Middle Earth versus Narnia
I’ve just finished re-reading the seven-book Narnia series by C. S. Lewis*and I’m also an admirer of the Lord of the Rings trilogy by Tolkien. Around the time the Lord of the Rings movies came out, there were heated arguments at parties everywhere**about whether the Narnia series or the Lord of the Rings series is better.
I was going to begin a seven-week series of Narnia reviews today, but I’m JUST about to get my greasy mitts on “Goliath” by Scott Westerfeld, so I’ll review that in seven days’ time and then start on Narnia.
In the meantime, here’s a pre-review review:
CS Lewis and Professor Tolkien were close friends, part of a writing group called Inklings. Many members of the group were killed fighting in World War 2. Who knows what other books might have been written if the whole group had lived.
Leaving aside The Hobbit and all the other works by each author, there are some notable similarities and differences.
Both men were Christian, which is clear from reading their books if you’re into symbols (much, much clearer in Narnia’s Aslan character than in Middle Earth – in which the clearest parallel is the nature of Gandalf’s death). Both Lewis and Tolkien distrusted industry, and featured images of fighting trees (yay) and evil loggers (boo). Both wrote tales of high adventure, personal honour, and selfless sacrifice. Both featured heroes who were flawed but who could not be mistaken as anything but great heroes.
I believe that if the Narnia books were sent to a publisher by an unknown author today, they would be published.
I believe that if the Lord of the Rings books were sent to a publisher by an unknown author today, they would not be published. *gasp*
CS Lewis was writing in the 50s, so naturally women were not allowed to fight in the front lines (they could shoot arrows from the sidelines, but none ever wielded a sword), and baddies tended to be dark-skinned (or, in the case of the Black Dwarves, black-haired). However he has excellent heroic warlike female characters, and gracious and noble dark-skinned characters (Aravis is both).
Tolkien is infamous for having almost no female characters whatsoever, but he does mention (either in passing or in the Silmarilion) some truly awesome females – who fought in battles as well as any man. They did tend to be defined by the men they loved, which is a shame.
The true reason I think Lewis would be published today and that Tolkien would not is that first of all, Tolkien’s fantasy is for adults. Adult fantasy is simply harder to sell than children’s fantasy (and if we’re honest, it’s partly because adult fantasy fiction is just. . . long). But the main reason is that Lewis actually stuctured his Narnia books like modern books – starting with action/danger/conflict within the first few pages and never spending huge swathes of time on decription, rambling tangents, or – cosmic bunny save us – poetry. Lewis also has a brilliant eye for the tiny detail that makes a scene come alive.
Tolkien was predominantly a linguist – not a storyteller. I for one am grateful he was writing back when the market was quite different, and his books didn’t get rejected with the note “Needs editing”. As a modern reader (and I do read), I prefer the Lord of the Rings movies. I’m sorry, but it’s true. On the other hand, I understand that no writer in the past, present or future could create a world as rich and complex and fantastic as Tolkien did. I’m even a little glad that he didn’t get edited (as we all know, Tom Bombadil is largely irrelevent to the main plot, and would certainly be cut along with many other wonderful scenes, characters, and descriptions).
If I’m going to read a book, I pick Narnia every single time. I was pleasantly surprised this last week by how well written they are. No other classic books translate so well to the smart, focused modern reader.
And now I shall duck and cover as the argument continues.
In other news, one of my own books has been at a certain large Australian publisher for three years now. I have just discovered that the particular individual who I knew very well was holding things up has stopped working there. Which means there’s a small chance I’ll get a response in the next month or two, and a very good chance I’ll have a response in 6-12 months (ie the normal response time).
If I’d sent the book in via the slushpile, I’d have had an answer over two years ago. Kids, contacts in the biz aren’t always a good thing.
*Fun fact: The “C.S.” stands for “Clive Staples”. Abbreviation is sometimes a VERY good idea.
**This tells you exactly the kinds of friends I cultivate.
Baby Brain versus the Fuzz
I noticed the cop behind me when I glanced in my rear-view mirror. Sure I was speeding, but only a little. It’d be fine. Someone else’s car drove out of a street on the right too slowly, and I braked in a smooth and safe manner. Everything was going well.
