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| Death comes for Lou |
Tuesday, March 10, 2020
Monday, March 9, 2020
Baby will just have to have a ham sandwich instead.
Good morning! Time to get ready for work! Quick, get dressed! Take a shower! Oops, wrong order. Never mind; at least you and your clothes are clean. Now pack that lunch and let's bug out!
Of course you're in a hurry; that's why we're sending you out with a frozen sandwich to enjoy.
The LaunchBox frozen sandwich is one of the odder food offerings to be reviewed on this blog. The idea is that the kid packs one of these packages containing a little sandwich, and by the time lunch rolls along, it's edible.
It's a cute little thing, self contained in a bread shell. It comes in four flavors, Chicken Cheddar, Turkey Jack, Pepperoni Jack, and this Colby Ham. If you insist on condiments, you can always grab a packet of mustard at the cafeteria and dip it, I guess. But it's not dry. It is small, though. Here's one posed next to a standard piece of white bread for size comparison.
An adult might want to pack two. There are only four in the box, so you'd need to fill up the freezer. But at $4.49 a box, as it was at my local supermarket, or $1.13 a sandwich, it's not super economical. I had a coupon.
As for the taste, I did like the sandwich. It's uncured ham and some Colby, just as advertised; nothing wrong with that. The thing is, though, you really have to defrost it under lunchbox conditions. What I mean by that is, when I put one in the fridge at breakfast time, it was still partly frozen by lunchtime. And that's nasty. It's really a sadwich instead of a sandwich.
Unfortunately the manufacturer does not actually give you any instructions about this. For all I knew, it would completely defrost after three or four hours in the refrigerator. I probably should have left it on the counter, but that has its problems too; LaunchBox does warn that you should eat it within three hours after defrosting. But you can't even see it in the packaging, nor really tell by feel whether it has defrosted in the middle. You may know, when you send little Ralphie off in the morning, how long it will be until his lunchtime, but it's tricky if you want to bring some to Little League practice, when you don't know for sure when snacktime will break out. Some more instructions would not be amiss here, LunchBox. (The company Web site is attractive and almost useless.)
I must say, though, that kids would probably love these sammiches, although I did not have any children field-test them for me. They're kid-size, they're neatly self-contained, and unlike the similar Smuckers Uncrustables, they all feature cheese, which seems to be a point of necessity for all children except those who cannot digest or are allergic to dairy.
The title of today's post, as you undoubtedly know, comes from the 1947 Bugs Bunny classic "Slick Hare," the one where Humphrey Bogart threatens Elmer Fudd if he can't produce some fried rabbit. But this product also put me in mind of a semi-classic from 1975 (seen in syndication through 1985), Sid & Marty Krofft's Far Out Space Nuts. Why? You'd know if you remembered the opener:
I have a soft spot for this show, and for stars Bob Denver and Chuck McCann, but I still have to wonder if children's TV has improved more than children's lunches over the years.
Sunday, March 8, 2020
Tock to me.
Tick tock! I trust you shoved the old clocks forward an hour -- if you live in a place that follows Daylight Savings Time.
It's not an onerous chore, but it demands attention. About half of our most crucial clocks adjust to daylight savings time automatically now. The cable box is one we rely on a lot; there's also an Oregon Scientific weather/clock doodad that gets its info straight from the big NIST-F1 atomic clock in Boulder, or so I recall from the the manufacturer's manual. Sometimes it takes a few hours to pick up the signal and make the change. Our computers update automatically, of course, and the phones. I think my wife's new car does it automatically too, but my 2011 car does not. She also has a step-counting watch that changes as needed, but my analog Eco-Drive Citizen has to be moved forward by hand.
We are also divided on the matter of bathroom clocks. She has one that is programmed to adjust on schedule; the bathroom I focus my efforts in has a cheapo digital that has to be changed manually. It's a good time to check the time, actually, since that clock can lose a minute.
The stove clock is another manual adjuster. The coffeepot too, but we gave up on that one ages ago. The numbers are small, and it's near the bright stove display. Since we don't use its timer feature, we ignore it.
The seldom-used DVD player? I've never programmed the time on that. Don't use it to record, so why bother? Its screen just says --:--.
