tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20943796655667467252024-03-05T12:25:28.225-05:00CorantolavoltaReading and reviewing obscure books so you don't have toKirkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000788491850052802noreply@blogger.comBlogger31125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094379665566746725.post-58893127530758548842014-02-14T17:45:00.000-05:002014-02-14T17:45:31.005-05:00On Walt Whitman and HIs PoetryI will be frank, open, honest, and all those other good things which Horatio Algers characters are: I do not like Walt Whitman.<br />
Yes, I know that his "Song of Myself" is wildly popular and critically acclaimed. So what? If anything, wide popularity is a strike against it, not in its favor.<br />
It's terrible. His poetry is unartistic to a degree where I can write some similar stuff practically be accident, and I'm no poet. Look, see:<br />
<br />
"The tree's grain flows 'round and 'round, it is life, the tree is life, I am the tree."<br />
<br />
I just wrote that. And almost every single verse Whitman penned is just as bad. Did that make any sense? Of course it didn't! And neither does Whitman's.<br />
The only poem I've read by him that I liked at all was "O Captain! My Captain!". You know why? It used meter and rhyme, it was poignant and dramatic, and it was capable of being empathized with. A couple of those points are particularly important. I'll start with the first: "it uses meter and rhyme." Why is this important? Because most of Whitman's poetry was free verse.<br />
Free verse has gained fairly widespread acceptance these days. Personally I despise it. Traditional poetry takes a lot of skill to pull off correctly, and requires an enormous vocabulary, meticulous attention to detail, and a sense of symmetry and patterns. Free verse requires none of that. It is the symptom of a modern virus which has infected the minds of today's artist elite. See, today, anything goes. If I do something random and useless, like, say, downloading every picture Flickr and printing them all out, then dumping them on the floor, that counts as an artistic museum exhibit; provided, of course, if I can come up with a tidy description displaying the appropriate amounts of nonsensical, vague, <i>Whitman-like</i> New-Agey philosophy coupled with a disconnect from the laws of logic.<br />
Obviously, I have little respect for free verse.<br />
Whitman's free verse was particularly loathsome, however. Perhaps it was the sheer audacity, pompousity, arrogance, and pride shown in writing however many pages of nonsense, dubbing them "Song of Myself", publishing them again and again, and finally succeeding in brainwashing a dazed and gaping public into thinking it was good poetry. Admittedly, if Whitman thought that it was an accurate representation of himself, perhaps he was correct.<br />
Any one can write several sentences, compile them into non-standard paragraph form, and call it "free-verse poetry". I call it "ungrammatically formatted sentences."<br />
Here, lets do some poetry:<br />
"The sea<br />
comes crashing to shore<br />
in waves upon waves.<br />
It is big and blue.<br />
The sea is blue."<br />
<br />
This is fun. Let's do some more. Look ma, I'm a poet!<br />
<br />
"I,<br />
Type this on<br />
an IBM keyboard.<br />
Clicky, clicky,<br />
so go the keys. "<br />
<br />
Insta-Poetry! <br />
Right now you're screwing up your face at me and saying, "look, that's not poetry."<br />
"Sure is," I reply. "It's free verse!"<br />
It rather reminds me of a story told me by an old friend of my grandfather's. We called him Uncle Denny, although he wasn't actually related. Anyway, Uncle Denny was a natural born prankster. At one time he was working at a college as a maintenance man or something of that nature. The college was hosting an art show.<br />
Well, Uncle Denny noticed a blank spot on the wall, and nobody was looking, so he went over and hung his drop-cloth there. Then he just sort of waited around to see what people would say.<br />
A group of high-brow artsy folks walked over and started admiring Uncle Denny's drop-cloth. They began discussing its philosophical meaning and artistic merits, until they noticed the absence of a signature. Seeing Uncle Denny nearby, they asked him who had painted the lovely picture.<br />
"Oh, just a moment." he said. Then he went over and wrote his name on it. Aghast, the people demanded an explanation.<br />
"Well, it's <i>my</i> drop-cloth." he replied. They did not see the humor in the affair.<br />
But that's the sort of attitude the art elite seems to have.<br />
I mentioned that there was a second point about "O Captain! My Captain!" that was important. That is its understandability, or empathise-ability. It deals with down to earth emotions and feelings, things we can understand. "Song of Myself" is incoherent. What beauty is there in chaos? Some may feel that the restrictions of a traditional verse are confining. I find beauty in the order of a traditional verse, and in the skill necessary to write it well. Let me give an example.<br />
Say you looked at a lovely hand-carved statue. It was chiselled out with a lot of thought, care, and skill. Then look at a CNC routed carving. It doesn't make you feel the same way, does it? You may admire how far technology has come, but you aren't emotionally moved. the harder things are to obtain, the more we value them. A piece of traditional poetry took a lot of work to produce; done well, we treasure the results. The instant gratification version, free-verse, may thrill us for a short while("Look mom, I'm a poet!"), but the beauty doesn't really move us over and over.<br />
Whitman's work suffered from the malady of lazy writing compounded with the disease of a simultaneously vacant and chaotic philosophy. Truly, does he deserved to be remembered as a great poet?<br />
<br />
Absolutely not.Evanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04386114062458411603noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094379665566746725.post-80742641394519032042011-08-29T11:25:00.000-05:002013-05-02T17:15:09.459-05:00Around the World in 80 DaysAnd here I continue my reviews of Verne's novels with the classic <i>Around the World in 80 Days</i>.<br />
It starts detailing the character and nature of one Phileas Fogg, an eminently respectable gentleman of the most exact and regular habits. He is wealthy, although no one knows where he gained his fortune, and he has no living family. He usually spends his day at the Reform Club, a society composed of other wealthy and respectable gentlemen like himself, although none are quite as machine-like. He spends his time at the Reform Club reading the daily papers, and playing whist, at which he is very proficient. He has just hired a French servant, to replace his old one(the other servant being discharged for preparing his shaving water several degrees Fahrenheit off). The new servant, named Passepartout, is very pleased with his new master, because he has always wanted to settle down quietly. That is, until Mr. Fogg returns home earlier than usual, bearing the news that he and his servant are going to travel around the world in 80 days, on a wager. They bring little luggage, Mr. Fogg bringing only a carpetbag full of bank notes, as they will buy what they need on the way.<br />
So they travel to India. They ride an elephant and rescue a young Indian girl who speaks English. She travels with them. It turns out she had relatives in China, and since they are headed in that direction already anyways, she goes with them.<br />
In China, Passepartout is separated from Fogg and the girl, so he manages to work for food until he bumps into them again. The Indian girl continues with them, as her relative apparently moved, and is no longer in China. <br />
Throughout all this, they are pursued by a London detective, who is absolutely convinced that Phileas Fogg is the bank robber he was hired to catch.<br />
They sail to America, where they get into a street fight. After that, their train is waylaid by Indians, but they manage to escape.<br />
But all this had delayed them somewhat, and by the time they in England again, it remains to be seen if they'll make it in time or not.<br />
And then the detective manages to procure a warrant, and Fogg is put in jail until he can be tried.<br />
But it turns out that the real bank robber was captured weeks before, and that Fogg had been detained for naught.<br />