The slow driver pulled up at a set of traffic lights, and I pulled up on their right, not wanting to continue driving behind them. I noticed the cop pulling up on my right (the turning lane) and felt the quiet relief that all upstanding citizens feel when the fuzz leaves the immediate vicinity.
Someone beeped. I looked at the car to my left, wondering if they were so stupid they thought I’d done something wrong. No; it wasn’t them. I glanced right. Surely the police weren’t beeping me? That was just silly.
OR WAS IT!?!?!?!
He beeped again, and motioned for me to wind down my window.
“Your registration sticker is out of date,” he said – in the usual copper monotone, just a shade deeper than the average male voice.
I looked at the lime-green sticker and then back at him, remembering a vague feeling of guilt back when the registration was due – such a long time ago. But I’d paid it – of course I had. “We’re definitely registered,” I told him.
“Pull up somewhere ahead so we can talk,” he said.
I nodded, and watched for the green light.
He followed after me with lights flashing until I pulled over onto the side of the road, wondering if pulling over onto the shoulder was illegal. Was it illegal sometimes, but not for an emergency? Was this an emergency? Should I keep driving until I found a better place to pull over – or would he think I was trying to make a hasty getaway?
I turned off the car and made as if to get out – the shoulder was narrow, and if he wanted to talk to me he’d have to stand in the road.
“Get back in the car,” he said.
I got back in the car, and turned the key so I could open the window (which is electric). The car alarm immediately went off, screaming at that piercing frequency so beloved by insomniacs everywhere. I fumbled for the alarm button, pressed it – nothing. That’s right: I had to turn the car off first.
I turned the car off. I turned the car alarm off with the button. I pressed the button again to de-arm the car. I turned the electrics on. I wound down the window. I switched off the car again.
“Your registration sticker has expired,” said the cop, ignoring my display of incompetence. “Is this your vehicle?”
“Yes,” I said. “But we paid. We always pay.”
“Wait here.”
He went and checked a database. I checked my scrawled notes at the back of my diary. “Car rego” was in my list of large expenses for the month of May – specifically, May 18th. I’d ticked it off, indicating that it had been paid. Thank the cosmic bunny I write everything down. That tick reminded me – the vague guilty feeling was because I’d paid it only one day before it was due – not allowing enough time for the new sticker to arrive before the due date. But the sticker should have simply arrived automatically in the mail. That’s what rego stickers do when you pay rego.
Apparently not this time. And it was more than just the sticker.
The cop returned.
“We paid,” I told him serenely, “on May 18th. Or a day or two before that.”
“According to the database, you are unregistered from that date.”
“Okay, so we have to prove we paid it. That shouldn’t be hard.”
“I’m very sorry about this, ma’am.”
“That’s all right,” I said, with the assurance of my tick-mark dancing before my eyes. “It’s not your mistake.” Or mine.
“Unfortunately I need to issue you with a traffic infringement until you’re able to prove that you paid. It will be for $1100.”
Yowser.
“You’ll need to send it in,” he said. “With that proof of your May payment.”
May, I thought. I was pregnant then.
How sick was I in May? All I remember is lying in bed trying not to vomit.
I did pay that bill. . . didn’t I?
“We won’t need to actually pay the fine, will we,” I asked him, “if we can prove we paid in May?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
“Unfortunately,” he said again, “because of our records, I can’t let you drive away until the car is registered.”
“All right,” I said cautiously. It was a sunny day, and I wasn’t going to work. I’d already taken a moment to SMS Mum and tell her I was stopped by the cops and thus running late. She was running late too, and asked if I was all right. I hadn’t had a chance to reply.
The cop gave me a number to call and pay three months’ rego over the phone. Since I don’t have a credit card, this meant calling CJ. CJ was mildly concerned that $780 was unaccounted for and that his pregnant and ill wife was in the custody of the police beside a road somewhere, but he paid the bill and relayed back the receipt number.
At that point, I was free to go.