Similar case with the digital thermostat. When we were both commuting it was a godsend, adjusting the temperature a bit in advance of arrival so the house would be comfortable when we got there. Now that we work at home, I keep it up to date for reference only. Sometimes you want to know the time when you're in the hall. Not often, I know.
And since we do work from home, that means two analog office clocks that have to be advanced.
The bedrooms have digital clocks, and dumb ones; they need to be advanced by hand. One was a futuristic iPhone clock, in which you could dock your iPhone, and while it was charging it would reset the clock if needed. The clock could use any music or sound effect on your phone to wake you up. Unfortunately, the iPhones stopped using that connector, so it's just another digital clock now.
There was an old digital in the unfinished basement, but I haven't bothered plugging it in for ages.
I think that's all of them, but I always feel like there's something I forgot. Since our smoke detectors are hardwired into the house, they don't need battery changing. All the appliances I didn't mention are too dumb to tell time, let alone be connected to the Internet, which is fine by me. When the computer revolution begins, at least I won't get attacked by my washing machine.
The one plus about springing ahead is that the dogs can't tell time. When we fall back an hour in November, they don't see it as an extra hour of sleep. So they want to get up at five instead of six. It takes a while to adjust them to the clock time. Today, they waited until almost seven, which was six yesterday, so while I don't gain an hour of sleep, at least on Dog Standard Time I don't lose one.
Okay, that's everyone and everything accounted for! Bring on spring!
It's not an onerous chore, but it demands attention. About half of our most crucial clocks adjust to daylight savings time automatically now. The cable box is one we rely on a lot; there's also an Oregon Scientific weather/clock doodad that gets its info straight from the big NIST-F1 atomic clock in Boulder, or so I recall from the the manufacturer's manual. Sometimes it takes a few hours to pick up the signal and make the change. Our computers update automatically, of course, and the phones. I think my wife's new car does it automatically too, but my 2011 car does not. She also has a step-counting watch that changes as needed, but my analog Eco-Drive Citizen has to be moved forward by hand.
We are also divided on the matter of bathroom clocks. She has one that is programmed to adjust on schedule; the bathroom I focus my efforts in has a cheapo digital that has to be changed manually. It's a good time to check the time, actually, since that clock can lose a minute.
The stove clock is another manual adjuster. The coffeepot too, but we gave up on that one ages ago. The numbers are small, and it's near the bright stove display. Since we don't use its timer feature, we ignore it.
The seldom-used DVD player? I've never programmed the time on that. Don't use it to record, so why bother? Its screen just says --:--.
Similar case with the digital thermostat. When we were both commuting it was a godsend, adjusting the temperature a bit in advance of arrival so the house would be comfortable when we got there. Now that we work at home, I keep it up to date for reference only. Sometimes you want to know the time when you're in the hall. Not often, I know.
And since we do work from home, that means two analog office clocks that have to be advanced.
The bedrooms have digital clocks, and dumb ones; they need to be advanced by hand. One was a futuristic iPhone clock, in which you could dock your iPhone, and while it was charging it would reset the clock if needed. The clock could use any music or sound effect on your phone to wake you up. Unfortunately, the iPhones stopped using that connector, so it's just another digital clock now.
There was an old digital in the unfinished basement, but I haven't bothered plugging it in for ages.
I think that's all of them, but I always feel like there's something I forgot. Since our smoke detectors are hardwired into the house, they don't need battery changing. All the appliances I didn't mention are too dumb to tell time, let alone be connected to the Internet, which is fine by me. When the computer revolution begins, at least I won't get attacked by my washing machine.
The one plus about springing ahead is that the dogs can't tell time. When we fall back an hour in November, they don't see it as an extra hour of sleep. So they want to get up at five instead of six. It takes a while to adjust them to the clock time. Today, they waited until almost seven, which was six yesterday, so while I don't gain an hour of sleep, at least on Dog Standard Time I don't lose one.
Okay, that's everyone and everything accounted for! Bring on spring!
Saturday, March 7, 2020
I am not sick.
I am not sick.
I AM NOT SICK.
Just because my nose keeps running, and I feel tired and run-down, does not mean I am sick.
And yes, I have been in several places where people meet and shake hands, and also in a doctor's office this past week. But that was a pain-management specialist and he doesn't count.
I AM NOT SICK.
