Attack
of the deadline monster!
Things will be sporadic to nonexistent around these parts for the rest of the week.
Oh, and my literary pen name is: Karen B. Rabbit. Eh.
of the deadline monster!
Things will be sporadic to nonexistent around these parts for the rest of the week.
Oh, and my literary pen name is: Karen B. Rabbit. Eh.
I'm busy with other things today, but John DeNardo was nice enough to include me in the responses for the latest Mind Meld question: "It seems that more and more, fiction marketed as "Young Adult" deals with mature themes. Has it crossed a line? Is young adult sf/f is too explicit?"
My answer is basically: No. Follow the link to see more thoughtful responses, and, er, the expected comment from one John C. Wright.
I am behind on everything -- if I owe you a letter, a read, something interview-related, etcetera, etcetera, it will come but slowly. I'm in revisionland, both for the novel and the critical thesis, and knee-deep in the final throes of Tiptree reading. And the cold keeps resurging. All this adds up to one pushing-everything-that's-not-on-fire-aside type of girl.
#
Last night we had lovely sushi at Tomo (Lexington has great sushi), which did a fairly recent remodel to--among other things--install fancy Japanese toilets with heated seats and a bunch of other features. That, of course, has nothing to do with the food (good as always), but was a memorable change.
I finished reading Wit's End over dinner, stopping to read particularly delightful sections (Lord of the Rings Trivial Pursuit!) aloud to Christopher. It's a book that makes me very, very happy.
#
Can I tell you how much I love the new car? Lots.
We decided to name it using a strategy based on Pullman's daemons. I'd give it the name Christopher has to use, a girl's name; Christopher would do the same for me, giving it a boy's name that I use.
So the car is either Claudette Colbert or Mario Cipollini, depending on who's talking. Mario or Claude for short.
Until this critical thesis draft is done, things'll be sparse around these parts (it's due Monday morning, so not that long). Today we bought a shiny new car*, which we pick up tomorrow. That isn't nearly as big as the news that Colleen Lindsay is henceforth an agent with FinePrint Literary Management (congratulate before querying!). Oh, and go over to Micol's and follow her instructions on helping save Teen Central by dropping a line to the NYPL.
That is all.
*Storm silver, if you must know. And I also love the fact that the commercial features giant eyeballs! And the fact that Slate and US News and World Report love it too!
It's hard to get real sleep when Emma the Dog is enduring tornado-warning conditions. We're fine and I think even our trees made it (must get that one trimmed this spring!), but I'm taking the day off from the blogger blog to yawn and finish up my Cybils jury reading. In the meantime, here's a weather story with meteorologists disagreeing, pretty much my favorite bloodsport.
I am -- hopefully, weather permitting -- headed home from Vermont today, arriving somewhere this side of midnight. I should be back here sometime tomorrow, but it could be Thursday. Play nice.
While more than ready to go home at this point, I have to say that this has been the best residency of my MFA program yet, and so I am taking lots of things home with me to think about and attempt. Eighteen or so amazing lectures will do that. Conversations in the hallway and in workshop and over dinner will do it too. I'm sure I'll have slightly more mixed feelings when I'm writing out the student loan payment checks in years to come, but for the moment I'm convinced this is the best investment I've ever made. I will admit to feeling some dread of the critical thesis semester before coming to Montpelier, even to a feeling of burnout... and yet, all that's gone, and I'm left only with the desire to do the work. That is something akin to magic.
And it's all because of the amazing faculty and students in this program. I can't recommend it highly enough.
More coherent thoughts when I'm resettled. Maybe.
Yeah, as you've noticed, no content here. I'll be back next week, just in time for the holidays. But there is:
No.
Time.
Now.
So I've got my 70 SPF sunscreen (almost) packed and have vowed to finish my novel and we're off tomorrow to Jamaica to beachify with friends... off so early it won't even be bright yet.
I don't plan on checking in here until we're back and recovered, which means late next week, though I might post some photos at Flickr. Now to decide what books to take with. Oh, the agony. (Also: Read Molly Gloss's new one, The Hearts of Horses, if you haven't, because it is FABULOUS.)
Be good.
