Stop

I stopped thinking sometime last year
I stopped my hopes, my joys, my cheer
I stopped dreaming and gave up hope
I stopped striving and now only cope
I stopped it all, the growth, the living of life
I stopped the battle, the trying, the strife
Stopped it, Halted, Ceased to be
This is my path, Land of the free
I stopped it,
And it stopped me.

Suppose

Once in a while I am beset by mood and craving to have someone unto whom I can spill the entirety of my thoughts unfettered by the fear of repercussion. But in my pondering I am hampered by the dire reality that few are the possibilities of such an exposition. Not even the anonymity of the internet is a grace to such a situation as it is not the real you that is shown, but an immortal amoral self forever flaunting itself into the minds of those who are unfortunate enough to encounter it.

Suppose that I were to write that when I drive, I visualize increasing the speed of the vehicle and ramming my moving death trap into the barrier of a brick wall, the dark cloudy depths of a creek, or the immobile embrace of a tree. Suppose I wrote that oft times when I am new a person I visualize kissing them or killing them. Suppose I wrote that when I were in the kitchen each knife brings to mind the image of blood on my wrists, up my arm. Suppose I wrote of the scenarios lovingly crafted in my mind of wrapping a belt round my throat then slowly giving into the strident prickly embrace of asphyxia.Or suppose I wrote of the curious longing that threatens when I see a gun and the sensory fear of placing it appropriately for use.

Suppose further that I wrote of the dark moods and ease of anger that sporadically besets me. Or of the lethargy that consumes, a moment at a time, the joys of life.

Suppose further that I confessed to having no goals or aspirations in life beyond that of being a father and husband. Or of the dreams that settle in my mind like a gauze of reality. Or of the nightmares that reek of normalcy among the exotic and frightful.

Suppose, just suppose, as by now many suppose I just have, that I wrote all this. Forever and always anyone encountering it would offer condolences or sympathies, perhaps offer expressions like "been there" or "I feel the same", but worst is that the image of me would be sullied; not just now, but whenever this was encountered. Or if the person proved untrustworthy, then these private confidences would find themselves broadcast beyond my control.

So you see my dilemma.

Review: Hogfather

Title: Hogfather
Author: Terry Pratchett
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
ISBN: 978- 0-06-105905-6

Yet again we venture into the Diskworld. In the dead of winter a nefarious plot is hatched to do away with a figure of some prominence.  Meanwhile, Susan - Death's granddaughter - is busily protecting her wards from boogiemen, when a sense of remembering the future hits her. Soon a struggling Tooth Fairy is kidnapped, imps and impossible anthropomorphic personifications are popping into existence, and Death himself is posing as the Hogfather (a version of Santa Claus). Susan must find out why? Where is the Hogfather? And who is behind his disappearance? Humor abounds in this tale. In the end, Susan learns the necessity of the magic and little lies of childhood and the Hogfather.

Terry Pratchett's Death is by and far my favorite character in his books and by association Susan is no slouch either. The story is well told with excellent "flawed" mirroring of our world - ie: the Hogfather in place of Santa Claus - adding a great element of humor. Terry uses sound theories and explanations - well as much as possible in a story including magic and fantasy elements - to prop up and give depth to the story.  By and far, the reading of a few pages quickly shows how this particular story gained in popularity to the point it was made into a movie by BBC. One which I take pleasure in watching every Christmas Season and have managed to use to gain converts to the works of Terry Prachett.

Additionally, Prachett uses footnotes to add humorous asides to the main story. They aren't necessary to the story, but reading them adds an extra depth that would be sorely lacking should he desist in the practice. I highly recommend reading this story, or at least slacking of for an evening of watching the BBC movie.

Review: The Wee Free Men

Title: The Wee Free Men
Author: Terry Pratchett
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
ISBN: 978- 0-06-001238-0

In the infamous, fun, and odd world of the Diskworld young Tiffany Aching is coming of age. She sees the world differently than most, some would say that she sees what is really there, and that makes her special.  She decides to be a witch. And shortly after receiving a warning from a visiting witch that trouble was coming, and that Tiffany should hide until it is all sorted, Tiffany’s brother is taken. Tiffany is bound and determined to get him back. Along the way she meets, befriends, and winds up leading the Wee Free Men – elfin creatures, six inches tall, who are ferocious fighters and thieves – and they assist her in her efforts to free her brother.

I will confess a bias for the works of Terry Pratchett that is certainly reflected here, but not overly so. The book is targeted for young adults, but nevertheless is fun for the older reader.  While Tiffany’s actions and thoughts don’t scream “child”, this is easily forgiven as from the start it is made clear that she is not normal in any sense. Her animosity for her younger sibling (sibling rivalry) and determination to protect what’s hers rings true. The Wee Free Men provide vital exposition and comic relief. – After all what do you expect from creatures, who after survive a tidal wave are only concerned with how many sharks they head butted or on whom they’ll pawn their fool’s gold? – The pace is suitably fast and the story clear and concise. In truth it was a pleasure to read. 

However, I feel that the story was made the more pleasurable from having first read the other novels about  Diskworld. This is not necessary as no references are made that are not explained. But an overall feel of the world contributes a certain something.

Review: A Taste For Rabbit

Title: A Taste For Rabbit
Author: Linda Suckerman
Publisher: Arthur A. Levine Books
ISBN: 978- 0-439-86977-5

In a world without humans, animals have evolved to fill the sentient niche.  Not all animals are sentient, those that are are predators. The foxes face a sever famine and starvation as winter causes their food supply to dwindle. Meanwhile, and not too distant, but inaccessible, rabbits have achieved society unbeknownst to anyone and unknowing of any other society.

Harry Fox is employed by his brother a dirty politician to gain access to the rabbits rumored to live on the inaccessible plateau. Harboring dreams of showing his brother up or even better shaming him, Harry goes on his hunting trip. He encounters a con-artist and is out maneuvered into delays and misdirection.

Meanwhile Quentin, a rabbit, runs afoul of the military during a trying time in the rabbit colony. Rabbit families are vanishing and the politicians and military are creating a police state with the blessing of the populous in the name of safety. Quentin and his friends decide to escape the compound, dodging the draft, and join the rebels. Quentin gets separated from his friends after the escape and learns the terrible truth of the vanishing rabbits.

Harry and Quentin encounter each other and from each other’s influence learn the truth of their metal and that necessity breeds heroes, honor comes from within, and a wider worldview.

On the whole, the story was well told with the two intertwining storylines meshing well. However, the Harry Fox storyline was distracting as Harry was consistently beset with daydreams and flashbacks that did not separate from reality but blended so that the reader had to pay close attention or risk getting lost (The Quentin storyline has but one flashback.). The story was a fun, if disturbing romp – Spoiler: The rabbits are being kidnapped by some of the military, killed, and sold as food to a few of the well off foxes on the black market. And as the story is an exploration of humanity, this equates to cannibalism. – end too leaves the reader hopeful, nigh on demanding, for a sequel. This is because the story leaves one major thread flapping in the wind – though this can be called life – and the characters speaking of their future possibilities and desires in the final pages.

I would cautiously recommend this read. The reader should be aware that the story is more intellectual than a driving page-turner; in essence test the waters before buying.