Oz-for grown ups

The first time I read Wicked, I lost my innocence.
The second time, I understood.

Oz is the same place it always was but seen through adult eyes.   Elphaba never was the villian we thought her and the heros were less noble than we supposed.

Son of a Witch broke my heart because Liir couldn't overcome his disadvantages.  He disappointed at every turn.

A Lion Among Men was everything I hoped for.  Answers, purpose, a path toward redemption. 

I haven't read Out of Oz yet.  I want to savor the satisfaction from the last book a little longer and I am not ready for the story to end.

Or perhaps, I am not ready to know how it ends. 

Unread

Sometimes it is the idea of the book that I fall in love with.  Some books I may never read but still they stir my imagination and provoke my dreams.

For the Love

When I was 13, Harlequin, Cartland and Regency romances replaced my childhood fairy tales.  I devoured them and just as quickly out grew them.  There is just one that I kept all this time.

 

Oh, it is the classic, boy meets girl, boy hates girl, girl hates boy.

They fall in love in spite of or because of that drama and tension.

The difference is the other 90% of the story. 

Katriona is a nurse, David is a doctor and they both work at a home for displaced children. 

The plot revolves around the sometimes happy and sometimes heartbreaking stories of the children. 

The climax involves a flood and a tragedy and yes, I cry every time. 

As far as romance goes, this one will always have a special place in my heart.

Le Cirque des Reves

Imagine a world where what is possible is limited only by imagination...

Where magic is simply a deeper understanding of the physical realm...

Two magicians engaged in an endless dual

Two proteges pitted against each other to the death

Only one can win

Only one can live

The venue

is the Circus

 

Omnia vincit amor



The Spirits of Christmas

A ghost story for Christmas?

 

Now, that is my kind of book.

The Wizard of Words

I was initially drawn to the luxurious texture of the cover.  Then I heard an interview with the author on NPR. He was so intelligent and witty (in the very best sense of the word), I said "If this man writes the way he talks, then I want to read everything he has ever written."

 

 

That being said, this book is a story, not a conversation, but intelligent and thought provoking all the same.   However, I was very  dissatisfied with the ending.

 

A stranger appears in the sultan's court claiming to be the child of the sultan's great aunt. Improbable and impossible, but the sultan is charmed and amused by the stranger so he allows him to spin out his tale.  The stranger takes too long and ultimately falls out of favor.  The sultan proclaims that man was a liar and proceeds to make up his own explanation of the tale which was studded with grains of truth amidst the lies.  I found the sultan's conclusion to be as unsatisfactory as the strangers.  It bothered me greatly at first but then I decided that I too would disregard both versions  offered up and imagine my own explanation.

 

If I ever get a chance to talk to Salman Rushdie, this is what I would ask him about.

 

*On another note, I first heard the term 'memory palace' in this story which contains a very beautiful illustration of concept.  Just recently, I heard the term mentioned on a BBC episode of Sherlock and my thoughts immediately flashed back to this book.*



Of Dwarves and Dragons

 The Hobbit, J.R.R.Tolkien 

The first time I read The Hobbit, I didn't really care for it.  I was probably too young, between ten and twelve.  In my teens, after I discovered and fell in love with the romance, chivalry and adventure of The Lord of the Rings trilogy, I came to appreciate the charm of the prequel.

I've read and read the entire set so many times the bindings have cracked and corners are missing from a few pages here and there (thanks to a literary cat).   It's ok, I know what the missing words are.

Following the Peter Jackson movies, fancy new editions proliferated and I thought about getting a shiny new set.  But there is something about the soft vellum feel of the worn pages, the gentle browning of the paper, and the suppleness of the cover, that makes me feel as though I am reading a ancient tome found in a forgotten corner of a historian's library.  I think I will keep my ragged set, after all "all that glitters is not gold".