Band, Gym, Leftover Library
The particularly astute among my readers may have thought to check my Book Journal for yesterday's entry. Then again, even I had other things to do. But I think other people might like reading these: A Long Fatal Love Chase by Louisa May Alcott (if you're either in the mood for a melodramatic-gothic novel, or to be amused by quantities of melodrama written really well), and Anansi Boys by Neil Gaiman. Let me just take a little while and drool all over Neil Gaiman. Figuratively.
I was first* introduced to the works of Neil Gaiman at George's aunt's house. His uncle is a rabid collecter of lots of cool things, such as comic books, DVDs, manga, etc. So a lot of Daves** came over for Easter, and Tim asked George's uncle whether or not he had any of Neil Gaiman's graphic novels. Of course he did. And Tim and I basically locked ourselves in a room and read and looked and drank in all weekend long. I never did finish the Sandman series, and I think I would like to buy them all, selfishly, and lock myself in a room until I could finish the entire thing.
*It took a while to register that he was co-author of Good Omens with Terry Pratchett.
**It's a long story. Will "college friends" do?
You see, he didn't just write the story and have somebody else illustrate it: he gave directions as to what the illustrations should be, and had input into the style. So you have the visual equivalent of a flashback in terms of composition at the same time you have a repeated phrase ... it's just beautiful. The characters were eerily real and vibrant, and the humor... He's British. If you know what I'm talking about, further explanation would be unnecessary; if you don't, I really can't explain any better.
So then I found that he'd written other things: The Day I Swapped My Dad for Two Goldfish, The Wolves in the Walls, Stardust, and Neverwhere. Then came Coraline and American Gods. And now was Anansi Boys. It was everything I hoped it would be, and then some. If I should happen to be given that book, it would be a good thing. (If you're not my husband, assume I'm not hinting at you; I'm not quite that mercenary, unless you have an extra copy you're dying to give me, in which case I'll graciously and gratefully accept.)
My advice to you is to at least read one of his books. The Day I Swapped My Dad for Two Goldfish and The Wolves in the Walls are short "children's books." Coraline is short-ish. Stardust, Neverwhere, American Gods, and Anansi Boys are good-length novels. Good Omens is hard to describe, and after several valiant attempts (you'll have to take my word for them), I'll simply suggest that you get at least one copy.
*** So I went to the library yesterday, and tonight I had band after which I went to the gym. (I know! Four days in a row! I'm surprised, too, except that I can read while doing the elliptical-thing.)
At band, we decided on our motto: "Don't be sorry, just be better." This was shortly followed by the quip: "Let us play to the Lord." Someone commented, "We're an official group now; we have an inside joke." To explain: Dn. Tom said to start at measure 68 (70 is marked), and the trumpets didn't start at the right place, so he 'explained,' "two before 70," to which they replied, "OHHH." So then he started us again, "measure 68, or two-before-70 for the trumpets."
An exchange:
Dn. Tom: "It's a ton better than last week."
Vinny: "That's because we practiced so much."
Vinny's section-mate*: "Good one, Vinny."
Dn. Tom: "If you weren't a trombone player**, Vinny, I'd believe you."
*They all sit behind me. I'm in front of Dn. Tom, a flute to my left and a clarinet to my right, and a wall of brass behind me. Most of them I haven't met before, but I'm trying to learn names.
**Dn. Tom has at least one degree in music. He plays trombone.
In more official news, the HCCB is now an official student group of the SGA, and we get a non-voting speaking role on the SGA board which meets every other Tuesday. Not that anyone reading here particularly wants to know that, but I wrote it down on the same piece of paper as the others, and as Jim is finding out, I am particularly garrulous tonight.
*** In other other news, I'm taking Peterbird and running south for the weekend to the long-awaited Grandma's 90th Birthday Party. Maya and her brothers will be there, and my fun cousins, so we got a larger flash card for the camera. There is also a Half-Price Books near-ish the hotel.
Please pray for Peterbird as he sprints through his papers (three to do: two-and-a-half done this week, just one to finish and he's hoping to do that before we leave town on Friday morning).
