sagedautumn
Collection of short stories bought by Random House
You Might Need This!
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Post by sagedautumn on Sept 19, 2007 11:51:15 GMT -5
That is SOO cute!I wish I could go and see her! But I've been "up to my eyes" work for college. It's really really bad!!! I haven't had tuime to do anything except all my homework!!
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neh
Collection of short stories published by an independent editor
"I live in two worlds; one is a world of books"
Posts: 943
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Post by neh on Sept 24, 2007 4:32:05 GMT -5
*SORRY I'M LATE IN POSTING THIS* Another blog update - she saw a flick i'm very interested in seeing, but alas as with most films we're getting it much later than the US.
September 18th, 2007 Current Music: How Many More Times/Led Zeppelin Subject: BK Lit Festival Time: 05:17 pm Current Mood: good The Brooklyn Book Festival was a good time on Sunday, and it was so great to see some of you there. Truly, it can be nerve-wracking to stand up in front of people and read, and being able to know you've got some peeps in the audience is such a calming thing. So thanks a million for coming out and supporting YA writers!
Also on the panel were Cassandra Clare and Melissa Marr. Poor Melissa was all kinds of sick--I'm talking "I'm going to puke any second" sick--and yet she managed to soldier on, reading from Wicked Lovely (which I have not read yet but am looking forward to reading) and answering questions intelligently and signing books with nary a peep. I was amazed because when I am sick to my stomach, I whimper and whine nonstop and make absurd bargains with the universe: "Okay, if you'll just keep me from barfing, I promise I will personally save a whale. k thx bai." I hope she is feeling better now and got to enjoy some of NYC before heading back home.
Cassie was her usual witty, dry self. She always manages to tell me some story in a completely bemused, arched eyebrow, Cassie-like way that has me slapping my leg in laughter. It was great to hang with her for the day, a real perk. But when she started to read from City of Ashes, the sequel to City of Bones, I had to sing la-la-la-la in my head so as not to hear any spoilers. I'm halfway through City of Bones and it rocks so hard! I can't turn the pages fast enough.
The fabulous Sharyn November was our moderator. She had some of the most brilliant questions to ask, but sadly, we were in a time crunch, so I guess we'll all have to stage a mock festival to answer all her questions. We can all wear black turtlenecks and look pensive.
I had one of those I'm-Going-to-Scream-with-Fangirl-Glee-and-Possibly-Pee-Myself moments on Sunday. My absolute favorite writer in the whole world is George Saunders (Pastoralia, In Persuasion Nation, CivilWarLand in Bad Decline). If it were possible for me to have the George Saunders Teen Beat poster in my room and the George Saunders bobblehead bottle opener, the George Saunders tea cozy and George Saunders big bass fish on my wall, I would. So I'm sitting in the author green room waiting around when my husband leans in and whispers, "Is that George Saunders behind you?" To which I blurted out, "Where?!!!!" And my husband put his palm to his forehead in disbelief and whispered, "Behind you, behind you, no, BEHIND YOU." Whereupon I looked behind me and promptly vomited into my mouth. "OMG!" I whispered reallyreallyreally fast. "It's him! It's George Saunders!" "Go introduce yourself to him," Barry prompted. I gripped the couch and swallowed down vomit a second time. "I can't. I'll cry. Or say something embarrassing. Or eat my entrails in an effort to impress him. Or say something embarrassing while crying and eating my entrails. I might try to snip a lock of his hair to distill his genius in a beaker with my Home Genius Extraction Kit. I can't be trusted." Barry rolled his eyes. "Just go introduce yourself." I looked behind me again and made a strange sound in my throat like a cross between a duck mating and a drunk passing out. And then I swallowed hard and went over to him. "Hi," I said, extending a very sweaty, very shaky hand. "I just want to say that you're my favorite author in the whole world and, um, I'm just thrilled to meet you." (Cue maniacal smile. Should I go for the entrails?) Mr. Saunders (I can't call him George. I just can't.) was incredibly gracious and said thanks and introduced his lovely daughter Caitlyn who is about twelve kinds of beautiful. "So what do you write?" he asked. "Huh?" I said. "What do you write?" "Oh, um, I write, um, YA. Young adult. Teen fiction. For teens. Sort of fantasy and it's, yeah, it's for teens." (I think I actually did a little Wallace-and-Gromit motion with my hands. Note to self: beat head into a wall later.) "Well, that's great! What's your panel on?" "Oh, ah..." (You have a panel, Lib. Jesus, get it together.) "Dark fantasy." I nod many many times. While smiling like an eight-year-old Sanjaya worshipper. "Sounds like my kind of thing," he said, smiling. "Good luck. It was nice to meet you." And then he grabbed his bag so he could catch his flight, and Caitlyn smiled sweetly and made a gracious goodbye, and I returned to the couch and my husband and said. "OMG! I shook George Saunders's hand!!!! I met his daughter! Ahhhhhhh!!!!" while people smiled uncomfortably and moved away from me. Now if I meet Pete Townsend, I'll be afraid I have an incurable disease and am about to die, because I figured I couldn't die until I'd met George Saunders and Pete Townsend.
