Tag Archives: words

The Doubtful Guest

gorey google

If you have tried googling anything this morning, you may have noticed that today is Edward Gorey day on Google! Yes, apparently they are commemorating what would have been his 88th birthday* with a special logo.

*I wonder why his 88th would be of significance…I know, I will google it!** Hang on….

**Please note that this increasing dependence on machines to do our searching and thinking for us is one of the first steps in our eventual downfall as a species. Yes, you are witnessing the genesis of it all right here, friends. And perhaps one day, many years after our Robot Overlords have wrested control of the planet, a small rag-tag band of rebel humans will mount a resistance movement. Hacking into the matrix, they will search back through the annals of internet history in search of a clue as to how it all went downhill…and maybe they will find this post. If you are reading this, rebel humans, please allow me to extend an apology to you. On behalf of the entire human race, I am sorry that we were too distracted by pictures of cats on the internet to notice that the machines were quietly plotting their attack.

Anyway, back to Edward Gorey. A cursory search has failed to reveal why his 88th birthday would be of importance. There must be a reason for it though. Am I missing something? Is 88 a significant number for Gorey fans? Or for Google? The number 8 is basically the infinity sign flipped on its head, so maybe that has something to do with it. Is Google engaged in an ambitious rivalry with infinity? That would be just like them, wouldn’t it?

Whatever. Some mysteries are never meant to be solved. Like the mystery of Edward Gorey’s ‘The Doubtful Guest’…

Where did he come from? Why did he stay? Was he sporting the same pair of white canvas shoes for 17 years, or did he keep ordering new pairs? Is falling asleep in a soup tureen as uncomfortable as it sounds?

There are no obvious answers to these questions. But I do very much enjoy the Doubtful Guest sitting here inside of the Google logo, surveying the scene with polite interest.

the doubtful guest

“Do tell…”

Ender’s Game

enders game

I just finished reading Orson Scott Card’s 1985 sci-fi novel Ender’s Game. It was great, on many levels – plot, characterization, evocative imagery, insightful commentary on the nature of the human condition. Aside from all that, though, one of the other aspects of the novel that I really enjoyed was the character names. First of all, ‘Ender’s Game‘ is a seriously kick-ass title for a book. It just sounds cool. The fact that Ender is the name of the main character is a bonus. And the entire story is populated by characters with interesting names. Here are a few of them:

  • ★ Ender Wiggin
  • ★ Valentine Wiggin
  • ★ Petra Arkanian
  • ★ Carn Carby
  • ★ Crazy Tom
  • ★ Sargeant Dap
  • ★ Dink Meeker
  • ★ Julian “Bean” Delphiki
  • ★ Rose the Nose
  • ★ Hot Soup
  • ★ Fly Molo
  • ★ Pol Slattery

I mean, would you not want to hang out with any and all of those dudes, based solely on their appellations? And sure, yeah, a couple of those are Battle School nicknames, but most of them are their legit birth names. Awesome.

Dictionary.com

You guys, I am totally obsessed with dictionary.com. I use it every single day. I mean, even a stellar vocabularist (totally not a word) such as myself needs a little help from time to time ;)

awesome

*Sidenote: how much do you love their sample phrase? Hilarious!

*Further sidenote: are you as surprised as I am to find out that awesome — a word I always think of as being super slangy — actually originated in the late 1500′s? That is…unexpected! And…awesome! It’s like an elder statesman of words, rather than being the bratty teen-aged word I always thought it was.

I am also a pretty huge fan of thesaurus.com. Words are so great!

thesaurus

Um…is ‘unamazing’ an actual word, thesaurus.com? I think we need some verification on that…

unamazing

Yeah…I didn’t think so. Looks like somebody needs to get their stories straight…

An Alchemy Imperceptible

prairie

Within him something was opening, releasing shyly as the petals of a flower open, with such gradualness that he was hardly aware of it. But it was happening: an alchemy imperceptible as the morning wind, a growing elation of such fleeting delicacy and poignancy that he dared not turn his mind to it for fear that he might spoil it, that it might be carried away as lightly as one strand of a spider web on a sigh of a wind. He was filled with breathlessness and expectancy, as though he were going to be given something, as though he were about to find something.

