tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36257215082931168912023-06-20T05:14:26.551-07:003 Through HistoryIn this romance/recent history novel, a philosopher and two former musicians (both Jewish, one a clergyperson, one DEFINITELY not) meet, practically at a bar! They waltz through life in Mexico, Israel, and Philadelphia from the end of the '60's until the twenty-first century. The men bond. The woman chooses. The earth takes another spin, blissfully ignorant to one of seven billion dramas for which it sets the stage.The Aquabloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00012517864249324205noreply@blogger.comBlogger68125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3625721508293116891.post-56664884410887710752014-09-24T09:17:00.001-07:002014-09-24T09:17:39.251-07:00Memoirs of a Jewminicana: Aliza Hausman's Blog: Happy...oh, wait, you don't belong here! Do you? On Being a Jewnited Nation<a href="http://www.alizahausman.com/2014/09/happyoh-wait-you-dont-belong-here-do-you.html">Memoirs of a Jewminicana: Aliza Hausman's Blog: Happy...oh, wait, you don't belong here! Do you? On Being a Jewnited Nation</a>The Aquabloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00012517864249324205noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3625721508293116891.post-85791590775325472672014-05-30T04:52:00.001-07:002014-05-30T04:52:55.640-07:00Tom Kepler Writing: Greg Thatcher's Vision: Support an Artist and the Sacred Yews of England<a href="http://www.tomkeplerswritingblog.com/2014/05/welcome-to-wonderful-opportunity-to.html">Tom Kepler Writing: Greg Thatcher's Vision: Support an Artist and the Sacred Yews of England</a>The Aquabloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00012517864249324205noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3625721508293116891.post-39077626147404363922013-02-01T08:04:00.001-08:002013-02-01T08:16:59.231-08:00Forged in Flame, A Review - and a link<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I was thrilled to be reminded by Sallie Lundy-Frommer that I was her guest not long ago - senior moment. I really liked this interview:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://yesterdaydaugher.blogspot.com/2012/11/interview-with-ronald-fischman-author.html">http://yesterdaydaugher.blogspot.com/2012/11/interview-with-ronald-fischman-author.html</a><br />
<br />
Now for the review:<br />
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They inspire our creations, the creations of madmen. They
fire the embers of our weak imaginations and make us soar over the nullities of
our lives to speak with gods. Leonardo da Vinci, “the Conqueror,” longed to
copy them. Thousands of our best young artists and designers struggle to
illustrate them. And in <i>Forged in Flame, </i>five
authors tell their stories: here there be Dragons.</div>
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<br /></div>
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This slim anthology of five novellas explores dragons as
they might have appeared in mythology, how they might have interacted, even
mated, with humanity, and how the innate madness of these creations might fire
the madness of inventors. Thirty-one year old Samuel Mayo is first, with a
short appropriately titled “First Flight.” This novella might be targeted at
the middle grade reader, with young teen-aged protagonists and a villain who
must steal an unnatural power source. The “flight” refers to the boy’s
invention and the demon dragon that must steal the power-generator to wreak
havoc on a post-apocalyptic Earth. We leap back to the wonders of a medieval
landscape, with a peaceable kingdom besieged on all sides – except from the
North, the land of the mystical creatures who would leave the kingdom to its
fate. But then the Dragon Kingdom learns that it has scales in the game. The massive,
peaceful giants weigh in on the side of harmony. This novella is written by a
fantasy writer, Brian Collier, who has always made writing his profession.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Eric White, another writer who struggles to create his
fantasy world out of a schedule committed to earning a living another way,
brings us a medieval aquascape, rather than a landscape. In “Birth Pains,” a
girl reprises Mary by bearing without the benefit of a man, but she carries
triplets – triplet dragons, that is. Even when she seems like a girl in
trouble, used by a boy whose reputation she has sworn to protect, two heroes
arise to bring her to the place where she can make this miraculous birth. One
is her devoted grandmother, and another is a sea warrior who makes Admiral
Peary go weak at the knees. In “Golden
Legacy” by 22-year-old author Jana Boskey, a man of decidedly paranormal blood
– half dragon, half “Faerie” – is hunted by an Assassin, a teenaged girl who
knows nothing but pursuit of people with paranormal abilities. There is an
ongoing struggle of life and death here; Boskey’s genius is to make the supremely
powerful dragon legend hover between life and death at the point of a dagger
wielded by a teen-aged girl.</div>
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In “Heart of Steel,” Caitlyn McColl brings us the mind of
the insatiable inventor, whose quest for truth transforms into a lust for
revenge when he finds his beloved apparently murdered. The remarkable genius
who brings forth cyborg creatures of every description brings a great dragon
automaton to life to seek revenge. The identity of the killer, and the nature
of the crime, twist the plot into a psychological pretzel. The final story, from D. Robert Pease, author
of the two Noah Zarc novels, brings us full-circle in the lore of dragons. In
“A Chink in the Armor,” the dragon seeks the greatest warrior on Earth to
confront and to test the mettle of in battle. Humanity has found that it has
come upon an enemy that it cannot overcome. In the words of Blue Oyster Cult,
“History shows again and again how Nature points out the folly of men!” </div>
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<i>Forged in Flame</i> is
my first exposure to dragons since the Lord of the Rings and Wagner’s Ring
Cycle operas. I was mightily impressed by the scope of the works contained
herein, from the geeklike to the epic. The writers and editors who compiled this
volume have done a marvelous job! There is one flaw, that borders on the
serious: it is not OK to miss homophones in the editing process. A writer can
be excused (barely) for using “vile” when he means “vial,” but a publisher had
better keep such mistakes out of their product if it is to make a name for
itself as a quality publisher. This fault is severe enough to lose half a mark
in my book. If I could break a star, this would reduce my rating from 5 to 4.5
stars, but in a whole-star system, I give this collection five stars and a
resume for a copy editor.</div>
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</div>
The Aquabloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00012517864249324205noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3625721508293116891.post-22419670705668382162013-01-29T11:20:00.001-08:002013-01-29T11:20:14.009-08:00NightBallet Press: Debut of Prayerbook Bouquet by Zachary Fishel!<a href="http://nightballetpress.blogspot.com/2013/01/this-past-weekend-mega-event-snoetry.html?spref=fb">NightBallet Press: Debut of Prayerbook Bouquet by Zachary Fishel!</a><br />
<br />
What a pleasure it was to read about the initiative that my FB friend and colleague Dianne Borsenick has taken to establish this new press! I certainly plan on submitting my chapbook to them, and I encourage you all to surf over there.The Aquabloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00012517864249324205noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3625721508293116891.post-66046983092629254282013-01-29T07:55:00.000-08:002013-01-29T09:15:01.035-08:00Bird in the Hand...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The proverb goes, "Better to have a bird in the hand than two in the bush." Of course, if you love birds, the literal wisdom of the proverb is debatable, but the meaning is clear. If you have something now, take it, and leave the future to take care of the future. But is this good advice for novelists?<br />
<br />
As you know, I have been "selling" 3 Through History as an ebook for a few months now, and have the following rollicking results: 8 sales, 4 that weren't free for reviewers, and one review (bless your heart, it was a five-star). I have been a little slack about my platform - most of you were wondering when my next literary fiction review was going to go up - but I have been more aggressive about finding reviewers. Still, not very good results. But last Friday, I got an email from a boutique publisher with almost no budget that wants to add my novel to their literary offerings. Rejoice! Party! Beer for everyone!<br />
<br />
Then I opened my email yesterday, and got the big surprise that an agency that represents a lot of literary fiction and gets such novels published by the Big Six New York Publishers, wanted my manuscript! So at this moment, I sit and puzzle, wondering whether to sign the contract that the boutique house is going to send me, or roll the dice. Very large dice, but dice nevertheless.<br />
<br />
Dear reader, what would you do? Have you ever been in a Bird-In-The-Hand situation (or live in Bird-In-Hand, PA) and made your choice? How did it turn out?</div>
The Aquabloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00012517864249324205noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3625721508293116891.post-41576639934024508822013-01-14T11:30:00.004-08:002013-01-14T11:30:58.021-08:00Franzen's Freedom, a Review in Verse<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Franzen Freedom in Free Verse</div>
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Patty, you pirouetted freely on the floor</div>
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Of a baller gym trying to escape the still-hot embers</div>
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Of free love freely robbed from you </div>
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Honeybee rapes the flower, </div>
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Robs the honeysuckle of that which </div>
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<br /></div>
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Heaven gave, and though depraved </div>
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Men who claim your fealty, family</div>
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Fails to carry swords for girls</div>
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Carries water for criminals</div>
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With bigger dicks and wallets</div>
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<br /></div>
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Walter, frozen like a shallow pond</div>
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In Iron Ranging winter raging </div>
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Through your backwoods blood, the</div>
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Booze and smokes of the Bemidji men</div>
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Who tie the women down with drink and</div>
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<br /></div>
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Servitude. The weight of constant winter</div>
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Silent spring traps you in a world of must</div>
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Until you find a free spirit free love freely</div>
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Given in sattvic smiles saturated with </div>
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Sex and satisfaction. Shiva sweeps in</div>
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<br /></div>
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Swollen roadbeds slippery tar and loosened</div>
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Gravel thrown from truckbeds full to</div>
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Breaking broken coal soot whiskey</div>
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Fly Lalitha, fly love free for though</div>
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You came to this overpopulated</div>
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<br /></div>
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Planet poised to choke on smoke </div>
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City soaked with human sorrow</div>
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You found freedom, love to borrow</div>
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Wresting Walter from his chains</div>
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Of filial obligation now you’re gone</div>
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<br /></div>
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Children live, triangulated</div>
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Joey individuated</div>
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Wrapped in teen lust, still a boy</div>
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Coupled free of Mom and Dad</div>
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Grab that prize! Trash her later</div>
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<br /></div>
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Make connection, take that contract</div>
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Find a way to cop free stash and</div>
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Money by the hundred thousand</div>
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Find the stench of rotting blood</div>
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Turns you back, pay ill with good</div>
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<br /></div>
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Rock star Richard </div>
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Fluid rake</div>
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Will you take</div>
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Her mistake</div>
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Thrown like waste </div>
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In the face</div>
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Of the chick</div>
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Who would stick</div>
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To the pick</div>
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Your guitar</div>
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Travels far</div>
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From the heart </div>
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Of your Walt</div>
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Though you love him</div>
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You betray him </div>
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With your radar cock </div>
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you slay him</div>
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Sets him free</div>
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To love and lose</div>
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And grieve</div>
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<br /></div>
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Yet another, a girl who might redeem</div>
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Brokenness, the wretched weight of empty</div>
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Space between the fibers raveling.</div>
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Free from guttering smoky flame </div>
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Of family’s woven wick, Jessica, </div>
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<br /></div>
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Your mother’s calling, </div>
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Calling</div>
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Calling</div>
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You are my mirror. Cast the light</div>
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Where I fail, hebete presence, to shine.</div>
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Hurl spears for me. Then salve</div>
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The wounds I caused. Put the pieces of Patty</div>
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<br /></div>
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Back together. Walter’s birds, however fragile,</div>
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Can not rise or sing with their savior</div>
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Limned on a cross with </div>
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Anger</div>
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Pain</div>
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Loss</div>
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Betrayal</div>
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Richard</div>
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Lalitha</div>
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Patty</div>
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<br /></div>
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Free to be who we aren’t</div>
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Freedom’s never free</div>
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For the cost is the loss</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Of who we are</div>
</div>
The Aquabloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00012517864249324205noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3625721508293116891.post-36379899362219756812013-01-11T10:31:00.001-08:002013-01-11T10:31:14.933-08:00Alpha Male Diner: Guest Cook Joleene Naylor + giveaway | I Smell SheepCurious as to the person responsible for the bold cover art on 3 Through History (https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/239509)? Here she is, the diva of PNR, Miss Joleene Naylor...<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.ismellsheep.com/2013/01/alpha-male-diner-guest-cook-joleene.html?showComment=1357928911143#c2340456974070135020">Alpha Male Diner: Guest Cook Joleene Naylor + giveaway | I Smell Sheep</a>The Aquabloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00012517864249324205noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3625721508293116891.post-6140664970422381052013-01-01T17:58:00.002-08:002013-01-01T17:58:43.807-08:00The Pursuit of Cool, a Review<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Ever need to revisit a time in your life that lives just out
of the edge of imagination, in the haze of half-recalled images, song lyrics
with ellipses at each end, and fragrances that blend together like the Tempera
paint of out-of-control kindergarteners? You know the one – you are trying to
tell the story to yourself and remember that it was more than the classes you
cut, or job you lost, or the girl who dumped you? Several strategies come to
mind, and fortunately for me, as a novelist and a book reviewer, most of them
involve story-telling.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<i>The Pursuit of Cool, </i>a
new novel by Robb Skidmore(TMIK Press, 2012), could be counted as a
coming-of-age story about three kids who bond as suite mates as freshmen in
college. By the same logic, you would call <i>The
Grapes of Wrath</i> a travel journal. The place of the novel is AnyPrepTown,
USA, but the time? It is SO ‘80’s, SO Reagan, SO age of greed, and SO tinged
with the dissatisfaction that living a life dictated by what your image should
be rather than who you are that it just might define the decade.</div>
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You remember the ‘80’s, right? Remember those big-hair
rock-pop bands that MTV sold us? I thought so. But do you remember all the
alt-music that came from bands with names like Siouxsie and the Banshees or the
lyrical but almost painfully dark Bauhaus? No, I thought you might have
forgotten them. I began the novel riding on memory lane, in that happy
storytelling mode of “Oh, yeah, I remember where I was when I heard that.” At
first, I found myself hating but envying
the beach-bum gorgeous Ian Lacoss, identifying with the brilliant but socially
maladroit Charles Boyd, and riding the narrative wave with the inner monologue
of lead protagonist Lance Rally as they make their way through their first
years of collegiate liberation from parental control. Soon, however, I was
buried under the cultural references. I found that it was easier to read <i>The Pursuit of Cool</i> with my computer
open, Goodsearch.com on one tab and Youtube on another, in order to do quick
lookups. In fact, the book owns “cool:” defining it, bringing it into your
eyes, ears, and even your nose, and piercing you with it if you allow.</div>
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The narrator hovers over Lance like a thought translator who
has a point-of view only slightly more in-the-know than Lance himself. I am
reminded of the role of Nick Calloway from The Great Gatsby. Nick’s “truth”
about Gatsby changes – he assets that Gatsby is a landed scion one moment and a
self-made man in another – based on Calloway’s own evolving sense of reality.
