Sunday, November 24, 2013

BW48: Happy Thanksgiving

November Evening  
by 
Lucy Maud Montgomery
Come, for the dusk is our own; let us fare forth together,
With a quiet delight in our hearts for the ripe, still, autumn weather,
Through the rustling valley and wood and over the crisping meadow,
Under a high-sprung sky, winnowed of mist and shadow.

Sharp is the frosty air, and through the far hill-gaps showing
Lucent sunset lakes of crocus and green are glowing;
'Tis the hour to walk at will in a wayward, unfettered roaming,
Caring for naught save the charm, elusive and swift, of the gloaming.

Watchful and stirless the fields as if not unkindly holding
Harvested joys in their clasp, and to their broad bosoms folding
Baby hopes of a Spring, trusted to motherly keeping,
Thus to be cherished and happed through the long months of their sleeping.

Silent the woods are and gray; but the firs than ever are greener,
Nipped by the frost till the tang of their loosened balsam is keener;
And one little wind in their boughs, eerily swaying and swinging,
Very soft and low, like a wandering minstrel is singing.

Beautiful is the year, but not as the springlike maiden
Garlanded with her hopes­rather the woman laden
With wealth of joy and grief, worthily won through living,
Wearing her sorrow now like a garment of praise and thanksgiving.

Gently the dark comes down over the wild, fair places,
The whispering glens in the hills, the open, starry spaces;
Rich with the gifts of the night, sated with questing and dreaming,
We turn to the dearest of paths where the star of the homelight is gleaming. 
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Sunday, November 17, 2013

BW47: Candide by Voltaire

Francois Marie Arouet aka Voltaire
I happen to share my birthday with the philosopher Voltaire so highlighting his book Candide which can be read online here.


Chapter I.

How Candide was brought up in a magnificent castle and how he was driven thence.


In the country of Westphalia, in the castle of the most noble baron of Thunder-ten-tronckh, lived a youth whom nature had endowed with a most sweet disposition. His face was the true index of his mind. He had a solid judgment joined to the most unaffected simplicity; and hence, I presume, he had his name of Candide. The old servants of the house suspected him to have been the son of the baron’s sister, by a very good sort of a gentleman of the neighborhood, whom that young lady refused to marry, because he could produce no more than threescore and eleven quarterings in his arms; the rest of the genealogical tree belonging to the family having been lost through the injuries of time.


The baron was one of the most powerful lords in Westphalia; for his castle had not only a gate, but even windows; and his great hall was hung with tapestry. He used to hunt with his mastiffs and spaniels instead of greyhounds; his groom served him for huntsman; and the parson of the parish officiated as his grand almoner. He was called My Lord by all his people, and he never told a story but every one laughed at it.

My lady baroness weighed three hundred and fifty pounds, consequently was a person of no small consideration; and then she did the honors of the house with a dignity that commanded universal respect. Her daughter was about seventeen years of age, fresh colored, comely, plump, and desirable. The baron’s son seemed to be a youth in every respect worthy of the father he sprung from. Pangloss, the preceptor, was the oracle of the family, and little Candide listened to his instructions with all the simplicity natural to his age and disposition.

Master Pangloss taught the metaphysico-theologo-cosmolo-nigology. He could prove to admiration that there is no effect without a cause; and, that in this best of all possible worlds, the baron’s castle was the most magnificent of all castles, and my lady the best of all possible baronesses.

It is demonstrable, said he, that things cannot be otherwise than as they are; for as all things have been created for some end, they must necessarily be created for the best end. Observe, for instance, the nose is formed for spectacles, therefore we wear spectacles. The legs are visibly designed for stockings, accordingly we wear stockings. Stones were made to be hewn, and to construct castles, therefore My Lord has a magnificent castle; for the greatest baron in the province ought to be the best lodged. Swine were intended to be eaten, therefore we eat pork all the year round: and they, who assert that everything is right, do not express themselves correctly; they should say that everything is best.

Candide listened attentively, and believed implicitly; for he thought Miss Cunegund excessively handsome, though he never had the courage to tell her so. He concluded that next to the happiness of being baron of Thunder-ten-tronckh, the next was that of being Miss Cunegund, the next that of seeing her every day, and the last that of hearing the doctrine of Master Pangloss, the greatest philosopher of the whole province, and consequently of the whole world.

