20 Questions Book Tag

    Once again, I must apologise for this Slight Delay—I’m trying to get back into the rhythm of posting every week consistently, but, well—anything worthwhile takes work! (Even if it’s scribbling away in the most unholy hours of the night after the demands of Real Life have released me from their hold.)

    Ahem. Anyhow. Today I’m stealing borrowing a tag from Lizzie over at Starlight and Saucepans—more precisely, the 20 Questions Book Tag. 

Judging from the questions posted, this will have a good deal to do with what’s your favourite book and what’s your favourite this and that—which is… lovely, I suppose, except for Bookish People like myself it’s almost impossible to answer. So I’m going to do my best here, but We Shall See…

1. How Many Books Is Too Many in a Series?

    Erm. See, I tend to be Very Particular about this sort of thing. Because it depends on the story, on the kind of writing, as well as how likable the characters are. To me trilogies are the perfect length, but if it’s a fantastic story like Lewis’ Narnia then upwards of five is alright. So really it depends!

2. How Do You Feel About Cliffhangers?

    Yes, please! (If you’ve read any of my stories you’ll know that I love torturing my poor readers… heh)

3. Hardback or Paperback?

    Hardback! (Paperback is fine and cheaper and all that, but hardcover books, especially classics, are just so beautiful.)

4. Favorite Book?

    Ah, here we go… This cannot be answered. There are so many amazing and fantabulous and wonderful books. Buuuut if you were to threaten me on pain of death, I’d probably say either The Lord of the Rings, Till We Have Faces, or Jane Eyre. (Yes, that’s three, but come on, this is hard!)

5. Least Favorite Book?

    Um. I don’t know? I don’t tend to read things I dislike, to be completely frank. But—oh, yes, there was this awful book I had to read in fifth grade (goodness, that was a long time ago) and I think it was called The Great Horn Spoon or something like that? I can’t remember exactly, but it was extremely cliche, about some ignorant lad in the gold rush who tries to make his fortune and then looses it because of his lackluster butler. (I am in no shape or form recommending this book. Please refrain from doing so. It is not worth your time.)

6. Love Triangles? Yes or No?

    Yeah. Sure. Whatever. Just as long as it’s not cliche. 

7. The Most Recent Book You Couldn’t Finish?

    I… don’t know. Like I said earlier, I don’t really tend to read books I know I’ll dislike, and it’s been so long since I DNF’d a book I legitimately can’t remember. 

8. A Book You’re Currently Reading?

    Walking on Water by Madeline L’Engle.

9. The Last Book You Recommended to Someone?

    The Mysterious Affair at Styles by Agatha Christie, to a friend looking for an excellent mystery story. It’s really a fun and intriguing read!

This is Agatha Christie, in case you were wondering…

10. Oldest Book You’ve Read by Publication Date?

    If by oldest this means earliest written, then aside from the Scriptures, probably The Odyssey and The Iliad followed by The Aeneid and Beowulf. (A random side-note, but if you’ve never heard Beowulf in its original tongue, it’s quite something.)

11. Newest Book You’ve Read by Publication Date?

    Ehm. I must be honest, now—I can’t remember. I don’t exactly pay attention to publication dates. (Probably should?) But even though technically this hasn’t been published, I read a friend’s completed manuscript (which was quite excellent, by the way!)

12. Favorite author?

    Please, do not torture me thus!! 

    …Fine. Lewis, Austen, and Tolkien. Since you made me.

14. A Book You Dislike that Everyone Else Seems to Love?

    The Elsie Dinsmore Series, indubitably. Granted, I read the original versions and not the Life of Faith revisions, but guys, these books had Issues. They absolutely did not accurately demonstrate the life of a young Christian girl. I haven’t read the revisions, but do yourself a favour and do your research before reading them.

15. Bookmarks or Dogears?

    Bookmarks. Because dogears are Morally Wrong.

16. A Book You Can Always Re-read?

    Hmm, a comfort book! I love that. Let’s see… well obviously The Lord of the Rings, but also (maybe even more, if I dare say so) The Hobbit. It’s just so comforting and warm-fuzzies-by-the-fireplace kind of atmosphere. And hey, it’s Tolkien. ;)

Bilbo’s such a dear lad!

