Currently Reading: Finnikin of the Rock

From the window of the stable loft, Sir Topher watched. The novice stood at the gate outside the dilapidated cottage. He knew she would stay there until the moon rose, as she had done each day since Finnikin's imprisonment.

"They will come," she said firmly when he joined her.

"And if they don't?" he asked. "I understand what you are trying to do, but your methods could get him killed."

"The captain will not let any harm come to his son."

"Sometimes fathers can't protect their children, Evanjalin. Did yours save you from harm?" Sir Topher asked, knowing the question was cruel.

"No," she responded fiercely. "But my father would warn, 'Be prepared for the worst, my love, for it lives next door to the best.' And for that I thank him each day of my life."

Author: Melina Marchetta

Synopsis: As a child, Finnikin sacrificed a piece of his own flesh to the gods to save his kingdom—not long before the five days of the unspeakable, when the king's family was murdered, his own father was imprisoned, and the land of Lumatere was sealed off with a curse. Now traveling among exile camps in neighboring lands, Finnikin finds himself teamed up with a secretive girl named Evanjalin who helps him one minute and betrays him the next. Finnkin just wants to gain relief for the Lumateran exiles, but Evanjalin is determined to find a way back into Lumatere itself—and she's convinced that a member of the royal family, Finnikin's childhood friend Balthazar, still lives. Finnikin would love to believe that, but then he'd have to trust the liar Evanjalin enough to do the impossible.

Notes: I've had my eye on Marchetta's work for a while, as she's acclaimed brightly around the young adult book blogosphere. Upon discovering that she'd written a fantasy, I had to check it out, and at the standard mid-book perusal of the back inside flap of the dust jacket—you know, that moment where you turn to the author bio because you want to get a look at the person who wrote the story—I was intrigued by this quote from her:

"I was told often that I couldn't write fantasy unless I had read all the greats and knew the conventions well, but I think the first step to writing good fantasy is knowing this world we live in well. I wanted to look closely at that world—where loss of faith, loss of homeland and identity, displacement of spirit, and breakdown of community are common—because these are the scenes in today's media that affect me the most. In this sense, the book is a search for identity in the same way that my other novels are."

With the most common complaint about fantasy being that everything seems like a Tolkien rip-off, there might be something to Marchetta's philosophy. I can't speak for whether she ever read Tolkien, but few of the common tropes made it into Finnikin of the Rock. It's less farm boy quest narrative and more the story of restoring a little city-state overrun by tyrants and cursed apart. Inside the boundaries of the curse, the Lumaterans suffer unthinkable abuse, and outside, they struggle to survive and retain some sense of Lumateran identity as exiles in foreign lands.

It's strikingly symbolic. The author "grew up with Bible stories, and although this trilogy isn’t religious, it’s biblical at times" (quoted from her blog). While it may not be specifically themed upon any one religion, there's certainly religion involved; the Lagrami/Sagrami goddess duality suggests the yin and yang, and the names Lumatere and Evanjalin have obvious connotations. Evanjalin's treatment of the savage thief boy, Froi, is redemptive charity strong enough to be shocking, and Finnikin, whose anger and sexual escapades made me dislike him for much of the book, is pulled toward goodness by her higher standards.

Higher being relative, of course. This is dark fantasy, and even the best characters do terrible things. Marchetta portrays humanity at a level of degradation I've not often seen up close, and there's a lot of violence, including rape; there's some open use of prostitution, plenty of hatred, and endless lying. The bedroom scenes are offscreen in keeping with the teen label—not that the teen label guarantees that nowadays—but the talk of sex and menstruation is frank enough to induce blushing. It's not a pleasant, poetic read like The Lord of the Rings, in which the "struggle is not against flesh and blood"; it's a rough and gory tale of human evil.

The scenes, especially the fight scenes, are written with a cinematic feel that I sometimes found hard to follow. I thought the narrative could have used some editing here and there for clarity, though I'm not sure how much to blame that on the fact that I read it during a head cold. The plot and mystery, however, are strong overall; I felt like I should have seen the twist coming, but it took me by surprise while seeming exactly right.

The ending contains a lot of hope, and I suspect the romance will be very satisfying for anyone who can love Finnikin. Rage and lust are supposedly common to male experience, but Finnikin was so dominated by the one and careless about the other that I never developed much respect or liking for him. I did love Evanjalin, however, despite her own set of not-so-defensible behaviors, and the fact that I developed a sort of tender concern for Froi—not usually the type of character an author will get a reader to sympathize with—is all to Marchetta's credit.

Readers who like their fiction dark and earthy will probably love Finnikin of the Rock, regardless of whether they like fantasy. The story doesn't focus on magic and visuals, but on the human experience of cultural and communal breakdown and the struggle to survive, not just in body but in spirit and identity. It's got a lot going for it on those grounds.

The Monster Captcha

Hello, readers,

The day has finally come. I've been moderating away, but after getting well over a hundred spam comments on Monday's post alone, I've decided to enable Captcha.

I know it's frustrating. I'm sorry. I hate it, too.

Harry Potter Book Club: Sorcerer's Stone, Chapters 8-10

Hold onto your pointy black hats! We're getting into Quidditch.



