Month: April 2023 (Page 1 of 3)

Freaky Face

I’m reading John Bellairs’s The Face in the Frost, and I guess I was not prepared for how creepy and downright scary this book can be at times. I’m not sure why this surprised me since Bellairs is known for scary YA fiction, but I’ve been pleasantly (and creepily) surprised by how spooky The Face in the Frost is.

It’s a wonderful mixture of anachronistic elements and a sort of whimsical and madcap, everything-and-the-kitchen-sink type fantasy, but then it adds these supernatural horror elements, and it makes for a unique experience. I really love these pre-1980s fantasy novels where there’s a playful spirit of anything goes.

As I often do, I wonder if a book like this could be written today, or if there are authors who are doing this sort of thing in our current fantasy literature scene. There very well might be; I’m not well-read enough in today’s novels to say one way or another. But I am curious if there’s a place for Bellairs’s style of fantasy in our current moment.

A Homegrown Reading Challenge

Our house is stuffed with books. I don’t choose the word “stuffed” lightly. There are times when no matter where I look in our house, there are stacks of books in sight. Shelves overflowing with books, floors littered with books, stacks of books sprouting on tables and chairs and the ends of beds. I don’t necessarily mind that we have so many books (although I do wish we had more shelving space for them). What frustrates me, instead, is that we have so many books I have yet to read. So many. Whenever I see a book I haven’t read yet, I get anxious.

Time’s running out. Why haven’t you read me yet? I might be a masterpiece, but you’d never know. You’re too busy downloading books to your Hoopla app or your Kindle, or getting a book on loan from the library.

When I check out a book from the library, I sometimes get the feeling of an unfaithful wife stepping out on her man. I’m having an affair with one of these outside books. What about all the perfectly good books I have at home? They’re just waiting for me to notice them, to pick them up and start reading. What’s holding me back?

We honestly have enough unread books in our house for me to read two or three a month for years before I’ve exhausted them all. And yet, I’m off to the library again this week to pick up a book on hold.

Maybe when I’ve finished with my current crop of library books, I can embark on a new challenge for the summer. Maybe I only read books that can be found in our house from June through August. No outside books. Just me and the unread stacks on the floor (and on the bed, and on the nightstand, and on the ledges of bookshelves).

I’ll have to make exceptions for my weekly book club’s book, but otherwise, I’m sticking close to home for my reading choices. I can always go back to checking out library books when fall begins, but for the summer at least, I can only check out materials from the home library.

It will be hard to forgo digital books, though. I have SO MANY on my Kindle that I want to read, and SO MANY from Hoopla that I want to download. But it’ll only be three months, and for three months, I can stick with paperbacks and hardcovers. This will have the added bonus of showing my kids that I can live a life without constant screen time. Yes, more often than not, I’m using my screens for reading purposes, but my kids don’t always get that. They just see mom staring at a screen for half a day (not counting my desktop, which I stare at for the other half of the day).

If I’m only reading the books on our shelves, then they’ll see me with my nose in a book. A real, physical book. That will be a good thing to model to my children.

(Not that they don’t already love reading and have their own noses in books constantly, but I know they feel the allure of the screens too. They often make their own “phones” out of paper or cardboard and “play games” and “open apps” on them, which is really just them pressing on the pictures they drew on the paper and playing pretend, but still. It’s adorable, but also worrying that they desire a phone so badly.)

I know this challenge will mean rearranging my reading list a bit. Instead of reading my digital copy of Kothar and the Demon Queen, I’ll have to switch to reading the Fred Saberhagen paperback I got for my birthday a couple of years ago, or the copy of Witch World my husband brought home from a resale shop a while back. Instead of reading a new ebook about the craft of writing, I’ll have to pick up a non-fiction book from home about some other skill or art. And instead of getting the latest political book from the library, I can dive into the history and philosophy books we already have.

We have tons of comic books I’ve never read, tons of pulp books I’ve never read, tons of history and science books I’ve never read, and tons of contemporary and classic novels I’ve never read. I really won’t lack for variety, I just need to shift my plan to accommodate what’s on our shelves and not what’s available via inter-library loan.