Yeah, still horribly behind on email and lots of other stuff. It's probably going to get worse before it gets better, since I'm trying to finish my book this month (a draft of it, anyway), but I'll get to what I can. I beg your tolerance for my flightiness in the meantime, but something has to give...
...one of those weeks, dearies. Too much going on, not enough time to breathe let alone blog. I may pop in again a time or two, but I also may follow the example that the rest of the 'sphere seems to be setting and turn the lights down so low they're barely even on. (Except for over at the LBC, of course -- where you should definitely be checking out the various Jamestown-related festivities this week.)
I haven't managed to answer any e-mail yet, not even the nicest, best e-mails (especially those), and that's not likely before next week either, I'm afraid. Deadlines are sitting on top of me until then -- and they're not purring either.
But next week promises to be a bit livelier around here, what with Recommendations from Under the Radar Week and a drive-by from a completely marvelous author whose first book hits the shelves Tuesday (and who does a mean "Love Shack"). Until then.
I put up a ton of stuff yesterday, and so I am taking the rest of the week off, thank you very much, to finish my first packet of the semester and entertain Her Pinkness. Back on Mondayish.
Please do go browse through all the Aussie posts. They were fabulosity defined.
A little slow on the start here this morning, due to our neighborhood's brave, fireworks-loving souls who would not be silenced by mere rainstorms (inspiring, really)... much to the dogs' and cat's dismay and mine. Until the middle of the night.
I'm used to it by now, but will never lose my next-day resentment for the resulting tiredness and crankitude.
p.s. I suppose this was a day off then; I'm comforted by how many of us disgruntled day-after-the-Fourthers there are. Christopher just made the most amazing dinner of whole wheat fancy pasta, chicken, avocado, yellow tomato (from my little plant!), mango and probably something else. Yum, I say. The rest of the evening to errands and undemanding television. Back tomorrow. Probably.
Busy, busy, but I'll be back later today with -- gasp -- an actual post about several actual books I've read recently and liked. It's been too long since I've done that.
Why is it always so frenetic trying to get ready to leave town for a few days? Could it be because I put a bunch of stuff off and am now trying to get it done, along with the new stuff? Probably.
I answered not a stitch of email this weekend, so apologia for that. There was biking and brunch and squirting the little dog with half-vinegar, half-water solution to make him behave, and etcetera. I'm afraid there won't be much to see around here until we are ensconced in Madison, but I do plan to update from there with entries and photos and maybe even some videos.
Oh, also, Wiscon-goers -- we have never done the Sunday night dress up thing, but I'm considering bringing something fun this year. I have this Betsey Johnson fuschia and black tea length dress with a foofy tulle skirt that really deserves a night out. Too much?
p.s. This issue of Say...? Best. Ever. Seriously. Finishing up now. Available for purchase at the Small Beer table.
p.p.s. Okay, the foofy dress is coming along, assuming miraculously wonderful Carmen's dry cleaning can do a minor repair for the roses sewn along the neckline.
Emails from the last couple of weeks will be answered this weekend. Pinkie swear.
For disappearing again so soon. Lost in One of Those Days and to Writing the Novel, but I'll be back later with some Actual Content.
I wish.
Deadlines are circling, so I'm taking a few days off from this space. Back Monday.
I seem to have contracted the Deadly Revenge of Something. Back tomorrow (hopefully!).
In the meantime, check out Niall Harrison's excellent review of newly-minted Crawford Award winner M. Rickert's collection (my take here).
And no free wireless anywhere. Back Thursday. Or possibly Monday.
p.s. Portland is awesome!
p.p.s. Yeah, so I sprang for the in-room high speed. I'm a junkie, I know. And I still won't have time to post. But I am so loving this city: quick, someone offer me a job here.Dealing with car trouble and other crap that makes a girl snarl. Back tomorrow (hopefully) with a more rosy disposition. Until then, it's The Black Keys at full volume. Hope your day is less annoying.
I'm late, I'm incredibly busy, I'll try to throw up a real post later on.