Which has been adapted into a full-contact, non-flying, fo'-realz sport, by the way... it looks like fun, but also potentially very painful. Here's the Complete Muggle's Guide, if you want further information.

First, however: This past week's discussion contained a variety of wonders, from Laura sorting Lady Gaga songs into various Houses, to Masha and Seth questioning why the Hufflepuff mascot isn't a goat, to Christie pointing out another aspect of House symbolism:

This brings to the forefront of my mind the idea that the houses of Hogwarts are actually four different aspects of one person.  Though more developed in some than in others, most characters—and all real people—have to some extend the daring of Gryffindor, the loyalty of Hufflepuff, the cleverness of Ravenclaw, and the potential for power that is in Slytherin.  It would do very well to explain the stereotyping of the houses because each house is not a complete personality, but an aspect of one boiled down to its essence (oooh, alchemy terminology—totally unintentional!)

Alchemy discussions coming very soon, by the way.

Masha also took on John Granger's distinction between invocational versus incantational magic:

Granger then goes on to liken Rowling’s magic to that of Lewis and Tolkien. There are similarities, for certain, but he chooses a strange example in Caspian’s invocation of aid (it’s a musical invocation, which is Granger’s link to his approved incantational magic - but it’s hard to avoid the obvious call to help from beyond)... Magic is not something easily divided - incantations often invoke, invocations often implore, and God-magic can include both - as the Liturgy does, as Tirian’s call or Frodo’s “A Elbereth Gilthoniel” do; as forbidden magic does (and all magic apart from God is forbidden, be it chanting spells or calling up ghosts).

While pointing out that there's no demonism in Harry Potter is helpful on occasion in arguing in favor of Christians reading the books, I agree with Masha entirely in that post. Rowling's magic is about as non-pagan as it can be without changing the words witchcraft and wizardry, but the words are there and are not so easily worked around. I don't, however, think the Potter books lead a lot of people into witchcraft. I think they lead a lot of people to be either a) more fervent Christians or b) more fervent social liberals... or, if nothing else, c) more fervent internet junkies... and potential readers can interpret the dangers there at will.

Also, for your vicarious cooking pleasure, I made pumpkin pasties, using this fresh pumpkin filling recipe (which made WAY too much pumpkin filling for the amount of pie crust I made; next time, I'll cut it in half):

I used frozen pumpkin puree, actually, which I ought to have strained, and substituted heavy cream for the evaporated milk. The flavoring turned out pretty superb; I just ended up with three times what I needed.

For crust, I made a recipe for an eight-inch double crust pie.

Pie pastry gets tougher the more it's worked, so I don't recommend rolling the scraps more than twice. Also, the coffee mug as template meant making tiny little pasties with no more than two teaspoons of filling apiece. They were good, but a higher ratio of filling to pastry would have made them more flavorful. No pun intended.

I melted butter for the tops and baked them on wax paper. The latter proved important; I doubt they'd ever have come off even a greased baking sheet in one piece.

They turned out really cute, however—and rather tasty:

And now, for next week's discussion!

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Read: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, Chapters 8-10

Here's another recipe I'm inclined to try: steak and kidney pie. That's Jamie Oliver's dad's recipe, by the way, so I presume it's awesome, regardless of what kidney tastes like. (I have no idea, never having tried it.) The difficulty is that I'm at a loss where to get kidney in America, or in Bellingham, anyway, and although my husband is unbelievably patient with my attempts at making British food, I do not think he'll appreciate it if I substitute liver.

Potential Discussion Points:

Quidditch Rivals by Linnpuzzle

1. Safety isn't taken all that seriously at Hogwarts; nor, apparently, among wizards in general. Not by modern urban standards, at least. Madam Hooch's first flying class is disaster waiting to happen, and sheesh, what could go wrong with aggressive leather balls flying around trying to knock people off brooms fifty feet in the air?

Some perspective: According to Washington state motor vehicle laws, children are required to be in car seats or some other form of child restraint system until they're eight years old or 4'9" tall (an impressive hardship for enthusiastic young Catholic families, who may easily have four or five children under eight). Children are required to ride in back seats "when practical" until age 13. So, an eleven-year-old kid just three years out of booster seats in Washington state cars could be riding a flying broom skyward with twenty of his fellows at Hogwarts. A twelve-year-old, still forced to ride in the back seat of a minivan out here, could there be legally chased around in the air by Bludgers.

Believe me, I understand the desire and the reasons for child safety laws. But what kid wouldn't rather be at Hogwarts?

Warner Bros. Source: "Severus Snape: One Teacher's Hero"
by Mary Beth Ellis

2. Rulebreaking and unethical behavior are standard practice at Hogwarts, not just among the students, but among the teachers as well. Snape's bullying of Harry and Neville is mind-boggling in these early chapters (as well as throughout much of the series). Even strict McGonagall, however, rewards a broken rule and gets the school regulations bent further for the sake of having a good Quidditch team. Faculty rulebreaking makes for handy plot points all the way through the series, but the thought of a professor like Snape being allowed to go on teaching year after year is just plain shocking.