Writing this on Friday afternoon, listening to more reports on the coronavirus, as the number of cases here in New York ticks upward -- 33 right now. Not much? Well, didn't stop Evil-Eyes Andy Cuomo from grabbing some weird, undefined emergency powers.
But that's fine. Because I am not sick.
Yes, I live in the lower Hudson Valley, not too far from Woodbury Common, Disneyland for shoppers, which is one of the top tourist destinations in the state. Very popular with Japanese travelers and, in more recent years, Chinese travelers. It's true that the travel bans recently have made an impact on the place. I know someone who works in one of the stores, a money machine that takes in $25,000 a day normally. The take is down, by 20% to 40% of late. But the tourists haven't vanished entirely.
And yes, this person claimed to be sick on Thursday. Cold-like symptoms. But I did not contact this person in person.
Which is why I AM NOT SICK.
Now we hear that coronavirus can be spread via "fecal shedding." Okay, well, I don't touch other people's butts. But we don't have to:
I could just have a mild cold, anyway. It is still winter, you know. Will be for two more weeks. Of course, the weather has been really mild.... That's it! Early spring, as forecast by Punxsutawney Phil; this is just seasonal allergies, earlier than expected.
That's all.
I'm going to go take a nice hot shower now....
Shortly thereafter
Ahh. Much better. Yes, I'm still rather run-down, but it was a busy workday. I'm sure I'll be just fine on Saturday morning if I get a good night's sleep. Which I will ensure by taking some diphenhydramine, which will treat the seasonal allergies, which is probably what I have, if anything, or if not that just a mild cold.
That's all.
Saturday morning
All right, I still don't feel great, but I am certain it's not coronavirus at least. A New York county health department released this:
The three distinguishing symptoms are shortness of breath, cough, and fever, and I have none of these. I'm just tired, sniffly, and paranoid. Sounds like I'm in the clear! Probably just allergies.
All the same, I'm keeping my hands in my pockets the whole time I'm outside the house. It may be difficult to drive that way, but my health is worth it.
I AM NOT SICK.
Just because my nose keeps running, and I feel tired and run-down, does not mean I am sick.
And yes, I have been in several places where people meet and shake hands, and also in a doctor's office this past week. But that was a pain-management specialist and he doesn't count.
I AM NOT SICK.
Writing this on Friday afternoon, listening to more reports on the coronavirus, as the number of cases here in New York ticks upward -- 33 right now. Not much? Well, didn't stop Evil-Eyes Andy Cuomo from grabbing some weird, undefined emergency powers.
But that's fine. Because I am not sick.
Yes, I live in the lower Hudson Valley, not too far from Woodbury Common, Disneyland for shoppers, which is one of the top tourist destinations in the state. Very popular with Japanese travelers and, in more recent years, Chinese travelers. It's true that the travel bans recently have made an impact on the place. I know someone who works in one of the stores, a money machine that takes in $25,000 a day normally. The take is down, by 20% to 40% of late. But the tourists haven't vanished entirely.
And yes, this person claimed to be sick on Thursday. Cold-like symptoms. But I did not contact this person in person.
Which is why I AM NOT SICK.
 |
| Scene from the film Contagion, which I did not see and do not have to see because I am not sick. |
Now we hear that coronavirus can be spread via "fecal shedding." Okay, well, I don't touch other people's butts. But we don't have to:
The toilet bowl, sink, and bathroom door handle of an isolation room housing a patient with the novel coronavirus tested positive for the virus, raising the possibility that viral shedding in the stool could represent another route of transmission, investigators reported.Oh, goody! So, like that guy at my old office who was NEVER, EVER seen to wash his hands in the toilet (I'm not kidding) would have a new and interesting way to play Typhoid Murray. Glad I work at home now.
I could just have a mild cold, anyway. It is still winter, you know. Will be for two more weeks. Of course, the weather has been really mild.... That's it! Early spring, as forecast by Punxsutawney Phil; this is just seasonal allergies, earlier than expected.
That's all.
I'm going to go take a nice hot shower now....
Shortly thereafter
Ahh. Much better. Yes, I'm still rather run-down, but it was a busy workday. I'm sure I'll be just fine on Saturday morning if I get a good night's sleep. Which I will ensure by taking some diphenhydramine, which will treat the seasonal allergies, which is probably what I have, if anything, or if not that just a mild cold.
