Superfluous Verbiage

I like words, and having an interesting vocabulary means you can be more precise in communications with others; or at least it would make communication clearer and more precise if I didn’t have to stop and define half the things I say.  Sometimes it’s as simple as “yes, I did really just use ‘fortnightly’ in conversation.  No, it’s not ‘adorable’, it’s a perfectly normal word.” and other times it’s a bit more complex “Oh no, ‘zeks’ is totally legit to use on words with friends, I mean, what other word would you use for people confined to a forced labor camp in the U.S.S.R.?”  Seriously, look it up, real word.  I know this because sometimes I read the dictionary.  I love the dictionary, when I look things up (in print or online) I get to read all the words around the one I meant to look up as well.  Most of the time I don’t get to use these words, “clitic” doesn’t come up in natural conversation ever—and it’s derivatives “proclitic” and “enclitic” can really only be used in very specific grammar conversations.  Other times, however, I not only get to use the word in everyday conversation, but I can even incorporate it into a haiku-tweet!

This past month I have working on getting “obganiate” into casual conversation.  I was surprised how often opportunities presented themselves, not only were people obganiating, but it was entirely appropriate for me to discuss it (I was not the recipient of the obganiation therefore I could discuss it without becoming a nag myself).  It didn’t even take much prodding to get my hiking buddy to work it into her conversation as well!  That’s how you know you’ve succeeded, when you are no longer the only one in the conversation using the nearly obsolete word you stumbled upon while reading the dictionary.    

I’m beginning to think this might cause issues with some of my upcoming group work in a class.  Somewhere in the reading there was a suggestion we should strive to avoid our sesquipedalian tendencies.  Only the reading said it in many, many more words.  And that’s the problem: if I avoid superfluous verbiage I make myself incomprehensible, but if I don’t I can’t say a damn thing in just a few short double spaced pages.

Summer Reading

Soon I will begin volunteering at Multnomah County Library with the Summer Reading Program.  I love summer reading programs, which is why I participate in Lake Oswego’s Lazinfest every year.  In one of my classes last term we talked about reading bills of rights and things and I shared the Lazinfest Bill of Rights (below) which prompted a discussion on how there are all sorts of bills of rights out there but nothing about responsibilities.  So, naturally, I created a (boringly named) Reader’s Responsibilities list and opened it up to my classmates to add to/comment on.  I still feel like it needs work, but one classmate already said it should be posted in libraries “everywhere” so I guess it’s in a sharable state, and maybe a list like this should always be a work in progress.

Reading Responsibilities List

• You have the responsibility not to judge others based on their reading taste
• You have the responsibility to treat library books and other materials with respect so others can read/use them after you
• You have the responsibility to return materials to the library in a timely fashion so others can enjoy them as well
• You have a responsibility to respect the space of the library both in your own use of it and how your use affects others
• You have the responsibility to not give away the ending to anyone who hasn’t read it yet (unless they ask)
• You have the responsibility to respect other readers opinions, even if you think they are wrong
• You have a responsibility to be fair to authors (before bashing a book you didn’t like think about if the book really was a bad story or poorly written, or if maybe it just wasn’t the right book for you)

YOUR LAZINFEST READING BILL OF RIGHTS

• You have the right never to apologize for your reading tastes.

• You have the right to read anything you want.

• You have the right to read anywhere you want... in the bathtub, in the car, in the grocery store, under the porch, or while walking the dog.

• You have the right to read in bed. Under the covers. With a flashlight.

• You have the right to carry books in your baggage at all times.

• You have the right to read in exotic settings.

• You have the right to move your lips when you read.

• You have the right to read the good parts out loud to your nearest and dearest.

• You have the right to refuse to read the good parts out loud to your nearest and dearest.

• You have the right to read and eat at the same time. (This right, however, does not include the right to use food as a bookmark when you are reading library books. Even if it's the very best potato salad.)

• You have the right to read naked.

• You have the right to read as many books as you want at the same time.

• You have the right to throw any book on the floor and jump up and down on it (provided that you paid for it first).

• You have the right to ignore the critics at the New York Review of Books.

• More importantly, you have the right to ignore the critics in your immediate family.

• You have the right to stop reading a book whenever you decide it's not worth the effort, or that you simply don't like it.

• You have the right to refuse to read any book anyone else picks out for you. Even if it's a birthday present. (This is associated with your right to refuse to wear any necktie or perfume you receive as a gift.)

• You have the right to skip all the boring parts.

• You have the right to read the last chapter first.

