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So, my parents and I went to Morehead today -- re: the nearest town to actually shop for anything apart from groceries and lumber. My parents went to Wal-Mart to get presents for me, because (as an only child) Christmas is still about buying as much as possible for me. Er. It's strange, now that I've been introduced to a world where people buy one or two gifts for one another. Stunningly, I have actually gotten things for my parents this year. I bought one of those Samuel Adams holiday packs for dad, as he's wanted one for years, and I'm knitting a scarf for mom.

Anyway, the actual reason I'm posting about all this isn't to discuss my family's odd Christmas habits, but instead to mention books. I hung around the only bookstore in Morehead while they were shopping, and after much painful hemming and hawing bought The Legend of Sleepy Hollow and selections from the Sketch Book by Washington Irving and Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. I've never read any Austen, and only "Rip Van Winkle" by Irving. I once had an acquaintance tell me my writing reminded her of Irving, so we'll see how that goes. And, as I'm considering specializing in Victorian lit., I thought I should probably get off my ass and read something by Austen. Good forces of the world willing, it'll be more entertaining than Jane Eyre, which I read last winter break.

If I remember correctly, may be "excited" (that is, bemused and vaguely, laissez-faire interested) in the fact that I will read the Austen book. I think she has a thing for Darcy? : )

Books I didn't buy but wanted to: A collection of plays by Wilde, because it had a scratch on the cover; The Adventures of Cavalier and Klay by Chabon, because it was expensive; La Morte d'Arthur, by Malory, because I'm not sure of the quality of the "translation"; The Unauthorized Autobiography of Lemony Snicket, because it was in paperback and I prefer to have it in hardcover; a collection of all Lord Byron's poetry; and a collection of ghost stories by Edith Wharton -- a professor of mine thought it was shameful that I hadn't read any Wharton, but the novels of hers in the store seemed unappealing at best. I had to force myself not to use my debit card, and stick to the choice-limiting cash I had on hand, because I need that money for rent, and possibly vehicle repair.

I did get my parents to pick up a frame for the poster I got -- I e-mailed the agent/wife of the artist who painted the cover of Peter Pan in Scarlet, mentioning how great it was, and asking if any posters were available. She sent me one, for free, as they'd just got some in from the publishers for promotional purposes. I'll get a picture up soon -- the artist personalized it. They're both sweet people, it seems. So, as they lost a promotional poster in the deal, I'll tell all of you, buy a copy of Peter Pan in Scarlet, or at least read it, some way, somehow. It's a really good book.

So, that was my day. My parents are finished wrapping my gifts, apparently, so I guess I can leave my room now.

So, I went out and bought a cribbage board today. Because I don't own enough games no one will play with me, sure -- next up is Munchkin and the super-expensive Arkham Horror, then I'll just start making paper-airplanes out of money.

So, right now, I'm watching TV Land's collation of TV Catchphrases -- it's neat. Welcome Back, Kotter's under examination now, and I love that show. I used to have Kotter's family stories memorized.

It did get me thinking, earlier, about the claustrophobia of television -- so many shows, especially sitcoms, have four or five cameras, and that's it. I mean, The Cosby Show had the kitchen, from one angle, the living room, and the bedrooms. That was pretty much it. When we left those settings, we were disoriented, confused, but also excited and a bit giddy. In contrast (and because I watched them one after another every afternoon for years), on Cheers the single setting with its few cameras was natural. The show was about a bar, so we had to be in the bar. Let me see, with the bar counter, the edge where Norm and Cliff sat, the view of the tables, the less-used but still common view of the counter on that side where Frasier sat whenever Lillith came with him, the office (from two angles), and the game room made at least seven views of the same place. Whenever we saw someone's home, like Sam's apartment, it actually felt intimate, and for the first few moments after the cut we feel like we're intruding -- a bit, anyway.

Yeah, that's about it. Man, I hate Leave it to Beaver. Not era-hatred, I love Dobi Gillis (or however you spell it).

Hm.  I thought I would take a few moments to discuss the books I've read recently.

The I'll start with Swords and Ice Magic.  It's the sixth book in the collection of pieces about Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser -- not in the "series," as really Leiber wrote short stories, and they were later collected; so, this is the sixth collection.  The stories were excellent, as I've come to expect from Leiber.  I don't have much to say about them, really -- rather, nothing I haven't said already.  They're cornerstones of fantasy, the Lankhmar stories (named after the city most of the stories happen in or near), and anyone with more than a superficial interest in the genre should probably read them.  They deal with topics such as religion, philosophy, and the toll "adventuring" takes better than most books written now.  Or anytime, really.  Leiber set out to writer adult sword and sorcery (a term he coined, incidentally), with complex characters, and he succeeded.

