I'll sing my hands out of the earth and call them to me
A copy of Mythic Delirium #20 has just arrived at the house. Technically it belongs to my mother, since the subscribers' copies went out before the contributors'. Nevertheless, I am going to steal it and read it, trout hearts by Neil Gaiman, hand-inked illustration, epic table of contents and all. My poem "Zeitgeber" is in there, too. I've been in sixteen issues of Mythic Delirium. I owe hekatombs to
time_shark: not for taking the poems, but for providing somewhere so neat for them to go, all the roots and freewheeling the title implies. Here's to the next ten years.
"Madonna of the Cave" has been accepted by
ericmarin for Lone Star Stories. It is sort of the poem about golems
handful_ofdust prompted me to write, sort of pieces of other things, like Lilith. (Speaking of whom, both
erzebet and
tithenai inform me that the miniature book of "Postscripts from the Red Sea" will very soon be available. I have even seen photographic evidence. Watch this, er, parenthesis.)
J.G. Ballard. His memory for the strangest of blessings.
"Madonna of the Cave" has been accepted by
J.G. Ballard. His memory for the strangest of blessings.

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J.G. Ballard. His memory for the strangest of blessings.
That says it nicely, I think. Amen.
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Thank you! It's an excellent issue of Mythic Delirium.
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I can't wait to see the miniature book. I will watch those parentheses.
Neil Gaiman's poem is good too, and coincidentally, last night I finally saw Mirror Mask, which I was curious about after reading your review. Visually quite a feast--I loved the sphynxes and the heroine's absolutely non-riddle riddles.
Lots of other good things in the Mythic Delirium issue as well--very satisfying.
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Thank you! I'm glad it can be gone back to.
I can't wait to see the miniature book. I will watch those parentheses.
I shall keep you posted.
Visually quite a feast--I loved the sphynxes and the heroine's absolutely non-riddle riddles.
And Valentine's:
"Look—an idiot!"
"Where?"
Did you like it as a story, or just a collection of a world?
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As a story, it seemed a bit thin to me, though I very much appreciated the overlapping worlds. I think it would have seemed richer to me in book form--in fact, I think I'd like to read it in book form. But even in book form, the theme, "child who is angry at parents for their life" is a drag for me, and this was true even before I got on this side of the parent-child equation. This is assuming the kid's lot is basically okay and all that's going on--basically--it adolescence. If the parents are brutes, that's another matter, though then I tend not to like it because I don't like stories about overcoming brutish parents. I guess, in general, stories where the conflict revolves in some wise around the parent are a hard sell with me. I realize they're big successes with most people, though.
Ones where the protagonist's life is basically okay but they want it to be different just make we want to dope slap the protag. I'd prefer it if they just wanted to go out and find their fortune (cheerfully)--that's fine! That's something I wanted to do as a kid, and it's something I don't take umbrage at as a parent. But "Man my parents are such JERKS and I hate this LIFE" is not something I fall into sympathy with.
I also didn't care for the possible "only a dream" interpretation of events. I loved that the connection between the other world and ours was Helena's drawings and that her drawing on the porch, overlooked by Dark Helena, is the key to returning. But the notion that the drama might all be internal to Helena--just a psychological drama--I didn't like. For some people, I guess the possibility of being able to interpret it psychologically makes the story all the more real and all the stronger: Helena is battling her own internal demons, is able to set her mind to rights, and then, coincidentally and fortunately, her mother gets better. I think I'm the opposite, though. I don't like the other world reduced to a mere psychological tool. I want it to be unambiguously real, and have psychological explanations, if they have to be offered, be ones for people who can't deal with the reality of the other world.
The interaction between Helena and Valentine was great, and Valentine's independent actions (which do go against the all-just-a-dream element) were great. Although. The other world is thin on details as a world in its own right, such that I found myself wondering where and how Valentine was supposed to use those jewels. Where are the markets? Where are other people? (The other world is thin on residents who are not key players in Helena's psyche.) And doesn't the very strength of the Dark Queen render a normal, jewel-enhanced life a meaningless reward? (What with crumbling people and things to nothingness and all?)
But my complaints are more complainy than I actually feel. The visuals of it were beautiful and enough for me to forgive a lot, and the characters were appealing enough that I do want to read the book (if there's a book? I just assume there's one) despite my reservations about the anti-parent motif. Especially Valentine :-)
Hope my negative remarks don't get you down. I liked it in spite of all that, truly. If I were telling you this in person, with more give and take, I think it would come through more clearly...
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I don't think we're meant to. It's very clear that Morris and Joanne Campbell are good parents—the issue is not whether they are going to change, but whether Helena is going to be able to work through her images of them.
I don't like the other world reduced to a mere psychological tool. I want it to be unambiguously real, and have psychological explanations, if they have to be offered, be ones for people who can't deal with the reality of the other world.
I interpreted it as real—it may have been created by Helena's drawings, but by now it has its own independent existence. Valentine has to come from somewhere.
Hope my negative remarks don't get you down.
Why? It's a movie I like; it's not one I wrote!
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When I like something, I want others to like it in the same way--or certain others, at least. I'm not sure I'd fall into that "certain others" category for you, but you do, for me, for some things: If I were to tell you about something I liked that I thought you'd like, I'd be somewhat downcast if you didn't like it, though how downcast I'd be would depend on what you didn't like.
That reaction is an artifact of childhood, I suspect. In general, now, if I stop and think about it, I can curb it--after all, other people aren't clones of me, etc. etc. But I still have enough of that residual feeling to want, when I like someone, to react to something they like in a way that's similar to how they react.
I'm long winded today.
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Of course I would like you to like something I recommended to you. But I am not going to be offended on its behalf if you don't.
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From Ballard's obit
Suddenly Ballard has just gone up a few notches in my estimation of him.
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Glad to have helped . . .