Literary devices

Sometimes, after an epic, life-changing adventure, a character forgets everything at the end. Patricia McKillip used this in Ombria in Shadow; the city shifted, and nobody could remember that things had ever been different. Robin McKinley explains in a blog post why this is a horrible thing to do to one's characters: adventures are for learning about oneself, and how can the changes in a character remain when the character has forgotten what she can do? I thought it just bothered me because I hate forgetting, but okay. Erasure of character development.

However, even though this device is Not Okay, writers still use it. I understand why, of course. Sometimes the author wants to release a character back into the wild after a long and disturbing period in situations that ought not to exist, and the only clear way for the character to return to normal life as if nothing had happened is for him to forget all about those adventures. Artemis Fowl was mindwiped by the fairies because, if I recall correctly, they didn't want him complicating things anymore, and I think he went along with it. Of course, since he'd become Chaotic Good only through the long process of Adventures, as soon as they erased his memories he went back to being evil, though perhaps with a nagging feeling that he shouldn't be doing this stuff.

My question is not, "But why would anyone ever want to do that?" My question is, "Does anyone actually like this device?" Is there a single reader out there who reads something like Artemis Fowl and says, "Oh, yeah, they erased all his fun memories of adventures and making friends and becoming a decent person! I love it when they do that! I hope he never remembers!" I would understand some enjoyment if the reader was looking forward to the process by which, in spite of everything, the character remembers after all. I would understand some pleasant anticipation of Artemis's sneaky recording of a video to himself, explaining everything he's forgotten. Sometimes shoujo mangaka like to use temporary amnesia as a device for demonstrating that circumstances don't matter, and the hero will fall in love with the heroine all over again even without the help of whatever weird situation the writer used to bring them together in the first place. These tend to irritate me a bit, but I could understand someone enjoying them. But--at the end of the story--no sequel in sight--for everyone to forget? Completely? It's so unfair to the characters! Readers remember their adventures, but characters aren't allowed to read the book themselves......

Identifying Quotes, part 1

In, um, probably Cryoburn, Miles remembers a quote he once memorized. It turns out to be from "Descent of the Goddess Ishtar into the Lower World," and runs thus:

"I will break the door, I will wrench the lock,
I will smash the door-posts, I will force the doors.
I will bring up the dead to eat the living.
And the dead will outnumber the living."

The full text can be found at www.sacred-texts.com.

Lois McMaster Bujold tends to seed her stories with tons of quotes, Biblical, Shakespearean, and miscellaneous. Noticing and identifying them is an ongoing scavenger hunt for me, and I thought I'd better write them down so I'd know which "Hey, I know that one!" moments are new and which aren't.

A plug for someone else.

There's a blog I've been following since, hm, last July. It's run by three authors of YA, and they're all crazy. I got there because Robin McKinley linked to them, but one was already familiar because Sarah Rees Brennan keeps recommending her. I've read a couple of her books, but I really prefer the short stories.

Anyway, they're running a contest, now, for an ARC of Tessa's new book, an ARC of which Robin has also received. She reviewed it on her blog, and then laughed evilly because it's not released yet. 9_9 To be entered in this contest, I have to post somewhere about my favorite of their stories, and then link to this post in the comments at their blog. Choosing one is pretty hard; I'm extremely fond of the ones about the paladin, or the one fairy who took over Delaware, the one about the demon bar-bouncer and Brenna's story for the MUGEL THE GIANT illustration prompt. Tessa's Frog Prince story; the MMA one based on a South African story; the one about the young man who shed his skin every New Year. There are dozens. In the end, however, I chose "Wag."

It's Maggie Stiefvater's story for the Hellhounds prompt. It's a bit of a grim warning: the thought is not necessarily what counts, and the road to hell is paved with good intentions. But it's also hopeful: sometimes it matters what your intentions are. Mostly, though, I like it for the loving way the dogs are described.

Busy day! We started out herding, of course, with the crew (in theory) me and Owen. In the end we were both given jobs, which we were supposed to do while herding. Save us all from trying to do regular chores with Dad around! So I was stuck trying to pick up trash and supervise the herd simultaneously, and Owen wasn't even supposed to pretend that he was herding, so far as I could tell. Sigh. So we went in from herding, took a break, and then I mashed tomatoes for Mom, who is trying to stay ahead of the garden without much success. She hasn't drowned yet in tomato sauce, at any rate. Following such indoor kitchen-based activities (there was cabbage beet relish, too) we all had some comp time, except Doug, who had gone with Dad to get a clothes dryer from Terry-at-work. While I was at Della, and therefore in an ideal position for phone answering, there was a call from a man in Adams who had a washer he wanted Dad to fix. He was willing to deliver it, and would deliver it in fifteen minutes. Did we have anyone here to help unload? I cast a panicky look at Peter and said we did. When he came, in an aged pickup with "Mayflower Honey" on the doors, he was accompanied by a grandson perhaps my age. They made short work of the dryer, I took Mr. Brewster's name and number, and they left. All very efficient.

Next the boys and I had to go pick up the pasture. Gah. They mostly sat around in a tree while I was out there, but after I went inside they seem to have accomplished something on their own accounts, which is good. They got on the computer while I waited around for Mom, and then she and I practiced my driving. I spent some time driving around the neighborhood, then she had me practice steering in the parking lot by the ballpark. It was a bit of a relief to actually get out and practice; I keep worrying that I'm just going to waste my permit and never actually learn. But maybe not.

By this time it was late afternoon, and I felt I could get away with going upstairs and reading. Mom has a new author for me, a rather good sci-fi writer named Connie Willis. The book was a novella, titled Uncharted Territories, and Mom wanted me to pay attention to Willis' backstory technique, which is very smooth. The story is fun, and I'm considering pursuing the author--except I still haven't gotten through Loretta Chase, even the books Mom wants me to read. Ack. And of course there's Diana Wynne Jones, but I've given up on getting through her in anything approaching an organized manner and am going to grab her books where and when I can. This decision was heavily influenced by the fact that Gere is the only branch with anything approaching a decent collection, and it's still pretty sad. Also I have to compete with the kids for 'em. Sigh. I may not finish reading her before I'm hunting her down for my kids.

Dad and Doug got home, after four, only to unload appliances and take off again after more. Then, when they got home for good, they had to start fixing things. The focus was on Mr. Brewster's washer, which was speedily healed; I'm still not sure if it was fixed by the time he phoned, or if Dad finished up while talking. Anyway, Dad was on the phone for quite a while, in that time discovering: Mr. Brewster is descended from the Governor Brewster of Plymouth Colony; he was very impressed with our professionalism (coughcoughchokeouch); his grandson had us pegged for homeschoolers right off; and he'll trade us a beehive for the washer repair. Ack!

