A Last Wintery Reading

As with Spring coming to us, the wind told me so, it gives me time to read one of my favorite books, one last time before the end of Winter.

I knew a man who read Bleak House every Winter. I haven't read Bleak House. I haven't even watched the Masterpiece Theatre production of it, though it is on my que. I just kept thinking to myself, Winter is so bleak. Why read a book that already has bleak in the title? Yes, I know. Juvenile thinking, but it stuck.

But what I do try to read every winter is Farewell Miss Julie Logan by James Matthew (J.M.) Barrie. The subtitle A Wintry Tale just practically begs the reader to wait until the dark days and long nights.

I read this first in Glasgow, Scotland - a place of long nights and early days if I ever knew one. In the winter time the sun went up around 8am and was down by 4 at the latest. And we were in the southern section of the country. Never mind the Highlands. (On the opposite side of the spectrum, in summer the sun was up at 5am and it didn't get fully dark until about 10pm.)

I read this for my class Modern Scottish Literature - abbreviated to Mod Scot. That was where I first fell in love with this book. I didn't have my own copy; another international student and I shared a copy, and I think it eventually went back with her.

What makes this little gem so precious?

Barrie presents the story to us in first person narrative via diary. Rev. Adam Yestreen is in one of his first assignments as preacher, a place way up high in the Highlands. This is the kind of place where people come to visit in the summer, but leave before the fall sets in because once it snows, the glen is locked. There's no getting in or getting out. The wealthy English families before they leave, challenge the young Adam Yestreen to keep a diary of his first winter, saying that sometimes people go strange when they're locked up in the glen. (Didn't The Shining Teach us anything??)

So the thin novel/novella stands as that diary.

The backdrop of historical folklore such as the Jacobites, and the Young Pretender and in a culture where ghosts and the boogeymen are real, make this story a ghostly page turner, easily read in one evening.

This little piece is Barrie' final novel/novella masterpiece, published in 1932. Barrie died in 1937 of pneumonia. (The Boy David, a play written for Austrian Actress Elisabeth Bergner in 1936.) Yet it seems to be least well known.

To quote the bbc:

The novel maintains a powerful ambivalence, common to Scottish writing, between the spectral evocation of the haunted Scottish landscape and the powerful rendering of a fractured psyche torn by repressed desire and human isolation. This novel epitomises the best of Barrie’s work in which the condition of exile and the predicament of human isolation is the basis for the best of his fantasy and the most profound of his considerable psychological perception.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/scotland/arts/writingscotland/writers/j_m_barrie/works.shtml

It took me a good two years to track down the copy I have in my library. I found it hiding in an antiques store in Boston. The cover is a faded green with the title illustration in a ancient gold snowflakes that has now turned brassy with age. It's like holding friends with an old friend.

It was like a song that no one else had heard, that I kept humming the tune to. Today it's much more accessible, though still not commonly found.

While the Scots dialect that features so heavily in this piece may seem a bit off putting to readers, it does best to read the book out loud, or to say the words out loud and remember the Scots is largely phonetic. When all else fails, write down the word, and look it up.

There is such beauty in this book that I have never gotten tired of reading it.

To close, I shall give you a teaser.


from pg 1.

This is December One, 186_

I think it prudent to go no nearer to the date, in case what I am writing should take an ill turn or fall into curious hands. I need not be so guarded about the weather. It is a night of sudden blasts that half an hour ago threw my window at me. They went skirling from room to room, like officers of the law seeking to seize and deliver to justice the venturesome Scots minister who is sitting here ready to impeach all wraiths and warlocks. There was another blast the now. I believe I could rope the winds of the manse to my bidding to-night, and by running from door to door, opening and shutting, become the conductor of a gey sinister orchestra.

Early Spring

I smelled it a few days ago. Like the subtlety of a new spice in a familiar dish, it was enough to make my hairs stand on end and to breathe in a bit deeper.

It was Spring.

Something in the freshness of the air, the melting snow mingling with mud, the smell of the water as it dripped from the tin roof. I smelled Spring. Just a hint of it, but enough to remind me that it's on its way. Just enough to remind me that winter does end.

The forecast for the next few days says sun, and temperatures in the 50's.

Time for the sap to start running, and the other ritual of early spring to commence: heavy woodsmoke, late nights, treks through the snow up to the woods. Maple Syrup Season.

The front porch will fill with the sweet smelling smoke, and soon my kitchen stove will be a mess, from at least one boil over. But the result, the dark amber syrup, will be worth it.

Our neighbbors up the road a bit in Springville/Dimock area do an open house every year mid March. They open up their operation and share witht he public their skills at making yarn, spinning, carding, the animals, and of course Maple Syrup. That's up at WoodLoch's.