I suspect both these sorts of things are more common among public and private school systems than a demure little homeschooler like myself could ever imagine. But just because something's common doesn't mean it's good, and the whole of Dumbledore's spoilerific history is more comprehensible to me than the lone fact of his keeping Snape on staff—even though I know exactly why he did it.

3. Harry's big childhood weakness is his flat-out hatred toward Malfoy and the Dursleys, an actual pleasure in watching them suffer harm. Considering how much harm he suffers at their hands, and how little moral direction he's ever had, this is not surprising. It's also—from the Catholic point of view, at least—not a good thing; it's serious sin, in fact. No part of Harry's story is more uncomfortable for me to read than his moments of glee over his enemies' pain.

I'd like to talk about future resolutions of this problem, but that would mean spoilers all over the place.

4. "There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other..." I always thought this statement was rather profound. Perhaps anything's possible, but risking life and limb together and working for each other's safety is one of the surest ways of creating camaraderie. I used to work in outdoor adventure education, and this concept was very familiar among that crowd—and I still have warm feelings toward long-out-of-touch friends who pulled me out of a river or talked me down a nervewracking rappel.

5. Quidditch: way cooler than football of either the American or The-Rest-Of-The-World varieties. I'm not sure if there's anything in particular anyone wants to discuss about it, and I'm afraid enough of heights and uncoordinated enough with balls that I doubt I'd be good at it, but still. It sounds like so much fun.

Tutshill Tornadoes Quidditch Player by KlaasVDV

Happy reading and writing!

Street Hockey Obligations and other stories

Anyone who smiles and cries and goes agog over Orson Scott Card novels as often as I do may not need another reason to love the author, but I found several dozen in this interview over at The Millions. I don't have a hard number on that; I didn't count the sentences in the post.

Among other things, he explained for me why I find present tense novels uncomfortable:

First person present tense [is] a convention that makes sense in French, which hates its preterite, but none in English, where our real present is present progressive: Not “I pick up the envelope from the table” but “I am picking up the envelope from the table.” Who could bear to read a story, let alone a novel, in the true present tense of natural spoken English? So we get stories written in this artificial, impossible voice.... It worked for Hunger Games because the story was so powerful; but the choice hampered the sequels.

and paraphrased Dumbledore* in response to a question about Xenocide and religion:

Even when we are genetically modified (and we all are; it simply is nature rather than government that usually does the modifying), our self is distinguished by what we choose to do about our drives and impulses, our weaknesses and strengths.

and gave further confirmation of his unusual perceptiveness about human nature:

All knowledge that we believe so firmly that we act upon it is faith, and almost none of it is based on our personal experience. We believe what others have told us, and consider “sane” those who agree with the people we agree with.

Advisory: if you want to save yourself a serious headache over the savagery of semi-anonymous humanity on the internet, do not read the comments. Judging by the dozen or so I saw, there's not much point, anyway, seeing as how they're not often responding to the article.

* * *

The question now is, should I get my next Card novel in paperback, or download it onto this?:

Less than twenty-four hours with that Kindle Fire, and... I think I might actually read books on it. Not that I didn't read books on the hardworking old 2nd Generation Kindle George passed on to me—I loved having it for book club books and free classics off Amazon, but I never figured out how to use it easily for anything I wanted to re-read.

The old Kindle burned out this week, and as I spoke with an Amazon CS rep, he said, "We can get you some good discounts on upgrades..."

He wasn't kidding. (Thanks for that, George!!) And now I have a Kindle Fire. And—not from Amazon—a cold, which has unexpectedly cleared up a bunch of my weekend. I'm furious about the cold; I wanted to have the book club girls over tonight and go to my friend Donna's party tomorrow, and I still hope to sing Mozart with the choir on Sunday and go see The Lonely Forest. But this does mean I'll have more time to set up apps and possibly start in on some Wodehouse.

* * *

Maia's favorite place to cuddle down this week: in my avocado plant.

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I had to limit myself to a reasonable number of photos of exciting garden things this week. One of my favorites was discovering a hummingbird whirring around the hanging basket my in-laws gave us:

Lower left, just above the eaves of the neighbors' roof

I am also thrilled about having a way to keep cabbage worm butterflies out of my kale. Apparently tulle works well as a netting cover, even when it's bright pink stuff left over from tutu-making. Of course, I accidentally set one of the bricks on one of the long-suffering baby kale plants, but it seems to have forgiven me.

Then there's the up-and-coming fruit. This second-year blueberry plant is trying its hardest to please:

One of the surest ways to make me smile.

...and our cherry sapling is ripening its first fruit.

Then there are old roses and new roses, about to bloom their hearts out:

And the elderberry starts that my mom gave me just this spring are budding.

* * *

Music of the week: If you feature music regularly on your blog, and then you play a game of street hockey** with a musician, I think you're contractually obligated to feature them at first opportunity. But I would anyway—I've always loved John's voice and the thought he puts into his lyrics.

He's also an all-around good guy and one of our best hockey forwards. :)

* * *

The unfortunate thing about having a little cold is that it doesn't get you out of housecleaning. Lou would understand, but I'm not sick enough to overlook the hair in the bathtub and the even distribution of cat litter throughout the house. Off I go.

Happy weekend!