• You have the right to read the last chapter first and then put the book back on the shelf.

• You have the right to refuse to read any book where you don't like the picture of the author.

FINALLY, and most important:

• If you do not have a book of your own, your tax dollars will ensure that that you have access to one through your local public library.

James Munkers Super Freak by Lindsey Little

It’s always exciting when a friend gets a book published; it’s even more exciting when the book is actually really good.  Sometimes a friend gives you something to read and all you can say “well, ahhhhh...I really liked that bit right at the end!” (you know, that bit where the drivel finally stopped).  But then sometimes a friend gives you something to read and it’s rivetingly-un-put-downably-can’t-wait-for-the-sequel good.  Happily, the latter was the case with my good friend’s soon to be published book, James Munkers Super Freak, and all I can say is thank Bragi for that!  

I got to read about James last November when I was visiting my lovely friends for their wedding in Tasmania.  I’d been pestering James’s author for quite some time to let me read the book—after all, I worked in children’s books for a long time so I could give a professional opinion.  Finally she relented and handed over her computer: all it took was a flight to rural Australia, a not-exactly-hostile honeymoon takeover (with help from other friends!), and couple demands that bordered on hysterical.  Easy peasy.  

Within 24 hours I’d read James 1½ times.  I eventually had to stop reading and be “social” with my friends.  I’d been hearing about this book and about James for so long long I was worried that finally reading it would be a letdown after all the anticipation.  But—O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!—all that waiting and pestering was worth it!  James is funny, and smart, and engaging, and perhaps just a bit mad, exactly as a 15 year old reluctant hero should be.  The writing is excellent (I know I’m biased, but I’m also a bit of an expert in the field so I think my opinion can be trusted), and James’s voice is just so engaging I wish we could have been friends when I was in high school.  I read the whole thing in one day, I wanted to really savor it but once I started it several hours passed very quickly and I’d suddenly run out of story to read.  I guess I shall just have to savor it the next time.

While I can’t guarantee that everyone’s first reading of James will be as memorable as mine, I should note that after the first read through two whales appeared and started frolicking right in front of our rental and if that’s not magical I just don’t know what is.  Alas, there were no more whales while I was reading it though again, but I can’t really blame James I suppose, he did have rather a lot to do in the story without breaking through from the world of fiction to fetch me more whales.  

Recommended: emphatically 
Published by IP Kidz
 

Asynchronous Frustration

Being a student again is...weird.  I have to participate in discussions, which is really really hard.  Normally when I am in school, I do the reading, go to class, and am relatively quiet.  It’s not that I don’t participate or prepare, it’s just that I’ve just never been one of those students who always has to be at the centre of every week’s discussion.  If I have something to add that isn’t just reiterating everyone else I will add it, otherwise I am probably going to pretty much stay quiet.  I don’t really like discussions where everyone just says the same things over and over.  I think that’s why this whole online discussion thing is so damn hard; I, and everyone else is my class, types out our discussion contributions before sending them off into the void of the internet to wait until someone deigns to read and respond.  It feels as though everyone is screaming their opinions at everyone else without listening to most of what is being said.  When I read the “responses” to posts I’ve made most of the time they aren’t really responding to what I’m saying, and when they do respond there is little more than “I agree!”.  That’s not to say I’m not totally guiltless in this, part of our grade is based on contributing to discussions so I’ve been just as guilty as everyone else of posting not to further discussion but to just get something out there for the week.  And then of course there is the fact it’s all asynchronous, nothing flows because it could be hours or days between the initial post and the response.  I’m trying to get used to it, and I try to make sure I respond (really respond, not just saying “I agree!” or hitting “reply” and saying something that has nothing to do with the post to which I am ostensibly replying) to at least one post a week, but sometimes it is just too hard to add to the noise knowing that whatever I say is just going to be drowned out by everyone else trying to make sure they meet the participation requirement.  It’s a frustrating system, metaphorically screaming my opinions into the silence and hoping to get an answer from someone in the void, but at least if my best ideas about the reading come to me in the middle of the night I don’t have to try and remember them until the next time the class meets!