I'm currently making my way through first-pass pages. These are the copyedited pages laid out as they will be in the final book. This is my last chance to make (small) changes and corrections. It's coming out at 826 pages. Today, reading through it, I felt excited. And a little sad. And excited again. And critical (I'm human). And hopeful that it will be a satisfying ending.
On Saturday night, Barry and I went to see "Across the Universe." It's the new Julie Taymor film--a musical about the sixties set to Beatles tunes. I had really high hopes for this. It's my kind of thing: very theatrical, slightly surreal, with a theatrical quality** (think Moulin Rouge). And I am a fan of Taymor's. But I confess I didn't love this. There were some truly arresting images that I liked. But there was no story--and not in an experimental, nonlinear sense. I mean in a "whoops, we forgot to supply a coherent plot" sense. Also, I'm old enough to remember seeing "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" in the late 1970's, which was another attempt at building a movie around Beatles songs, with rather disastrous results. (My best friend and I were 13, and we laughed so hard that snot came out of our noses. We still have little catchphrases that pertain to that trainwreck of a movie. So it was good for that at least.) Anyway, I was bummed that "Across the Universe" wasn't better because I really wanted it to be.
At least it wasn't as bad as High School Musical.
**really? is it theatrical? so theatrical I had to say it twice? Ay yi yi. Typing too fast. Brain too slow.
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sagedautumn
Collection of short stories bought by Random House
You Might Need This!
Posts: 1,509
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Post by sagedautumn on Sept 25, 2007 16:49:51 GMT -5
I love her!! I just wish she would post a little bit more about the book! I want to hear all the JUICY stuff man!
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neh
Collection of short stories published by an independent editor
"I live in two worlds; one is a world of books"
Posts: 943
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Post by neh on Sept 27, 2007 8:03:47 GMT -5
Oh me too - copy that! But i guess she likes to send out teasers in the form of outtakes... which are always tormenting for me as you wonder whether certain themes or ideas have been completely abandoned... although she usually provides commentary and that can give some clues as to what to expect... where AM i going with this post?! *brain frizzles out*
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sagedautumn
Collection of short stories bought by Random House
You Might Need This!
Posts: 1,509
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Post by sagedautumn on Oct 29, 2007 14:45:00 GMT -5
I loved how she told the story about the woman at the airport I thought it was so cute!!! I made a mistake about the time for the Iowa City Public Library today.
I'm there at 4:00 pm, not 3:15. 3:15 is the time I'm leaving the hotel. Yeah, it helps if you read ALL the way through the information. This, by the way, is why I can never put together anything that requires assembly--because I read one sentence, and go, "Instructions? We don't need no stinking instructions!" Then I toss the paper aside and stare at the pieces as if they will form a hologram that will convey all the information needed. I should stop doing that.
Anyway: Iowa City Public Library 123 S. Linn St. *4:00 PM*
I am going to talk some about The Sweet Far Thing. I think. Maybe. Maybe I'll do the book in mime. We'll see.
Flying into Cedar Rapids was cool. I was on one of those little Tonka Toys planes. Usually, this fills me with fear. My feeling about flying in general is sort of, "Hmmm, let me see...I'm in a metal sausage, 37,000 feet in the air, hurtling through the skies, defying gravity atop an ignitable fuel source....who'd like to sedate me first?" But for some reason, I wasn't scared. We were flying low, for one thing. And as we descended over the cornfields, I just thought the landscape was amazing--flat and golden-brown, the corn stalks like brush strokes in a painting. It all looked just like I thought the Midwest should look, but more beautiful.
Living in New York City, I sometimes forget the glory of wide, open spaces. I mean, I come from wide open space. North Texas is definitely that. But maybe because I associate Texas with adolescence and that age-specific need to get away, to escape, I experienced it as claustrophic. All that sky weighing you down, sameness everywhere you looked. But driving in from the airport yesterday, I felt as if the sameness of Iowa was different. Beautiful. A bit mythic. Yeah, maybe there were gas stations and a Target to break it up, but for the most part, it was open and expansive. It made me think of Neil Gaiman's AMERICAN GODS. (Hmmm, perhaps I should be worried now...)
