Fire and Hemlock by Diana Wynne Jones

I don't know if I'm happy or annoyed with myself for not picking up this book earlier. I've had it for ages. It's bloody brilliant.
All the same, I'm over the middle right now and can't wait to find out how it all ends. The temptation to leaf to the end and have a quick peek is great. I'm resisting.

Nothing much really happens in this book. It takes place in GB in modern times. It's just a life of a girl, called Polly, from age 10 to 19. Only one day, at 19, she suddenly discovers that she's got another set of memories in her head - a set she'd completely forgotten and didn't know about. About people, things she'd done, strange things, too. And now, she's remembering.
And there's this person, Tom. He's a grownup, ordinary man, who she met when she was 10 at a funeral, of all places.
They took a liking to each other, and started playing a game - "Let's pretend you're not you". They invented that Polly would be assistant-hero in training, and Tom - a hero in training, and they'd tell each other stories how those two would kill dragons, fight wizards etc. Sometimes, when they are together, these stories almost come true, in a sort of and round-about way. Polly and Tom are not sure they want to believe it's not a coincidence.
And then there is the family of Tom's ex-wife. Seems right nasty people. And also seems they are somehow controlling Tom, and they don't like Tom's friendship with Polly. They hate it, actually. And they can do stuff to split them up and hurt them, strange stuff. Like making garbage flow together into a great, ugly shape-monster and pursue them. Or make Polly's mom hate her and put her out of home (that one ends well, Polly gets to live with her grandmother). Or bring to life tin-armour in an amusement fair's House of Horrors, and attack them. Yes. Well. As I said before, strange stuff.
And that's how far I've gotten. And I think they won't be talking anymore after this last incident - there were hints about it earlier. And Polly will forget everything - how? Why?
I want to find out all the answers. That's a DWJ's book, she usually gives out all the explanations in the very last chapter, along with a grand-finale scene where almost every character participates. That's her thing.
And I love her style in this book. It's very languid and unhurried, with ample amount of strangeness, action and tension. Her readers are kept guessing and waiting impatiently to get back to reading.

Andromeda

One of the most impressive things I've seen of late.
Unbelievably magnificent and tiny, and faraway, and delicate, and so very... I've no words.
Original is here.

Question of the Day – Myth or Reality?

Several weeks ago I had this discussion with a colleague of mine. It was about myths and legends about vampires all over the world. It seems there really is little in common among different nations’ perceptions as to what vampires represent. Clearly, they are more than human. In many cases, they drink human blood to keep going. In many cases, they are supernaturally strong. Sometimes, they are shape-shifters.
In most cases, they are plain mean and/or evil. They are often considered a threat that is strongly recommended to eliminate upon sighting; and as often the extermination is very hard to obtain. They are mostly night-walkers. Sometimes, they fear holy artefacts and/or direct sunlight. Mostly, they are a menace unleashed upon poor, unsuspecting society.
Verdict: vampires = horrible, terrible, no good at all.

Also, they do exist in myths all over the world. Question is – why? What misconception has made this particular myth so very popular? We don’t really believe in vampires, do we? People before us, they did. They also believed in leprechauns, faeries, elves, gnomes, trolls, dragons and a whole file cabinet of other creatures. And they thought the world is held by three whales. We believe in gene engineering, space exploration, nuclear physics and internet. To each their own, apparently.
Still, the question remains. Were all these things just a myth, a way to explain the world around our ancestors without a sufficient amount of scientific facts? Were these creatures created in their minds as a way around otherwise unexplainable phenomena? Or perhaps what they saw is what we get, and the whole lot of magical beings just went underground when people started breeding like rabbits and pollute the Earth. Who knows? I most certainly don’t. It’s better to leave this one open to possibilities.

In the meantime, I continue my quest with vamp novels. It was hard not to notice that in most cases vampires in contemporary prose are described as something dangerous but also unavoidably alluring. They are deadly, dangerous but, oh, so sexy. And the heroine always has a love affair with one or more of the ‘dark ones’.
Somehow, they’ve acquired reputation of something desired. If you can win the love of a vamp you are undoubtedly cool, and the world is at your feet. It is the ultimate prize.
Perhaps we have too little danger in our protected, safe lives of civilized people. Thing is, what if these glorified, drop-dead gorgeous monsters suddenly turn out to be all too real? Modern culture has rendered us incautious, unaware to them. Unprotected. Easy prey. I’m not saying anything, I’m not even assuming. It just provokes some thinking.

Question of the Day – Who are Your Ancestors?