Despite their best efforts, it seems that they are late. Fogg does not bother going back to the Reform Club that evening as it would be useless. The next morning, he proposes to the girl, and they resolve to be wed at once. But Passepartout, on going to procure a preacher, discovers that by some freak incident of time, they were actually one day early, but they have mere minutes to reach the Reform Club before they really do run out of time.<br />
Meanwhile, back at the Club, Fogg's friends are watching the clock slowly tick towards the time when the money is theirs. Just as the last seconds roll past, Fogg bursts in. And so he has, indeed, been around the world in eighty days.Evanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04386114062458411603noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094379665566746725.post-1765904687789609962011-08-28T20:19:00.000-05:002013-05-02T18:12:19.916-05:00The War of the WorldsH.G. Wells' classic, The War of the Worlds, starts out promising great adventure and excitement, but the real danger is to the reader rather than the character. Losing a grip on reality is not what I had in mind for a good read. If you are easily depressed, then this book is not for you. I, happily, can sit hear and say "It was really depressing," without feeling anything of the sort, but it really is a rather gritty story. Besides, the story(told from first-person) usually gives things away, by alluding to things that haven't happened yet. If this is the best job that one of the Fathers of Science-Fiction can do, I am very disappointed. But I digress.<br />
So a couple of men see a bright light flashing across the sky, some sort of comet or meteor, which lands on earth.<br />
The next day, people from around that part of England gather around the pit where the projectile has landed. The missile is smooth and metallic, very large, and not at all like previously documented meteors. Then, the lid on the the meteorite begins to turn slowly. When opens, horrible creatures from Mars emerge. They are at first very sluggish and slow, due to Earth's greater gravity and air pressure. The crowd runs, screaming, in all directions away from the pit.<br />
The narrator, the main character, stays hiding in the brush nearby, transfixed by fear.<br />
And the Martians are unleashed! <br />
They come out in horrible walking machines! And burn everything in sight! The English countryside is in ruins! They unleash a choking black smoke! Sickly red weeds grow everywhere, threatening to choke out every last bit of plant life!<br />
Oh look, they're all dead. Well, that was easy.<br />
Because apparently, Martian immune systems are underdeveloped, considering that they are, after all, merely brains. So they are all dead.<br />
But, an odd mark has now appeared on Venus. Like a crater. Oops. So much for the Venusians.<br />
So, yeah. The Martians invade, they destroy, they die. Then attack Venus.<br />
I wouldn't really recommend reading it. I don't know about any of H.G.Wells' other books, because I haven't read any yet. But I hope to eventually.<br />
Maybe those will be better.Evanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04386114062458411603noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094379665566746725.post-52833904931833792652011-08-28T20:07:00.000-05:002011-08-28T20:07:44.622-05:00Dyke Darrel the Railroad Detective"DIED FOR DUTY. BOLD AND BLOODY CRIME AT NIGHT ON THE CENTRAL RAILROAD"<br />
This is the heading of the newspaper column describing the railroad robbery. This is what immerses Dyke Darrel, the amazing and successful detective, into a great mystery.<br />
When it turns out that the person murdered during the robbery was Dyke's friend, nothing can stop him from plunging headlong into the clues, unearthing every bit of evidence until the villains are brought to justice.<br />
It is almost like Sherlock Holmes, only infinitely more amusing. Sherlock Holmes rarely goes through such perilous adventures as Dyke. Holmes never needed to rescue his kidnapped sister. Indeed, despite the villains being obvious from the start, the ending still manages to surprise.<br />
Even when things are at their blackest, the intrepid detective manages to pull through. He escapes innumerable perils, all in his quest to hunt down every last one of the railroad robbers. <br />
It is definitely worth the read. I can barely say anything about the book at all, for fear of ruining it, so all I can say is this: Agatha Christie's Hercule Poirot might be the brightest Belgian egghead who ever adorned a mystery novel's pages, and Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes may be a pop culture icon, but they don't have anything on Dyke Darrel, Railroad Detective.Evanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04386114062458411603noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094379665566746725.post-33768194259414572602011-08-19T21:17:00.001-05:002011-08-19T21:17:45.103-05:00Punctured PoemsThis book, <i>Punctured Poems</i>, by Richard Armour is a short little book full of "famous first lines and infamous second lines". Two-lined poems accompanied by a picture and some "footnotes" make up the contents. The first line of each poem is the first line of some poem written by another poet. The second line was added by the author of this book. I laughed so hard.<br />
My favorite was this:<br />
<i>John Milton, "On His Blindness"</i><br />
When I consider how my light is spent,<br />
I'm glad utilities come with the rent.<br />
<br />
Several of the poems are rather rude, but most are in good fun. So I was glad to spend four dollars on it at the used bookstore.Kirkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000788491850052802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094379665566746725.post-39572585358593008572011-08-14T20:43:00.000-05:002011-08-14T20:43:13.615-05:00The LongingThe Longing came early this year<br />
thick heavy and sharp.<br />
<br />
No relief is in sight<br />
until I am old.<br />
<br />
I want to be old quickly, quickly!<br />
Give me patience with my passion.Kirkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000788491850052802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094379665566746725.post-28001593322468265612011-03-09T12:43:00.000-05:002011-03-09T12:43:49.670-05:00Journey to the Center of the EarthI must admit that I was originally drawn to this book by its most peculiar and fascinating title. A world at the center of the celestial sphere, reached only through some secret way, piqued my imagination. Also, I consider Jules Verne to be an excellent author, and I have been trying to read every book I could find by him, so it was a natural choice.<br />
So!<br />
The book is presented in a first-person narrative form, from the perspective of a young man named Henry. He begins his tale by describing his uncle, who is very eccentric and has the queerest habits. He is extremely impatient and can come across as gruff at times, although he is, in reality, very kind and devoted to his nephew. This uncle is a great scientist and professor, and he loves old books.<br />
The Uncle has just found a scrap of paper, engraved with Icelandic runes. The uncle immediately attempts to translate it. He enlists the help of his nephew in this task, who, after several hours spent on this task, finally cracks it. They find the name <i>Arne </i><i>Saknussemm </i>on it, as well as these words: "<i>Descend into the crater of Yocul of Sneffels, which the shade of Scartaris caresses, before the kalends of July, audacious traveler, and you will reach the center of the earth. I did it."</i><br />
Because of his uncle's personality, Henry is at first afraid to show these words to his uncle, lest he decide to attempt such a voyage himself. Eventually, however, he does show them to him, and his fears are realized.<br />
They start at once, leaving for Iceland the very next day. They spend several weeks traveling, and as these weeks are almost completely uneventful, I will skip ahead to when they reach Mt. Sneffels.<br />
They have since hired a guide, to lead them to Mt. Sneffels, and this guide descends into the crater with them. His name is Hans, and the only peculiar or interesting thing about him is that he is extremely unemotional. <br />
