Dreams of Gods and Monsters: I waited for it with twitching fingers and palpitating heart. I pre-ordered early in 2014, even had the release date (April 8th from Little, Brown and Company) on my office calendar. Fountain Bookstore, my local indie, tweeted a reminder to pick up my book early on the 8th.
P!nk gif I borrowed
I couldn’t get by there fast enough…except Tuesday became Wednesday became Saturday. But I finally had it and I didn’t want to emerge.
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Even when the phone rang.
Golden Girls gif I borrowed
Then Sunday, while dog sitting for a neighbor, the adorable Ewok-looking, 7-month-old cocker spaniel sailed onto the couch in an ecstatic bound and peed on my book.
Peed. On my. Book.
Even drenched in dog pee, Laini Taylor’s writing is green-monster-provoking good. I read lines out loud to Adam, avoiding spoilers, of course. I want to be Laini Taylor. Well no, I’m rather fond of my own husband, family, friends, and even my wonky right knee. I want her writing brain: her weird imagination where gods slumber in teakettles. I want her writing ability, the alchemy that turns paper into Prague snowflakes. But I can’t be Laini Taylor. That’s not my voice or style. And it breaks my heart.
That heartache becomes part of my writing life, so it’s all good, and I read on.
So far it’s nail-biting awesomeness.
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And I’ve been like this a time or two:
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Every year on Good Friday, I read John Donne’s “Good Friday, 1613. Riding Westward.” It’s been a while since I went to a Good Friday service, but I faithfully return to this poetry. It might be 401 years old, but the words stir me more than modern devotionals and sermons:
There I should see a Sun by rising, set,
And by that setting endless day beget;
But that Christ on this cross did rise and fall,
Sin had eternally benighted all.
Yet dare I almost be glad I do not see
That spectacle, of too much weight for me.
Who sees God’s face, that is self-life, must die;
What a death were it then to see God die?
It made his own lieutenant, Nature, shrink;
It made his footstool crack, and the sun wink.
Could I behold those hands which span the poles,
And tune all spheres at once, pierced with those holes? (11-22)
People say don’t discuss religion in polite society (why not, if it is respectful of all?), but I hope you’ll forgive me for poetry. If you’re interested in the entire poem, you can find it here.
Sadly, I must write of another passing. We lost Gabriel García Márquez yesterday. His work will touch the world for many lifetimes to come. I’ll likely read one of his books this weekend. What’s your favorite?
Photo by Reuters
“I owe him the impulse and the freedom to plunge into literature. In his books I found my own family, my country, the people I have known all my life, the colour, the rhythm, and the abundance of my continent.”
Gidion was left at Proper Pie Company
We gave out books by favorite authors: Erica Orloff, Kristen-Paige Madonia, and Malinda Lo
Know a teen looking for a good book? Or maybe you’re looking for a free Friday read? Yesterday I joined Katharine Herndon and Bill Blume, friends from James River Writers, to #rockthedrop in honor of Celebrate Teen Literature Day. Check out ReaderGirlz explanation of Rock the Drop. We left favorite books by Malinda Lo, Kristen-Paige Madonia, Erica Orloff in Patrick Henry Park and across Church Hill.
#FridayReads from around the web
Publishers Weekly shared the unique and utterly fabulous way audience questions were picked at New York Public Library event on April 11th. (Click the link for video.)
LIVE from the NYPL photo. Click for more photos.
Thanks for getting through the long post. At least I gave you P!nk, David Tennant, Bea Arthur, John Donne, Benedict Cumberbatch, Gabo, Isabel Allende, and Neil Gaiman in a single post. Happy Friday!
Sherlock gif I borrowed
*#FridayReads is the brainchild of the fabulous Bethanne Patrick (@TheBookMaven on Twitter). It’s a Twitter conversation for every bibliophile to share loves and find new ones.