Book tag: The End

29. Saddest character death OR best/most satisfying character death (or both!)

How about the saddest?


That would be Sherlock Holmes...it seemed so real, almost as if a real person had died.  I was a serious little girl, who never cried over books at that age; but nonetheless, I was pretty heartbroken. 

Another sad death was that of you-know-who in A Tale of Two Cities; it was especially intense since I didn't see it coming.  Then there were the two deaths (SPOILER IN WHITE:  Boromir and Gandalf)  in The Fellowship of the Ring, and two of my favorite characters (Gandalf and Frodo) virtually dying at the end of The Return of the King.  Nobody writes death scenes like Tolkien, that's for sure.

30. The End: do you prefer everything tied up or to be able to 'make up your own mind'? What is the worst ending to a book you have read? And the best? (careful, spoiler tags!)

Generally, I prefer complete endings that leave no more questions, as in Jane Eyre and Bleak House; but on the other hand, I love the bittersweet, ambiguous ending of Eugene Onegin, which leaves the characters' futures up to the reader to decide (and interpretations, from what I've heard, vary drastically).  It's such a perfect ending for that story, full of "poetic justice" but not engraved-in-stone. 

Probably the absolutely worst ending I ever read was in Johnny Tremain, which ends *right before* he enters the battle.  It doesn't even tell whether he "gets the girl" (who isn't that nice anyway).  So annoying.  Romeo and Juliet had a terrible ending, too--not even romantic.  Moby-Dick...well, it has one of those excellent endings that you hate.  It completes the story with a dose of realism, but I think it's tragic that (Starbuck) died.

Apart from Eugene Onegin and A Tale of Two Cities, I can think of at least two other books with outstanding endings:  The Lord of the Rings and Kidnapped.  Both are real tearjerkers.  SPOILER:  Nobody exactly dies...in Kidnapped, the journey ends and Alan has to go into hiding again; in LOTR, Frodo and Gandalf (the characters who began the story) both leave to go to the Undying Lands (fictional parallel to Heaven)...Gandalf, because "his work is done", and Frodo, because he is physically and emotionally dying from his battle with the Ring.  But they're not just sad for melodrama's sake...Kidnapped's ending is about how "life goes on", and LOTR reminds you that, in the real world, happy endings come at a price for those who make them happen.  I guess the ideal book ending, to me, is "bittersweetly ever after".

Read More

Book tag! {part 22 - 28}

Well, I have major catching up to do!   :P

22. Your "comfort" book

I have about four, actually...the book of Psalms (KJV), Kidnapped, The Encyclopedia Sherlockiana, and The Federalist Papers (seriously). 

23. Favourite book cover including a picture!

Here's some of them (wait 10 seconds for the next batch):

24. Favourite fictional relationship (romantic, friendship, familial)

Oh, that's impossibly hard.  How about one of each?  (And that still doesn't include all my faves.)


Romantic:  Lucy Snowe and Prof. Emanuel (Villette, C. Bronte).  At first, all I could think was "How does she ever fall in love with such a rude, authoritarian guy?"  But, of course, the professor has a nice side, she falls in love with him, and I ended up rooting for them, too.  I especially admire how they ultimately respect each other's differences and don't try to convert/change each other.
Friendship:  Alan Breck Stewart and Davey Balfour (Kidnapped, Stevenson).  Alan is egotistical and Davey is self-righteous...they have a hard time getting along.  But in the end, they become as close as brothers and stick by each other no matter what.  My favorite chapter in the whole book is "The Quarrel", because it illustrates the very worst and best moments of their friendship.
Familial:  The Holmes brothers (Sherlock and Mycroft).  Ahem, there's no sibling rivalry between them (yes, BBC writers, I'm glaring at you).  Mycroft governs England, Sherlock polices it.  Sherlock genuinely believes Mycroft's the smarter brother, and Mycroft isn't ashamed to say that Sherlock "has all the energy of the family".  Sherlock even seems to trust Mycroft more than Watson.  So even if they don't meet but a few times a year, I think Mycroft and Sherlock--in their own eccentric way--are pretty close siblings, not to mention two of the coolest in fiction.  ;)

25. Most annoying character ever

Mary Russell, from The Beekeeper's Apprentice (Laurie King).  Most obnoxious, irritating, cringeworthy character EVER.  And then King marries her off to my favoritest character in the world...who, by the by, is old enough to be Mary's grandfather.  O_O

Honorable mentions:  all the main characters in Wuthering Heights.  Oh, and Ishmael in Moby-Dick.