* The Dumbledore quote: "It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."—from Chamber of Secrets, chapter 18

** The Great Annual Memorial Day Street Hockey Game, as I think of it. This was its fourteenth year. I'd never miss it if I could help (though sometimes people can't help... it wasn't the same without you, Matt and Darci!) All you street hockey Bible study friends, you're wonderful. <3

Currently Reading: Shadow of the Giant

She had come here from Rwanda, as humans had come out of Africa for fifty thousand years. Not as part of a tribe that climbed down into caves to paint their stories and worship their gods. Not as part of a wave of invaders. But... wasn't she here to take a baby out of a woman's arms? To claim that what came from this stranger's womb would belong to her from now on? Just as so many people had stood on the hills overlooking the bay and said, This is mine now, and it always was mine, regardless of the people who happen to think it belongs to them and have held this place all their lives.

Mine mine mine. That was the curse and power of human beings—that what they saw and loved, they had to have. They could share it with other people but only if they conceived of those people as being somehow their own. What we own is ours. What you own should also be ours. In fact, you own nothing, if we want it. Because you are nothing. We are the real people,  you are only posing as people in order to try to deprive us of what God means us to have.

And now she understood for the first time the magnitude of what Graff and Mazer Rackham and, yes, even Peter were all trying to do.

They were trying to get human beings to define themselves as all belonging to one tribe.

Author: Orson Scott Card

Synopsis: Bean, dying of giantism, doesn't have a lot of time to do the great things he has to do: aid Peter Wiggin in creating worldwide hegemony, and find his own eight missing children. Nor does he have a lot of time to live with his wife, Petra, and their son. With just months allotted to him, he's all over the world, leading armies into the final battles that will free their nations to ratify Peter's constitution, and getting the help of the International Fleet in tracking down his and Petra's IVF babies. As the clock ticks down for Bean and the chance for hegemony, the choices are made—not just by Bean and Petra, but by the other Battle Schoolers as well as Peter and the I.F.—that will set the course for post-Formic Wars human history.

Notes: This is the fourth of the Shadow books, and in it, Card picks up the question of what happens to a lot of young people who have never known anything but war, as Ender's Jeesh and other key Battle School graduates take their places among the heads of state. It's thoughtfully done, if not carried to great personal depths in every case; so much happens in this story that a lot of the political maneuvers simply have to be summed up, and some of the important character development happens in just one or two scenes. Card has quite the knack for doing great things with lone scenes, however.

Of those great lone scenes, I was surprised at which characters' big moments affected me the most. This was Bean's book, and Petra's, and yet I have loved Bean and Petra for five books. I did not expect to love Peter. That astonishing little delight provided for a hefty share of the sweetness in the bittersweet ending, and in some ways, this was his book as well. The narrative hops perspective a lot, giving the reader sight into the various Battle Schoolers' struggles to shape the world and their own lives; it focuses on Bean and Petra, but Peter's genius and his motivations, his hard work and his healing are the central tale.

As for the Battle Schoolers' struggles, Card structures the military movements with outstanding logic, best as I can tell; he appears to have done his research thoroughly on the various countries involved, and everything from motive for action to the playing out of battle upon available terrain seemed thought-through and believable to me. Someone more knowledgeable of strategy than myself may catch mistakes, but the only thing I saw that resembled a flaw was in how briefly big events had to be summarized—probably a consequence both of word count limits and the fact that not every active country had a Battle School graduate to follow around.

But that abbreviating of key events was well made up for by the thoughtfully optimistic perspective on life and humanity that carries Card's work. If Shadow Puppets came off slightly moralistic, Shadow of the Giant reverted to true Orson Scott Card empathy and brilliance. The comprehension of human nature and culture, the compassionate philosophy, and the powerful, ever-hopeful drive toward light and redemption are overwhelmingly beautiful even amid grief.

And there is grief in this book. This is a tale of hope and happiness and suffering together, and it was both the sorrow and the beauty of it—and the truth of it, for that matter—that had me in tears for the last thirty pages this morning. Card shows redemption working in the most unexpected characters, of which Peter is only the most central, and his latter scenes allow for the existence and goodness of a God who has, as in Psalm 18, 'made darkness his hiding place.' It was those things, even more than the sorrow, that put my eyeliner to the test. (Both eyeliner and mascara survived the meltdown. I'm impressed.)

Card sold me on the ending, but I can imagine some readers being a touch less satisfied. A handful of threads are left unresolved for sequels' sake, and the heartache and sweetness are pretty inextricable. I'll recommend the entire Shadow series wholeheartedly to anyone who has read much of the Ender saga and loved it.

For anyone who has not read the Ender saga: if I taught writing, Ender's Game and Speaker for the Dead would be required reading for an understanding of how to write humanity; but even for those only looking for some good reading, I recommend those two books almost without reserve. They are some of the best modern fiction I've ever come across.

Harry Potter Book Club: Sorcerer's Stone, Chapter 7

Warrior Girl's homemade wands.

Last week we talked wands, so for those of us who can't quite justify shopping at the WB shop or Alivans, here's a link on how to make your own. Ollivander doesn't mention papier-mâché, but if he didn't use it, perhaps Gregorovitch did. But as Seth pointed out this week, you'll want to make sure it's long enough.