That's all.
Saturday morning
All right, I still don't feel great, but I am certain it's not coronavirus at least. A New York county health department released this:
All the same, I'm keeping my hands in my pockets the whole time I'm outside the house. It may be difficult to drive that way, but my health is worth it.
Friday, March 6, 2020
Alternate world products.
When I was in the hospital, and checked into my room (so to speak), I was given a little courtesy bowl full of things to help keep up appearances. Soap, toothpaste, toothbrush, antiperspirant, etc., all branded with names you never heard of, like they dropped in from an alternate world. Yet I was very pleased by this. I had heard from an unlucky traveler who was injured abroad that in Romania the hospitals don't even feed you; if you want to eat, your family has to bring you food. (Since she was traveling alone, this put her in a sticky situation, as you might guess.)
I wasn't allowed to shower, with my back in such awful shape, but I definitely used that toothpaste and brush. And I have to tell you, it was the second nastiest toothpaste I ever tried.
Freshmint was the "brand," and I use "scare quotes" because I doubt it ever finds its way onto American shelves. I think it is sold particularly for hospitals and other institutions, and the little tubes can be purchased online in bulk. The label said it was made in India. Perhaps our Indian friends have different preferences in toothpaste flavor. This tasted like mint-flavored cardboard. But it was much better than nothing, and better by far than the awful Burt's Bees crap I paid money for.
The little soap I took home; there were soap dispensers at the bathroom sink, so I never used it.
Ditto the antiperspirant; I figured it would be thrown away if I didn't take it, so why not? A memento of my little sojourn.
How do they smell? Like the hospital. That is, I think all the ambulatory patients, and probably half the staff, use this stuff for the same reason I took it -- otherwise it would go to waste. So it makes sense that the whole place would smell like this and not, say, Dial or Axe. It's a pleasant enough scent and not overpowering, like baby powder. Oddly enough, the Freshscent products seem to be made in the USA, although the branding is quite similar to the toothpaste. There are questions about the supply chain that can only be answered by distributor New World Imports, and I haven't time to pester them right now.
Finally, there was the shampoo, or shall I say baby shampoo and body wash, which tells us what we ought to know about shampoo -- that it too is soap:
MedSpa does not come to us from NWI, but rather is a product of Medline, the company that makes Curad bandages and plenty of other medical supplies. This made-in-the-USA shampoo/soap smells pretty good too, a sort of generic soapiness, like a slightly stronger bubble-wand soap. It's just OK, but it got me clean, and after four days and change without a shower that's the key to quality, you ask me.
So that's my experience with hospital loot. I never opted for a pair of the grippy socks, nor did I try to take the charming split-back gown home. I never get invited to those red-carpet events anyway.
I wasn't allowed to shower, with my back in such awful shape, but I definitely used that toothpaste and brush. And I have to tell you, it was the second nastiest toothpaste I ever tried.
Freshmint was the "brand," and I use "scare quotes" because I doubt it ever finds its way onto American shelves. I think it is sold particularly for hospitals and other institutions, and the little tubes can be purchased online in bulk. The label said it was made in India. Perhaps our Indian friends have different preferences in toothpaste flavor. This tasted like mint-flavored cardboard. But it was much better than nothing, and better by far than the awful Burt's Bees crap I paid money for.
The little soap I took home; there were soap dispensers at the bathroom sink, so I never used it.
 |
| "Freshscent" |
Ditto the antiperspirant; I figured it would be thrown away if I didn't take it, so why not? A memento of my little sojourn.
How do they smell? Like the hospital. That is, I think all the ambulatory patients, and probably half the staff, use this stuff for the same reason I took it -- otherwise it would go to waste. So it makes sense that the whole place would smell like this and not, say, Dial or Axe. It's a pleasant enough scent and not overpowering, like baby powder. Oddly enough, the Freshscent products seem to be made in the USA, although the branding is quite similar to the toothpaste. There are questions about the supply chain that can only be answered by distributor New World Imports, and I haven't time to pester them right now.