I called my family to say goodnight, and then I called my best friend, Eleanor, up in Boston, and she sat on her kids' swingset and I sat in my hotel room, and we yakked for nearly two hours, as if there were not half a country and thirty years' of history between us. Like once again, we were both restless teenagers with a car stereo blaring The Who as we passed those shiny, green-and-white mile markers that dot America like advertisements for a manifest destiny of happiness, a promise of finding yourself: "Keep driving," they whisper. "What you want is just down the road." We used to do that--drive a little further each time, daring ourselves with the thought of escape until we had to turn back around, turn toward home.
This morning when I woke up and opened the curtains, the sun was strong, but there was a low line of graying clouds on the horizon. Six floors down, there was a pond with a fountain and beyond that, an unassuming blue house with an American-made, midsized car and a boat tucked back next to the garage. Farther out, through the thinning tree leaves, there was a road where semi-trucks whizzed along, to and fro, carrying mysterious cargo. And I was filled with a small, winged hope for nothing in particular, just a nugget of joy at being alive and where I was for the moment with the whole day stretched out before me and no real expectations.
There is a romance to traveling. It as if, when you leave your hometown, you also leave yourself behind. You are free to become whatever, whoever you care to imagine. No one can say, "Oh, it's so-and-so, the mom" or "So-and-so the underachiever" or "So-and-so the not-nearly-as-beautiful-as-her-older-sister." You're a stranger, not just to everyone else, but to yourself. You are wide open for self-discovery. And, perhaps because of that, you are more open to the rest of the world and its stories.
As I was waiting for my connecting flight in the St. Louis airport, I had a conversation with an eighty-year-old woman, Mrs. M., who had come down to visit her grandchildren and was on her way home. She had lived her whole life in Iowa City. She told me about her father's barber shop, about what it was like and how it had passed from her father to her husband. She met her husband on a blind date. "He didn't even hold my hand until the third date," she told me, smiling. "He kissed me on the fourth date and that was it." They raised three children in Iowa City and ran their business. Now, she is a widow of two years, and she told me she goes to his grave every Sunday afternoon and says, "Joe, get your butt back down here!"
As love stories go, it is a quiet one. But it's a love story, nonetheless. And I felt privileged to hear it in a busy airport, people rushing around--some frustrated, some frantic, some laughing--all of them going from one place to another, taking their baggage and their stories with them. We're all strangers connected by what we reveal, what we share, what we take away--our stories. I guess that's what I love about books--they are thin strands of humanity that tether us to one another for a small bit of time, that make us feel less alone or even more comfortable with our aloneness, if need be.
Outside, the clouds have won the day. There's a gray, cottony lid pressing down on us. But near the pond, a family of birds is enjoying a last drink. They know that winter is coming. Soon, they will take to the skies, searching for warmth, for food, for whatever it is they need. They will travel light, taking only what is necessary to continue, as they fly over the trucks; the cars; the cornfields and strip malls; the small blue houses that shelter; the restless teenagers and whispering roads; the collective dreams, endless and mythic as the Midwest, of the strangers below
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rosemint
Collection of short stories published by an independent editor
Posts: 879
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Post by rosemint on Oct 29, 2007 15:00:50 GMT -5
Great love story! I like "older" people, they're so honest and open most of the time!
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sagedautumn
Collection of short stories bought by Random House
You Might Need This!
Posts: 1,509
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Post by sagedautumn on Oct 29, 2007 16:28:55 GMT -5
I know sometimes I wish I can go into time and see what I would be like as an older woman, Kind of like the woman in Titanic minus the pink nailpolish
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bookworm148
Collection of short stories published by an independent editor
"Here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of a sky of a tree called life."
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Post by bookworm148 on Oct 30, 2007 12:50:03 GMT -5
I think that would be awesome!
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sagedautumn
Collection of short stories bought by Random House
You Might Need This!
Posts: 1,509
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Post by sagedautumn on Oct 30, 2007 13:05:50 GMT -5
Definately! So have you read these books??
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sagedautumn
Collection of short stories bought by Random House
You Might Need This!