Masha began the conversation on classism in the story, with the probability of much more to come (yes, Masha and Seth wrote in one post together, so the wands and classism commentary are at the same link):

Harry is somewhat outside class - as lost in suburbia as he would be along side Draco, watching with longing the pleasantly proletariat Weasleys knock about at the train station. It’s an opportunity to set him up to do ‘great things’ formed either by a connection to and welcoming of the good that can grow in all of the classes he can see - but never belong to; or else a rejection of these pockets of belonging and all the people who fit easily in one or the other. I don’t know that Rowling managed either in the end..but right now, Harry is still in formation - full of potential and the loneliness it brings.

Christie talked about expectations:

So what is a boy to do?  When he is already "known" by a whole class—no, a whole world—of people, yet still inherently unknown?  How does he establish himself as an individual?  And how does he climb out from under the shadow of such a daunting figure, someone he can't even be allowed to name in order to stand against face-to-face and ask, "Who are you?  And, more importantly, who does that make me?"

And there's magic to be had over at Kelly Orazi's, too, as she discusses similarities between Mr. Dursley and  Uncle Andrew from The Chronicles of Narnia:

While the others are able to hear beautiful music and understand the language of animals, [Uncle Andrew] and Jadis (the White Witch of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe) cannot and will not understand. The narrator states, "For what you see and hear depends a good deal where you're standing: it also depends on what sort of person you are" (125). Like Mr. Dursley, Uncle Andrew talks himself out believing what he is seeing and hearing...

And now, witches and wizards and Muggle ladies and gentlemen... are you ready for Chapter 7? This is a big chapter.

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Read: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, Chapter 7: The Sorting Hat

All right, firs' years! Which House are you in?



I know where I belong.

I'm Hufflepuff and I'm proud

Yeah, I'm not one of the crowd

I'm in the right House, baby, I was Sorted this way*

Did you know that Hufflepuff has produced the fewest Dark wizards of any Hogwarts House? That you get doused in vinegar if you try and get into our dormitories without knowing what you're doing? That our dormitories are a lot like hobbit holes—round, underground, comfortable, and with easy proximity to the kitchens? That Professor Sprout keeps lots of interesting plants in the common room, some of which sing and dance? That, like the badger which serves as our emblem, we're quiet but extremely tenacious?

Okay, so that one's mostly aimed at Slytherin.
But Slytherins are the ones who mostly treat us like idiots, so, yeah.

All right, I'll try and rein in the House pride. Too much boasting isn't considered seemly among us, after all.

Also, we got Edward Cullen. *grins*
Composite by loveeisGonee.

Potential Discussion Points:

1. The Houses. Here we begin one of the more controversial aspects of the British Wizarding educational system: the dividing of Hogwarts into rival houses based on choice virtues or ideals. The rivalry is the source of much fun and team spirit and delight, which, as you've seen above, I don't have much trouble displaying wholeheartedly. On the other hand, that same rivalry has been known to cause serious problems and to exacerbate the usual competition and bullying among students—which my Hufflepuff heart can't be anything less than horrified over.

Discussion could go a million ways, but here are the dividing lines, as they ostensibly stand:

Shields via the Harry Potter Lexicon

Gryffindor

Values: Courage; "daring, nerve and chivalry"
Elemental correspondence: Fire
Emblem: Lion
Colors: Red and gold
Head of House: Minerva McGonagall, Transfiguration Mistress
Ghost: Nearly Headless Nick
Teaches: Standing up for others, and for what is right
Weaknesses: Seeks glory, tends to believe itself to be the best of the bunch
Arch-rival: Slytherin

...HPL: Slytherin

Slytherin:

Values: Ambition, cleverness, status
Elemental correspondence: Water
Emblem: Snake
Colors: Green and silver
Head of House: Severus Snape, Potions Master
Ghost: The Bloody Baron
Teaches: Cunning, competition
Weaknesses: Arrogance, slyness, sometimes meanness
Arch-rival: Gryffindor

HPL: Ravenclaw

Ravenclaw:

Values: Intelligence, wit, ready mind
Elemental correspondence: Air
Emblem: Raven
Colors: Blue and bronze
Head of House: Filius Flitwick, Charms Master
Ghost: The Grey Lady
Teaches: Logic, reasoning
Weaknesses: Snobbery, "know-it-all" tendencies
Arch-rival: Hufflepuff

HPL: Hufflepuff

Hufflepuff: 

Values: Loyalty, hard work, inclusiveness
Elemental correspondence: Earth
Emblem: Badger
Colors: Yellow and black
Head of House: Pomona Sprout, Herbology Mistress
Ghost: The Fat Friar
Teaches: Work ethic, kindness, universal dignity
Weaknesses: Often low achieving, over-simplistic
Arch-rival: Ravenclaw

All that should be something to start from, in symbolism studies and sources of rivalry.