Dad and Doug have replaced Mom's no-longer-functioning dryer, and they tried to put in a new washing machine but the new one didn't work. It was determined more economical to put the old one back. But we have a new dryer.

Owen is down with the flu. The germ has been making the rounds, starting with Mom, then going to Doug. Doug's symptoms have been reduced to a persistent cough, and Mom's entirely better, but Owen's in pretty bad shape. At least nobody's throwing up.

Golden Retriever, sheltie

Had to get up and get moving, because Philip had assigned housework before the bridge ladies came. I'd vacuumed upstairs and was starting on the bathroom when Stephanie appeared unexpectedly. By the time I was waiting for Syd to come for the lark, Lee was here too--albeit expected. 

It was a pretty good walk. We ran first of all into Jackson and his lady, followed shortly by the woman I'd met just before the second snake; she was accompanied by a man who might have been her husband. The next meeting was under the trees; a(n older) teenager with his sheltie stopped to engage in wary conversation with Lark. After that it was just us. When we got home I came over to Syd's to get some library books; I'd given them to her to take back, but as Philip was retreating into town while the bridge group was here, I took advantage of the opportunity to go to the library. Syd and I decided I might as well take the books back while I was at it. While I was there Syd had a video for me to watch, and then I showed her and Ralph the wedding video. They were pretty appreciative. Then Phil called and said we were leaving in ten minutes. I came home to find him sitting outside.

The library was pretty busy. Beguilement is still not available at East branch, so I found another Loretta Chase and sat down. It wasn't bad, but my favorite is still Mr. Impossible. I think I need to read more Carsington books, though--so far I've only seen two of the brothers catch it, and I know there are at least two more with their own books. Anyway, we ended up checking out and going home for lunch. (Philip had an Ian Banks.)

Larked after dinner. It was pretty cool out, and we weren't the only ones out. The Serious Discussion couple ran into us at the curve by the pond. Lark seemed unusually uncertain about greeting them, though. She was less uncertain about charging off into the scrub on the far side of the creek; there was one very impressive bound straight into the air at one point, as she tried to get a better look at her quarry. Unlike the doe earlier, this quarry turned around. The next I knew of it, Lark was charging out of the scrub, pursued by a coyote. It saw me and did an impressive about-face; Lark promptly did the same and started to chase it. I used the Voice. She came back, without having gotten very far. Possibly she is beginning to take coyotes seriously, although I somehow doubt it. Sigh. After that we didn't meet anyone until passing the couple on their way back, near the gate.

Watched Silence of the Lambs. I guess it was pretty good, but I don't deal with creeps very well.

Episode 6 of Castle: "Always Buy Retail." Mystery: occult. Personal: ex-wife trouble.

Brace of German Shepherds

Quiet morning. Philip went off to get the car serviced and stuff, and then I think he has to take Grandma for her INR. I put off Lark's walk because I thought we were doing the Incline, but I'm not sure when it's going to happen. It's a nice cool day, though, so if it turns out we're not doing the Incline I can just take her out. We might want to beware the kid on the motorbike who's been buzzing around outside for the past two hours or so, though.

Well, it had warmed up quite a bit by the time I found out Philip had done the Incline without me. In the meantime Lark was bouncing off the walls. At three-thirty the sun went behind a cloud, and I seized the moment and took her out. It was nice and cool, too, with a few drops of a rain and a little thunder. That had quit by the time we were almost to the pond, where I met a man with two extremely handsome German Shepherds in hand. Lark came running to me when she saw them (from a safe distance) and growled a very little and one as she tried to convince me to pick her up. I didn't, but the attempt put her head a couple of inches higher than theirs, so she was satisfied to leave it at that until we went on. After that the sun came out, and by the time we got home it was hot again.

Philip and I were talking on the couch, and the conversation, through circuitous routes, ended on Malcolm Reynolds from Firefly. Philip decided that I should watch an episode, and he picked "Our Mrs. Reynolds," episode eight, I believe. I think I like Richard Castle better, if we're talking Nathan Fillion, but it's pretty fun. Especially when you have the XKCD skateboard comics to remember while watching.

After dinner I fell asleep and didn't wake 'till ten. -_-; We cleaned up the kitchen and watched Castle 5, the resurrected case, "A Chill Runs Through Her Veins." They were lucky--the case was only five years old. I think Poirot's was forty.

After that I read the Mary Higgins Clark which has been lying around. Two Little Girls In Blue is suspense, and not much else. The writing is serviceable, with occasional sentences that make you stop and reconstruct them. The suspense is effective, and would make a good distraction if you were waiting somewhere and had nothing else to read; otherwise it's pretty pointless. Also there were too many characters, given a momentary voice and then abandoned, except for a page of two later on. Very few characters were permitted much development. It's pretty much a plot-driven book, with little support from the other elements.

It was ten when we larked, and pretty hot. We met no one on the first leg, but early in the second leg there was a teenager and his.....man, I don't know. Grandma? I didn't get a very good look. They remained within earshot behind us for most of the second leg. The boy sounded like he was talking a mile a minute, but I'm not sure what about. Maybe the weather--Lark and I were broiled by the time we got back.

After lunch Philip had me work on the SAT. I finished that practice test, and he totaled my score, although I don't think he scored the essay, which I finished. Oh, right--gotta post that for Mom. I think, besides that, my score was 1150, though. Not counting the essay. I took half-an-hour to write it, without referring to my last attempt (and going in a somewhat different direction). My arm was cramping before I finished.

About four we left to go to the church barbecue at Bear Creek. We took nearly an hour getting there, having an inadequate idea which of the various roads claiming to be a part of Bear Creek Park actually led to the park facilities. We found it eventually, however, and I played volleyball with some of the other kids/young adults (in the more literal sense) until it was time to eat. Rachel and Liz Debenedittis and several people I didn't know were on my side, with Sarah and Abby, Elise Mann, Matt, and some more people I don't know on the other team. Ben stood at the net and hit from either side--'libero' playing taken to a new extreme. I was getting fairly decent by the time we quit. We ate at six, I think, sitting with Abby, Ben, Matt, and Rachel opposite, and I think Josh Mann on Philip's far side. After dinner I watched everybody play Frisbee until it was time to go at seven. There should have been plenty of time to walk the dog before dark, but it started raining, and then thundering, so we went along the road almost to the trail and then turned back. I'm beginning to hate thunder, especially when I'm outside.