One day when Miss Cunegund went to take a walk in a little neighboring wood which was called a park, she saw, through the bushes, the sage Doctor Pangloss giving a lecture in experimental philosophy to her mother’s chambermaid, a little brown wench, very pretty, and very tractable. As Miss Cunegund had a great disposition for the sciences, she observed with the utmost attention the experiments, which were repeated before her eyes; she perfectly well understood the force of the doctor’s reasoning upon causes and effects. She retired greatly flurried, quite pensive and filled with the desire of knowledge, imagining that she might be a sufficing reason for young Candide, and he for her.

On her way back she happened to meet the young man; she blushed, he blushed also; she wished him a good morning in a flattering tone, he returned the salute without knowing what he said. The next day, as they were rising from dinner, Cunegund and Candide slipped behind the screen. The miss dropped her handkerchief, the young man picked it up. She innocently took hold of his hand, and he as innocently kissed hers with a warmth, a sensibility, a grace — all very particular; their lips met; their eyes sparkled; their knees trembled; their hands strayed. The baron chanced to come by; he beheld the cause and effect, and, without hesitation, saluted Candide with some notable kicks on the breech, and drove him out of doors. The lovely Miss Cunegund fainted away, and, as soon as she came to herself, the baroness boxed her ears. Thus a general consternation was spread over this most magnificent and most agreeable of all possible castles.

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Sunday, November 10, 2013

BW46: Literary Birthdays




Time to celebrate a few more author birthdays and load up your wishlists for 2014!!!


November 10 

Winston Churchill (Nobel Prize for Literature in 1953 - political/historical nonfiction)
Neil Gaiman (science fiction/fantasy novels, comics and films)
Jacob Cats (Dutch poet)
Oliver Goldsmith (Irish novelist)

 November 11 

Fyodor Dostoevsky (Russian Literature)
Kurt Vonnegut (science fiction)
Carlos Fuentes (Mexican novelist)
Mircea Dinescu (Romanian poet)

November 12

Roland Barthes (French literary critic)
Wally Shawn (American Playwright)

November 13 

Robert Louis Stevenson (Scottish novelist)

November 14

Astrid Lingren (Swedish children's writer)
Norman MacCaig (Scottish Poet)

November 15

Tim Pears (British novelist) 
Gerhart Hauptmann (Nobel Prize in literature in 1912 - German novelist)

November 16

Jose Saramago (Nobel Prize in literature in 1998 - Portuguese novelist)
Chinua Achebe (Nigerian novelist)



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Sunday, November 3, 2013

BW45: National Novel Writing Month and Nonfiction November



Welcome to November and colder days and early nights, curling up in a comfy chair, with a good book or two or three!  November is also the month of writing craziness, National Novel Writing Month in which participants try to write 50,000 words in 30 days.  I discovered NaNoWriMo back in 2007 and have been doing it ever since.  My son joined in last year and will be doing so again this year writing a fan fiction story combining several characters from different video games and movies. 

I'm being a rebel this year and totally reworking a story I started three years ago.  A minor character turned into a major character and it became her story. I had multiple points of view and plot holes the size of Wyoming.   So, I decided to rewrite the whole thing.  I'm combining or eliminating other characters altogether.   I've been in a writing slump for quite a while, so hoping the challenge will get me back in the habit of writing everyday.  

I'm also declaring November to be Nonfiction November.  I don't read a lot of nonfiction and have all these books sitting on the shelf feeling neglected.  Plus I created the C.S. Lewis and Inspiration Mini challenges at the beginning of the year and failing miserably at those. Decided now would be the perfect time to plunge into those books.  I'm going to keep it simple and not bite off more than I can chew, like I usually do. I'm committing to one a week.  Waiting in the wings are Lewis's Mere Christianity, St. Theresa's A Life of Prayer and  George Orwell's Why I Write.  For my husband, since he's already read the book and driving me crazy about reading it -  Yes, Your Teen is Crazy: Loving your kid without losing your mind by Michael J. Bradley.

What reads are on your nightstand for November? 

Daylight Saving Time ends tonight so don't forget to set your clocks back an hour if you are in the U.S. or a country that observe DST. 

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