These three climb down the inner face of the crater, finally reaching the bottom. There they find several tunnels. The uncle chooses the tunnel he thinks best, but want of water drives them to choose another one. The break open an underground stream, which supplies their needs for some time.<br />
Even just thinking about reading the chapters detailing their underground trip wearies me, as it was rather dry. <br />
Finally they have reached a vast underground ocean, where they build a raft of semi- petrified wood, and begin a long sea voyage. They witness a fight between two vast sea monsters, and are caught in a gigantic storm which sends them back to where they started. Harry and his uncle are greatly discouraged at this, until they find the fossils and skeletons of many creatures, including, to their great surprise, the remains of a human.<br />
The uncle finds the way by which Arne Saknussemm reached the center of the earth, but it is now blocked by a great boulder. They attempt to blow it up using the supply of gun-cotton that was brought with them, but the blast accidentally initiates an earthquake. The vast underwater sea is drained out through a hole caused by the earthquake, and they go down with it. Eventually, all three people(and their raft) are blown up a volcanic shaft on the island of Stromboli, where they return to civilization.<br />
The professor and Henry are hailed as scientific heroes after they tell their fantastic story. Henry gets happily married. Hans goes home to Iceland. Everybody's happy.<br />
I personally was slightly disappointed with the outcome of everything, especially the implausibility of being blown up a volcano and surviving, but it is faster paced than some of Verne's other books, and I would highly recommend it. It might not be up to the level of <i>20,000 Leagues Under the Sea</i>, but it is definitely a classic.<br />
<br />
<i> </i> Evanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04386114062458411603noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094379665566746725.post-5970735102472538842011-02-24T13:19:00.001-05:002011-02-26T15:28:16.566-05:00Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the SeaOf Jules Verne's many classics, <i>Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea </i>is one of his best known. In it, Verne makes several of his famous predictions, like, for example, predicting that subs would be able to reach the South Pole by going under the ice. In 1958, two U.S. nuclear submarines crossed the Northwest Passage, a band of ice between the Atlantic and Pacific oceans, by going under the ice. One of these subs was named the <i>Nautilus</i>, after Verne's famous vessel. It was also the world's first nuclear-powered submarine. But I am getting ahead of myself.<br />
So!<br />
It starts out from the perspective of a Frenchman named Pierre Arronax, a well-known and respected professor of marine biology. Numerous ships have been wrecked or lost at sea, and many of these accidents were attributed to a monster of great size and power. Naturally, as a marine biologist, this interests M. Arronax considerably. When pressed to give his expert opinion on the matter, he says: <br />
"After examining one by one the different hypotheses, rejecting all other suggestions, it becomes necessary to admit the existence of a marine animal of enormous power."<br />
This statement, written by a distinguished professor, excites great controversy and excitement.<br />
M. Aronnax is invited to a voyage on board the battleship <i>Abraham Lincoln</i> by her owner, Captain Farragut. Their goal is to track down this immense creature and kill it. M. Arronax accepts with great pleasure.<br />
They spend several weeks in this way, searching in vain for a giant narwhal. When Captain Farragut finally orders his men to head back to shore, that evening they come upon the monster. They find, to their surprise that it seems to be fluorescent, glowing in the dark like phosphorus. They attack the monster, pursuing it around and around, but it seems capable of great speed without any apparent effort. It then strikes, smashing their rudder and screw-propeller, rendering the <i>Abraham Lincoln </i>incapable of any motion. In the great shock of the impact, M. Arronax is cast overboard. His servant, Conseil, is extraordinarily loyal and jumps overboard with him.<br />
Arronax is rescued by Ned Land, a famous Canadian harpooner, one of the(former) passengers aboard the ship. They find shelter on the back of the "monster", finding, to their surprise, that it is made of steel plates, riveted together. A hatch below them opens, and they are dragged inside my six masked men.<br />
They are locked up inside a room, where they remain for some hours. At last, they are visited by two men, the first of little importance, the second evidently very important. The prisoners tell their story in every language they know, but the two strangers remain silent, until they leave. Although the prisoners are very comfortable, for the room they are in is not a jail cell, and they are well fed, all of them are in an agony of suspense as to what is going to happen to them.<br />
The important person visits them again, introducing himself as Captain Nemo(Nobody). He informs them that although they can never leave his vessel and rejoin the rest of humanity, they are guests aboard the Nautilus. Their alternative is death. <br />
So that is their situation! Read the book yourself to find out what happens to them! I would highly recommend it. Although it leaves you hanging, in some ways, and you need to read the next book, <i>The Mysterious Island</i>, to find out who Captain Nemo truly is, I believe that you will enjoy it. It is the sort of book that needs slow, thoughtful digestion. Some parts you will inevitably find boring, and if you are not mechanically inclined, then there are even more dull sections. But the suspenseful moments make up for it. You will be alternately enchanted and lulled to sleep, drawn into the excitement and tempted to skip over parts.<br />
Take it slowly.Evanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04386114062458411603noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094379665566746725.post-86740931778313217802010-02-27T17:37:00.004-05:002010-02-27T21:39:21.459-05:00The Red House Mystery<span style="font-style: italic;">Although A. A. Milne's name is well known as a result of his <u>Winnie the Pooh</u></span> <span style="font-style: italic;">stories, this series comprised only a portion of his written works. Among his other writings are several plays and short stories, and a mystery tale entitled, <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/etext/1872">The Red House Mystery</a>.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;">The Red</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> House Mystery</span> opens up in a boarding house, known as the Red House, in a pretty English countryside. A parlor maid and her aunt are gossiping about what took place at the breakfast table earlier that morning. According to the maid, the owner of Red House, one Mark Ablett, seems troubled by the appearance of a letter. The letter is from his brother Robert who has long been noted as a good-for-nothing, and resides in Australia, only bothering to contact his brother if he wishes to extract a loan from him. This time, his letter forewarns his brother of a coming visit to Red House, that very afternoon.<br /><br />After an introduction to the other residents of the Red House, we meet a Mr. Anthony Gillingham, who has just arrived at a nearby train station. He is on a vacation, which means he is seeking out some odd thing to do for a change, such as running a countryside hotel. His friend, Bill, whom we meet among the residents of the Red House, has written to him about the place, and Anthony decides to proceed to the Red House and see what may come.<br /><br />He has only just arrived, when he sees a man beating on the door of the boarding house, demanding entrance. Upon questioning him, Anthony learns that the man heard a gunshot coming from inside, and the door has been locked, preventing them from seeing what occurred.<br />They gain admittance through a window, and discover that, in the room where Mark and Robert were in conference, Robert lies dead upon the floor, and the owner of Red House is nowhere to be found.<br /><br />With this unexpected turn of events, Anthony is very pleased to take up the occupation of a detective for a short time. He recruits Bill into helping him, and together they take on the search for Mark Ablett and the murderer.