17. Can You Read While Listening to Music?

    See, I’m a musician. Any type of music will be distracting to me, because I tend to do this thing where I’ll be peacefully reading, and then Tchaik 6 will come on and I’ll be like, oh, that was my excerpt for this audition, and wait, that’s a deceptive cadence and just in general I can’t concentrate on two things I love at once. Because both of them must get equal attention. (And also I have perfect pitch and it can be incredibly distracting.)

    (The only exception would be this very specific lovely jazz piano playlist that we play in the evenings occasionally.)

18. One or Multiple Points of View?

    It really depends, but I tend to prefer one (unless the multiple are well-written!)

19. Do You Read a Book in One Sitting or Over Multiple Days?

    Well, I technically prefer over multiple days, because it’s so much nicer to stew in it for a while, but I tend to get sucked in Rather Frequently. Not my fault, okay? Books are just so good…

20. A Book You’ve Read Because of the Cover?

    Last question! Okay, so truth be told, I haven’t really done this. I do love collecting classics with beautiful covers, but what tends to suck me in is the story, not the cover. 

Alright, that’s it! Thanks for the tag, Lizzie, and whoever else so desires, please feel free to participate!

Soli Deo Gloria, 

Astrya

Inklings | August Edition

    Well. 

    It’s certainly been a hot minute, hasn’t it? I was gone almost two months, and it’s such a strange feeling to be back, home, doing normal things. 

    For those of you who are completely clueless, I was away for six weeks (and some) at an intensive violin program on the other side of the country, where we performed multiple concerts every week in symphony orchestra, and on top of that I had a (fabulous and amazing and wonderful) quartet with whom I performed and recorded. Our schedule was so packed it was difficult to find time for individual practicing! And yet I loved it. We had the chance to work with world-class performers and conductors, and I’d say it was probably the best summer of my life. 

Isn’t this quote so beautiful?

    (If you are someone I knew there and you’ve somehow stumbled upon this, I just want to say… having such excellent musicians and wonderful people as my friends for six weeks was absolutely incredible and made my time there That Much Better. And made it that much harder to say goodbye. But almost no goodbye is forever—we’ll meet again, and I look forward to the day we do!)

    (Now excuse me while I go practice…)

    Kidding. At least for now. Because it’s August now, and there’s a new Inklings prompt out! This month it’s a scene by the ocean in book or film and you can find Heidi’s original post here.  

    My selection comes from medieval poet Edmund Spenser’s Amoretti LXXV, one of the earliest sonnets written in English. It dates from the mid-1580s and features this sonnet about the poet’s seemingly vain attempt to immortalise his beloved’s name by writing it on the sand at the beach—but when the tide comes in, the name is slowly washed away. 

One day I wrote her name upon the strand,

But came the waves and washed it away:

Again I wrote it with a second hand,

But came the tide, and made my pains his prey.

‘Vain man,’ said she, ‘that dost in vain assay,

A mortal thing so to immortalize;

For I myself shall like to this decay,

And ere my name be wiped out likewise.’

    It’s beautiful, and tragic, and subtly mourning the curse all humanity must experience—that is death. How can love be immortal when no human being is? And yet—and yet. Because we are created in the image of God we are also capable of loving unconditionally—as He does. And that is a love that transcends even death. 

    So is Spenser right, that nothing mortal can, or ought to, be immortalised? Is the narrator vain for attempting to do so? 

    If he was attempting to immortalise something sinful, I would agree. But because he bears a love that transcends even death—I don’t think he is vain. He’s sentimental, a fool even, but it is not an evil to give someone you love a token of that affection, however finite. 

    What thinkest thou, dear reader? (See, Elizabethan English affects me. I can’t read more than two paragraphs without adopting it for mine own self.) Is it wrong to immortalise love in a mortal manner? 

Soli Deo Gloria!

——

Namarië,

Astrya

Inklings | May Edition

    When I first saw Heidi’s May prompt for the lovely Inklings series, my inner dialogue went something like this:

    Pearls? What a delightful idea!

    What on earth will I do?

    Because May’s prompt is, as you may know (and if you don’t you’re missing out) a scene from a book or film with a pearl necklace. And except for the odd description here or there, I know of very few pearl-necklace-scenes.

    But I do know of something with a pearl. 