As soon as I finish the library and ebooks I’m currently reading, I’ll make the switch to at-home books only. No more stepping out. At least for the summer.

Listening to Starlight

Been listening to a lot of synth from HDK, an Italian record label that specializes in, as they call it, “ambient punk, minimal-synth, dungeon-drone, wartime music and post-nuclear wave.”

I’ve written before about how I discovered the dungeon synth genre and then eventually found out that some of the artists have disgusting Nazi/fascist leanings. Not all of them, thank goodness, but enough to make me wary of seeking out new bands.

I vowed in my earlier post that I would give up the genre and stick with other music for inspiration, but HDK is one of those labels I haven’t given up on. They still release incredibly cool music, and since they are left wing politically, I don’t have to worry about supporting fascists by listening to the music they put out.

(I have also found a couple other dungeon synth artists whom I researched to make sure they weren’t gross, so I’m proceeding with caution with their music at the moment too. But it’s too bad I have to do this in the first place.)

Right now I’m listening to Starlight by Logic Gate. It’s futuristic, very 1980s sci-fi/thriller movie vibe. The cassette tape is made of yellow plastic and the liner notes come with a little grid game called “Asteroids Storm.” Every product from HDK has this kind of playful, throwback aesthetic and interactive quality. I really should splurge some day and buy a cassette of one of these albums. The dungeon synth ones often come with a little dungeon crawl module inside that fits with the music.

What I like about this kind of synth music, especially when I’m writing or getting ready to write, is that they set a distinct mood and ambiance, and since there are no words, I can get lost in the vibes of the music without getting caught up in the lyrics.

I do like music with lyrics for inspiration too, but I’ve found that I do better when I listen to those songs outside of my writing time. Maybe when going on a walk or driving or biking. Then my mind can interact with the poetry of the lyrics.

But before putting my fingers on the keyboard to type, I tend to prefer the synth stuff, especially when I need to get into a certain mood. Classical music works for me similarly (or movie soundtracks). Or other instrumental music.

What’s cool about the stuff from HDK is that they really carry the vibe over into the whole product. Even though I’ve never purchased a cassette from them, the pictures of the product are inspirational, as is the narrative aspect of the songs themselves. These are concept albums telling cohesive stories, and that kind of conceptual design helps focus my own attempts to create narrative.

Some of what HDK releases is not to my taste aesthetically. Some of the more horror-related albums, for instance. But in general terms, they have a vibe that I very much dig. It’s punk and pulpy, both tongue-in-cheek and earnest in its dedication to reviving a look and feel from the past. They’ve created a sonic universe that makes me want to write stories in their world.

Swamps of Sadness

My husband and I were discussing which movies to watch with our kids for our family movie nights, and I thought it was time to show them some of the old fantasy movies from the 1970s and 80s like Rankin and Bass’s The Hobbit and Jim Henson’s Labyrinth.

We both mentioned The Neverending Story, but then we thought, “Uh oh. Artax.”

Both of us had the same experience as probably every other kid who watched that movie, and that’s the experience of intense grief after watching Atreyu and Artax try to get through the Swamps of Sadness.

Our daughter is tenderhearted and loves animals deeply, and we both know that if we showed her The Neverending Story, she would be absolutely wrecked by the Artax scene.

So what do we do? We both love the movie; it was formative for us. And we were both devastated by the Artax scene as kids. I mean, that scene still gets me. Just thinking about it earlier made me tear up.

Do we pass on showing her the movie? Or do we tell her that even though there’s a really sad part, the rest of the movie is amazing?

In some ways, I want to shield her from that kind grief. I don’t want my daughter to cry.

But then I think of my own experience as a kid watching this movie, and how the intense sadness I felt at Artax’s death was somehow important to my development as a person. It showed me that death happens even when we don’t want it to. Even when it’s someone we love. Going through the process of weeping over Artax’s death, and watching Atreyu continue his quest despite the loss of his friend, was a kind of growing-up moment for me. The story revealed an important truth. Wouldn’t it be wrong to shield my daughter from that truth simply because I don’t want her to cry?