26. Most quotable novel or 5 of your favourite quotes from any books.

Some of my faves:

- "I never make exceptions.  An exception disproves the rule." (Sherlock Holmes)  {A bit narrow-minded, but I love the mathematical spirit behind it.}
- "'I will have no man in my boat,' said Starbuck, 'who is not afraid of a whale.' By this, he seemed to mean, not only that the most reliable and useful courage was that which arises from the fair estimation of the encountered peril, but that an utterly fearless man is a far more dangerous comrade than a coward."  And later on:  "Starbuck was no crusader after perils; in him courage was not a sentiment; but a thing simply useful to him, and always at hand upon all mortally practical occasions."  (Moby-Dick)
-  "I don't know that I care much about living on and on after everyone I know is dead. I'd rather live an ordinary time and die and go to Heaven."  (Digory, The Magician's Nephew)
- "No man of sense who has been generally improved, and has improved himself, can be called quite uneducated as to anything."  (Doyce, Little Dorrit)  

27. Any five books from your "to be read" stack. What makes you select a book for your “to be read” stack?

Hornblower and the Hotspur, The Mark of Zorro, The Children of Hurin, The Mystery of Edwin Drood, and War and Peace.  (More complete list here.)

How do I compile my reading list?  It's an interesting question...  People probably think that I only read classic lit--which is mostly true, but I don't mean to boast or appear snobbish about it, because I'm not.  It's more of a result than a cause--older books tend to have better morals, less chance of objectionable content.  I'll gladly give a contemporary book a try, but so often I've had to give up on it, that it's much easier just to stick to the classics.  So it's my concern about content, rather than any sense of "elitism", that I read classic lit. 

Besides that aspect, it's hard to say how I select a book...variety's the keyword, I guess.  There's books I feel I ought to read...Beowulf, Shakespeare, Greek classics.  (Though Shakespeare gets on my nerves...)  Then there's the "Boy's Own" adventure books, a great genre.  Sci-fi, sea-stories, and those grittier kinds of adventure stories are even better, not to mention highly educational.  Romance stories...good ones are hard to find, but I like them.  Detective fiction is always interesting.  Historical fiction, if well-written, is good.  And finally there's the weirder stuff, like Kafka and Wells, which (if it's good) joins my favorites, just because it got me to think outside the box.  Oh, and one more--Joseph Conrad.  He writes about psychology/life/people like nobody else I've read.  And I couldn't rave enough about his amazing writing style...

In the past, I used to read one series or author for weeks before moving on.  I don't do that as much, anymore, but I still like reading by authors...I like getting a good understanding of their beliefs, perspective, era, and style; and that's what makes the connection between the works of any great author.

Lately, too, one of my goals has been to branch out and read classics from a broader range of countries, not just England.  So more Russian, American, Italian, Spanish, and French books will be showing up on my reading list.  :)   

28. Some firsts: First book you remember loving/being obsessed with. First book that made you cry. First book you gave to someone else as a gift.

- I think it was either The Chronicles of Narnia or the Trixie Belden series...don't remember which came first.  Narnia...pretty self-explanatory.  Trixie Belden, because the mysteries are really good, the supporting characters are lovable, and Trixie herself is very clever, brave, and stubborn (in a good way).  Very underrated series.
- A Tale of Two Cities, maybe?  I know I was all weepy at the end of The Return of the King.  But who wouldn't be, after 1000 pages of drama, and my top two favorite characters practically dying... 
- The Boxcar Children: Mountain Top Mystery, to my brother.