In the meantime, after reading two books back to back for review assignments that I would never have read otherwise, I am mucho happy to be reading Andrea Seigel's To Feel Stuff. She gave her first "reading" in support of the book over the weekend, and there are pictures of the dancing. That's right: she danced. And plans to do so again. (At Book Soup on Tuesday.)
Would we be constantly moaning about the fate of the written word if more writers shook their thang for the masses? I think not.
Going dark for a day or so to play with my new toys and have dinner with people passing through the Commonwealth, etc. Back soon.
It's true -- it seems like everyone else is already at or on their way to BEA. I'm proudly representing the community of stragglers. I wing out early tomorrow morning and arrive mid-afternoon, or just in time to see a few people and grab a bite before the party hopping begins. (I'm bringing my pogo stick and my magic wand.) (Not really; too hard to explain to airport security.)
Anyway, I hope to see those of you who are/will be there when I get there. I'm not making any promises about blogging while away, though at this point I'm leaning toward taking a laptop. That could change if I need the room to pack my cowboy boots. So either back soon with BEA reports or back Sunday evening with BEA reports. (I'd bet on the latter.) Good weekends all.
I'm taking a few days off, likely back next week. I just didn't want to leave the sweet boy's entry at the top of the queue. Thanks to all who have called and written to us. It's a tremendous comfort in a time when we need tremendous comfort. Back later.
Didn't mean to go AWOL today, but we were dealing with some crises. The many fans of George Rowe the Dog, Poster Boy for American Values, My Attorney, will be pleased to hear that he seems to be rallying tonight -- gracefully excuting the eating, drinking and standing more or less upright we all know and love. We are breathing big sighs of relief; keep your fingers crossed. Real content to follow.
I owe quite a bit of email and feel kind of lousy and am busy, busy, busy.
But do expect a response over the weekend, which will be mostly spent furiously finishing up some reading, reading, reading for the LBC and the Fountain.
(That, over there on the left, is the Whitefronted Bee-eater eating an, um, bee.)
Because I don't have time for anything else at the moment.
V for Vendetta: I'll just agree with William Gibson. (LOVED it. Everyone should see it.) And, in case you don't want to track it down, here's a link to the excellent Cinema Blend review Gibson quotes.
Bones: I'll just agree with Hannah. (Seriously, that air guitar scene is one of my favorite things I've ever seen on TV.)
Still have this stupid cold (after this I am NEVER getting sick again; you hear me, germs?) and am busy so today is a day for excuses. Maybe some cat blogging later, if he'll sit still and let me take the picture. Some writing later; something new, something top secret because I'm not quite sure yet. Some sleeping.
And on Sunday, I'll join the other instigators here at Ed's fabulous live Oscar blog party. Do stop by.
I'm playing hooky for a couple of days to take care of some car trouble, do stuff, see my family and read. In the meantime, I stuck my blogthology story "Unflappable" up over on the little fake MySpace blog (friend me! or not), so you could read that if you didn't (or not). And I am completely in love with M.I.A.
Good weekends all.
Since the thing to do seems to be to stay very, very quiet, don't expect much here until next week. Yesterday, I crashed and burned after the 700-mile neverending odyssey that was Christmas (thanks for the Magnum), managing only to accomplish lunch with a friend and the pending tweaks to GG (word to the wise: make sure you haven't inadvertently skipped a chapter, like say eighteen, in numbering). Today the Magnum goes back to its Rental Home and I get my car back, and hopefully a new stereo installed. I have a terrible cold again, or perhaps it's just exhaustion.
My to-do list is just the right length for a long holiday weekend: getting a massage (a present even!), mailing some stuff, finishing up interviews for and writing a freelance piece, writing up my notes on a friend's most excellent novel, revisiting my Roanoke research and revising a short story. Oh, and somewhere in there drink champagne and resolve stuff. And see Syriana.
I may break in with an RIP for the Magnum and a list of things that made me happy this year. Then again, I may not. Either way, I wish you an enjoyable last few days of the year and a better next one.
Yes, we've been sucked into the holiday vortex. It looks as if it's a 72-hour journey to the other side this year, so see you late Monday. Much must be eaten to avoid getting trapped forever. (And the holiday bitchiness continues to grow at an alarming rate...)