Lance asserts, through his narrator, an evolving sense of reality that shows a
young man totally unprepared to confront a life that offers him his own
independent choices. Through the first
two-plus years of his college career, every interaction is about what his image
is. This obsession with looking suave, sexy, caring, sympathetic, resilient –
in a word, “cool” – is Lance’s way of confronting girls, friends, classes,
alcohol, everything. Since his family gave him only one option of how to be in
college – high GPA, Honors/Awards, Internships and all those other
prerequisites to the Top 10 MBA, it is not surprising that Lance is left to his
own devices when his path veers off the Gordon Gekko indenture.</div>
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Weighing in at 410 pages, <i>The Pursuit of Cool</i> did get slow for me by around page 300, because
this is not a plot-driven novel. In fact, by following the three boys becoming
men and reacting to growing up with all things Reagan, the book is a long essay
on the nature of “cool,” and whether such a thing is really attainable after
all. For me, the essay was too long. I would have preferred to part with some
of the exhaustive, encyclopedic cultural references in order to get to the
point: how do the three characters deal with the disillusionment of trying to
live someone else’s life? That having been said, Skidmore does a commendable
job at underscoring the existential question of an important period of American
history through the prism of the coming-of-age novel.</div>
</div>
The Aquabloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00012517864249324205noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3625721508293116891.post-91517904357851230712012-12-27T09:27:00.001-08:002012-12-27T09:27:16.189-08:00Unholyland: A Novel in Verse: a Review<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i><span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT; mso-bidi-font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;">Unholyland, </span></i><span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT; mso-bidi-font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;">a
Novel in Verse: a Review<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT; mso-bidi-font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;">Every now and then, a reader finds an author who consciously
strives to write A Novel of Great Significance. When a writer makes that
powerful and audacious claim, a deep and powerful matrix of setting, time,
mood, and human verity must be found within the pages. It doesn’t hurt to
unearth a nearly unused literary structure, one which was born (and perhaps
died) in the arms of Pushkin. Nor does it hurt the author to have functioned at
the top level of his art for over two decades. . <i>Unholyland,</i> by Aidan
Andrew Dun, is an epic poem made up of approximately 250 sonnets of a form
unused since Pushkin’s <i>Eugene Onegin</i>. Speaking with a level of lyricism
that bears comparison to <i>Onegin</i>, <i>Unholyland</i> depicts forbidden love and a millennium-old
legacy against the backdrop of one of the most intractable scenarios in human
history, the Israel-Palestine conundrum.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.8pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT; mso-bidi-font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;">For those who have encountered <i>Onegin</i>
mainly through Tchaikovsky’s eponymous opera, a brief review of plot might
serve. Set in Tsarist Russia, the archetypal novel in verse follows the
dissolute title character, a wealthy twentysomething heritor of the Russian
equivalent of a grand Southern plantation, where slaves are replaced with
serfs. Onegin befriends a poet, Lensky, not yet twenty, who links Onegin to two
sisters, one of whom falls desperately in love with Onegin, but whose passions
are rebuffed coldly. Onegin and Lensky stumble over each other’s intentions at
a country ball that parodies the social schedules of the idle Russian rich.
Lensky challenges Onegin to a duel. Through further mishap, the duel comes off,
and Onegin slays Lensky. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT; mso-bidi-font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;">Onegin drifts around the world, never
able to overcome his guilt. He winds up in Moscow, where he encounters the
younger sister. She is now married to an elderly prince.Onegin tries to undo
what he had done by spurning her years ago. The girl, now a woman even more beautiful
than she had been as a youth, now spurns Onegin to remain true to her husband,
while blaming him for the loss of their one opportunity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.8pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT; mso-bidi-font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;">Mr. Dun assures me that the saga of <i>Unholyland</i>
continues, so that full plot comparisons are premature. To understand what Dun
is attempting, it is important to see why <i>Onegin</i> towers over much of
nineteenth-century literature, and why the setting of <i>Unholyland </i>provides
an epochal parallel.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.8pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT; mso-bidi-font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;">The character of Onegin represents the
beginning of the end of the idle rich. The historical fact of the French
Revolution and the upheavals in Europe that paused bloodily in 1848 certainly
impacted all the nineteenth century novelists, especially the Russians (think
Chekhov and his play <i>The Cherry Orchard</i>). Onegin’s desolation at the end
of the novel represents the inherent purposelessness of wealth <i>qua</i>
wealth, and Lensky’s martyrdom strikes me as the temporary subjugation of the
will of the people that Karl Marx was already writing about. The girl, who we
see later as a fully developed woman Tatyana, represents the truth and fidelity
of the common man – a prototype for Marxian thought that would define the
twentieth century.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT; mso-bidi-font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;">Dun’s leading character, Moshe Rambam
is the greightieth-great-grandson of the leading rabbi Rav Moshe Ben Maimon,
known to history as Maimonides. There is no more famous figure in Jewish
history than Maimonides, so the reader is warned against projecting any
preconceived notions on his descendant. Moshe (usually called Moss in the
novel) is a dreadlocked, pot-smoking, slingshot-rapping youth, about to be
forced into his obligatory two years of military service. He crosses
effortlessly into Palestinian youth culture, where oppression and poverty are
the métier. This creates a paradox that seems more befitting of Lensky in the
Russian novel-in-verse than of Onegin, but Dun’s vision of Israel reveals
itself not as an old, crumbling estate that will fall of its own weight, but
rather, an oppressor that will be just as liberated as the oppressed when the
state of oppression ends. Rambam’s
slightly older Palestinian best friend Rayyan never turns against Rambam, but
the tension from Rayyan’s people’s occupation by the Rambam’s people grips this
reader as a second skin while reading – a shadow of foreboding. Still, the image
of a scion of power reaching out and trying to blend with the powerless is
almost a trope, having featured prominently since Victor Hugo’s fluid use of
power and poverty in <i>Les Misèrables.</i> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT; mso-bidi-font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;">The critical three-day period occurs on
the first days of the Hebrew month of Nisan, on the Passover festival, in which
Jews commemorate the Exodus from slavery to freedom. Dun leaves the Biblical
reference more or less unexploited; he’s an artist, not a demagogue, but the
irony is not lost on the reader. Moss, as Moshe is known colloquially
throughout the book (except when he faces certain death at a Palestinian
nightclub, where his fluency in Arabic and his Mediterranean features allow him
to pass as Musa), is nearly killed as he crosses over to Palestine, and is rescued
by Rayyan’s sister. In any other setting, and in less inspired hands, what
follows would not be exceptional. Girl saves boy. Girl heals boy. Girl falls in
love with other boy. First boy is set up to meet second girl. They fall in
love. Will they live happily ever after?
But nothing is certain, not even love, under the shadow of occupation. I
will make two further literary references, and in these two references, the
detectives among you will find a spoiler. Therefore, I will not annotate these:
Shakespeare’s <i>Romeo and Juliet</i> (cited by Moss Rambam in the text) and
John Singleton’s 1991 drama <i>Boyz in the Hood.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT; mso-bidi-font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;">The structure of the sonnets that
comprise this novel and Pushkin’s work is three quatrains with contrasting
rhyme schemes ABAB, CCDD, EFFE, and a concluding rhymed couplet. Unlike
Pushkin, who stuck strictly to iambic pentameter in Russian, Dun allows for
excellent bleedthrough of the “slingshot hip-hop” resistance culture of the
West Bank. Liberating the stanzas of the strict rhythmic leg-irons allows the
poetry to dance when this is called for, such as in the following description
of Jalila, the sixteen-year-old leader of the Slingshot Hip-Hop movement:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Roman;">When I first heard her in Shatila<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Roman;">I realized she was a healer,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Roman;">a poet and a peacemaker,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Roman;">a woman and an earthshaker.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Roman;">She’s what the Arab world’s waiting for…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.8pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT; mso-bidi-font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;">I feel a shift from the first couplet
(itself a pivot from the more classical verse that preceeds it) to the second
couplet, which calls forth Jimi Hendrix to this reader. The actual raps are Dun’s
imagination of the English translation over the Palestinian background music.
This flexibility might have been unacceptable in Pushkin’s time, but it is
mandatory in ours. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT; mso-bidi-font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;">Dun ranges from the rough graphics of
the above quatrain to verses that sound more like the Song of Songs, like this
description of the heroine Jalila:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Roman;">To some she brings velvet fruition,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Roman;">to some, disastrous attrition,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Roman;">the wearing down of all their dreams.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 4.8pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT; mso-bidi-font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;">Or how about this couplet, and its
simile across three thousand years: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Roman;">Nazareth: Mobile phones, like ears of barley,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Roman;">buzz with life in her underbelly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT; mso-bidi-font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;">I was captured by Dun’s lyricism from
the first page, but never more so than at the first idyll between Moss and
Jalilah. I quote the sonnet in its entirety, and an analog from the Song of
Songs:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Roman;">The atmospheric garden pleases;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Roman;">it’s like being on another planet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Roman;">Here’s a waterfall that freezes;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Roman;">here’s a fruiting pomegranate<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Roman;">where – through the dark – a nightingale<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Roman;">sang last night its lyric tale.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Roman;">Ah! Here they are, sharing a joke<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Roman;">it seems, by a Palestinian oak.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Roman;">Jalilah wears her black-fringed headshawl,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Roman;">Moss has let his dreads hang loose.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Roman;">Dove-calls seem to plead and seduce.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Roman;">Now they wander by the waterfall<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Roman;">talking where a rainbow – over ferns –<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Roman;">makes a promise, while cool silver churns.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT; mso-bidi-font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;">And Song of Songs Chapter 4: 10-17 (tr.