– W.O. Mitchell, Who Has Seen the Wind

Scintillate, Scintillate, Asteroid Minific

skillin' in the sky

Yesterday I wrote about a poem that I had to memorize in the fifth grade, and it made me think about another verse that our teacher, Madame Cohen (I went to a French immersion school) made us learn by heart:

Scintillate, scintillate, asteroid minific,
Fain would I fathom your nature specific.
Exaltedly set in ether capacious,
A reasonable facsimile of a gem carbonaceous.
Scintillate, scintillate, asteroid minific,
Fain would I fathom your nature specific.

Or, as it is more familiarly known:

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are.
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are.

Sometimes the Last Hook’s the Most Difficult One

lost at sea

THE HOOK AND THE SEA

What is her problem?
The sea is her problem.
No that’s not true, she is her problem.
She is in fact her very own problem.
The ocean is vast, depths untold.
The water is dark, and so cold.

Thinking this way is not easy to do.
Can it really be real? Can it truly be true?
He asks, why does this seem to be hard for you?
Has some thoughts about it — in fact he has a few.

But she knows the answers, they’re often quite plain.
She tries to find words and she tries to explain
Why it is she falls into the water again.
Could it be that the fish is foolish and insane?

In truth she is not, for she knows in her heart
That things can be best when they all fall apart.
She knows what to say, and if she is smart
She’ll allow it to happen, allow it to start.

Sometimes the last hook’s the most difficult one
To tear from your skin, free yourself and be done.

Vanity Fair

VF cover

Look, I am not at all ashamed to admit that about 80% of what I know about the world comes from the pages of Vanity Fair. It is a stellar magazine, with superb investigative journalism and top-notch writing. I’ve been reading it since I was 10, and by now I actually have favorite articles from over the years that I dig out and re-read from time to time. Who can forget 1992′s infamous piece on Courtney Love which resulted in the author, Lynn Hirschberg, receiving death threats (from Love herself). I also loved the July 2002 article on big wave surfing, which I read while lying immobile in a hostel bed in Madrid, laid up with both a bad back and food poisoning. More recently, I sobbed pretty hard as I made my way through this piece about the black market ivory trade in Africa. You guys! Did you know that elephants get really upset when one of their loved ones dies? Check it out:

Footage from here in 2000 shows a procession of clearly distressed elephants, 127 of them over the course of two days, paying their last respects to a dead baby lying on one of the paths to the bai, caressing it with their trunks, trying to prod it back to life, placing their feet over its heart to see if it is still beating. One young male tried to lift it 57 times.

I mean…gah!!! What are you trying to do to me, Vanity Fair? I’m not made of stone!

Anyway, my point is that their articles are informative, compelling, and thought-provoking. Plus, nobody does scandal like Vanity Fair. If you want the lowdown on the seamy underbelly of rich America, look no further. Each new issue contains dazzling and lurid tales of corporate intrigue, high-profile affairs, explosive divorce battles, and infamous murder cases. I am happy to report that my copy of the annual Hollywood issue just arrived in the mail, so this weekend I plan on curling up on the couch with a nice glass of (maple sugar) wine and catching up on as much Hollywood dirt as I can!

Stories of Monkeys in Hats in the Square

Fez Monkeys

9 / 11

They sit in a room that is half soaked in gin
How did they get here; how did it begin?
She’s stretched out in front of him, feet on the floor
Cigarettes in their hands, now someone’s closed the door.

Looking at postcards from her on the wall
While people lean drunkenly out in the hall
Quick, to the bar! We mustn’t be long.
Or they’ll get ideas, some of which won’t be wrong.

What if he notices? What if he hears?
Or worse – nothing happens – is that what she fears?
Her hair smells like sugar, and maple, and sweet
It surely won’t seem all that strange if they meet.

Pages from magazines sent via air,
And stories of monkeys in hats in the square.
You should have seen it, you should have been there
But you wouldn’t love it and you wouldn’t care.