Finally, there was the shampoo, or shall I say baby shampoo and body wash, which tells us what we ought to know about shampoo -- that it too is soap:
MedSpa does not come to us from NWI, but rather is a product of Medline, the company that makes Curad bandages and plenty of other medical supplies. This made-in-the-USA shampoo/soap smells pretty good too, a sort of generic soapiness, like a slightly stronger bubble-wand soap. It's just OK, but it got me clean, and after four days and change without a shower that's the key to quality, you ask me.
So that's my experience with hospital loot. I never opted for a pair of the grippy socks, nor did I try to take the charming split-back gown home. I never get invited to those red-carpet events anyway.
Thursday, March 5, 2020
Penelope and Odysseus.
Penelope: So where have you been?
Odysseus: Oh, such a long and strange tale it is to tell, my dearest wife, my --
P: You said you'd be right back.
O: Well, Achilles said the Trojans would be a pushover, and --
P: YOU WERE GONE FOR TWENTY YEARS!
O: Now, now, my pet, I never said I was just going to the corner to get a quart of milk.
P: No, you said you had a thing with the boys and would nip out to get Helen back and --
O: It got complicated. The fighting went on and on. And that was just on our side. Achilles flounced off like a drama queen. Gods got involved... I even had to build this big wooden horse, you see, because after Achilles killed Hector the Trojans still wouldn't give up, so --
P: Horse? Wooden horse? You vanish for two decades and you want to talk about wooden horses? What kind, rocking horses? This is no time for toys.
O: Honey, please! You know I didn't want to go in the first place. I tried to get a Section 8 deferral but they didn't buy it.
P: You know something, Oddy? Everyone else came back ten years ago. Neoptolemus has been back all that time. Diaphorus's wife, Bernice, she said she's sick of him hanging around. But me, I get the only husband who can't leave a siege and find his way home. I just know you refused to ask for directions. AS USUAL.
O: It wasn't my fault, I swear! It was the stupid crew! We had this big windbag --
P: Yeah, I know about Ajax.
O: No, I mean a literal bag of winds, and my stupid crew opened it up and we shot off all over the place.
P: Smartest man in Greece and he hires morons for a crew.
O: Yeah, well. They're all dead now.
P: That's supposed to make me feel better? So some winds blew you around, so what? The Mediterranean isn't that big, you know.
O: Oh, sweetie pie, you can hardly believe all the places we had to go. We were brutalized by the Laestrygonians, trapped by a Cyclops, threatened by Sirens, drugged by some damn hippie Lotus-Eaters, captured by Circe...
P: CIRCE? That witch is the biggest floozy in the ancient world! Were you canoodling with her, you creep?
O: Well, n... that is, I mean to say... uh... Can I take the Fifth?
P: Next thing you'll tell me you were getting all cuddly with Calypso!
O: Um.
P: You didn't!
O: Oh, and we had to sail between Scylla and Charybdis!
P: Who are they, more babes?
O: Not, uh, anymore. They're kind of the biggest metaphor in the ocean. Look, I know all those suitors were giving you a hard time, but I really did get home as fast as I could. And didn't Telemachus and I take care of business? We slaughtered every single one!
P: It was nice to see you two having fun together.
O: See? Me and my boy!
P: You one Hades of a mess for me, though.
O: Yeah, sorry.
P: You never built Telemachus a rocking horse.
O: I know, I know... I was an absentee dad. Missed his whole childhood. But it was Achilles's fault. And we didn't beat Troy with a rocking horse. Baby, listen...
P: Don't "baby" me, hubby, I'm sick of your stories. You're back, that's fine. But I've been running the show in Ithaca for twenty years and I don't need you sticking your nose in, get it? You can sit back and king it up if you want, but stay on your side of the palace. And don't go sailing anywhere.
O: Yes, yes, I understand, Penelope. (sighs) If you need me, I'll be in the study. Al Tennyson is due at noon for an interview.
P: You'd better not embarrass me!
O: Yeah, yeah...
P: And I don't want you talking to that Jimmy Joyce character!
O: That nut? I hear he eats lotus.
Odysseus: Oh, such a long and strange tale it is to tell, my dearest wife, my --
P: You said you'd be right back.
O: Well, Achilles said the Trojans would be a pushover, and --
P: YOU WERE GONE FOR TWENTY YEARS!
O: Now, now, my pet, I never said I was just going to the corner to get a quart of milk.