Shelf Space

I have a problem.  The first step towards solving the problem is recognizing and acknowledging it right?  So I say again, I have a problem.  I went to have a quick tidy of my room this morning—tidying my room is a favorite activity when I have looming essay deadlines—and I realized I have a few books to integrate onto my shelves.  By “a few” I mean a stack taller than I am (at 5’3” it’s not all that hard to have a stack of books taller than I am).  Up until yesterday the stack was of a reasonable height of just under 5 feet tall, but then I went to the Central Library where they have the Friends of the Library store, which had some books I’ve been wanting for a very long time (real long time as in years, not fake long time as in days) and supporting the library is good thing right?  So this morning I looked at all the books that need to get on the shelves and all the shelf space I have left and realized things just can’t go on like this.  I might not get everything on the shelves this time: I HAVE A PROBLEM.  And to make matters more complicated another book just arrive; a proof from Simon & Schuster that was a total surprise.  I didn’t request it on Goodreads as far as I know, unless I’ve started entering free book giveaways in my sleep.

Now, the obvious solution (I hear you say) is to have someone give me the library from Beauty and the Beast because it’s not really possible to build more shelves in my tiny room that already has wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.  I can’t exactly expand out into common areas either, what if someone borrowed a book without telling me and then put it back in the wrong place?  It could mess up the whole system and be lost for weeks.  Sadly, I don’t think anyone is planning to buy me the Beauty and Beast library any time soon (though I do have a birthday coming up!) and a personal library of that scale is not really practical for city living, so I think the most reasonable solution here is stacks.  Wouldn’t it be great to install a trapdoor in the bottom of my closet leading to an underground labyrinth of stacks?  The only foreseeable problem with that plan is, naturally, finding a minotaur.

Acting Out (of Character)

We had a few inches of dry powdery snow this past weekend and while most of the country wouldn’t be snowed in, here in the PNW we know that powdery snow is going to compact into a solid couple inches of ice once the freezing rain hits, so we all pretty much sheltered in place and had a nice long panic.  I did, however, with my parents brave the weather to walk to my grandmother’s house for tea.  All was fine and dandy until someone brought up Sherlock Holmes.  This is always a topic that makes grandmama sigh deeply, clasp her hands, and shake her head.  It is not, as one might think, because she dislikes Sherlock but rather because she likes him so much in his original form that she believes he should be “allowed to die” rather than be re-imagined by and for modern audiences.  While this wasn’t some big new revelation it was the most Scrooge like proclamation I’ve heard in regards to the great SH, and the first death wish.  It always bothers me when she (or anyone) gets so upset about re-imagining characters like Sherlock Homes.  I mean, in most modern adaptations he’s still a smart, socially awkward drug addict; what’s the problem?

Most of the time I don’t have a problem with reworkings stories.  Admittedly my favorite film adaptations of books often have at least some input from the author (Princess Bride, Stardust) but I don’t necessarily think author input is a requirement of a good movie adaptation.  I really love retellings/reworking of fairy tales because it is interesting to see how different people take the same story and re-imagine it for a new setting or different audience, it’s great and exciting, and keeps old stories new and fresh.  In fact I think there has only ever been one I’ve really taken issue with: the incredibly stupid movie “version” of Howl’s Moving Castle.  I think it’s because so much was changed in the stupid movie version it was barely recognizable as the same story.  Also, it was a stupid movie.

Judging People by their Book Covers

With the start of class this past week for everyone has been doing the rounds of “introduce yourself and tell us what book you are reading”.  I suppose it is quite natural given the bookish nature of the program that the question about what any one of us is reading at any given moment should come up, and it is fascinating to read people’s answers.  Having worked in children’s books for quite some time I’m not all that surprised by how many people admit they are reading children/YA books; I am surprise at how many of these YA loving book people are discovering Harry Potter for the first time.  I am also shocked by how many people admit they “aren’t really reading anything at the moment” (okay, maybe two people, but still, that’s a lot).  I actually don’t know how to react to that, people like that just aren’t in my realm of experience.  I start to panic if I’m only reading one book, usually I have at least two or three going so I can switch around based on my mood.  I’m more likely to max out a library card (the most I’ve ever maxed out at one time was three!) than I am to max out my only credit card—which has an astonishingly low limit, I couldn’t even use it to buy my plane ticket to Tasmania the limit is so low (why would I need a higher one? it’s only for emergencies).  I don’t understand people who “aren’t really reading anything at the moment”.  I’m not sure I trust them, seems shifty.  

The exciting thing about getting to pry into all my new classmate’s reading lists is that I unabashedly judge people by what they are reading (or not, if you aren’t reading anything, I just back away slowly).  My judgements usually consist of something along the lines of “OH MY GOD WE READ ALL THE SAME BOOKS!  WE SHOULD BE BEST FRIENDS!” or “Twilight? ewww!  Are you reading that ironically or do you really like sparkly vampires?”.  And the flip side is,  I fully expect people are judging me by what I’m reading.  I assume other people look at what I’m reading on the train or the airplane or in the coffee shop and judge me, just a little, by my book.  I take it for granted people think “Oh my god, she’s reading that? ewww!” or “hey, I loved that book! she must be cool”.  But even more than judging people by what they are reading I judge them by what they say about what they’re reading.  The thing that get’s the most respect from me (even if you are choosing to read A Clockwork Orange for Children*) is having an opinion about the book: good, bad, mediocre, I don’t care as long as you’re forming some sort of judgement about whatever you’re reading.    

