I was born in Orem, Utah but as the story goes, ten days later I was on a flight headed to Arizona where I would spend the first fourteen years of my life. I loved growing up in a house that my great-grandparents had built.
The elementary school I attended was built on land previously owned by my (great) grandpa Miller. I remember naively thinking, I will never move.
As fate would have it, my mum sat me down and said we were moving to Utah so she could go to law school. Strangely, my first concern was whether we were taking the pup pups with us. Matthew understandably wasn't quite as calm about the prospect, 'specially as he was about to start his senior year of high school.
We have now had our house in Utah now for fifteen years, though I have not lived there for that entire time. Two years in Provo. Just over a year in Florida - and in Florida I lived in three cities. And three years in Greensboro - with three residences there, too.
When playing with the Old Time Ensemble, we usually introduced ourselves to the audience. The introduction would consist of one's name, major area of study, and from whence you hailed. Generally, I would cop out and say, I'm from the West. (No, that is NOT the Ohio, thankyouverymuch!) Once I joked with a friend I should say, I'm a resident of NC for tuition purposes. But I chickened out. This simple exercise brought a large question to the fore: where the heck AM I from?
Today, as I've visited with relatives, it has made me ponder the question again. One uncle began talking about family and roots. Which made me think, well, not all roots are the same.
Take the cactus. After all, we are in Arizona right now. We learn that the cactus has very shallow roots, that are near the surface so as to take advantage of even the slightest bit of rainfall.
Then there is the awful no good horrible Oregon grape. Where, even if you dump half a thing of poison on its roots, it still comes back to taunt you. Or the bulbs, that geow every year, and can be divided and spread out. Or the tap roots of those naughty dandelions. Or, or, or.
Though I still struggle with an honest answer of, where is my hometown, I do take comfort that perhaps it's not where I from, but that I do put down roots were I am. Food for thought, that is.
Showing posts with label philosophizing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label philosophizing. Show all posts
Monday, February 13, 2012
Friday, December 10, 2010
ugh.
Nothing like a little light reading in the early morning hours.
I guess the essay does get a little easier to understand with each reading. The whole political proletariat-ness - that's still waaaay above my understanding, though.
As a complete aside: I have resorted to sin juice to help in the task of staying awake; I'm not sure if the caffeine or the need to use the little girl's room more often has been more effective.
Next article to dissect: "Schizophonic Performance: Guitar Hero, Rock Band and Virtual Virtuosity" by Kiri Miller. woo. (It actually is quite an interesting article, and much easier for the brain to digest than Benjamin.)
And all of these are being read in hopes of application to audiobooks. Twenty-three hours left, and counting.
I guess the essay does get a little easier to understand with each reading. The whole political proletariat-ness - that's still waaaay above my understanding, though.
As a complete aside: I have resorted to sin juice to help in the task of staying awake; I'm not sure if the caffeine or the need to use the little girl's room more often has been more effective.
Next article to dissect: "Schizophonic Performance: Guitar Hero, Rock Band and Virtual Virtuosity" by Kiri Miller. woo. (It actually is quite an interesting article, and much easier for the brain to digest than Benjamin.)
And all of these are being read in hopes of application to audiobooks. Twenty-three hours left, and counting.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
here we are together
I'm sitting here on my oh so comfy couch. Next to me is a not-so-little-anymore black cat. [Question: Is it wrong that I like to poke him while he's sleeping?]
I started out this evening to post about what I've been studying in my Music of Southeast Asia class. Well, more how it applies to me right now.
But, I got sidetracked. [Do you like the new colors?]
But never fear, I am back on target.
For my project in the class, I am trying to answer why dancers would have been a target for execution during the Khmer Rouge. I finally have settled on an acceptable (at least to me!) thesis statement, and am beginning to really work out the organization of my paper. Once this is done, I'll be able to lay out what information I have already learned, and find any more information I may need to fill in any possible holes.
In reading stories of survivors of the regime, it has been hard to stay objective. Sometimes I even catch myself thinking flippantly about events that transpired. I guess so that I can continue functioning emotionally?
For example, one young girl relates how she and her entire family miraculously survived the years of the Khmer Rouge, and made it to Thailand in hopes of making it to a refugee camp. The arrived at a camp, and were then bussed to a location.
After disembarking the bus, they were forced to climb down a mountainside, through a minefield, then arriving back in their own country they had just fled.
And my 'Self' says: wow. that was really kind of them to do that.
[I just got distracted again. Big surprise.]
This is not the only story I've. And I doubt I would be able to read all of the stories that exist from that time period.
Many of the stories cannot be told. The number vary slightly, depending on the sources, but approximately 14,000 peoples were brought in for questioning (that includes men women and children) and only 7 survived.
'Self': hmm... wow. seven - that's an odd number.
Oh ya, and there's the story of the little boy who was the only one in his family who survived.
He knew his father had been killed, because his father would not lie. The little boy survived because he lied. Thusly, the boy learned that one survives through deceit and dishonesty. And others who believed that all that was happening to them was their fault, their karma. They must have done something wrong at some point, right?
'Self': ...
And yet, there were stories of survival - even by people who were targeted. There are musicians who had ties to previous rulers, who survived, because they had an artistic ability.
'Self': what?
What we discussed in class was that the way the Khmer Rouge ruled was through fear. And this fear was created by changing the rules. Even those who were originally leaders in the organization were afraid for their lives. No one really knew the rules. Probably not even Pol Pot himself.
In a previous post, I've mentioned how I am grateful for the Plan of Happiness, and how there is justice for both those who do wrong, yet seem to not receive their dues and those who did not do wrong and were dealt a raw hand.
Now I would like to mention how grateful I am for a God who does not change the rules on us, thus allowing us to live our lives free from fear. I believe there is a reason fear is the enemy of faith.
I also love that it is my academic classes that are continually driving home these points to me. That makes me happy.
So much more could be said.
I started out this evening to post about what I've been studying in my Music of Southeast Asia class. Well, more how it applies to me right now.
But, I got sidetracked. [Do you like the new colors?]
But never fear, I am back on target.
For my project in the class, I am trying to answer why dancers would have been a target for execution during the Khmer Rouge. I finally have settled on an acceptable (at least to me!) thesis statement, and am beginning to really work out the organization of my paper. Once this is done, I'll be able to lay out what information I have already learned, and find any more information I may need to fill in any possible holes.
In reading stories of survivors of the regime, it has been hard to stay objective. Sometimes I even catch myself thinking flippantly about events that transpired. I guess so that I can continue functioning emotionally?
For example, one young girl relates how she and her entire family miraculously survived the years of the Khmer Rouge, and made it to Thailand in hopes of making it to a refugee camp. The arrived at a camp, and were then bussed to a location.
After disembarking the bus, they were forced to climb down a mountainside, through a minefield, then arriving back in their own country they had just fled.
And my 'Self' says: wow. that was really kind of them to do that.
[I just got distracted again. Big surprise.]
This is not the only story I've. And I doubt I would be able to read all of the stories that exist from that time period.
Many of the stories cannot be told. The number vary slightly, depending on the sources, but approximately 14,000 peoples were brought in for questioning (that includes men women and children) and only 7 survived.
'Self': hmm... wow. seven - that's an odd number.
Oh ya, and there's the story of the little boy who was the only one in his family who survived.
He knew his father had been killed, because his father would not lie. The little boy survived because he lied. Thusly, the boy learned that one survives through deceit and dishonesty. And others who believed that all that was happening to them was their fault, their karma. They must have done something wrong at some point, right?
'Self': ...