At Mum’s place, I checked back in the day-to-day section of my diary (in which I write EVERYTHING because I know exactly how my mind works – or doesn’t) and discovered that I had “Car rego TOMORROW” crossed out on May 17 – a second indication that I had paid the bill. My system means that if something has a single line through it, it means I have dealt with it. It’s a good system.
When I went home, I found the bill itself in my filing cabinet, marked “Paid 16/5/11” in purple pen. I had literally kept my notes in triplicate. It was very easy from there to find the receipt number.
Baby Brain: 1
The fuzz: 0
The three things you need to buy
1. A car seat (or you can hire them, but you’ll need them for a long while to come).
If you want one that lasts from birth to four years, Choice says the best ones are the safe-n-sound compaq (though not the compaq delux) or the safe-n-sound meridian. The meridian features a variety of colours – praline, grey frost, navy and licorice. They are all grey. Welcome to the bizarre world of retail.
The compaq is significantly cheaper, but my father-in-law is
(a) extremely safety conscious, and
(b) paying
– so we bought the super ultra delux one.
2. A cot (secondhand is okay, assuming it’s up to standard – antique cots hugely increase the risk of SIDS and portable cots aren’t as safe either).
Choice recommends the childcare balmoral as the best buy (it’s hard to find, but Big W theoretically stocks it). We bought the tasman eco siena (still recommended by Choice, but more expensive – only marginally more expensive, thanks to my complicated schemes and bargaining). My obsessive bargaining meant we were able to choose a light wood colour, and have curved ends. All the child-safe cots look extremely similar, but the wrangling gave me such a sense of power it was definitely worth it.
See? Pretty!
NB: Speaking of SIDS – remember to get a mattress that fits, to use NO pillows or cot bumpers (or toys in the cot), and to lie the baby on their back close to the feet end.
We happen to have a bassinet, but some experts recommend putting a baby in a cot from birth.
Most cots convert into a toddler bed. This one also converts into a sofa. How cool is that?
3. Nappies (or I guess if you have a friend who used the re-useable ones you could take those secondhand too).
Choice (and everyone else in the world with a newborn) recommends Huggies newborn nappies (the pertinent phrase is “They catch more than the rest. . . almost always all of it”) but Choice also says that the much-cheaper Woolies select crawler is almost as good, but a whole lot cheaper.
Congratulations! You are now an expert on the best brands to buy.
I’m feeling pretty efficient (and pleased with myself) now we have a car seat and cot. My nausea is largely okay as long as I’m careful. Yesterday I was able to ride our exercise bike for a total of ten minutes, which bodes very well.
Tomorrow: an incident with the fuzz.
Picnic in the park
There is a park near our house, so CJ and I carried a picnic blanket, food, and an Ana over for a lazy lunch.
The ants arrived with impressive speed, and we knew our picnic was complete.
Little did we know, nature had far more in store for us.
Ana is a stone-cold killer and all the wildlife in our area knows it. Look at her cute and murderous eyes!
At first she was nervous of the open spaces all around, but she quickly recovered and decided to pursue a bird she spotted in this tree.
That was when things got interesting. The bird was a young magpie. Two others immediately swooped in to cordially suggest that Ana desist from her attentions. She ran and hid in a bush (you can just see her face on the right).
Taking a hint is not, however, Ana’s forté. So she bade her time, and then launched herself back at the tree like a demented koala:
She’s not actually good at climbing trees, so CJ and I took pictures between giggles as she jumped from branch to branch, pausing only to flail helplessly (much like all those “hang in there” kitty posters you all have on your walls).
Its protectors didn’t bother returning.
At which point we plucked Ana from the tree before she hurt herself, and went home.
Versatile Blogger Award
I am, according to General Happenings in my House, hereby awarded a Versatile Blogger award! Thank you 🙂
My duties, upon receiving this much-coveted honour, are as follows:
1) Thank the awarder by linking back to their blog;
2) Pass on this award to 15 recently discovered blogs and let them know I have done so;
3) List 7 things about myself.