Chabad.org):<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Roman;">10: My beloved raised his voice and said to
me, “Arise, my beloved, my fair one, and come away;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Roman;">11: For behold, the winter has assed, the
rain is over and gone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Roman;">12. The blossoms have appeared in the land,
the time of singing has arrived, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in
our land.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Roman;">13. The fig tree has put forth its green
figs, and the vines with their tiny grapes have given forth their fragrance;
arise, my beloved, my fair one, and come away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Roman;">14. My dove, in the clefts of the rock, in
the coverture of the steps, show me your appearance, let me hear your voice,
for your voice is pleasant and your appearance is comely.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Roman;">15. Seize for us the foxes, the little foxes,
who destroy the vineyards, for our vineyards are with tiny grapes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Roman;">16. My beloved is mine, and I am his, who
grazes among the roses.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times-Roman;">17. Until the sun spreads, and the shadows
flee, go around; liken yourself, my beloved, to a gazelle or to a fawn of the
hinds, on distant mountains.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT; mso-bidi-font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;">I found that the more intense the plot became, the less
tight the poetry. By Chapter 7 (out of eight), I found myself given a green
light to speed through, and this disappointed me. Dun’s poetic forces surge
back in time to create a dramatic climax, right when it is needed. Even on the very last page, Dun gives us a
plot twist in verse. I would imagine that, as the author of a novel in verse
that was premiered at Royal Albert Hall, Dun is well in control of the
theatrical elements in his writing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT; mso-bidi-font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;">Unholyland</span></i><span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT; mso-bidi-font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;"> is not for the passive reader. This is
not simple art. It’s not even an uncluttered story of young love. It’s not a
one-sided political screed; not any apologetic for either side. Dun calls out
the British, the Turks, and the Zionists, and (do NOT read a comparison or edit
out this parenthetical note!!!) the Nazis without equating anyone to anyone
else This is dangerous, challenging reading; don’t look here for a right or a
wrong. There is an ample, excellently
documented preface and good enough endnotes to establish Dun’s own point of
view. In the end, the art will have to stand on its own. This reviewer believes
that it will do just that, long after the inevitable firestorm disappears like
sand in a flash flood.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
The Aquabloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00012517864249324205noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3625721508293116891.post-81060790639196349062012-12-26T15:40:00.000-08:002012-12-26T15:45:08.501-08:00Meet Luna Nightwyn and her 13-y. o. Protag!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Ronald:</span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;"> Hi, Luna and Crystal, I’m glad to have you on my blog. First off, like any good partnerships, I want to know how you first met.</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Luna: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Well honestly Ronald, I met Crystal when I finally sat down and started putting the idea for the storyline for my book Legend 13.</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Crystal: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Yeah, she was very indecisive at first too. She was going to start the first chapter with me, but later she went with my older brother Owen.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Ronald:</span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;"> Luna, tell me what would happen if Crystal weren’t listening.</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Luna: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Well, Crystal is only 13 and 14 in the book, so that happens more than you imagine.</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Crystal: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Hey Now!<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"></b></span></div>
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<i style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">(Luna glances over to Crystal and raises an eyebrow.)</span></i></div>
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<i style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">(Crystal crosses her arms and sighs.)</span></i></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Luna: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">It has led to a lot of my writers block over the past year.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Ronald: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">What do you like most about Crystal?</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Luna: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">I like the fact that she is persistent and she isn’t afraid to let the reader know she is having emotionally weak moments.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Ronald: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">What would you say was the quality you like least her?</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Luna: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Well as a teenager, she makes some poor choices.</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Crystal: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Well, how would you react if the power went off everywhere? And as for Todd, we are not going there.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Ronald:</span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;"> Crystal, how would you describe Luna?</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Crystal: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">I like her. I mean she put me through many scary things. But I know she loves me.<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"></b></span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Ronald:</span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;"> Do you like being written by her?</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Crystal: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Yeah, because I know that she listens to what I think. If she had a scene in mind and I told her that I wasn’t going to do that, she asked me what I would do. It made several parts of the book waaay different. And she designed the Sap Sphere in Photoshop. How cool is that? I know her daughter Rosie who is 13, wants one and her book for Christmas. So Luna designed one on some website.</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Ronald:</span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;"> Luna, describe Legend 13 in a way that will appeal to my audience.</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Luna: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Legend 13 is about the coming prophesied date 12-21-2012. The date wasn’t originally set by the Maya people, but long before them in the age of magic. Long ago, a spell was cast to banish magic from the earth that had become contaminated by humans who used what was once a tool for self-serving purposes. This constant misuse tainted it and it became unstable. That is why for so many years people were tortured and killed in the name of magic, though today we don’t know why.<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">And of course the scientific community is left trying to figure out what is causing the black outs and strange phenomenon but as the year comes to a close they have to admit that there is more going on than first expected.<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"> </b>Crystal and her family and friends then try to work together to prevent the veil from falling.</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Crystal: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">You forgot about that secret society psycho that has been stalking us. He tried to shoot me!</span></div>
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<i style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">(Luna looks at Crystal and shrugs.)</span></i></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Luna: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">There are those who work against them, making their task even more dangerous.</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Crystal: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Understatement of the year.</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Ronald:</span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;"> Crystal, what you think about being fictional?</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Crystal: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Fictional? After all I went through, you’re going to tell me this all wasn’t real? AAaagghhh!</span></div>
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<i style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">(Crystal rubs her hands over her face and tugs at her hair.)</span></i></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Luna: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Shhh Ronald, I didn’t tell her that.<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"></b></span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Crystal: </span></b><i style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">This is so not happening….</span></i><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;"></span></div>
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<i style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">(Ronald turns to Luna as Crystal pulls herself back together.)</span></i></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Ronald:</span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;"> What in your life made you want to do this crazy thing of putting words on a page or in a file, and hoping someone cares?</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Luna: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">The plot had been dancing in my head for years but then once the DSL modem went down for weeks and we had no T.V. or internet. I would write a bit then later my kids would come around and I would read it to them. They both loved it so I just kept writing. I ended up reading a bit to my older brother, and then he insisted that I write in a character to represent him.<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"> </b>I figured if they all liked it, so much I might as well share it.</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Ronald:</span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;"> Now, Luna, tell me all about this book and prequels/sequels. – Spoilers can be left out. Crystal, you may interrupt, but I have the delete key!</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Luna: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">There is definitely more. When I wrote the original outline, I had planned for a book two. There are so many more storylines I can go with it.</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Crystal: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">What about Zachery?</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Luna: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">What about him?</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Crystal: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Does he? You know?<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"></b></span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Luna: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">No, I don’t know.<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"></b></span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Crystal: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Well he is one of the dragon people.<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"></b></span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Luna: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Yeah, and?<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"></b></span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Crystal: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Ugh! Never mind!</span></div>
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<i style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">(Luna stares at Crystal a moment, shakes her head, then looks back at Ronald.)</span></i></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Luna: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Um, ok then.</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Ronald:</span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;"> OK, Goofy stuff.</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Ronald:</span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;"> Favorite piece of music or song:</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Luna: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">River Flows in You by Yiruma.<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"></b></span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Crystal: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">A Thousand Years by Christina Perri.<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"></b></span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Ronald:</span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;"> Favorite recording artist or group:</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Luna: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">TSO.</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Crystal: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Oh My God, I love Trans-Siberian Orchestra!<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"></b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;"><b>Ronald: </b>ROFL! Do you even KNOW how many people beside us know about TSO!!?</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Ronald:</span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;"> NY Times or Post?</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Luna: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Both, I like reading mutable sources.<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"></b></span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Crystal: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Internet, but if the power isn’t restored I don’t think either will continue to exist.</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Ronald:</span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;"> Wine, beer, or liquor?</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Luna: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Liquor. I have an intolerance for beer it makes me sick, same thing with some wines.<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"></b></span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Crystal: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Is he kidding? I am only 14! (Again, Crystal, ROFL - my main character was a pass-out alcoholic by the time she was 15, but she still wound up being CEO of a big Mexican consulting company)</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Ronald:</span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;"> Poetry or song lyrics?</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Luna: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">I am not so definitive. And it depends on my mood.</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Crystal: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Luna writes poetry… She has a book of a collection she had written since she was 13. So Luna’s poetry.</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Ronald:</span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;"> Pizza or pâté?</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Crystal: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">What is pâté?</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Luna:</span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;"> I dunno…<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"></b></span></div>
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<i style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">(Crystal pulls open her laptop and googles it.)</span></i></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Crystal: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">It’s a paste made of meat. Sounds like spam.<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"></b></span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Luna and Crystal: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Pizza!</span><br />
<span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;"><br /></span>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Ronald:</span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;"> How do we find your blog, email you, or buy your books?</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Luna: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">I am on Amazon, and Smashwords, and hopefully soon Barnes and Noble. You can visit me at Nightwyn.com or my Book’s site Legend13.com. there are forms that you can email me right from these sites.</span></div>
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<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">Crystal: </span></b><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 1.22em;">There are links, videos, and neat stuff about the book on the Legend 13 site.<b style="line-height: 1.22em;"></b></span></div>
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<a href="http://legend13.com/" style="color: blue; cursor: pointer; line-height: 1.22em;" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 1.22em;">http://legend13.com</span></a><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 1.22em;"></span></div>
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<a href="http://nightwyn.com/" style="color: blue; cursor: pointer; line-height: 1.22em;" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 1.22em;">http://nightwyn.com</span></a><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 1.22em;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 1.22em;">Amazon: </span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Legend-13-2012-ebook/dp/B008ZND7MC/" style="color: blue; cursor: pointer; line-height: 1.22em;" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 1.22em;">http://www.amazon.com/Legend-13-2012-ebook/dp/B008ZND7MC/</span></a><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 1.22em;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 1.22em;">Smashwords: </span><a href="http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/259124" style="color: blue; cursor: pointer; line-height: 1.22em;" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 1.22em;">http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/259124</span></a><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 1.22em;"></span></div>
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The Aquabloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00012517864249324205noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3625721508293116891.post-15193377828121314542012-12-15T06:37:00.001-08:002012-12-15T06:37:20.576-08:00Sallie's Book Reviews and More: Interview with DM Yates, Author of Always<a href="http://yesterdaydaugher.blogspot.com/2012/12/interview-with-donna-yates-author-of.html?showComment=1355582190015#c2910044740544429286">Sallie's Book Reviews and More: Interview with DM Yates, Author of Always</a>The Aquabloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00012517864249324205noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3625721508293116891.post-7102273171040134902012-12-13T11:27:00.001-08:002012-12-13T12:44:11.726-08:00Magic Words, a Review<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I like reading important stories. I like reading
well-written stories even more. I even hope that <i>3 Through History </i>(https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/239509) is such a tale. When both needs are satisfied in one reading
experience, I like to make it clear to as many people as possible that I have
found a gem, a book that will live with the reader as a work of art and as a
collection of memorable scenes and unforgettable characters. </div>
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Such a book it <i>Magic
Words, </i>a meticulously researched historical novel by Gerald Kolpan (2012,
Pegasus). The title is a complex play on words. By themselves, the magic refers
to two magicians, an older and a much younger brother, who both used the same
stage name and between whom there was bad blood boiling, both personal and
professional, that extended to affairs of heart and bed, finally resulting in
the murder that opens and closes the book. The “words” belonged to the
protagonist and major character, Julius Meyer, whose rare gift for languages
earned him the title of Speaker of the Ponca Indians, that tribe that was
decimated in the Trail of Tears exile. As a phrase, the title captures the
power that words, language, and books
have always had for Jews, and when this particular Jew, Julius, finds the
Ponca, the phrase is transformed into a kind of prayer.</div>
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Kolpan sets himself a prodigious task. The mystery of the
murder at the beginning is only solved at the end, and then in such a way that
the reader is almost banging the book against the nightstand, demanding that
three new questions be answered. So if this were a mere whodunit, it would
stand up well. If it were the improbable story of the intrigue between two
brothers, several assistants, and other figures of nineteenth-century hocus-pocus
and illusion, the reader would be well-rewarded. But this narration informs us
of a timeless revelation into what it means to be Jewish, discovered only by
Julius One-Tongue Meyer after years of living at once an “egg-eater” and a
Ponca: “Sometimes, I imagine the Ponca
are this tribe that was lost to me all that time ago – my people returned from
wandering,” Julius tells his betrothed. Our wandering brings us closer to
ourselves, if only we can recognize the lost tribesman from whom we were
separated, literally or figuratively, so long ago.</div>
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The Aquabloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00012517864249324205noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3625721508293116891.post-24736923772201735802012-12-09T18:43:00.000-08:002012-12-09T18:43:26.480-08:00Guest interview - The Fab Vallory Vance and her Main Character, Lena<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Hi, Vallory and Lena I’m glad to have you on my blog. First off,
like any good partnerships, I want to know how you first met.</i></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">Vallory: I should probably take this one. I was at an outdoor
concert totally into the music and had a thought about what these guys, who had
to the power to hold a crowd of thousands entranced, were like at home. I kept
thinking about their wives and girlfriends and parents and kids. Ethan spoke to
me first and then I met Lena.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">Vallory, tell me what you would tell me if your character
weren’t listening. Why do you love him/her? Hate him/her?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">Vallory: I love Lena. I wish I could be her. Super-mom with a
clean house and balanced meals and yoga and looking all cute!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>What drives you craziest about him/her?</i></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">Vallory: I hate shopping and I have to envision outfits to keep
up with her image.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>You might know my son through his fictional avatar, Ezra the
Dream-Traveller. He’s eleven-years-old. Would you introduce your character to
Ezra – do it now, please!</i></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">OK, (character wakes up). </span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>ROFL!! Nothing like dodging a question by claiming that the questioner was asleep! </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 16pt;"><i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Lena, welcome to my blog. I don't get a chance to talk to fictional characters often; perhaps that's why I wrote someone else's character into my latest novel. Now that I have your ears, how would you describe Vallory Vance?
