Tag: fiction

An Enchanted Adventure: A Journey Through Children’s Books

Mystique & Intrigue for an Adventurer & Explorer

“I am going to indulge myself in something that I haven’t had the chance to do in some time!” I said – throwing it over my shoulder casually in a manner intended to intrigue and mystify.

“Going to the library? Good job ma!” said the son, and I moaned. Mystique and I. My foot. 

I guarded the time I had between a drop-off and pick-up session like it was precious (because it was) and headed towards the library. I fended off requests for the grocery store, deftly ducked under an amazon return order request, and dodged an enticing offer to search for missing documents in the house. 

When finally I walked into the cool library that hot summer evening, I felt something like an adventurer. An explorer who found their way to treasured lands. It was beautiful.

The display stacks groaned with new children’s titles, the popular books section assured me that the authors displayed there had been continuing to do their good work of broadening children’s minds. 

I cannot adequately state how marvelous it all is. 

The hot evening outside meant I picked up books with illustrations with cooler themes in illustration. Sleepy dreamers, cozy woodland creatures, forests in fall, the gleam of windows in the night, the beautiful shapes of the stars in the night sky. The here-and-now of long summer days has us all yearning for these themes, I suppose. 

As I gazed down at an illustration in the book, Every Color of Light – by Hiroshi Osada, I closed my eyes for a moment thinking of the evening we went in search of the stars. Specifically, Delta-Cep in the Cepheus constellation. 

Version 1.0.0 – from Amazon page

Delta Cep in the Cepheus Constellation

The son was bemused at how enthusiastically we wanted to help in this particular homework assignment. He, of course, in the innocence of youth cannot understand our childish enthusiasm for learning new things, finding out about new things. “Did you know that if we scale our universe, if the solar system is a football field in California, the nearest star, Alpha Centauri, is in the East Coast of America?” 

“Really?”

See? Amused at the awe shining like Alpha Centauri on our faces. 

Anyway, he said it was difficult to find Delta Cep in the summer skies because of the light pollution in city areas. It isn’t the brightest star system.  The husband asked his talented photographer friends for the best places to go, and off we went. For half an hour, we forgot about all the travails that seemed to be whipping our daily worlds. Maybe Delta-Cep had a better time of it. A place where peace and harmony prevailed. A star-system in which the greatest turmoils were mild-summer-breezes that rippled through their atmospheres. 

That is the power of story-telling isn’t it? The ability to transport us to realms other, feelings exalted, and wholesome?

Farmhouse Menagerie

I picked up the book on cozy woodland creatures, Woodland Dreams – by Karen Jameson pictures by Marc Boutavant

What whimsical names would you give our fellow creatures? Karen’s names were fascinating: Fox (Swift Legs) , Fish (Shiny Scales), Deer (Tiny Hooves), Woodpecker (Strong Beak)

Come Home – Swift Legs

Furry Schemer 

Red-tailed Dreamer

  • Karen Jameson, Picture by Marc Boutavant

The lyrical poems she gives for each creature was enough to bring a smile.

It got me thinking: What would you name some of your fellow creatures? I have always loved listening to the names people give their pets. The daughter had quite the list, and I must say, some of them made me sit up and listen. The menagerie she had in mind for her horses, dogs and cats, reminded me of the little girl whose stories as a girl all involved moving to the countryside, and a horse in the stables revealing themselves to be a unicorn only to her. There is a sweetness to thinking like that. A simple yearning.

The feeling of a children’s book

And so it went, a little reverie of my own every time I picked up a book. It was the rare book that disappointed. Most children’s books had a sweet emotion it evoked – warmth, beauty, companionship, safety, love, growth. 

It only seemed right that I finished my stash for the evening with the book, Grow Grateful – – By Sage Foster-Lasser and  Jon Lasser, PhD. Illustrated by Christopher Lyles

“So, how was it?” said the son as I picked him up. 

“It was amazing! I wish you could’ve come!” He beamed. “Yes, next time. Tell me which ones did you like the best?”

