boding spirit shroud,
Sweet Hope, celestial influence round me shed,
Waving thy silver pinions o'er my head!

~John Keats

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Currently reading:

Escaping the Tiger
by Laura Manivong

OTMA returns

Madame Editor has had her way with OTMA.

Two things:

1. This manuscript is HUGE. I'd never printed it out myself, so I didn't really understand the scale of this thing. According to the shipping label, it weighs more than my godson did when he was born.
2. Madame Editor is SMART. (Even when I don't agree with her.)

What OTMA looks like after I had my way with two pads of Post-It flags:

A nosy reader's guide to Post-It color-coding:

• Red - points where Madame Editor and I disagree
• Orange - stuff I'm willing and able to fix
• Yellow - same as above, but affecting more than just the line or paragraph indicated
• Green - evidence of editorial brilliance
• Blue - quick fixes (typos, deletions, repetitive vocabulary, etc.)

DLC match #12: Disney vs. Porter

Disney Literature Challenge:

POLLYANNA

by Eleanor H. Porter

Say what you will: I like the Disney version better - and not just because of that frakking awesome little old lady who plays the drums in the bazaar scene.

Over and over again, I've heard that Walt Disney's greatest strength was as a storyteller. Now I know darn well that Mr. Walt Disney himself didn't sit down and construct each and every script the studio produced, but the man had a story department like no other. The more I read of the original sources, the more I admire what their pixie dust can do for a saggy plot.

In print, Pollyanna meanders. A lot goes on in isolation in the novel that I'm used to seeing piggybacked into compact scenes, and plenty more happens offstage, conveyed only in conversations between Nancy and Old Tom. Disney has honed a knack for streamlining that sort of thing like no one else, and once you've seen the story team at their best, it's hard to go back. In this case they managed to preserve the essential character dynamics and the emotional arc of the plot, at the same time pressurizing the story just enough to make it really fizz. Some of the differences are significant, but they're never gratuitous; nearly everything Disney added serves to unite the plot with a common thread and give it the momentum the novel lacks.

For example: they way Eleanor Porter wrote it, Pollyanna gets hit by a car. Random. Out of the blue. In the movie, Pollyanna's accident is a direct result of Aunt Polly forbidding her to go to the bazaar -- boosting the emotional stakes that much higher.

Also, for as much as Disney has a reputation for sugar-coating everything he touched, it was Eleanor Porter, not Walt Disney, who couldn't resist spilling the beans about Pollyanna recovering the use of her legs. If you ask me, the Disney version, which leaves you happy, hopeful, and hanging, says more about the power of optimism than the oh-I'm-so-glad-I-can-walk-again letter that concludes the novel.

(And all that says nothing about what Hayley Mills brings to the picture.)

Verdict:

Disney

Score:

Disney - 6

Authors - 7

THE MOORCHILD, by Eloise McGraw

THE MOORCHILD

by Eloise McGraw

(McElderry/Simon & Schuster)

It takes a special kind of aplomb to make a reader fall for a sharp-edged character, and I can't remember the last time anyone carried it off as well as Eloise McGraw. With a personality palpable as burlap, Saaski the changeling somehow comes across as lovable as she is fierce, even as she tumbles and blunders through a life that seems utterly foreign to her. The fantasy is just the way I like it - grounded in a robust old world setting that makes fairy folk seem matter-of-fact as moor grass. Meanwhile, the grudging affection that takes root in Saaski's family unfurls at just the right moment to wrench your heart sideways.

Quite possibly the best re-read of the year.

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Currently reading:

The Children's Book
by A.S. Byatt

State of the TBR pile

Finished:

Pollyanna, by Eleanor H. Porter

Elske, by Cynthia Voigt

The Red Tent, by Anita Diamant

As for next week, I'm hoping Monica was right about this one, because it's BIG:

The Children's Book, by A.S. Byatt

The Andrew Zimmern of chldren's lit?

It's been a long time since we've had an installment of the Ucky Food Chronicles.

If you've read or watched Pollyanna, you probably remember thinking What the...? whenever Mrs. Snow mentions calf's foot jelly.

Well, I've found a recipe, and it's not quite so foul-sounding as I was braced for. Basically, it's the next best thing to Jell-o. (News flash: even when it's packaged up all neat and pretty, gelatin still comes from boiling the collagen out of critters.)