    A while back I obtained a book of three poems from the middle ages, including Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, translated by J.R.R. Tolkien. One of the others, aptly named Pearl, is a poem exploring a sense of deep personal loss through the metaphor of the loss of a pearl. It’s really quite profound. “Pearl is apparently an elegy on the death of a child,” Tolkien wrote. “[It is] a poem pervaded with a sense of great personal loss; but, like Gawain it is also a sophisticated and moving debate on much less tangible matters.”

     The poem begins like this:

Pearl of delight that a prince doth please
To grace in gold enclosed so clear, 
I vow that from over orient seas
Never proved I any in price her peer.
So round, so radiant ranged by these,
So fine, so smooth did her sides appear
That ever in judging gems that please
Her only alone I deemed as dear.
Alas! I lost her in garden near:
Through grass to the ground from me it shot;
I pine now oppressed by love-wound drear
For that pearl, mine own, without a spot.

    The language and metre are absolutely beautiful, and so is the subject matter. Knowing that the pearl is a metaphor for some dear person lost and never in this life recoverable makes it all the more poignant. The poem is quite long, but I’ll just provide the ending as well—which is just as, if not more, brilliant. 

To please that Prince, or be pardon shown,
May Christian good with ease design;
For day and night I have Him known
A God, a Lord, a Friend divine.
This chance I met on mound where prone
In grief for my pearl I would repine;
With Christ's sweet blessing and mine own
I then to God it did resign.
May He that in form of bread and wine
By priest upheld each day one sees,
Us inmates of His house divine
Make precious pearls Himself to please.

    As I understand it, the Prince is Christ, the Prince of Peace. Here at the end, the narrator is surrendering that terrible loss to Him, saying Thy will be done, despite how much it hurts. 

    How beautiful a message is that? And how terrifying, for the unknown is a terrifying thing. But whatever happens, we can have the confidence that the Lord is with us, no matter what, and loves us so extremely much.

    Soli Deo Gloria!

——

Namarië,

Astrya

A Joyful Noise

     Whether we realise it or not, music is an integral part of our lives. Some have favourite songs they listen to on repeat, others of us play musical instruments. Even if you are a dismal and glum sort of person who hates every kind of music, you at least know people who love it. It’s everywhere. But why?

    Now, it must be said that I am a classical violinist, and as such am partial to classical music. Mendelssohn, Tchaikovsky, Brahms, that’s the kind of thing I love. But even so, I respect the types of music other people love. (Except for rap. That just confuses me.) Because all music tells a story. And that love of something so beautiful, that’s glorifying to God.

    That’s why music is such a powerful form of worship. Yet it doesn’t have to be Sunday morning at church singing hymns to glorify Him. It can be anytime, anyplace, whenever we’re doing something we love and dedicate it to God. 

    The Bible talks often of singing our praises, of making a joyful noise with music, even of a heavenly choir, and I believe that is one of the most touching, beautiful forms of worship we can give. 

    So it doesn’t matter what you sound like, or who you are. Make a joyful noise unto the Lord!

——

Namarië,

Astrya

Bookishness And Other Issues

    It is a truth universally acknowledged that writing is hard.

    If Jane Austen hadn’t written that quote about romance, she would certainly have written it about the difficulties of writing itself. Of course, nothing worthwhile is easy, but it’s really quite frustrating how often I find myself struggling to be satisfied with something I’ve written, or even to get past Chapter Three (trust me, it’s a real problem.) So I decided it would be a decent idea to discuss How To Get Unstuck. (Not that I’m an expert in any way whatsoever.)

    Sidenote: I’m currently in the middle of concocting a series on Discovering the Truth in Popular Media (take a look at my Reviews page for more spoilers!) but because of my Rather Busy Schedule the first post has not yet been completed. So in between reading Summa Theologica and practicing violin studiously I read Lizzie’s lovely post on first drafts, and decided the idea of sharing short snippets of writing is an excellent one. (Thanks, Lizzie!) 

    Now, onto the Unsticking Methods. 

    I find that the easiest way to get inspired is to read something else. It doesn’t matter what it is, just read something else to get out of your world and into someone else’s. It’s okay to be inspired by someone else’s work. Don’t plagiarise, of course, but the greatest writers (and composers!) learned from copying what those before them did. Shakespeare ripped off Romeo and Juliet from the lesser-known Pyramus and Thisbe in Ovid’s Metamorphoses (which also features in A Midsummer Night’s Dream). Tolkien was inspired heavily by Welsh and Celtic mythology, including Beowulf and the Elder Edda. That’s the beauty of the Cauldron of Story, as Tolkien named it. All fairy-stories and tales have their origins someplace, and often they share many elements. 