<br /><br />I will give only this as a hint: the murderer is unexpected; the murdered even more so.Noellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01084682456641282404noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094379665566746725.post-78033088635921467392010-02-27T17:16:00.002-05:002010-02-27T17:22:11.406-05:00The Tragedy of the Pastry PieOnce there was a pastry pie. It sat on a windowshelf. The window was open and a happy breeze blew in over the pastry pie, cooling it gently, for it was still hot from the oven. The breeze mingled the scents of the summer grass outside with the savory scent of the pie to create a pleasant odor in the warm sunny kitchen.<br /><br />A bird hopped in and stood on the windowshelf. He was a brown bird, small and round, and curious.<br /><br />The pastry pie sat next to him, spreading out its warm smell. The bird cocked his head and hopped a little closer to the pastry pie. And then he fell in love.<br /><br />He bobbed his head and fluffed his feathers. He hopped around the windowshelf excitedly.<br /><br />The pastry pie responded in kind, letting out fresh steam from a crack in its golden flaky crust.<br /><br />The bird drank in the pie's pleasant breath. Then he began his dance once again. He bobbed and jumped and hopped and fluffed.<br /><br />And then the cook came and took away the pastry pie.Kirkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000788491850052802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094379665566746725.post-47260630534674882022009-10-08T13:32:00.003-05:002009-10-08T13:56:57.631-05:00A Damsel in Distress<span style="font-style:italic;">A Damsel in Distress</span> by P. G. Wodehouse was recommended as summer reading on the <a href="http://www.girltalkhome.com/">GirlTalk blog</a>. So, since it is no longer summer and I have tons of work to do, I thought "what better time to start reading it?" It was especially useful in avoiding writing that <span style="font-style:italic;">Wall Street Journal</span> summary and later my Materials Science lab report. But besides being useful for procrastination, it was well worth the read.<br /><br />A happy English family is introduced to us in the first chapter. Oh wait, no, they are not really very happy. Well, Lady Caroline might be...<br />But not for long.<br />Her step-son Reggie Byng has not proposed to her brother's daughter after all like she had been hoping.<br />Lady Caroline is the chatelaine of Belpher Castle and sister to Lord Marshmoreton with whom she stays along with her step-son Reggie. Lord Marshmoreton is a widower with a son, Percy Marsh, Lord Belpher, and a daughter, Lady Patricia Maud Marsh (but she goes throughout the book as Maud). Lord Marshmoreton's chief delight is to garden roses. Lady Caroline's chief delight is to make everyone do as she thinks they ought to be dignified and live up to their social and historical position. She has Lord Marshmoreton working on a book about his ancestors. She is also urging her step-son Reggie to marry Maud, despite Maud having fallen in love with a penniless man in Wales. Reggie personally is in love with Lord Marshmoreton's secretary Alice.<br /><br />And thus we are introduced to everyone all at once and get all their desires and the obstacles to them as well.<br /><br />Now on to George.<br />George was usually a happy man, but one day he woke up feeling lousy. But that could have been owing to the fact that he had gone to better very late that night(or early...in the morning) because there had been a party for the opening of the new play in London for which he had composed the music. But whatever the case, he was feeling lousy. And some friends of his said his problem was that he needed to get married. So he started to run some errands feeling very down and lonely and depressed.<br /><br />And then suddenly a girl hopped into his cab as it was paused in traffic and asked him to hide her.<br /><br />And the adventure begins at last.<br />And what fun it is indeed!<br />Maud, for it was she who hopped into the cab, was out on the sly to meet with her man from Wales whom she heard was back from a cruise with his employer. But she saw her brother, Percy, and hopped into the strange cab. George promptly falls in love.<br /><br />The story continues with much hilarious misunderstanding as everybody mixes everybody else up and confuses Lord Marshmoreton for a gardener and etc...<br /><br />And of course it must all come out right in the end, or else I wouldn't be so happy about it. So now you must all go read it right away too. You can find it on <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/catalog/">Project Gutenburg</a> as <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/etext/2233">A Damsel in Distress</a>.Kirkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000788491850052802noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094379665566746725.post-74232502476766721192009-03-16T15:00:00.000-05:002009-03-16T16:05:39.762-05:00Surprised By Joy<span style="font-weight: bold;">Introduction</span><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br />Surprised By Joy</span> is a book by C. S. Lewis. It discusses his early life and childhood, and the evolution of his faith. But it's primary focus is:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The "stab of Joy"</span><br />It was beauty that inspired Joy. It was this Joy that Lewis sought.<br /><br />The lack of beauty, and therefore Joy, as he grew up in a Christian home, made him think that Christianity wasn't enough. Because of this thinking, encouraged by several of his teachers in various boarding schools he attended, he slowly abandoned the Christian faith. He sought after the poetry and writings of ancient Greece and Rome, and the songs of Wagner and others that revealed to him a "stab of Joy".<br />In C. S. Lewis's own words, the stab of Joy<br /><blockquote>"....[I]s an unsatisfied desire which is itself more desirable than any other satisfaction. I call it Joy, which is here a technical term and must be sharply distinguished both from Happiness and from Pleasure" (Surprised By Joy, p. 17-18).</blockquote>The book weaves in and out of Lewis's outer life and inner one, a sort of "dual plot." In the very end, Lewis comes to realise that the Joy he was seeking all the time was merely a sign, pointing to something better all along: to Jesus Christ Himself.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Literature</span><br />It is fun to note certain areas in which Lewis's experiences later led to characters in <span style="font-style: italic;">The Chronicles of Narnia</span>. I have pointed out a few below:<br /><br />The "New House" he moved into at age 7, he describes as large and full of all sorts of alcoves and rooms. Books of all kinds were scattered here and there, on bookshelves and in tall piles in the attic. The "New House clearly helped along the construction of: the Professor's house in the country (in<span style="font-style: italic;"> the Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe</span>).<br /><br />Lewis describes driving to his first boarding school: "Now I am choking and sweating, itching too, in thick dark stuff, throttled by an Eton collar, my feet already aching with unaccustomed boots (Surprised By Joy, p. 22)." Where else was that collar? "In those days, if you were a boy you had to wear a stiff Eton collar every day, and schools were usually nastier than now" (in <span style="font-style: italic;">The Magician's Nephew</span>, p. 1).<br /><br />Perhaps the most obvious allusion made is with Professor Kirk. Professor Kirk was one of Lewis's old and best loved tutors. He was very much into logic. Of course this can only be one man: "'Logic!' said the Professor half to himself. 'Why don't they teach logic in these schools?' " (<span style="font-style: italic;">The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe</span>, p. 45). We later learn that this character is named "Digory Kirk," or just "Professor Kirk."<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Recommendation<br /></span>I highly suggest reading this book for yourself. I enjoyed the humorous stories told about Lewis's absent-minded father, and the thorough explanations of English boarding schools (seeing that I am not English, I was very grateful for being introduced to English culture). It was also encouraging to have someone relate to my thoughts and feelings (or, rather, I relating to Lewis's) in a way more closely than I have found in other books.