Read More

Concerning movie & book reviews

Question for my readers--would it be a good idea to open up a new blog, just for book reviews?  I've always posted them here; but they kind of get lost amongst all the other posts, and it would be nice if they were organised more neatly.  On the other hand, an extra blog might be inconvenient to followers.  On the other hand, not everyone reads book reviews, and those who do might find it more convenient if the reviews were all in one place.  What do you think?  :) 

Now, poll results...

Sewing projects	4 (44%)
Book review	5 (55%)
Movie/TV review	9 (100%)
Music videos	2 (22%)
Writing tips/discussion	6 (66%)
Thought-provoking	3 (33%)
Art	3 (33%)
Photos	3 (33%)
Quotes	4 (44%)
Tags/quizzes	6 (66%)
Random	4 (44%)
Other (comment & let me know!)	0 (0%)

Votes so far: 9

...indicate that more movie/TV reviews would be cool with everyone.  I'll be posting some for Jane Eyre (2011) and Alice in Wonderland (2010), one of these days.  Any specific costume dramas you'd like me to review?  I can't guarantee anything, but I'll consider all ideas, especially if they're on my list of faves.  ;)

Read More

Book Review: The Mysterious Mr Quin

by Agatha Christie
My overall rating:  3 out of 5 stars.  Mixed feelings.

Polite, elderly Mr Satterthwaite lives a luxurious, carefree, and rather humdrum life--or so he thinks.  He is ever the people-watcher, the friend of the rich and famous, and the patron of the arts.  The man who knows everyone and what they do, but who never seems to do anything interesting himself.

That all changes when a stranger shows up at a New Year's Eve party, one stormy evening.  Mr Harley Quin is a tall, quiet, and melancholy gentleman, who says very little but appears to be able to direct conversations--and sometimes actions--at his will, and all toward the purpose of clearing up some mystery.  He strikes up a friendship with Mr Satterthwaite; and half-consciously Mr Satterthwaite finds that he, too, can solve the mysteries of the lives around him, when Mr Quin helps him "see things".  But Mr Quin never stays long.  He "comes and goes", and Mr Satterthwaite never quite knows when or where he will see him next.

My thoughts:  What do you do when you're recovering from wisdom teeth extraction?  Well, you read the books you hadn't finished but always meant to finish.  For me, that was Mr Quin--a series of short stories by the "Queen of Crime", Agatha Christie.  Having read the Miss Marple, Tommy & Tuppence, and (most of) the Poirot books, I had certain expectations; but I was also looking forward to something a bit different.



The stories themselves, though incredibly unlikely, were certainly page-turners (though I did skip the two that involved the seance stuff).  Most of them had the typical Agatha Christie-style tragedy, but some of them had happy endings.  Nothing much different than the Poirot and Marple stories, except that, maybe, these stories were even more focused on past actions/events.  And without a real detective, there's a bigger sense of the fantasy side of things, resulting in a slightly darker atmosphere.

I really liked Mr Satterthwaite, for the most part.  He's inwardly nosy, extremely gallant, hates discomfort, and is forever visiting wealthy people or the Continent (think "Moment of Luxury" and you've got his life in a nutshell).  On the other hand, he has a good understanding of human nature, and he's not afraid to speak up and play his part "in the drama".  Interesting character, probably one of Christie's best. 

The most disappointing aspect of the book is Mr Quin himself.  Now, for most of the stories, I thought he was a great character.  Handsome, clever, "mysterious", solving mysteries, preventing suicides...he seemed very likeable.  But the last story (it's always the last one, isn't it?) was downright bizarre and almost changed my mind 180 degrees.  I say "almost", because I'm not sure it fits in with the rest of the book--it's more like what fanfic writers call AU (alternate universe).  I strongly suspect this last story was just a whim of the author--it was that out of character for Mr Quin.  SPOILERS IN WHITE:  The last story implied, and not very subtly, that Mr Quin led another character to her death.  That's right...literally led, and I'm not kidding.  Mr Satterthwaite freaks out at the idea (and rightly so!), and the story just ends with Mr Quin disappearing.  Disturbing.

