I’ve just posted Chapters 12 and 13 of my novel Through Darkest Zymurgia!
I’ve received reports that the background color has been coming out bright yellow on some people’s browsers; it’s supposed to be a muted parchment color. So I’ve tweaked the settings a bit, and for now Zymurgia will have a plain white background. So much for atmosphere.
At bedtime, Jane asked James (our almost-four-year-old) whether he enjoyed our vacation or not.
He said he really loved our vacation, and he really loved Australia.
Hmmm. Dad leaves home to go to Australia. James leaves home, why, he must be going to Australia too!
For the record, we drove to Monterey, California, where we spent three days, and then to Sacramento, California, where we spent three days, and then we came home. You can’t drive to Australia.
Monterey was very nice. The Embassy Suites hotel in Monterey isn’t really in Monterey; it’s just over the border in Seaside. But we could see the ocean from our window, and the road that passed in front of the hotel took us to straight to Fisherman’s Wharf, Cannery Row, and the Monterey Bay Aquarium.
I have to hand it to the Monterey Embassy Suites and its staff–they’ve got families all scoped out (and there were lots of families staying there). The breakfast was good every morning, they had a special kid-friendly buffet in the evening (which we didn’t take advantage of), and there was a flier in our rooms telling us about all the local events that would be fun for kids, including the Harry Potter parties the night before.
Mostly, we went to the Aquarium. The concierge set us up with special tickets–good for two day’s admittance at the same price as normal tickets. Given the kids’ capacity for two hours’ worth of excitement a day, that turned out to be an outstanding deal. I’d thought we’d covered most of the Aquarium the first day, and that we were just going back to see some odds and ends. It turns out that they’d added a whole new wing since we were there seven or eight years ago, dedicated to the life of the Outer Bay. It was filled with exquisitely displayed jellyfish, really quite shockingly beautiful (pun not intended), and also a massive tank filled mostly with tuna, along with a couple of sea turtles, a hammerhead shark, and a few other things. It was gorgeous, and Jane and I just stood there wondering at it for at least ten minutes, while David and James kept trying to pull us away.
Do you have any idea how big tuna really are? I think of fish as being rather flat in cross-section, but tuna are big, fat suckers, like scaly dolphins.
On the Monday afternoon, we hired a babysitter from a service with an office at the hotel, and went to walk around Carmel, just the two of us, feeling dreadfully and joyfully extravagant. Carmel has changed a bit, and the neat bookstore in the complex at the top of Ocean Street has gone, but it was fun to walk around the galleries, admiring some things and laughing at others.
On the Tuesday, we did the pretty part of the 17 Mile Drive, from Pacific Grove to Carmel (with David asking, “Where’s our new hotel?” every fifteen minutes), and then headed toward Sacramento. State highway 68 to US 101 north to state highway 156, which passes through the little town of San Juan Bautista, home of the mission of the same name.
I’m not sure I’d ever been to San Juan Bautista before, despite having driven within fifteen miles of it on any number of occasions; but Jane had suggested Mexican food for lunch, and I saw a sign for a place called “Dona Esther’s”. We went, and it was outstanding. I had a shredded beef enchilada and a big tamale, with the best Mexican rice and beans I’ve ever had. It wasn’t a fancy place, and it wasn’t fancy food, but darn it was good. I’d gladly go back. Then we walked over and looked through the Mission, to which I’ll give a mixed review. The grounds and the Mission museum are looking pretty ratty. I don’t think there’s a whole lot of money coming in. But the sanctuary itself was well-maintained and spotless (and beautiful), and there were other signs that the parish is alive and healthy.
And then we drove on to Sacramento. But that’s another post.
Now the story can be told.
It so happens that what was keeping me busy over the last week was being on vacation with my family. (But you were posting anyway! Have laptop, will travel. But that’s a later post.) I have a certain delicacy about announcing to the world at large that my home is going to be unguarded for a week, which is why I didn’t say anything previously.
But anyway, I spent the last week vacationing with my wife and my three little kids. One of the big questions Jane and I had going in was how much we should plan on doing each day; now I know the answer: about two hours worth.
Except for the first day and last day, when we were driving most of the day, our vacation days went pretty much like this:
And that’s how pretty much every day went. For the kids it was exciting enough just being away from home, staying at a hotel, and getting to go swimming. The nifty things we planned were mostly secondary. Go figure.
James Lileks, he of the “Bleat” and the well-turned phrase, has a wife, and his wife has just lost her job. (As assistant attorney general of Michigan, for goodness sake.) We like James Lileks; we like his writing, and we want him to keep writing. He’s got a tip jar over on his site; as Iam Hamet said this morning, why not go put something in it?
Update: Minnesota, I meant Minnesota, I really do know the difference between Minnesota and Michigan. Sigh.
WARNING: Possible Spoilers Ahead! Proceed at your own risk.
OK, I stayed up until after midnight last night to finish this, and I
went away well-satisfied. It was great–the best Potter yet. Jane’s
reading it now, and it’s taking her far longer to get up than usual.
The kids are too young to care, and of course are completely oblivious to
the whole thing.
For once I have to disagree with Ian Hamet. In my review
of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, I said that I was
dissatisfied with the character development in book; in his comment on
that review, he said I’d probably be similarly dissatisfied with this one.
Not so! All of the major characters do a certain amount of growing, there
are many more minor characters, and we get a much better sense of them.
I was especially impressed with yinny Weasely and Neville Longbottom.
As Deb said, the kids are finally beginning to act like teenagers, as we
see with Harry and Cho Chang. But not only are the hormones raging, they
are also beginning to take responsibility–the establishment of
Dumbledore’s Army is a case in point, and a juicy one.