2. Harry gets his first sight of several important people in this chapter. Among them are:

• Albus Dumbledore, whose hilarious opening speech is the introduction to a supremely clever wizard who has learned not to take himself or anyone else too seriously.
• Severus Snape, who obviously hates Harry from the outset—an unfortunate position for a teacher to take—and who seems somehow connected to Harry's past.
• The pain in his own scar. Anything more than that, and we're straight into spoiler territory.
• Peeves the poltergeist. With Peeves, Rowling proved her imagination to be wickedly funny. I'm glad he doesn't haunt my house, but he's one of the details that makes Hogwarts seem not only real but well worth visiting.

3. All right, this might not make much of a discussion point, but I love that the ceiling of the Great Hall is enchanted to look like the sky—full of stars, when Harry first sees it. If I were a Hogwarts student, the Astronomy classes would definitely be among my favorites.

Discuss!


* I love this Not Literally song. Advisory: being a Gaga parody, that is not a modestly-dressed bunch of girls in the music video. Fair warning! But the song is awesome. If you want to check out Not Literally's other House songs, here are their Gryffindor, Slytherin, and Ravenclaw anthems.

P.S. Don't look too closely at my wand. It has a sneaky habit of taking the form of a knitting needle.

Sunny Side Up and other stories

So, the interstate bridge that collapsed last night is just a few miles south of us:

Photo: Joshua Trujillo, seattlepi.com

Which meant that I spent last evening calling family in the area and then watching Facebook and the news to make sure everyone was safe. As it turns out, no one died—something of a miracle; the Skagit River is something like eighteen feet deep there, and just shy of ice water this time of year. Had it happened a couple of hours earlier, during rush hour... that's a busy bridge, and it's hard to imagine that everyone would have made it out of the water alive.

Traffic is going to be a real bugbear for months to come, but I'm going to try and smile through it. Thanks be to God, we were spared tragedy. Moore, OK has worse to deal with by many orders of magnitude. Thoughts and prayers are with you, Moore.

* * *

Doctor Who fans? Buffy fans? I've seen only one episode of the former, and none of the latter, but I suspect I'd be addicted to both if I were willing to prioritize them over blogging, which is what I'd have to give up to have time for television. If you're a fan, though, check out Kat and Curt's TV Re-View, a podcast in which a couple of Mythgard Institute students—Katherine's a Hog's Head friend—watch and analyze both stories. I almost wish I was an addict, because this podcast is probably a lot of fun.

* * *

Speaking of The Hog's Head, it's under major reconstructive surgery right now, for any of you wondering why no one's posting. No one's posting because nargles got in and shut nearly all of us out. Tech elves and Headmaster Travis are working away on getting it cleaned out, but it's proving to be about as difficult as the doxy removal in Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.

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OK, normal blog post detail!

* * *

This peony looks oddly like fried eggs, sunny side up:

But it blooms wildly, and I love it. The traditional ones are hard at work, too:

The snowball bush is still in full bloom:

And the maple tree is making these funny little things, which I don't have enough botany to name properly:

And we have two tiny lily of the valley blossoms!

...seen in context here:

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Music of the week: King of Instruments feature! I need to do these regularly. Dad St. Hilaire sent me this one recently: Bach's Sinfonia, played by Diane Bish.



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Off to make dinner... Happy weekend! And yes, there should be a Harry Potter post on Monday. Even though I will be off playing street hockey most of the day. :D

Currently Reading: The Last Unicorn

"Do you know what I am, butterfly?" the unicorn asked hopefully, and he replied, "Excellent well, you're a fishmonger. You're my everything, you are my sunshine, you are old and gray and full of sleep, you're my pickle-face, consumptive Mary Jane." He paused, fluttering his wings against the wind, and added conversationally, "Your name is a golden bell hung in my heart. I would break my body to pieces to call you once by your name."

"Say my name, then," the unicorn begged him. "If you know my name, tell it to me."

"Rumplestiltskin," the butterfly answered happily. "Gotcha! You don't get no medal." He jigged and twinkled on her horn, singing, "Won't you come home, Bill Bailey, won't you come home, where once he could not go. Buckle down, Winsocki, go and catch a falling star. Clay lies still, but blood's a rover, so I should be called kill-devil all the parish over." His eyes were gleaming scarlet in the glow of the unicorn's horn.

She sighed and plodded on, both amused and disappointed. It serves you right, she told herself. You know better than to expect a butterfly to know your name. All they know are songs and poetry, and anything else they hear. They mean well, but they can't keep things straight. And why should they? They die so soon.

Author: Peter S. Beagle

Synopsis: The unicorn lives in a lilac wood where spring never fades, and she knows no sorrow. Upon hearing a rumor that she is the last unicorn in the world, however, she sets out to find the rest of her kind. Joined in her quest by the magician Schmendrick, whose unreliable magic causes more problems than it solves, and gaunt, bad-tempered Molly Grue, whose one grace is her love for the unicorn, she must brave the castle of King Haggard, where the Red Bull awaits her—the demon which drove all the other unicorns out of the world—and so does a more painful fate: that of experiencing mortal fears and loves.

Notes: The best books need more than one read for proper absorption, and this is one of them, which means that at the moment, I can only give it half the review it ought to have. Written in thickly poetic prose, with dreamlike aphorisms of original make broadcast throughout the text, it demands attention and thought beyond the one scatterbrained plunge through I could manage this week. I'm more than a little sorry that the library wants its copy back today.