And yet, there were stories of survival - even by people who were targeted. There are musicians who had ties to previous rulers, who survived, because they had an artistic ability.
'Self': what?
What we discussed in class was that the way the Khmer Rouge ruled was through fear. And this fear was created by changing the rules. Even those who were originally leaders in the organization were afraid for their lives. No one really knew the rules. Probably not even Pol Pot himself.
In a previous post, I've mentioned how I am grateful for the Plan of Happiness, and how there is justice for both those who do wrong, yet seem to not receive their dues and those who did not do wrong and were dealt a raw hand.
Now I would like to mention how grateful I am for a God who does not change the rules on us, thus allowing us to live our lives free from fear. I believe there is a reason fear is the enemy of faith.
I also love that it is my academic classes that are continually driving home these points to me. That makes me happy.
So much more could be said.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
da dum-da-dum-da-da-da-da-da-da-daaaaa
[imagine the death knell, tolling....]
School is starting.
Really, I do like school.
The other day, the Really Nice Clothing store received a shipment of 'Icelandic' brand vests. I was reminded of sixth grade, when I the over-achiever wrote a 60 (or some other obscene number) page report on Iceland. Complete with a pretty spiffy map overlay that showed how Iceland was the land of fire and ice.*
Just today, while thinking on what I'd like to write my 'document' on, I remembered the survey I did of all the oboe method books in the library. I remember sitting in the MT section for hours on end during my first degree, comparing the different etude books, etc. Perhaps the weirdest of that experience was that it was completely enjoyable.**
There was the Harry Potter paper. Or how arundo donaxchanged the world, or the short document about the appropriateness of Orff's lyrics. Or my first exposure to ethnomusicology (though I didn't know it at the time) when I wrote about the Igbo people's music when we were to write about something from Chinua Achebe's book.
Each of these papers received various degrees of acceptable grades. Never an A, only A-'s or below. Even when they weren't As, I still felt I had learned something, and that if I would have spent a little more time refining (i.e. edited a bit more), I would have done better academically. I also learned that grades were not a motivating factor for me. The motivation must come from within.
That is my goal for this new academic year - to find something for which I can motivate myself to investigate, something that I find meaningful. Perhaps this is selfish of me. Yet, I have also found that 'when I'm helping, I'm happ[ier].'
Last semester a professor asked me what my passions were. I still don't know how to articulate them.
For example, it's not the oboe, but what can be done with the oboe.
It's not the reed, but how trying different things with the reed can make it feel more comfortable, sound that much better and convey emotions even more strongly.
So where am I going with these ramblings?
Last year I stepped out on a limb; clambered a bit too far out on a branch when I traversed 'cross the country solita. I enjoyed school and the connections I made there. Conversely, I also felt at times that I was not always taken seriously.
More importantly, I'm tired of me putting forth a mediocre effort on my part because of the thin wobbly branch I was on.
[Side note: kitty's tail is fwopping angrily. Maybe if she'd stop biting me I'd stop plucking her off my lap. She has this strange desire to attack knees that are at rest.]
Instead of retreating, which I have been sorely tempted to do, I choose instead to reinforce this wobbly metaphorical branch where I'm perched.
As of now, I'm not quite sure how this is going to happen, but I think I have taken steps in the right direction.
***
My Academic Credo
I will not allow myself to be in school situations where I felt demeaned, because, though I am good at complaining, I'd rather spend time a bit more constructively.
I will find out that for which I am passionate, that which I enjoy, and work those into my educational studies.
Make my weaknesses, strengths. Okay, so I have a quiet voice. How can I use this to my advantage? Okay, I'm a bit spacey? Hmm...maybe this one doesn't have an advantage. :)
***
I think that is a good place to start, though I would like to solicit ideas from you, my bloggies friends. What are some possible ideas for my credo? What have you done that helps you in the world of academia? So that you enjoy what you are learning, and how you find research topics that you love.
[Side note: kitty is now lounging across the desk, head perched on my forearm.]
Disclaimer: I know not all life is meant to be fun, but I do believe it can be enjoyable. And, I'd say that 90% of my school experience last year really was quiet good; but that last 10% did a good job of souring the rest. Unfortunately.
* The reeaaally cool map was made possible with help from my dad.
** The formatting of the method book survey was only possible with my mum's help.
School is starting.
Really, I do like school.
The other day, the Really Nice Clothing store received a shipment of 'Icelandic' brand vests. I was reminded of sixth grade, when I the over-achiever wrote a 60 (or some other obscene number) page report on Iceland. Complete with a pretty spiffy map overlay that showed how Iceland was the land of fire and ice.*
Just today, while thinking on what I'd like to write my 'document' on, I remembered the survey I did of all the oboe method books in the library. I remember sitting in the MT section for hours on end during my first degree, comparing the different etude books, etc. Perhaps the weirdest of that experience was that it was completely enjoyable.**
There was the Harry Potter paper. Or how arundo donaxchanged the world, or the short document about the appropriateness of Orff's lyrics. Or my first exposure to ethnomusicology (though I didn't know it at the time) when I wrote about the Igbo people's music when we were to write about something from Chinua Achebe's book.
Each of these papers received various degrees of acceptable grades. Never an A, only A-'s or below. Even when they weren't As, I still felt I had learned something, and that if I would have spent a little more time refining (i.e. edited a bit more), I would have done better academically. I also learned that grades were not a motivating factor for me. The motivation must come from within.
That is my goal for this new academic year - to find something for which I can motivate myself to investigate, something that I find meaningful. Perhaps this is selfish of me. Yet, I have also found that 'when I'm helping, I'm happ[ier].'
Last semester a professor asked me what my passions were. I still don't know how to articulate them.
For example, it's not the oboe, but what can be done with the oboe.
It's not the reed, but how trying different things with the reed can make it feel more comfortable, sound that much better and convey emotions even more strongly.
So where am I going with these ramblings?
Last year I stepped out on a limb; clambered a bit too far out on a branch when I traversed 'cross the country solita. I enjoyed school and the connections I made there. Conversely, I also felt at times that I was not always taken seriously.
More importantly, I'm tired of me putting forth a mediocre effort on my part because of the thin wobbly branch I was on.
[Side note: kitty's tail is fwopping angrily. Maybe if she'd stop biting me I'd stop plucking her off my lap. She has this strange desire to attack knees that are at rest.]
Instead of retreating, which I have been sorely tempted to do, I choose instead to reinforce this wobbly metaphorical branch where I'm perched.
As of now, I'm not quite sure how this is going to happen, but I think I have taken steps in the right direction.
***
My Academic Credo
I will not allow myself to be in school situations where I felt demeaned, because, though I am good at complaining, I'd rather spend time a bit more constructively.
I will find out that for which I am passionate, that which I enjoy, and work those into my educational studies.
Make my weaknesses, strengths. Okay, so I have a quiet voice. How can I use this to my advantage? Okay, I'm a bit spacey? Hmm...maybe this one doesn't have an advantage. :)
***
I think that is a good place to start, though I would like to solicit ideas from you, my bloggies friends. What are some possible ideas for my credo? What have you done that helps you in the world of academia? So that you enjoy what you are learning, and how you find research topics that you love.
[Side note: kitty is now lounging across the desk, head perched on my forearm.]
Disclaimer: I know not all life is meant to be fun, but I do believe it can be enjoyable. And, I'd say that 90% of my school experience last year really was quiet good; but that last 10% did a good job of souring the rest. Unfortunately.
* The reeaaally cool map was made possible with help from my dad.
