"No, I understand now," Auberon said, calm in the woods - it was so simple, really. "I didn't for a long time, but I do now. You just can't hold people, you can't own them. I mean it's only natural, a natural process really. Meet. Love. Part. Life goes on. There was never any reason to expect her to stay always the same - I mean 'in love,' you know." There were those doubt quotes of Smoky's, heavily indicated. "I don't hold a grudge. I can't."
"You do," Grandfather Trout said. "And you don't understand."
Little, Big is not the type of book I normally read.
I rarely reread books.
I almost never buy books.
Two Thousand Four, the year I originally read Little, Big was a tough year. Despite doing unimportant work that was being done only to placate unimportant managers, I was almost fired for taking scheduled time off. My scheduled time off was for deer hunting - and I couldn't buy a vision of a deer that year despite spending more cumulative hours in the woods than I had in many seasons.
I had seen some references to Little, Big and so I got it from inter-library loan to read during the last few wretched days of the year.
I haven't read very much this year, but I've reread several books. One book that kept calling was Little, Big by John Crowley. Because my local library system doesn't have this book, I bought it used from Amazon. Used books from Amazon are amazing; I think the near-new book cost a couple dollars with a similar amount for shipping. If I was going to reread it, I knew I needed to keep this book on hand, since inter-library loans take too much time when it involves books that are outside of my norm. It sat on a shelf for much of the year until some time off this past week (coincidentally also due to deer hunting - although more successfully than 2004).
I know the 2004 and 2016 books are the same script, but the 12 years difference illustrates how time and place affect what is actually contained in the words. Things now are both bigger and smaller than they were in 2004.
Concepts from the book that I took away as critically important in 2004 were present but played a diminished role in the Tale overall. The entire story flowed so much more completely than it did during the first embodiment. And while, like much fantasy fiction, there are extended passages of descriptions and alliteration, it adds to the story in a way that sawdust filler does not in much fiction. I recall parts of the book as a hard slog on first read. This past week, I put off other important stuff only so that I could finish the book.
"Grow up? No. Well. In a sense. You see it's inevitable, or refuse to. You greet it or don't - take it in trade, maybe, for all you're going to lose anyway. Or you can refuse, and have what you've got to lose snatched from you, and never take payment - never see a trade is possible.”
There are synopses of the book elsewhere, so no need to recreate one here, but the Tale follows a family through many generations. Love. Loss. Marriage. Death. Infidelity. Birth. Hints of incest. Wealth. Poverty. Power. Astrology. Fish.
My biggest dislike with the book? Why does so much fiction have to be set in fucking New York??? Other places really do exist - even a few states that start with the letter I. The book does end both in and not in New York.
Looking through the list of books I've read over the last decade-plus (yes, I keep a list), there are quite a few which might be considered fantasy fiction - which surprised me. I didn't think I read fantasy fiction... But Little, Big remains the only one I've read twice as an adult.
The end of the Tale is much more coherent than I recall from my first reading - so much so that I sometimes can't help but wonder if the book hasn't greatly changed, grown older or moved to a new place, in the last 12 years.
I'm not sure if I'll ever read Little, Big a third time. But if it does call again, I'll keep a copy waiting. I'm sure it will be both bigger and smaller.
The cold compassion of bartenders, he came to see, was like that of priests: universal rather than personal, with charity for all and malice toward almost none. Firmly situated … between sacrament and communicant, they commanded rather than earned love, trust, dependence.
TJ's Blog. Just my (nearly) weekly musings on life, on stuff. This is about what is important in life. But, more important, it is about what is not important.
Wednesday, November 23, 2016
Saturday, November 5, 2016
Election Yard Signs are Stupid
As the grass dies and the leaves change, election yard signs spring up out of the ground. Their crop value is quite limited however.
On my drive to work, there is one - and only one - yard sign for some faceless candidate who has the same last name as a coworker. I feel compelled to steal this sign and put it in his cubicle. This behavior, theft of yard signs, has been interpreted as quashing free speech and has been punished with legal ramifications, so I've resisted, despite the brief humor it would provide. Humor in politics, or at work, is more important than legislation at this point.
As I've contemplated this yard sign, I'm struck by how stupid yard signs really are. Has anyone ever driven down the road as a die hard Hillary Clinton supporter and seen a Donald Trump yard sign and said, "Gosh, that is a lovely Tudor, therefore I'm going to vote for Trump!"
Nope.
Not gonna happen.
Maybe signs help name recognition? I don't buy that either. If Helen Keller were still alive, even she would be sick of Clinton v. Trump by this point.
It appears there have been studies that attempted to measure the value of yard signs. The result is, at best, not statistically significant and I'm not sure I even believe the trivial differences observed.
Yard signs are the equivalent of the CoExist bumper sticker on the Subaru Outback or the Buckmark on the Chevy Silverado. They are merely decorative ornamentation that further defines an already defined individual. While I may, or may not, have strong feelings on any given subject, I am frightened by anyone who can communicate their most deeply held beliefs in the space of a yard sign or bumper sticker.
Shortly after the yard sign by the candidate with the same last name as my coworker is another series of signs for two opposing candidates for some other office. This is in a demilitarized zone between two interstates and immediately on either side of the sign for Candidate A, someone put signs for Candidate B. I guess this is less illegal than removing Candidate A's sign? I'm quite sure that whoever did this was probably quite smug about his or her attempt at political cleverness...
Election yard signs are stupid.
Thankfully, in a few days our "long national nightmare" will be over - or it will have just begun.
Winter winds will sweep away dead leaves and a few dead candidate yard signs. Candidates should be personally responsible for every yard sign, to ensure it is disposed of promptly and appropriately. This would give both the winners and losers something useful to do after the election.
On my drive to work, there is one - and only one - yard sign for some faceless candidate who has the same last name as a coworker. I feel compelled to steal this sign and put it in his cubicle. This behavior, theft of yard signs, has been interpreted as quashing free speech and has been punished with legal ramifications, so I've resisted, despite the brief humor it would provide. Humor in politics, or at work, is more important than legislation at this point.
As I've contemplated this yard sign, I'm struck by how stupid yard signs really are. Has anyone ever driven down the road as a die hard Hillary Clinton supporter and seen a Donald Trump yard sign and said, "Gosh, that is a lovely Tudor, therefore I'm going to vote for Trump!"
Nope.
Not gonna happen.
Maybe signs help name recognition? I don't buy that either. If Helen Keller were still alive, even she would be sick of Clinton v. Trump by this point.
It appears there have been studies that attempted to measure the value of yard signs. The result is, at best, not statistically significant and I'm not sure I even believe the trivial differences observed.
Yard signs are the equivalent of the CoExist bumper sticker on the Subaru Outback or the Buckmark on the Chevy Silverado. They are merely decorative ornamentation that further defines an already defined individual. While I may, or may not, have strong feelings on any given subject, I am frightened by anyone who can communicate their most deeply held beliefs in the space of a yard sign or bumper sticker.
Shortly after the yard sign by the candidate with the same last name as my coworker is another series of signs for two opposing candidates for some other office. This is in a demilitarized zone between two interstates and immediately on either side of the sign for Candidate A, someone put signs for Candidate B. I guess this is less illegal than removing Candidate A's sign? I'm quite sure that whoever did this was probably quite smug about his or her attempt at political cleverness...
Election yard signs are stupid.
Thankfully, in a few days our "long national nightmare" will be over - or it will have just begun.
Winter winds will sweep away dead leaves and a few dead candidate yard signs. Candidates should be personally responsible for every yard sign, to ensure it is disposed of promptly and appropriately. This would give both the winners and losers something useful to do after the election.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)