There are a thousand ideas running loose in the story: the unicorn's mystique and immortality as related to by the humans, the thorough self-sacrifice demanded by love, the effects of greed and fear versus joy and hope on the human life, the effects of the physical body and mortality on the soul, and especially the need for—in the terms of the tale—the presence of unicorns in the world. There are striking Christian parallels, though I don't know enough about the author to tell whether he meant them, or how. The story itself is a wandering, often dark fairy tale, but it's drawn along by a single bright light that flickers but holds true.

Schmendrick and Molly, the unicorn's primary companions, are fascinating in that neither of them starts off as particularly sympathetic, but both earn their place. Prince Lír, too, is an odd mix of heroic and awkward. King Haggard, for all his badness, is not the sort of villain who can be indiscriminately hated, and the reader even winds up feeling sorry for the skull on the wall and partially losing sympathy for the unicorn in her mortal phase. It's uncomfortable at times, but the characters grow throughout the story, and the final juxtaposition of joy and suffering manages to be both painful and beautiful.

There was a moment toward the end where I was reminded acutely of The Little White Horse, another beautifully thick unicorn fantasy written for children but meant for the childlike. The two stories aren't much alike in terms of characters or plot, but both catch the exquisite bliss and sorrow inspired by the mystical beauty of the unicorn. They share a scene, more or less, albeit to different purposes, but it's hard to say whether Beagle's book owes anything directly to Goudge's twenty-two-years-older story, and not just because the older tale is a human drama touched by a unicorn and the newer is a unicorn's drama touched by humans. Goudge wrote a clearer, jewel-toned story with bright, untainted optimism; Beagle wrote in softer, more diluted colors, with a bit more modern sadness and a little less confidence in the goodness of either humanity or magic. Goudge is more my usual style, but I suspect Beagle appeals more naturally to most present-day readers.

The story meanders a bit, but that allows it to be contemplative in ways that heavily plot-driven tales rarely manage. It's the kind of read that can be picked up and put down and picked up again, thought through and relished, and while I didn't have time for a second cover-to-cover read, I did go back over a few key parts. Even that was enough to suggest it would only get better with time and consideration, and prove that it deserves the label of classic.

I've no idea how I made it to thirty-five without having ever read this book, especially since in childhood I saw the first part of the animated movie and have wondered about the ending ever since. Fortunately, I've never lost my little-girl love for unicorns. The tale of this unicorn is one I hope to have in my own library before long.

Harry Potter Book Club: Sorcerer's Stone, Chapters 5-6

Art by Alkanet.

There's nothing more magical than fairy tales, and Christie's last post recognized our Harry's early similarities to a popular one:

the recurring theme of chapters two and three is nothing short of a Cinderella tale, a boy-who-in-reality-is-a-prince adopted by relatives and treated as a servant in his own house.... as far as situations go, it couldn't have been much worse for him and he couldn't have come out better.

She also covered the timelessness of the tale—that is, its clean avoidance of obvious references to pop culture, which would date it very quickly. The story would feel dated even nowadays if Rowling had built her world into the brand names and celebrities and public ideals and debates of summer 1991, which is the actual time period in which these few chapters of the story occur. As she didn't, however, children and the childlike should be able to read Harry Potter in a hundred years as easily as we now read Frances Hodgson Burnett's A Little Princess.

With a tip of pointy hat, then, I recommend Christie's post; also, her picture of her own homemade Knickerbocker Glory. Masha had the week off since her piece was already up, so we'll move forward. Before we do, however: the first butterbeer attempt!

From Masha's kitchen:

1 pint chocolate stout (Jenna used cold stout, but room temperature would make for a warmer drink)
1 pint vanilla gelato

Melt gelato over medium heat, stirring frequently, until gelato simmers (but don't boil it!) Whip on high speed until frothy. Stir in stout, pour immediately into mugs, and serve.

They come in PINTS???

Stir three times clockwise to one time counterclockwise

Every wizarding family needs a KitchenAid mixer;
you'll never get such good results with frothing spells

Make swirling motion with wand, say "Tempero"

One for the wizard, one for the witch

Got butterbeer?

The result met nearly all of my criteria for a good butterbeer recipe: 1) it was alcoholic, 2) it would almost certainly be good either warm or cold (for cold, just chill the stout well and don't heat the gelato past melting), and 3) it was foamy, with a nice, smooth consistency that wasn't at all watery or soda-poppy.

Also, it tasted good. This is where most butterbeer recipes fail; they're usually cream soda based and sweet enough to make your teeth ache. The stout gives this one a strong, pleasantly sharp flavor underneath the cream. It's like a cappucino translated from coffee language to alcohol. It did not taste buttery or butterscotchy, but that was the closest thing to a fault I could find with it. This recipe's going to be hard to top.

And now, Accio this week's study!

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Source.

Read: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, Chapters 5-6

(We'll probably take more chapters per week once we're into Quidditch games and chasing around Hogwarts, but there's so much in these early chapters that I don't want to blast through them at the expense of good discussion.)

I am feeling very tempted to try this pumpkin pasty recipe. It could happen. I'll take pictures if I do.