Not sure whether I'll be able to find a real live batch of calf's foot jelly to try for myself, but let the record state that I'm game. Or maybe if I can figure out what the ratio of calves' feet to Knox gelatin packets is, I can stir up a vat myself. Either way, I'll keep you posted...

Poetry Friday

Waiting

Serene, I fold my hands and wait,
Nor care for wind, nor tide, nor sea;
I rave no more 'gainst time or fate,
For lo! my own shall come to me.

I stay my haste, I make delays,
For what avails this eager pace?
I stand amid the eternal ways,
And what is mine shall know my face.

Asleep, awake, by night or day,
The friends I seek are seeking me;
No wind can drive my bark astray,
Nor change the tide of destiny.

What matter if I stand alone?
I wait with joy the coming years;
My heart shall reap where it hath sown,
And garner up its fruit of tears.

The waters know their own and draw
The brook that springs in yonder height;
So flows the good with equal law
Unto the soul of pure delight.

The stars come nightly to the sky;
The tidal wave unto the sea;
Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high,
Can keep my own away from me.

~ John Burroughs

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Currently re-reading:

The Red Tent
by Anita Diamant

DLC match #11: Disney vs. Carroll

Disney Literature Challenge:

ALICE'S ADVENTURES IN WONDERLAND

ALICE THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS

by Lewis Carroll

Even though I'd read the first book years ago, somehow I expected Lewis Carroll's prose to be much more stuffy and old-fashioned. Blame J.M. Barrie. To my chagrin, Alice turns out to be a heap more accessible than my beloved Peter Pan; Carroll is more playful and far less prone to asides and lectures than Sir Barrie. When the plot is so loaded with nonsense, it's a wise author who doesn't go for a lot of stylistic flourishes.

A note on the artwork:

Normally I'm a traditionalist, but I make special exception when it comes to Helen Oxenbury's illustrations. They're so cozy and ageless, as opposed to Tenniel's stiffly Victorian originals. I don't see how anyone could resist the whimsy and design of these particular editions:

As for the film, Disney pretty much cherry-picked scenes from both books and jumbled them up as he saw fit. Nevertheless, with the exception of the contrived unbirthday party, those individual scenes stick closer to the source than much of the Disney canon. The styling of characters like Alice, the cheshire cat, and the Tweedle twins is remarkably similar to John Tenniel's illustrations as well.

However, much as I usually appreciate the way Disney smartens up the pacing of classic stories, in Alice's case, it backfired. Without the added support of plot or character development the storyline's rendered into a frenetic string of encounters. Whimsy gets pushed to the wayside, and turns the mood much more brash and garish than Carroll's comfortable tales.

Matter of fact, Disney himself never cared much for how the animated Alice turned out, so I don't think even he would dispute my ruling in this match.

Verdict:

CARROLL

Score:

Disney - 5

Authors - 7

Incidentally, this happens to be my favorite film version of Alice (orange dress notwithstanding). Perhaps a bit hokey, but there's a holy royal truckload of old school star power strutting around in those crazy costumes.

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Currently re-reading:

Elske
by Cynthia Voigt

Nucking futs

Last week the superdrive in my MacBook died. No more playing of CDs, watching of DVDs, loading of software, or adding of audiobooks to my iPod. Kaput. The bugger costs $280 to replace, which was way more money than I cared to spend.

So...I, um...

...I bought one of those shiny new MacBook Pros instead. Because they're so much cheaper and all...

HERE'S HOW I SEE IT - HERE'S HOW IT IS, by Heather Henson

HERE'S HOW I SEE IT - HERE'S HOW IT IS
by Heather Henson

(Atheneum/Simon & Schuster)

I may not have a summer stock theater in my backyard, but man can I relate to a season where everything goes rotten. Junebug knows she's leading lady material, but so far she's only been cast as. . .a thunderstorm. Plus, her family's cracking at the seams, and there's a weirdo wannabe thespian trailing her like a puppy dog. Oh, and she might have given her own father a heart attack. Yet the show must go on.

The story may revolve around stock theater, but you won't find stock characters here. And the two-birds-with-one-stone way Henson gets across all sorts of information about the history of acting and the stage made me grin - once I'd caught on, that is. This is a book anyone can love, but given Junebug's ping-ponging between her dreams (Here's How I See It) and reality (Here's How It Is) I'm betting fans of Linda Urban's A Crooked Kind of Perfect in particular will find a friend indeed in this plunge into the performing arts.