The day I first met you, you cut off your hair.
And now it means nothing, it doesn’t, I swear…
I knew at the time that it wasn’t for me
But how can we give up what we can’t yet see?

It’s Official: Best New Read of 2012

John Green

John Green: killing me softly with his words

Okay, now, I know what you are thinking. We are a scant 29 days into the new year, and I am already declaring The Fault in Our Stars as Best New Read? Well, my friends, it is just that good.

Oh, this book…this book! On Friday night I went to see a movie by myself (more on seeing movies alone another day, as it’s one of the things on my list) and although it was good, the whole time I was there I just kept thinking about how much I wanted to be reading this book. So when I got home, I continued, even though it was late, and by the stroke of 1:00 am I was lying in bed sobbing my eyes out. I don’t want to spoiler it too much for you in case you read it (and you should!) but suffice to say that this book destroyed me.

When we left off, of course, Hazel and Augustus were about to start out on their journey to Amsterdam to meet the elusive Peter Van Houten and finally learn more about the ending of An Imperial Affliction. All I will say is that the trip does not go exactly as planned, but that it is nevertheless an amazing experience for both of them. The second half of the book is less focused on the bloom of first love, because there is some pretty heavy shizz that goes down, but there are still plenty of swoony moments. There is one passage about love that I would like to share with you:

“I’m in love with you,” he said quietly.

“Augustus,” I said.

“I am,” he said. He was staring at me, and I could see the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I’m in love with you, and I’m not in the business of denying myself the simple pleasure of saying true things. I’m in love with you, and I know that love is just a shout into the void, and that oblivion is inevitable, and that we’re all doomed and that there will come a day when all our labor has been returned to dust, and I know the sun will swallow the only earth we’ll ever have, and I am in love with you.”

“Augustus,” I said again, not knowing what else to say. It felt like everything was rising up in me, like I was drowning in this weirdly painful joy, but I couldn’t say it back. I couldn’t say anything back. I just looked at him and let him look at me until he nodded, lips pursed, and turned away, placing the side of his head against the window.

You guys, I think John Green really nailed it here. I have tried a few times, unsuccessfully, to explain what it feels like to fall in love. Everyone (i.e. TV shows, Hollywood movies, Harlequin romance novels) seems to treat it as this magical experience that is filled with joy and ecstasy and doves being released to the heavens — but in my view, more often that not, falling in love is actually a kind of painful experience. Not exactly painful in a bad way — it’s amazing, and thrilling, of course — but essentially you spend a few months walking around feeling like you’re going to throw up most of the time. Love is basically the most pleasurable illness in the world. Few would choose not to have it, but it is an affliction nonetheless. So when I read the line “It felt like everything was rising up in me, like I was drowning in this weirdly painful joy” I think I actually jumped up and exclaimed “Yes!! John Green, you are a genius!” Because that was exactly how I felt the first time a boy ever told me that he loved me. I was sixteen, and his name was Ben, and it was simultaneously one of the best and most terrifying experiences of my life up to that point. I felt vulnerable, and exposed, like my skin had literally been turned inside out. Which sounds super gross, but it was also amazing…and terrible, and great, all at the same time. Love is weird.

Anyway, it is very difficult to write about love without sounding cheesy or resorting to lame clichés, but John Green navigates the subject skillfully, treating it with a perfect balance of humour and gravitas. Even though the relationship between Augustus and Hazel intensifies quickly, it really rings true. Another thing that struck me about the book is that Green is able to write convincingly from the point of view of a 16-year old girl, which is rare for a male author. This is his first novel featuring a female protagonist, and I was pleasantly surprised to find that I liked this character even more than the (male) main characters in his other books.

Before I wrap this up, I must mention Hazel’s parents, especially her dad who is possibly the awesomest book dad ever. I would imagine that having a terminally ill kid would be one of the most difficult, heartbreaking experiences that anyone ever has to go through, and Hazel’s parents are bastions of strength and good humour. I really like this little passage in which the three of them are watching an America’s Next Top Model marathon (Hazel is addicted to bad reality TV):

Finally, we watched ANTM. Dad tried really hard not to die of boredom, and he kept messing up which girl was which, saying, “We like her?”