Do you like being written by her?</span></i><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">Lena Spencer: Vallory has her moments, but she can be a little
scattered and is frequently late.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Each of you, tell me about a time when you had to share
something with each other.</i></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">Lena: I shared with Vallory the importance of having a schedule.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">Vallory: And I shared with Lena that the muse cannot be
scheduled!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Now, how about a time when you had an argument.</i></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">Vallory: I think this is it right now. As Lena and I have
discussed, I’m not as organized as her. Therefore she has to cut me some slack.
Jeez, I feel like Ethan!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">Lena: Do you think that was…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Vallory, describe your novels in a way that will appeal to my
audience.</i></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">I like to think I write sweet and sexy romances that allow the
reader a fun escape.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Lena, what do you think about being fictional?</i></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">Lena: It’s very hard to explain. I’m pretty real to myself!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 16pt;"><i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Vallory, I’m going back to that first question. Did you start
the book with Lena, with the plot, or some other way?</span></i><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">Vallory: I think I started with the hero’s job and went from
there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>What in your life made you want to do this crazy thing of
putting words on a page or in a file, and hoping someone cares?</i></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">Vallory: I’ve always wanted to be a writer and finally at 40, I
decided just to do it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Now, Vallory, tell me all about this book and prequels/seuels. –
Spoilers can be left out. Lena, you may interrupt, but I have the delete key!!</i></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">Vallory: Music for Her Soul is a contemporary second chance
romance. Ethan Holden is returning after a 10 month European tour to reclaim
the heart of Lena Spencer. And as you’ve seen if it’s not on Lena’s schedule,
it takes a lot to it done.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>OK: Goofy stuff.</i></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Favorite piece of music:</i></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">
I’m really into Ray Charles and B.B. Kings’ Sinners’ Prayer right now.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Favorite recording artist:</i></span></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;"> The Purple One - Prince<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>NY Times or Post?</i></span></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;"> Times<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Wine, beer, or liquor?</i></span></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;"> Wine – Pinot Grigio<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Poetry or song lyrics?</i></span></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;"> Song Lyrics<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Pizza or paté?</i></span></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;"> Pizza (but still love pate)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-size: 16pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>How do we find your blog, email you, or buy your books?</i></span></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;"> You can
find me on the </span><a href="http://www.valloryv.wordpress.com/"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">Vallory
V Blog</span></a><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">, </span><a href="https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/ValloryVance"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">Smashwords</span></a><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;"> and </span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Vallory-Vance/e/B00A7IEGSM/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1"><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">Amazon</span></a><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Calibri; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma;">!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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The Aquabloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00012517864249324205noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3625721508293116891.post-68956272852895293262012-12-01T13:23:00.001-08:002012-12-24T07:43:18.883-08:00When We Danced on Water by Evan Fallenberg, a review<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
When We Danced on Water: A Novel<br />
<br />
Dear Hitler:<br />
<br />
If the word didn’t strangle me, I might thank you for creating a world that brought forth the legendary power and strength of my people. You yourself, through your propaganda film department, documented our ends, but you left it to masters of fiction like Evan Fallenberg to tell our stories of survival. You have created a universe of pain behind you. It’s not our deaths we rage against in the generations that follow; it’s the pain of the last three years, the last five years, the last twelve years, even, in the case of some of us, the last fifty or sixty years of our lives. You called us vermin; we looked our torturers in the eye and spat on them as we endured their blows.<br />
<br />
Just ask Teo. Ask him, Herr Hitler, what he did the final moment of the War, when he escaped his six year slavery as the personal plaything of an obsessed monster, who rose to be your top Minister of Culture before this slavemaster was pressed into service as an increasingly overmatched lieutenant, Captain, Lieutenant General, and finally, escapee. Ask your Baron Friedrich von Sadistschafft how many boys he demolished on the way to his enslavement of potentially the best male dancer of his era, possibly even a rival to Nijinsky. Go to Israel, and ask Teo’s friend of his twilight, Vivi, whose life was dissolute, fading, even, at the age of forty-two, who met your survivor of Reichskutltursschafft and, fired full of passion, the holy twin of obsession, created legendary installations in defiance of everything you were and everything you twisted your people into becoming. Ask their child, conceived on the very last night of Teo’s life, the eternal tribute to the fact that you were defeated, whereas we were merely destroyed. From every destruction there are survivors, memories. From your defeat, a shame that no one nation could bear, not even one Germany.<br />
<br />
We, the readers of Evan Fallenberg’s masterful tale, will feel the passion that Fallenberg nurtures, from the Teo’s first studio, the parks and balustrades of Warsaw, to the school in Copenhagen where he would emerge, ready to take over the Reich’s balletic imagination, to Teo’s capture, enslavement, and violation at the hand of the evil of this culture officer’s obsession. We will walk the streets of your Berlin with Vivi, the Israeli whose life, and passion, had fallen out of focus at the hand of another German, who could not shoulder your burden alone. We will feel the would that seared your city’s heart for thirty years. We will follow Vivi back to the streets of Tel Aviv where, through her association and eventual romance with Teo, discovered a wellspring of passion inside herself and went from coffee-shop waitress and dilettante to the artist to whom presidents paid obeisance. Finally, I call on your rotten bones to twist and cry out like the Biblical victims of Dathan and Abiram, wailing your apologies to the grave while Teo’s and Vivi’s son Nathaniel, “Given by G!d,” dances in some decades on your metaphoric and real grave.<br /><br />We, the survivors, their grandchildren, their neighbors and the descendants of their neighbors, read the words masterfully imagined by Mr. Fallenberg, and we give praise for passion, for it is passion that creates true art.<br /><br />You can watch Evan Fallenberg read from his novel When We Danced on Water at the PEN Written on Water festival at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P-okE1VVvQI&feature=related<br />
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The Aquabloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00012517864249324205noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3625721508293116891.post-17926475761472493892012-11-25T10:04:00.000-08:002012-11-25T10:04:27.101-08:00Girl, Unwrapped - A review by Ronald Fischman<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I am almost as old as Gabriella Goliger. This may, in fact,
be a disadvantage in reading and enjoying Girl, Unwrapped by Ms. Goliger, a
long-term Canadian whose first novel has erupted on the world after fifty years
of practice. I am no stranger to memoir;
my first novel is about 50% memoir. Neighter am I a stranger to Montreal,
having hiked (and I use the term with full knowledge) the elevation from McGill
up to the top of the mountain on which Toni Goldblatt, Goliger’s lead, spends
her earliest years. The coming-of-age story of young Ms. Goldblatt seems as
vital as the stories I hear from the college girls in my creative writing
classes. The advantage that Goliger shares with us is the distance – a good
thirty years – that brings with it the wisdom to choose just those moments that
made Toni who she became.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Born to Holocaust survivors, Toni’s life goes off the
greased rails of her parents’ expectations in the primary grades, when her
mother brings home one pouffy, girly textile monstrosity after another. Young
Toni, the epitome of tomboy, is as horrified by these creations as her mother
is with the scruffy, dirty jeans and tops that she favors. Toni’s body further
trumps her mother’s expectations, growing tall and rail-thin, like her father.
Her expulsion from summer camp after her drunken pledge of eternal devotion and
love for the music teacher, a woman, cement her status as a lost child for her
poor mother. I almost feel sorry for Toni’s mom – almost.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is how Goliger shines. I feel the spirit of the
androgynous child. I feel the passion of her desperate crush on the music
teacher, incredibly hot and barely old enough to be called a woman. I feel the
need to connect, in Zionism, with an idea greater than oneself. I see the
women, young and old, of Toni’s life through her emerging lesbian eyes, not my
own. There is only one beef I have with
this excellent memoir. Goliger is of the “Hope-I-Die-Before-I-Get-Old”
generation. It shows. Her protagonist lives 35% of this book as a child, and
another 35% meeting her first crush and chasing her all the way to <st1:country-region w:st="on">Israel</st1:country-region>. That
leaves thirty percent of the book. I say that Goliger tried too hard to work
Toni’s identity as a young adult lesbian in here, as if there wouldn’t be
another book. Or could it be that the juice of Toni’s life is sucked dry by the
time she is only 25? As “Girl, Unwrapped,” Toni is pretty well unwrapped and
exposed by the time she ends her girlhood. As deeply as I bonded with Ms.