Posts: 1,509
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Post by sagedautumn on Nov 1, 2007 7:34:23 GMT -5
A Halloween Treat!!! I'm back from Charlotte and the Novello Festival, which was a really, really good time. I got to hang out with some fabulous authors/illustrator--Nikki Grimes, Jeff Smith, Colleen Panatore, Eric Kimmel, Tony Abbott, Pat Mora, James Ransome, and Wendelin Van Draanen--all of whom inspired me and cracked me up in equal measure. I had time with old friends and made some new friends. (How very Girl Scouts motto that sounds...) And, of course, I got to meet some of you guys, which was about 12 kind of awesome. Thanks to everyone who came out to the Charlotte Public Library, thanks for asking such terrific questions, and thanks to all the teens I met at the various schools I visited. And a big thanks for not taping a "Kick Me" sign to my back. It takes so long to get that tape off your clothes. So, it's Halloween! Hooray! My favorite holiday! I have already eaten my weight in mini-Almond Joys and Reese's peanut butter cups, which are like the Oxycontin of candy, I swear. I could vomit and it's not even afternoon. Speaking of Halloween, www.moviefone.com has been running their Best Horror Movies of All Time list this month. I live for this kind of stuff. I love horror. A love a good creepfest. I started watching "Dark Shadows" when I was five. I read Grimm's Fairy Tales horror comics as a kid. And I watched all the classics--"Frankenstein" "Bride of Frankenstein" "The Wolfman" "The Mummy." I was addicted to the Hammer Horror films of the late sixties and early seventies, starring Christopher Lee and Peter Cushing, (the ones where the women all have beehive hairdos and black eyeliner--very Amy Winehouse--even though they live in 1800's-era Europe...oy.) After school, I would curl up in a chair in our living room with some unnaturally-colored snack food and watch Vincent Price movies like "The Pit and the Pendulum" and "The Fall of the House of Usher." (Yeah, this was back when you could come home after school and eat Twinkies and watch TV and generally be neglected by all adults instead of having to cram for the PSAT to the Tenth Power while also playing twelve sports and putting together a portfolio for middle school. That is just so wrong. More Twinkies, less pressure. That's my war cry and I'm sticking to it.) Anyway, back to my misspent youth. My favorite TV show for a while was something called "Kolchak: The Night Stalker" (not the cheesy remake but the original with the wonderful Darren McGavin) in which Chicago reporter Karl Kolchak was always getting mixed up in supernatural events. (If you've watched "The X-Files" and "Supernatural" you can see the influence.) I also watched Rod Serling's "Night Gallery" religiously. Sigh. One of my favorite Halloweens involved spending the evening at the home of friends in Stonington, CT, reading ghost stories by candlelight. When Barry and I were leaving late that night, we had to walk out to our car down a dark, narrow lane shrouded in fog, and I really got why a lot of great ghost stories take place in New England. I remember going to see "When a Stranger Calls" (the original) with my BFF and coming home to an empty house. I babysat a lot back then, and the movie scared the bejesus out of me. I'm in the bathroom brushing my teeth, and I heard this loud thunk on the other side of the bathroom door. I threw myself at the bathroom door and kept my weight against the door, and when I saw myself in the mirror, I was completely pale. I honestly thought I might pass out from fear. I didn't leave the safety of the bathroom till my mom got home about thirty minutes later. I still don't know what that noise was, though. Creepy. To me, there are few things more enjoyable than sitting in a darkened movie theatre with your collar turned up (to keep your neck safe from the monsters), your skin prickly, and all your senses on alert, just waiting to be scared. So, in honor of Halloween, I submit my roundup of favorite horror movies, subject to change when I remember others, of course. "The Omen" This movie terrified me. Damien was so creepy. And Billie Whitelaw as the nanny had me needing a Depends. I remember thinking, okay, a serial killer you can run away from or outmsart. But how do you outsmart the antichrist? How do you fight the supernatural? That's not a fair fight. This very idea informed a short story I wrote, "Bad Things," in an anthology that's out this month called, THE RESTLESS DEAD. "The Exorcist" Truth be told, I saw this first at the drive-in with my brother, so it lost a lot of its terror factor right there. Also, I'd already read the parody in MAD magazine. But then I rented it and watched it in my living room, alone, and I'm telling you, I couldn't even go to bed afterward. I was afraid to move. I lay on my couch with one eye open all night, and even when it was morning, I still didn't feel right. Stephen King once wrote a terrific essay in which he argued that "The Exorcist" was a reaction to the counterculture--to parents feeling as if their kids were out of control. "Possessed" in essence. I wonder if that's why so many horror movies of the eighties featured hockey-mask-wearing guys hacking up