And who is this guy, anyway?  Mr Quin is sometimes referred to as a "friend of lovers"; and the Harlequin ballet character in the last story is referred to as the "eternal lover" or something like that.  Hm.  It is also implied (in at least one story) that Mr Quin might be some spiritual being.  Not only does that change the whole nature of the series, but it's rather disturbing and subsequently irritating.

Supposedly, Quin and Satterthwaite were two of Christie's favorite characters; and she even dedicated the Quin mysteries to the title character, Harley Quin.  Maybe she saw him as representing some kind of tragic, romantic hero (he's always described as sad).  If this were the case, it would explain why he is more of a fantastical character than a real person, and it would also partly explain Mr Quin's creepiness in the last story (though not to any more credit on his part).

I think there's always a danger of assigning the wrong roles to your characters, and thereby changing them until they contradict themselves.  By having Mr Quin go from being a behind-the-scenes philanthropist to a ghostly being who symbolizes some bizarre kind of love, he loses the nobility of his character.  He's reduced to being a mere outlet for pathos and morbidity. 

Back on topic...  ;)  I guess it's this odd combination of fantasy (or is it wizardry?) with detective story that bugs me.  In the big picture, the mysteries are like any other Agatha Christie's.  But within these mysteries, you'll come across these weird little things that make you uncomfortable.  Overall, I enjoyed most of the mysteries, and I've read enough Christie to know not to take it all seriously.  But I'd suggest skipping the seance stories ("Voice in the Dark" and "Bird With the Broken Wings").  As for the last story, I'd be very glad to hear other people's thoughts/interpretations.

Read More

First PHOTOS from The Hobbit!!

Click here.  Three photos, no less!

Cinematography, costumes, Bag End...it looks amazing.  It's possible, of course, that this mightn't be an actual screencap, just an early promo photo.  Nevertheless, it's very exciting...  And my sister and I have been following this production for a year or two now, so December 2012 doesn't seem like much of a wait to me.  ;)

What do you think of the photos?

Read More

The admirable life

I can't write.

Not at the moment, anyway.  I've had this writer's block for two weeks now--or maybe longer?  When it's this bad, there's isn't much to be done about it...I'm not one of those people who, in this state of things, can sit down and hammer out words. 



With mild writer's block, maybe.  Even then, it's not the best.  Forcing yourself to write doesn't work too nicely for me.  It's too mathematical, ends up sounding dry and heartless, like "plugging in values for x and y". 

Last year, on recollection, I think I did pretty well.  From around December '09 through around May or June '10, I worked consistently, nearly every week, on my first real novel (Calantha).  I got about 2/3 through, which wasn't bad for someone more experienced in short stories.  It was only a first draft, and not terribly good; but the mere consistency of my writing habits was encouraging (as was the page count, I'll admit).   

And then what?  Well, I don't know what went wrong, but ever since then, my writing's been pretty much sporadic.  Within the same amount of time--from December '10 to now--I haven't accomplished anything much.  Some new ideas, yes...but that's all. You'd think that, with such a long break, I'd be ready to write again, by now...  Apparently not.

It gets to the point where you start imagining what it would be like to give up writing and just stick to your school-year studies.  Just worry about your grades and nothing else.  Just get one, normal job and nothing else.

Scary thought, to me...but why should it be?  That's what most people do.  Open your quarterly magazine from the local center of academia, and you'll find all sorts of men and women who have earned status and honor in all sorts of professional fields--most of which, if you can pronounce them, you still couldn't begin to understand.  Fields as intricate as studies of particular shellfish and the purpose of their existence, which required the individual to spend an enormous amount of time just gathering data.  Latin drifts smoothly through their speech; they know what they are talking about and they are respected for it.  They gain experience, exalted careers, recognition from the government.  Their work does good in some area of life, of public life.  They will have reasons to retire with a sense of having done that good...and all in that normal job that they stuck to most dedicatedly.