Philip and I then proceeded to spend at least an hour wrestling with the math problems on the SAT practice test that I missed. It was pretty interesting. There was one that he missed, and a few that he said I didn't need to learn just then, sometimes because I was just getting there in algebra and sometimes because he just didn't want to mess with it.

After that we did what he calls calisthenics, the same program as last night. I did better,  but crunches are.....geh. Abs + crunches = jelly, for lack of a better description.

Then we got floats and watched episode 4 of Castle, which was the politicians one. "Hell Hath No Fury" is the episode name--possibly because the murder was arranged/accompliced by the guy's wife, with assistance from his campaign manager, who did the deed for her.

Then I read some Waverley, started Wickford Point, and went to bed.

Whew. Just managed to get up on time, then lost time calling Lark, when of course she was playing with Isaac. Also there was no paper. And my dress needed a lot of ironing. In the end, I was dressed but not combed or shod when Liz rang the doorbell--fortunately a bit early. She talked to Grandma while I finished getting ready, and then Syd and Syd brought Lark home, as she'd been playing over there. The kids were going home, so Lark had to come home too.

We got to church in time--just before the announcements began, in fact. Pretty close. Pastor Reese gave a sermon on Mortification, as the last in the series on Sanctification. It was unprepared but still good, largely based on Romans 8 and John Owen. Liz liked that Owen was named for him. :p We stayed quite a while after the service, partly so everyone could chat but mostly, I think, because Mr. Debenedittis is an elder or something and had to help close up. There was one window stuck, because the rope had been derailed and then jammed in the pulley, and everyone stood around watching Ben try to get it loose with a screwdriver while the elders/deacons offered assistance and their families offered suggestions. It was pretty funny--and I think everyone restrained themselves, more or less. I mean, we kibitzed and heckled, but nicely.

After church Liz took me to the Debes' for lunch. Shawn and Matt Stickel were there too, but a bit more familiar with the ground, as Matt is dating, or engaged to, or something, Rachel Debenedittis, and Shawn is his dad. Actually, I think they're just dating but everyone expects them to marry, including the two of them, and it's pretty freely discussed. It's all pretty nice, although at this rate when Abby, and possibly Sarah, are dating, their elder sisters will not be nice. Er, they'll be mean, but probably nicely. Oh, and besides more or less getting the order of birth down, I found out that Abby is younger than me, which was a shock. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that all her sisters are older than me, and she's a lot like them, so I assumed she was older too? They all explained it to me as the youngest trying to keep up, which does make sense, and is at the same time somewhat related to my version above presented. Anyway, we all had lunch (after they fixed it, in which process guests are not permitted) and then everybody sat and talked for awhile. And then I got scolded for trying to help clear the table, and they drafted Mr. Debenedittis, who had hitherto been sitting and talking. For which I was razzed. Sorry-! But, again, nicely. Gah. This entire family is nice, I don't know if I can handle it. Anyway, Liz took me home about three-fifteen, to my immense regret, but I knew I had to leave sometime.......That actually sounds a lot like the larger situation here, too. Hm.

And then I spent some time on the computer and it occurred to me that I could probably try for a job at, say, sheep! magazine after I graduate, thus combining the interests. Hm.

Then I spent a couple of hours reading One Foot In the Grave, a mystery by Peter Dickinson set in a nursing home. I did this outside, while Lark wandered about as she pleased and I whistled periodically to indicate that, should she be within earshot and so inclined, her return would be perfectly acceptable. Then I went inside, read some more, had something to eat, and went out to look for her. It was rather an adventure, in spite of worrying, because I've never had a real excuse to be out in the dark before. There were too many deer to count, but few enough to categorize: the doe, when it was still light enough to identify her as the sick one (unless there are rather a lot of does in bad shape about), now recovering; the buck, above me on the hill, who observed (and listened to) me calmly until I came too close, at which point he began to move away. I've noticed that even if you can't see the antlers, you can still identify a buck by the way he holds his head, balancing. It was becoming very dark when I surprised rather a herd, making them flee, one by one and then all of them, out of a thick stand of brush, dark blurs bounding through the darkness. I came to the house that overlooks the Heller road, from the balcony of which a large dog barks at us. I came down its driveway to Eagle Rock, still calling every minute or so. I had not been on the road long when Lark came bustling up, wriggling about, for once my pleasure in seeing her equal to hers in seeing me.  Grandma told me she'd dropped by the house, without coming in, then gone to find me. I'd been considering ringing doorbells--it was, after all, only nine o'clock. There was enough light to see wherever I put my feet, but little beyond.

She wanders up to me now, diffidently, wondering if she's exhausted her credit for petting; I hold a hand out, and she comes to stand next to me as I rub her side. I'm getting a headache.

Sunny and cool this morning, which meant that the cool didn't last long on our walk. It was nice in the shade, but otherwise we roasted. Met no one.

Grandma and Jinn left for bridge shortly after we got back from the walk. Got some laundry done, did some computing, had lunch. Then called Syd to ask if she wanted to go to the library. She did! Yay! So we went to the library, and for once I had more unread checkouts than rereads. Wow. Found a Caroline Stevermer (necessitating an expedition into the teen section, which was crowded--a little easier that way) and a Peter Dickinson mystery. I had to restrain myself from checking out the Stevermers that I have waiting for me, in omnibus form, at home, but in the end restraint triumphed. Besides, I got plenty else--although not the Bujold I've been trying to get five weeks running. Sigh. I should have taken Syd up on the offer to go to Penrose....oh well. I got plenty, anyway. More or less spent the rest of the afternoon reading.

Dinner was late, and our walk short. It was almost dark, but I could see three boys sitting in the pine just before the Heller gate. Lark wanted to ask them what they were doing, but I talked her out of it. Otherwise there was no one out. We didn't go the full way, only a little along the road, and then I decided to go some distance down the road to Nevada. I've tried this before, only Lark stopped and wouldn't go any further, while looking at me as though I were crazy. Well, we got a little farther this time. Then she stopped. Sigh. So I came back, and we went home. And I have a headache.