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Currently reading:

Pollyanna
by Eleanor H. Porter

State of the TBR pile

Finished:

The Secret Garden, by Frances Hodgson Burnett (audio)

A short list, due to the fact that I spent five days dipping doggedly in and out of the prequel to Wise Child before finally giving up around page 100. And the dumb thing about that? I forced my way thought Juniper four or five years ago and didn't like it any better then, either. There's nothing "wrong" with it, except that as much as I love Wise Child, the prequel leaves me utterly unaffected and uninterested. How can that be, especially given how appealing Juniper's character is to me in the original story?

Meanwhile, I'm having a good old time revisiting some of the favorites on my very own shelves. Next week's contenders:

Elske, by Cynthia Voigt

The Passion of Artemisia, by Susan Vreeland

The Red Tent, by Anita Diamant

Hear ye!

Know how to pronounce Brian Jacques's name? How about Jon Scieszka's? Are you sure? Now you can be:

Author Name Pronunciation Guide

Roughly a hojillion authors' names, spoken aloud for your pleasure and edification.

Don't scoff at that link if you're already a pronunciation prodigy -- the voices that guide you belong to none other than the authors themselves, and many of them treat you to the stories behind their names. (Any dingbat can figure out how to pronounce Lois Lowry, but how many of you smartypantses knew she spent a short time in 1937 as Sena Hammersburg?)

Poetry Friday

Do you think I know what I'm doing?

That for one breath or half-breath I belong to myself?

As much as a pen knows what it's writing,

or the ball can guess where it's going next.

~Rumi

DLC match #10: Disney vs. Alexander

Disney Literature Challenge:

THE BLACK CAULDRON

by Lloyd Alexander

Some years ago, I embarked on a Newbery marathon that involved a detour through The Book of Three on my way to The High King. I don't remember much about Lloyd Alexander's original story, other than I didn't hang around in the land of Prydian long enough to make it to the silver medal-winning second installment for which the Disney movie is named. But my indifference, as you'll soon see, is beside the point.

The other night, I grabbed the DVD from the library on a whim and sat through the whole thing. More accurately, I ranted my way through it, because the film version has all the artistry and subtlety of a Saturday morning cartoon series. Despite the fact that it contains the only dribble of animated blood I can recall ever slipping out of the Walt Disney studios, The Black Cauldron is so spectacularly crummy on screen that I don't care how Disney's version of the story matches up with the Prydian books -- it's a disgrace to Disney's reputation as much as Lloyd Alexander's. For Pete's sake, the best thing I can say for it is that I liked the way Gurgi, the requisite fuzzy lovable sidekick, says "munchems and crunchems" in his gurgly voice. That's absolutely it.

Verdict:

Forfeit to ALEXANDER

Score:

Disney - 5

Authors - 6

WISE CHILD, by Monica Furlong

WISE CHILD

by Monica Furlong

(Random House)

Reasons I shouldn't like this book:

1. A dawdling plot
2. A sullen, self-absorbed narrator
3. Telling where there could have been showing

And you know what? I don't like it - I LOVE it. There's something so subtle and gentle going on here, I can't spot it, but I sure can feel it, and I don't want it to stop.

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Currently re-reading:

Juniper

by Monica Furlong

State of the TBR pile

Finished:

Here's How I See It - Here's How It Is, by Heather Henson

Wise Child, by Monica Furlong

Dandelion Wine, by Ray Bradbury

The Moorchild, by Eloise McGraw

Next:

Juniper, by Monica Furlong

Pollyanna, by Eleanor Porter

And you thought Little Black Sambo was...special?

Why Helen Bannerman would be doomed to self-publishing, were she alive today:

The Story of Little Kettle-head

See, you don't have to be racist to flop in children's lit today - didactic and bizarro will do just fine.

(Thanks to Editorial Anonymous for the link.)

Poetry Friday

October
O hushed October morning mild,
Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;
Tomorrow's wind, if it be wild,
Should waste them all.
The crows above the forest call;
Tomorrow they may form and go.
O hushed October morning mild,
Begin the hours of this day slow.
Make the day seem to us less brief.
Hearts not averse to being beguiled,
Beguile us in the way you know.
Release one leaf at break of day;
At noon release another leaf;
One from our trees, one far away.
Retard the sun with gentle mist;
Enchant the land with amethyst.
Slow, slow!
For the grapes' sake, if the were all,
Whose elaves already are burnt with frost,
Whose clustered fruit must else be lost--
For the grapes' sake along the all.

~Robert Frost

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Currently re-reading:

The Moorchild
by Wloise McGraw