Pile of Books

Do you read more than one book at a time?

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I do. I’m notorious in that respect… I have one book on a chair under the dinner table. One to three on our living room table. Several by my bed. Two in our bathroom.  A pile on my desk. And several as e-books on my iPad I take turns to read. (And that is only counting the novels, not the non-fiction books, mostly Egyptology, lying around)

I have no problems hopping from one plot to another. I actually like doing so, because it helps me see the differences in style by each author. Which is enjoyable in itself. It’s like comparing the brushwork of painters.

I have no trouble in saying no to new clothes, or shoes, or decorations. But just you let me loose in a bookstore…

 

 

Lyrics

We were at a concert with our friends last Friday. It was at a small theatre, with space to maybe a hundred listeners. The singer was a young woman, a wonderfully skilled artist, who sang many songs I had never heard before. So, I really tried to listen to what she sang. The lyrics were very touching, and poetic and beautiful.

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How many times, I wonder, I have been simply singing along with music I did never really listen to? The melody, sure, but the lyrics… Maybe not so much. I suddenly realized I had happily hollered (in the proverbial shower) lyrics that were downright stupid. Not matching my world view at all.

Yet music is the language that goes past our analytical mind, and touch our emotions directly. Should we use this to our advantage and “sing our troubles away”? Choose music with lyrics that match our life situation? Sing along with the songs? Try to change our habits with songs? Sing the songs as therapy – to help us recognize our emotions through our reaction to the song, both music and lyrics.

Have you ever tried writing song lyrics? I have. Not easy. You have to say a lot in a few words, because the song is not a novel. You have to decide are the lyrics going to be a poem, or prose. You actually have to have something to say, if you want to succeed in writing the lyrics.

What a skilled writers the ones have to be, who really write the evergreen lyrics.

And what is my favorite? Louis Armstrong’s It’s a Wonderful World:

 

“What A Wonderful World”

I see trees of green,
red roses too.
I see them bloom,
for me and you.
And I think to myself,
what a wonderful world.

I see skies of blue,
And clouds of white.
The bright blessed day,
The dark sacred night.
And I think to myself,
What a wonderful world.

The colors of the rainbow,
So pretty in the sky.
Are also on the faces,
Of people going by,
I see friends shaking hands.
Saying, “How do you do?”
They’re really saying,
“I love you”.

I hear babies cry,
I watch them grow,
They’ll learn much more,
Than I’ll ever know.
And I think to myself,
What a wonderful world.

Yes, I think to myself,
What a wonderful world.

Oh yeah.

Tiny Duckies – April Wishes

My friends find it funny that I often carry around two tiny rubber ducks when traveling around. I think it is a nutty thing to do too, but I dread the day I would be too serious to let my inner child out…

I call the duckies Licorice and Mint, and take photos of them in different locations.  Today my husband and I went walking and saw the first spring flowers. Couldn’t resist… So here they are, wishing everyone a youthful April with the words of Shakespeare (even if two days early)!

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55 years

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Last fall, when my father was in his final stages of cancer, he was admitted to hospital. My mother took him there. He was too weak to walk, and sat in a wheelchair. It was their 55th anniversary that day, and she kissed him, and wished him happy anniversary. They were both fully aware that very soon they would be saying their final goodbyes.

I was not present, but I could so imagine the whole thing. A heart-wrenching image – two old people, married that long, living through their final days together.

I wondered what did they feel for each other, how would they cope these last moments. And suddenly I realized I was repeating a Shakespeare sonnet in my mind. It fit the situation so well, and made me realize how words written hundreds of years ago were still current, and how well they still conveyed the same emotions I am sure my parents felt.

It was Shakespeare’s Sonnet 104.

To me, fair friend, you never can be old,
For as you were, when first your eye I ey’d,
Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold
Have from the forests shook three summers’ pride,
Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn’d
In process of the seasons have I seen,
Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn’d,
Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green.
Ah! yet doth beauty, like a dial-hand,
Steal from his figure and no pace perceiv’d;
So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand,
Hath motion and mine eye may be deceiv’d:
For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred;
Ere you were born, was beauty’s summer dead.

Research

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I have the utmost respect for people who spend years of their life doing research, then putting all their collected knowledge into book form.

I am sitting here, doing the very thing. Not for a book, but for an essay on Egyptian-Nubian relations during Middle Kingdom Egypt. Picking up crumbs of knowledge, and baking them into a loaf of information takes a lot of work, creativity, and good memory. And we are the fortunate ones, able to use modern technology. Imagine what a scholar’s world was like before computers. Getting the reference materials, doing your notes by hand, keeping an overall picture in your mind, and finally writing it into a valued scientific research.

I love writing fiction, and I feel having done this scholarly writing according to set rules and Harvard referencing system for five years, has taught me much about fiction writing as well. Not falling too much in love with my own words, being able to cut unnecessary things away, spotting the loose ends that don’t lead anywhere…

Maybe writing a few essays with an absolute word limit would be a good exercise for any writer. Short stories, for example. Condensing your story to 2000 words. Makes you really look at your words, and hone them so they still convey your message.

OK, back to my reference books…

A Pile of Books

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Last year we went on a skiing trip with our friends (oh well, not a skiing trip for me, as I didn’t ski, but the snow was fun, nevertheless). Their older daughter Livia was two at the time, and the younger one, our goddaughter, only four months old.

In the evenings we spent time together, ate dinner, and discussed. I usually sat on the couch, and as the evening progressed, I turned into a living bookshelf. Literally. Little Livia traveled with all her favorite toys – and that included at least ten books. She carried them to my lap, sat next to me every once in a while (with all that energy, much  running around was involved), and wanted me to read books with her. The Moomin characters were her favorites.

