Monthly Archives: September 2007

More Giants Passing

I just discovered via Curtana that Madeleine L’Engle passed away.

Madeleine L’Engle, Children’s Writer, Is Dead
By DOUGLAS MARTIN
Published: September 8, 2007

Madeleine L’Engle, who in writing more than 60 books, including childhood fables, religious meditations and science fiction, weaved emotional tapestries transcending genre and generation, died Thursday in Connecticut. She was 88.

Her death, of natural causes, was announced today by her publisher, Farrar, Straus and Giroux.

Curtana posted the wonderful evocation “I name you…” from A Wind in the Door on her LJ in tribute. Carrying the idea forward, here is a quote from A Circle of Quiet about the need to respond to the creations of others:

“A great painting, or symphony, or play, doesn’t diminish us, but enlarges us, and we, too, want to make our own cry of affirmation to the power of creation behind the universe. This surge of creativity has nothing to do with competition, or degree of talent….This response on the part of any artist is the need to make incarnate the new awareness we have been granted through the genius of someone else.”

Thank you, Madeleine. Thank you.

Saying Thank You

Naturally, every show on CBC Radio 2 played Pavarotti recordings yesterday. Every time a new one started the boy jumped, turned around to peer up at the stereo, and said, “Hello! What are you doing?”

“That’s Pavarotti,” I said. “He is singing.”

“Oh! Otay.” Then he turned back to the stereo and chirped loudly, “Thank you!”

I’ve never been a Pavarotti fan myself — too much of the superstar thing happening, and besides, I’ve always been ‘meh’ about tenors and tenor arias — but the boy had it right. Thank you for singing. Thank you for making millions of people happy throughout your life. And thank you for sharing your love of music with the world.

My Day, By Me

The boy and I had a terrific day today. I think we both needed it. We drove HRH to work and did a couple of hours’ worth of errands on the way home (we now have a drying rack, huzzah, but we do not have cornmeal, which meant I couldn’t make the polenta I was craving). Then Sparky asked to watch a movie while I put away groceries and made him lunch. His nap lasted somewhere between two and two and a half hours, which gave me plenty of time to read a chunk of Sarah Monette’s The Virtu as well as play the cello for an hour. Just for kicks I’ve decided to start learning the second solo cello line of Vivaldi’s Concerto for Two Celli in G minor (RV 531 if you are a music geek, as I am), so I played through that and did remarkably well, although I discovered that I didn’t know the timing as well as I thought I did, nor the correct stresses and musical phrasing in certain places. Also, holy sixteenth notes that feel like thirty-seconds! Playing them at speed just isn’t going to happen just yet.

Then I played through a bunch of band stuff, proved to myself that I can actually play the solo from Enter Sandman (contrary to the evidence supplied by my performance on May 19), worked on my tone during Moon Over Bourbon Street, played Wheat Kings because I love the long tones, and really worked The Bonny Swans riffs. There just is no pretty technical way to play the first call and response phrase; I tried it in three different position combinations and there’s no way to win. It has to be the way I first worked it out because as awkward as the shift is, the alternate positions are even more awkward. Still, I worked that shift and the tone, and yeah, I can make it sound good. In fact, all of it sounded a lot better than I thought it would after not playing any of it since the gig, almost four months ago.

I am rather pleased: this marks the second time this week I’ve sat down and played. I’ve really ignored the cello this summer, partially because I am lazy, but also because the fretless bass is shiny and siren-like. Not that I’ve played Eva a heck of a lot either, but she’s easier to grab and mess about with than Adele is. However, I’ve played Adele at least an hour every couple of weeks, so she hasn’t been completely ignored. And really, I’ve been quite happy with my tone, too, and the quality of sound I’m pulling from her. I believe orchestra will be back in session next week, and I’m glad I won’t completely embarrass myself in whatever we end up playing. (Apart from whatever understandable embarrassment arises from sightreading things, naturally.)