P: No, you said you had a thing with the boys and would nip out to get Helen back and --
O: It got complicated. The fighting went on and on. And that was just on our side. Achilles flounced off like a drama queen. Gods got involved... I even had to build this big wooden horse, you see, because after Achilles killed Hector the Trojans still wouldn't give up, so --
P: Horse? Wooden horse? You vanish for two decades and you want to talk about wooden horses? What kind, rocking horses? This is no time for toys.
O: Honey, please! You know I didn't want to go in the first place. I tried to get a Section 8 deferral but they didn't buy it.
P: You know something, Oddy? Everyone else came back ten years ago. Neoptolemus has been back all that time. Diaphorus's wife, Bernice, she said she's sick of him hanging around. But me, I get the only husband who can't leave a siege and find his way home. I just know you refused to ask for directions. AS USUAL.
O: It wasn't my fault, I swear! It was the stupid crew! We had this big windbag --
P: Yeah, I know about Ajax.
O: No, I mean a literal bag of winds, and my stupid crew opened it up and we shot off all over the place.
P: Smartest man in Greece and he hires morons for a crew.
O: Yeah, well. They're all dead now.
P: That's supposed to make me feel better? So some winds blew you around, so what? The Mediterranean isn't that big, you know.
O: Oh, sweetie pie, you can hardly believe all the places we had to go. We were brutalized by the Laestrygonians, trapped by a Cyclops, threatened by Sirens, drugged by some damn hippie Lotus-Eaters, captured by Circe...
P: CIRCE? That witch is the biggest floozy in the ancient world! Were you canoodling with her, you creep?
O: Well, n... that is, I mean to say... uh... Can I take the Fifth?
P: Next thing you'll tell me you were getting all cuddly with Calypso!
O: Um.
P: You didn't!
O: Oh, and we had to sail between Scylla and Charybdis!
P: Who are they, more babes?
O: Not, uh, anymore. They're kind of the biggest metaphor in the ocean. Look, I know all those suitors were giving you a hard time, but I really did get home as fast as I could. And didn't Telemachus and I take care of business? We slaughtered every single one!
P: It was nice to see you two having fun together.
O: See? Me and my boy!
P: You one Hades of a mess for me, though.
O: Yeah, sorry.
P: You never built Telemachus a rocking horse.
O: I know, I know... I was an absentee dad. Missed his whole childhood. But it was Achilles's fault. And we didn't beat Troy with a rocking horse. Baby, listen...
P: Don't "baby" me, hubby, I'm sick of your stories. You're back, that's fine. But I've been running the show in Ithaca for twenty years and I don't need you sticking your nose in, get it? You can sit back and king it up if you want, but stay on your side of the palace. And don't go sailing anywhere.
O: Yes, yes, I understand, Penelope. (sighs) If you need me, I'll be in the study. Al Tennyson is due at noon for an interview.
P: You'd better not embarrass me!
O: Yeah, yeah...
P: And I don't want you talking to that Jimmy Joyce character!
O: That nut? I hear he eats lotus.
Wednesday, March 4, 2020
Fred's Book Club: Wizard and Weirdstone.
Happy Wednesday, and welcome to another episode of our Humpback Writers, the book club named after Hump Day, not after actual protrusions. None need apply.
Today we look at a children's book that the author says is not a children's book, a fantasy novel by Cheshire's favorite son, author and lover of archaeology Alan Garner. Of course I am referring to his first book, The Weirdstone of Brisingamen.
"For the world might still be saved if a band of warriors, pure in heart, and brave, could defy him in his hour and compel him to sink once more into the Abyss. Their strength would be not in numbers, but in purity and valour. And so was devised the following plan. The king chose the worthiest of knights, and went with them to Fundindelve, the ancient dwarf-halls, where they were put into enchanted sleep.... The heart of the magic was sealed within Firefrost, the weirdstone of Brisingamen, and it and the warriors became my charge."
So says the wizard Cadellin, as he and his warriors secretly await the return of the Nastrond, the Great Spirit of Darkness. But there is one problem: Firefrost, the weirdstone, has been stolen, and without it the sleeping warriors will wake too soon, and when Nastrond returns none can oppose him, for he has corrupted the world.
