Wednesday, February 27, 2008

POEM OF THE MONTH



Cloudy peaks fill the eyes,
far from the lightness of spring;
silver spools of calligraphy
take shape beneath my hand.

Too bad my silken woman's dress
obscures my poetry;
looking up, I uselessly
envy the names on the list I see.



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Wednesday, February 20, 2008

GIVE US BACK OUR BOOKS!



The Greater Victoria Public Library Board (GVPLB) has decided to lock-out the librarians from their workplace. This is an escalation of a pay dispute ongoing for five months.
Librarians cannot make a living wage in Victoria due to the high cost of housing, food and other goods. They provide a valuable service to the people of this city. Victoria (or should it be Victorian?) librarians create a hub for education, knowledge, and simply an inexpensively safe place to take the kids on a rainy day. Here I must assure the librarians that, at least my youngest, has supervision at all times. The teen simply wanders off, mp3 player headphones hardwired, into the manga section. Librarians are not babysitters or mere book jockeys or shelvers of books. The librarians I know are very patient when treated with respect, eager to assist, and competent guides to the library's resources.

The GVPLB, despite the professional work of Victoria's librarians, have denied these knowledge workers a raise after ten years of broken promises to remedy the situation
.

Please send a message of support to the librarians. Thank you!

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Friday, February 8, 2008

GREGORY MAGUIRE



I would like to start off this book review with much thanks to A.J. I have no idea who you are but you left your name (which I have not used in full) scribbled on a torn piece of paper in blue ink your name and word conspirtor (slightly misspelled, that's okay) between pages 150 and 151 of the book Lost by Gregory Maguire. Yes,I have a copy of the note. I left the original in
the book.Scanners are wonderful inventions. No, I won't tell anyone what your real name is and it will remain a secret. Mine. And yours.

That little bit of business out of the way, I truly love Gregory Maguire's books. I have read Wicked, Son of a Witch, Mirror, Mirror, and now Lost. Thank Goddess for libraries or I would be broke buying books like Li Qingzhao.

Yes, it is difficult to say which book I enjoyed the most. Of the four that I have read, Wicked, Lost, and Son of a Witch are the strongest. Mirror, Mirror is emotionally flat. The book is too studied and self conscious of its word play. The three I enjoyed are rich in word texture and emotion. I felt deep sadness at the death of Elfie in Wicked. Son of A Witch was effective because there was her absence throughout the novel.

Lost was spotty in its narrative flow. There wasn't consistent thread in the story to recommend it as one of Maguire's best.
While there was the bumpy flow to the tale, Lost was still have-to-turn-another-page-just-to- see-what-happens-book. It was also a bit eerie to read. I was reading Lost and come to a passage about a family that had lost children in a fire. The fictional family had hired an adoption agency to soothe their loss of two children. I also had read, at the time, an article in the Vancouver Sun about a family that was using IVF to soothe their loss of children in a house fire. The coincidence was creepy and strange. However, I am not surprised to have the synchronization. There have been many times when I have thought of a relative (not always with loving emotions) and the relative has telephoned. I have had strong premonitions about people that have come close to the mark. I half, and only half, joke that it is the witch blood from my father's genealogy that creates the odd happenings I have found in my life.

Yes, of course, I'm rational while I write this blog. The soughing of the British Columbia wind has not got my senses, yet. Tomorrow will be dedicated to the grind after a pleasant literary holiday with Mr Maguire. Hélas, it is back to schlepping for hire work while trying to write the somewhat readable Canadian novel. 'Til then...

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POEM OF THE MONTH



Hélas!

To drift with every passion till my soul
Is a stringed lute on which can winds can play,
Is it for this that I have given away
Mine ancient wisdom and austere control?
Methinks my life is a twice-written scroll
Scrawled over on some boyish holiday

With idle songs for pipe and virelay,
Which do but mar the secret of the whole.
Surely there was a time I might have trod
The sunlit heights, and from life's dissonance
Struck one clear chord to reach the ears of God:

Is that time dead? lo! with a little rod
I did but touch the honey of romance -
And must I lose a soul's inheritance?

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Sunday, February 3, 2008

WEBBY AWARDS



I recently finished a stint as a reviewer for the Webby Awards. The producer that I worked with was fantastic. She should be cloned, photocopied, scanned, or otherwise replicated for being a great coach through my first time as a reviewer. I have had no trouble with these employers because they were fair dealing with their expectations. And I'm getting paid!

I enjoyed the process. There are some gems but a lot of drek on the Internet. The best lessons that I took from this employment was to look at my own blogs to critique the functionality and design. I've been revising the type on the site and creating a consistent look.

And maybe, if I am not busy this time next year, I might sign up again.

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