I’m back from my wonderful vocation.

It was good. Real good. I did almost all of the things I’d planned, and some I even hadn’t. I got my long walks in the forest, enough sleep, parties, visits to and from friends, self-pampering sessions in beauty parlours, gatherings with family, a day long movie marathon, shopping, shopping and more shopping… what else can a girl wish for? I also went to the Zoo. I feel happy and well-rested now, ready to take on the world.

Curiously, at one point I caught myself actually missing work. I hastily planned some more fun to avoid this unnatural feeling, all ended well.

My family and I went to Northern Poland for the first few days of May. We went by car, and I had the spacious backseat of minivan all to myself. I could sleep and read when I got tired of sight-seeing. Very comfy.

We saw many beautiful places and towns, and stayed in surprisingly fine road-side motels. Food was good, and cheep, and a-plenty. Although, Polish beer sucks even more than Czech beer.

I really do not understand why people say there’s nothing to see in Poland. Seemed beautiful to me. Bright yellow dandelion and canola fields, blooming apple-trees, blue sky, churches in every town worth its salt, Catholic shrines in every village worth its name, winding roads framed by pretty oaks, maples, ash-trees. Deep, clean forests, surprisingly blue lakes, city parks with well-kept flowerbeds and trees, and strange cemeteries with no trees at all.

(Cemeteries here in Latvia are always, always full of all kinds of green: evergreens and seasonal plants, and flowers, and whatnot. We carefully make sure it is so by planting, weeding, fertilizing and trimming every year. Our graveyards look more like parks, really.

So, whenever I leave the country, I’m always a bit surprised it’s not like that everywhere. A graveyard with depressing amount of black marble tombstones enclosed within iron fence in the middle of a flat field confuses me.

I guess we, Latvians, are taking our dead more seriously then strictly necessary. We like to know that they are in a decorative place where we can keep taking care of them and bring to them flowers thus maintaining their place in the family tree and memory. We don’t forget for several generations.

(Please, note that the following is highly hypothetical version created by my over-imaginative brain, and has no considerable factual reference)

I guess it has to do with the ancient cult of ancestors when our people considered themselves part of the clan with all members included - present, past and future. Person’s position in life was inter-woven in the greater pattern, and could be better retained if touch with generations past wasn’t lost. Ancestors received their due respect, and got gifts and sacrifices brought to their graves. Coincidentally, ‘flower’ (zieds) has another meaning in Latvian - ‘sacrifice’ -, hence all the greenery in cemeteries.

I guess we were pacific if a bit vain nation even back then, and didn’t want to sully our graveyards with actual sacrificial animal blood. That would be messy and not in style at all.

On the other hand, they also swore and/or gave promises by their name, holding drawn swords and standing on their shields. Literally.

If a man happened to break his word given in this manner, the judgement was swift and severe. His sword got broken in half, his right arm cut off (yes, really), and his name was taken from him, consequently making him persona non grata, an outsider of the great pattern of life-cycle. No place in the world was home for poor sod any longer.

Essentially, betrayal of a given word resulted in loss of status as a person, and one could be treated as such – killed with no penalties, taken as a slave, baited with dogs, and perhaps much worse. The moral – if you can’t keep your word, you don’t deserve to have one. Quite simple.

In a roundabout way, it indicates that my ancestors were quite pro-environment oriented. They also lacked such tolerance when one of their own dared to mess with governing rules of world and nature they were given by gods to uphold and honour.

I hope it makes some sense if anyone’s actually reading this. But I digress.)

Anyway, pictures from my trip are here.

Poland

Now, back to work for me. More later.

Question of the Day - Are Pets Really Toys?

They offered me to take in a cat yesterday. I don’t think I can, yet. It doesn’t feel right.

The poor soul needs a home but I still have the presence of Cat lurking in the corners of mine. I keep seeing her. Until she’s there, I’m not ready for a new companion. It’s way too soon.

This cat – it’s a year old Persian boy - was given up by his family. And his tale made me boil with anger.

Children, there’s three of them, wanted a pet. Parents got them a cat. I could just bet there was some serious whining and persuasion before parents agreed to buy such an expensive pedigree cat.

A year later, kids change their minds and suddenly don’t want to take care of the cat anymore. Too much trouble, you see. Toys are not supposed to be trouble. Persians require grooming, special care and whatnot.

And what do parents do? They give him up. Worse, the mother brought the cat to her work and asked people if someone wanted him. She doesn’t even intend to take him back home anymore.