** The formatting of the method book survey was only possible with my mum's help.
Monday, July 13, 2009
somber
I ditched out on Family Home Evening group tonight to finish a book. Its been one of those days: waking up with a headache, etc. that just won't go away!*
After I finished the book, I came out to check email and the usual sifting through various news sites.
First, something from here in Greensboro.
Read this one first.
Now this.
Another, about the women left behind illegal immigration. The article is not as informative as I would have liked, but I know many friends have personal connections to the topic.
Lastly, as I was surfing the web - I can't even remember how I stumbled on the video, but it features a professor from where I used to work.
I am grateful to these people for moving on even in life, even while facing death head on.
Those of you who bear through my posts know that I am not the most articulate when writing, but I shall try anyway. I was reminded of thoughts I had yesterday evening.
Last night, while admiring my newly organized bookcase (there are three more to go, I have to enjoy something!) I like to look over the books I've read and enjoyed. One is Lord of the Rings - not too surprising, I know. I remembered a favorite passage of mine:** Well, I can't find it in the book, so I had to resort to the internet. It's been too long since I've read them to pick out quotes I guess.
Or if you prefer,
Okay, I'm focusing again.
I read the whole books after being 'forced' to read Fellowship for my freshman college English class. Poor Meeechele - I was horribly obsessed!
The above quote really resonated with me.
Later, while reading the Book of Mormon during required class reading time, I remember reading this passage:
Behold, now it came to pass in the sixty and ninth year of the reign of the judges over the people of the Nephites, that Nephi, the son of Helaman, returned to the land of Zarahemla from the land northward.
For he had been forth among the people who were in the land northward, and did preach the word of God unto them, and did prophesy many things unto them;
And they did reject all his words....
Now this great iniquity had come upon the Nephites, in the space of anot many years; and when Nephi saw it, his heart was swollen with sorrow within his breast; and he did exclaim in the agony of his soul:
Oh, that I could have had my days in the days when my father Nephi first came out of the land of Jerusalem, that I could have ajoyed with him in the promised land; then were his people easy to be entreated, bfirm to keep the commandments of God, and slow to be led to do iniquity; and they were quick to hearken unto the words of the Lord—
Yea, if my days could have been in those days, then would my soul have had joy in the righteousness of my brethren.
But behold, I am consigned that these are my days, and that my soul shall be filled with asorrow because of this the wickedness of my brethren. (Helaman 7:1-3, 6-9) [The rest of the story is pretty amazing!]
I was excited, because it confirmed to me that I had recognized truth, and both gave examples of how to continue on, even when circumstances are less than desirable (though I think Nephi gave perhaps a bit better example.)
Earlier in the post, I gave two modern day examples of people going forward, even when circumstances are less than ideal. I know personally of families who do their best every day in spite of tragic circumstances.
So when job hunting fails, trying to train cats hurts (sigh), seeing rats is scary (eek!) and many more things that aren't publicly shared, those burdens of the heart great or small, we can remember that all that we can ever do is do our best; usually that best turns out to be pretty extra-ordinary. (I hope.)
*And no, that headache is not black and furry. :) Only one pounce today while making lunch.
** I'm beginning to think it's not just me being inarticulate, but have a hard time staying on task. While looking for the quote itself, I began finding bunches of neat things about the movie, posted by people who have way too much time on their hands. Such as this.
After I finished the book, I came out to check email and the usual sifting through various news sites.
First, something from here in Greensboro.
Read this one first.
Now this.
Another, about the women left behind illegal immigration. The article is not as informative as I would have liked, but I know many friends have personal connections to the topic.
Lastly, as I was surfing the web - I can't even remember how I stumbled on the video, but it features a professor from where I used to work.
Visit msnbc.com for Breaking News, World News, and News about the Economy
I am grateful to these people for moving on even in life, even while facing death head on.
Those of you who bear through my posts know that I am not the most articulate when writing, but I shall try anyway. I was reminded of thoughts I had yesterday evening.
Last night, while admiring my newly organized bookcase (there are three more to go, I have to enjoy something!) I like to look over the books I've read and enjoyed. One is Lord of the Rings - not too surprising, I know. I remembered a favorite passage of mine:** Well, I can't find it in the book, so I had to resort to the internet. It's been too long since I've read them to pick out quotes I guess.
Always after a defeat and a respite, the Shadow takes another shape and grows again. (Gandalf)
I wish it need not have happened in my time (Frodo)
So do I… and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us. (Gandalf)
Or if you prefer,
Okay, I'm focusing again.
I read the whole books after being 'forced' to read Fellowship for my freshman college English class. Poor Meeechele - I was horribly obsessed!
The above quote really resonated with me.
Later, while reading the Book of Mormon during required class reading time, I remember reading this passage:
Behold, now it came to pass in the sixty and ninth year of the reign of the judges over the people of the Nephites, that Nephi, the son of Helaman, returned to the land of Zarahemla from the land northward.
For he had been forth among the people who were in the land northward, and did preach the word of God unto them, and did prophesy many things unto them;
And they did reject all his words....
Now this great iniquity had come upon the Nephites, in the space of anot many years; and when Nephi saw it, his heart was swollen with sorrow within his breast; and he did exclaim in the agony of his soul:
Oh, that I could have had my days in the days when my father Nephi first came out of the land of Jerusalem, that I could have ajoyed with him in the promised land; then were his people easy to be entreated, bfirm to keep the commandments of God, and slow to be led to do iniquity; and they were quick to hearken unto the words of the Lord—
Yea, if my days could have been in those days, then would my soul have had joy in the righteousness of my brethren.
But behold, I am consigned that these are my days, and that my soul shall be filled with asorrow because of this the wickedness of my brethren. (Helaman 7:1-3, 6-9) [The rest of the story is pretty amazing!]
I was excited, because it confirmed to me that I had recognized truth, and both gave examples of how to continue on, even when circumstances are less than desirable (though I think Nephi gave perhaps a bit better example.)
Earlier in the post, I gave two modern day examples of people going forward, even when circumstances are less than ideal. I know personally of families who do their best every day in spite of tragic circumstances.
So when job hunting fails, trying to train cats hurts (sigh), seeing rats is scary (eek!) and many more things that aren't publicly shared, those burdens of the heart great or small, we can remember that all that we can ever do is do our best; usually that best turns out to be pretty extra-ordinary. (I hope.)
*And no, that headache is not black and furry. :) Only one pounce today while making lunch.
** I'm beginning to think it's not just me being inarticulate, but have a hard time staying on task. While looking for the quote itself, I began finding bunches of neat things about the movie, posted by people who have way too much time on their hands. Such as this.
Friday, November 14, 2008
yesterday
Yesterday was not a good day. Nope. Not at all.
Nothing bad happened to me, but all kinds of bad happened to many people I care about. And that makes me sad.
Today.
Even before yesterday I'd been thinking I need to be more positive.
So, I start over.
Today I went to the temple.
It was a little temple; I made an appointment and everything.
Life truly is a beautiful thing. There IS hate in this world, and behind that hate, I've found that there often is a deep deep sorrow.
We all know sorrow; we've all caused sorrow.
We are humans, yet as humans we have such infinite potentiality!
Nothing bad happened to me, but all kinds of bad happened to many people I care about. And that makes me sad.
Today.
Even before yesterday I'd been thinking I need to be more positive.
So, I start over.
Today I went to the temple.
It was a little temple; I made an appointment and everything.
Life truly is a beautiful thing. There IS hate in this world, and behind that hate, I've found that there often is a deep deep sorrow.
We all know sorrow; we've all caused sorrow.