I told him about all the ones I had read, and we chatted about them all the way home. He listened, an indulgent look on his face, and I felt a pang – he was growing and children’s books seemed childish to him just now as a newly minted teenager with a reputation to grow into.  I hope he’ll come back to them one day like C S Lewis said to his niece for whom he had written The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe

“Some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again.” C S Lewis 

The Old Man with a Dog

The Old Man With a Dog

“You know that old man with a dog? He spoke to me the other day, I was pleasantly surprised by what an interesting conversation it turned out to be.” said the husband, sounding impressed. 

I nodded, adding, “I read an article that hit this problem on the head: It is the fact that we truly become invisible as we age.” 

I hastened to explain as we leaped past the nightly sprinklers that had started up. The horologist’s gleaming success – timed sprinklers. Anyway. “Our achievements, our agility, or even our experiences fade to the background. You become that old man with a dog. He could have been a scientist in a space program, or a high-ranking official in some administrative service, a doctor, or a professor/teacher. But none of that matters – a true lesson in time and humility and all of that.”

The husband looked thoughful, and I waited. 

“Yes – I always only had the time for a hello, and a how-are-you. Never really stopped to talk to him.”

aging

On the way from somewhere to something

I nodded. We all do the same. On the way from somewhere to something. 

From there, our conversation went on to how we may, in our times, in our awesome ways, not fall into the same traps. 

Except that we will. 

We already do. 

“Old age is always fifteen years older than I am.”

– Oliver Wendell Holmes

We may even be hastening and accelerating towards it just like we accelerated and hastened towards everything in life. It is why we feel the sting when we don’t understand the emoji-lingo anymore. It is why we feel bewildered, and scramble to understand when a new career path we’ve never heard of before, comes up for discussions by the younger ones in our lives. 

Gerascophobia is real.

Aging brings with it frailty. 

Failing health means a fall from the bed after an afternoon nap, or the unexpected reaction to a medication. Somehow, life manages to strip everything away from us.  Degrees, achievements, resumes – everything whittles down to blood pressure and blood sugar readings.

“It’s paradoxical that the idea of living a long life appeals to everyone, but the idea of getting old doesn’t appeal to anyone.”

– Andy Rooney

So, how may we stay relevant? 

A few people in my parent’s generation still retain the spark. They work towards spreading cheer, being loved and loving, and retaining their intellectual curiosity in ways that means they have defied age in a way. They are the ones who still bring a smile to our faces when we think of them. It seems like a simple thing to do, but it isn’t.

Maybe that is the change in life’s purpose. Learning to cultivate joy in the small moments, so we may remember to be happy when invisibility hits, when loneliness hits, or when health fails. 

“There is a fountain of youth: it is your mind, your talents, the creativity you bring to your life and the lives of people you love. When you learn to tap this source, you will truly have defeated age.” – Sophia Loren

Humans of New York kind of initiatives show us the stories behind everyone.

P.S: The article ( I truly wish I had saved the link, but I didn’t. So, if someone knows the article I am referring to, please let me know, and I shall link it here. ) was a well-written one that had me nodding in several places.

Read Also: Toby Turtle’s Lessons on Life – Nourish-n-Cherish

Malamojism: Cringe Emojis

Ms Malamoji

“ I love the range of emojis we have at our disposal!” I said beaming at the children, as I texted one of my friends for an evening walk, sipped a cup of tea and impressively ignored what they were watching on the television.

🌿🍀🍂🍃🌿🍀🍂🍃🌿🍀🍂🍃🌿🍀🍂🍃🌿🍀🍂🍃🌿🍀🍂🍃🌿🍀🍂🍃🌿🍀🍂🍃🌿🍀🍂🍃

The daughter peered into the phone, and had a closed off expression that reminded me of geese trying not to laugh.

“Mother! How long have you been using that emoji while inviting people for walks?” she asked. This time, it was unmistakable. The dam of laughter waiting to burst.

“I use it all the time. Such a pretty one it is for windy evening walks, no?” I said admiring the little emoji in question. Leaves being whipped up by the winds. 🍃

“Ummm…yeah! Luckily, you text other … ummm … Aunties with this I guess!” she said.

“Well! Why not? I put different emojis for different things!” I said, though I could feel the prickling sensation that meant I was going to have the carpet not gently removed but swiveled out from under my feet.

“Nothing! Just the emoji you just used – *pause for dramatic effect* – means – well, you know, come while we whirl and twirl, you know, up there?” she said, raising her eyebrows, holding in a laugh, and shaking with it, all at the same time. She was giving me what authors call ‘meaningful looks’. It was honestly impressive. They should have an emoji for that.  I looked like a pile of leaves twirling in the wind myself – confused.

