I have completed A Long Way Gone, discussed more fully in the last installment of recommended reading. It possessed a poignant ending. As I turned the pages, Beah's personal tragedy kept mounting, until it was inconceivable that a mere teenager could take any more hardship. He was eventually forced to flee Sierra Leone, at great personal risk and high cost, after his uncle's family was...well, I won't spoil it. Suffice it to say that A Long Way Gone is a powerful book. It's powerful in a sense which no other book I've read can approach. It is heartrending on perhaps the same level as Night, by Elie Wiesel. It portrays the absolute worst of what human beings can do to one another, and even to themselves. It is both sickening and saddening...yet not without hope.
I'm more than half done with The World Turned Upside Down, that splendid science-fiction anthology, and have only two stories left to read in The Best of H.P. Lovecraft: Bloodcurdling Tales of Horror and the Macabre. And make no mistake: the tales are bloodcurdling. I have encountered few writers who make my skin crawl in abject terror. Even Stephen King, whom I admire immensely, merely makes the bile rise to my throat, and has perhaps caused me a few nightmares. H.P. Lovecraft evinces an overwhelming, universal sense of horror that leaves a sensitive reader wide-eyed, pale and sweaty. Though I have been rendered wide-eyed and pale, I have yet to break out in a cold sweat. Then again, I still have two of Lovecraft's most seminal stories to read: The Shadow Over Innsmouth and The Shadow Out of Time. I'm a grown man and Lovecraft's shorter tales like The Haunter of the Dark, The Dunwich Horror and The Thing on the Doorstep made me turn on all the lights and go jumping at shadows. I can only imagine what these last, lengthy stories will do to my fertile imagination. Lovecraft is one of the best writers I've ever read, for one simple reason: he knew what he was doing. He had each story's plot in mind the whole time he was writing it, and he knew where to lead the action to reach the terrifying climax. Along the way, he masterfully built suspense and dropped tantalizingly ominous hints relevant to the insidious denouement. He was also a literate and intelligent writer, whose prose is elegant and erudite, and whose vocabulary makes me run to the dictionary or encyclopedia every two or three pages. Furthermore, his imagination was limitless. He envisioned an inherently unknown, nefarious, multidimensional multiverse filled with monstrous evil. Anyone who solved the mysteries of this universe would go mad with horror. Spawned trillions of years ago, gigantic half-ethereal creatures from the outer dark, who once held sordid sway over the Earth and the galaxy, slumber uneasily in the depths of our oceans or behind our nearest stars, waiting to wake and extend their fibrous grasp once again. Innumerable volumes of profane arcana and obscene ritual, like the Necronomicon and the Pnakotic Manuscripts, passed down through millennia by these evil gods and their inhuman minions, lie forgotten in ancient tombs or dusty towers, holding their sickening alien secrets for some innocent eye. Disgusting, bestial ceremonies and barbarous sacrifices are carried out in forgotten catacombs and dusky swamps, breathing life into these ancient monsters, keeping their potent legends alive. Phalanxes of horrific things lurk in the dark and pounce upon unsuspecting (or willing) humans. Though he may have been a tad racist, H.P. Lovecraft was a talented horror writer who knew his trade and his stock-in-trade. I highly recommend him.
As an aside, I'd like to reiterate that the more I read William Zinsser's On Writing Well and reread The Elements of Style by William Strunk, Jr. and E.B. White, the more humbled I become. There are things in the latter that I have unforgivably forgotten and things in the former that I have never suspected. More fool me.
I started in yesterday on The Book of Five Rings (as written in Japanese at left). Purportedly, it is a discussion of martial arts, particularly kenjutsu, or swordsmanship. It is written by one of the foremost masters of the art, one of Japan's most famous (or infamous) swordsmen, Miyamoto Musashi. I've read the first two pages and already my mind's been changed about both Musashi himself and Japanese martial arts. From what I understand, Musashi, who died in the seventeenth century, was a renowned swordsman and martial arts instructor. He never lost any of the dozens of duels he fought, even though he fought some of them with a wooden sword. He was supposedly a master of the two-sword style, with both a full-length sword and a short sword (or wakizashi). His legacy is less than flattering. It is rumored that he never shaved, never bathed, never combed his hair, and had a disfiguring skin condition.