Goliger’s character through her exodus from girlhood, I would have gladly read
a sequel that revealed how this coming of age tale formed the young woman that
I would have loved to come to know.</div>
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The Aquabloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00012517864249324205noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3625721508293116891.post-87690087047587989892012-11-21T06:39:00.000-08:002012-11-21T06:39:26.729-08:00Best Book for Very Old (and some very young)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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“Nothing, nothing I try, nothing I say, nothing I do, gets
through to her!” How many times have we, the sandwich generation, heard this
lament from our friends, our bridge partners, our work colleagues, or even
ourselves? The problem is that our aged parents are confronted with the growing
loss of mental capacity. Not being a clinician, I am not able to say what
degree of self-awareness the increasingly demented family member retains, I
know that the children or caregivers of elderly people facing dementia do not
enjoy “The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So what do we do? How do we make the hours we spend with the
elderly any form of a reward – or at least, not so punishing to our hearts and
to our psyches? Music therapy is great, and we know that music makes a
connection. In his new book, <i>Blue Sky
White Clouds: A Book for Memory-Challenged Adults </i>(2012, Rainbow Ridge
Books)<i>, </i>Eliezer Sobel creates a storyboard
of twenty-six evocative photographs in which the story ranges far, far beyond
the four or five 48-point words captioning the picture. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I first tried to use the book with a senior, I chose
for one example the picture of a row of pines blanketed in snow, arising from a
deep cottony landscape with the ever-so-common grey winter sky, rendered much
more friendly by the black-and-white format. I was able to create a
conversation about visiting a friend’s house for Christmas. My elderly friend
selected one of the trees in the picture and imagined decorations. I know that
I could have led an entire therapy session if that were my profession, using
Christmas ornaments, gingerbread cookies, and candles, then going deeper into a
patient’s own background to make deeper and deeper connections. My friend was
able to read the caption out loud, and with the book open to that picture,
remain engaged for fifteen minutes. What
a gift!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Because I am an older dad, I was able to test out another
hypothesis. I have long known that the cognitive abilities of children far
exceeds their reading level or even their linguistic capacities. Might the
rich, real, pictorial stories rendered in Sobel’s book hold the attention of
people at the opposite end of the age spectrum? My own daughter, at five years
of age just beginning to read, was able to turn to any picture and with some
help, read the caption. More importantly, the pictures evoked stories, coming
out almost without prompting from a little girl who has suffered from
expressive language delay. Ten minutes talking about a brilliant black and
yellow butterfly on a purple and white iris. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am suggesting, although I don’t have research to back this
up, that these evocative, rich pictures of the great and small, the very old
and very young, the tiny and the vast, reach in and touch the cognitive
function and emotional processing of the very old and the very young in a way
that is usually reserved for the music therapist. At 26 pages, the book is more
than manageable to the reader, and offers the caregiver the opportunity to
connect in a rich and vital way.</div>
</div>
The Aquabloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00012517864249324205noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3625721508293116891.post-1402992003511457522012-11-15T07:02:00.001-08:002012-11-15T07:02:18.054-08:00Review: Broad Street, by Christine Weiser<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
My days of sex ‘n’ drugs ‘n’ rock ‘n’ roll may be a long
time behind me. However, I am not alone in my admiration of people who pursue
their dream and their passion. Christine Weiser is such a person. The author of
<i>Broad Street</i>, a story of a young
twentysomething who finds a passion in music and taps into a talent that she
did not know she had, Weiser brings the reader into the life of young
musicians, musician wannabes, and hangers-on in a way that puts the reader on
the stage, in the studio, and between the sheets.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The narrator, Kit, starts the story as the humiliated
ex-girlfriend of a struggling musician. She has a bass guitar in her sparse
collection of stuff that survives the breakup. The bass guitar begins as an
afterthought – something not returned to a cheater who deserves it back – over his
head. She starts out as a Horatio Alger hero for the modern age – a girl in a
modern-day sweatshop, proofreading texts for medical authors, under the
hawk-eye of a boss who makes her tremble. The musical life, that she has found
through her boyfriend, serves as her escape. Her self-loathing is amplified by
the presence of her sister, Nikki, who is beautiful, smart, witty, and in love
with a married man. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Margo enters Kit’s life through a band party in which they
click over the small talk of the trade. What unites them is more the revenge
fantasy of forming a band and surpassing their cheating boyfriends than their
passion for musical expression. While hatching the plan for the band, from
which <i>Broad Street</i> gets its name, the
young women find that they really do have passion, and they can write sweet
songs, angry songs, and passionate songs in addition to revenge songs. More
importantly to them, they become best friends. Diligently, they work to master
their instruments, find a permanent drummer, and become the best girl band in <st1:city w:st="on">Philadelphia</st1:city>. Throughout
the birth and launch of the band, we find the young women, especially Kit,
drunk, hung over, and naked next to a man they didn’t know or who exploited
them. Screwing and getting screwed. A continuous metaphor for the music
business from women who were still at its periphery. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Kit’s great triumph comes near the end of the book, when she
reconciles with the father from whom she badly longed to win respect. Because
she needed some money to produce a professional demo, she has to make nice with
Papa – where she is redeemed when he tells her that she doesn’t need to make it
big to win his love.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Does the band hit it big? Do they get that breakthrough
recording contract? Those are not the key questions asked by <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on"><i>Broad Street</i></st1:address></st1:street><i>. </i>Rather, the book asks the question,
“What does a young person need in order to emerge as a fully fledged adult in
the postmodern world?” No one who reads this book can look back at her own
postcollegiate years the same way.</div>
</div>
The Aquabloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00012517864249324205noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3625721508293116891.post-33855394182010697182012-11-08T06:41:00.000-08:002012-11-08T06:41:06.425-08:00Review: What We Talk About When We Talk About Anne Frank, by Nathan Englander (Knopf, 2012) <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">Nathan Englander (</span><a href="http://www.nathanenglander.com/bio/" rel="nofollow" style="background-color: white; color: #666600; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" target="_blank">http://www.nathanenglander.com/bio/</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">) doesn't need my glowing review for his excellent 2012 collection</span><em style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">What We Talk About When We Talk About Anne Frank</em><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">, but maybe you do. The winner of the PEN/Malamud Award for Jewish fiction, the 42-year-old writer has re-established the short story as the prime </span><nobr style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><a class="FAtxtL" href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/451279293#" id="FALINK_3_0_2" style="background-color: transparent !important; border-bottom-color: rgb(28, 125, 255) !important; border-bottom-style: solid !important; border-bottom-width: 1px !important; color: rgb(28, 125, 255) !important; display: inline !important; padding-bottom: 1px !important;">vehicle</a></nobr><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> for the relating of history and the human reaction to it.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">I know something about </span><nobr style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><a class="FAtxtL" href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/451279293#" id="FALINK_2_0_1" style="background-color: transparent !important; border-bottom-color: rgb(28, 125, 255) !important; border-bottom-style: solid !important; border-bottom-width: 1px !important; color: rgb(28, 125, 255) !important; display: inline !important; padding-bottom: 1px !important;">writing history</a></nobr><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> in fiction. My novel </span><em style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">3 Through History: Love in the Time of Republicans (<a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/239509" rel="nofollow" style="color: #666600;" target="_blank">https://www.smashwords.com/books/view...</a>)</em><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">, covers secular Jewish life during the death and rebirth of History. From the Decline and Fall of the Soviet Union to the rise of violent Islamic jihad, I tell the story of three lives, up through their portentous meeting. Englander proves to be a true master in the parallel art of writing fiction in history. In particular, Englander creates the post-Holocaust traditional Jewish world in all of its pleasure, pain, and contradiction.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">The collection can be divided into three themes: Direct reaction to the Holocaust, Haredism meets modernity, and coming of age in the shadow of antisemitism. The stories take place equally on Long Island, where the author hails from and where I spent the happiest years of my professional life, and in Israel, where the struggles within the Jewish community turn Jew against Jew, community against community.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">The title story might be a shocker to non-Jews and the majority of Jews who lack a direct connection to the destruction of the Jewish civilization in Europe. Jews have reacted to lesser devastation, a community or a country at a time, either by abandoning the old mores or replicating their </span><em style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">shtetl,</em><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> lock, stock, and </span><em style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">shtreimel</em><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">. What would be done if the goal was annihilation, not simply exile? The "Anne Frank Game" is a macabre parlor game in which the assembled Jews ask each other that if a Nazi regime came to power in (pick one: England, the US, South Africa, Canada), what non-Jew would they hide with? Who would risk everything to do the right thing?</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">Another Holocaust story is at an Elderhostel bridge retreat that takes place on the same lake as a sleepaway camp. It turns out that, among Jews of a certain age, the little word "camp" is loaded. At once, it meant the Haredi bungalow colonies of upstate New York, the wider Movement camps like Ramah or Harlam, and ...Auschwitz.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">In New York and in Israel, the fight is between those who insist on recreating everything, including dress and language, from the home village, those who follow ritual law but dress in a way more consistent with the conservative members of the new community, and those who, whether the observe traditional Jewish law in private, are indistinguishable from the secular world around them. One story about this struggle tells of two Haredi families who establish an outpost in the Arab West Bank. One prospers, while the other falls into bereavement and madness. The outpost becomes an established city. The mad widow and bereaved mother is just as forgotten as the displaced Arabs.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">The last category in this collection is the coming of age story. It's one thing to grow up in bucolic Miller Place or Greenport on the North Shore of Long Island. It is altogether different to live on the South Shore, and fight for your right to attend the same</span><nobr style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"><a class="FAtxtL" href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/451279293#" id="FALINK_1_0_0" style="background-color: transparent !important; border-bottom-color: rgb(28, 125, 255) !important; border-bottom-style: solid !important; border-bottom-width: 1px !important; color: rgb(28, 125, 255) !important; display: inline !important; padding-bottom: 1px !important;">schools</a></nobr><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">, play on the same playground, even breathe the same air as racists, antisemites, and xenophobes. The Jewish kids in this collection bear the burden of the victims of the </span><em style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">pogroms</em><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> in Europe, even if their grandparents (like mine) got out before the rise of Nazism and the end of free immigration into the US made escape impossible.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">This is a collection that, taken together, paints the most complete picture of Orthodox Jewish life that I have ever read. Its themes of identity, rebellion, and dignity will connect to all readers, for "you know the heart of the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt." Englander will touch you in your own personal Egypt.</span></div>
The Aquabloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00012517864249324205noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3625721508293116891.post-55458207611452203262012-11-03T05:38:00.001-07:002012-11-03T05:38:56.646-07:00Sallie's Book Reviews and More: Interview with Ronald Fischman, Author of 3 Through History: Love in the Time of Republicans<a href="http://yesterdaydaugher.blogspot.com/2012/11/interview-with-ronald-fischman-author.html#comment-form">Sallie's Book Reviews and More: Interview with Ronald Fischman, Author of 3 Through History: Love in the Time of Republicans</a>The Aquabloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00012517864249324205noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3625721508293116891.post-62809793350780465012012-10-21T14:34:00.000-07:002012-10-21T14:34:18.109-07:00Writing Blogs Made Dead Simple<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Ever want to know what is behind those AOL/Google/Yahoo
headlines, like, “7 Ways to Better Sex tonight!” or “101 Techniques to Raising a
Healthy Teen,” or “Crazy New Weight-Loss Bean?” There is a science to this, and
Nick Thacker wants you to know how to use it. If you are blogging for a job,
Thacker can help you get more sales. If you want to penetrate the blogosphere
without selling a product, even better. Finally, and I will revisit this later,
you can follow Thacker’s suggestion to build up a community that will help you
sell books and help other writers. Let me put this in my opening paragraph: <a href="http://www.nickthacker.com/">http://www.nickthacker.com</a> or <a href="http://www.livehacked.com/">http://www.livehacked.com</a>. The books are
also available on Amazon.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Thacker chose for the first book in the <i>Dead Simple Guide </i>to address the topic of headlines. I don’t care
if your goal is to sell toothpaste, you will fare poorly if you use a headline
that folks will blow past when they search to find you – or your competitor.
When I’m searching, if I think an article will not help, I’ll leave it unread –
and move on, seeking a more likely-looking answer. Don’t you? Shouldn’t you
invest some time making sure that you would click on your article,
advertisement, or blog post if you were doing the searching? In <i>The Dead Simple Guide to Amazing Headlines, </i>Thacker
helps you think through this, and provides shortcuts if you choose to use them.
</div>
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<br /></div>
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Now you have your headline, or at least, you can conceive of
a headline that would sell your next blog post. Now what? You can make your
site awesome, make your content brilliant, and still attract nobody. I know. That’s
me. In the second book, <i>The Dead Simple
Guide to Guest Posts, </i>Thacker walks you through the process of creating
community, which causes people to link
to you, host your guest posts, and cross-promote your blog. What is missing
here is how to create the code on your site to do what you want. For example, I
don’t know how to sell my own book (on Smashwords.com) on my own Blogger page.
Hmmm.</div>
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The third book in the trilogy, <i>The Dead Simple Guide to Pillar Content,</i> shows that Thacker is
really a novelist at heart. “Creating Pillar Content.” Ever heard of it? I hadn’t,
either. Pillar content is why your blog exists. You need to make something
stand out to let people know who you are and why they should care. Thacker explains why you, a novelist, should
write about your philosophy of writing, how you develop your characters, where
your plot ideas come from, essentially who you are as a writer. Thacker
explains that, whether you are writing a blog on fishing or on writing, that
you make the “pillars” of your blog out of content that will draw readers.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Is this collection a real hack, meaning an elegant and quick
solution to an intractable problem, to your marketing and blogging issues? If,
like me, you don’t know much about the bits and bytes of what to do to achieve
your blog goals, maybe not. But for anyone with web design assets, or even a
few hundred bucks to handle the tech stuff, Thacker’s trilogy will set you on
the right path.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Don’t forget to buy my book <i>3 Through History: Love in the Time of Republicans</i>, at <a href="https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/239509">https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/239509</a>.
Thanks for reading!</div>
</div>
The Aquabloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00012517864249324205noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3625721508293116891.post-12940766124359105872012-10-20T15:43:00.003-07:002012-10-20T15:43:45.368-07:00Trying to Beat the Rap (2007)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> “Ab<u>a</u>,
I don’t want to quit playing with my trains. You can’t make me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Why, Ezra? I can sing your prayers to you and turn
off the light, and you can’t do a thing about it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“As soon as you go, I can turn the lights on again.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Would you really want to do that? Do you know what
is happening between <u>Ima</u> and me? We can beat this, you and I. I will
show her that I am 100% reliable, and you can show her that you listen to me,
and she won’t throw me out. We’ll save the family, OK, Ezra? <u>Azor li</u>.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Segal had long since dropped the pretense of using
the language of the Kibbutz of her dreams, and of the legends of her
fairy-tales. She noted, correctly as usual, that although Rafi’s English was
still heavily accented with Hebrew, his Hebrew had become worse because only
Rabbis spoke to him in Hebrew anymore, and their Hebrew hadn’t progressed much
past the early days of Statehood. So she
just ridiculed him when he spoke to their child in Hebrew. Of course, this
wasn’t always true, but there was also a time when she didn’t stick her nose
into the air, let her newly acquired triple-chins breathe, and walk right past
Rafi except to criticize something he had or had not done.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">That April, with no warning except for the
deteriorating atmospherics of their</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> marriage, she returned from an Overeaters
Anonymous meeting and declared, “I am declaring that our relationship, as you
have known it to be in the past, is over. We will no longer be husband and
wife. As such, you will move all your belongings out of my bedroom at once, and
any that remain will be taken to the curb as trash. I expect you to comply with
my decision.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Rafi half expected this. Despite everything that he
had done to meet her expectations, their marriage had reached the point of
hallway sex. That is, they would pass each other and she would say, “Fuck you!”
and he might respond in kind, only louder. So he gathered his left brain and
vocal apparatus, and responded, </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">“Since when could you just dissolve a marriage,
just like that? Are we Muslims, that you could say, “I divorce thee, I divorce
thee, I divorce thee,” and it’s over? What about our promises, our wedding
vows? What about this child? Should we tell Ezra’s birth mom that we screwed it
up, and now we’re going to fuck up her kid along with each other’s lives?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Don’t argue with me, Mister Professional Jew. I
have made my decision, and I expect that it will be carried out.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“God created this marriage, and you can’t sunder it.