It's a genuinely admirable life, and it's not for me.  But why not?  I couldn't say exactly.  I do know that the idea of it--applied to me--makes writing, however hopeless it often seems, to appear more and more worth the effort, even as a side-career.  Strange that writing in obscurity, and all the extra work it entails, should sound somehow comforting and worthwhile, but so it does.

I don't even know if I ought to post this, as it sounds like one long, silly complaint/rant/wail from a very pretentious young person who ought to be doing something useful instead.  However, just to prove that I'm not entirely silly, here's a good poem--not entirely off topic--that's well-worth the five minutes to read.  It's called "Resolution and Independence", by Wordsworth:


I

There was a roaring in the wind all night;
The rain came heavily and fell in floods;
But now the sun is rising calm and bright;
The birds are singing in the distant woods;
Over his own sweet voice the Stock-dove broods;
The Jay makes answer as the Magpie chatters;
And all the air is filled with pleasant noise of waters.

II

All things that love the sun are out of doors;
The sky rejoices in the morning's birth;
The grass is bright with rain-drops;--on the moors
The hare is running races in her mirth;
And with her feet she from the plashy earth
Raises a mist, that, glittering in the sun,
Runs with her all the way, wherever she doth run.

III

I was a Traveller then upon the moor,
I saw the hare that raced about with joy;
I heard the woods and distant waters roar;
Or heard them not, as happy as a boy:
The pleasant season did my heart employ:
My old remembrances went from me wholly;
And all the ways of men, so vain and melancholy.

IV

But, as it sometimes chanceth, from the might
Of joy in minds that can no further go,
As high as we have mounted in delight
In our dejection do we sink as low;
To me that morning did it happen so;
And fears and fancies thick upon me came;
Dim sadness--and blind thoughts, I knew not, nor could name.

V

I heard the sky-lark warbling in the sky;
And I bethought me of the playful hare:
Even such a happy Child of earth am I;
Even as these blissful creatures do I fare;
Far from the world I walk, and from all care;
But there may come another day to me--
Solitude, pain of heart, distress, and poverty.

VI

My whole life I have lived in pleasant thought,
As if life's business were a summer mood;
As if all needful things would come unsought
To genial faith, still rich in genial good;
But how can He expect that others should
Build for him, sow for him, and at his call
Love him, who for himself will take no heed at all?

VII

I thought of Chatterton, the marvellous Boy,
The sleepless Soul that perished in his pride;
Of Him who walked in glory and in joy
Following his plough, along the mountain-side:
By our own spirits are we deified:
We Poets in our youth begin in gladness;
But thereof come in the end despondency and madness.

VIII

Now, whether it were by peculiar grace,
A leading from above, a something given,
Yet it befell, that, in this lonely place,
When I with these untoward thoughts had striven,
Beside a pool bare to the eye of heaven
I saw a Man before me unawares:
The oldest man he seemed that ever wore grey hairs.

IX

As a huge stone is sometimes seen to lie
Couched on the bald top of an eminence;
Wonder to all who do the same espy,
By what means it could thither come, and whence;
So that it seems a thing endued with sense:
Like a sea-beast crawled forth, that on a shelf
Of rock or sand reposeth, there to sun itself;

X

Such seemed this Man, not all alive nor dead,
Nor all asleep--in his extreme old age:
His body was bent double, feet and head
Coming together in life's pilgrimage;
As if some dire constraint of pain, or rage
Of sickness felt by him in times long past,
A more than human weight upon his frame had cast.

XI

Himself he propped, limbs, body, and pale face,
Upon a long grey staff of shaven wood:
And, still as I drew near with gentle pace,
Upon the margin of that moorish flood
Motionless as a cloud the old Man stood,
That heareth not the loud winds when they call
And moveth all together, if it move at all.