Anyway, those at the right are less lame than me, so check them out in the meanwhile. Also, Jeff VanderMeer has put up a "kind of" holiday tale from the Secret Life, for your reading pleasure.
Last but not least, drop Mr. Rowe a holiday line or comment on his practically nonexistent birthday (aka TODAY), at CVROWEATGMAILDOTCOM or on any random entry over here. Sadly, he's still computerless so he may not respond right away, but he's sharing mine and frequenting the library so it won't be too long. And how lame is it that he gets no real birthday? Very, very.
And hey, hope you got some loot. You deserve it.
It's ChristopherGras*, so we're going out for Mexican food, the latest Realms of Fantasy (with Chris Barzak story, natch) and Narnia. I may even have a Christopherita or two. (Hmmm... I think Gwendarita works better.) Perhaps a post later, depending on the number of 'ritas.
*It has been pointed out to me that some people don't know what GwendaGras is, so they won't know what ChristopherGras is. Can such a thing be true? Figure it out, people! Where have you been?! It's called JULY**!!! Anyway, Christopher's birthday is actually on Xmas Day -- you still have time to buy him a brand new Apple laptop, which is what he needs as his is dead, dead, dead. (Address in the sidebar, imaginary good samaritans.)
**That's when my birthday is. July 12.
...is the kind we have!
The North Carolina contingency is en route, with the champions of the Northern Climes coming later on. (NC vs. NC, get it?) So, there'll probably be dust bunnies around here for the rest of the week. I'll try and snap some pics. In the meanwhile, have a happy T-day, everybody.
Nothing of substance here until later. Family obligations had us out of town all weekend and so there is much catching up to be done. I did manage to add some new items to all the sidebars on the left over the weekend, and, of course, you are always encouraged to visit those fine souls along the right.
*Intentional.
Okay, so, terribly behind on email and a number of other things. (Email will be answered tomorrow: promise!) We have a reading tomorrow night (I'll be doing one of the new and improved Girl's Gang chapters) and I have to write a crit for this evening. On Sunday, I'm off to Atlanta for a couple of days for a work thing and plan to hole up in my room for any loose ends time to (hopefully) put the Girl's Gang rewrite securely to bed and I need to work up some questions for an interview I'm doing for someplace that's not here, and on. SO, to be more succint, it's busy on this end of the dixie cup and you may not hear much from me until Wednesday or so. I'll try to poke my head in or pre-post a few things for Monday and Tuesday, but I'm not promising.
Just remember: I love you all. Have a nice weekend.
p.s. Check out Kirby Gann's most excellent answers to a few questions I sent him by way of Mr. Mumpsimus. Kirby Gann week was a great deal of fun, I think, and there's still an interesting thread in the comments of one of the posts about flawed books and perfect ones. Stop in and leave your own. I prefer less than perfect books myself, for the most part.
On the heels of the desperate nap need, comes a little bit of bleh. (I'm hoping it's just a little bit, anyway. I resent the very idea of a virus snatching away my weekend.)
So now, another nap, and reading Oh Pure and Radiant Heart and trying to bypass this weather I'm under. I suggest you check out those down and to the right, and do drop in on The Elegant Variation where writer Christian Bauman (whose Voodoo Lounge is very close to the top of my TBR pile) is holding court today.
Have a good Friday.
E. Lockhart: Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks, The
You might think the world doesn't need any more boarding school novels, but if you haven't read this one then you're wrong, wrong, wrong. E. Lockhart has surpassed herself with this fable of a girl coming into her own and challenging the boy's club at her prep school -- while falling in love with its members at the same time. Lockhart never simplifies or skirts gender issues and power dynamics, and lets Frankie be realistic instead of a treatise disguised as a character. The sly omniscient narrator tells the story perfectly, and leaves hope that maybe one girl can change the world. More novels as funny and true and perfect as this one, please.
Kathi Appelt: The Underneath
Appelt's first novel is a beautiful, magical fantasy for younger readers that will instantly become a classic. Seriously. I can imagine this book being in classrooms right alongside Charlotte's Web in a hundred years. The writing is poetic in the good way, and there's a lamia. Children are going to absolutely fall in love with Appelt's equally kind and brutal universe, where love conquers most, and it can take millenia to come to your senses.