Slept in--not sure why, but I don't think Grandma called me. That or I just don't remember. Total menace of a reprobate canine in my dream, though, and then the insane family that produced him--in training if not genetics. Seemed like they were at B's--dunno. Crazy horse, too, but that was all right. Oh well. It wasn't much of a loss--it's cold and wet outside, to the extent of wearing a jacket on our walk. Met a doe--I think she was the ill one from a few days ago, but in substantially better shape, to the extent of being able to leap the fence when Lark took after her. It began to sprinkle as we got home, and was raining seriously by noon. Carole and Grandma went to run errands, and I have laundry to do--Grandma wants me to wash it ahead of time, before packing. I feel like I'm packing a week early--not the intention, but probably how it'll end up if I don't watch myself.

Got some laundry done. Read Faust, began the Divine Comedy. 

Had dinner at lunchtime, rather late, and dinner even later--Grandma wasn't hungry, having snacked earlier, so I just warmed up some of last night's pasta. Then we larked. It was a bit cool, not that the jacket stayed on long, but we only met one person. Everywhere were signs of water, from today's downpour. The level of sand in the creek bottom was down by a couple of inches, and what remained was packed hard.

Bloodhound puppy, golden, Boston bull terrier

Dreamed Lark successfully put up the ewe lambs and two unfamiliar goats. Despite the animals all looking more or less right, it was a pretty unrealistic dream. Everyone went where I wanted them to. Also the ewe lambs looked about the same as when I left, which shouldn't be right.

Lee came early and took Grandma outside, which is becoming the norm. I don't think Philip got up until she left, and I know he never ate breakfast. Lunatic.

Lark did not get a walk this morning. At least, not a normal walk. First she had a ride in the car, where, despite the availability of food all morning, she did not get sick. At all. Then she had a walk--a long one, up a hill along the road from where we parked. Then we had to climb the horribly steep trail up to the stairs. At that point, I sat down--Philip had pretty much left us behind on the trail, and waited for us at the steps. There were, again, a lot of people climbing, although it was rather hotter than Saturday at first, with the sun coming and going. I think we were past the false summit before it began to rain. There was a guy climbing with a couple of kids--Oliver, a dog-lover with lots of energy, and Grace, with less attention to spare as she worked her way up. She really did well, considering how overweight she is--I'd say there's hope for her yet. Quite a lot, really, if she can finish the Incline on her first try. The young woman with the bloodhound puppy was doing it again--what with Lark, Zeus, and a young Golden, it looked rather like a puppy play date on the slope above us. Lark was having lots of fun, as I'd finally let her off the leash. I'd been wondering if Phil would approve, but when he suggested it I quit worrying about it. The view, as omitted in the last post on this subject, was great; I could even see our hill, and figure out approximately where the house was. At one point there was an enormous curtain of cloud obscuring it, though; I wonder if it corresponded with the rain at noon, which Grandma told us about. By the time we made the false summit Phil was pushing me pretty persistently, and then he came up with a system: go thirty steps, rest ten seconds. Okay. We'd done maybe half a dozen of these when there were about four more steps, at which point we dropped the system. There's a lovely flat space with lots of rocks and things to sit on at the top; we sat for awhile, admiring the view, having a drink (Philip had refused all water until the top), giving the dog a drink, and cheering Grace on. Oliver did twenty pushups, but they weren't very deep. It made me think of Grandma's story of taking Doug on the Cog Railway: once at the top, she warned him of altitude sickness, and he promptly went to the edge of the pavement and started doing pushups. Gah. We all took the trail down, in installments as one group or another left separately, and it was quite a while down the trail before my legs were anywhere near as tired as the first time. My left, while sore, was never rubbery--a relief. It began to rain more heavily on the trail, and after a bit of that Lark started giving me pathetic looks--"I don't like this, make it stop, c'mon Mom, there's stuff hitting my head!" She was alright otherwise, but we were both pretty wet by the time (after an interminable trek past various now-empty parking) we made it to the car. I toweled her off a bit with the sweater Grandma had suggested I bring, and which had hitherto served no useful purpose. But Lark lay down on it, and tried to go to sleep. (Unsuccessfully, as she slid about on the vinyl seat, but the effort was there and I appreciated it.) She came wide awake as we got to Boonzaijer's, though, and it dawned on her that Philip and I were getting out of the car and--worse--she wasn't. We went in and got fruit tarts, which are delicious confections of cream in a pastry shell with strawberry, kiwi, orange, and grape slices on top. I looked out at the parking lot as we ate, and there was that little pointed face at the window, waiting for us to come back. We did so shortly, with a slice of Belgian double chocolate mousse cake for Grandma; Lark was delighted to see me. She calmed down before we got home, though. The light was red for our turn onto Nevada, and as we sat there, watching the arrow, hail began to ping onto the windshield, closely followed by huge drops of rain. We--eventually--pulled into the driveway in a downpour. Philip ducked out of the car and dashed for the door. I tried to open my door so Lark could follow while I collected my stuff. It wouldn't open--the rear passenger doors on the Vic open only from the outside. Philip came dashing back to open it, and I let Lark out to follow him, then reached for my hat and backpack. When I got out of the car, Lark was waiting, in the pouring rain (which she detests), for me to come too. I was touched.

Followed lunch, dry clothes, and conversations. My muscles, while a bit tired, are not yet seriously complaining. 

Nap......

Philip went back to Golden after dinner--something to do with work. 

Started Wuthering Heights after the comp shut down. Got two chapters in and switched to Moliere. Grandma has a Heritage volume with Tartuffe and The Would-be Gentleman--much more fun than Bronte, and with great illustrations. And I am glad to say I can now disagree with Napoleon's summary of Tartuffe--"A third-rate comedy"--with a more informed opinion.

15 pushups, 20 situps, 5 elbow-to-knees (Lark always gets worried at this point), and three arabesque stretches.

Golden Retriever, pughuahua?

Finished Three Came Home last night. Oops. Hadn't meant to do that. Oh well.....

Spent some time petting the cat, whose people should be returning today. Maybe I should call Brook and ask when.... 

Larked in good time, with the air still nice and cool. Met an elderly lady and her elderly Golden at the gate--Lark growled at him for coming too close to me.....this really is not good. Oh, and we saw a weasel; which is to say, Lark saw it and jumped, and then a couple seconds later I saw it about fifteen feet up a tree. Heh. It was a sort of reddish brown, with a pale grey underside. Yay new wildlife! Anyway, he looked pretty much like the top picture on this page. Although I have to say I don't think I've ever heard that version of "Pop! goes the weasel" before.....

Ah, and there was some sort of big truck, of the utilities variety, at the Heller Center. We were almost to the trail when he drove out, and I grabbed Lark's collar and got us there while the driver waited. Mm. Met another older lady out on the trail, then didn't see anyone until we got home. And we keep coming home when it's (objectively) still cool out, so no swamp cooler....