We are humans, yet as humans we have such infinite potentiality!
Thursday, September 04, 2008
to recommend or no
Before I begin, I never even shared the part of the book that I found profound.
It says, "The mark of an immature man is that he wants to die nobly for a cause, while the mark of a mature man is that he wants to live humbly for a cause." (188)
I was asked whether I would recommend Catcher in the Rye, or not. I'm trying to decide whether I can recommend this book with a clear conscience or not.
There IS a lot lot lot of swearing. And a whole lot of sexual innuendos/desires etc. You are at least saved any depiction of the act.
I'm going to tell a story instead of recommending it or not....
Once upon a time I was to read Grapes of Wrath. I couldn't get past the swearing. I didn't/couldn't read it.
Not too long ago I was able to read Catcher in the Rye, Breaking Dawn and another book I still have to talk about, that have varying levels of swearing/crude behavior and/or 'intimate relations.'
I don't know if my levels of spirituality were different at the different times, if I've become desensitized to things that I shouldn't be desensitized to, I'm not sure.
I do know that in many passages I did not spend much time in, and other times I reread sections to try and understand everything that is going on.
In support of reading good books, no matter what, is yea, seek ye out of the best books words of wisdom
So, the question is can we define a book as the best? How are we to judge if something is best for us, and that we will be able to dig through the muck, and find words of wisdom?
I still think that these individual judgements are just that - individual.
Personally, at the time that I read Catcher in the Rye, I was able to find words of wisdom within (we're assuming that I haven't become too desensitized), and not dwell on the dirtier elements. I know this won't always be the case at a different times in my life. But, at the same time, I could learn similar lessons, but in a different manner from another book.
What do you all think? I know many of you have experience from class where you probably had to read borderline books. What did you do, and how did you deal with things that very well could have been, or possibly were offensive? All advice is wanted!
For those who want more than philosophizing!
Nitty gritty details specifically about Catcher: If I were to rate the book, I'd definitely give it a PG13 rating for inordinate amounts of swearing, and sexuality by a 16 year old boy. Oh, and underage drinking and smoking. Possible instance of attempted pedophilia. The tone, too, is fairly depressing.
You can see why this is a book on the banned books list quite often, but it is also on lists for being taught quite often, too!
If you want more details, such as which words are used more often, etc. etc., let me know, and I can give you an even more specific idea of the book.
It says, "The mark of an immature man is that he wants to die nobly for a cause, while the mark of a mature man is that he wants to live humbly for a cause." (188)
I was asked whether I would recommend Catcher in the Rye, or not. I'm trying to decide whether I can recommend this book with a clear conscience or not.
There IS a lot lot lot of swearing. And a whole lot of sexual innuendos/desires etc. You are at least saved any depiction of the act.
I'm going to tell a story instead of recommending it or not....
Once upon a time I was to read Grapes of Wrath. I couldn't get past the swearing. I didn't/couldn't read it.
Not too long ago I was able to read Catcher in the Rye, Breaking Dawn and another book I still have to talk about, that have varying levels of swearing/crude behavior and/or 'intimate relations.'
I don't know if my levels of spirituality were different at the different times, if I've become desensitized to things that I shouldn't be desensitized to, I'm not sure.
I do know that in many passages I did not spend much time in, and other times I reread sections to try and understand everything that is going on.
In support of reading good books, no matter what, is yea, seek ye out of the best books words of wisdom
So, the question is can we define a book as the best? How are we to judge if something is best for us, and that we will be able to dig through the muck, and find words of wisdom?
Wherefore, take heed, my beloved brethren, that ye do not judge that which is aevil to be of God, or that which is good and of God to be of the devil.
For behold, my brethren, it is given unto you to judge, that ye may know good from evil; and the way to judge is as plain, that ye may know with a perfect knowledge, as the daylight is from the dark night.
For behold, the Spirit of Christ is given to every man, that he may know good from evil; wherefore, I show unto you the way to judge; for every thing which inviteth to do good, and to persuade to believe in Christ, is sent forth by the power and gift of Christ; wherefore ye may know with a perfect knowledge it is of God.
But whatsoever thing persuadeth men to do evil, and believe not in Christ, and deny him, and serve not God, then ye may know with a perfect knowledge it is of the devil; for after this manner doth the devil work, for he persuadeth no man to do good, no, not one; neither do his angels; neither do they who subject themselves unto him. Moroni 7:14-17
I still think that these individual judgements are just that - individual.
Personally, at the time that I read Catcher in the Rye, I was able to find words of wisdom within (we're assuming that I haven't become too desensitized), and not dwell on the dirtier elements. I know this won't always be the case at a different times in my life. But, at the same time, I could learn similar lessons, but in a different manner from another book.
What do you all think? I know many of you have experience from class where you probably had to read borderline books. What did you do, and how did you deal with things that very well could have been, or possibly were offensive? All advice is wanted!
For those who want more than philosophizing!
Nitty gritty details specifically about Catcher: If I were to rate the book, I'd definitely give it a PG13 rating for inordinate amounts of swearing, and sexuality by a 16 year old boy. Oh, and underage drinking and smoking. Possible instance of attempted pedophilia. The tone, too, is fairly depressing.
You can see why this is a book on the banned books list quite often, but it is also on lists for being taught quite often, too!
If you want more details, such as which words are used more often, etc. etc., let me know, and I can give you an even more specific idea of the book.
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
interesting thoughts
How to Be a Good Reader, part 1: the reader's responsibility, and part 2: the author's responsibility.
Monday, August 04, 2008
a clarification
Oh no! In response to thoughts: I didn't mean to come across as saying that amateurs were a hindrance, well, I guess I did, but that was before I had the change of heart, and decided to learn from them.
What I forgot to clarify, is that those who have chosen this route professionally need to take the enthusiasm of those who have chosen to excel in other fields, but still choose to devote much of their time and energies to a secondary (or even a third) area.
That was clear as mud.
For example, my chosen field is that of music. My secondary area would be floral design. The majority of my time and talents is devoted to progressing in the field of music. It is quite satisfying, creatively, but sometimes because it is the way I hope to support myself, there are times it looses a bit of the magical quality that others find in music.
To feed the creative desire, I am an amateur florist. I've never really made money with it, only the expenses were covered. But I didn't mind. I did it completely for fun. I know I'm not trained to do it, so I would feel a bit awkward if I ever received more than expenses. Someday that may change, after more training, but for now it is the way that I create out of pure love and enjoyment.
What I wanted to get across, and didn't (that's the problem with writing while tired) is that a worthy goal should be to take that enthusiasm of creating out of pure love and enjoyment, found easiest in the amateur stage, and apply that love to the practice and knowledge found at the professional level.
What I forgot to clarify, is that those who have chosen this route professionally need to take the enthusiasm of those who have chosen to excel in other fields, but still choose to devote much of their time and energies to a secondary (or even a third) area.
That was clear as mud.
For example, my chosen field is that of music. My secondary area would be floral design. The majority of my time and talents is devoted to progressing in the field of music. It is quite satisfying, creatively, but sometimes because it is the way I hope to support myself, there are times it looses a bit of the magical quality that others find in music.
To feed the creative desire, I am an amateur florist. I've never really made money with it, only the expenses were covered. But I didn't mind. I did it completely for fun. I know I'm not trained to do it, so I would feel a bit awkward if I ever received more than expenses. Someday that may change, after more training, but for now it is the way that I create out of pure love and enjoyment.