XII

At length, himself unsettling, he the pond
Stirred with his staff, and fixedly did look
Upon the muddy water, which he conned,
As if he had been reading in a book:
And now a stranger's privilege I took;
And, drawing to his side, to him did say,
"This morning gives us promise of a glorious day."

XIII

A gentle answer did the old Man make,
In courteous speech which forth he slowly drew:
And him with further words I thus bespake,
"What occupation do you there pursue?
This is a lonesome place for one like you."
Ere he replied, a flash of mild surprise
Broke from the sable orbs of his yet-vivid eyes,

XIV

His words came feebly, from a feeble chest,
But each in solemn order followed each,
With something of a lofty utterance drest--
Choice word and measured phrase, above the reach
Of ordinary men; a stately speech;
Such as grave Livers do in Scotland use,
Religious men, who give to God and man their dues.

XV

He told, that to these waters he had come
To gather leeches, being old and poor:
Employment hazardous and wearisome!
And he had many hardships to endure:
From pond to pond he roamed, from moor to moor;
Housing, with God's good help, by choice or chance,
And in this way he gained an honest maintenance.

XVI

The old Man still stood talking by my side;
But now his voice to me was like a stream
Scarce heard; nor word from word could I divide;
And the whole body of the Man did seem
Like one whom I had met with in a dream;
Or like a man from some far region sent,
To give me human strength, by apt admonishment.

XVII

My former thoughts returned: the fear that kills;
And hope that is unwilling to be fed;
Cold, pain, and labour, and all fleshly ills;
And mighty Poets in their misery dead.
--Perplexed, and longing to be comforted,
My question eagerly did I renew,
How is it that you live, and what is it you do?"

XVIII

He with a smile did then his words repeat;
And said, that, gathering leeches, far and wide
He travelled; stirring thus about his feet
The waters of the pools where they abide.
"Once I could meet with them on every side;
But they have dwindled long by slow decay;
Yet still I persevere, and find them where I may."

XIX

While he was talking thus, the lonely place,
The old Man's shape, and speech--all troubled me:
In my mind's eye I seemed to see him pace
About the weary moors continually,
Wandering about alone and silently.
While I these thoughts within myself pursued,
He, having made a pause, the same discourse renewed.

XX

And soon with this he other matter blended,
Cheerfully uttered, with demeanour kind,
But stately in the main; and when he ended,
I could have laughed myself to scorn to find
In that decrepit Man so firm a mind.
"God," said I, "be my help and stay secure;
I'll think of the Leech-gatherer on the lonely moor!"

Read More

Book Review (short): Round the Red Lamp

Round the Red Lamp, Being Facts and Fancies of Medical Life
by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
My overall rating:  5 out of 5 stars

Round the Red Lamp is not a novel, but a collection of short stories.  Each is somehow connected with doctors and their work, of the late Victorian era; but beyond that, they hold few similarities.  Nostalgia, romance, horror, comedy, science-fiction, realism--the genres vary drastically from story to story, with plots ranging from the heartwarming to the nerve-wracking.  And oftentimes, the reader can only guess at what is Fact and what is Fancy.

The subject of Victorian doctors may sound, at a glance, boring; but I found this book to be a real page-turner and excellent reading (with a couple of exceptions).  I especially loved the "day in the life" stories that seemed firmly based on reality (i.e. "His First Operation", "A Medical Document"), and the hilarious "A False Start", about a young doctor desperate for patients.  "Lot No. 249"--a creepy, Egyptian mummy story set in Oxford--is probably my favorite.  And "A Physiologist's Wife" was another one that stood out to me, such a sad story.

As in the Sherlock Holmes series, Doyle's writing style is particularly powerful in the short story format.  Within a few pages, you can go from disliking a character to liking them; and the action flows naturally, with plenty of witty dialogue and vivid, but efficient, description.  The characters, too, are very life-like, especially for a short story.  I don't know how he does it, but it's genius... 

Recommended for anybody who likes late-Victorian lit.

Read More