    For example. (Examples are lovely things, aren’t they? Just like metaphors, only more reliable.) Remember that first chapter I shared a while back, ambiguously titled Seller of Dreams (ambiguously because the prologue has nothing whatsoever to do with dreams or selling.) Well, I was a bit stuck on What To Do Next, until I watched the Hunger Games for the first time (another post to come on that soon.) Obviously I can’t copy that—it wouldn’t be mine, and anyway, everyone would know. But the strong character development inspired me. I realised I could do whatever I wanted—and so I did. (My characters will not be pleased once they see what’s in store for them.)

    Another useful thing is sharing your ideas/current drafts with other people. That’s also quite helpful, because sometimes we get wrapped up in our own heads and see the tree instead of the forest, so to speak. And this is where I jump off my little podium, because I’m taking Lizzie’s idea of sharing mini-snippets from my stories. Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

    Everyone knows the black market exists, but no one cares enough to report it. After all it’s where most of us get our basic necessities, like food or clothes. 

Rule 225 in the Book of Common Welfare: the people shall receive only what they need, in exchange for goods provided to the Council. All distribution shall be just and fair.

Yeah, right. They make us memorise a stupid list of rules and then proceed to disregard them anyway. Perfect way to lose control of an already fragile system.

I allow myself a small smile before opening the hatch and slipping down the dark candle-lit stairs. If They so much as catch me thinking those kinds of thoughts, my whole family will be executed. And I’ll be left to watch them die.

Seller of Dreams, Chapter 1

    She emerges with a spongy foodish thing on a platter. Candles are set around the rim, and I vaguely wonder how they’re not falling off. I stare blankly at it, fighting a rather strong urge to poke it. 

Mairin notes my disillusionment and laughs. “It’s a cake, Eithryn. A pastry for special occasions.”

“And how many Aurean did it take to get it?” I ask dubiously. She laughs again. 

“Better not to ask those kinds of questions.”

I nod, still doubtful, but take the glorified sponge (don’t you dare look at me like that, I’m just being honest) in recitant hands. 

Seller of Dreams, Chapter 1

    Rule 1 in the Book of Common Welfare (as written and approved by the Council for the unquestioning obedience of all persons under their rule): Never, under any circumstance, is any citizen of Arinae to question the will of the Council. 

Seller of Dreams, Chapter 2

   If I could do everything over again, I would never have made the choices that led me here. But then again, I’m not sure I was ever offered that particular chance. 

    All very well to think about it, but thoughts are not enough. Not when you’re hanging off a jagged cliff, trying not to fall to your death and attempting to avoid being shot.

    Lovely way to spend the morning, isn’t it?

The Red Sun Rises, Chapter 1

    The Complete History of England And Her Monarchs (volume twelve, third edition) misses a collision with my brother’s eye by mere millimetres. He sidesteps the flying volume neatly as it slams on the ground behind him, then turns (unimpressed) to meet my steady gaze. I have been told (on good authority) that I have a somewhat daunting glare, but Edmund just raises an eyebrow at my fury. “Are you done yet?”

Ere Darkness Fall, Chapter 1

    Well, there it is. I hope you enjoyed all of this… let me know!

    What are your thoughts on writers’ block? Do you have any troublesome main characters that just won’t cooperate? 

——

Namarië, 

Astrya

Inklings | April Edition

     Greetings! I recently stumbled across Heidi’s wonderful Inklings series at Along the Brandywine, and thought it would be wonderful to try it out. (Also, it doesn’t hurt that the name of my blog is Inkling Corner, now does it?) 

    Anyhow, the rules are As Follows: At any time during the month, on your own blog post a scene from a book or film that matches the prompt, including a link back here in your post. Then, leave a link to your entry in the comments section on the host website. That's it!

April's prompt is:

A scene with a cake in book or film

Are these traditional cakes? No. Am I unashamedly using them instead of the perfectly wondrous creation that is Bilbo’s birthday cake in The Lord of the Rings? Yes.