We have Ezra here, and Ruchama Shachar in Guatemala City, and I’m their father.
You can try to take that away over my dead body.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Then you will throw your money away on a fruitless
quest? I’ll crush you like a grapeseed that got into the final pressing.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Now you’re the one getting Biblical. I don’t agree
to a divorce, and I live here, just as much as you do.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Fine. You will move your things into the spare
bedroom, and anything that is not out of my room by Wednesday goes out in the
trash.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">“<u>Lamah ha
holi-rah hazo</u>? </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Ever since we returned to Philadelphia,
I just work my ass off to be the best husband I can be, the best father for
Ezra and the best handyman, <u>b’Shem Adomai</u>. I go to work, I paint the
house, I do the yard, I weld the pipes, your <u>garab</u> all over and I clean
it up always, and you sit up there on your computer or in front of your TV with
your Law and Order, and I sit next to you for three hours you don’t talk to me.
And it’s my fault this marriage is failing? In the name of our child’s mother,
you broke this marriage, you help fix it!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Segal did not take kindly to this insult, the worst
that you can hurl at an adoptive parent.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“<u>Az lech l’Azazel ud’fok al atzmecha, mamzer zayin</u>!”
No translation needed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Now Rafi was bargaining with his five year old son
to go to bed. “We can beat this together. You show <u>Ima</u> that you will
listen to me, and she will know I am a good daddy. You have to listen to me.
You have to cooperate. Get changed for bed, and I will come up with a solution
that will let you play with your trains.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“OK <u>Aba</u>,” Ezra replied. “You don’t have to
stand here. I’ll do it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Five minutes later, Rafi returned to the sound of
“click, click, click,” where the mechanical trains were smacking together under
the guidance of the 5 year old conductor with rich latte skin with orange hues.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Ezra, what did you agree to? You want to help <u>Aba</u>
keep us together, right?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">“Un-huh.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">“<u>Az ma l’cha
k’var</u>? </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Let’s get you into your pajamas and I’ll tell you my
plan.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Ezra began to cooperate, as Rafi produced a
red-spectrum penlight that he had been given by his friend Mitch to use in
astronomy gatherings on the North Fork when they moved away. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“This light is bright enough that you can read by
it, but other people don’t see it because of its color. You go to bed, I read
you a story and sing to you, and then I will leave the room. I will be in my
bedroom. You go ahead and use the light so you can keep playing with your
trains. I will knock on your door when she comes in, and you stop clicking your
train cars and pretend to be asleep. Can you do that?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“If I do, will you stay and be my daddy and not let <u>Ima</u>
kick you out of the house like she says she’s gonna do?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I’ll try, Ezra, but even if I fail, I will never,
ever stop being your daddy. Remember the Little Nut Brown Hare?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I remember him, and he jumped so high and Big Nut
Brown Hare jumped higher and they said how much they loved each other, and …
How did it end, <u>Aba</u>?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“It didn’t end, Ezra, because no one could ever
measure the love that Big Nut-Brown Hare had for Little Nut-Brown Hare. And no
one could ever measure the love I have for you. I don’t know what <u>Ima</u>
will do. But if you help me, maybe she will see that we are better off as a
family, together.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“OK, <u>Aba</u>.” Ezra started pulling off his
clothes. A cloud of dread filled Rafi’s brain, and when it lifted, he saw a
Jewish man, his wife, and his four-year-old son practicing hiding in trap doors
and in the chimney. In the story, which Rafi had read during his course at
Gratz College on Holocaust literature, the man was dressed in a drab brown suit
that had never been much to look at even before the war, but now, invisibility
carried a premium – survival. At this moment, the man was wearing the
characteristic striped prison garb of Auschwitz. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Ezra woke Rafi up from his walking nightmare.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“<u>Aba</u>?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“<u>Kein, motek</u>? “<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Do you remember when we painted this rainbow
racetrack on my wall?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Of course I do. I taped it and measured it, and
helped you put the paint on.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“If <u>Ima</u> kicks you out, and you have to have a
new house, would I have a bedroom?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yes, Ezra.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Can we paint a rainbow oval racetrack, like at the
Piston Cup?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“You can count on it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Ezra was asleep before Rafi finished the lullaby
version of Bernstein’s Simple Song, which had become Ezra’s bedtime song. Psalm
121, I will lift up my eyes to the hills from whence comes my help. <u>Me’ayin
yavo Ezri.</u> Ezra kept the red
penlight with Rafi’s blessings.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
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The Aquabloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00012517864249324205noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3625721508293116891.post-92026269794395847512012-10-13T19:56:00.002-07:002012-10-13T20:09:23.724-07:00Alone, but More So (2006)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Usually, Frida would put her T-shirt or nightgown on after. Now
she was still naked. Intentionally so. She had decided that there was no right
way to say this, so she elected to do it completely vulnerable.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“César,” she began, sliding her finger down his olive-toned arm
to his index finger.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“<u>Si</u>?” He had been admiring Frida’s graceful form, and now
raised his eyes upward to meet hers. Frida guided his hand to her belly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I am pregnant. You are going to be a father.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Pause.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The expression in English, “pregnant pause” came back to her.
Maestro Garza at BUAP had used it so often, but that was so long ago. She
hadn’t been back to BUAP since she had met César, except on a date.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Pause.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Well, aren’t you going to say something? Happy? Sad? Was there
salmonella in the <u>boeuf bourguignonne</u>? Did I fuck the words out of your
tongue, <u>burro</u>?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I already am a father, Frida.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“And as long as we have been together, and as often as we’ve
made love, it is inevitable that a form of birth control that is 99% effective
would yield one pregnancy in this whole time. Now you have a five-year-old,
Gabriel is 4, and you will have another one, maybe even Daddy’s little girl.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Pause.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The fire rose out of Frida’s womb. “Say something, damn you!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Frida,” César offered, “I had never thought about another
child. I had never thought about any changes; my life is perfect just as it is
now. I have a solid practice with a healthy backlog of work, I have the perfect
queen of the city for a girlfriend, my son has a built-in playmate and younger
brother in everything but the name…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Frida’s annoyance rose to meet her anger halfway. “So Alejandro
goes to first grade next year, and Gabriel is still with Aracely and me. Will
you notice? Will you make the changes to be the father of a schoolboy? Or will
you tell Alejandro, ‘<u>Nómas, bebé</u>, you can’t need me to help you with
your homework. You can’t like what your schoolmates like. You can’t tell me
what happened at school today. I want you to stay five forever’? Everything
changes. What did you do when Magda got that scholarship to Temple University?
Did you tell her, ‘No, you become an atheist, you go to no Temple, I command
you?’ No, you gave the party of her life, and you hired two people, one for you
and one for her dad. Things happen; you change. You grow. That’s called life.
Next September, you will greet your new child close to the same day that you
send Alejandro to his first day of school.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“You are crazy.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I am a mother, and you are again going to be a father. Happy
Father’s Day, Dad, I’ll be big as a taxi and you’ll love it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">César reached over to the headboard and extracted a copy of Soil
Dynamics.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Frida got up, tossed on an Abercrombie t-shirt, underwear with
full coverage, and pink running shorts. She padded out of the room, found her
briefcase at the front door, and took out her journal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“My darkest thoughts walk with me like a foul body halfway
inside my own; I am invaded by these doubts as to what I am doing here, or
anywhere. What am I to César, to my <u>Clientes</u>, to my friends? Sandrina is
managing <u>Personas Desordenatas</u> with no help; she has stopped asking me
to act in anything except as the signatory to the check for program
advertisements. Magda is gone, Tonto doesn’t call. Hector has moved on, no
problem, what was I to him except a sex object? Maybe that’s it. Maybe Frida
Garcia, <u>Presidente</u> of Delia SA, with my half-a-million peso income and
company car, is nothing more to anyone but a very bright sex object. If the
world is full of <u>mujereros</u> and <u>mamasotas</u>, what differentiates us
from apes? Is our sex different from their sex? Is that all it is, sex?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“If all we are is animals, what does it mean for this gross
second body to inhabit me? Is this what man calls conscience? Or consciousness?
Is what humanity calls a conscience just this ogre in my skin? Is what I am
bearing just a homunculus, like the Homunculus of Desire, but a nascent plague
and not a blessing? What constitutes a plague? Is it different than a disease?
In English the word means more like the antonym of ease. That’s it. The state
of being conscious is measurable only by the level of uneasiness we experience.
If so, I am highly, highly conscious, <u>chinga la madre</u>!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Rituals. Mornings at César’s. Boys to Aracely. Frida to work.
César to work. Evening at Frida’s. Playing with the boys while Aracely makes
dinner. All to bed. Mechanical sex. Breakfast. Aracely takes the boys. César to
work. Frida to work. One and a half days left until Cozumel. Time out! Call
Flora.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“<u>Bueno</u>.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Flora? Frida, <u>que haces</u>?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“<u>Nada, chica</u>, I just miss Magda, that’s all. Other than
that, I’m in my <u>oficina</u>.” The clinking of coffee cups and the ring of
the cash register attested that all was well at the Panaderia Monsieur
Remontel. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I have to talk to you. Are you there for a while?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“<u>Si, si</u> – I am on deadline today. We have a Christmas
special. All the <u>El Sol</u> travel writers are trying to outsell each other
on our cities. You can come with me and we can make a drive.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<u><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Okey</span></u><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> – fifteen minutes. Don’t go
anywhere.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">While Frida and Flora made notes about their favorite memories
of each neighborhood they had ever visited, and made up some experiences for
neighborhoods that they would never visit, Frida told Flora how that night the
day before yesterday had gone. It was immediately obvious to Flora, at least
through her detached eyes, what was wrong. “Why buy the cow…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“When you already have the milk?” Frida finished the proverb.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Flora opined, “<u>Chica</u>, no problem here. You have a good
company. A solid customer base. A great reputation. You also have done all this
with a baby between your breasts. So what’s wrong? If it’s the money, the
solution is clear. Set up a joint account that takes care of the little one’s
every bottle.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Even the big glass ones she will buy in college!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Especially those. Other than that, no change, no problem!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Frida took a great deal of comfort from this bit of advice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The morning of the Cozumel vacation, Frida got up at 5:30 AM to
buy an assortment of baked goods from Panaderia Monsieur Remontel, but she had
to pull over at <u>Calle</u> 56 and 4<sup>a</sup> <u>Avenida</u> because she
knew there was a public wastebasket that could receive…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“¡<u>Dios mio, Sara</u>!