<br /><br />I can guarantee that you will not regret the time spent in reading this book, or the amount of "intellectual stimulus" it will provide.Noellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01084682456641282404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094379665566746725.post-38376590311982390942009-02-02T17:21:00.003-05:002009-02-02T17:47:43.439-05:00The cookiesI whip out the recipe<br />my grin betraying glee<br />I have a huge smile<br />that stretches a mile<br />That those far away can see.<br /><br />I opened the flour bag,<br />and watched that flour sag,<br />while a powder went floating<br />Like snow that is gloating<br />Oh! And I opened that flour bag.<br /><br />I poured out a cup of milk,<br />That looked like watery silk,<br />It splashed impressively,<br />splattering, sadly<br />on the counter; wasted milk.<br /><br />I pulled out an egg that was fat,<br />and promptly it fell with a splat;<br />Oh, egg you are gone!<br />This recipe was so long!<br />But at last I got through all that.<br /><br />I grasped the vanilla tightly,<br />And adjusted the lid slightly;<br />The vanilla was poured,<br />And relieved I toured<br />The pantry, nicely and kindly.<br /><br />I mixed with a spoon,<br />And hummed a tune,<br />The cookies were coming out fine,<br />I shaped them with a cutter of mine,<br />They would be done soon.<br /><br />I held in my hands a tray,<br />With the cookies all looking my way,<br />And I opened the door<br />and saw the interior<br />Of the oven, and - O, I say!<br /><br />The oven was hot,<br />and I was not,<br />And I stood contemplating heat,<br />With those cookies I wanted to eat,<br />Unsure of what I sought.<br /><br />The cookies were finally baking,<br />And oh, so long they were taking!<br />At last they were finished,<br />And not diminished,<br />As I took them out, hands shaking.<br /><br />But, alas, for my fate<br />(and how that word I do hate),<br />Was to trip on a ball,<br />And to promptly fall,<br />Dropping the cookies on plate.<br /><br /><br />(I know, I know, Kirk! The meter isn't right! :P )Noellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01084682456641282404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094379665566746725.post-47939681774526556312009-01-09T19:28:00.002-05:002009-01-09T22:18:19.726-05:00After the Odyssey 2The previous post introduced a blog which claimed to have serious articles posted on it. This is not actually so. They are posts of an unusual nature masquerading as serious. Everyone knows Miss Ell <i>can't</i> keep the normal serious type of blog. It just doesn't work. But anybody who hops by this should indeed go read it nonetheless.Kirkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000788491850052802noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094379665566746725.post-667014645565867092009-01-08T20:52:00.003-05:002009-01-08T21:03:06.780-05:00After the OdysseySince this blog is in one of the remotest corners of the blogsphere, I feel more comfortable about introducing my new blog, <a href="http://violets-in-space.blogspot.com/">SpaceyHead</a>. It is the typically dry blog with serious articles on it, written for school purposes. And there you have it!Noellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01084682456641282404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094379665566746725.post-62283113081480344152008-11-14T13:19:00.002-05:002008-11-14T14:01:04.288-05:00The OdysseyThis years schoolwork assigned me the reading of the book the <span style="font-style: italic;">Odyssey</span>, by Homer. Here is my review of it:<br /><br />The background information: Ulysses leaves his wife Penelope and their infant son, Telemachus, in Ithaca, and journeys to Troy. His men are lost after a series of misfortunes and he alone remains. The goddess Minerva has made him her pet, and she has managed to preserve him. Ulysses is being held captive by a beautiful goddess, who wishes to make him immortal. Minerva has just convinced her father, Jove, to let him be released, and has managed to get him started on the way home.<br />He has been gone for twenty years when the story opens. Here we see their son a young man, and Penelope, the grieved wife, convinced of her widowhood. Ulysses estate is being squandered by a group of young men. These young men are in the "prime of life," sons of prominent people in the city. They are trying to convince Penelope to marry one of them, and are plotting to kill Telemachus and divide the estate amongst themselves.<br />Penelope has succeeded in fooling them for several years, but will not say whether she will marry one of them or not. In the meantime, the men are eating the best cattle, drinking up all the wine, and making a general havoc of the estate.<br />Minerva comes to Telemachus, and convinces him that he must go and search for news of his father. So Telemachus leaves the scene for a short time.<br />Through many trials and things, Ulysses arrives home again, but he is disguised (by Minerva) to appear as a poor old beggar. He is received by his faithful swineherd who rambles on about the sad misfortunes that befell him after his dear master, Ulysses, left. In the middle of their conversation, in which Ulysses declares he shall tell the truth of his history and proceeds with a dreadful lie, Telemachus enters, just returned from his journey. He has learned enough to expect that Ulysses is alive, but in captivity.<br />When the swineherd leaves the room, Ulysses reveals who he is to his son, and the two plot about their revenge on Penelope's suitors.<br />The long and short of it is, Ulysses and his son gather a few faithful servants, and sneak into the house where all the suitors are feasting. They kill all of the suitors, and succeed in convincing Penelope that Ulysses is, in fact, Ulysses.<br />The problem now, however, is that the suitor's parents are all mad that their sons were suddenly wiped out of existence. They wage war against Ulysses. Minerva and Jove make plans to have the war go on for a few hours, so that some, but not all of the suitor's parents are killed. The war ends with Ulysses making peace with them, and thus the book ends.<br /><br />This book was hard to read in that the noble characters were not so noble. Ulysses is hard and bitter of heart towards the suitors, and sleeps with any number of women. You are left wondering if he is really great and strong, or if Minerva is the strong one who keeps helping him out because he is too weak. When in disguise, he tells people he is going to tell them the truth, and rambles on in a fearsome lie, in which, he has always met Ulysses and finds him to be the greatest man on earth.<br />Penelope is sly and deceitful, yet in, comparison to her husband, is a nicer character.<br />The gods and goddesses are stupid and confusing, always changing shape, and acting very immorally. Minerva is convinced Ulysses heart needs to be hardened considerably more against the suitors, until you are quite annoyed with her.<br />Telemachus and two of his friends, I think, are in all the best of all the people, in that, they merely followed Ulysses around and helped him with his scheme. They were not exactly plotters themselves.<br /><br />The hopeless attitude of the story makes one weary and at last, when the story is done, you feel quite like throwing the book out the window; the gruesome descriptions of the hacking off of noses and thrusting through with spears of the battle against the suitors, and the seemingly total normality of seeing and smelling blood that Ulysses has is ugly.<br />I would advise avoiding the reading of this book unless you have to.Noellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01084682456641282404noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094379665566746725.post-2687838549206023092008-10-23T17:18:00.002-05:002008-10-23T17:43:07.852-05:00Christmas! Whoa, that came fast!<blockquote>I sit in the living room and hear,<br />A joyous shout and yell....<br />I sigh, it's that time of year,<br />When store begin to sell:<br /><br />Millions of plastic, glass and wood,<br />Cardboard, paper, scissors rocks;<br />Anything worthless they could:<br />A host of printed, colorful socks.