Potential Discussion Points:

1. The amount of foreshadowing in these two chapters is astounding. It's hard to talk about all that without spoilers, but seriously... Gringotts and Griphook and thieves, James' wand being "excellent for transfiguration", the wand cores, Dumbledore's accomplishments, Harry's being "singled out"...

Holly tree, by Colin Smith. Source.

2. The symbolism of the wand cores and woods fascinates me, although I don't know much. I don't quite trust the websites Google turned up at the top, but here's what first results and a little comparing with the story got me:

• mahogany: "strength and endurance"
• willow: varied symbolism from use in the Jewish Feast of Tabernacles to Celtic association with the moon, which would work alchemically within the books
• holly: unconditional love, sacrifice, and reincarnation
• yew: dark, complicated symbolism involving immortality and death

Again, however, that's a Google search for you. Masha, this is your area of expertise! You're welcome to debunk any of my research, above and below. But here's Rowling on Harry's and Voldemort's wand woods, anyway:

"It was not an arbitrary decision: holly has certain connotations that were perfect for Harry, particularly when contrasted with the traditional associations of yew, from which Voldemort’s wand is made. European tradition has it that the holly tree (the name comes from ‘holy’) repels evil, while yew, which can achieve astonishing longevity (there are British yew trees over two thousand years old), can symbolise both death and resurrection; the sap is also poisonous." —Quoted from the Harry Potter wiki entry on wand wood*, referencing a now-dead link to Rowling's site

Art by Giova94.
Feel free to peruse the wand woods and cores,
decide what combination would be most likely to choose you,
and post the results in the combox!

According to Pottermore, my own wand is vine, like Hermione's, with a phoenix feather core, 14 1/2 inches long, and pliant. I like the vine wood's reputation for sensitivity and attraction to "personalities with hidden depths". But if I think outside Pottermore, I'm tempted to lean toward the likelihood of ending up with a unicorn hair core; I have sort of a devotion to innocence. The fiery rebirth of the phoenix is a moving concept as well, however, and the reputed flexibility of it appeals to another part of me, so I suppose things could go either way.

3. Hedwig, Harry's quiet white owl, is probably named after St. Hedwig of Silesia. St. Hedwig—feast day, 16 October—is the patron saint over the death of children.

4. Young students' first entry into the magical world as initiates is beautiful, even mystagogical. It starts with an act of faith—running headlong into a concrete barrier to get onto Platform 9 3/4—and continues with the Keeper of the Keys at Hogwarts leading them to the school on a boat ride, heading their procession up to the castle, and knocking three times on the door.

It reminds me a little of initiation into the sacred mysteries (sacraments) as a Catholic, actually. I don't recall our deacon marching my group of candidates up to the door of the church and knocking, but I believe that's sometimes done. Baptism itself is an initiation rite, though I suppose talking about Dennis Creevey getting dumped into the lake on his boat ride would be getting ahead of the game a little. And we won't even whisper about a certain event involving a silver doe yet.

5. "I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things—terrible, yes, but great."

6. The Weasleys—oh, the Weasleys, all foreshadowing their future. Molly is immediately empathetic and motherly, Ginny curious, Ron stubborn and self-protective but friendly, Fred and George hilarious, Percy self-important. Bill and Charlie get mention, and though Arthur doesn't, I wind up thinking of him all the same. I love the Weasleys.



I also love Ministry of Magic. They're probably going to get a lot of their videos embedded in these posts.

7. Another of the best naming jobs in the story: Draco Malfoy. Draco is Latin for dragon, and Malfoy is basically the French mal foi: bad faith. I'd call that a spoiler, but Draco doesn't waste any time making his snobbery and meanness known to Harry and reader alike.

8. Hermione Granger. I love our first sight of her—bossy, know-it-all, sniffy, and yet she's trying to help poor Neville find his toad. That's our girl!

Lots of things to talk about this week, and as always, those are just the options that came to me! Take from these topics or pick your own, and have fun!



* I only discovered the HP Wiki entries after doing all that Google search, which is why I didn't just take everything from there... silly Jenna!

Mopping to the Beat and other stories

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I'm short on words today because I've got an hour before a three-day scramble that's going to take in four different towns ranging 30 minutes to nearly three hours from home. And I want to spend some time working on my book. I want to, actually want to, which is amazing. Of course, I've been trying to get everything else done first, but at least I cleaned house to techno music. That makes it go faster. Even while taking a little time to dance.

Right, where was I? Short on words. But here, pictures:

Stars of Bethlehem... one of my favorite blooms of the year

Snowball bush

Golden chain... Mom, this is what that baby bush I gave you
will grow up to be someday, if I didn't kill it in the transplanting

Rhododendron.
This bush puts its whole heart into flowering.
I love it.

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Music of the week: After a listen to Christie's Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone playlist, my first response was: Loreena McKennitt, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE?



She had me at 'Dante'. I'm already trying to learn it on the piano.

Also proven by Christie's playlist: Seth was right; I do like Maire/Moya Brennan. How could I not like Enya's sister? Music from her coming after I have time to listen around to more of her repertoire on YouTube and pick a favorite.

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I've finally got my coffee and about thirty minutes. That ought to be enough to get a couple of paragraphs down.

Happy weekend!