Here are some great blogs (in no particular order):
1) Ripping Ozzie Reads – an accomplished group of Australian specfic writers (including Richard Harland, Rowena Cory Daniells, and Margo Lanagan) share their know-how.
2) Pub Rants – pub as in “publishing”. This is the blog of a US agent – again, lots of great advice.
3) KT Literary blog – another US agent (in fact, she is friends with # 2).
4) Nathan Bransford – US ex-agent and children’s author (again with the advice). He also runs great forums.
5) The Intern – this time it’s a US ex-intern, but her advice is still excellent (more on writing, less on the industry).
6) Behler Blog – this time it’s a US editorial director giving free industry help.
7) Writer Beware – there are a LOT of scams out there designed to prey on writers. This blog investigates, then tells the horrible truth.
8) Call My Agent! – more industry advice, but this time from an anonymous Sydney agent.
9) Terrible Minds – advice, interviews, and very rude rants from author Chuck Wendig.
10) Slushpile Hell – when a writer needs a little more sarcasm in their day.
11) Brass Bolts – a steampunk writer blogs about steampunk (the pics are especially good).
12) Trial by Steam – steampunk articles and events.
13) Multiculturalism for Steampunk – a seriously excellent and well-researched steampunk niche blog.
14) Antipodean Steampunk Adventures – an Australian steampunk who actually builds his own stuff.
15) Blue Milk – a feminist blog on motherhood (not always safe for work).
Well! That list certainly answers the question, “So, Louise, what do you do all day?”
Now for seven things about myself:
1) Umm. . . I attempted my first novel when I was seven years old (it was about a family of cats – naturally).
2) My mum read the Narnia series in hospital after giving birth to me (I’m re-reading it at the moment).
3) I speak semi-fluent Indonesian, and once considered marrying an Indonesian man I was close to.
4) I leave the curtains open until dark most nights in case the sunset is pretty.
5) Only one of my grandparents is still alive, and he is not well.
6) I can juggle.
7) I have pre-ordered “Goliath” by Scott Westerfeld; the third book in his brilliant YA steampunk trilogy (“Leviathan” is the name of the first book).
Thank you and good evening!
Ballooning adventure
I have been re-reading “The Aeronauts” by Time/Life books. It is a stunning book with a padded cover and brilliant colour inside. Too lazy to open the lid of the scanner, I’ve photographed it:
The following is taken from a first-hand account of the first successful crossing of the English channel by air – somewhat before steampunk times, since it happened in 1784 (but entirely within the realm of clockpunk). It went well at first, but then the intrepid pair of adventurers realised they were losing altitude in a manner that could soon prove fatal. Like all balloonists, they responded by throwing things overboard (NB: Blanchard, the captain, was a very short man).
“My noble little captain gave orders, and set the example,” Jeffries wrote, “by beginning to outstrip our aerial car, first of our silk and finery.” Over the side went the oars, the propeller, and two anchors, “after which my little hero stripped and threw away his coat. On this I was compelled to follow his example. He next cast away his trousers. We put on our cork jackets and were, God knows how, as merry as grigs to think how we should spatter in the water.” But the lightened gondola now rose again, and at 3 p.m., “almost benumbed with cold,” they were thrilled to see the French shore beneath them.
A half hour later, the balloon again began to descend, this time threatening the balloonists with a crash landing in a forest about 12 miles inland. This time they threw out their cork life jackets. When that had little effect, Jeffries suggested an imaginative expedient: “From the recollection that we had drunk much at breakfast and not having had any evacuation,” he reported delicately, “an extra quantity had been secreted by the kidneys, which we might now avail ouselves of by discharging.” They did so, filling two containers and dropping them over the side. A couple of pounds lighter, the balloon cleared the edge of the woods and Blanchard landed it in a small clearing. We were “almost as naked as the trees,” wrote Jeffries, with “not an inch of cord or rope left, no anchor or anything to help us, nor a being within several miles.” The only objects that remained in the car were Jeffries’ thermometer and barometer, a bottle of brandy and a packet of letters; history’s first airmail had arrived in France.
