St. Augustine in his study, from his Soliloquii, Florence 1491 |
Interviewing Authors
I have done a couple of interviews of writers which you can find at Strange Horizons:
*Mike Coney
*Eileen Kernaghan
Although not recently added to (a little software glitch I haven't overcome), I uploaded a bunch of short videos to YouTube, with readings of everyone from William Hope Hodgson to Eva Ibbotson. You can find those here. I offer a humble example below.
For some reason the embed isn't working so I will just link you to the original video via this photo of me as the Evil Queen being attacked by participants at VCon's Turkey Readings in 2010.
Reviewing Their Books
I also have an account with LibraryThing which I use to keep track of books I have read--not every last one, but most of them. (I usually don't bother if it didn't do anything for me either way.)
I frequently write brief reviews, usually of books I like. At times I am moved to write a negative review, but as I grow older and slightly wiser I am trying to be certain that I do so for valid reasons only, and not just to blow off steam. My interest after all is in encouraging writers and readers in reaching Beauty, Joy, and Truth, or at least good fun, and not just in beating my own drum, despite urges to get uppity now and then.
This is a slowly refining process so you may find reviews there in which I am less careful than I want to be. Feel free to point it out to me so I can go back and think again about what I really want to say.
So, here is the link to my profile at LibraryThing, and here is a handful of miscellaneous reviews from that site, to whet your appetite.
I am gobsmacked.
The novel begins as an entertaining tale of a headstrong young Australian girl going to meet the world at boarding school. It gradually evolves into a subtle, simple, and stunningly real observation of the pressures of conformity and the intolerance of naïveté, which, when paired with a strong desire to be accepted, can lead to many and often rending responses in an imaginative young person.
Yet it is not a tragedy. I am left moved, affectionate, a little worried about the future, and yet joyful at the intactness of the protagonist's resilient soul.
It is the rare sort of book that provokes deep self-reflection and a nudge in the direction of peace-making with self and life, and in this way brings to mind [[George Eliot]]'s [Middlemarch].
Bravo, Ms Richardson.
The novel begins as an entertaining tale of a headstrong young Australian girl going to meet the world at boarding school. It gradually evolves into a subtle, simple, and stunningly real observation of the pressures of conformity and the intolerance of naïveté, which, when paired with a strong desire to be accepted, can lead to many and often rending responses in an imaginative young person.
Yet it is not a tragedy. I am left moved, affectionate, a little worried about the future, and yet joyful at the intactness of the protagonist's resilient soul.
It is the rare sort of book that provokes deep self-reflection and a nudge in the direction of peace-making with self and life, and in this way brings to mind [[George Eliot]]'s [Middlemarch].
Bravo, Ms Richardson.
This book belongs to what I am beginning to think of as a genre of modern novels that intends to move us and instruct us about life and healing but which remains somewhat remote from its characters and somewhat unreal and flat. The writing is competent and the subject matter is important but it just doesn't come alive.
I can't help thinking of a truly powerful novel, also by an Irish woman writer, also about a pretty screwed up woman who almost inadvertently stumbles down a path to insight and healing--[My Dream of You] by [[Nuala O’Faolain]]. The difference is profound. O’Faolain is not attempting to lead us into any great insight, she is just telling her story, but what a contrast. I was transported by the writing, the character, the story, perhaps because the author in that case was writing from truth, not from plot outline or metaphor. When her character screws up, it is painful. When she does herself a favour, it is a joy. Ahern's protagonist on the other hand is almost a caricature, and although in real life I would greatly sympathize with her, in the book I am merely curious.
I do not mean to disrespect this writer or what she is trying to do. Clearly the person who wrote this book is talented and capable, creative and caring. I am just saddened that even when we are trying to write about the hard things they so often come out so easy and unreal.
I can't help thinking of a truly powerful novel, also by an Irish woman writer, also about a pretty screwed up woman who almost inadvertently stumbles down a path to insight and healing--[My Dream of You] by [[Nuala O’Faolain]]. The difference is profound. O’Faolain is not attempting to lead us into any great insight, she is just telling her story, but what a contrast. I was transported by the writing, the character, the story, perhaps because the author in that case was writing from truth, not from plot outline or metaphor. When her character screws up, it is painful. When she does herself a favour, it is a joy. Ahern's protagonist on the other hand is almost a caricature, and although in real life I would greatly sympathize with her, in the book I am merely curious.
I do not mean to disrespect this writer or what she is trying to do. Clearly the person who wrote this book is talented and capable, creative and caring. I am just saddened that even when we are trying to write about the hard things they so often come out so easy and unreal.
One of the very few poetry books I have read from cover to cover. Each one a treasure. Thank you, Madame Oliver.
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