<br /><br />My sister decided to come to me,<br />Jumping around; They've got a bed,<br />A doll-bed! White! Look, see!<br />In this catalog," she said.<br /><br />I take the catalog with a sigh,<br />We go through this every year,<br />And now I'm wondering, "why?"<br />The answer falls on my inner ear:<br /><br />If all is in vain, like the Preacher said,<br />Yet, he urges us to toil with joy,<br />We can rejoice in doll beds,<br />And take delight in many a toy;<br /><br />Yet let us not lose sight this year,<br />Of why we can have delight;<br />'tis because Christ was here,<br />He who was the true Light.<br /></blockquote>Noellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01084682456641282404noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094379665566746725.post-33478987326544150202008-10-16T16:22:00.003-05:002008-10-16T16:43:28.012-05:00An Introduction postI looked at the note in my inbox yet again. Was I seeing things? Or had someone actually invited me to join management of this blog? I smirked mischievously, and grinned wickedly; what things I could now post on here! But the feeling of exhilaration disappeared as soon as it came, as the weight of greater responsibility settled on my shoulders.<br />I knew that when one is invited to these things, they ought to try to leave it better then before they came. I immediatly began planning a bright pink and purple background with blue-striped titling. Yes, that would definetly add to it, but I think that with a blog, one wants to encourage readers with their content firstly and formostly. Appealing backgrounds come in due time....<br />So this is me... (who cares if it's from 1892?) <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJN6_SwSjUMYA7HArfS3A_plz5RjpiNR7aMJFMWpscCCXTz04hpN2o3npULs61gEwyYg44zl94LE6fEqOyMqS-F-SpZdm5DqcDbKqM0dzpDrkZxTp30tgkfCe9AAcNaFL9XtNa8vuPheuY/s1600-h/Noelle+in+purple.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 182px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJN6_SwSjUMYA7HArfS3A_plz5RjpiNR7aMJFMWpscCCXTz04hpN2o3npULs61gEwyYg44zl94LE6fEqOyMqS-F-SpZdm5DqcDbKqM0dzpDrkZxTp30tgkfCe9AAcNaFL9XtNa8vuPheuY/s400/Noelle+in+purple.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257870064442698386" border="0" /></a><br /> As the other contributors read this, their hands begin to sweat, and they scan hastily for a "delete this contributor" button. So why did the original authors choose me, after seeing the things I post on my own blog?Noellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01084682456641282404noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094379665566746725.post-90777110819026669122008-10-16T12:57:00.001-05:002008-10-16T12:59:23.315-05:00A Fall Reading SnackThis is a reading snack update for the fall:<br /><ul><li>Pretzel sticks</li><li>Raisins</li><li>Peanuts</li><li>Candy Corn</li></ul><br /><br />I tell you, candy corn with raisins is amazingly tasty!Kirkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000788491850052802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094379665566746725.post-92068225576241088112008-10-02T08:29:00.003-05:002008-10-02T08:35:05.590-05:00The RequestThe man stood undecided.<br />What was asked of him<br />had indeed divided<br />his thoughts.<br />It was no whim<br />but a true request.<br />He must sink or swim<br />at once.<br />"Very well, at your bequest<br />I'll renounce my all,<br />my riches, my horse, my best,<br />all I own."<br />The man now stood tall.<br />"I'll take up the pannier<br />and follow you with all<br />I am."<br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><br />Written using three words pulled randomly from a dictionary: request, horse, and pannier.<br />Copyright 2008, Kirsten T.</span>Kirkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000788491850052802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094379665566746725.post-91507843939960194342008-06-26T08:11:00.005-05:002008-06-26T09:57:32.752-05:00A short story about a mushroom<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU2frBJYNOusvADeJmRE74iI6X3JwESKxia8uOBt4i9iXgq1bla1QxKHB-Sn2KiMhdNgUMm52sdO4NArNPuLnW9yTdmCsaCo-E4AldrN6zyf-kEd2gmidsEjsK_-kN1DTP5O7TFvWTFuk/s1600-h/IMG_0154.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU2frBJYNOusvADeJmRE74iI6X3JwESKxia8uOBt4i9iXgq1bla1QxKHB-Sn2KiMhdNgUMm52sdO4NArNPuLnW9yTdmCsaCo-E4AldrN6zyf-kEd2gmidsEjsK_-kN1DTP5O7TFvWTFuk/s200/IMG_0154.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216203193101248306" border="0" /></a><br />Once upon a time, there was a mushroom. A red mushroom. And it sat on top a small green hill. There were lots of blades of grass on the hill. And also some worms. And some stones.<br />But no other mushrooms.<br /><br />One day, a bird flew over head. It was a Shwifee bird. He was large – at least two feet long – and had sixteen claws, eight on each foot. He waved his purple plumes in the air and called out with a loud “shwi shwi!”<br />The mushroom slunk up together in an effort to go unseen. He distrusted this loud green bird with the purple plumes. If he could have, he would have uprooted himself and rolled away down the hill. But he couldn’t. So he stayed.<br />The bird flew over and then over again. Clearly, he was looking for something. The mushroom hoped it wasn’t himself. The bird paused in the sky…and dived.<br /><br />A clump of daisies stood together under an oak tree. They sang softly to themselves as they watched the sun travel the sky. Suddenly, a shadow fell over them, blocking the sun from their sight. A chill breeze blew up. The daisies closed their eyes tight. When they opened them again, the shadow had gone, and so had a friendly turnip which had been growing nearby them.<br />The daisies shivered and sang sad songs for the poor turnip who had disappeared so swiftly.<br /><br />The mushroom perked up again after a bit. He wasn’t squashed of crunched or flying through the air. Therefore, the strange bird must have left him alone, he reasoned. He surveyed the skies but saw nothing of the bird. He decided the bird had gone.<br /><br />A week later, the mushroom still sat on top of the small green hill. A mole had joined the worms and the stones and the blades of grass. The mole dug holes into the hill. But there were still no other mushrooms.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9JcgLzELjQoX996koAEzaaSYIdUSUzFdyrG40-DkP515M5hYsGJg8uKQxqJMl42PFPwiiCgxF2U2bVLRaHgXf7dUkZbm3wwMrlpkf7DwNpMYAJM28Ld2LumWmN9A-EaMorv5uF-TVFJk/s1600-h/IMG_0548.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9JcgLzELjQoX996koAEzaaSYIdUSUzFdyrG40-DkP515M5hYsGJg8uKQxqJMl42PFPwiiCgxF2U2bVLRaHgXf7dUkZbm3wwMrlpkf7DwNpMYAJM28Ld2LumWmN9A-EaMorv5uF-TVFJk/s200/IMG_0548.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216203865880254514" border="0" /></a><br />A loud noise sent the mole scurrying into a recently dug tunnel. The mushroom looked around.<br />“Shwi shwi!” the loud noise came again. The green bird was back again. He looked larger than before and greener than ever.<br />The mushroom would have covered his ears and cowered to the ground if he had ears to cover or could cower. Instead, he got as small as he could and hoped his red color had faded somewhat.<br /><br />The tomatoes scarcely even saw it happen. They were busy growing as large and as red as they could. There were five of them together. Then a breeze sped through them and there were only four tomatoes left.<br />The four remaining tomatoes stared at the empty place on the vine where the fifth had just recently resided. They forgot to grow for a whole hour because of the shock.<br /><br />Two days later, a great downpour of rain fell. The mushroom sat on the hill and let the water run over his sides. He enjoyed the sound the great drops of water made when they fell on him.<br />A tiny mouse ran by. Then the mouse returned. He shivered in the rain and asked humbly for shelter from the mushroom.<br />The mushroom agreed with the condition that the mouse did not nibble at him. mouse looked shocked. He declared he would never nibble at the mushroom. Did not the mushroom know he was poisonous to little creatures?<br />The mushroom was surprised. He had not known this. He wondered why he had not known this. But only for a short while.<br />The rain stopped and the mouse, thanking the mushroom, ran off. The mushroom sat deep in thought.