What I wanted to get across, and didn't (that's the problem with writing while tired) is that a worthy goal should be to take that enthusiasm of creating out of pure love and enjoyment, found easiest in the amateur stage, and apply that love to the practice and knowledge found at the professional level.
Sunday, August 03, 2008
thoughts
So, in commenting on a friends post, I realized that the entry was becoming much too long and complicated. So, I decided to post the thoughts here instead.
Note: though I'm commenting specifically about music, I think that the defining of amateur and professional applies to all fields.
So, I just had my (possibly) last broadcast with the Orchestra at Temple Square. And, though not to the same degree, similar. The organization is weird mix of professional and amateur, very hard to explain.
For those who don't read the post, from what I understand, the basic difference between amateurs and professionals is that amateurs
The OTS is comprised of musicians from all different types: free-lancer, college/university Professor, Secondary Ed teachers, retired folks, etc. This combination of grouping, all volunteer, creates an interesting dynamic. I was almost bitter for the first bit of my stint - why weren't people taking these more seriously, and well, how could we take it more seriously! This is not serious.
Then, my heart softened. I told myself I was being immature and conceited, and lo and behold, I began to learn things. (I cannot go back to amateur status [on the oboe] at this point in my life for better or for worse. I do have some hope to re-obtain that status or at least the perks, eventually, because many of the members of the orchestra are retired professionals.)
I decided that I would observe people around me. I would learn from them, and their experience even if their level of everyone's playing wasn't what I was used to. Though the music may not be technically challenging regarding fingers, there is a certain emotional challenge. And the stress of being on very public display, and how that was handled. The list could go on and on. Suffice it to say, I learned lessons that I could apply to my chosen path.
After that, things became much more enjoyable, less tedious. And, miracle of miracles, I became less critical.
It is a hard balance to achieve, that level of professionalism that is demanded of musicians(I blame recordings!) yet still to enjoy yourself because that is the way to play musically - by giving something of yourself. And if that self is bored, and tired of playing this piece, it actually doesn't come across to the audience. These bored individuals have such a true ability, that it is amazing, and lovely, and forgettable. As a good friend of mine teaches, if Finale can do it, we should be doing something more.
As I similarly intoned to my Sight-Singing students, We are musicians, not machines. There are some pretty powerful machines out there that serve a marvelous purpose. They have not, though, made the human element completely obsolete. So, let us glory in our human-ness. Though we may not be an amateur, we can learn from them, and not be afraid to show a bit of ourselves, and share what drew us to music in the first place.
Note: though I'm commenting specifically about music, I think that the defining of amateur and professional applies to all fields.
So, I just had my (possibly) last broadcast with the Orchestra at Temple Square. And, though not to the same degree, similar. The organization is weird mix of professional and amateur, very hard to explain.
For those who don't read the post, from what I understand, the basic difference between amateurs and professionals is that amateurs
create music for the pure love and enjoyment of the experience. [A] musician professionally trained in the Euro-classical tradition, where music is made to be performed and in cases to earn money, status, and/or recognition.
The OTS is comprised of musicians from all different types: free-lancer, college/university Professor, Secondary Ed teachers, retired folks, etc. This combination of grouping, all volunteer, creates an interesting dynamic. I was almost bitter for the first bit of my stint - why weren't people taking these more seriously, and well, how could we take it more seriously! This is not serious.
Then, my heart softened. I told myself I was being immature and conceited, and lo and behold, I began to learn things. (I cannot go back to amateur status [on the oboe] at this point in my life for better or for worse. I do have some hope to re-obtain that status or at least the perks, eventually, because many of the members of the orchestra are retired professionals.)
I decided that I would observe people around me. I would learn from them, and their experience even if their level of everyone's playing wasn't what I was used to. Though the music may not be technically challenging regarding fingers, there is a certain emotional challenge. And the stress of being on very public display, and how that was handled. The list could go on and on. Suffice it to say, I learned lessons that I could apply to my chosen path.
After that, things became much more enjoyable, less tedious. And, miracle of miracles, I became less critical.
It is a hard balance to achieve, that level of professionalism that is demanded of musicians(I blame recordings!) yet still to enjoy yourself because that is the way to play musically - by giving something of yourself. And if that self is bored, and tired of playing this piece, it actually doesn't come across to the audience. These bored individuals have such a true ability, that it is amazing, and lovely, and forgettable. As a good friend of mine teaches, if Finale can do it, we should be doing something more.
As I similarly intoned to my Sight-Singing students, We are musicians, not machines. There are some pretty powerful machines out there that serve a marvelous purpose. They have not, though, made the human element completely obsolete. So, let us glory in our human-ness. Though we may not be an amateur, we can learn from them, and not be afraid to show a bit of ourselves, and share what drew us to music in the first place.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
ode on a septic tank
Sometimes, our problems are only seen by those nearest and dearest.
Sometimes they are laid bare for all to see.
Always they exist, most times hard to find, buried deep as deep can be.
Yet joined together, no longer alone: these troubles will still arise.
There is a pattern, alone or not these issues will develop.
Let us be kind to, Yes! ourselves - and share life's ups and downs
This life is so worth living!
With those whose Hand is proffered.
Sometimes they are laid bare for all to see.
Always they exist, most times hard to find, buried deep as deep can be.
Yet joined together, no longer alone: these troubles will still arise.
There is a pattern, alone or not these issues will develop.
Let us be kind to, Yes! ourselves - and share life's ups and downs
This life is so worth living!
With those whose Hand is proffered.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
an answer
When I tell people that I study music, I get various reactions. Most seem as if they want to pat me on the head, and say, "Oh honey, that's so sweet!" I usually just smile, and, well, smile. And try not to bare my teeth.
But, occasionally there are people who really do get it.
I'd like to post part of an interview by one of my favorite authors of her interview with another author:
Amen!
If it isn't writing, perhaps it is music. Or reading. Grammar. (I'm sure there are some out there!)
For all of us to survive, we must find something in this world that makes us "feel more alive, more connected to the world." For truly, this life is too short to be spent miserably, trudging along. There is a fine balance to act out, but, "...if their works were good in this life, and the desires of their heart were good, that they should also, at the last day, be restored unto that which is good. And if their works are evil they shall be restored unto them for evil." (Alma 41:3-4) We don't magically know what will create these feelings of beauty in our lives when we die. Today is the day.
This idealistic mood of mine may be caused by falling asleep to Jeremy Irons intone The Alchemist or from the biography of C.S. Lewis that I'm reading (more on this later) but I very strongly believe that we truly are happiest when we are 'searching for our personal treasure,' or 'Joy' or Sehnsucht When we are realizing our divine potential. For we are Pilgrims, nay, Strangers here on this Earth. We are here for but a short time, to learn and to grow, and to be happy - the true and lasting happiness.
Last random thought. Sorry, still a bit philosophical. Just blame it on the books I've been reading lately.
Not too long ago I was reading and realized in the earlier quoted chapter, the "Wickedness never was happiness" has another side to it. You can only be one, or the other. If we are unhappy, there is something that is off: it does not have to be anything major. Ofttimes it is not. Most often, it is because we are being cruel to ourselves, or selling ourselves short. And please don't misinterpret or use the cheap definition of happiness. To find out what I mean, look here and you will find some interesting similarities in the causes of happiness.
I always knew the answers, or what the teacher wanted to hear, in my younger years. In Sunday School, I soon grew tired of knowing the correct answer and began answering every question with the answer of Happy. It was a bit of a joke at the time, but now, I don't think I was too far off.
But, occasionally there are people who really do get it.
I'd like to post part of an interview by one of my favorite authors of her interview with another author:
Why do you write?