snotty teens at summer camp. The parents' revenge? "Better straighten up, kids, or the bogeyman'll get ya." Sort of fits the "Just Say No" era. "Rosemary's Baby" I remember this being one of the times my mother actually said no to a movie. No way. Too scary. So the first time I saw this movie, I was already living in New York City and had seen the legendary Dakota, that tragic building, up close, and could really understand how creepy it was. The film offers great commentary on so many different things--marriage, motherhood, American ambition, society, religion, sex, politics. And Roman Polanski really knows how to get under your skin. (Years later, I read the book...while pushing my son's baby carriage in the park. I'm sure that made for a happy snapshot.) Anyway, this is probably my favorite horror movie--the benchmark for all tingly movies. "Suspiria" Dario Argento's masterpiece takes place at a school for dancers in Europe. The place is beyond creepy and is surrounded by a thick forest so that it's virtually impossible to escape. It's run by a real prison warden of a headmistress, played by Joan Bennett looking like a fierce drag queen. And what, exactly, is going on at night? And why are the girls all dying in gruesome, but extremely fashionable, ways? Because they're Italian and fabulous! I don't usually do gory, but the gore in this is pretty spectacular in terms of art direction. I think some of my inspiration for Spence came from seeing this movie. "The Wolfman" From the claustrophobic vaguely European streets to the foggy moors scenes and all the sexual undertones, this film still packs a wallop. And I always felt so sorry for Lon Chaney. "Alien" Still terrifying. I saw this in the theatre in Corpus Christi, TX, with my friend Donna Hoffman. When the alien popped out of John Hurt's stomach, I actually laughed. I thought, "This is total cheese-o-rama." Yeah, I ate those words a little later when I was nearly under my seat with fright. The sense of dread and paranoia that builds up is incredible, and that moment in the pod when Sigourney realizes she's got a stowaway...gulp. I once participated in a live action game of "Alien" in London's West End that scared the absolute crap out of me. I thought it would be a cheesy, "you are the crew" reenactment, and I ended up practically needing a pants change. At one point, that Geiger-alien stepped out and surprised me, and in my absolute terror, I fell backward off a bannister-less landing, falling about four feet, cracking my head on the concrete floor below. I probably had a serious concussion, which I ignored, because I was so terrified I could only run. *shudders* "The Ring" It doesn't really make a lot of sense when you think about it afterward, but who cares about that when you've got the image of Samara to haunt your dreams? I swear when I wake up in the middle of the night I can still see her crawling out of that well, and it's enough to make me pull the covers up to my chin and close my eyes really, really tight. Stay in the well, Samara. Stay in the well. And don't play any strange video tapes, people. "When a Stranger Calls" If you have ever been a babysitter, this one strikes hard. The movie bogs down a bit in the middle, becomes too much of a character study, IMHO. But the first twenty minutes or so, when Jill the babysitter is in the house wondering about those freaky phone calls, and the shot where she gets the info that the calls are coming from inside the house? AHHHHHHH!!!!! (Once, I was house-sitting for some friends, and heard something coming from upstairs. And what did I do? Did I leave the house and call someone? Did I run screaming? No. I did what every stupid idiot in every horror movie does while you scream that they are stupid idiots--I walked up the stairs saying, "Hello? Hello?" Only I had as my trusty weapons a spatula and a frying pan. Like what the hell did I think I was going to do with those? "Oh, hi, Mr. Supernatural Serial Killer. How do you like your eggs?" Sheesh. It's a wonder I've lived this long. "The Shining" Yes, those British twins are creepy. The dead woman in the bathtub, terrifying. The blood pouring out of the elevators, ditto. The scene with the kid on the tricycle where all you hear is the rumble of the wheels on the floor and the silence when he rolls over carpet and that camera angle in which you cannot see what's around the next corner is almost unbearable. And of course, there's Jack. But my vote for scariest scene? Here's a hint: All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy... "Don't Look Now" Technically, I'm not sure it's a horror movie. Based on a Daphne DuMaurier short story, set in Venice, it's more a meditation on grief, love, and the fragility of life. Well, what could be scarier than that? But it's also super creepy, and I swear you will never look at raincoats the same way again. "Halloween" Well, I can't leave out Michael Myers, can I? So, tell me--what are YOUR favorite creepfests? What makes you scared? And are you dressing up for Halloween this year? Have a great Halloween. And don't let the goblins get you...
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sagedautumn
Collection of short stories bought by Random House
You Might Need This!