<br /><br />Three days later, the mushroom was larger and redder than he had ever been before. He still sat amongst the blades of grass and the small stones. The mole had chased the worms, but the worms were cleverer. There were more of them than there had been five days ago. But there were still no other mushrooms.<br /><br />“Shwi Shwi!” The horrible bird soared over head once again. The mushroom crouched down between the blades of grass. The mole paused in his worm chase. The worms paid no heed.<br /><br />Fifteen heads of corn were bobbing in the sun. Their yellow tassels shone gold, proclaiming their ripeness. They felt proud of their full kernels which were becoming larger with each passing day.<br />The sun paled and twelve heads bobbed golden tassels in astonishment. Then indignation overtook them at the desecration of their pleasant field. Three full heads had disappeared.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglpQr_AjVrHGSjbvppzMDGN-JHA45CqOzQKKfg6viF4Dx0h06R8NBgL-YM3CiU_FvlJlN0xagejk57riYWgfjtI6olBfTTWKRe8l08Hn_k-kB4fKAwvEdw23szc2pksTSiMRC4uET8YVo/s1600-h/IMG_0543.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglpQr_AjVrHGSjbvppzMDGN-JHA45CqOzQKKfg6viF4Dx0h06R8NBgL-YM3CiU_FvlJlN0xagejk57riYWgfjtI6olBfTTWKRe8l08Hn_k-kB4fKAwvEdw23szc2pksTSiMRC4uET8YVo/s200/IMG_0543.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216203429425098562" border="0" /></a>How long shall this continue? The mushroom thought to himself. This can’t go on, he continued, echoing the cry of many a beast and vegetable.<br />The mushroom had made friends with the tiny mouse. He felt slightly less lonely now, though there were still no other mushrooms to grace the little green hill. They discussed the inroads made by the great dreadful green and purple bird frequently.<br /><br />Three days later, the mushroom sat by himself on the hill. The mole had gone to visit some friends and the worms had gone to sleep. The mushroom was contemplating many things.<br />A cry interrupted his thoughts. “Shwi Shwi!” the bird was back.<br />The mushroom thought for one second. Then he stood up at his tallest and best. He spread out his sides as far as they could go and let his pleasant aroma fill the air around him.<br /><br />The hill sat empty. The worms were asleep and the mole was still away. Only the blades of grass and the small stones mourned the passing of the mushroom.<br /><br />A week later, the tiny mouse came back to visit his friend the mushroom. He had exciting things to tell him. The terrible green bird with purple plumes and large claws would trouble them no longer. He had been found lying on his back with his claws in the air by a little brook. The bird was dead.<br />The mouse ran up the small green hill. The mushroom, his friend was gone.<br /><br />But there sat four little round red mushrooms in his place.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Copyright 2008 by Kirsten T. </span><br /><p></p>Kirkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000788491850052802noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094379665566746725.post-40464626768689835382008-05-15T19:20:00.003-05:002008-05-15T20:11:19.180-05:00The Puppet Crown<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiICuIuk6oCnYiyW0OP3jLCaSFoeH8wOH4A9FXfMkt8WUOb_T3yFhPW6q-IqzNS6m99o5luOMrN5t2szbfTHq1s7bzsA9BjPN7hvpsHrocxSkI-ivthB1ftwL-yEue2mdfk7H3AEntevEw/s1600-h/IMG_0419.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiICuIuk6oCnYiyW0OP3jLCaSFoeH8wOH4A9FXfMkt8WUOb_T3yFhPW6q-IqzNS6m99o5luOMrN5t2szbfTHq1s7bzsA9BjPN7hvpsHrocxSkI-ivthB1ftwL-yEue2mdfk7H3AEntevEw/s200/IMG_0419.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5200776059393600578" /></a><br /><i>The Puppet Crown</i>. It is a lovely book and a sad one. But though now I am so sad after reading it yet also I am happy for the character died a good death.<br /><br /><i>The Puppet Crown</i> introduces the puppet king, his beautiful young daughter, and his friend an Englishman and lord. The king came to his throne by way of many complicated politics, but he himself does not particularly wish for the crown. He prefers philosophy and poetry. But he tries to rule his country well.<br /><br />Next to this small kingdom is a small duchy governed by a duke who ought to have been king because he was the brother of the previous king. But like I said, there was a bunch of political maneuvers and the little kingdom itself could not very well be said to be independent any longer. Austria had taken charge and ordered things about in the manner that they begin in the story. Of course, the duke is not pleased about the arrangements and set in motion a vast encompassing intrigue to take back the kingdom.<br /><br />The Englishman friend of the king perceives that the king is unaware that his undoing is highly likely. To prevent, or at least delay the fall, the Englishman buys certain loan consols the king made. They will fall due ten years hence and the kingdom shall either be bankrupted if they are collected or saved for a while longer if renewed. The Englishman plans to keep the consols from the kings enemies.<br /><br />Ten years later, the Englishman is dead, but his son has come to renew the consols. The king is a paralytic now. His daughter is twenty. The duke is also dead, but his daughter, the new duchess shares his ambitions.<br /><br />The young Englishman enters the small kingdom in disguise. His footsteps have been dogged by spies and he is watched carefully everywhere he goes. His cover is blown, however, when an American friend of his recognizes him and calls his name out loud in public.<br /><br />Alas, but the enemies had overheard. The American and the Englishman were together captured and taken to the duchy. A battle of wits, cunning, and love ensues. The result: the Englishman has fallen hopelessly in love with the duchess and the American is sent back to the small kingdom to retrieve the consols left there by the Englishman in his hotel room.<br /><br />The American returns to the kingdom but cannot find the consols. He fights a splendid duel with a traitorous man, picks up a rose dropped by the beautiful princess, and does several other brave and dangerous things.<br /><br />He returns to the duchy but is accused of turning the consols over to the archbishop (loyal to the king). The duchess has him held a prisoner.<br /><br />The American escapes and after more daring and brave efforts, returns to the kingdom to warn the archbishop, who is mostly in charge since a recent stroke left the king speechless, of an army coming down from the duchy.<br /><br />An army is mustered but betrayed by it own men and no fight takes place. The American rides back to the capital of the kingdom to warn the princess. He fights his final duel with the traitorous man and kills the man. But the American is terribly wounded. He makes it to the city nearly dead.<br /><br />The story finishes with a number of plot twists. But the ending is sad. The American lost too much blood and in those days they did not have blood transfusions.<br /><br /><br />The entire story is exciting and frustrating and then exciting again. I cannot say whether or not it was well written or if the character development was good or if the plot was strong. I think the plot was good though, or at least decent. The story itself still has too much of its grip on me to analyze it clearly. So I shan't try. But someday I think it would make a splendid movie, and I think I shall even venture to say that I will read it again. But of course not yet.Kirkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000788491850052802noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094379665566746725.post-11094275213682239342008-02-29T10:33:00.003-05:002008-03-01T10:54:57.828-05:00A good reading snackBecause I'm just a poor student trying to make ends meet, I am always hungry. Well, that is not exactly true...<br />But I do get hungry in the afternoons or evenings.<br />And I was tired of eating crackers all the time. Generic crackers with their amusing titles are okay to eat for just so long. So I thought for a long while. Like maybe fifteen minutes.<br /><br />And the result was:<br /><ul><li>Pretzel sticks</li><li>Raisins</li><li>Chocolate chips</li></ul>I couldn't add nuts because I have a roommate who is allergic to those.<br />But this is a tasty snack which I munch on while reading or doing homework.