Anywhats, yes, much with the cello playing while the boy napped. I heard him mumble an hour and a half into the nap while I played the Swans riffs and thought I’d woken him, but evidently he only surfaced for a moment and rolled over because I didn’t hear him again for another hour. And when I walked in to get him he was sitting in bed with a book, and said, “Oh, hi, Mama, I’m reading now.” “Oh, okay,” I said, “you just let me know when you’re ready to get up, then.” So I went back to chopping and frying the onions for the lasagna, and he didn’t call me back for another ten minutes. We made the lasagna together, the boy eating grated mozzarella and broken bits of uncooked lasagna noodles while standing on a kitchen chair supervising me. ( “Where go the noodles?” he said as I covered them with sauce, exactly the way he plays the Where’s Liam? game. “They’re under the sauce.” “Ah, otay, I see,” he said. Glad we’ve got all that straight, Sparky. Can we move on to the next layer now?)

Lasagna assembled, we hit the road to go pick HRH up, and treated ourselves to iced cappuccinos and doughnut holes on the way home. They were a comfort in the abysmal traffic and the August-like humidity that has returned to haunt us after a lovely cool week. Did I mention that everyone and their dog has returned to school? People are cluttering up my roads. That’s the one drawback to having the car while HRH is at work: we have to go pick him up at the end of the day and it’s lots of traffic both ways, being rush hour, and the boy gets very upset at being in the car for an hour and a half. Can’t blame him; I’m usually deeply unimpressed with the experience myself.

So, a good day all around. Tomorrow I will work on the Vivaldi novel again.

Il Maestro Update

Total word count, Il Maestro e le Figlie di Coro: 45,794
New words today: 1,372
Carrots: a couple (emotionally, if not directly applicable to the work itself)

I didn’t remember the last time I’d actively worked on this book, but the date stamp on the file told me it was last December.

Let’s hear it for rummaging through notes to find suggestions for scenes, and going back to insert them between chapters! There is now part of a Chapter 6 1/2 covering what happens in December, which is a good thing because the existing narrative jumped from November to late January. This is also a good thing in that I get to warm up: it eases me back into the feel of this novel without forcing me to write the Big Thing That Comes Next.

When I opened the file this morning I panicked because it was so much smaller than I remembered it being. I’d forgotten that I cut about five thousand words out of this novel because they sent it in a direction I chose not to take after all. Now, of course, it’s four pages longer.

Some more research has been done, too. I’d like to see a couple of documentaries filmed in the past four years but I can’t find a listing for them anywhere. I don’t think they’re anywhere near crucial enough to write to the production companies to ask where I might obtain copies, though.

Back From The Dead

… or from the bed, anyway. I am better, thank you all.

On the other hand, it looks like the dryer is sicker than I was. It should not take three sessions to dry a small load of socks and underthings. We’re looking into getting the vent cleaned professionally; that ought to help. In the meantime, the clothesline is seeing lots of time and I’ll be buying a wooden drying rack this week, something I’ve been putting off for two years now. If the line can’t be used, I’m going to put my foot down and limit everyone to one session in the dryer per load, then it’s being relegated to the drying rack. The waste of electricity is shameful.

Also, one of the funniest LJ icons I have seen in a while: a crop of a Mary Wollstonecraft portrait, with the words “I can has rights?” along the bottom.

Back To Bed

I would post a review of our wonderful weekend if I wasn’t headed back to bed because I’m so sick. Suffice it to say that I had a lovely day as a guest of Fearsclave and his enchanting wife on Sunday, so lovely that within an hour of being with them at their peaceful Fearsranch I virtually forgot I was ill and felt better than I had in a couple of days. There was good company and good drinking and it was very nice to see HRH bond with someone who likes throwing sharp pointy things and drinking excellent Scotch too. Then yesterday I got to watch Liam eat the last half of a Wild Willy’s chocolate-peanut butter ice cream cone and laughed so much that I felt immeasurably better in spirit, if not in body.

It took us thirty minutes to get the boy to the caregiver today, instead of ten. School’s back in session for everyone and their dog, evidently.

Happiest of birthdays to Pdaughter and Sandman7!

More later, maybe.