The Greatness and Glory of My Life Today...
This morning I read Nicole Kornher-Stace's post-apocalyptic katabasis novel, not yet published, in three hours, from 8:30-11:30. And then, having forgotten to eat breakfast, I made lunch.
And over lunch (leftover enchiladas), I read Francesca Forrest's new story, Tilia Songbird, only it's the kind of story that leaves you ACHING for a WHOLE LOT MORE, so I'm hungry again.
And it's just not fair, because it's not a hunger that can be SATISFIED with food. Maybe it could be satisfied by DISCUSSION!
Tonight I will get to discuss Nicole's book with her. But YOU! You all could dash over to GigaNotoSaurus (linked above) and read Francesca's story, and then DISCUSS IT HERE WITH ME!!! In comments! So that I could TAAAAALK to someone about it!!!
So, yeah. Life really sucks. Because, the last four and a half hours I just had to SUFFER through all THIS BRILLIANT AND HEARTBREAKING NEW FICTION by people I ADORE! Pity me. Send me flowers and avocados.
***
ADDENDUM:
When I say I hunger at the end of something, it is not meant, in any way, to imply dissatisfaction. Or, at any rate, that I disapprove of this particular FLAVOR of dissatisfaction.
Actually, I am a firm believer in stories leaving you wanting more. (Case in point, the ending to Robin McKinley's SUNSHINE, which had so many people so upset, and which delighted me.) I think it gives "more scope for the imagination" as Anne of Green Gables says. Only she said it in reference to poverty being, in that way, more satisfying than riches.
I believe in... In the READER being a vital and integral and complicit participant in the building of worlds. So that THEY (we) may spin untold stories with the thread the author has given us. We, in fact, become... each of us, an alternate universe, starting with the seedstar of the original story.
I like pieces of things. I think that's why I don't mind starting series in the middle. I like piecing together the past with... implications!
This story felt FAMILIAR to me, but familiar in a way that does not mean to imply the cliche of contempt. It was familiar the way Gaiman's CORALINE was familiar. As if I'd been there before, or dreamed it. And every sentence was remembering.
I frikkin love that feeling. That feeling that once upon a time, I knew ALL THE STORIES. But when I was born, the tumult of my passage erased all stories but my own, and even they are buried deep in the bedrock of amnesia, revealing themselves as time erodes the forgetfulness away.
Without OTHER AUTHORS (or any artists -- or scientists -- or historians!), I'd never learn the whole of it. I'd never see more of... of the MYSTERY!
***
And over lunch (leftover enchiladas), I read Francesca Forrest's new story, Tilia Songbird, only it's the kind of story that leaves you ACHING for a WHOLE LOT MORE, so I'm hungry again.
And it's just not fair, because it's not a hunger that can be SATISFIED with food. Maybe it could be satisfied by DISCUSSION!
Tonight I will get to discuss Nicole's book with her. But YOU! You all could dash over to GigaNotoSaurus (linked above) and read Francesca's story, and then DISCUSS IT HERE WITH ME!!! In comments! So that I could TAAAAALK to someone about it!!!
So, yeah. Life really sucks. Because, the last four and a half hours I just had to SUFFER through all THIS BRILLIANT AND HEARTBREAKING NEW FICTION by people I ADORE! Pity me. Send me flowers and avocados.
***
ADDENDUM:
When I say I hunger at the end of something, it is not meant, in any way, to imply dissatisfaction. Or, at any rate, that I disapprove of this particular FLAVOR of dissatisfaction.
Actually, I am a firm believer in stories leaving you wanting more. (Case in point, the ending to Robin McKinley's SUNSHINE, which had so many people so upset, and which delighted me.) I think it gives "more scope for the imagination" as Anne of Green Gables says. Only she said it in reference to poverty being, in that way, more satisfying than riches.
I believe in... In the READER being a vital and integral and complicit participant in the building of worlds. So that THEY (we) may spin untold stories with the thread the author has given us. We, in fact, become... each of us, an alternate universe, starting with the seedstar of the original story.
I like pieces of things. I think that's why I don't mind starting series in the middle. I like piecing together the past with... implications!
This story felt FAMILIAR to me, but familiar in a way that does not mean to imply the cliche of contempt. It was familiar the way Gaiman's CORALINE was familiar. As if I'd been there before, or dreamed it. And every sentence was remembering.
I frikkin love that feeling. That feeling that once upon a time, I knew ALL THE STORIES. But when I was born, the tumult of my passage erased all stories but my own, and even they are buried deep in the bedrock of amnesia, revealing themselves as time erodes the forgetfulness away.
Without OTHER AUTHORS (or any artists -- or scientists -- or historians!), I'd never learn the whole of it. I'd never see more of... of the MYSTERY!
***