Blanchard pulled on the valve line, venting enough gas to collapse the balloon. Then the scantily clad aeronauts settled back to await rescue – and fame.
This is an artist’s rendition of the aeronauts setting off from Dover. The sail at the back is entirely fictional, although the (non-useful) oars really did exist.
If you enjoyed this entry, you’ll probably enjoy this one even more – it has accounts of more adventures aloft, including my own.
Make me care
A story needs two things: An interesting character, and a serious problem.
“Interesting” and “serious” are where it gets more complicated.
Here is an article on how to make your reader care about your characters (by giving them a reason to care before the action explodes on the page). If they don’t care, they won’t read on.
Some other day I’ll talk about how to make readers care FAST – before you lose them. I reckon you’re lucky if you get two hundred words.
“Pastworld” by Ian Beck
“Pastworld” by Ian Beck
If there’s one thing fantasy readers want – especially from steampunk tales – it’s sensory immersion. A flood of sights, sounds and smells that make us feel we’re living in another world. Ian Beck does that, in loving and exquisite detail. It is his greatest strength.
The rest of this review has been moved to Comfy Chair, where I get paid for it.
Drama with a capital ‘W’
Junk mail recently became interesting to me for the first time. Not only does it often contain entire magazines of baby-related items that I might just acquire (shiny!), but it’s now educational (“I should get me one of THOSE things”).
Fortunately, at least some of my enthusiasm has been moderated by Choice magazine, which is an independent body that reviews Australian products and rates them on safety, economy, etc. Since babies are small and easy to accidentally kill, this is a VERY useful resource for the underqualified parent (which, let’s face it, is all of us).
I found articles on nappies, cots, car seats, and strollers – excellent! The first three are clearly important, but I did pause at the thought of a stroller. I’ve never used a stroller before (even during countless hours of babysitting), and I hate walking pretty much anywhere. Bowing to the fact that CJ loves walking, that children apparently have to go outside sometime, and that everyone says strollers are super important, I accepted that this was a necessary purchase. But I wasn’t planning on spending a LOT on something to carry my baby when I already have arms.
This made the choice of stroller super easy: Choice’s “best buy” (ie the cheapest of the safe brands) was the Steelcraft Holiday stroller. This is it:
And so it was that I emitted a cry of delight while perusing a Big W sale catalogue. There in full colour was OUR stroller – and it was reduced from $98 to $78.
The following day was a Monday. Determined to catch a bargain with a hint of destiny about it, I made the herculean effort and showed up to the relevent Big W store to look at our stroller (because all the books say to check you can lift it, that the handles are a comfortable height, etc).
There was no sign of it (except for the Steelcraft Orion, which is cool but considerably heavier and more expensive). We rang for customer service repeatedly. Other than hearing the automatic page over the intercom (which was terribly exciting I’m sure), nothing happened. We figured maybe we were too quick off the mark – the sale didn’t start until the next Wednesday.
On Wednesday, CJ returned. The stroller was there, and he even spoke to a genuine 3-D staff member – who refused to open any of the boxes and let him actually look at the stroller. By this stage we’d arranged for CJ’s safety-conscious parents to come and try it out with us on the weekend.
We tried to find the stroller elsewhere, so we could look at it and therefore not waste any of CJ’s parents’ time. It turned out that Big W was the only store in Canberra who stocked it. I called them and tried to put one on hold for three days, but they refused. By this time I knew exactly why Big W was consistently cheaper than anyone else. because they sucked at customer service.
And so Saturday rolled around. I checked the magazine for the twelth time, and noticed I’d got the name wrong (using the name of another model also stocked by Big W). It didn’t seem like a major error.
And so it was that we showed up to Big W and realised that CJ hadn’t even seen the box of the correct stroller (he’d been looking at the Orion). No-one had. I immediately realised that I’d organised my in-laws to come and see a stroller that looked more and more like a myth.
We were mildly surprised when a staff member actually showed up in response to the customer service page. We were even more surprised when she fetched someone who was familiar with the nursery section. The nursery expert hadn’t heard of the stroller. I said it was in their magazine, on special. She said – as politely as was possible – that she’d go and get the magazine so I could “point it out”. We all knew what she meant: I was nuts.