She waited for me to catch on, and when I didn’t, said, “Mother! That emoji means you want to get *high* – not with alcohol but marijuana!”

I gasped.

“NO! How could that be?! How come no one ever told me before then?! I love that emoji and use it all the time!”

“Like I said – your friends are all … goodies!” (delivery with laughter)

I felt like Ms Malamoji.

( Ms Malaprop – you have my sympathies. Malapropism is the use of a slightly similar sounding word with an entirely different meaning, usually having a comedic effect. It is attributed to Ms Malaprop – a character in a 18th century play who used this and made the audience laugh. (Ex: Miss Pringle often does this in Miss Read’s Fairacre series) )

Skibbidi Toilet

“Ugh! This is like that skibbidi toilet thing all over again!”  I said to the son later as I recounted it.

“Ugh! Amma – Keep with the times. Skibidi toilet is so 2023! It’s honestly cringe if you say that now!”

Author commentary: Where are we writers to go if phrases become ‘cringe’ in a matter of months? Sigh.

Also, for my friends who don’t know what Skibbidi Toilet means: here it is. It is a web-series where humanoids have a war with singing human-headed toilets.

🙄 I know. (That is the rolling eyes emoji – I think)

It was all the rage among the simple minded laugh-sters in our midst – two years ago.

Mellow Joys: Strolls in the Moonlight

Mellow Joys

The week-end evening was pleasant after a hot week, I sat relishing the quiet: the especially large magnolia blossom on a tree, the clouds in their pinks, lilacs and greys before they embraced the inky blues of the night, and the gentle breeze through the leaves and waters nearby. It truly was idyllic. 

The long summer days always make me yearn for the different colors of dusk and night. Our home is bright and filled with natural light which is a blessing, but it also means that late risers like Yours Truly do not get to the see the colors of dawn. The days start with light and then go on burning bright with every passing hour. 

Last night, I had time on my hands. I watched the dusk turn to night. A slow stroll through the moonlit streets of our neighborhood made for a different rhythm. There was a mellow joy to it – not boisterous, but buoyant. Moonlight can be tender, but it also can throw everyday objects into harsh contrast. 

Not just our homes but our heavens too

Maybe it was the lackadaisical nature of the stroll – one I rarely permitted myself to do. Brisk walks, phone calls while walking, chatting – they were all absent. I watched a cloud flit over a sinister looking tree, and looked on passively as an owl flew past and perched itself on the very tip of the tree-top. We stood there each surveying the other, and finally, of course, I lost. Can we ever win out against the stillness of predators? 

I heard the sounds of animals scurrying outside – every sense accentuated by the lack of electric light. Even the olfactory senses seemed to be enjoying this – Some flowers that wafted their fragrance only into the night, and I stopped to sniff and smile every so often. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the owl swoop. 

“Our village of Fairacre is no lovelier than many others. We have rats as well as roses in our back gardens…. But at times it is not only home to us but heaven too; and this was just such an occasion.”

― Miss Read, Over the Gate: A Novel

Asrais magical in the moonlight

Reluctantly, I headed back into the home, and insisted on switching off all the lights for the rest of the evening. Even when I watched a movie with the windows open, I kept sneaking glances at the moonlight pouring in through the slats in the window. 

The evening reading fare was equally marvelous. A magical book with fantastic beasts, beautiful illustrations, and oh so much imagination! What a book, Stephen Krensky!

The Book of Mythical Beasts & Magical Creatures – By Stephen Krensky

On the different kinds of fairies, Stephen Krensky has this to say on the Asrai:

Asrai are rare creatures that live in the water and only come to the surface once every hundred years. Asrai grow only by the light of the moon, and if exposed to sunlight, dissolve into the water and are never seen again.

-Stephen Krensky on the Asrai Fairies

When I read about the magical Asrais, I felt it was time now to go to bed and continue the beauty of simply watching the moonlight through the windows. Maybe it had been an evening when an Asrai had come out to the bless the lands. Who knew?

