HSU IT Department

Since I've been Old Unreliable lately as far as appearing online (because real life = new house + dog with pewmonia + hosting Thanksgiving + work craziness + friend worries), I'm taking the easy way out and posting reviews of three books I recently read. If anyone else has read these, I'd love to hear what you think. I also recently read JK Rowling's Cuckoo's Calling which I thoroughly enjoyed, but I haven't written a review of it yet. Maybe tomorrow?

The Night Sister by Jennifer McMahon: This book gave me horrific nightmares twice (twice!) the first night I started reading it. That hasn't happened in ages. The ending was surprisingly melancholy, and though not quite what I expected (I really thought ( spoiler )) it was apt, and rather touching. The narrative conveniently skips over the question of why in god's name Rose's mother didn't follow up on Rose's stories about Sylvie, given that ( spoiler ). The answer, of course, is because plot. Nevertheless, this was a fast diverting read, and good enough that I'll try another by her.

Disclaimer by Renée Knight: Intense, gripping, bewildering, startling; this book is like playing with one of those wooden puzzle cubes where it seems like a solid block until you get all the pieces in play in just the right way, and then the whole things falls apart and you see how it all fits together. As with any good suspense novel, the author hides some things from the reader, but she does it so cleverly that you don't notice; she quietly omits a few crucial points or phrases (in one case simply using a pronoun rather than a name), and the reader effortlessly makes certain assumptions without even noticing it and goes merrily on down the completely wrong path. Really beautifully crafted, with unexpected pokes and jabs around every corner that slowly grow into an almighty sucker punch that leaves your mouth hanging open.

Gothic Tales by Elizabeth Gaskell: Typical gothic tales, with a lot of family mystery/drama. Some interesting plots, but many of the stories felt too drawn out -- "like butter that has been scraped over too much bread." Wordy isn't bad if the words enhance the story and/or the atmosphere, but overall these stories just felt labored. "Lois the Witch" was genuinely painful to read, since you know pretty much from the third paragraph where it's headed yet it takes something like fifty pages to get there.

So I'm sure everyone is aware of the kerfuffle over the NSA logging phone numbers, call durations, email, chat, etc., yes?  Today I went to view a document I needed to review that was posted on Google Docs, and I see this:


Has anyone else ever seen this message?  I've been looking at/working with files on Google Docs for the last 18 months or so due to a couple of international committees I'm on, and I don't recall ever seeing this before. Coincidence?  I THINK NOT... (cue ominous music)

In other news, our kitchen remodel is done -- new countertops! new cabinets!! freshly polished/finished floors!!! -- so I can start cooking again, and we can have proper popcorn instead of Boom Chicka Pop out of a bag (it's very tasty, but it doesn't beat the hot fresh popped item).  So yay for all that.  Also we get to go behind-the-scenes with wolves on Thursday at the zoo (v. cool).  Ooh, and the first trailer for the next installation of The Hobbit is out, complete with Mirkwood, a red-haired elf, and SMAUG'S HEAD! Yesssss...  I'm selfishly pleased that it's coming out in December, as that will distract me from my annual Christmas "Why are there no more Harry Potter movies?" mopage/whinage.  We likes it, precious, yes we do :)

talesofsnape, rivertempest, toblass and madeleone have given me pandas!!! How lovely to get all those big fluffy bears -- thank you, m'dears :)

lady_of_clunn has an interesting meme on her post today, full of questions about one's house. One can learn a lot about someone from their house -- much more than from "Coke or Pepsi?" and "Croutons or bacon bits?" (Surprisingly, however, there are no questions about books or bookshelves; whenever I go into someone's house the first thing I do is prowl their bookshelves.)

I was amused to discover how many of my answers would be either "the cat" or "the dog." For example:

8. What is on top of your refrigerator? => the cat
9. What colour is your sofa? => same as the cats
32. Is there anything under your bed? => the cats (it used to be the dog as well, but now she's far too massive)
37. Is there anything on your kitchen floor right now? => the dog
43. Do you keep any kind of protective weapons in your home? => just the dog
44. What does your home smell like right now? => the dog
45. Favourite candle scent? => Not Dog?
55. What style do you decorate in? => Early Dog and Late Cat

I'm reading a very interesting book at the moment called Lord of the World. It's post-apocalypse -- well, it starts pre- and right now we're in medias res, so I guess it's full-on apocalyptic, not just post-. At any rate, it's quite fascinating. The author was an Anglican (is that the right word for C of E?) priest who later converted to Catholicism, and the book is an exploration of a near-future world in which Humanism has spread throughout the world and religion is regarded as a mildly embarrassing joke. The two main characters are Julian Felsenburgh, a myteriously charismatic American who becomes President of Europe, and Father Percy Franklin, a Catholic priest who recognizes the profound attraction of the secular world's temptations, achievements and beliefs but whose faith remains strong. Although I'm quite certain that the author is on the side of religion, he does a wonderful job painting the positive aspects and deep appeal of both sides.