Some other friends our by Lackawanna State Park do organic Christmas trees, and home made maple syrup as part of their farm's operations. Their operation is much larger than ours, and their evaporator pan (the pan you put the sap in and boil and boil and boil - all the while it evaporates, hence the name) is much larger than ours. Probably the size of our picnic table. They get amuch finer quality of syrup there.. When we hug each other then, we all smell sweet and smokey.

Little Things to Make Me Happy - Sesame Street and Dr. Horrible.

Sometimes in the morning of PBS Kids.org, I find something that makes me smile.

This morning it was Neil Patrick Harris singing as the Fairy Shoe Person. Yes, it is Sesame Street. So it's not overly complex. But It's Neil Patrick Harris singing. And the man can sing.




This isn't his first time singing. He did RENT. He did Cabaret as the Emcee.

But he also did Dr. Horrible's Sing A Long Blog. Done during the writer's strike, Joss Whedon (of Serenity,Firefly, and Buffy fame) wrote it, called up a few of his favorites (Nathan Fillion who you can see now in Castle, Neil Patrick Harris, and Felicia Day) and said hey let's do this. So they did. Released entirely online, for free. (It's now available for purchase on ITunes, or amazon.com). A musical about an aspiring super villain, his blog entries, his crush and the super hero who thwarts his every move. And the music is fantastic.


With My Freeze Ray




Brand New Day



just some fun for a cold winter day.

In Praise of YA Fiction

it's been a bad book week for me. I just can't keep to one book, and I'm finding it harder to get involved with those books that do hold my attention. Even the children's books are too long for me. Tragic. Maybe it's the weather. I'm too cold to think, and my reading brain cells are frozen. Maybe it's just life getting out of control - chasing a toddler who never naps anymore, a house under construction so finding things is more like a grand scale scavenger hunt (if you knew my house and the endless crannies hidden away, you'd understand). it seems i spend more time cooking, tidying, chasing said child, than reading.

so my reports have been tardy.

but the ones that have been able to hold my attention have been superb. Laura Wiess' How It Ends was nothing like what I expected. I expected (fearfully) a teenager's angst filled confessions, turned into a complex love story about secrets, and the ultimate decisions we make for love. It left me positively breathless. The cover is very understated. Just a dried brown leaf curling slightly at the edges, on a white cover with the title in script. But don't let that fool you. Sometimes the more plain the cover, the better the book. (Sometimes not.)

Then I picked up Revolution by Jennifer Donnelly. I knew nothing about it. I didn't even know it was waiting for me. But the great thing about getting to know the librarians, is that sometimes, there are little surprises waiting for you at the front desk (very unlike the little surprises your potty training -resistant child leaves around the house. In the crannies and dark corners. or on the computer chair while watching Pingu).

Revolution is one of those delightful surprises. It has everything that I like. Mystery, a sense of urgency, a slight paranormal feel to it (very slight), and excellent music. The mystery that it takes on is that of the Lost Dauphin of France (Louis XVII whose mother was Marie Antoinette). The soundtrack though not audible to us necessarily, is still pretty excellent. Morrissey, the Smiths, the Ramones, Bach, Mozart. All of these and more make appearances either in discussion, or in lyrics.

Which takes me to my next thought. When I was growing up (that makes me sound old) the Young Adult Fiction that I remember, consisted of The Babysitter's Clubs, Sweet Valley Twins (later Sweet Valley High...) Nancy Drew, and that sort of thing. I did a lot of the Dragon Lance Fantasy Series. That was where I hung most of the time because I didn't really like the Nancy Drew or Baby Sitter's.

My point in saying this is, what a great wealth we have today for Young Adult Fiction. I am constantly amazed at the quality and the exceptional stories, complexities of issues brought up (but not in an After School Special sort of way). There is nothing lightly written, or of lower quality. Some of the best books I have read of late have been Young Adult Fiction novels. Just a couple years ago, I wouldn't dare admit that. But no more.

Of course there are still books that are less than great. Certainly. But the stigma of YA fiction being of lower quality is definitely lifting.

Just think about the Hunger Games phenomenon. Cassandra Clare's Mortal Devices series. Neil Gaiman's Coraline. Harry Potter. Percy Jackson. The Uglies and Pretties Series. The Forest of Hands and Teeth. Hush, Hush. The Looking Glass Wars. Eragon.......(Not to mention the sparkly vampires.)

Good Reads.com is a great resource for browsing the titles and reading a myriad of reviews. It's like Pandora.com for books. Love it.