The Role of Humanity in Modern Science Fiction

I read recently that most sci-fi writers these days are keeping away from the business of predicting technology – those tropes are too well-done, too quickly realized and therefore, the ability to think dizzyingly is being severely eroded. 

I don’t blame them.

Next Draft

Read this one edition of NextDraft from last week – it is news curated by Dave Pell and helps me enormously as I try to protect the mind from being inundated with ‘breaking news’ every few minutes.: 

  • There is news on how a father-son doctor duo proctored and flooded the research bases with their own “studies” on the link between autism and vaccines. Then, they wrote further articles linking back to their own garbage as reference. 

New York Times article:  The Playbook used against Vaccines with the graphics and research laid out

We were discussing this over the week-end: the way to teach AI something wrong is also figuring out how much you are able to throw at it to learn from. If you throw enough articles that the United States flag is blue and green. In time, it will question and start to say that there are two factions of flags: one blue-and-green and another red-and-blue.  Then, based on the sentiment analysis of the blue-and-green vs red-and-blue, it can start leaning towards green-and-blue, and in time, proclaim green-and-blue. 

  • Questioning vaccinations, Covid vaccinations, MMR – slowly allows you to question antibiotics in time. With RFK at the helm, I am at a loss to understand motivations here. They don’t seem to be economically motivated. I am not sure religion said anything against vaccines (against science maybe), so there may be a slight leaning there. Can you think of any other motivations?
  • When the bureau of labor statistics was fired, he wasn’t just ‘fired’ for attention grabs. He was fired because ‘the powers’ did not like the data. I have worked with ‘data-driven’ leaders who only took the data if it worked with their warped aims. It does not bode well, nor does it end well. Data driven means you must be willing to change your mind based on the data, not only use it when it is convenient for you.
  • Washington D C became unsafe and safe within days of getting what he wanted.
  • The Zelensky-Putin-Trump situation is still muddled and volatile. Nobody knows who is on whose side. Like a bizarre Hunger Games. 
  • AI interviews a dead person making it what The Atlantic calls a ‘Mass Delusion Event’. What do we trust anymore?
  • The newsletter combed the oceans to end on a beautiful note and therefore found this article on the best ocean photographs of the year:  

https://open.substack.com/pub/managingeditor/p/garbage-in-garbage-out-336?r=1vxbtt&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=email

Ursula Le Guin’s Essay on Science Fiction & Fantasy

This feels like a dystopian space-time to be in. Is this a fantasy story gone awry? A looming war in which we need to work hard to find where our moralities will lead us? I don’t know. All I know is that I have given up trying to understand what trends will prevail. Individuals being good doesn’t mean the collective of humanity is good and vice-versa. If there was one beautiful good-vs-evil arc, I am sure it will be easier. Don’t be a death eater. Voldemort isn’t going to be accepting or loving. See?

But fantasy doesn’t only write about good-vs-evil. It also writes about normal people making mistakes, normal people making choices, the difference and growth required to bounce back from them both.

I have been looking for several years for this essay by Ursula Le Guin on Science Fiction and Fantasy as a genre. It is not available online. I borrowed a copy of The Left Hand Side of Darkness in the Hainish Chronicles from the library, and there, as an introduction by the author, was this gem of the essay. There are times I wish I had an eidetic memory, and this was one of those times. In the meanwhile, here is an essay penned by Ursula Le Guin on the importance of Fantasy in our reading fare.

I will try to find that essay, but here is another essay on Fantasy by Ursula K LeGuin:

https://www.ursulakleguin.com/some-assumptions-about-fantasy

I don’t write about battles or wars at all. It seems to me that what I write about — like most novelists — is people making mistakes and people — other people or the same people — trying to prevent or correct those mistakes, while inevitably making more mistakes.

Sci-Fi Writers:What Should They Do?

The realities around us have made bizarre scenarios almost commonplace. Given this, how can any one writer hope to come up with technology that is supposed to wow this? The real world already has many of our horrors playing out real-time.

Biological warfare – ✅

Technological warfare – ✅

Sociological warfare – ✅

Chemical warfare – ✅

Nuclear warfare – ☑️ 

What are the frontiers left to sci-fi writers? 

Therefore, they are going back to no-technology or minimum tech tropes in hopes of getting humans to think again. Without toys. Without tools. Just their brains, their sensory organs and themselves. I think I admire that.

