UK/AU/NZ

The “Meet the Minor Players” post features the minor characters in The Wall Of Night series because:

“I think it’s the presence of the smaller characters that “makes” a story, creating texture around the main points of view.”

~ Helen Lowe (from my Legend Award Finalist’s Interview)

Sometimes, though, the minor character may exist in the story’s past while shaping its present. And sometimes, the character may be not one, but two individuals.

Both circumstances that apply to Pha’Rho-l-Ynor, in Daughter of Blood.

~*~

USA

Pha’Rho-l-Ynor: A Sea House navigator, lost four hundred years before.

Pha’Rho-l-Ynor: A Sea House ship, lost four hundred years ago with all hands, including its navigator. 

...he spoke the words that were fire in his throat. “…My mother was a weatherworker and navigator, called Pha’Rho-l-Ynor after the ship of the same name. Through her and the name I bear, I brought the essence of of Yelusin, once contained in the ship, Pha’Rho-l-Ynor, back to the Sea Keep.”

~ from © Daughter of Blood, The Wall Of Night Book Three – Chapter 61, Old Blood

I’m keenly conscious you’re all waiting for a book update, and that I said “soon” in January yet here we are, in the last week of April and I’m still saying “not quite yet.”

Yarp, still locked in that writing tower of doom & destiny…
art by Peter Fitzpatrick

The Wall muse, as you may have gathered, is more than a mite cantankerous, so saying “soon” was probably overly bold, because ever since then it’s been 2.5 steps back for every 3 forward. And what appeared to be just a few puzzle pieces to fit together, has proven to be altogether more challenging.

“Just a little stream to skip across,” I thought…

A circumstance that exercises me every bit as much as it does you! And keeps me in that writing tower!! Nonetheless, the upside is that consistent half step forward, which is keeping progress on the plus side of the ledger.

And although I do have a weather, and somewhat apprehensive eye on Mt Parnassus* as I type this, I also have all digits pretzelled (although no firm promises for exactitude, “because muses”) that I’ll be posting the long-awaited update very shortly.

“To the muses, that they may be kind” — Calliope, Muse of Epic Poetry, by Giuseppe Fagnani, Metropolitan Museum of Art

*Traditionally, Mt Parnassus was the main home of the muses. All of which I've written about 
in more detail here.

The ANZAC stands for “Australia and New Zealand Army Corp”, and ANZAC Day in NZ commemorates New Zealanders that have served and died in war, most significantly WW1 and WW2.

It’s a day of remembrance, and for honouring service, sacrifice and community, but also, for many, a day for reflecting on the importance of peace.

ANZAC Memorial, Richmond 2022

Although ANZAC stems from the Australian and NZ forces that went fought in the ill-fated Gallipoli campaign in Turkey, its symbol is the Flanders poppy from the European battlefields of WW1 — which is (I believe) universal throughout the (British) Commonwealth of Nations.

I have posted on several aspects of ANZAC Day before, chiefly but not exclusively from a literary perspective, so if you’re interested in reading more, I’ve collated the links below. I particularly note ANZAC Day: April 25, under Commentary, and The ANZAC Memorial and the Words of M. Kemal Atatürk under Commemoration, in terms of the significance of the day.

The Atatürk Memorial, Wellington NZ

Poetry:

NZEF Trooper 203453 by Leigh Vickridge

Ellen’s Vigil by Lorna Staveley Anker

Armistice by Lorna Staveley Anker

Short Fiction:

A Peek Inside The Fountain

Commentary & Review:

ANZAC Day: April 25

ANZAC Day and the NZ Novel

ANZAC Day and NZ Poetry

Some ANZAC Themed NZ Children’s Books

ANZAC Diary: A Nonentity in Khaki by Anonymous

Commemoration

The ANZAC Memorial and the Words of M. Kemal Atatürk

ANZAC Memorial (Inglewood)

Today is Easter Monday and a public holiday, so rather than writing something new, I thought I’d reshare my post from this very date in 2016 — which turns out to be a dragon quote from Thornspell, so doubly fun. 😀

“Rue … was nowhere to be seen as he turned and stepped toward the fire. He snatched another glance back, in case he had missed her, and stopped short as a huge red and golden dragon soared out of the twisting streams of energy and reality. Sigismund stared, sure he must be delirious—or really dreaming now—and then the dragon and everything else disappeared as fire roared around him.”

~ Chapter 9, Substance and Shadow

You know, the Ray Bradbury 1000 nights in which he suggested reading a poem, a short story, and an essay every night.

You may also recall that I’ve had a l’il help from m’friends with a poetry chapbook and two short fiction anthologies from Scotland.

Sadly, I must confess to already falling short of the three per night. O-o!

Happily however, so far I am managing one per night — with a few classics, such as Robert Frost’s Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening, and William Carlos Williams’ This Is Just to Say, along with John Masefield’s Cargoes and Sea Fever, interspersing the Scottish works. It is, after all, always good to revisit old friends.