If I throw up any harder, I’ll cough you up too!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Frida opened her glove compartment and found a packet of baby
wipes exactly where she expected. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When she arrived at Remontel, she had mostly regained her
composure, but not her color.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sr. Andrez emerged from the kitchen.“¡<u>Rayos, Señora</u>! You
look like serious as a donkey on a rowboat. ¿<u>Estas en salud</u>?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Nothing, nothing. I see your travel corner isn’t full yet.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“No, <u>Señora</u>, Flora doesn’t come before 9:30 unless she
has been out all night. But thank you for coming in. Here’s a fresh cup of
coffee <u>gratis</u>. Would you like an <u>ojo de elefante</u>? I have to dust
it with sugar, but the whole batch just came out of the oven.” Sr. Andrez
poured the coffee into what appeared to be a pottery beer mug with a fleur-de-lis
stamped into the clay before firing. He poured the cream into a twelve-ounce
pitcher and set out the sugar.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Frida poured cream into her coffee; she passed on the sugar. The
glistening golden glaze on the <u>ojos de elefantes</u> wafted straight from the
kitchen into Frida’s nose, which certainly had been shocked by what it had
inhaled at Calle 56.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“I’ll take a dozen. Have you baked anything healthy yet? We’re
making an <u>excursión</u>.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Si, <u>señora</u>, a batch of carrot bran muffins just came
out, and I have raspberry tarts also. You should eat the muffins within two
days, but the tarts can make you salivate after a week.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Good, we can play Frisbee with them, and then eat them
afterward. Give me a dozen of both, but in a plastic bag with a twist tie,
please.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Frida paid for the pastries, and downed the coffee. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">* * *<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Frida acted her way through the next week, enjoying her time
with the children, and faking it through her time with César. Once the children
were asleep in their own beds and corresponding houses, Frida met César in the
courtyard of his building. With the sound of the peeing cherub in the
background, César spoke first.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Frida, I do not want to make this change in my life. I want you
to have an abortion.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“You want me to abort my baby – our baby?” Frida spoke
deliberately, knowing that this was one of two possible reasons for this
meeting, and César did not seem to have a wedding band disguised somewhere. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Yes, Frida, I would like you to have an abortion.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“And?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“And we will go on as we have, and nothing will change. We will
be happy as we have been. I don’t want to change anything.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“You don’t think I forgot what I told you, do you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“About what?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“About change. Change just is. Ser, no estar. Change. Is. Life.
Is. Change.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Frida, I have made my decision.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“¡<u>Pendejo</u>! ¡<u>Hijo
de puta</u>!” Frida slapped her lover of four years across the face. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">César turned, without a word, and returned to his condo. The
door closed with just a little bit more authority than usual.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
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The Aquabloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00012517864249324205noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3625721508293116891.post-19408235589285142822012-10-01T17:22:00.004-07:002012-10-01T17:22:51.989-07:00Together, but More So (2006)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />Alejandro and Gabriel jumped on the bed, after César had left for a trip to New York with Arqueo before dawn. Frida was asleep. One of her kidneys twinged in recognition of the activity around her. Her mind became vaguely aware of a sound that seemed to come from her throat.<br />
<br />“<i>Bambini, bambini, callate</i>!” The Italian influence came from going with Arqueo to the opera. Dutch. No funny stuff, even though Arqueo deserved a hot babe on his arms, and not his best friend’s girlfriend. The boys jumped harder. Frida caught Alejandro mid-air, <i>“Okey, okey bebe, voy a alimentarle.” </i>She made a grab for Gabriel, but he wriggled like a gummi worm while escaping over her waist without breaking his rhythm. She whipped Alejandro forward to propel herself and him upright, sitting at the side of the bed. Before her foot hit the floor, Gabriel jumped on her back. <br /><br />
Frida was always wearing something, regardless of what had transpired the night before. If sex was even a possibility, she might be in a sheer robe, with or without underwear. The sheer clothing stayed at her place, where César and she had been the previous afternoon, while Aracély took care of the boys. This morning, she was in silver running shorts and a t-shirt. So there was no delay in her body getting into motion for the day, even if her head were on another planet. But something deep inside felt like it was on that other hot, sticky, fecund place full of vines and possibilities. Like being eaten by an anaconda. Or maybe feeding breast milk to leopard cubs whose mother’s milk had run dry. Or sprouting angel’s wings, only to find that in the tropical rainforest between her ears angel’s wings were too delicate to fly.<br /><br />
Alejandro, five year old, was already planning their day. “First, let’s go back to Africam. But we have to go early, or all the cats will be asleep. Then we can go to the lake and have a picnic, and we can all split a <i>sandia</i> and have a seed-spitting contest.”<br /><br />
“Alejandro,” began Frida. <br /><br />
“Oh, right, Gabriel can have a head start, and when we finish the <i>sandia </i>we’ll be all sticky so we have to go wash off in Lago Camacho, and then we can go to the race track and watch your friends race their cars. Maybe one will explode. BOOM!” shrieked Alejandro, excited but certain of his plans. <br /><br />
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Frida interjected.<br /><br />
“I want to go PLAYGROUND!” Gabriel insisted.<br /><br />
“I was saying, ‘Aren’t you forgetting breakfast? And getting dressed?”<br /><br />
“OK, Mama Frida, you make <i>pan y canela</i>, and I help Gabriel dress himself.”<br /><br />
Frida remembered exactly when she became “Mama Frida.” It was on the trip home from Africam – the first time. Flora and Magda conspired to put Frida and the toddlers in the back seat of the Suburban from El Sol, when Magda insisted that Frida sit with the boys. Magda would drop Aracely back at Frida’s, and Flora would take Frida and the boys to César’s place. The Suburban’s middle seat, even with the back seat filled with the production gear, held two car seats and a slim mother comfortably. The kids wriggled the whole way to attain the treasured prize – the trim but cozy lap in the middle seat. By the time they got to Lago Camacho, between the whining and the wriggling, Frida couldn’t take it anymore.<br /><br />
“Flora, pull over.”<br /><br />
“¿Mande?”<br /><br />
“Flora, pull over the car now. I need to give Gabriel a bottle. I have to feed Alejandro something.”<br /><br />
“<i>Okey, </i>mama,” Flora replied.<br /><br />
Flora whipped the Suburban onto the berm. She popped out and deftly mixed two bottles of formula and once.<br /><br />
“Lose the car seats, mamachica, You’ll be happier, and so will they.”<br /><br />
“Okey, Mamita Florecita,” Frida wisecracked.<br /><br />
Frida snapped open Gabriel’s restraint, and then Alejandro’s. The boys flowed out of their seats, and unrestrained, they immediately quieted down. <br /><br />
“<i>Ayudame</i>, Alejandro, let’s put the seat in back.”<br /><br />
“Me too?” asked Gabriel hopefully. <br /><br />
“<i>Okey, </i>you too. First I’ll take care of Alejandro’s chair, and then yours<i>. Dos asientos, dos niños, una mama.” </i><br /><br />
Frida remembered that moment very clearly. For a long time, she resisted Alejandro’s calling her mama, but only managed to gain the middle ground of “Mama Frida.” For the record, both boys had fallen asleep within minutes, each with a head on Frida’s thigh.<br /><br />
This morning, three days before Frida and César planned to take the boys to Cozumel for Christmas, the boys were used to each other and found nothing odd about this creative family unit. Alejandro had just given Frida an order, or so it seemed. At only five years of age, he had no problems pushing, but to his credit, no problems being redirected. Frida complimented Alejandro on his skill in being a big brother, but asked Gabriel to dress himself.<br /><br />
“But you can watch, Alejandro, and if Gabriel needs help, you can give it. Make sure he has clean underwear and that his shoes go on the right feet, okey?”<br /><br />
“<i>Okey, </i>Mama Frida, you make the best <i>pan y canela. Muchisimo mejor que Papi!”</i><br /><br />
“Really? What would your <i>papi </i>say if he heard that?”<br />
<br />“He’d say yes. He told me so himself.”<br />
<br />Wow.<br />
<br />Frida headed down to the kitchen. She felt it again. What was that, actually? I’m young, I’m healthy, It doesn’t feel like a muscle sensation. Frida stretched all the way into a half-moon shape, first to the left, then to the right. No change. Back bends, toe touches. Nothing. Wait a minute, it can’t be that. We use protection every time. Beside, there are two boys who love my <i>pan y canela.</i> And a day to plan.<br />
<br />Frida took the boys to the playground, where they met Aracely for the handoff. The sensation that something was different, she couldn’t say what, dogged Frida throughout her day. Even when she changed her clothes from business dress to cutoffs, a t-shirt, and a swimsuit underneath, she felt a twinge. But this time, it was somewhere else; she couldn’t localize it. She felt oddly accompanied on her way down to Lago Camacho. What is it about me that makes Alejandro call me “Mama Frida?” I wonder if they call Aracely “Mama Aracely?”<br /><br />
They didn’t. <br /><br />
“Mami!”<br /><br />
“Mama Frida!”<br />
<br />“CANWEcanweCanWEcanWEcANWe…”<br />
<br />“<i>Okey, okey</i>, kids. Let’s go get tacos for dinner first, then I have something special for you.”<br />
<br />“WhatwhaTWhatTELLme NOW!”<br />
<br />The evening ended in the <i>Zona Historica de los Fuertes</i>, under the dimming sun, and lots of books about fireworks. The boys got in a good hour and a half nap, and then BOOM! The warning salvo went off. As the children were more and more enchanted with the noise and colors, Frida was becoming more and more sure that in about nine months it would be César, Frida, Alejandro, Gabriel, and Sara.<br />
<br />* * *<br />
<br />César and Frida still had separate homes. They might as well have been married, except that they had never asked for this. Frida did not know – what would she say? How would she say it? What did she know? How could she know it? These questions sat behind her amygdala most of the time, behind her eyeballs other times, and often right in her larynx, unvoiced. After three weeks and a period five days late, she knew. It had to be. <br />
<br />César prepared dinner on a Tuesday while the children were creating trouble for Aracely. Frida stopped by home and kissed the children, then stopped by the florist for a dozen yellow long-stemmed roses. She drove up to César’s apartment complex and turned the lock on the aging spired picket fence door, which opened onto the courtyard. The courtyard was terraced in begonias, tea roses, and bouganvilla in some places, and sculpted with giant astilbe, butterfly bushes, clematis, and jacaranda in others. The pattern was Fibonacci’s sequence – one bouganvilla and terrace, one jacaranda and sculpture. Two bouganvilla and terraces, three jacaranda and sculptures. Five bouganvilla. Eight jacaranda. And of course a stone cherub holding a birdbath in the center. Frida loved this place – it was sheer joy to play barefoot with the boys in the yard, and even better if César were holding her hand or caressing her shoulder. <br />
<br />Frida rang the bell on César’s unit. He greeted her in his usual way. That’s what she loved most about him. Every time he greeted her, he acted as if they were still flirting. Never take a client for granted, Frida told her own clients. Your best clients are your best prospects. He smiled. He flipped her hair over her left ear. He eased her bare shoulders out of her blazer, and slid his hands down her smooth skin while removing the jacket completely with one hand, and taking the bouquet of roses with the other. He slid a teasing finger across her <i>nalgas</i> while moving to hang up the jacket, and finding them bare to the touch under her opaque business skirt, asked, “Thong? Or commando?” He spun her around into an embrace.<br /><br />
On the cedarwood table César had draped a lace tablecloth from his grandmother, with a violet runner in the center. A cut crystal bowl with fruity red rose petals floating on water was flanked by lit yellow tapers. César stepped past Frida into the kitchen, from which the sound of a faucet was soon heard. César produced a matching cut crystal vase, half filled with water, in which Frida’s roses were displayed. César set the vase in the bowl filled with the contrasting rose petals. “The reflective surfaces blend the colors well, yes?” he said, admiringly. Frida wanted to ravish him there, before dinner. But this was César’s return from a long business trip, and he might have everything timed just so. Frida just lifted César’s chin, pulled his shirt collar, and satisfied herself with an aperitif of his lips and tongue. César placed his right hand around her ribs, but the gentle, supple feel of her breast under her shoulderless satin top drew his thumb to it as surely as a moth is drawn to light. Her nipple was pressing urgently through the fabric. He remembered himself, and poured two glasses of sparkling grape juice.</div>
The Aquabloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00012517864249324205noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3625721508293116891.post-40857866490189273222012-09-30T09:16:00.001-07:002012-09-30T09:16:02.626-07:00The Submission, by Amy Waldman<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Where were you when JFK was shot? Martin Luther King? Bobby
Kennedy? Where were you when Neil Armstrong took “one small step for man?” When
Nixon resigned? When the Soviet Union imploded For two generations, these
essential “Where were you?” questions were eclipsed by, “Where were you at 9 AM
on September 11, 2001?” For Amy Waldman, author of <i>The Submission</i> (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2011) , she was building
up the journalistic skills of a major reporter and the writing chops of the
author that she becomes within these pages. As a bureau chief of the South Asia
office for the New York Times, she found herself embedded in the conflicting
cultures that led the story of the
memorial design competition that led up to the tenth year anniversary. Waldman
is enough of a New Yorker that she could capture the view through the eyes of
demagogues, widows, and Muslims. The demagogues live behind pen and microphone.
