I don't remember where I came across my first issue of Parabola, but I know it was sometime in the spring of 2001. That first issue was called The Garden. Beautiful to the senses and nourishing to the soul and body, a garden was our first home. So said the cover blurb. The first piece inside was the story of Rapunzel. Read more about Parabola
Going for a short entry today, these are the current books I'm reading, looking forward to how they will all, in one way or another, add to The Story:
- How the world of 19th-Century France produced the woman we know as Colette and how she, in turn, added to what women can be today.
- One woman's connection with the music that helped make my world. I'm beginning to see strands of connection between this world and that of the world of Colette - both growing out of and contributing to a cultural shift. Read more about Reading List February 2014
When you get right down to it, all history, whether written by the winners or the losers, is fiction. Aside from pinning a date to an event or producing written documentation, there is little else that anyone can say, unless in autobiography, about anyone's motivations, and even there we have to consider the source. So, unless you're planning a career as an historian, you might as well stick to actual fiction.
Once upon a time I thought that perhaps I might have a career as an historian, so I've read lots and lots of actual histories. But you know what I remember? These: Read more about How To Read History
Here's an idea for Black Friday. Buy books. At a bookstore. A real live brick and mortar bookstore. Call your friends and go on a bookstore shopping spree. See how many independent bookstores - new and used - you can find in a 25-mile radius. Buy at least one book in each one. And when the clerk - and in these bookstores, that's probably the proprietor - rings you up, smiles, and says thank you, you smile right back and say no. Thank you. Read more about Thank the Bookstores
She is wearing pearls, and white brocade embroidered with stiff little sprigs of carnations. He recognises considerable expenditure; leave the pearls aside, you couldn't turn her out like that for much under thirty pounds. No wonder she moves with gingerly concern, like a child who's been told not to spill something on herself.
"We were the radical women of Door County," I said, explaining the origin of the four poems I had just read at the monthly meeting of R.A.S.P., in conversation with a couple of women afterwards. "They were seminal figures in my life at that time."
I realized, as I said it, that seminal was the wrong word. "There must be a better word, " I added, but my companions seemed willing to go along with it. It was time to go anyway, but that word has stayed on my mind. Read more about Seminal Works