Quiet afternoon. Found an Ogden Nash collection and Kate Greenaway's Language of Flowers, printed in 1879 but all the young ladies in the illustrations are wearing Regency styles. Also it vindicates my side of the argument about flower languages: Mom says authors just make it all up as they go, with which I disagree. And here's this. Muahaha.

Philip got in as I was getting the mail while hoping the rice would dry out a bit. Last night's was some of the worst fried rice I have ever produced. Sigh. We ate it, though. With watermelon afterwards. I was about to take Lark out afterwards when Syd got home and came over, with a couple of granddaughters in tow--I assume they'd come with their mother to get Syd and Ralph from the airport. Lark, who was already excited about going for a walk, absolutely exploded. It was like when you blow up a balloon and then let it loose to zip around. Lol. Oh, and I got paid.....too much, but I'm not going to complain.

After that we larked. Philip had a movie scheduled close to eight, but we had plenty of time--I think it was about seven when we got home. In the meantime, it began to rain lightly shortly after we got out. We met a couple people--more than on a hot day--a woman with a dog, which looked very much like a cross between a pug and a chihuahua. Lark was a bit aggressive--he yelped, I grabbed her, they departed, I gave her a talking-to. For all the difference it's likely to make. Geh. Later there was a young guy out jogging, too--pretty cute, in a bland kind of way. It rained the entire time we were out.

We got home and Philip told me I ad to be ready to go in fifteen minutes. We were going to see Moon, which was only showing downtown and therefore required time to get there. Philip, please note, got into the shower only after I got home, and could reasonably be expected to use the bathroom. I ended up getting dressed in the studio, as soon as he was firmly in the shower.

Moon is suspense and sci-fi, with some mystery and a bit of psychological, I guess. Not my thing on so many levels, but I suppose it was a good movie. Pretty open-ended, but at the same time it doesn't feel like the answers to those questions would really fit. He goes back to Earth, and that's it? Well, no, but that's a story for another day--maybe. For our imaginations, maybe.

We got home about ten, and Philip promptly hooked the laptop up to the TV for another episode of Castle. I think the plot was a bit better in this one; in the last one, with our mystery writer tagging along with the cop the entire point of the plot was that it be something a mystery writer could predict, and therefore, it follows, a reader too. At least if you've read as many of the greats as I have, the writers who created these plots and cliches. Anyway, episode 2 was a bit less predictable, and our novelist shines slightly less in the revelation of plot points; this one took him by surprise, too. We are, however, discovering more about our lovely cop, although I object rather to having it laid out clearly for more obtuse viewers on Castle's laptop, as it is likewise revealed about the character in his new series, the ostensible reason for his tagging along behind Beckett on her cases. Besides the Mayor's being a fan, anyway--the man has fans everywhere, and uses them to a disgusting but expediting degree.

Incline tomorrow--so not prepared in any way, shape, or form.....

Big brown mix with black shading again

Up a bit late. The cat was glad to see me. Had to spray some ants--Syd left the can out, with the request to use it if necessary. There were more this afternoon, this time focussing on the food dish rather than the counter. Sprayed those too. Syd's coming home tomorrow--and everything's still alive....(To "everything's" Spellcheck says: "Are you sure about that?" Yes, thank you.)

An uneventful morning walk. It was sunny out, although not, technically, hot, and nobody else was out. Phooey. I'd been hoping for the lady and the Golden, at least. I like 'em. Lark disapproves of Jackson, though. "Get away from her!" she says when I pet him. Sigh. I'm not sure whether to call this an advance in our relationship or not, but either way I disapprove. Gonna have to figure out what to do about it--she can't just tell me not to pet other dogs; I mean, she talks to other people.....I'm sorry, dear, petting is not an exclusive part of a relationship any more than conversation. Live with it.

Ended up not getting on the comp 'til after three, with one thing and another. I regretted the delay once I got on--Doug had been on all morning, talking into thin air. Oops. He seems to be into Russian Novelists at the moment: having cut a swathe through Solzhenitsyn, he's now reading Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky. None of these names are acknowledged as legit by Spellcheck--so helpful....

Clouded up by dinnertime, with rain threatening by the time we larked. We met the iPod-bearing jogger with the big brown mix again; he doesn't leash his dog, but always reaches for his collar when he sees us. Last time we ran into him, we were in his blind spot, coming down the creek bed as he came down the main path; he stopped and grabbed for his (obediently heeling) dog as soon as he was aware. I think I disapprove of earbuds while out: there's so much else to pay attention to, and in the end it's rather a liability. Perhaps a sturdy man in good shape, accompanied by a large dog, doesn't need to be quite so alert as a woman whose dog is as petite as she is, but it's always good to be aware of what's going on around you. We also met the Asian/Caucasian couple, who I begin to suspect go on walks for Serious Discussions. That's what it's always sounded like as I approach, although I'm glad to say not too serious. It may just be the natural tendency of his voice to sound like he's talking about something important, though. I don't know. I have every expectation that this will remain the case, nor would I want it otherwise. One family's problems are enough.

Reading Three Came Home. I wasn't at all sure I wanted to read a prison camp book just now, but Keith has a terrific style of her own, amusing and serious in turns, and very sympathetic. I can't find Mom's other recommendation, Christ Stopped at Eboli, but I did find Wuthering Heights. It's on the table for consideration, while I read Three Came Home. I am not at all sure I want to start reading the darker/crazier English classics--Grandma and I were talking about Thomas Hardy at dinner--but I've been thinking about it, and will no doubt continue to do so. A book about three men making sheep's eyes at an ice queen fails to attract me, large supporting cast of actual sheep notwithstanding.

15 pushups, form improving; 16 situps, having realized how pointless it is to continue after my abs have quit and left all the work to back and (somehow) shoulders; 5 standing elbow-to-knees; 3......a bit like an arabesque but I'm holding the outstretched leg at the ankle. All of which are no doubt very good for me, but they don't seem to do much for the Incline-afflicted muscles. Hm.

Well, I wasn't as sore this morning as I had expected. I did not, for one thing, want to scream until I actually stood up. And it was only really bad when I took stairs. Yeowch. Nonetheless, I bestirred myself, since Philip gave me fifteen minutes (from the middle of breakfast) to use the bathroom before he needed it. I was finished in plenty of time and heading over to the Seamans' before he was out of bed. Maddie was extremely glad to see me, the door to the master bedroom having blown shut again, this time with her outside. Her food, water, and litterbox are all in the master bathroom. You see the problem. She wolfed her gooshyfood, then galloped 'round to check if I'd opened the door yet. I had, and she ran for the litterbox.