Susan and Colin are twins, staying in Cheshire, and they come into possession of the stone -- which makes them able to help Cadellin, but also makes them the target of the forces of evil, unless the stone is returned to Fundindelve. And that quickly becomes a task of enormous difficulty.
The Weirdstone of Brisingamen, first published in 1960, is a brisk and thrilling adventure. Although it is not long, and its heroes are children, Garner has said that he never intended this or his other books to be children's books. While the age of the heroes is important to the story, and younger readers can certainly enjoy it, there's no writing down to the kids here. Things definitely feel more Brothers Grimm than Brothers Krofft in this adventure.
A Reader's Guide to Fantasy described this book and its sequel, The Moon of Gomrath, as "powerful amalgamations of Norse legend, Welsh mythology, and British folklore, set in Adderly, Garner's home town in Cheshire." It goes on to say that "The writing in these two is rich and full of atmosphere and detail, and there are scenes which can make the reader shudder with claustrophobia, or chill in awe." I couldn't agree more.
I read The Weirdstone years ago when my battered copy of the above paperback edition was published in the United States. I was a regular reader of Isaac Asimov's Science Fiction Magazine at the time, and the reviewer announced the new edition of this and three other Garner books -- The Moon of Gomrath, and standalone stories Elidor and the highly praised The Owl Service. He particularly noted that the art on these paperbacks by Laurence Schwinger (who is still working!) is gorgeous, frameable fantasy covers for fantasy illustration fans.
I've been hoping for months to cover this book for Fred's Book Club, but it'd been a long while since I read it and I wanted to read it again. I started it, but time demands got me only got about a quarter of the way in. It's only 198 pages in my edition, but I just had not had the time. Well, thanks to my recent hospital stay, and my wife who scooped it up for me from the nightstand, I finished it in my hospital bed. What a joy it was! What a break from my own concerns. The book was every bit as exciting as I remembered.
Maybe it's even too exciting! Children's book or not, children can certainly enjoy it, but there's none of the winking-at-evil that one finds so often in books and films for middle-grade kids. These bad guys mean business:
As the review I quoted above indicates, these book may be too much for the claustrophobic -- I've never read anything quite so terrible in that manner as the children's flight with friendly dwarves through ancient elvish mines, far below the earth, in darkness -- mines made by creatures smaller than men, mines crushed smaller in the intervening centuries:
As a youngster reading these I was thrilled by the writer's means of telling the story, with short, powerful descriptions and real assessment of the dangers that the heroes faced. Forget any Disney movie silliness -- this is an adventure in a serious manner, one that in real life no one would ever want to experience. I think these characters would have had PTSD something awful.
In fact, years later, in 2012, Garner published a third book, Boneland, featuring the adult Colin. This did not get the play that the first two did, especially not in the States, but I have ordered a copy online. Will Colin be suffering from the events of the past? He seems to have no memory of anything that happened before his teen years, and his sister is missing, so maybe....
If Garner has one writing habit that irks me, is that his books all come to an end suddenly. There's no wrap-up, not a moment for someone to say "Whew! That was a close one!" or "Hurray!" or "Nooo!" or anything like it. A battle is over or an escape effected or something and THE END. I'm not one for long farewells in books, but I do like a moment to take a breath before the closing credits. But, in Garner's honor, I think I'll just stop this book club entry right here.
Today we look at a children's book that the author says is not a children's book, a fantasy novel by Cheshire's favorite son, author and lover of archaeology Alan Garner. Of course I am referring to his first book, The Weirdstone of Brisingamen.
"For the world might still be saved if a band of warriors, pure in heart, and brave, could defy him in his hour and compel him to sink once more into the Abyss. Their strength would be not in numbers, but in purity and valour. And so was devised the following plan. The king chose the worthiest of knights, and went with them to Fundindelve, the ancient dwarf-halls, where they were put into enchanted sleep.... The heart of the magic was sealed within Firefrost, the weirdstone of Brisingamen, and it and the warriors became my charge."
So says the wizard Cadellin, as he and his warriors secretly await the return of the Nastrond, the Great Spirit of Darkness. But there is one problem: Firefrost, the weirdstone, has been stolen, and without it the sleeping warriors will wake too soon, and when Nastrond returns none can oppose him, for he has corrupted the world.