No matter. Musashi didn't care about any of that. Whereas some are merely practitioners of the martial arts, Musashi was a true martial artist. He practiced both physical and mental control in combat, and strove for perfection in every aspect of his life. That included something as simple as calligraphy (which is why I included the above image of Japanese kanji, instead of, say, an image of the book cover or a painting of Musashi). His legend—and his track record—impressed me so much that I decided to use him as one of the protagonists in my novel. There was a hitch, however. I knew nothing more about the man than what I've told you. Ultimately I decided to buy his book, his magnum opus on swordsmanship that many have touted as a road map to personal success in life. From the first pages Musashi defines martial arts, not as a simplistic mindset such as "being prepared to die," but as a way to serve your master, serve yourself, and establish social standing.
That took me completely by surprise. I'd always thought of martial arts as a skill demanded only in war, or perhaps in recreation. Now this scruffy, centuries-dead ronin comes along and tells me it can be used to ascend the social ladder?
I can only wonder what else lies in store for me. The volume is divided into five sections: the Earth Scroll, the Water Scroll, the Fire Scroll, the Wind Scroll, and the Emptiness Scroll. Each encapsulates different aspects of Musashi's swordsmanship technique and philosophy, except for the last scroll, which discusses other schools. Furthermore, the book's chapters have positively titillating titles, such as "The Way of the Long Sword," "Stabbing the Face," "A Stand against Many Opponents," "Moving Shadows," "Knocking the Heart Out," and "Being Like a Rock Wall."
Oh, goody, he said, rubbing his hands. I'll keep you posted.
There remains only tell you that I've placed yet another order to Amazon.com, despite my recent dismissal from my job and my slowly dwindling accounts. This particular order was made possible by a generous birthday gift from my grandparents, I'll have you know. Among other things (like the excellent war movie Battleground and a few more volumes of One Piece), I'm expecting Louisa May Alcott's Little Women and The Memoirs of Wild Bill Hickok, by renowned Western writer Richard Matheson. I'm trying to catch up on the classics with Little Women, and Memoirs can only help me get a better idea of Hickok, the other protagonist in my novel. Though a work of fiction, the book eschews the fanciful, heroic light in which the ne'er-do-well lawman is cast, and focuses instead on the rawness and ignominy of his life, as re-imagined by Matheson. It's told from a first-person perspective, as is The Book of Five Rings. Who knows what kind of insight I'll gain? It can't hurt to read it. Like I always say, I'll read anything if I think I can learn from it. Except perhaps for the Necronomicon, written by the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred, detailing the hideous secrets of the dark cult of Cthulhu and a great many other things too awful to mention. That might not be healthy at all. It might even frighten me to death.
Lovecraft is one of the best writers I've ever read, for one simple reason: he knew what he was doing. He had each story's plot in mind the whole time he was writing it, and he knew where to lead the action to reach the terrifying climax. Along the way, he masterfully built suspense and dropped tantalizingly ominous hints relevant to the insidious denouement. He was also a literate and intelligent writer, whose prose is elegant and erudite, and whose vocabulary makes me run to the dictionary or encyclopedia every two or three pages. Furthermore, his imagination was limitless. He envisioned an inherently unknown, nefarious, multidimensional multiverse filled with monstrous evil. Anyone who solved the mysteries of this universe would go mad with horror. Spawned trillions of years ago, gigantic half-ethereal creatures from the outer dark, who once held sordid sway over the Earth and the galaxy, slumber uneasily in the depths of our oceans or behind our nearest stars, waiting to wake and extend their fibrous grasp once again. Innumerable volumes of profane arcana and obscene ritual, like the Necronomicon and the Pnakotic Manuscripts, passed down through millennia by these evil gods and their inhuman minions, lie forgotten in ancient tombs or dusty towers, holding their sickening alien secrets for some innocent eye. Disgusting, bestial ceremonies and barbarous sacrifices are carried out in forgotten catacombs and dusky swamps, breathing life into these ancient monsters, keeping their potent legends alive. Phalanxes of horrific things lurk in the dark and pounce upon unsuspecting (or willing) humans. Though he may have been a tad racist, H.P. Lovecraft was a talented horror writer who knew his trade and his stock-in-trade. I highly recommend him.