That taken care of, I came home to find Philip getting into the shower. We got out the door at nine-thirty precisely, and made it to church with a couple of minutes to spare. The preacher was a guest, an enthusiastic man with a neat white beard, with "Christ is the King" as his topic. The text was from I Corinthians, with points from throughout the Scriptures. The sermon didn't really have much in the way of a planned outline that I could hear, and there certainly wasn't one on the back of the bulletin, but it wasn't a bad sermon. And one of the psalms was to a tune I knew, which happens about once every two weeks if I'm very lucky.

Afterwards Mrs. Kleinbeart had some questions about homeschooling, having done some with her children, and then I went and talked to Jenna while Philip chatted with a girl I don't know. They were plotting a fourteener once I leave. Sigh. Oh, and the camping trip is cancelled. Logistical difficulties, apparently. And Philip is planning to take me home the first week in August. Sigh. Well, I suppose I have a lot to catch up on.....including Lark's relationship with the stock. Will her increased obedience level go straight down the tubes with the first glimpse she catches of an airbrained ewe lamb? We'll see.

I decided it was time to go for a walk around two, precisely timed for the rain to start once we were fairly out. I decided to keep going, as it wasn't very heavy; it wasn't until the rain began more heavily, and Lark began giving me looks expressive of the opinion that this was stupid, why didn't I do something about this stuff hitting her on the head, that we turned back. In good time; for the thunder became serious as we headed for home, and once there was a crack of lightning directly above me that seriously scared me. We went for home at a smart pace, with a pause at the gate as I waited for some thunder to subside before I touched the metal. I have no idea if this precaution was actually worth anything or not; I was, however, quite certain that I did not wish to touch a tall metal gate, at all. It was a compromise. We reached the house with no mishaps, at least, and Lark submitted to toweling with slightly more docility than usual, which is to say she didn't gnaw on me very much. I hung my clothes up to dry and sat down with Maurois' Disraeli. It's extremely absorbing, and leads me to wonder if any of Maurois' other biographies are available in English.

Philip left for Golden while Grandma and I were having dessert, after suggesting some rather convoluted plans for the schedule next week. I think he said something about coming down Wednesday for both mental and physical torments, namely, the Incline and some SAT math. He would then go back to Golden on Friday, coming back....I'm not sure when. Before Wednesday again, I imagine.

Finished Disraeli before bed.

15 pushups, about 16 situps. Decided there was no point continuing after my abs quit--I'm not doing this just to bust my back and (somehow) shoulders.....

Golden Retriever

Got out for the walk about nine-thirty, after spending some time with Maddie. Carole was here when I left--she and Grandma were headed for the doctor's office for another INR. It was pretty hot out, but there were some people out--ran into an older woman who walks alone about at the creek crossing. I stopped in front of the stand of scrub there to look back for Lark, who was just then coming past the woman, with a polite greeting in her walk. Then I heard a buzz behind me. I whirled so fast, I don't even remember doing it and was standing on the far side of the trail staring at the rattlesnake that had been curled in the shade behind me. Yikes! This time I remembered the "run and hope Lark follows" plan. It didn't work. I looked back to check and the dog was just sticking her nose into the brush where I'd been standing. "Lark!!" That worked. She came. Tell me that's not the exact reverse of what we thought would work--I came up with running because I was sure calling her would be useless. Guess not..... We ran into Jackson the Golden and his lady up in the trees, and since she was headed the way we'd been I warned her about the snake. She was shocked--she'd been going back and forth along the shady trail, and on her last pass Jackson has been sniffing around about where we'd found the snake. She'd thought he'd found a dead animal or something, and had called him away. Meep. Yay obedient dogs. Lark is still warning Jackson away from me, though.....ahem. I was talking to her when the lady from earlier caught up with us. She heard us say "snake", and stopped to ask about it. She'd heard me call Lark when she'd found the snake, and was a bit shaken to hear how close she'd been herself. Yeah. I did the rest of that hike on adrenaline, afraid to stop once we were on the winding, rocky half lest I learn more about the area I was in--such as what else was there. It's great terrain for snakes, you see. I felt better once we were back on the road, but Lark was beginning to drag pretty badly. I was still able to move briskly. Have I mentioned I'm doing a study on long pants when it's hot? Apparently they help. I have no idea why, but I have more energy left when wearing long pants than in shorts. Also I'm less certain that a snake would be able to inject me.....ahem. Long pants + summer = comfort. Somehow.

With any luck, she'll learn which animals to stay away from based on which ones I shriek at her for talking to......so far we have rattlesnakes and coyotes. It would probably cloud the issue a bit if she ever met the huge garter snake that lives in the rocks over the culvert, but I don't believe she's encountered him yet. It's a very retiring creature.

Spent the afternoon reading Three Men In a Boat, not yet feeling up to choosing something else off Grandma's shelf without a prior recommendation. Besides that, it's a lot of effort for a book one isn't sure one wants to read. Three Men In a Boat, however, is most definitely a book one wants to read. Humor takes its turn with Victorianly poetic descriptions of scenery and imaginative descriptions of local history--one of my (several) favorite parts is Jerome's plaint on the subject of living with lovers, segueing smoothly, if bitterly, into a contemplation of how it must have been for the people who had to live with Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn during their necking period, and how difficult is must have been to avoid them.  In general, it's rather difficult to remember that this is written in the nineteenth century, as to my ear it has a great deal in common with most of the really good English writing I've been exposed to. Now and then it rather smacks one, however, as when Jerome is wondering flippantly whether, in the year 2000, the willow china of the day will be set on the mantel as ornament. Well, as a matter of fact, I'm very much afraid so. I don't know about the Ramsgate souvenirs, though.

Messaged Mom for new reading material, then found a book on the shelf: The Literary Courtship, by Anna Fuller. How could I resist? It turned out to be a romance, written and set in the early 1900's, and taking place largely in Colorado Springs, complete with photographs. One, of Nevada Avenue, surprised me with its familiarity: the street is paved now, but Philip and I take it on the way home from church every Sunday. The story itself was sweet, simple, and pretty predictable, at least to the veteran of such novels. All in all, there were no surprises, but the writing was enjoyable and the narrating character sympathetic.