Sometimes I wonder that myself--especially when the writing part isn't going well. Like today, for instance! But generally speaking I write because writing makes me feel more alive, more connected to the world. When I'm writing I pay more attention to what's happening around me--and when that happens I am struck over and over again I am by the awful beauty of life.
Amen!
If it isn't writing, perhaps it is music. Or reading. Grammar. (I'm sure there are some out there!)
For all of us to survive, we must find something in this world that makes us "feel more alive, more connected to the world." For truly, this life is too short to be spent miserably, trudging along. There is a fine balance to act out, but, "...if their works were good in this life, and the desires of their heart were good, that they should also, at the last day, be restored unto that which is good. And if their works are evil they shall be restored unto them for evil." (Alma 41:3-4) We don't magically know what will create these feelings of beauty in our lives when we die. Today is the day.
This idealistic mood of mine may be caused by falling asleep to Jeremy Irons intone The Alchemist or from the biography of C.S. Lewis that I'm reading (more on this later) but I very strongly believe that we truly are happiest when we are 'searching for our personal treasure,' or 'Joy' or Sehnsucht When we are realizing our divine potential. For we are Pilgrims, nay, Strangers here on this Earth. We are here for but a short time, to learn and to grow, and to be happy - the true and lasting happiness.
Last random thought. Sorry, still a bit philosophical. Just blame it on the books I've been reading lately.
Not too long ago I was reading and realized in the earlier quoted chapter, the "Wickedness never was happiness" has another side to it. You can only be one, or the other. If we are unhappy, there is something that is off: it does not have to be anything major. Ofttimes it is not. Most often, it is because we are being cruel to ourselves, or selling ourselves short. And please don't misinterpret or use the cheap definition of happiness. To find out what I mean, look here and you will find some interesting similarities in the causes of happiness.
I always knew the answers, or what the teacher wanted to hear, in my younger years. In Sunday School, I soon grew tired of knowing the correct answer and began answering every question with the answer of Happy. It was a bit of a joke at the time, but now, I don't think I was too far off.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
beauty
I don't know why, but the posting options are limited whenever I try to post from home. i.e. there isn't a place to make links look nicely. I'll edit that when I get to work I guess.
Well, I hope for now I'm done with wee bit serious posts. I was just quite frustrated with Hollywood lately, and there may be a similar rant - though I know I didn't fully explain myself in the last, it was taking too much time - when "The Seeker: Dark is Rising" is released. Oh well. Just say I didn't warn you.
But today I only wanted to share this wonderful little clip my mum shared with me.
I dare you to not let it make your day a wee bit happier.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ed9F4G5d8Qw
Oh, what a wonderdful world.
Last night I was walking across BYU's campus, all the way from the Maeser building.
It was a beautiful moment. The air was that last, not too warm temp that happens just before fall, the sky was beautiful... the world was at peace. Perhaps my reading of the Anne of Green Gables series is affecting me, but if it is, I say it's quite all right.
Well, I hope for now I'm done with wee bit serious posts. I was just quite frustrated with Hollywood lately, and there may be a similar rant - though I know I didn't fully explain myself in the last, it was taking too much time - when "The Seeker: Dark is Rising" is released. Oh well. Just say I didn't warn you.
But today I only wanted to share this wonderful little clip my mum shared with me.
I dare you to not let it make your day a wee bit happier.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ed9F4G5d8Qw
Oh, what a wonderdful world.
Last night I was walking across BYU's campus, all the way from the Maeser building.
It was a beautiful moment. The air was that last, not too warm temp that happens just before fall, the sky was beautiful... the world was at peace. Perhaps my reading of the Anne of Green Gables series is affecting me, but if it is, I say it's quite all right.
Monday, August 20, 2007
ode to hollywood
Why in the world does Hollywood feel the need to make things bigger, with the idea that that makes then better? Last week I saw the movie Stardust. I enjoyed the book (with some reservations) but decided that I wanted to see the movie to see how the adaptation of the book went along. There were, of course, various plot modifications throughout the beginning. They weren't quite as drastic as Arwen taking the place of Glorfindel in calling upon the River, or the Elves deciding to come one last time to help the world of men.... And some actually made it less of a moral dilemma when wondering whether to recommend the movie to friends. Others were actually fairly enjoyable.
But, where the falling action of the plot ended, and the denoument should have begun, that is where we have the problems.
Spoiler Alert! In the book, a number of prophesies/rules are given. One regarding the slavery of Una, the princess of Stormhold, and also about the heart of the Star. Hmm... this could be difficult to explain the ending without explaining the beginning. (If you know the plot, you may skip to nearer the end.) I explained the plot to my coworkers the day after I read the book - it made sense, sort of. Well, here is my attempt:
There are four stories that are intwertwined throughout the graphic novel. Firstly, of the Village of Wall, the Princes of Stormhold, the three witch sisters, and a witch and her slave girl.
To begin, Wall. In the Village, there is a wall. And there is a hole in the wall that no one is allowed to cross. Except for every nine years when a fair comes to the meadow just outside the hole in the wall. Enter Dunstan Thorn. A proper English young man. He boards two people from the other side of Wall, a tall gentleman who promises that his and his son's (him not having a son yet) greatest desire will be fulfilled, and a strange furry little fellow. The next day he goes to the fair, long story short, meets the slave girl at a stall, gets a glass flower, and because of a romantic liason, ends up with a baby in a basket. Oh, and his name is Trist-R-an. Not Tristan. Anyhoo, between the liason and the arrival of the baby, Dunstan is married off to a local girl he had been courting, and things seem to be fine.
Tristran, true to form has fallen in love with Victoria, the most beautiful girl in the village. One night, while trying to court he promises her many things, and then, after seeing a shooting star, promises to bring it back to her in exchange for her doing what he asks. She agrees, believing that he would never actually act upon this foolishness.
Well, Tristran does. And his father, when (my memory of this is a bit fuzzy) tells the truth of his origins, takes him to the hole in the wall, and the sentries allow him to pass. As a parting gift, the father gives him the glass flower.
Tristran first meets the furry fellow. He takes care of Tristran, giving him a Babylon candle which is a method of traveling. The furry fellow has a strange tatoo making him a member of some underground society. This comes into play later, though I didn't catch this until the later. Oh well.
Tristran uses the candle to get to the crater with the candle, and discovers Yvaine who had been knocked out of the sky by a necklace. Her leg broke during the fall, and she somehow has this stupid ruby necklace. Tristran had some of that magic silver chain, and captured her, and they start the journey back.
Necklace: The kingdom of Stormhold's manner of succession is different than most - it is the last surviving male becomes the next King. The current king is on his deathbed, and calls his remaining four sons to him. They must kill each other off, but, he adds a final twist - the ruby necklace that declares to the world that they are the king...well, he takes it off and chucks it. Frankly, he is disgusted that his sons haven't managed to kill off each other by now. One of the sons is killed during the death bed scene, leaving only Primus, Tertius and Septimus. There were originally seven sons, and one daughter, who disappeared many years ago. So, after their father's death, they start off together in their hunt, never eating nor drinking anything they haven't prepared themselves.
Witches: There are three witch sisters who are very old, and don't like the way being old makes them look. If only they had the heart of a star - that would make them young again. Oh, wait, a star just fell from the sky. The heart was best if it was a happy heart, but if the heart belonged to another, it did them no good. So, the head witch begins the hunt, turning a girl into a goat to pull her along.
Ditchwater Sal and slave girl: the girl was to be a slave until the moon loses one of her daughters in a week when two Mondays are joined, or something impossible like that.