Of course, we could always wait a year or two before showing The Neverending Story, but I don’t think a year or two will matter. I still cry when I watch that scene. It will be sad at any age.

Should we avoid stories that make us so sad? Should we keep those kinds of stories at bay because they cut too deeply?

I don’t really know the answer. I know that I often cry when watching movies or listening to certain songs, and that I feel intense emotions when experiencing stories in all their various forms. This is the catharsis the Greeks believed was so important. We need to let out our emotions, even the really big and troubling ones. I wouldn’t want to stop watching movies just because they might make me cry. In a weird way, I like that experience.

But I know not everybody does. I know from my teaching experience that many students really didn’t like to read a sad book or watch a sad movie. They were uncomfortable feeling those feelings. For them, the crying and sadness didn’t lead to catharsis, or if it did, it was an unsatisfying catharsis, a stunted one.

Maybe their negative reactions were due to never having watched movies like The Neverending Story as kids. Maybe their discomfort with sadness was because they didn’t experience it in the stories they read and watched in childhood. Because they never had to process something as traumatic as Artax’s death when they were little, they couldn’t find value or meaning in some of the sad books that were part of the curriculum in high school. Maybe for them, stories needed not just a happy ending, but a kind of pervasive always-happiness that never allowed for anything too bad to happen. There might be danger and peril, but nothing would ever go too far.

Or maybe their discomfort with sad movies was because their lives were already too difficult and traumatic, and there truly was no value in living through someone’s fictional trauma. Maybe they needed those always-happy stories because they needed a total escape from whatever bleakness was in their lives already.

I honestly don’t know why some of these students rejected the sad books for their sadness, but I don’t think their rejection of them was illegitimate. I just know that for me, these sad stories made me feel less alone. Sometimes the danger and peril went “too far,” and the characters had to suffer, but that suffering connected me to them in ways that went very deep.

Artax’s death is a “too far” moment: a horrible, shocking event that has no last-minute save. When he dies, he dies. And Atreyu must mourn.

But his death isn’t the end. The quest must continue, or else the entire universe gets destroyed by the Nothing. That was a powerful moment for me, watching Artax die and seeing that Atreyu couldn’t change or fix it. And that he still needed to keep going even after his friend’s death.

Maybe if we talk about it as a family and help our daughter both prepare for the scene and also process it afterward, maybe then we can watch The Neverending Story. One of the joys of being a parent is sharing my favorite stories with my kids. We’ve listened to some of the Little House on the Prairie and Chronicles of Narnia books on audio, we’ve read all the Frog and Toads, we’ve watched all the original Muppet movies, and we’ve spent many a Saturday morning watching Pee Wee’s Playhouse.

Now, perhaps, it’s time to ride on the back of a luck dragon and watch The Neverending Story. And we can all cry together.

Killing Silverfish

There’s one on the wall of my office right now. I hate trying to kill these gross insects because they’re so flipping fast when they move, and then when you do kill them, they basically disintegrate into a weird silvery smudge.

It’s gliding along the wall, going back and forth, trying to shimmy its way up the wooden molding, but I think it’s unable to do it for whatever reason. Maybe it’s legs aren’t strong enough.

I just looked them up, and it turns out silverfish eat paper, which means they can destroy books, and I have several piles of books on the floor of my office (taken from my old classroom), and I wonder: Do I need to worry about them? Can the silverfish really destroy my books? How many silverfish are gliding their way through my basement at this very moment?

It almost made it up the molding just now. I thought it was going to fall off the wall, its little body sort of dangling as it tried to clutch the molding and pull itself up. But it gave up and scooted back down onto the drywall.

That’s when I squashed it. With a book catalog that came in the mail today. It left a streak of silver on the back page, smudging a few words: the advertising copy for a new book.

I don’t feel bad about killing the silverfish, but I do feel bad that it never made it up the molding.

« Older posts

© 2024 Jennifer M. Baldwin

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