Posts: 1,509
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Post by sagedautumn on Nov 1, 2007 7:35:13 GMT -5
How good is that!! I am in love with the way she writes! It is so effective it makes my skin crawl! I just wish she would write more about her book!
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neh
Collection of short stories published by an independent editor
"I live in two worlds; one is a world of books"
Posts: 943
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Post by neh on Nov 7, 2007 16:31:26 GMT -5
I've FINALLY got my sis into reading AGATB and i tried last night to explain to her the whacky and wonderful genius that is Libba but she didn't care... it could just be me but i find it so comforting and encouraging that a lunatic can also be brilliant and successul! I ADORE LIBBA!
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sagedautumn
Collection of short stories bought by Random House
You Might Need This!
Posts: 1,509
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Post by sagedautumn on Nov 8, 2007 7:53:28 GMT -5
Join the Club! We've got jackets. I was recently re-reading A Great and Terrible Beauty and I seriously think that there is more to Simon that meets the eye. I have proof!!Okay.... You know when Gemma's family first visits the Middleton's and Simon tries to get Gemma alone at the library? Well he says something about her necklace and how it is unusual. Why would a guy comment about something as peculiar as jewlery. Most boys would rather ask you shut up and jump on top of you LOL! When Gemma get's a little weirded out he begins to flirt with her again telling her it was her neck he noticed rather the necklace.
MORE PROOF!!!
At the same meeting he calls her mysterious. But the whole time Gemma has acted like a proper lady. No scandalous behavior, no snarky comments, just a plain boring, dull, proper lady. Why would he say something like that to someone who is at least on the outside SOOO dull?
FINALLY:
The Rakashana and the Order were lovers. Libba mentions this in Book 1 and Book 2 which means.....ding ding! It probably is going to have a major role in Book 3. I have noticed that there seems to be a lot of "history repeating itself" so I have a feeling that the Rakashana will play a major role. Kartik is not in the Rakashana any more so I have a feeling Simon will have a major role in that as well.
What do you think?? If i had my book with me I would take out exact quotes and probably be a lot more clearer but I am at Uni.
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neh
Collection of short stories published by an independent editor
"I live in two worlds; one is a world of books"
Posts: 943
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Post by neh on Nov 12, 2007 5:10:15 GMT -5
Hmmm... some good points there, my friend, some good points... just so long as Simon really ends up being the fiend i pin him to be, then i'll be happy, hehe! *sorry, i just really don't like the guy* But very good observing with the necklace during the intimate moment there; myself i was too busy yelling at him for seemingly feeling her up during her attack thingy! *fumes at the thought*
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neh
Collection of short stories published by an independent editor
"I live in two worlds; one is a world of books"
Posts: 943
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Post by neh on Nov 30, 2007 1:21:42 GMT -5
Hey guys, if anyone else is a musical theatre fan, then you may know about a rock musical called "Spring Awakening". I was listening to the cast recording all through this week and it suddenly occurred to me that one of the numbers is DIRECTLY coinciding with Fee's relationship with her dad, so i've attatched the lyrics for y'all! *I should say for contextual purposes that this song is sung by two of the young female cast members, who tell their astonished friends of the physical and sexual abuse they have suffered from their fathers.
Artist: Lilli Cooper & Lauren Pritchard Song: The Dark I Know Well
MARTHA There is a part I can’t tell About the dark I know well
You say, “Time for bed now child,” Mom just smiles that smile Just like she never saw me Just like she never saw me
So, I leave, wanting to hide Knowing deep inside You are coming to me You are coming to me
You say all you want is just a kiss goodnight And then you hold me and you whisper, “Child, the Lord won’t mind. It’s just you and me. Child, you’re a beauty.
“God, it’s good – the lovin’ – ain’t it good tonight? You ain’t seen nothing yet – gonna treat you right. It’s just you and me Child you’re a beauty.”
ILSE I don’t scream, though I know it’s wrong I just play along I lie there and breathe Lie there and breathe
I wanna be strong I want the world to find out That you’re dreamin’ on me Me and my “beauty” Me and my “beauty”
BOTH You say all you want is just a kiss goodnight And then you hold me and you whisper, “Child, the Lord won’t mind. It’s just you and me. Child, you’re a beauty.
“God, it’s good – the lovin’ – ain’t it good tonight? You ain’t seen nothing yet – gonna treat you right. It’s just you and me Child you’re a beauty.”
There is a part I can’t tell About the dark I know well
There is a part I can’t tell About the dark I know well
There is a part I can’t tell About the dark I know well
There is a part I can’t tell About the dark I know well
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