I very clearly remember a conversation from several years ago with a friend of a friend about what he was reading at the time.  I’d gone to a pub to see my friend’s band play and was introduced to this guy whose name I have since forgotten who was reading a book while waiting for the band to set up.  The conversation went like this:

Me: What are you reading?

The Pretentious Git: Oh, you know, Catcher in the Rye, by Salinger.

Me (not judging yet): Oh, neat.  Are you liking it?

TPG (looking at me like I’m possibly stupid): Uhh, it’s Salinger.

Me (starting to judge a little but trying to be nice): Ok, have you read it before?  What do you like about it?  

TPG (looking at me like I’ve just admitted to enjoying eviscerating kittens): Well, it’s SALLLLINGERRRR.

At this point he stopped talking to me, turned around and kept reading.  I don’t think he ever actually turned the page and the book was angled a bit too high up for comfortable reading, but just the right way for everyone in pub to see what book he had.  Also, at this point, I got pretty judgemental and promptly renamed him The Pretentious Git.  

See, the problem wasn’t that he was reading Salinger it was that he couldn’t articulate what he thought about it (I still don’t know if he liked it, but I know he knows who wrote it).  I have far more respect for someone reading Fifty Shades of Grey (even though the writing is poor and there are much better books out there if you’re into that kind of thing) if they can give me a reason for reading it beyond projecting some persona to world.  TPG was clearly reading SALLLLINGERRRR because, in his mind, it presented whatever image he wanted to present; unfortunately for his carefully constructed image of himself, his inability to even tell me whether or not he was enjoying the book presented an much more asinine persona than he probably intended.

*actual title of a manuscript I received while interning in the editorial department at a publisher.  Yes, it was exactly what it sounds like.

Once More With Feeling

I started re-reading The Princess Bride this week.  I love re-reading books: I always pick up on little details I’d forgotten, or nuances I hadn’t picked up before.  Sometimes I realize I’d forgotten major details and it is like reading a whole new book!  I know my mom experiences the whole new book phenomenon almost every time she re-reads something because she can’t remember a story once she’s finished.  It is very frustrating to talk to her about what she’s reading because once she’s put the book down she has no idea.  Just this weekend we were at Nana’s for dinner and when mom announced she’d finally finished her book, she wasn’t able to tell dad anything about how it ended; less than twenty four hours after finishing she’d completely forgotten the plot!  She always ends up accidentally re-reading books because she can’t remember if she knows the story.

On the other end of the spectrum I have a very good friend who never re-reads books; he buys books, reads them once, then keeps them like trophies (sometimes he buys books he’s already read but didn’t own just to have the trophy).  It’s odd and it’s more than slightly distressing; maybe it’s because he’s Dutch.  It is one of the few issues we just can’t come to any sort of agreement on.  Not re-reading a single book that you didn’t particularly care for is fine, not re-reading any book ever as a policy is downright weird.  I don’t plan re-read every book I’ve ever read, reading new books is exciting too.  Most of what I read are new-to-me books, but I just can’t understand people who won’t read a book again, it’s like eating mac and cheese and saying “well, that was good, but as a matter of policy I’ll never eat it again”.

Back to The Princess Bride, I’d forgotten how much I love this book!  I suppose I should thank my Tasmania friends, since they had someone do a reading from this book at their wedding.  I’d been thinking I really should re-read it, but listening some random man dressed as Miracle Max read from it in a tent in a paddock in Tasmania really brought home just how much I need to re-read it now.  So here I am, re-reading it.  The way things are currently going I might very well re-read it again as soon as I finish.  It has certainly been nice to read a bit of comfort literature after discovering the author of the last book I read primarily writes romance novels.