Okay, Yvaine (the star) and Tristran start walking back. They encounter a unicorn and lion fighting, and there are a bunch of nursery rhymes that he remembers...this one ends with the lion being declared king of the forest, and taking the crown after winning the fight. Yvaine is crying because the unicorn is being beaten and tell Tristran to stop the fight. So, he takes the crown to the lion, and he leaves. Hooray. Random sideplot, but there now is a unicorn friend who can carry Yvaine. Eventually he carries them both and they go pretty fast.
Tertius is killed off after drinking wine provided by a maid during a romantic liason, that was given to the maid by Septimus. Two brothers, now. Septimus on horseback, Primus in the carriage.
Lamia the witch meets Ditchwater Sal and the slave girl. Sal makes Lamia tell the truth of her quest through some herb while sharing dinner, and learns of the Star. Being angry at being tricked, she curses Sal to not recognise the presence of the Star ever.
Tristran needs to get food, but Yvaine is not hungry. He makes her promise not to run off, and then he releases her from the silver chain. Well, when he gets back, she and the unicorn are gone. He falls asleep under a tree, but then the tree wakes him up, and tells him she is headed to trouble. He is instructed to run to the road, for there is a carriage coming, and is given a leaf that will give him advice when he most needs it. Running to the road, he meets Primus and they join together.
Meanwhile, the witch has made a hotel of sorts, and Yvaine has stopped there. Lamia is treating Yvaine quite well inorder to make the star's heart as happy as possible. Primus and Tristran soon are there as well, with Primus entering the building, and Tristran helping to stable the horses. He is brought out a drink, but the unicorn stops him from drinking it because it is poison. So, with this he realizes there is danger and goes to warn Primus. Well, Primus gets his throat slit. The unicorn attacks the witch and gets his head cut off. Tristran listens to the leaf, grabs hold of Yvaine, and holding the stub of Babylon candle, thrusts it into the fire, and they barely escape the wrath of Lamia.
They end up in clouds. They are rescued by lightning catching sky sailors, who's captain is a member of the same order as the little furry guy. They are taken care of, and Yvaine's leg mends, and Tristran's poor burnt hand is tended to. They are then dropped off at a tree dock, and they head off towards Wall.
Well, Septimus, momentarily being thrown off Primus' trail from a ruse, eventually finds his body, and is angry. If he had killed him, all would have been well, but since he had been murdered by an outsider, he was now duty bound to avenge his brother's killer. So he's now after the witch, who is after the Star. All now are headed towards Wall.
Tristran and the Star meet up with Sal, and in exchange for the glass flower, Sal provides safe passage to Wall, changing him into a mouse for the trip. She has no idea Yvaine is there because of the curse.
The witch sets up a little hut near Wall and is questioning all those who pass. Septimus finds her, and tries to kill her, and is killed in the process, thus all the seven sons are dead.
Sal passes the witches hut, but can truthfully tell her because of the curse that she knows nothing of the Star, and neither is Tristran in danger because he is a mouse. Thus, they safely arrive in Wall.
At petitioning the guards at the hole, Tristran is not allowed through that evening, so he helps set up booths at the fair. In the morning he leaves Yvaine to find his family, and the lovely Victoria. He learns that Victoria was not able to kiss him, not promise him anything because she had become engaged to the grocer, Mr. Monday. She was in a state of panic - she had sent Tristran to his death, but if he did come back, well, she would have to marry him. Well, Tristran reminded her that she didn't promise him marriage, but that he would do what he wished. He then wished her to be happily married.
Almost there.
He has a happy reunion with his family, where he says farewell to them forever. He then passes through the wall, and he and Yvaine acknowledge their love for one another. Well, the witch catches up with Yvaine, and though she is unprotected, her heart now belongs to Tristran, so it is no good to the witch. And, as Victoria and Mr. Monday are joined, the slave girl is freed. She, of course, is the long lost sister, Princess of Stormhold, and thus Tristran is the heir to the kingdom.
There we have had the climax, and the falling action and the end of the plot. The ending is different from the movie, because they try too hard to make it exciting. Usually my favorite parts of books are the nice little denouments at the end. Stardust is no exception.
Well, Tristran really does not want to be king. So, he and mum compromise: He and Yvaine will travel to Stormhold in their own time while she will be the interim leader person. They arrive in Stormhold three years later, and find mum to be doing a good job. Well, since she's doing such a great job, they leave a note (at Yvaine's insistence) saying they are to travel a bit more, and finally arrive back at the capital in rags, to accept their roles.
They are good rulers. He dies, and Yvaine leads on in his death.
Because it took so long to explain the story, it's hard to explain what is so different from the movie. But, I'll try: the movie must have an inferiority complex. My brother once said Canadians must have an inferiority complex because they have to have all the biggest things (i.e. yarn ball, truck, etc. - he lived there for a while, so he can say that.) Well, it's almost as if they didn't believe in the story, or believe that we could accept the simpleness of the ending. Heaven forbid there wasn't pages of sword fighting!
Hollywood, we are not idiots!
But, where the falling action of the plot ended, and the denoument should have begun, that is where we have the problems.
Spoiler Alert! In the book, a number of prophesies/rules are given. One regarding the slavery of Una, the princess of Stormhold, and also about the heart of the Star. Hmm... this could be difficult to explain the ending without explaining the beginning. (If you know the plot, you may skip to nearer the end.) I explained the plot to my coworkers the day after I read the book - it made sense, sort of. Well, here is my attempt:
There are four stories that are intwertwined throughout the graphic novel. Firstly, of the Village of Wall, the Princes of Stormhold, the three witch sisters, and a witch and her slave girl.
To begin, Wall. In the Village, there is a wall. And there is a hole in the wall that no one is allowed to cross. Except for every nine years when a fair comes to the meadow just outside the hole in the wall. Enter Dunstan Thorn. A proper English young man. He boards two people from the other side of Wall, a tall gentleman who promises that his and his son's (him not having a son yet) greatest desire will be fulfilled, and a strange furry little fellow. The next day he goes to the fair, long story short, meets the slave girl at a stall, gets a glass flower, and because of a romantic liason, ends up with a baby in a basket. Oh, and his name is Trist-R-an. Not Tristan. Anyhoo, between the liason and the arrival of the baby, Dunstan is married off to a local girl he had been courting, and things seem to be fine.
Tristran, true to form has fallen in love with Victoria, the most beautiful girl in the village. One night, while trying to court he promises her many things, and then, after seeing a shooting star, promises to bring it back to her in exchange for her doing what he asks. She agrees, believing that he would never actually act upon this foolishness.
Well, Tristran does. And his father, when (my memory of this is a bit fuzzy) tells the truth of his origins, takes him to the hole in the wall, and the sentries allow him to pass. As a parting gift, the father gives him the glass flower.
Tristran first meets the furry fellow. He takes care of Tristran, giving him a Babylon candle which is a method of traveling. The furry fellow has a strange tatoo making him a member of some underground society. This comes into play later, though I didn't catch this until the later. Oh well.
Tristran uses the candle to get to the crater with the candle, and discovers Yvaine who had been knocked out of the sky by a necklace. Her leg broke during the fall, and she somehow has this stupid ruby necklace. Tristran had some of that magic silver chain, and captured her, and they start the journey back.