And then there’s Professor Umbridge–what a delightfully evil creation
she is. Not for her the deed grandiose; instead, she’s a master of
bureaucratic evil, of the death of a thousand cuts. Rowling understands
that evil can be most effective when it is small, stupid, and just plain
mean, especially when it is cloaked with righteousness and respectability.
I’m thinking of Professor Umbridge’s detention punishment: writing
sentences with a pen that painfully draws blood from the back of your
hand.
But Umbridge is not only arrogant, she’s also stupid. By alienating the
faculty as well as the student body she assures her downfall. And wasn’t
it delightful to watch Professor McGonagle give Peeves hints on the
proper way to unscrew a crystal chandelier from the ceiling?
Indeed, there were so many wonderful moments that I hesitate to list them all:
the organizational meeting for Dumbledore’s Army; the moment when
Dumbledore announces that he’s found a new Divination instructor; the way
the students and faculty of Hogwarts join forces against
Professor Umbridge; the battle at the Ministry of Magic; Malfoy’s final
comeuppance on the Hogwarts Express.
The one thing I disliked was the lack of any kind of redemption or
forgiveness for anybody. For example, Harry’s supposed to be
great-hearted; but he isn’t great-hearted enough to forgive Snape, even
after learning the root of Snape’s dislike. He’s unhappy at having his
image of his father darkened, but he has no sympathy for his father’s
victim. It’s likely that Snape would have rejected any advances of
friendship or reconciliation that Harry might have made…but I do think
Harry should have tried.
Richard Dawkins, the well-known scientist and apologist for the theory of evolution, has recently written an article entitled “The Future Looks Bright“, which I found via Craig Ceely’s blog. In it, he tries to raise our consciousness about atheism:
Paul Geisert and Mynga Futrell, of Sacramento, California, have set out to coin a new word, a new “gay”. Like gay, it should be a noun hijacked from an adjective, with its original meaning changed but not too much. Like gay, it should be catchy: a potentially prolific meme. Like gay, it should be positive, warm, cheerful, bright.
Bright? Yes, bright. Bright is the word, the new noun. I am a bright. You are a bright. She is a bright. We are the brights. Isn’t it about time you came out as a bright? Is he a bright? I can’t imagine falling for a woman who was not a bright.
A “bright” is someone who subscribes to “a world view that is free of supernaturalism and mysticism.” I’m writing about this, because it’s a word that shows signs of catching on here in the blogosphere. And because it’s a word that (quite unlike “gay”) was purposely chosen to be insulting to those who (like me) espouse some kind of religious faith.
Apparently, because I am a Christian and believe that Christ died on the cross that my sins might be forgiven, I am not a “bright”. In fact, I must therefore be “not so bright”. Or perhaps even “dim”.
Like gay, it should be positive, warm, cheerful, bright.
One might add “arrogant”. If “bright” didn’t have the prior connotation of “intelligent”, with the implication that non-brights are unintelligent, Dawkins and his ilk would never have chosen it. The word “gay” carries no such freight.
I’ll be very curious to see if Steven den Beste weighs in on this. Steven is an atheist, as he discussed recently in a series of posts; he’s also a gentleman.
In the meantime, for any of my readers who might self-identify themselves as “brights”, you might wish to consider whom you’re insulting by so doing. For most of you, it’s probably a larger group than you think.
Update: Rude, that’s the word I was looking for. Rude, ill-mannered, uncouth, discourteous, take your pick. Of course, if that’s how you want to be perceived….
This is the third and most recent in Farland’s Runelords series; there’s
has to be at least one more to finish the story. It follows directly
after Brotherhood of the Wolf, which ended on a really down
note, and mostly continues the bleak mood.
Not a lot happens that’s conclusive: King Gaborn and his crew
continue to harry the reaver army they defeated at the climax of the
previous novel; Averan, a young girl introduced in the previous book,
becomes the apprentice of Binnesman the Earth Warden, to no one’s
surprise; Gaborn sends agents to various other kingdoms; Raj Ahten
returns home to Indhopal, where he’s faced with a number of threats to
his rule, including a bigger, nastier reaver army; Binnesman’s “wylde”
continues to grow in power and intelligence; the Darkling Glory summoned
by Raj Ahten in that last book is (possibly) revealed as something much
nastier still; in the end, nothing at all is settled.
In short, Wizardborn carries the saga along adequately well (I
enjoyed reading it) but doesn’t have much of an ending and provides no
real sense of closure. It does, however, set a number of interesting
trains in motion; I’ll be curious to see them all collide in the next episode.
Lynn Sislo has just posted the third installment in her Beginner’s Guide to Classical Music. Good stuff!
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, by J.K. Rowling
As all the world knows, June 21st was Harry Potter day throughout the
English-speaking world. I’ve not yet managed to get a copy of the latest
tome, but in preparation I re-read
Harry Potter and Goblet of Fire, which I’d only read once
before, when it in turn was brand new.
I liked it better this time. I’m in a lazier mood, maybe, but recently
I’ve been tending to read books at their own pace, slowly, rather than
rushing through them as fast as I can. Read slowly, I found it more
entertaining, especially the scenes toward the end. It’s a good yarn.
The character development is a little lacking, except for the major
players. Harry spends a good bit of the book, we are told, fascinated by
Cho Chang, who plays on the Ravensclaw quidditch team. We aren’t told
much about why he finds Cho attractive, just that he does. (Of course,
looking back on my years as teenage boy, perhaps that’s realistic.)
Anyway, I’m looking forward to the next one…when I can find a copy.
Tracy over at Book Addict has proven that mystery novels are an addictive substance per the DSM-IV criteria.
The View from the Foothills 