Then I read Fleming's Goldfinger.  Ugh.  It wasn't too good.  If you've seen the movie adaptation, hold the golf scene in your mind, if you will.  It's a cunning piece of adventure movie cinema, yes?  A smooth, smarmy scene wherein all the characters lie, cheat, and smile, while the tension builds in the audience.  In the book, the game takes two chapters, and Fleming lovingy describes every hole -- all eighteen of them.  Segments of text such as,  "Now Bond was angry with himself.  He, and he alone, had lost that hole.  He had taken three putts from twenty feet.  He really must pull himself together and get going" (095) serve as drama in this book.  And, really, Bond does a single thing that's remarkable -- he tapes a note up and leaves it in an airplane bathroom.  Apart from that, it's good luck and the intelligence organizations of two countries that really keep Auric from robbing Fort Knox.  Fleming doesn't even nod toward the sense of time and space Aristotle described -- settings are flung about like birdseed at hippie weddings.  All the planning for the heist, for example, is done in a warehouse in New York, and they truck down to Kentucky the day beforehand.  Instead of, you know, planning nearby, for practical and thematic concerns both.  Bah.  Oh, this book also features a lesbian who gets the hots for Bond the moment she sees him, and blames her former lesbianism on abuse as, "naturally," she was molested by her brother, as she was from the south.  What?

Anyway.  After that I read Artemis Fowl: The Arctic Incident.  And it was fabulous, no surprise there.  Really, there's no reason to be avoiding these books -- Artemis is blazingly intelligent, and really does shift his mindset through the books so far (a good sign).  Hilarious references to mythology, brazenly reinvented (such as a centaur inventor/IT guy with a specially-modified swivel chair) speckle the books.  My only complaint was minor -- this book sets up Artemis's thawing, if you'll excuse the ice metaphor referring to the Arctic book, and as such it focused on the side characters, such as Holly and Butler, more than Artemis, at times.  It's not bad, and not even bothersome, but it did lack a little of the verve involved with the first, which was just a great thrill-ride over-the-shoulder of a criminal genius pulling off his plans.

Then I started a book recommended to me by a friend, called Black Sun Rising.  It's the first in a trilogy by C. S. Friedman, and is nearly 600 pages long in paperback.  Now, for the most part, I swore off books like this.  I haven't read a new Jordan book in years, and gave up on the Sword of Truth soon afterwards.  A year ago I broke down and read the first book of Martin's massive series, but primarily because I meant to meet  him and thought I should read something of his before pumping him for information.  It was better than the others, but only by a bit.  This book, Friedman's book, is very good, though.  It's about a planet colonized by humans, set about 1000 years after they make planetfall -- so they've spread as one would expect.  The problem is a natural force the colonists named the "fae," which is a lot like ley line energy.  It responds to psychological stimulus, and so people can "Work" healing and visions, but their fears and anxieties can create "demons."  It's a neat, sci-fi take on fantasy.  Given that the world responds to mental pressure, people can't rely on technology -- ships reserve one person, at least, to stare at the steam engines and think about how they're working properly, because if any of the passengers think "oh crap the engines are going to die and we'll be stranded" the fae would respond and kill the engines.  Given the anxiety a lot of us (me especially) feel getting on planes, that's an excellent way to drive home the setting concept -- what if engines responded that way here?  A great idea, really, and well-written.  Not great, not earth-shattering prose, but better-than-average, with good, earthy ways of looking at things that shift appropriately when the POV changes.  Also, she's very good about creating people with good and bad -- the person who is, almost literally, the equivalent of Sauron is sympathetic in this book.  I look forward to the rest of the books (and the rest of this one -- I think I'll probably finish it by Sunday.  I guess I actually read more slowly than other people, or something, though I used to read books this size in a day and a half back in high school). 

This evening I took a break from Black Sun Rising (not through any fault of the book, but just because I was really eager to read this other book) to read The Reptile Room.  It's the second book in the Series of Unfortunate Events, and it was just a lot of fun.  I think I finished it in, I dunno, two hours?  That's about right.  Fun, still as wordy as ever, and not actually quite as horrible as the first. 

And that's it.  Back to the Friedman book. 

"One thing which I began to suspect, and which I now fear I know, is that my uncle's death was far from natural."

That's actually a picture I took, but I thought the quotation from "The Call of Cthulhu" apropos.