Teaching us how to be human is one of the greatest skills we need to embrace, isn’t it?

Ostrich Philosophy: News to Peace

“I would like to be an ostrich, and just bury my head somewhere deep in the sand! “, I said reacting to another piece of breaking news. 

“What happened now?” said the husband. 

I mumbled and rambled, “Nothing new. Just expected but also so outrageous! Makes my blood boil. But like most of the folks at this point, I just feel resigned. Like I said want to be an ostrich – preferably in its natural habitat – halfway across the world from here!”

The husband laughed, and said, “Change of topic! What are you reading now?” 

Ah…he was going for safe bets, but no sir! This time, I was ready with a book that plunged right on. I was re-reading Persepolis – By Marjane Satrapi. It was our bookclub pick, and I realized why it remains one of my favorite books of all time. Marjane Satrapi’s sense of story-telling has a childlike sense of wonder. It is a coming-of-age story after all. But it is set against the backdrop of the increasingly regressive Islamic Revolution, the Iran-Iraq war, and the numerous humanitarian excesses that go with these situations.  Marjane Satrapi’s sense of humor, even in the telling of the most horrific scenes of 1970’s Iran is what makes the book a marvel.

I held the book up, and opened up to read : as luck would have it, my eyes landed on the announcement by the authorities that they would be shutting down Universities and higher learning was banned. 

FromthebookPersepolis:ByMarjaneSatrapi

The next day’s breaking news made me want to be an ostrich again. The Education Department’s funding was being revoked. “Did he read the book and decide what to do next?” I said, clanging the dishes with extra vigor while unloading the dishwasher. 

“Really! There must be some sort of book of ideas – some template to go by, no?” I said. I admit I was flummoxed by the uncanny Tyranny 101. On Tyranny – By Timothy Snyder’s book also got it right. 

Why isn’t there an equivalent for Peace 101? I suppose all the hard things in life have to be worked for and attained in the hard way, but for everything else there are rulebooks.

Finding Calm Amidst the Chaos of Life

May seemed to me an especially fast merry-go-round. The spinning was fun, the laughter for all those involved loud, and the merriment infectious. But as June came around, I had the feeling of being dizzy without the fun bits. The world still seemed to be spinning, but the merry-go-round had stopped. Life had resumed. Normal life had resumed, I mean. 

One rare afternoon, I sat trying to soak in the quiet of the evening, and felt strange. I usually relish these moments of solitude. I reached for my books, and found that the mind and body were racing far too much for quiet contemplation. Even though the book I had in my hand was a perfectly good one on Writing, exhorting me to pay attention to the following aspects of life (Attention, Wonder, Vision, Surprise, Play, Vulnerability,  Restlessness, Connection, Tenacity, Hope), I could not slow down enough to take it all in. 

I gave in to the impulse of watching Instagram reels, and got a ridiculous song stuck in my head, I went into Facebook, and scrolled – joyless and felt more drained by the end of it. That is when I knew that what I needed to get back to a slower pace of activity was to reach for a tried-and-tested book: Changes in Fairacre – By Miss Read. I took a deep breath as I entered the village of Fairacre.

For some folks, music does the magic. The mother-in-law said she listened to Amaidhiyaana Nadhiyinilae Odum – a tamil song whose lyrics evokes the imagery of a smooth flowing river and all its associated imagery. I can see how that can be a calming influence on the senses. 

For Yours Truly, it was a Fairacre book, By Miss Read. The slow and endearing life a village school mistress leads, is therapeutic. Maybe it takes me back to the idyllic times of my own childhood – growing up in a small village community, where both my parents were school teachers. The imagery she evokes of the beautiful countryside makes you think of the maxim: 

Nature never hurries and yet accomplishes everything – Lao Tzu.

Nevertheless, that evening when my restless legs stepped out for a walk, I forced myself to slow down, to feel the breeze, to look at the rays of sunshine shining like little sparkling diamond strings through the evening air. The smell of sage and lavender crushed in my palms like a beautiful balm for the soul. 

It helped but it still took some time. For those of us who refuse to do the hard work of trying to still our senses and the world around us, the merry-go-round can keep going. That night I thought of Miss Read’s observations on modern children (her books were written a good 30 years ago, but it seems truer today than ever before) 

“What I do feel that the modern child lacks, when compared with the earlier generation, is concentration, and the sheer dogged grit to carry a long job through.”