Did I like it? You bet! How could I not – a two-year-old who wanted to read books! You can guess what I’ll be buying her as presents, when she actually learns to read…

Slow Reading

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Have you ever read a book so good you don’t want it to end? I have, several times. Add to that the fact that I am a fast reader, and it’s clear that more often than not, those good books have ended much too soon.

These last five years have been different. I started studying Egyptology at the Manchester University. (If you are interested in the subject, you’ll find their Egyptology Online information here.) That, of course, meant that I no longer had much time to read novels. Did I stop reading novels, then? Heavens, no! But now I had to squeeze my reading into a few minutes here and there, where before I could read for hours at one go.

And this usually means reading a few minutes while I was eating, after coming home from work, before beginning my studies.

Oddly, this proved to be a good thing. Now I could savor a good book for much longer. The characters had time to settle in my mind, and the whole story was somehow even more enjoyable to read. There’s slow food, slow living – and slow reading, that makes you appreciate the nuances of the story more, to really savor every sentence.

I finished yesterday a 600-page long historical novel I got as a Christmas present. Normally I would have read the book in three days, now it took me three months. And I enjoyed it very much. The book and its characters became friends after such a long time, and it was a melancholic moment to close the back cover of the book.

I think I’ll keep doing this after my studies end in July this year. I’ll take one book, and read it slowly, a few minutes per day, even if I read other books fast simultaneously.

 

Children’s Books

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I wonder why children’s books are sometimes seen as an inferior genre of literature.

A child is still learning about emotions, the rules of the society,  good and bad. Children’s books give a safe way for them to do this.

It is not easy to write children’s fiction. The biggest mistake an author could do is to underestimate their intelligence. Children notice illogicalities quickly. They don’t like being dictated to, they want a good story that flows well, exactly like adults. There’s no need not to use proper language – reading books develops a child’s language skills. And reading aloud to a child is a wonderful way to bond.

A child can live dangerous moments safely through a book, or learn to handle difficult life situations. And of course – have a lot of fun.

Children love illustrated books. Writing a children’s book with illustrations is a challenge of its own. The pictures should tell things the text does not, while supporting the storyline.  A good illustrator knows how to do this.

Want to know a secret? I still go to bookstores to read (and sometimes buy) children’s books, especially the illustrated ones. Thank goodness I haven’t grown too old to read them.

How about reading one for a change?

Favorite Childhood Story

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What was your favorite story when you were a child?

Mine was the Lord of the Rings trilogy. I had never even heard of it before my mother asked me if I had read it already. I got so curious I marched directly to our library in search of it.

The first part, the Fellowship of the Ring was on loan to someone, so I borrowed the second part and began reading the trilogy from the Two Towers.

I was hooked. I have such a vivid imagination the words brought the story alive in my mind. I could not wait to get home from school to continue reading.

When Frodo and Sam were at the Mount Doom, Orodruin, I held my breath. I was so immersed into the story I almost jumped out of my skins when my mother decided to tell me at that very moment that dinner was ready. I quickly waved her off (she knew I’d come soon) to read how the hobbits expected to die. And how they were rescued.

After that I searched Silmarillion, and all the other stories of Tolkien from the library. I illustrated the story with the skills I had, and painting those illustrations made the story all the closer to me.

I learned the story by heart, and used it to learn languages better. I bought the trilogy in French, German, Swedish… It was easy learning – I did not need a dictionary. If I did not know a word, I remembered what was meant.

I saw Ralph Bakshi’s Lord of the Rings film, I bought the comic books. And when I heard that the story was to be made to a film by Peter Jackson, using all the modern technology that would make great illusions possible, I was over the moon with joy.

It was hard to wait for the first film, but I shared the waiting with a coworker who also loved the story. And the movies were such a wonderful experience… Only problem was that I remembered the stories too well, and noticed every deviation from the original story, which I had learned to love.

I do love both versions of the story, but despite all the special effects of the film it can never create such a feeling of wonder as the printed word did to the mind of a child. Do I dare to say I almost prefer the printed version because of this?

When I remember how deeply I felt about the story, I understand how important it is to teach children to read books. They learn language, but also how to handle their emotions safely. They learn to see a story from the viewpoint of many characters. And they learn what a great escape books can be from the sometimes difficult everyday life.

That, if anything, is true magic.

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Throwing Books Away

If there is something I just cannot do, that is throwing any of my books away. I respect the work of the author too much, I appreciate what they are trying to achieve.

In a fiction novel the author creates entertainment, and feelings, complete new worlds even, so the reader may forget their everyday life (everyone can do with a little escape from reality once in a while), and hopefully close the book feeling happier for reading it.

In non-fiction book the sheer amount of work the author has put into their book should make everyone appreciate their book. Creating such a book can take years of research, revision and writing.

Only once in my life have I literally thrown away a book. I got boxes of old books from people who were going to throw them away, so more often than not, I came to the rescue. This little book probably came in such a box, from an old lady. It was written by a religious extremist in the beginning of the 20th century, and was so full of hate against… well, everyone who wasn’t of the same religious view as the writer, really. I read a few pages, promptly opened the front door and walked to the garbage bin to throw it away. Now I don’t mind anyone explaining their world view, but I do appreciate the decency of listening and respecting the world view of others as well. That is called civilized behavior. And this book showed utter disrespect towards anyone who  did not share the world view of the author.

Good riddance, I say.

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