    Now, this a bit of a tricky one. A lot of the best ones I know of (like Anne’s famous cake recipe in Anne of Green Gables) have already been taken, so I did a Bit Of Thinking. And of course (really by this point you should have expected it) my mind went rather quickly to Bilbo’s Unexpected Feast in The Hobbit. Poor Bilbo! He couldn’t possibly have imagined, while eating that delicious cake of his, what was about to happen to him. 

‘Gandalf in the meantime was still standing outside the door, and laughing long but quietly. After a while he stepped up, and with the spike on his staff scratched a queer sign on the hobbit’s beautiful green front-door. Then he strode away, just about the time when Bilbo was finishing his second cake and beginning to think that he had escaped adventures very well.

The next day he had almost forgotten about Gandalf. He did not remember things very well, unless he put them down on his Engagement Tablet: like this: Gandalf Tea Wednesday. Yesterday he had been too flustered to do anything of the kind.

Just before tea-time there came a tremendous ring on the front-door bell, and then he remembered! He rushed and put on the kettle, and put out another cup and saucer, and an extra cake or two, and ran to the door.

“I am so sorry to keep you waiting!” he was going to say, when he saw that it was not Gandalf at all. It was a dwarf with a blue beard tucked into a golden belt, and very bright eyes under his dark-green hood. As soon as the door was opened, he pushed inside, just as if he had been expected.

He hung his hooded cloak on the nearest peg, and “Dwalin at your service!” he said with a low bow.

“Bilbo Baggins at yours!” said the hobbit, too surprised to ask any questions for the moment. When the silence that followed had become uncomfortable, he added: “I am just about to take tea; pray come and have some with me.” A little stiff perhaps, but he meant it kindly. And what would you do, if an uninvited dwarf came and hung his things up in your hall without a word of explanation?

They had not been at table long, in fact they had hardly reached the third cake, when there came another even louder ring at the bell.

“Excuse me!” said the hobbit, and off he went to the door.’

J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit

    This is a lovely, whimsical, and entirely under-appreciated scene for many reasons. Firstly, there are not one, not two, but three cakes which make an appearance—and of course there is the rather hilarious mater (not to Bilbo, but we can ignore that for the moment) of the dwarves devouring the entirety of the (rather sturdy) hobbit’s larders (he has three).  

Credit to New Line Cinema

    An incredible feat, if you ask me. Which no one has, but who’s to say I can’t volunteer my opinion anyway? 

    Ahem. Anyhow, that’s my little contribution for the day. Take it or leave it, as you will, but I hope you enjoyed it! 

Bilbo would like to add that he is still Not Pleased with the outcome of that particular series of Unexpected Visits. He spent the next five years after returning replenishing his stocks, and they are still nowhere near their former glory. (He blames Bombur). 

____

Namarië, 

Astrya

From Daybreak to Evening

    Greetings! I hope all of you had a lovely Easter last weekend. As difficult as it is to transition from such a momentous and wonderful thing as Christ’s resurrection to, well—to anything, I decided that now is as good a time as any to share a poem I scrambled together in the last week. 

    For context, I was reading a short story of Tolkien’s, entitled Smith of Wootton Major. It tells the tale of a young blacksmith’s son who swallows a star from the land of Faery in a piece of Feast-cake. He was always a quiet lad, but he becomes merrier, brighter, and goes on long journeys here and there. Eventually he finds Faery-land, but must give up his star (which sits proudly on his forehead) to the king. It’s a beautiful yet bittersweet story, and I highly suggest reading it if you haven’t yet. 

    And now, without further ado, here’s the poem. 

  

From Daybreak to Evening

“You must have walked far.”

“Yes indeed; all the way from Daybreak to Evening.”

J.R.R. Tolkien, Smith of Wootton Major

When I was young I wandered far

from daybreak to the edge of night

my guiding light an Elven-star

through darkness it shone bright

in an age gone by I walked the path

of shining sky and starry seas

with wonder saw the fire’s wrath

in setting sun beneath the trees

I journeyed far through stream and hill

and danced with golden flowered light

that yet I think there lingers still

though the World since fell to night

but now my Elven guiding-star

has left I know not where

I have wandered here and far

from break of day to evening there

now starlit sky meets midnight sea

and here my journey’s end does lie

under shade of hill and tree

where the shining sea joins the sky.

Farewell, guiding star! My road has ended here

in Faery-land, that starry place

that ever I held dear. 

____

Namarië, 

Astrya