― Miss Read, Village Diary: A Novel

Truly chastened, I settled in with a mellow light throwing a comforting gleam on my bedside table, took a deep breath, and immersed myself as best as I could in village life. Sturdy, slow, and reassuring.

The Magic King of the Coconut Kingdom

The Cognitive Model

“What were you two yapping about and giggling about the whole time?” the husband said, peering into a photograph at the upanayanam ceremony. 

He might have been short of breath after reciting and repeating endless mantras, but the children & I were short of breath trying to hold in our laughter several times – mainly because we had more time on our hands and little to do while on stage. 

“Well – which time? We got into trouble several times with everyone!” I giggled.

“Pick one!”

“Well Fine! I’ll tell you. This is when this fellow said, ‘If ever there was a time to run a cognitive interpretation model and turn the chanting into tonal bits, and then try to get  a translated gist, this is it.’ – That was so like him, that I couldn’t stop laughing. And then everybody shushed me!”

The husband gave the son an amused look, and then said, “Was that what he was saying? It sounded like a song!”

“Well – yes, he was singing. What were you singing?”I said, rounding on the son. I remember the whole hall giving me the pursed-lip and furrowed-brow routine, for his lip sync was clearly off from what his father was droning on the other side of me.

“Oh – that!” 

“Please don’t tell me you were singing Hamilton!” I said.

“Well – phew! Then I won’t get in trouble. No! I was not singing Hamilton, Amma!”

The Magic Coconut Kingdom

I raised my eyebrows and he said, in a somewhat more  abashed tone of voice, “First, I thought the coconut looked funny – like a wizard coconut, with a magic hat. The king of the coconut kingdom!” he puffed his chest out, and his ribs pushed out from under his shirt.

They had decorated that coconut very fancifully. I remember thinking to myself that the coconut looked marvelous. Even without all of this, the coconut is a swell thing, but with some stripes of ash across its face, a huge red dot on its handsome visage, and a silk turban like hat, dashing was the word. #Kalasam

“So, anyway, I imagined the coconut using its magic powers to fight the flames from the fire.. The coconut king, friends with the liquid ghee, used to fan the fire onwards and well – you know how it is, right amma?”

I nodded indeed. The coconut, in combination with the fumes, and the silks on one’s body is fertile ground for fanciful thinking. The chanting in the background can be very soothing for the imagination to pound on. 

Epiphanies of Spiritual Visions?

Religious rituals in Hinduism have a curious character – they rely heavily on the men to perform them, but need the women to hover and lend support at all times. The upanayanam ceremony is no different. The son had nothing to do but indulge in his childish dreams for the first hour or so. 

I wrote about it briefly here: Upanayanam: Insights into a traditional ceremony

Behind every beautiful moment are hundreds of moments leading up to it. The decorations, the coming together of everything in one swoop, the invites, availability of people and dates, and so much more. For one event to happen, even if the hero/heroine of the event is unaware, it means combined efforts from many people – mostly loved ones.

When finally it all comes together, there is much chatter, excitement, frazzled feelings, tension, drama, joy, laughter. Then, just when you wonder what to make of it all, out of the blue, a moment of rare insight, like peeking into a well, and catching the glimpse of a fish for an instant, appears before you.

If it was the coconut that gave that to the son, so be it. 

For me, it was the son’s quip on the cognitive model to apply to the tonal information. 

I hope the husband and daughter found that moment too. They must have judging by the looks of surprised happiness the pictures seem to get a glimpse of.

A Lament for Short Stories

Give me short stories over real news or fake news any day

The clouds are wondering whether or not to drizzle. It is the perfect weather for musing and meandering thoughts.

I wonder how I meander to the thoughts on short stories – maybe a recent conversation. But I feel the short story is one of the most poignant losses of literary fiction. As children, magazines were filled with short stories and the thrill of finding a short piece contained in and of itself providing the nourishment of the soul was brilliant. What happened to short stories these days?

Give me short stories over real news or fake news any day. Please.

Stories in their natural length: stream, or rivulet, or tributary, or river

I’ve read stories stuffed into tweets – threatening to spill over, and bulging in all the wrong places.