“No, no. We revile Anastasia. We like Antonia, the other blonde,” Mom explained.

“They’re all tall and horrible,” Dad responded. “Forgive me for failing to tell the difference.”

In conclusion: although this book made me cry quite uncontrollably, and was very sad in parts, I do not for one second regret having read it. I feel fortunate that it came into my life, unexpectedly, when it did. I grew quite attached to it in a short period of time, which surprised me because that is not usually my style with books. And even though it may have ended, I suspect that I will be thinking about it for a long time to come.

The Fault in Our Stars

The Fault in Our Stars

John Green is not only one of my favorite YA authors, he is simply one of my favorite authors, full stop. The first book of his that I read was Looking for Alaska (the Colonel is hands down one of the best characters of all time) and I loved An Abundance of Katherines. Don’t even get me started on Will Grayson, Will Grayson, the book that Green co-wrote with David Levithan (there are really no words for the complete joy that Tiny Cooper brings to my life).

So when I was at my local bookstore yesterday evening and noticed that his new novel, The Fault in Our Stars, had come out, of course I purchased it immediately and began reading it on the subway ride home. It is now 14 hours later, I am on Chapter 9 (having stayed up until 2 am reading), and I am officially, completely, and totally obsessed.

There are just SO MANY AMAZING THINGS about this book. First of all, it’s the story of Hazel Lancaster, a sixteen year old girl living with cancer. That sounds like a total downer of a premise but it’s totally not, I swear, because even though Hazel has been through some tough times and has problems breathing and stuff (a side effect of the illness, which ravaged her lungs), she’s pretty awesome about it all. Anyway, she goes to a support group every week for kids with cancer, which is where she meets Augustus Waters, a super hot boy who also happens to have had cancer (osteosarcoma) and has a prosthetic leg and may be the most swoon-worthy character I have ever encountered in a YA book. Or any book. Seriously. He is just that awesome. He’s smart, and funny, and sarcastic, and he reads Hazel’s favorite book the night after he meets her, and gives her one of his favorite books which is the first in this ridiculous series of novels based on a video game, with a protagonist called ‘Max Mayhem’. The developing romance between Hazel and Augustus is actually, literally, killing my life right now with its amazingness. They transition pretty quickly from being complete strangers to becoming majorly important in one another’s lives, but it doesn’t feel rushed. It makes sense. And here’s the thing – I’m on page 129 and they’ve barely even held hands yet, let alone kissed. There’s hardly been any physical contact between them but it doesn’t matter, I am still dying from the hotness of their relationship – that’s how swoony this book is. Check out this passage:

After that, we turned on the TV for a little while, but we couldn’t find anything to watch, so I grabbed An Imperial Affliction off the bedside table and brought it back into the living room and Augustus Waters read to me while Mom, making lunch, listened in.

“’Mother’s glass eye turned inward,’” Augustus began. As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.

Another excellent thing about The Fault in Our Stars is that there’s a whole book-within-a-book situation going on, which I always love. Hazel is a huge fan of this reclusive author named Peter Van Houten, who wrote only one novel (An Imperial Affliction, the aforementioned favorite book, which ended literally in the middle of a sentence) and then disappeared to the Netherlands, never to be heard from again. Hazel is obsessed with finding out what happened to the characters in the story after the book ended, so Augustus tracks down Peter Van Houten’s assistant, Lidewij Vliegenthart, and they end up arranging a trip to Amsterdam to go and meet the author.

And that’s as far as I’ve gotten. I will leave you with the last words that I read, as I walked into work this morning:

I texted Augustus because I knew he was in school:

Still free May three? :-)

He texted back immediately.

Everything’s coming up Waters.*

If I could just stay alive for a week, I’d know the unwritten secrets of Anna’s mom and the Dutch Tulip Guy. I looked down my blouse at my chest.

“Keep your shit together,” I whispered to my lungs.

*Of course John Green is a Simpsons fan.

Stay tuned for an update as to whether the second half cements this book’s status as Best New Read of 2012. So far, it’s looking good!