<br />Plus, it makes you feel that you are eating healthier even thought you're probably not.Kirkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000788491850052802noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094379665566746725.post-63531677954014381892008-01-14T16:38:00.001-05:002008-01-14T16:40:53.427-05:00Reading ListThis is the list of all the books I read over this past year from Dec. 18, 2006 to Dec. 31, 2007.<br /><br />• Penelope’s English Experiences by Kate Douglas Wiggin<br />• The Romance of a Christmas Card by Kate Douglas Wiggin<br />• Bluebeard: A Musical Fantasy by Kate Douglas Wiggin<br />• A Cathedral Courtship by Kate Douglas Wiggin<br />• Polly Oliver’s Problem by Kate Douglas Wiggin<br />• The Well in the Desert by Emily Sarah Holt<br />• The Maidens’ Lodge by Emily Sarah Holt<br />• Anna of the Five Towns by Arnold Bennet<br />• Pippi Longstocking<br />• Jeff Benson by R. M. Ballantyne<br />• Emil and the Detectives by Kastner<br />• The Baron’s Gloves or Amy’s Romance by Louisa May Alcott<br />• Stepping Heavenward by Elizabeth Prentiss<br />• The Trial by Charlotte M. Yonge<br />• The Lances of Lynwood by Charlotte M. Yonge<br />• The Secret Adversary by Agatha Christie<br />• Murder on Orient Express by Agatha Christie<br />• Passenger to Frankfurt by Agatha Christie<br />• The Harlequin Teaset and Other Stories By Agatha Christie<br />• King Lear by William Shakespeare<br />• The Hidden Hand by E. D. E. N. Southworth<br />• The Missing Bride by E. D. E. N. Southworth<br />• Miss Marple (it was a large book with two of her stories in it) by Agatha Christie<br />• The Lost Lady of Lone E. D. E. N. Southworth<br />• What Every Woman Knows by James M. Barrie<br />• Dear Brutus by James M. Barrie<br />• The Tapestry Room by Mrs. Molesworth<br />• That Stick by Charlotte M. Yonge<br />• For Woman’s Love by E. D. E. N. Southworth<br />• The Red House Mystery by A. A. Milne<br />• Etheldreda the Ready by Mrs. George de Horne Vaizey<br />• A College Girl by Mrs. George de Horne Vaizey<br />• Independence of Claire by Mrs. George de Horne Vaizey<br />• Betty Trevor by Mrs. George de Horne Vaizey<br />• First Plays by A. A. Milne<br />• Big Game by Mrs. George do Horne Vaizey<br />• Second Plays by A. A. Milne<br />• The Rover of the Andes by R. M. Ballantyne<br />• The Kitchen Cat and Other Stories by Amy Walton<br />• Mariel of Redwall by Brian Jacques<br />• Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator by Roald Dahl<br />• The Original Adventures of Hank the Cowdog by John R. Erickson<br />• Penelope’s Scottish Experiences by Kate Douglas Wiggin<br />• Timothy’s Quest by Kate Douglas Smith Wiggin<br />• The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle by Avi<br />• Castaways of the Flying Dutchman by Brian Jacques<br />• Murder at the Vicarage by Agatha Christie<br />• Ozma of Oz by L. Frank Baum<br />• The Angel’s Command by Brian Jacques<br />• The Lady of Blossholme by H. Rider Haggard<br />• Jess by H. Rider Haggard<br />• The Carbonels by Charlotte M. Yonge<br />• Queen Sheba’s Ring by H. Rider Haggard<br />• Dorothy Dale: a girl of today by Margaret Penrose<br />• Dyke Darrel the Railroad Detective by A. Frank Pinkerton (pseudo.)<br />• Five Thousand Dollars Reward by A. Frank Pinkerton (pseudo.)<br />• Happy Pollyooly by Edgar Jepson<br />• Stolen Treasure by Howard Pyle<br />• The Slim Princess by George Ade<br />• The Ice-Maiden: and Other Tales by Hans Christian Andersen<br />• The Little Colonel: Maid of Honor by Annie Fellows Johnston<br />• The Little Colonel’s Chum: Mary Ware by Annie Fellows Johnston<br />• Mary Ware in Texas by Annie Fellows Johnston<br />• Mary Ware’s Promised Land by Annie Fellows Johnston<br />• The Little Colonel’s House Party by Annie Fellows Johnston<br />• The Little Colonel’s Holidays by Annie Fellows Johnston<br />• The Little Colonel’s Hero by Annie Fellows Johnston<br />• The Little Colonel at Boarding School by Annie Fellows Johnston<br />• The Little Colonel’s Knight Comes Riding by Annie Fellows Johnston<br />• The Golden Slipper: and other problems for Violet Strange by Anna Katharine Green<br />• The Purple Heights by Marie Conway Oemler<br />• T. Tembarom by Frances Hodgson Burnett<br />• The Bronze Hand by Anna Katharine Green<br />• A Difficult Problem by Anna Katharine Green<br />• The Circular Study by Anna Katharine Green<br />• The Mill Mystery by Anna Katharine Green<br />• Initials Only by Anna Katharine Green<br />• The ‘Mind the Paint’ Girl by Arthur Wing Pinero<br />• The Boy Scout Camera Club, or, the Confession of a Photograph by G. Harvey Ralphson<br />• A Semester in the Life of a Garbage Bag by Gordon Korman<br />• The Contest (Everest series) by Gordon Korman<br />• The Climb (Everest series) by Gordon Korman<br />• The Summit (Everest series) by Gordon KormanKirkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000788491850052802noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094379665566746725.post-36658367415539539212007-12-19T21:29:00.001-05:002008-01-01T14:53:35.045-05:00The Little Colonel's House Party<a href="http://www.littlecolonel.com/Books/HouseParty/"><i>The Little Colonel's House Party</i></a> is written by Annie Fellows Johnston. It is the fourth book in the Little Colonel series.<br /><br />This story is about the house party of Lloyd Sherman, nicknamed the Little Colonel (see the first book in the series: <a href="http://digital.library.upenn.edu/women/johnston/colonel/colonel.html"><i>The Little Colonel</i></a>) and takes place in Kentucky. Three girls, Betty, Joyce, and Eugenia, came to spend the summer with her and her mother, Mrs. Sherman. Mr. Sherman and the Old Colonel, Lloyd's grandfather, had business in Virginia over the summer, so Mrs. Sherman and Lloyd would be home alone for a bit. As a treat, her mother let her have the house party.<br /><br />The first to arrive was Elizabeth Lloyd Lewis, or Betty. Betty was a sweet little girl, much loved by everyone who knew her, who entertains writing ambitions. She came from the country where she had been staying with her aunt and uncle, being an orphan. Her mother had been a great friend of Mrs. Sherman's. Mrs. Sherman was Betty's godmother.<br /><br />Betty came in a bonnet and carried very few clothes, but Lloyd and Mrs. Sherman took care of her embarrassment quickly. She lost some of her country manners but not her sweetness before the other guests arrived.<br /><br />The second guest to arrive was Joyce Ware. (She has a story all her own in <a href="http://www.littlecolonel.com/Books/GiantScissors/"><i>The Giant Scissors</i></a>.) Her mother was also a great friend of Mrs. Sherman's, but Mrs. Ware was a poor widow living out west for her health. Joyce loved drawing and painting and planning all sorts of fun. She quickly made friends with Betty and Lloyd.<br /><br />The third and last girl to come was Eugenia Forbes from New York City. She was Lloyd's cousin and they hated each other when they were little, but her mother had died and Mrs. Sherman insisted on inviting her so she would not be lonely during the summer. Eugenia was a spoiled only child who got pretty much whatever she wanted from her father.<br /><br />The four girls learned much that summer together. When three out of the four caught measles from going to a gypsy camp against orders, Betty and Mrs. Sherman plan many good things to cheer them up. Later Betty fell ill from helping her friends, though she herself did not go to the gypsy camp. The sickness threatened her eyes and caused great dismay amongst the other girls, particularly Eugenia because it had been mostly her fault that they went to the camp at all. The girls learned the story of the <a href="http://www.littlecolonel.com/Books/HouseParty/Chapter13.htm">Road of the Loving Heart</a> and the danger to Betty's eyes was averted.<br /><br />The girls promise to try their best to follow the story of the Road of the Loving Heart and they each get a gold ring with a love knot and the word "<a href="http://www.littlecolonel.com/Books/HouseParty/Chapter13.htm">Tusitala</a>" engraved on the inside to remind them always.<br /><br />I enjoyed the story, though it is written for younger children. I have read a number of these stories, but I chiefly like the smaller stories told inside of them such as "The Road of the Loving Heart" in this one. It is these which make the books worthwhile to read.Kirkhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00000788491850052802noreply@blogger.com0