And Then.

I’ve read stories watered down and stretched into novels. The original essence there, somewhere perhaps, but too watered down like homeopathic medicine.

What I’d like is a story – at its length. No fluff. No dilution. Just essence.

If a story is meant to dance and spurt joyously like a stream, let it. If it settles in, and flows like a river, let it. If it is a tributary and wants to join the main river, let it. If it is vast and encompasses depth adn breadth and expands into an ocean, let it.

Kindle Singles came up with the idea – I wonder what happened to it. They fizzled out.

There are anthologies – but they are few.

Reading the first half of The Overstory by Richard Powers made me yearn for short stories again. I think it is time to revisit Golf stories by P G Wodehouse or a little visit to Malgudi to reacquaint myself with all the characters. Tales from a Village School would be welcome too, wouldn’t it? Miss Clare Remembers is a wonderful book of short stories all woven around the fallen giant – the elegant, thin, straight-backed kind teacher, Dolly Clare.

Give me short stories when my attention is wandering. Enough to keep me stimulated, and wanting more.

Recommendations Please

Are we losing another art-form altogether? What would Somerset Maugham say, what would Alice Munro say? I remember the thrill of liking an author’s story, and then finding a whole book written by them. How marvelous it would be to crack open any magazine and find short stories there?

If you do read short stories, which magazines do you get your source from? Apart from The New Yorker I mean.

P.S: I have written a collection of short stories of my own too – both singles & themed collections. Written to its natural length, and savored from time to time by Yours Truly, but otherwise waiting – wondering where they can be published. So, if you have any recommendations of publications for short stories, please let me know.

How Reading Changes Our Understanding of the World

Reading, Absorbing, Retaining

We were discussing books and one of my friends said wistfully, “I like what I am reading, but I don’t know how much of it I will be able to retain afterwards.”

The rest of us nodded. It is a problem and one that I have yearned to be better at too. How marvelous it would be to quote with ease from our various influences! The internet truly is a savior for folks like me who have a vague idea. I don’t think stunning speeches are made by saying things like: “Remember that saying by Shakespeare where he said something about wise men knowing they are fools, and fools being very sure of their awesomeness? Or something like that?”

Aah….here it is:

“The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool”.  – Shakespeare

So, it is with knowledge. The more one yearns to learn about the world around us, the universe, and the lives we lead within it, the more one realizes how little one actually knows. There is no surer path to humility than learning.

“Even if that is the case, I suppose we retain things that appeal to us subconsciously.” I said.

The conversation meandered after that  but I found myself thinking back to that statement. It was true enough.

The OverStory – Subtle Influences

I read The OverStory by Richard Powers a few years ago, and loved many aspects of the book – its lyrical language, the poetry of the trees, the rich interweaving of nature in its stories etc so much that I wanted to read it again with my book club. It is when I started it again that I realized the Hoel family tradition of photographing their old chestnut tree must have appealed to me. Why else would we have started taking photographs of this particularly gorgeous maple tree every fall? I did not even realize this till we started re-reading the book, and I visualized the hundreds of pictures taken generation after generation. The only surviving chestnut tree for hundreds of miles in every direction. 

There is a timeless charm to a tradition like that.

Reading is a critical part of Becoming

Reading is a critical part of Becoming. Things we read voluntarily, can influence how we think. The characters in stories that appeal to us? They appeal to us for a reason. The actions of flawed individuals? They appeal to us for a reason – maybe we learn to be more forgiving towards follies – our own and of others when we catch them.

There are many studies proving fiction readers were generally more empathetic.

https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/novel-finding-reading-literary-fiction-improves-empathy/

Read Across America Week

It is Read Across America Week in schools honoring Dr Seuss’s birthday, and I found myself loving the rich world of stories once more. We each have a world of stories within us – stories that shaped our beliefs, joyously transported us to different realms, acted as escape mechanisms at times, stress busters at others, and just a marvelous source of shoshin otherwise.

Languages all over the world have a phrase or word for the vastness of knowledge, and I suppose I am grateful for it all.

Anantha gyana, gewaltiger umfang, enorm kunnskap, Abhijñā

Happy Read Across America Week – may we all read more about hopeful, brave, courageous, witty, humourous, compassionate, kind, vibrant personalities, and become like them.