As an aside, I'd like to reiterate that the more I read William Zinsser's On Writing Well and reread The Elements of Style by William Strunk, Jr. and E.B. White, the more humbled I become. There are things in the latter that I have unforgivably forgotten and things in the former that I have never suspected. More fool me.
I started in yesterday on The Book of Five Rings (as written in Japanese at left). Purportedly, it is a discussion of martial arts, particularly kenjutsu, or swordsmanship. It is written by one of the foremost masters of the art, one of Japan's most famous (or infamous) swordsmen, Miyamoto Musashi. I've read the first two pages and already my mind's been changed about both Musashi himself and Japanese martial arts. From what I understand, Musashi, who died in the seventeenth century, was a renowned swordsman and martial arts instructor. He never lost any of the dozens of duels he fought, even though he fought some of them with a wooden sword. He was supposedly a master of the two-sword style, with both a full-length sword and a short sword (or wakizashi). His legacy is less than flattering. It is rumored that he never shaved, never bathed, never combed his hair, and had a disfiguring skin condition.
No matter. Musashi didn't care about any of that. Whereas some are merely practitioners of the martial arts, Musashi was a true martial artist. He practiced both physical and mental control in combat, and strove for perfection in every aspect of his life. That included something as simple as calligraphy (which is why I included the above image of Japanese kanji, instead of, say, an image of the book cover or a painting of Musashi). His legend—and his track record—impressed me so much that I decided to use him as one of the protagonists in my novel. There was a hitch, however. I knew nothing more about the man than what I've told you. Ultimately I decided to buy his book, his magnum opus on swordsmanship that many have touted as a road map to personal success in life. From the first pages Musashi defines martial arts, not as a simplistic mindset such as "being prepared to die," but as a way to serve your master, serve yourself, and establish social standing.
That took me completely by surprise. I'd always thought of martial arts as a skill demanded only in war, or perhaps in recreation. Now this scruffy, centuries-dead ronin comes along and tells me it can be used to ascend the social ladder?
I can only wonder what else lies in store for me. The volume is divided into five sections: the Earth Scroll, the Water Scroll, the Fire Scroll, the Wind Scroll, and the Emptiness Scroll. Each encapsulates different aspects of Musashi's swordsmanship technique and philosophy, except for the last scroll, which discusses other schools. Furthermore, the book's chapters have positively titillating titles, such as "The Way of the Long Sword," "Stabbing the Face," "A Stand against Many Opponents," "Moving Shadows," "Knocking the Heart Out," and "Being Like a Rock Wall."
Oh, goody, he said, rubbing his hands. I'll keep you posted.
There remains only tell you that I've placed yet another order to Amazon.com, despite my recent dismissal from my job and my slowly dwindling accounts. This particular order was made possible by a generous birthday gift from my grandparents, I'll have you know. Among other things (like the excellent war movie Battleground and a few more volumes of One Piece), I'm expecting Louisa May Alcott's Little Women and The Memoirs of Wild Bill Hickok, by renowned Western writer Richard Matheson. I'm trying to catch up on the classics with Little Women, and Memoirs can only help me get a better idea of Hickok, the other protagonist in my novel. Though a work of fiction, the book eschews the fanciful, heroic light in which the ne'er-do-well lawman is cast, and focuses instead on the rawness and ignominy of his life, as re-imagined by Matheson. It's told from a first-person perspective, as is The Book of Five Rings. Who knows what kind of insight I'll gain? It can't hurt to read it. Like I always say, I'll read anything if I think I can learn from it. Except perhaps for the Necronomicon, written by the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred, detailing the hideous secrets of the dark cult of Cthulhu and a great many other things too awful to mention. That might not be healthy at all. It might even frighten me to death.
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