Susan and Colin are twins, staying in Cheshire, and they come into possession of the stone -- which makes them able to help Cadellin, but also makes them the target of the forces of evil, unless the stone is returned to Fundindelve. And that quickly becomes a task of enormous difficulty.
The Weirdstone of Brisingamen, first published in 1960, is a brisk and thrilling adventure. Although it is not long, and its heroes are children, Garner has said that he never intended this or his other books to be children's books. While the age of the heroes is important to the story, and younger readers can certainly enjoy it, there's no writing down to the kids here. Things definitely feel more Brothers Grimm than Brothers Krofft in this adventure.
A Reader's Guide to Fantasy described this book and its sequel, The Moon of Gomrath, as "powerful amalgamations of Norse legend, Welsh mythology, and British folklore, set in Adderly, Garner's home town in Cheshire." It goes on to say that "The writing in these two is rich and full of atmosphere and detail, and there are scenes which can make the reader shudder with claustrophobia, or chill in awe." I couldn't agree more.
I read The Weirdstone years ago when my battered copy of the above paperback edition was published in the United States. I was a regular reader of Isaac Asimov's Science Fiction Magazine at the time, and the reviewer announced the new edition of this and three other Garner books -- The Moon of Gomrath, and standalone stories Elidor and the highly praised The Owl Service. He particularly noted that the art on these paperbacks by Laurence Schwinger (who is still working!) is gorgeous, frameable fantasy covers for fantasy illustration fans.
I've been hoping for months to cover this book for Fred's Book Club, but it'd been a long while since I read it and I wanted to read it again. I started it, but time demands got me only got about a quarter of the way in. It's only 198 pages in my edition, but I just had not had the time. Well, thanks to my recent hospital stay, and my wife who scooped it up for me from the nightstand, I finished it in my hospital bed. What a joy it was! What a break from my own concerns. The book was every bit as exciting as I remembered.
Maybe it's even too exciting! Children's book or not, children can certainly enjoy it, but there's none of the winking-at-evil that one finds so often in books and films for middle-grade kids. These bad guys mean business:
As if in some dark dream, Colin and Susan strained to tear themselves free, but they were held like wasps in honey.It gets worse.
Slowly the figure rose from its seat and came towards them. Of human shape it was, but like no mortal man, for it stood near eight feet high, and was covered from head to foot in a loose habit, dank green, and ill concealing the terrible thinness and spider strength of the body beneath. A deep cowl hid the face, skin mittens were on the wasted hands, and the air was laden with the reek of foul waters.
As the review I quoted above indicates, these book may be too much for the claustrophobic -- I've never read anything quite so terrible in that manner as the children's flight with friendly dwarves through ancient elvish mines, far below the earth, in darkness -- mines made by creatures smaller than men, mines crushed smaller in the intervening centuries:
Colin screwed himself round in the tunnel. It was really not possible, but desperation tipped the scales; and once he was on his stomach, his knees bending with the tunnel, there was just enough play for Durathror to force Colin's legs around the angle, and from then on Colin was better off than any of the others, because they were now lying on their backs, and in that position movement was even more exhausting and unpleasant.And then the tunnel dips, and the way forward is filled with water. How far does the water go? Too far to hold their breath? With the twisting tunnel, the heroes crawling along like earthworms, there is no turning back if it is too far. In fact, there's really no turning back already.
As a youngster reading these I was thrilled by the writer's means of telling the story, with short, powerful descriptions and real assessment of the dangers that the heroes faced. Forget any Disney movie silliness -- this is an adventure in a serious manner, one that in real life no one would ever want to experience. I think these characters would have had PTSD something awful.
In fact, years later, in 2012, Garner published a third book, Boneland, featuring the adult Colin. This did not get the play that the first two did, especially not in the States, but I have ordered a copy online. Will Colin be suffering from the events of the past? He seems to have no memory of anything that happened before his teen years, and his sister is missing, so maybe....
If Garner has one writing habit that irks me, is that his books all come to an end suddenly. There's no wrap-up, not a moment for someone to say "Whew! That was a close one!" or "Hurray!" or "Nooo!" or anything like it. A battle is over or an escape effected or something and THE END. I'm not one for long farewells in books, but I do like a moment to take a breath before the closing credits. But, in Garner's honor, I think I'll just stop this book club entry right here.
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