These parents do not talk to the kids about responsibility, they don’t do any parenting job, and they don’t even consider taking care of the cat by themselves. They just get rid of a pest that previously much desired pet has turned into.

People, please! Whatever happened to the elemental morals? Pets cannot take care of themselves. We are the ones who domesticated them and, therefore, are responsible for them! Yes, I understand that everybody has to work for living but taking care of a cat is not so time-consuming! A half an hour a day would do. Even less on really busy days. I know. I had a cat just last week.

The habitual cruelty and inconsideration people so often show towards animals is unbelievable. Animals might not be able to talk but they do feel things. They understand things. And they hurt. They are not pieces of furniture you can throw out if you don’t like the colour scheme anymore. Yes, there really was a story like that behind a cat given away to the animal shelter in Riga. She hadn't matched the new colour scheme after re-decoration, and the proud owners threw her out. Such attitude disgusts me.

Thankfully, I’m absolutely sure this Persian will find a new home in no time. He’s a well-behaved pedigree cat with all the papers, and there are a lot of people who find it desirable. He’ll be snatched up in a minute. Or at least I really, really hope so. If not… we’ll see.

I’m one of those strange people who consider pets their friends. And somehow I have a feeling he or she will come when the time’s right. It’s what usually happens in my life. Things just happen when the time is right. That’s what Cat did, after all. She just showed up one day, and moved in with me.

I keep thinking about that little corner where I buried her. A nice, sunny spot on the fringe of a forest, clearly visible from my friend’s house. Among pine-trees and under hyacinths, violets and sun-flowers. Yes, I did plant flowers for her, I’m melodramatic like that. And previously mentioned friend (who owns the house and, along with two more friends, helped me bury Cat) made us throw three handfuls of sand in her little grave. It’s a tradition performed in Latvian funerals. So there. I’m not the only one sentimental.

Other news - I'm starting to smile again.

Philisophical stuff

So I had this discussion with a friend of mine. We talked life, death, ways of living. Tough stuff like that. What we want to do with our lives. What we dream of. What we know. What we should learn. Where to go, which road to take. Yeah, I thought it was a bit much, myself.

Anyway.

She has all the motivation for just about every task thrown at her. Whatever it would be – from self-teaching English to dance lessons to biology – name it, and she’ll figure out a way to motivate herself and do it with all her heart and determination. She will conquer and win. It’s just the way she is.

Thing is, she does all those things, but has no idea how they work in the greater picture, how they connect with the ultimate goals or, say, missions of her life. She even doesn‘t know what are her ultimate goals in life yet. She just goes with the flow and picks up everything on her way until she stumbles on the big answer. If she ever does. One can hope. Meanwhile, she relishes in action and rapid movement around her that she stirs.

I, on the other hand, with every passing day gain more sureness regarding my goal in life, my reason for living this life here and know. Doesn’t matter what it is; I know it, and that’s enough. Sadly, since that goal is quite sedated and does not require world domination as the result, I often go lazy. I have no hurry whatsoever. I know where I go and what I need to do. It’s a peaceful existence. Downside: it does not require additional small goals along the way. I can do my big thing, and stuff like learning snowboard or hitchhiking to Spain sorta gets forgotten. I don’t have to invent goals for I have it already. The rest I choose and do because it brings me pleasure. I learned English and studied history because it was fun and I enjoyed it. I experiment with cooking because it excites me, not to broaden my horizon and conquer new mark of development. There’s a difference.

And then I think – am I making it up? Am I fooling myself? Have I simplified my existence by inventing an ultimate goal that serves as a buffer between me and the real life? What if real life actually means just that – getting as many little things done the best you can? Am I unconsciously trapping me in a cage of obscure grandeur to avoid the living? I might be, and it worries me quite a bit. No one is foolproof. And the main goal with sabbatical from real life as one of the key components does sound kinda shady. Maybe it’s just a stage and I’ll snap out of it. If I ever do. One can hope.

Meanwhile, we both have some things about ourselves quite clear. And some we totally don’t have. And they are not matching but complimenting the other perfectly. If we were merged into one person, this human would be in total clarity as what to do next and why. This person would be happy and complete, and determinate, unstoppable force.

In reality, we both just sorta float along the way and pass our time the best we can. For better or worse. We often are confused, and not sure about ourselves. We concluded on the note that we will find out if we did right or not eventually. If not in this life, then after it ends; when the soul leaves this plain and – in theory – regains all memories and experiences of lives spent. I wish us luck.

P.S. It's my Mother's birthday today. Happy Birthday, Mom!