Fed the cat and watered the plants after dinner, then took Lark on her run. There appeared to be a gathering of the picnic or barbecue variety at the green house; what was less explicable was the man sitting in the car parked along the road. Nor was he explained; but he did warn me about continuing, saying I was likely to run into a bunch of boys playing Airsoft war out back, and that they might mistake me for one of them. I thanked him for the warning and acknowledged this possibility. I was wearing a white t-shirt, which was helpful, but I made sure to take off my hat. In the end I doubt they noticed me, being occupied in camping behind their cover and carrying on urgent discussions through their walkie-talkies. Spoiled kids.....We did meet, some way into the trail, a middle-aged couple. The woman paused to ask about Lark, and to tell me they'd run into a similar dog earlier. To my regret, we saw no sign of any other dogs, nor met anyone else.

Golden retriever, poodle mix

Maddie was glad to see me this morning. I spent some time playing with her after checking all the plants, but had to quit when the claws came out. We larked as soon as I got home, which was pretty late. It was hot out. We met a couple of people on the Heller road--a man jogging, and the woman with her Golden who warned us about the rattler last time. She didn't recognize me until she was right close and I was talking to her dog, though. Maybe because I was wearing different camos and a nonmilitary t-shirt? Hm. Anyway. Despite the heat, I managed to maintain a good brisk pace, even back up the hill on the way home, so maybe there's something to be said for long pants? Or something. I've also been thinking about borrowing Syd's bike, which she suggested before she left, but I'm still not sure I want to. I'll probably just procrastinate until I get home.

Owen, as requested, sent me some brother-pics. The one most to the point was Mom standing between Peter and Doug--and looking up at Peter. Quite a ways up, in fact. 

Urk. Maybe I should take a few weeks of Krav before I go home.

After lunch I decided to make brownies. Grandma had shown me where everything was, and I had just cracked the first egg, when the doorbell rang. Oops. It was the folks from JJ Caulking, come to inspect the situation. Jackie was along, apparently an irregular occurrence, plus her husband, Sam, and one of the boys, Clint. I use the term "boy" loosely, as he's twenty-seven. Anyway. They didn't stay very long, and then I got back to the brownies. I'd finished, and was initiating cleanup, when a deer caught my eye: there was a doe, probably once a nice bright red, standing on our side of the edge of the Seamans' driveway. Her presence, in itself, was unusual; besides it being the middle of the day and all, Grandma says the red deer rarely come up here, and it's true that she's the first I've seen beyond the Heller estate. Besides that, however, she looked awful. Her ribs were showing through her faded, patchy coat, and there were suspicious little black marks that made me think of very fat flies all up her neck and along her head. It was pretty sad. I think she was probably old; her movements were measured and slow, like Cassie's, and when Lark dashed into the greenhouse and began barking up a storm she turned her head, examined the situation, and then decided the dog was no threat. She remained wary, however, and after a minute or so she began to move slowly off.

The brownies came out very well. :) Now I'm wondering if I should take Sam up on his teasing and really make brownies for the painters when they come. If I don't I know he'll tease me, and I'd love to see his reaction if he thinks I took him seriously......mweheh.

Larked after dinner. We met only one person, a familiar jogger with his little poodle. No deer. It was fairly nice out, there having been a downpour during dinner, but there didn't seem to be anyone taking advantage of it. There was a police helicopter, though, flying back toward the far end of the little Heller valley.

15 pushups, form improving; 20 situps--note: don't count in English.

Finished Mistress of an Age, reading for three hours straight.....

It was pretty cool this morning, up until the sun came out--just before we larked. Oh, well. It remained very cool in the shade, with intermittent breezes elsewhere. We survived. There was a doe watching us from across the creek, once; she had a lovely cool nest in the tall grass under a tree, and looked very comfortable. Perhaps there was a fawn nearby. A bit later we met a girl out jogging. She was blonde, and my age or a little older.

New info and plan on the camping. Apparently it runs from the 31st through the 5th; Philip, for various reasons, can't go, but he does think I could go by myself, if he can find someone at church to give me a ride. This suggestion is making me, very quietly, freak out, but I'd like to try all the same, I think. I need a lot more info, though....

Finished the chapter on Germaine's ideology, started the one on her relationship with Napoleon, which tries--and is, so far, doing a pretty good job--to explain why she and the little Corsican did not get along. Oh, and I finished the verbal sections of the SAT, in some cases with half the time to spare. There were several questions, however, that I could not answer to my own satisfaction. Whether they will be to the test's satisfaction I do not know.

Ran over to Syd's after dinner. Maddy followed me through the house as I performed a perimeter check and cleared the area, and demonstrated a much better appetite for her gooshyfood than last time. Otherwise nothing of note. Well, the rain. It was sopping outside. It was down to sprinkling when we got out on our walk, and cleared up shortly after. Speaking of the walk, the most interesting occurrence was meeting a family at the bend in the trail near the head of the creek. The boy--early teens?--was holding a GPS device, and everyone was following. As I approached they were going off the trail, then rerouted onto is as the oracle told them they were getting cold. "Playing GPS?" I asked, after they'd noticed out presence--Lark first, as she wriggled up. She tends to be wrigglier with men than women, but here she had both--besides the mom, there was a girl somewhere around my age. Dad began explaining to me the game they were playing--GeoCache, by which you find various caches with your GPS, leave your name, and go on to the next. Exciting outdoor family activity. Sounds good. They certainly enjoyed it. Well, the guys did--mom and daughter weren't so vocal......although possibly they were merely eyeing me with suspicion as I peered at screens and things. I don't know. It was a good walk, anyway.

Four coyotes

Nice and cool and wet this morning. It actually stayed that way all through the walk, too, although the sun came and went. We didn't meet anyone, but I did learn something. Crows really croak. Like frogs. Bullfrogs. Grrroak. I never knew. I would not, however, have minded in the least if the crow, after educating me thus, had either gone somewhere else or shut up. He kept flying, back and forth, overhead until we got out onto the road. Sheesh. He must've thought I really needed the lesson drilled into my head.

Quiet day, really. Reading The Forever King, somebody's sequel to their slightly modified--majorly modified--version of The Once and Future King. Several characters, including Arthur, have reincarnated, and a couple never died. It's not bad, I suppose.

Went over to Syd's to be briefed on the house-sitting. Since it seems the camping trip is a week later than thought, she doesn't need to arrange anything separate for the weekend. Also Phil told her there will be no camping trip, because of Austin's wedding, but I'm still not sure whether he was clear on the actual date at this point. Hope lives eternal....