Necklace: The kingdom of Stormhold's manner of succession is different than most - it is the last surviving male becomes the next King. The current king is on his deathbed, and calls his remaining four sons to him. They must kill each other off, but, he adds a final twist - the ruby necklace that declares to the world that they are the king...well, he takes it off and chucks it. Frankly, he is disgusted that his sons haven't managed to kill off each other by now. One of the sons is killed during the death bed scene, leaving only Primus, Tertius and Septimus. There were originally seven sons, and one daughter, who disappeared many years ago. So, after their father's death, they start off together in their hunt, never eating nor drinking anything they haven't prepared themselves.
Witches: There are three witch sisters who are very old, and don't like the way being old makes them look. If only they had the heart of a star - that would make them young again. Oh, wait, a star just fell from the sky. The heart was best if it was a happy heart, but if the heart belonged to another, it did them no good. So, the head witch begins the hunt, turning a girl into a goat to pull her along.
Ditchwater Sal and slave girl: the girl was to be a slave until the moon loses one of her daughters in a week when two Mondays are joined, or something impossible like that.
Okay, Yvaine (the star) and Tristran start walking back. They encounter a unicorn and lion fighting, and there are a bunch of nursery rhymes that he remembers...this one ends with the lion being declared king of the forest, and taking the crown after winning the fight. Yvaine is crying because the unicorn is being beaten and tell Tristran to stop the fight. So, he takes the crown to the lion, and he leaves. Hooray. Random sideplot, but there now is a unicorn friend who can carry Yvaine. Eventually he carries them both and they go pretty fast.
Tertius is killed off after drinking wine provided by a maid during a romantic liason, that was given to the maid by Septimus. Two brothers, now. Septimus on horseback, Primus in the carriage.
Lamia the witch meets Ditchwater Sal and the slave girl. Sal makes Lamia tell the truth of her quest through some herb while sharing dinner, and learns of the Star. Being angry at being tricked, she curses Sal to not recognise the presence of the Star ever.
Tristran needs to get food, but Yvaine is not hungry. He makes her promise not to run off, and then he releases her from the silver chain. Well, when he gets back, she and the unicorn are gone. He falls asleep under a tree, but then the tree wakes him up, and tells him she is headed to trouble. He is instructed to run to the road, for there is a carriage coming, and is given a leaf that will give him advice when he most needs it. Running to the road, he meets Primus and they join together.
Meanwhile, the witch has made a hotel of sorts, and Yvaine has stopped there. Lamia is treating Yvaine quite well inorder to make the star's heart as happy as possible. Primus and Tristran soon are there as well, with Primus entering the building, and Tristran helping to stable the horses. He is brought out a drink, but the unicorn stops him from drinking it because it is poison. So, with this he realizes there is danger and goes to warn Primus. Well, Primus gets his throat slit. The unicorn attacks the witch and gets his head cut off. Tristran listens to the leaf, grabs hold of Yvaine, and holding the stub of Babylon candle, thrusts it into the fire, and they barely escape the wrath of Lamia.
They end up in clouds. They are rescued by lightning catching sky sailors, who's captain is a member of the same order as the little furry guy. They are taken care of, and Yvaine's leg mends, and Tristran's poor burnt hand is tended to. They are then dropped off at a tree dock, and they head off towards Wall.
Well, Septimus, momentarily being thrown off Primus' trail from a ruse, eventually finds his body, and is angry. If he had killed him, all would have been well, but since he had been murdered by an outsider, he was now duty bound to avenge his brother's killer. So he's now after the witch, who is after the Star. All now are headed towards Wall.
Tristran and the Star meet up with Sal, and in exchange for the glass flower, Sal provides safe passage to Wall, changing him into a mouse for the trip. She has no idea Yvaine is there because of the curse.
The witch sets up a little hut near Wall and is questioning all those who pass. Septimus finds her, and tries to kill her, and is killed in the process, thus all the seven sons are dead.
Sal passes the witches hut, but can truthfully tell her because of the curse that she knows nothing of the Star, and neither is Tristran in danger because he is a mouse. Thus, they safely arrive in Wall.
At petitioning the guards at the hole, Tristran is not allowed through that evening, so he helps set up booths at the fair. In the morning he leaves Yvaine to find his family, and the lovely Victoria. He learns that Victoria was not able to kiss him, not promise him anything because she had become engaged to the grocer, Mr. Monday. She was in a state of panic - she had sent Tristran to his death, but if he did come back, well, she would have to marry him. Well, Tristran reminded her that she didn't promise him marriage, but that he would do what he wished. He then wished her to be happily married.
Almost there.
He has a happy reunion with his family, where he says farewell to them forever. He then passes through the wall, and he and Yvaine acknowledge their love for one another. Well, the witch catches up with Yvaine, and though she is unprotected, her heart now belongs to Tristran, so it is no good to the witch. And, as Victoria and Mr. Monday are joined, the slave girl is freed. She, of course, is the long lost sister, Princess of Stormhold, and thus Tristran is the heir to the kingdom.
There we have had the climax, and the falling action and the end of the plot. The ending is different from the movie, because they try too hard to make it exciting. Usually my favorite parts of books are the nice little denouments at the end. Stardust is no exception.
Well, Tristran really does not want to be king. So, he and mum compromise: He and Yvaine will travel to Stormhold in their own time while she will be the interim leader person. They arrive in Stormhold three years later, and find mum to be doing a good job. Well, since she's doing such a great job, they leave a note (at Yvaine's insistence) saying they are to travel a bit more, and finally arrive back at the capital in rags, to accept their roles.
They are good rulers. He dies, and Yvaine leads on in his death.
Because it took so long to explain the story, it's hard to explain what is so different from the movie. But, I'll try: the movie must have an inferiority complex. My brother once said Canadians must have an inferiority complex because they have to have all the biggest things (i.e. yarn ball, truck, etc. - he lived there for a while, so he can say that.) Well, it's almost as if they didn't believe in the story, or believe that we could accept the simpleness of the ending. Heaven forbid there wasn't pages of sword fighting!
Hollywood, we are not idiots!
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
where's the line?
So, one, I feel quite special for having comments on my last post. wow! But, now to the point.
In the spirit of, one should read the book a movie is based on, before going to see the movie, and how the director's 'vision' ruins the book, I checked out and read Stardust. It is a graphic novel - i.e. comic book for grown-ups. Though I am hesitant to fully recommend the book due to two quite racy incidents, and pictures to go along, the story was inventive, complicated and fun.
However, I was a bit dismayed that the book was in the juvenile section. I mean, the book did not offend me, though it was verging on the way too graphic of description, I'm not sure how I feel about some unsuspecting kid getting the book to read because they liked the movie, and having quite a surprise. And parents getting to explain things because of this surprise.
My freshman year I wrote my English paper on whether Harry Potter was acceptable for children. I didn't come to a fail-safe yes/no answer. In the end, the answer to the thesis question was yes, with the idea that the parents were supervising.
Unfortunately, this isn't always an option. Not all parents are paying attention to what their children are reading.
I remember two instances where my mom censored something: some romance novel a friend had lent her, and she was even embarrassed that she had, and Schindler's List. At the time, I was a bit miffed, especially in regards to the movie. (I was miffed about the book, because, well, I like to read anything and everything.) But looking back, I was 14. Sure, I'd read Number The Stars, Devil's Arithmetic, etc. so I'd known about the Holocaust, but I think she felt that I didn't need to have a first hand look. I'm grateful - especially after having experienced the Holocaust Museum in DC this summer. Some things, though they are truth, can be too much, especially for children.
So, back to the question: where is the line?
Should a graphic portrayal of sex (in words and pictures) be available to children? (And remember, this is nothing about censorship - just availability to children - and yes, a child could easily get it from another section of the library.... Just posing questions here.)
So that's all.
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