Just before the re-read started I finished a YA steampunk novel (the best description was the Goodreads review that called it “a bookish chimera”) which I enjoyed, even though it had a few irritating points.  The most irritating point came in the form of a wholly unnecessary time traveling character (time travel, really? you’ve already got Sherlock’s niece (Mycroft has a child? really?), Bram Stoker’s little sister, a cult that worships an Egyptian goddess, all set in a steampunk alternate history–do you really need to add unnecessary time travel into the mix?).  Now, I could get past the time travel thing (though I think the author had covered pretty much every other possible thing currently popular in YA fiction and would have been justified in leaving out something) had it not broken one of Mark Twain’s 19 rules governing fiction.  To be specific, it oblivionized rule 4, which states “that the personages in a tale, both dead and alive, shall exhibit a sufficient excuse for being there.”  The time traveler did not, in my mind, exhibit sufficient reason for being there (there are quite a few other members of Goodreads who share my opinion on this).  Perhaps he will justify his existence in the sequel; equally appealing is the idea that he will be sent back to future or simply killed off, thus ridding the story of it’s least agreeable feature.

Obsoletism

I impressed the girl from New Zealand who is staying with us at the moment—impressed and maybe horrified just a little—when I asked to pop into the room where she’s staying and just grab a book from the reference section.  I guess it’s a little atypical to have a reference section in your bedroom, but where else am I going to put my dictionaries?  I didn’t try explaining that the general reference section does not include craft reference books (what kind of a crazy person would have their Knitting Bible next to their Grammar Bible?), nor does it include pre-modern reference books; I want my Anglo-Saxon dictionary by my Anglo-Saxon texts.  She was doubly impressed (or horrified, still not sure which) when I was able to walk right over to the shelf and grab Charles Lipson’s Cite Right almost without even looking; ah! the power of organizing your books!

I usually avoid telling people how I organize my books until I know them fairly well, once people find out your fiction sections are organized by intended audience, genera, author, and original publication year, “because it’s easier that way”, they tend to think you’re crazy (if they didn’t already decide you were crazy when it slipped out you have a “fiction section” on your shelves.).  I’ve also started getting really cagey about exactly how many books I have: before moving to London I culled it down to “between four and five hundred [495] if you don’t count proofs” and obviously any ebooks are excluded.  Since moving back from London I’ve added about 20 feet of books onto the shelves.  Yes, I measure books in feet when I add them to my shelves because you can never buy just one!  But I need them all, and have actually read most of them.  And of course I use my reference section all the time (including the pre-modern western European languages reference books).

I think my new Kiwi friend was bemused that not only did I own a book all about citations (she didn’t see the one I had checked out from the library as well), but I was actually using it.  Most people I know have switched to the internet as a primary source of knowledge for things like citation examples, in part (I’m sure) because information changes so rapidly things in a book can be made obsolete before they’re even published.  I also actually use my Grammar Bible, various punctuation guides, and even my hard copy Oxford English Dictionary (the all-in-one version with the little magnifying glass for added fun!).  This practice confounds people (along with my habitual use of “fortnightly” in conversation), half the time when I pull out my dictionary they look at me like I belong in a museum; more than half the time, however, I find the definition of a word in my book before their phone finds it on the internet.

Words Words Words

I had dinner with my Grandmother this weekend and she chastised me for using a particular word (sabbatical rather than sabbatic) incorrectly.  Of course, the particular word in question can be either a noun or an adjective in modern speech, but over a dinner of homemade mac and cheese I was told in no uncertain terms that sabbatical is and only should be an adjective—it was also rather heavily implied that this was the sort of thing that was causing the downfall of western civilization as we know it.  As I sat there, staring blankly at her shaking head (which she also managed to cradle in her hands for added emphasis that I was willfully contributing to the less than dignified slaughter of the English language), I couldn’t help but think “LANGUAGE CHANGES ALL THE TIME!  I’M RIGHT!  I WAS 100% ACCURATE IN MY WORD CHOICE! STOP ACCUSING ME OF NOT KNOWING WHAT I’M SAYING!” (I think I actually said something like “mmhmm” and tried not to giggle).  This is not the first time she’s bemoaned the butchering of the English language by those one or two generations removed from her own.  

That’s not to say that every instance of correcting a person’s word choice is wrong: I am personally quite disdainful of people who are past  the third grade and have yet to figure out your-you’re, or their-there-they’re.  With the exception of (actual) gross inaccuracies, I’m unlikely to correct someone at the dinner table; I will, however, admit to pedantically correcting certain friends of mine in private just to get their dander up—there is one friend in particular with whom I view this activity as a kind of sport.  No matter how much fun I may have at my little game with my dear friend (who hasn’t yet figured out she’s playing making it all the more fun and all the easier to get a rise out of her) I don’t generally assume that civilization will crumble if people have are a little bit fast and loose with verbiage in everyday speech.