Larked about seven-thirty. It was really nice out: cool, cloudy, no visible sun. Lots of bugs, though. We were more than halfway along the narrow, twisty second leg of trail when I saw four coyotes: parent leading two pups, with the other parent bringing up the rear. Lark, fortunately, never saw them, but we came under some rather suspicious scrutiny. The adults seemed to feel were best left alone, I'm glad to say. Later on, as we came up the road, a doe bounded across; I'm still not sure if Lark found her or not, because she went off-trail for awhile when we came up to the point she crossed.

15 pushups 20 situps

Some sort of big mix

Got up more promptly than otherwise, but lost any time gained thus by following the dog over to Sid's and falling into conversation with her. She says we should be able to figure something out for this weekend, which is when I'm supposed to be house-sitting, and also when the church camping trip is. Actually I'm house-sitting Wednesday through Tuesday, but I'm asking for Saturday and Sunday off. Which, Sid says, can be arranged. Probably.

FOUR HOURS A DAY?!?! LIUGF;OIHDG[ODIFS VKJNS'E! 

Kill.

Went to the doctor's office with Grandma and Syd for Grandma's INR test. Six milligrams, come back Friday. Stopped at King Soopers; Lark was low on dog food.

Had a nice long talk on the phone with home after dinner. Lots of stock news, heard everyone's voices. Doug cracked up completely at Syd's remark about reincarnating as my dog. Had to lark as soon as I got off the phone, though; it was nice and cool after the evening's rain, but there were a lots of bugs chewing on me. There was a magnificent red buck watching us from the other side of the valley, once. We only met one person, and jogger and his dog. He grabbed the dog immediately he saw us, and held his collar until he figured he was out of range. I had to leash Lark, though, or his calculation would've been way off.

Started reading Legacy about as soon as I learned my comp time was limited. Grrrrr.

The Magicians and Mrs. Quent (massive spoilers)

Galen Beckett's The Magicians and Mrs. Quent, while a creditable attempt at transplanting the Regency, has failed to capture the style of the period. His dialogue, attempting to echo Austen, sounds merely like a barely tolerable imitation. Had I been his editor, I would have assigned him some reading and revision: more Austen, Georgette Heyer, perhaps Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, and then go through the entire book and see how it sounds to you, Mr. Beckett. 

As the book progresses, and the characters spend less time in the high society that Beckett had trouble portraying, the style becomes a bit less irritating. After awhile I started paying more attention to characters and their lines than the style, which is more fun. It began with thinking that Mrs. Lockwell sounded exactly like Mrs. Bennet, if slightly less obnoxious--Mr. Lockwell did love her, and still does, even through the madness. Then Mr. Wyble, the cousin, appeared, and the resemblance to Mr. Collins is impossible to miss. There was a moment when I was afraid Mr. Rafferdy was going to pull a Darcy, but he laughed instead and the moment passed. Indeed, he was all condescension--not. He's really nice. It took much longer for me to identify Charles Bingley and Lady Catherine, and I've only just realized who Georgiana is, and several characters never appear. I am glad to say that none of Ivy's sisters ever made the acquaintance of Wickham: he was solely Charles Bingley's problem. Well, and Ivy's for a little while, but at the end of their acquaintance his discomfiture was not difficult to accomplish.

Mind you, Part One, Invarel, has more characters in common than plot. While Ivy does have a convalescent stay in Lady Marsdel's house, rather more agreeable than a prolonged stay at Rosings would have been (I think Galen is a Lady Catherine sympathizer, or at least doesn't hate her--I was going to check the DWG, but I haven't gotten to the fanfic yet, only Novel Idea), Charles Bingley is pulled into bad company as he tries to support his sister (and is probably gay), and Rafferdy, on the verge of rushing out to propose to Ivy, listens to his father for once and decides to shoulder his inevitable responsibilities. Part One ends with the introduction, through a letter, of Mr. Quent, whose appearance I'd been awaiting as soon as I realized that the Mrs. Quent of the title was nowhere in sight. Important character, not been introduced yet, Ivy must marry someone named Quent. Q.E.D. Anyway, he needs a governess, he wants Ivy, their mother just died and is therefore in no position to argue, and they need the money.

Part Two, Heathcrest, made me think immediately of Jane Eyre. Well, she's going off to be a governess in a dark and scary house somewhere in the country, right? Although her poor sisters are stuck in what is now Mr. Wyble's house, since it was entailed to him. He moved right in, too, the creep. And had their father committed, although that took awhile. Anyway, Part Two is written in first person perspective, as is Jane Eyre; here, however, Ivy is writing not to a hypothetical reader, but to her father, although he will not be able to read them. I'm going off on a tangent. It does have a lot in common with Charlotte Bronte's work, anyway, although I have to say the children are rather better-developed characters than the child Miss Eyre tutored. Mr. Quent's appearances are few and, for Ivy, awkward; he doesn't spend much time at home, except when things are going wrong. This they proceed to do, and Ivy begins worrying the mystery of the Wyrdwood, seemingly connected to Mr. Quent's deceased young wife. She ends by discovering a number of disturbing things, most of them uncomfortably close to herself, and also gains a very nice husband. While not quite the obvious choice, one is certain he will make her happy. Except that he's a witch hunter. And she's a witch. And he was aware of it long before she was......

Part Three, Durrow Street, is pretty much cleaning up most of the messes discovered in Invarel and Heathcrest. Not all of them, mind you; it's very clear that this is not a standalone book. Mr. Lockwell is still insane; the rebellion is still fomenting; Eldyn--Charles Bingley--.....is actually pretty well set, but I think he still has adventures to come; we still have no idea who Ivy's real father is, although whether this will become an issue is questionable; and Rafferdy has yet to be married off to some nice debutante. I should add that if, in the third or fourth book, Mr. Quent is killed off and Ivy marries Rafferdy, I will be very upset. Possibly to the extent of discovering exactly where in Colorado Mr. Beckett resides.

I think, of all the more minor characters, Mr. Bennick is my favorite. I'm not sure why; perhaps because, when I first encountered him, it was not someone from Pride and Prejudice that I thought of, nor yet from Jane Eyre. Mr. Bennick reminded me of Aragorn. It is, perhaps, an unjust comparison, for Mr. Bennick was, at the time of his last appearance, a traitor; yet, for all the evidence against him, I think more of their shared habit of speaking out of dark corners. I may be wrong in thinking that by the end he may be an ally. I may be wrong in comparing him to Professor Snape, who seems, from what I've heard, to come out on the good side on a regular basis. I don't know. But I like him. He's a cool character.