"Whither Now, Friend?"

Two old clay pieces,
searching for the right setting,
for the proper game.
They seem slightly lost to me.  To you?

Lindholm's "Wizard of the Pigeons"

Megan Lindholm's 1984 novel Wizard of the Pigeons is a novel that combines street grit and magical realism, urban fantasy and PTSD, with all the respect, wonder, and empathy in the world.

Whiskey With Ice; Leaping From Zeus

RANDOM THOUGHTS OF THE DAY
____________________________

"No, I still drink whiskey with ice."

My response when the dental hygienist asked if my teeth were sensitive to cold.

____________________________

Influence can be tricky to trace.  Was I headed in that direction already or did so-&-so turn my steps that way?

I tend to mythologize myself as having leapt full-bodied from the head of Zeus, but that's hardly likely.

Giving Voice To John Keats

Keats! Yesterday I had planned to lecture on John Keats and his poetry,
reading aloud the following poems
in full in the following order:

"To One Who Has Been Long In City Pent" (sonnet)
"On First Looking Into Chapman's Homer" (sonnet)
"La Belle Dame Sans Merci" (ballad)
"Ode on Melancholy" (ode)
"Ode to a Nightingale" (ode)
and
"The Eve of St. Agnes" (narrative verse poem, gothic trappings).

And in the 50 minutes available, well, I almost made it.  I lost a little time when I decided to chart the frame narration of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, our next book, but everything takes a bit longer than I tend to expect.  I had to summarize what I wanted to walk through with "The Eve of St. Agnes"--though I wish I'd had the time to read that long tale aloud.  That's what the poem deserves.

Next time.

Blue: On Point

(A good day out off Pacific Grove.
2/4/2012.)

Recommended: An Inspector Richard Jury Mystery

The second in the series from Martha Grimes.

The Old Fox Deceiv'd's Arnold is probably my favorite character -- next to Richard Jury himself, of course -- in the entire series.

Byron: "This Odd Labyrinth"

I won’t describe—that is, if I can help
    Description; and I won’t reflect—that is,
If I can stave off thought, which, as a whelp
    Clings to its teat, sticks to me through the abyss
Of this odd labyrinth; or as the kelp
    Holds by the rock; or as a lover’s kiss
Drains its first draught of lips: --but, as I said,
I won’t philosophize, and will be read.

--Lord Byron
Don Juan: Canto X, #28

Recommended Reading: An Inspector Alan Grant Mystery

The beasts that talk,
The streams that stand,
The stones that walk,
The singing sand,
. . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . .
That guard the way
To Paradise
--Compartment 7B (the corpse)

(from the novel)

Reprise: Blue Fish in Clay