Jincy Willett: The Writing Class
With her second novel, Willett matches the perfect pitch and execution of her brilliant short stories. Every writer will want to read this novel--very little wincing is involved, but expect a great deal of laughter. C and I found ourselves reading pieces aloud, after howling provoked the "what's so funny?" question. As with any good writing workshop or class, the characters become more appealing as you get to know them, and ultimately what she has pulled off is a satisfying mystery, and a satisfying exploration of humanity. Amy Gallup is a character to remember.
Karen Joy Fowler: Wit's End
A new novel by Karen Fowler really is something to be excited about, unlike many of the writers for whom such praise gets bandied about. (If you're smirking because you think you know something about her work from the title--not the book--The Jane Austen Book Club, please go sit in the corner and read any of her novels. You're welcome.) This is an unmystery-like mystery, concerned not so much with dead bodies--though there are plenty--as with the mysteries of healing and the heart, politics and people. How is it that a writer gets a lens on the present that's as revealing as the one she employs in historical fiction? Now that's a mystery. Highly recommended.
Steve Erickson: Zeroville
Steve Erickson novels are often like dreams, or revelations, or discovered artifacts, or written just for you. Zeroville's no different, although it is perhaps the most readily graspable example of his work to date. The Rosetta Stone is there; the secret decoder ring is a film projector. The dizzying Hollywood confidential stylings will make your inner film geek happy, but the uncovering of a truly mythic cinematic story--since cinema has existed forever--of sacrifice and redemption is even more memorable. See also: this review.
Ursula Dubosarsky: The Red Shoe (Neal Porter Books)
Set in Sydney during WWII, this wonderful novel travels between the view from inside each of three sisters. Dubosarsky perfectly captures the differences that come from being the younger, older, or middle child. Perfectly conjuring the period, and yet creating a completely accessible story, the narrative contrasts chapters focusing on the family with interstitials from the Sydney newspapers of the time, stories of polio, the H-bomb, and a defecting Russian spy (who happens to be in hiding next door). Nothing here is heavy-handed. Everything is perfectly balanced. It's a beautiful, beautiful novel. See my full take here.
Hobson Brown: Miss Educated: An Upper Class Novel (Upper Class) (****)
Hobson Brown: The Upper Class (*****)
Brian K. Vaughan: No Future For You (Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season Eight, Volume 2) (*****)
Jo Walton: Farthing (*****)
Michael Chabon: Gentlemen of the Road: A Tale of Adventure (*****)
Kathe Koja: Kissing the Bee (****)
Jennifer O'Connell: Everything I Needed to Know About Being a Girl I Learned from Judy Blume (****)
Kathi Appelt: The Underneath (*****)
E. Lockhart: Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks, The (*****)
Don Brown: Dolley Madison Saves George Washington hardcover (****)
Nancy Willard: A Visit to William Blake's Inn: Poems for Innocent and Experienced Travelers (*****)
Roxane Orgill: Footwork: The Story of Fred and Adele Astaire (***)
Heroes, Vol. 1 (***)
Jincy Willett: The Writing Class (*****)
Gary D. Schmidt: Lizzie Bright and the Buckminster Boy (****)
Cecily Von Ziegesar: Gossip Girl #1: A Novel (Gossip Girl Series) (***)
Ann Brashares: Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants (Book 1) (***)
Judith Clarke: Kalpana's Dream (Boston Globe-Horn Book Honors (Awards)) (****)
Laurie J. Marks: Water Logic: An Elemental Logic Novel (*****)
Kathleen Duey: Skin Hunger (A Resurrection of Magic) (*****)
Laura Ruby: The Chaos King (****)
A. M. Jenkins: Repossessed (****)
Philip Pullman: The Amber Spyglass (His Dark Materials, Book 3) (****)
G. Bond
P.O. Box 1304
Lexington, KY 40588-1304
: Club Kama Aina (*****)
Feist: The Reminder (*****)
Lily Allen: Alright, Still (****)
Fionn Regan: The End of History (*****)
Amy Winehouse: Back to Black (*****)
Recent Comments