The widows have the conscience suit covered deep, and the Muslims? Both the
winning designer and an unlikely spokeswoman arise from the American Muslim
community, with the twist that this Muslim is also a 9/11 widow.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Claire Burwell holds the lone seat on the memorial selection
jury reserved for families of the victims. An Ivy-educated woman of independent
means, her husband was very wealthy from his work at Cantor Fitzgerald. The
jury added her because she was presumed to serve as a barrier between the
artistic taste of the jury and the raw emotion of the other survivors. At
the other end of the spectrum is Sean
Gallagher, a handyman living in the basement of his mother’s house in Brooklyn.
Sean’s brother Patrick was a firefighter pulverized under the collapsing South
Tower. Sean had build a small career being Patrick’s voice from beyond the
grave. Mohammed (Mo) Khan, a prominent architect and a secular Muslim, won the
anonymous competition with a garden that emerged geometrically from the
irrigation canals up to the metal trees made from 9/11 rubble. When a grasping,
aggressive journalist from a notorious tabloid discloses the religion of the
competition winner, the city falls under another attack, this time from within.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Would the memorial garden ever be built at all? Gallagher plays his status as the brother of
a fallen hero into a speaking career with minor celebrity status, all in the
name of preventing a Musilm architect from building an “Islamic garden: as a
“martyr’s paradise.” Claire struggles to balance her own integrity with the
raging voices of the other families. Mo fights everyone’s attempts to vilify
the design by attacking the designer, or more specifically, the religious
heritage of the designer. At a crucial moment, Asma, an undocumented
Bangladeshi Muslim widow of the attacks, risks all she has to speak her truth
at an angry gathering of the families of victims.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ten years and two wars later, Waldman’s novel, <i>The</i> <i>Submission</i>,
tells the story of a nation struggling to affirm the principles that extremists
love to hate. <i>The Submission </i>speaks
to the morals of a people whose pluralism, tolerance, and understanding were
pushed to the brink of collapse by attackers whose main objective was to make
the country whose ideology they hate destroy itself from within.</div>
</div>
The Aquabloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00012517864249324205noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3625721508293116891.post-3422951217569195022012-09-19T18:03:00.001-07:002012-09-19T18:03:38.320-07:00Majoring in Magda (2005)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Magda had won a scholarship offered by Frida’s client Bimbo SA,
the Mexican baked goods concern that Frida had helped increase its route sales
by 40% in three months. She earned a shot at El Norte by applying to, and being
accepted by, <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placetype w:st="on">Temple</st1:placetype>
<st1:placetype w:st="on">University</st1:placetype></st1:place>’s Fox School
of Business, conditional on improving her English skills during the summer.
Samantha, for her part, had found Magda’s posting for a housemate on a board at
the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Liacouras</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Center</st1:placetype></st1:place> at a David Byrne concert. Magda never
asked Samantha if Dimitri were a casanova. In fact, given her poor English
skills, it was amazing that she could interview potential housemates in
English. Dimitri had to start looking past his sister and brother-in-law’s
house in <st1:place w:st="on">Princeton</st1:place>. Dimitri’s command of three
languages, Russian, Hebrew, and English, and his advanced standing in the
Master’s program in Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages didn’t hurt
either. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The apartment was down in the Temple University ghetto. Samantha
cautioned Dimitri about living on-campus, but he wasn’t about to keep his 280
ZX with the salt-eaten exhaust system when he could get $2000 for it as a
classic. So Dimitri would have to walk or take the bus everywhere he went, and
his tuition grant had no money to subsidize housing. So here he was, on a third
floor of a <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">N. 16<sup>th</sup> St.</st1:address></st1:street>
row house, overlooking a rat-infested, trash-strewn vacant lot where two houses
had been pulled down. A stump, five feet in diameter, remained from a junk tree
that had burst through the foundation and crashed through the basement and
first floor. <u>I wonder what the neighbors thought when they looked through
the window and saw the forest on the <b>inside</b>
of the house. Did they just pass by, thinking it was an indoor pot farm?<o:p></o:p></u></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The house itself had art deco molding and wood trim – if you
could call it “art” when the red paint had faded to a washed-out fuchsia, and
when you touched the wood, it crumbled as if it were made of plaster. Like most
of the other houses on the block, its concrete steps were cracked or crumbling.
Unlike most of the other houses, the wobbly wrought-iron railing remained in
place, and from the change in color of the concrete where the railing met the
steps, had recently been reseated. The
steps to the second floor were hardwood – freshly sanded and polished. Dimitri
was impressed. On the way to the third floor, a threadbare indoor-outdoor rug
whose color palette ranged from a dull weave of mud-brown and grey at the walls
to the indescribable nothingness of packed clay where thousands of feet had
tread. </span><span lang="ES-MX" style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: ES-MX;">Samantha groaned. <u>Su forma es demasiado saludante para ser tan
cansada</u><i>, </i>thought Magda. </span><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Samantha
looked too healthy to be out of breath. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">In the apartment, things looked up. The ceiling was a fresh
white with new fixtures. The wood floor was buffed, and Magda’s space rugs and
wall hangings showed a cross of good taste and ethnic pride, representing the
best of the indigenous textile trade around <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Puebla</st1:place></st1:state>. The appliances were old but
functional, and unlike the original design of row houses built to contain the
new industrial workforce of the turn of the century, cabinets and closets
popped out of strategic places in each room. This cut into the evident living
space, but as Samantha kept reminding Dimitri when he was staying with her
after getting caught with a naked girl between his legs in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Atlantic City</st1:place></st1:city>, nobody wants to look at your
personal stuff. Magda really tried, but
she sounded like this:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoNormalTable" style="border-collapse: collapse; border: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-insideh: .5pt solid windowtext; mso-border-insidev: .5pt solid windowtext; mso-padding-alt: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-yfti-tbllook: 480;">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td style="border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">WHAT
DIMITRI HEARD<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-left: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">WHAT
MAGDA HEARD/MEANT<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Dimitri:
So how long have you lived here?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">What
length have you lived here?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Magda:
Long in time?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Long
in time?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Dimitri:
(Long in what else?) Yes, when did you come to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Philadelphia</st1:place></st1:city>?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">If
when you come to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Philadelphia</st1:place></st1:city>?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Magda:
Okey, okey, I come in April and I move from one week.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Uh,
I came to find this apartment in April. I moved my stuff in last week.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Magda:
I study the business. What you will study?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I
am in the Fox School of Management, studying business. What’s your major?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Dimitri:
TESOL. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Tea
soul<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Magda:
Ehhhh, Tea soul?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Ehhhh.
Tea soul? (What is with this college, and what is this, herbology?)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Dimitri:
Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages. I can use you as a guinea
pig.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Teaching
English to Speakers of Other Languages. I can to use you as the African pig. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Magda:
Perdon? You say, “pig from the west of <st1:place w:st="on">Africa</st1:place>?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">WTF???<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Dimitri:
No, no, it’s an expression. Guinea pigs are little animals, like rabbits.
Scientists use this animal to test drugs and cosmetics on. I can test my
skills on you to see if I can make your English better.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">No,
no, it an expressing. Guinea pigs are little animals. I like rabbits.
Scientists use this animal to test drogas (farmaceuticos?) and … I can test
you my skills and see your English better.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Magda:
Good, good. I can help you if you have a math class. You can help me English
better. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Good,
good. I can help you with math, and you can help me in English.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">(pause)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">(¿<u>Que
debo preguntarlo</u>?)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Magda:
Is the Samantha your new? (Samantha crosses her legs , a little
uncomfortable, and smiles nervously)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Is
Samantha your girlfriend?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Dimitri:
Well, it’s a long story. But let’s say we’re very close. Are you married? Do
you have a boyfriend?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Well,
it long story. But let say were very close to it. Are you married? Do you
have a boy or friend?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Magda:
I am a … we call it “soltera.” No boy, no girl. My friend is in <st1:country -region="-region" w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Mexico</st1:place></st1:country>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I
am unmarried and have no children. My friend is in <st1:country -region="-region" w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Mexico</st1:place></st1:country>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Dimitri:
Good. When do you get to see him next?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Good.
When do you get him to see him next?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Magda:
I get him since made in high school.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I
became an item with her in high school.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">(Magda
had a real issue with personal pronouns; in this case, that was a good
thing.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Magda
(to Samantha): What length of time you have him?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">How
long have you been with him?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Samantha:
I can’t really say I have him. It’s hard to have a guy like Dimbo. He can be
an asshole sometimes, but he’s contagious.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">I
can really say, I have him (no?). Is hard to have a … like Dimbo. He can be …
some times, but he is infection.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Magda:
Infection of <u>elephants</u>?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Infection
of <u>elefantes</u><i>?<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Samantha
and Dimitri look at each other and giggle. Both answer: Dimbo, not Dumbo!
It’s a nickname.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">(pause)
Dimbo, not Dumbo! It’s a nick name.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Magda
(laughs nervously): Oh, not <i>elefante</i>.
Light bomb. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Oh,
not <u>elefante</u><i>.</i> Light <u>bombera</u><i>.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Samantha
(reaches over and puts her hand on Magda’s hand and smiles at her, looking
into her eyes): You’ll do fine. You keep trying. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">You
do fine. You keep to trying. (Flinches at first, then returns warm look and
locks fingers with Samantha and smiles.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">Magda:
You watch careful, Dimbo, I take him from you! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; width: 239.4pt;" valign="top" width="399">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt;">You
watch out, Dimbo, I will take her from you!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">As Magda, Samantha, and Dimitri hacked out a conversation in
one-and-a-half languages, it became clear that Magda was looking for a man as a
housemate because of security reasons, but really wanted one with a girlfriend.
Hearing sex, in Magda’s mind, was better than being hit on for it. As for her
situation, Samantha figured out that Magda was, in fact, a lesbian, and that
her comment about taking Samantha from Dimitri was a jibe with a foot in fact.
Magda had not mentioned Flora by name, choosing the code phrase, “<u>mi socia</u>,”
or “<u>mi compañera</u>.” Samantha didn’t understand the female suffix at
first, and Dimitri missed it completely. But Samantha noticed the slight flush
in Magda’s light complexion when she tried to talk about Flora. Magda also
squeezed her slight legs together and looked up. It seemed that Magda touched
her own right thigh just below her denim miniskirt.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Magda’s mind wandered to the first time she suspected that she
wanted to be with a woman. In Catholic Mexico, it was a matter of common
knowledge that homosexuals were going to hell, and even heterosexual sex
outside of marriage was a mortal sin. In this repressive environment, the
liberalization of the previous decade seemed more rumor than fact. Even Flora, the
journalist who wore tie-dye and hemp sandals, found herself dogged by boys, and
later, young men, who wanted to be her first encounter. They even said so. Frida
knew Flora, when the latter was a chubbly teenager and Frida, a little girl. By
the tie-dye and hemp days, Flora’s baby fat had disappeared, but her curves had
not. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">When Frida introduced them at the conference, only she knew that
her best friend would never be interested in boys. Or in men. It was a lucky bit
of matchmaking to surmise that Magda would be interested in Flora. As Magda sat
in front of Dimitri and the smoking-hot Samantha, Magda’s mind wandered and her
whole body thought about her “<u>socia</u>.” Flora’s broad, soft facial
features. Flora’s rich latte skin. The shape of Flora’s thighs, her calves. The
infinitude of ways that she touched Magda with all her body. And those
incomparable hands. Magda didn’t notice that her right foot had slipped out of
her sandal, embraced her left, and all her toes were curling.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">All parties snapped out of their reverie, and concluded their
business. Dimitri paid Magda the $250 for the first month’s rent. He shook her
hand, put his left hand on her right shoulder, and placed a chaste kiss on her
right cheek. Samantha hugged the shorter woman around the shoulders, while
receiving Magda’s arms around her waist. The embrace lasted only a few seconds,
but engaged both women from head to toe. They kissed, just for an instant, and
smiled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">On the way out of the row house, Dimitri stumbled over
Samantha’s ankle and caught himself on the wrought-iron railing. Whispering a
silent “thank-you” to the landlord for making that repair before worrying about
the non-carpet on the steps, he turned to Samantha, who had grabbed his other
arm to keep him from falling. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“You like her, don’t you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“She seems really nice. You’ll have a great roommate.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“And which one will you sleep with?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">“Dimbo!” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Samantha swatted Dimitri over the
head with her Fendi purse.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" /></span></div>
The Aquabloggerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00012517864249324205noreply@blogger.com0