In terms of the chapbook, Ten Poems From Scotland, I have now read four of the ten:

• Mouse skeleton by Jason Watts
• Re-reading Katherine Mansfield’s ‘Bliss and Other Stories’ by Douglas Dunn
• Etching of a Line of Trees by John Glenday
• Brendon Gallacher by Jackie Kay

Mostly, but not completely in the order they appear — and the poets all new names to me, which adds to their interest.

In terms of the Blether, I have read four of these as well: three short fictions:

• Squeak by Lindz McLeod
• Crossing the Bridge by Kirsty Souter
• Cordless by Catherine Wilson

and an essay:

Blether by Nikesh Shukla

I’ve enjoyed all of them, but I think the last may be my favourite currently, if only ‘by a nose.’ 😀

Although not sure how I’ll go on the entire 1000 days (or 1001 nights), anything that encourages revisiting old friends and trying the new feels like a goodness.

Last week I shared an idea on reading from the great Ray Bradbury. I also shared that I considered his writing influential — and remain in awe of the prescience of many of the ideas explored through his writing.

But when it comes to gorgeous words, it’s hard to beat this:

“Bees do have a smell, you know, and if they don’t they should, for their feet are dusted with spices from a million flowers.”

~ Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine (1957)

So-o, awa’ aways back on Monday, I shared an idea from the great Ray Bradbury about reading a poem, a short story, and an essay every night for “the next thousand nights.”

Why not 1001, I ponder — it is, after all, traditional. However, one thousand it is. 😀

And I’m off to a flying start, because recent visitors from Scotland came bearing the following gifts:

Ten poems from Scotland

Selected and introduced by Don Paterson

This is a chapbook featuring ten poems penned by Scottish poets, and published by Candlestick Press. Taking a peep within, I’m pretty sure I can manage a poem a night…

Blether 

Blether is an anthology of short fictions on the theme of that great Scottish word, “blether.” It was produced by the Scottish Book Trust for Book Week Scotland. Being micro fiction, or short short stories, many are of comparable length to a poem. So again, I think I could add a wee blether to the reading of a poem*, every night.

Tales From The Ruins

Tales From The Ruins, subtitled A Post-Apocalyptic Anthology, comprises fourteen short stories of “…a world in ruins” that are also “intimate and moving accounts” of what might be if the worst, in terms of environmental catastrophe, pandemics, or cataclysmic war, should occur.

Best of all, one of those short stories was penned by one of my visitors: Help, Scotland by Malcolm Timperley. The stories are varied in size, but I could probably manage most in an evening.

All this, of course, assumes one’s evenings have space for poetry and short stories, as well as a spot o’ blether — but if not, it may be time to make some. Especially since they are very short. 🙂

~*~

*Maybe not Paradise Lost or The Rime of the Ancient Mariner tho'--those are epic fantasy-length 
verses. :D

I’m a Ray Bradbury fan. No, not just Fahrenheit 451 — though it’s a brilliant book and also (sadly) very topical right now — but also short story collections like The Golden Apples of the Sun.

I read it a long time ago, but still think about several of the stories, so I guess that counts as “influential.”

So I was very interested to spot this Bradbury quote on reading, oot thar in interwebs land. It was featured by a T’verse inhabitant, Boze The Library Owl, aka @SketchesByBoze. (You all get the Dickens reference, right? 😀 )

Waddya reckon? Are you game? It’s definitely an interesting idea…

It’s that time — and having slipped over April, I’ve landed on April 2 with another “Great Leaders in Speculative Fiction” on the Supernatural Underground.

This month’s leader is Pyanfar Chanur, from CJ Cherryh’s The Pride of Chanur and the subsequent Compact Space trilogy: Chanur’s Venture, The Kif Strike Back, and Chanur’s Homecoming.

To find out why I believe she rocks the great leadership stakes, just click on the link and enjoy. 😀

Pyanfar Chanur and The Pride of Chanur

As promised in post #1, this series is going to look at some of my personal favourites among book openings, starting with the classics. The word classic and Charles Dickens are, of course, synonymous, but when it comes to openings he definitely has some chops.

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way—“

I believe it mostly speaks for itself, but if you’re wondering what in particular speaks to me as a reader, look to the rhythm of the text, and the rolling flow of the words.

I also draw your attention to the use of repetition in creating that rhythm, which also creates a sense of breathlessness and buildup, anticipating the events to come in the book (the French Revolution) — and how Dickens reinforces the rhythm by breaking it, The passage has given us twinned times, ages, epochs, and seasons, before we come to the double opposites of “the spring of hope” and “winter of despair.”

The repetition is briefly resumed again, but has more power because of the prior break — before the emdash signals a more complete shift in focus. The resumption is not precisely the same, however, because the author now abandons the more distancing “it”, for “we”, cleverly reinforcing that this story is a journey the narrator and reader are embarking upon together.

1980 film version

The emdash also introduces the narrator’s voice, which is a literary mode we eschew now, but was near-universal in Dickens’ time.

So there you are, rather a lot going on in a few short lines. The most important thing about it though, is to enjoy — and if so inclined, find a copy of A Tale Of Two Cities and read on.