At this point CJ’s parents showed up, and we explained to them that I’d apparently imagined the whole thing.
The nursery expert returned with two different sale magazines. They were definitely not the magazine I’d seen, but I leafed through them anyway. No Steelcraft Holiday stroller. So much for that.
The lady muttered something conciliatory and went away after mentioning two other stores that I might have confused with Big W. I’d obsessed over that magazine for ten days, and I didn’t know what to think. We poked half-heartedly at other nursery items, pretending there was some point in us being there.
Then – *pause for inspiring power chords* – the lady returned. With my magazine. With the picture of the stroller in it.
“No-one here has seen this catalogue,” she said, “but let me check the stockroom computer and see if we have some out the back.”
She did so, and said there were Steelcraft Holiday strollers in a back room – or so the computer said.
We waited, unconvinced the myth was about to appear. But it did. The lady re-emerged with a big smile and a pallet full of Steelcraft Holiday strollers. She and CJ and CJ’s Dad took one out and put the wheels on. It was a beautiful thing, and after establishing that it did indeed fold up, and was not too low or too heavy, we bought it.
Big W’s customer service seriously came through in the end. I can haz stroller!
(For those keeping score of how little CJ and I have spent on baby items, we are still at $0 – some friends of ours got together and paid for the stroller for us. Double win!)
Crazy Pregnant Lady
As of this morning, I have reached my pre-pregnancy weight. Four months to go (if she arrives on time, which only happens in 5% of cases, but oh well). I feel movement every day, but it’s not big enough to reach the outside of my belly yet.
I have good news on the nausea front: It turns out about 20% of my nausea was actually heartburn, which is easily and safely treated with gaviscon. Suddenly I’m much less sick, and the hope of getting off ondansetron/zofran is reignited once more (it’s not an especially plausible hope, but it’s there).
So how’s things on the crazy front?
I have an anxiety disorder (had it for years, and it’s severe enough I can’t do more than about twelve hours of non-writing work in a week), which is a pretty clear disadvantage from the starting gate – but it’s also one I’ve claimed as an advantage, since I’m used to my mind and body telling me things that aren’t true.
I’m very anxious about the nausea, particularly about throwing up without warning. As far as anxiety triggers go, this is about 70% rational. Things that have triggered vomit include walking across a room (due to feeling better), coughing, sipping water, having a shower, and cleaning my teeth. I’ve thrown up at every possible time of day, and not just in first trimester.
So yes, I’m anxious about the nausea. That makes rational sense.
I’m not anxious about Louisette. I was anxious about the effects of the medicine, but not any more. Apart from anything else, intense nausea is considered a good sign for baby health – it’s abundantly clear every hour that my body is doing its thing. Now I have daily movement as well.
I’m less functional than usual (maximum four hours of paid work a week) but I’m actually less anxious than usual. I think there’s something about the nausea that just dampens all my emotions – and I’m fine with that. It helps pass the time. Plus I’m so pleased that we were able to conceive.
I have found, ever since CJ and I began trying for a baby, that some of my obsessive-compulsive fidgets are much more pronounced. The OCD part of my anxiety is a very small part, and although it’s irritating for me personally, I don’t think it’s at the stage where everyone around me has to join in or I can’t function (which would be so annoying for me and for them).
If something does make me feel anxious, it also makes me nauseous – so I’m steering clear of books and TV that are the slightest bit scary or gross. That’s quite annoying, but certainly survivable.
Our finances aren’t great, but they’re okay. I’m a bit anxious about the social obligations of the baby shower, but I feel a lot better having taken certain friends aside and told them to buy me certain dull-but-vital baby items.
I’m not anxious about labor yet – I expect I’ll be fine until January, then anxious (more about getting naked than about pain – mine is a predominantly social anxiety disorder), and then labor itself will be similar to anyone else’s experience.
Here is the bassinet I’ve been lent, as modelled by the adorable one-year old punk (the mohawk was non-deliberate) who has long since grown out of it.
Felicity Banks 