Hope is something the living do. It's too silly an occupation for the dead

[sovay]

I am afraid this post is not about Readercon, either. Except for a brain-saving walk to the Cambridge Public Library this afternoon, I have spent the day basically glued to my computer, catching up on work. It has been immensely unexciting. There were some highlights.

1. On my way back from the library, I met a traveling rabbit. She was nosing around a portable pen on the lawn in front of the library in company of a young black woman with glasses who was reading Lawrence Ferlinghetti's A Coney Island of the Mind (1958) under a tree; her fur was white, her eyes were red, and her name was Grace Hopper. She left the pen to investigate the tree, she sniffed at the library books and left them, she inspected the hand I held out to her as I would with a strange cat and promptly took refuge in the modified snugli in which it turned out she often left the house, carried by the young woman with the glasses. She emerged again a moment later and returned to nosing around the pen. I had never met an adventurous rabbit before, much less one who regularly made excursions to library lawns. The young woman explained that she used to harness Grace and walk her on a leash, but that limited the distance they could get from the house; with Grace in the snugli, they could range much farther and visit a wider array of interesting places. They were planning on Iceland later this summer. I think they'll do fine.

2. I just discovered that a fiddle tune I'd known for more than ten years as "Johnny the Blacksmith" is actually "Charlie the Prayermaster." Possibly because I have spent most of my day staring at repetitive tasks on a screen, I find this change of name and profession hilarious. It was one of the few tunes I knew by name, too—for some reason which I suspect has to do with the absence of lyrics, I learn instrumental melodies easily enough, but almost never remember what they're called. (This drove me up a wall while watching Green Dolphin Street (1947), because a tune I recognized was played diegetically in the background of a shipboard wedding and I had no idea of its name, I just knew I had to own a copy because otherwise I wouldn't have memorized it. I spent a lot of iTunes time afterward with Dave Swarbrick and Bill Spence. Appropriately enough, it turned out to be "Haste to the Wedding.") I had learned what I thought was "Johnny the Blacksmith" from the playing of Bill Spence with Fennig's All-Star String Band, but the file came from Audiography and it was mislabeled. I just didn't realize until tonight when I had it stuck in my head, wondered about other versions, and threw the name into YouTube to see what I could find. What I found was that "Johnny the Blacksmith" was invented by the legendary bluegrass fiddler Kenny Baker in 1957 and I'd never heard it before in my life. So I played my way through a truckload of jigs and reels and presently discovered that "Charlie the Prayermaster" dates back at least to the early twentieth century—it was collected by Francis O'Neill in The Dance Music of Ireland (1907)—and also goes by the names "The Girls of the Town" and the "Cowboy Jig." When I explained this situation to rushthatspeaks, they replied, "And any second now you'll find out he's also Robert the Politician."

3. I have now finished Barbara Hambly's Graveyard Dust (1999) and read my way forward through Wet Grave (2002), meaning that I am caught up chronologically on Benjamin January to Days of the Dead (2003), the object of my library walk this afternoon. (Also I had to return a recalled book before I was fined for it.) I may even have gotten gaudior hooked on the series. Possibly also my mother. It still surprises me somehow that I didn't encounter these books earlier: they are full of so many of the things that interest me, like intersectionality and characters who know their Catullus. Is this a case of a cult favorite or did I just manage with my usual fine attention to pop culture to miss something that everyone else on the planet has been reading for the last twenty years? I'm burning through them now and it's wonderful.

Comments

[klwilliams.livejournal.com]

The Benjamin January series is one of the few sets of books that my mother (English professor) and I both enjoy.

[sovay]

The Benjamin January series is one of the few sets of books that my mother (English professor) and I both enjoy.

I see no reason why not! I'm tremendously impressed with them so far. The weakest book has been merely solid; the best are amazing.

My mother is a long-time mystery reader, so that I got most of the series I went through over the years from her. I think this is the first I've been able to introduce her to.

[lillibet.livejournal.com]

Have I mentioned that when we were in New Orleans in 2004, I asked a guide a question and she said "You've been reading Barbara Hambly, haven't you?" I admitted that I had and she said "You ask any guide down here and they'll tell you they've talked to her--she talked to all of us. If you read something in her book, it's true, or as best as we can make out." I've subsequently been impressed that when she discovers new information that contradicts, or changes her thinking on a particular point, she will not only incorporate it, but add a note about it (like the note on the meaning of "Creole" at the end of Graveyard Dust.

(Tonight I'm re-reading Sold Down the River, which is the hardest of the original set for me, even knowing how it comes out.)

[sovay]

I admitted that I had and she said "You ask any guide down here and they'll tell you they've talked to her--she talked to all of us. If you read something in her book, it's true, or as best as we can make out."

You had not told me, and that's really impressive. I'm glad to hear it.

I've subsequently been impressed that when she discovers new information that contradicts, or changes her thinking on a particular point, she will not only incorporate it, but add a note about it (like the note on the meaning of "Creole" at the end of Graveyard Dust.

I could swear I had read a similar note from her about the legal availability of cadavers to medical students in Paris during the time of Benjamin's schooling, correcting previously written reminiscences about corpses and resurrectionists, but I can't find it in any of the books. Dammit. I can't see that being the kind of thing I would dream.

[wordsofastory.livejournal.com]

I could swear I had read a similar note from her about the legal availability of cadavers to medical students in Paris during the time of Benjamin's schooling, correcting previously written reminiscences about corpses and resurrectionists, but I can't find it in any of the books. Dammit. I can't see that being the kind of thing I would dream.

I remember that too! I'm fairly sure it was on her Facebook (or some other social media website) though, rather than in one of the books.

[sovay]

I'm fairly sure it was on her Facebook (or some other social media website) though, rather than in one of the books.

Facebook. Good call. Thanks!