I meant to work on the computer instead of blog, but I think I'll go stew myself in the cauldron until I'm all squishy and prune-fingered, then stretch out on the crisp-sheeted bed and refuse to exist until the early early morning. Gack.
I was first* introduced to the works of Neil Gaiman at George's aunt's house. His uncle is a rabid collecter of lots of cool things, such as comic books, DVDs, manga, etc. So a lot of Daves** came over for Easter, and Tim asked George's uncle whether or not he had any of Neil Gaiman's graphic novels. Of course he did. And Tim and I basically locked ourselves in a room and read and looked and drank in all weekend long. I never did finish the Sandman series, and I think I would like to buy them all, selfishly, and lock myself in a room until I could finish the entire thing.
*It took a while to register that he was co-author of Good Omens with Terry Pratchett.
**It's a long story. Will "college friends" do?
You see, he didn't just write the story and have somebody else illustrate it: he gave directions as to what the illustrations should be, and had input into the style. So you have the visual equivalent of a flashback in terms of composition at the same time you have a repeated phrase ... it's just beautiful. The characters were eerily real and vibrant, and the humor... He's British. If you know what I'm talking about, further explanation would be unnecessary; if you don't, I really can't explain any better.
So then I found that he'd written other things: The Day I Swapped My Dad for Two Goldfish, The Wolves in the Walls, Stardust, and Neverwhere. Then came Coraline and American Gods. And now was Anansi Boys. It was everything I hoped it would be, and then some. If I should happen to be given that book, it would be a good thing. (If you're not my husband, assume I'm not hinting at you; I'm not quite that mercenary, unless you have an extra copy you're dying to give me, in which case I'll graciously and gratefully accept.)
My advice to you is to at least read one of his books. The Day I Swapped My Dad for Two Goldfish and The Wolves in the Walls are short "children's books." Coraline is short-ish. Stardust, Neverwhere, American Gods, and Anansi Boys are good-length novels. Good Omens is hard to describe, and after several valiant attempts (you'll have to take my word for them), I'll simply suggest that you get at least one copy.
At band, we decided on our motto: "Don't be sorry, just be better." This was shortly followed by the quip: "Let us play to the Lord." Someone commented, "We're an official group now; we have an inside joke." To explain: Dn. Tom said to start at measure 68 (70 is marked), and the trumpets didn't start at the right place, so he 'explained,' "two before 70," to which they replied, "OHHH." So then he started us again, "measure 68, or two-before-70 for the trumpets."
An exchange:
Dn. Tom: "It's a ton better than last week."
Vinny: "That's because we practiced so much."
Vinny's section-mate*: "Good one, Vinny."
Dn. Tom: "If you weren't a trombone player**, Vinny, I'd believe you."
*They all sit behind me. I'm in front of Dn. Tom, a flute to my left and a clarinet to my right, and a wall of brass behind me. Most of them I haven't met before, but I'm trying to learn names.
**Dn. Tom has at least one degree in music. He plays trombone.
In more official news, the HCCB is now an official student group of the SGA, and we get a non-voting speaking role on the SGA board which meets every other Tuesday. Not that anyone reading here particularly wants to know that, but I wrote it down on the same piece of paper as the others, and as Jim is finding out, I am particularly garrulous tonight.
Please pray for Peterbird as he sprints through his papers (three to do: two-and-a-half done this week, just one to finish and he's hoping to do that before we leave town on Friday morning).
I meant to work on the computer instead of blog, but I think I'll go stew myself in the cauldron until I'm all squishy and prune-fingered, then stretch out on the crisp-sheeted bed and refuse to exist until the early early morning. Gack.
posted by magda at 8:51 PM
2 Comments:
Oooh, the vacation sounds wonderful, the books look great, and prayers for Peterbird!
A Long Fatal Love Chase is one of my favorite books! My mom bought me a beautiful copy of it (hard back) with this beautiful dust cover! I might just have to go read it again:)
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