But one of the most lovely things about it is its beauty of language. The book was written in 1907 and has all the lush, elaborate detail that one used to find in novels in general, but which is all too sadly lacking these days. For example, here is his description of the Pope, when Father Franklin first meets him:

It was a very upright old man that [Father Franklin] saw in the chair before him, of medium height and girth, with hands clasping the bosses of his chair-arms, and an appearance of great and deliberate dignity. But it was at the face chiefly that he looked, dropping his gaze three or four times, as the Pope's blue eyes turned on him. They were extraordinary eyes, reminding him of what historians said of Pius X.; the lids drew straight lines across them, giving him the look of a hawk, but the rest of the face contradicted them. There was no sharpness in that. It was neither thin nor fat, but beautifully modelled in an oval outline: the lips were clean-cut, with a look of passion in their curves; the nose came down in an aquiline sweep, ending in chiselled nostrils; the chin was firm and cloven, and the poise of the whole head was strangely youthful. It was a face of great generosity and sweetness, set at an angle between defiance and humility, but ecclesiastical from ear to ear and brow to chin; the forehead was slightly compressed at the temples, and beneath the white cap lay white hair. It had been the subject of laughter at the music-halls nine years before, when the composite face of well-known priests had been thrown on a screen, side by side with the new Pope's, for the two were almost indistinguishable.

Isn't that gorgeous? Nobody writes like that these days, or at least very few.

In an odd coincidence, one of my current freelance jobs is a book on Masonry, which includes a section on the Catholic Church's historically extremely negative attitude towards it. That same attitude is all over this book. The priests regularly talk about how Masonry has been the force behind the rise of Humanism, and at big gatherings they play the "Masonic Hymn" instead of some antiquated thing like a national anthem. Intriguing.

It's a cracking good story so far, too. None of your Left Behind sensationalist crap, but a slowly creeping horror. I have no idea how it will end but I've very much enjoying the ride. It's available for free on Project Gutenberg, if anyone is interested.

14K words later, my LMHG exchange is officially the longest fic I've ever written and it's finally out for beta. Woo-hoo! I feel the need to fall on the floor and gasp for air now for about two days.

Being too exhausted to think of anything clever, I give you Henri, Chat Noir, in his Paw de Deux:

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This man rocks. Yes Shakespeare, yes Robbie Burns, yes John Donne, yes e.e. cummings, yes Countee Cullen, you are all wordsmiths of the human condition and I love you all. But if you want it raw, unvarnished, unpolished -- if you want it straight from the gut, perfect in its imperfections -- Bukowski is your man.

Go Charles. Couldn't have said it better.

In my work, as a writer, I only photograph, in words, what I see. If I write of "sadism" it is because it exists, I didn't invent it, and if some terrible act occurs in my work it is because such things happen in our lives. I am not on the side of evil, if such a thing as evil abounds. In my writing I do not always agree with what occurs, nor do I linger in the mud for the sheer sake of it. Also, it is curious that the people who rail against my work seem to overlook the sections of it which entail joy and love and hope, and there are such sections. My days, my years, my life has seen up and downs, lights and darknesses. If I wrote only and continually of the "light" and never mentioned the other, then as an artist I would be a liar.

Censorship is the tool of those who have the need to hide actualities from themselves and from others. Their fear is only their inability to face what is real, and I can't vent any anger against them. I only feel this appalling sadness. Somewhere, in their upbringing, they were shielded against the total facts of our existence. They were only taught to look one way when many ways exist.

This is an excerpt. Thanks to Letters of Note (an awesome site, go visit them) for posting the full letter + transcript.

As a follow-up, read Bukowski's poem about the cat. If this doesn't touch you, you must be some sort of alien observer and not human at all.

Our local Ren Fest opened this weekend, huzzah!!! Of course we went, of course we got all dressed up for it, of course we ate turkey drumsticks and drank ale at 10am and sang silly songs and generally had an awesome time. And of course we bought new garb.

Yes, it's only the FIRST DAY and we've already heavily indulged our garbaholic weakness. This does not bode well for our pocketbook for the rest of the season. Spouse has been complaining that he looks like he's slumming when he's with me since I go for the wench look while he goes for the Sir Walter Raleigh look (apart, thank gods, from the ruff that makes you look like a bird who swallowed a plate). So I gave in and got a gorgeous chocolate-brown velvet surcoat over a cream underskirt, with a new shirt to boot. Of course that meant Spouse had to upgrade as well: he picked up a new silk taffeta doublet that looks great and is ten times lighter than the heavier one he's been wearing.

We look fabulous. Except now I need a hat and some accessories. Oh what a shame.

On another note, I apparently qualify for AP History level nerdiness due to the fact that at least one of our cats is named for mythological/defunct or pre-modern era deities. I'm not sure about the other one, but they don't have a category for Greek superhero so I'm going to assume she'd qualify us for this category as well.