Dec 16 2014

Thoughts on The Arabian Nights, Vol. 3

Arabian NightsI have officially finished all three volumes of The Arabian Nights, a 2,715 page journey!

Volume 3 comprises nights 719 to 1001, as well as the “Aladdin, or the Magic Lamp” standalone story. This third volume has proven to be my favorite, as there is less repetition (same kind of story followed by same kind of story) than in the previous books and some stories that begin on well trodden themes actually branch of in surprising directions. Adventures, romances, and comedy tales mix together with morality tales in a broad spectrum of stories, many of which I found rather fun and interesting.

Shahrazad’s Tale Comes to an End

As I mentioned, in my review of volume 2, we can see Shahrazad’s story and dramatic progression through the tales she tells, guiding King Shahriyar to a different perspective on women. By volume 3, I get the sense that Shahrazad has relaxed, which allows her to explore a greater variety of tales. She probably senses him coming around and so can use the tales more as entertainment than for moral and philosophical lessons.

Continue reading


Dec 15 2014

“Plans are only good intentions unless they immediately degenerate into hard work.”

~ Peter Drucker

My plans and good intentions would have seen me continually working on the Novel in Poems I started in November. While procrastination has certain reared its multitude of heads, I did sit down to get to work a couple of times, only to sit at the screen feeling stymied. This is something that happens often for me as I get into the middles of longer works, when I get lost in the woods of where it could go and start feeling unsure of which way to turn.

As I usually do in such situations, I tried to make my through by setting down ideas of where I want to go, drafting out a kind of a rough outline for the rest of the story. It’s like pulling out a map, figuring out where I’m at and planning out which trails I want to head for. This process usually helps guide me forward. At the very least, I feel good about having put something down on the page.

Coming back to the Novel in Poems, however, I still couldn’t find my way back into the story, which calls for another stratagem. Sometimes moving away from the computer and working on good old-fashioned pen and paper helps to kick start the mind in a different direction. The idea is that I’ll print out existing pages and start reworking them, while jotting down ideas for future chapters. At least that’s what I’m hoping.

The only flaw in this plan is that I don’t have a printer at home — an entirely silly thing not to have as a writer, I agree. Thus, I’m going to go ahead and buy myself a new printer as a personal Christmas present this year.

Speaking of awesome presents for writers. My fantastic friend and roommate bought me StoryBox novel writing software for Christmas. I don’t know much about it, but I’m excited to try it out and see how the outlining aspects of the program works. If anyone has used this before, I would love to hear your thoughts.


Dec 12 2014

Book Review: Who Fears Death by Nnedi Okorafor

Book description (from Goodreads):

“In a far future, post-nuclear-holocaust Africa, genocide plagues one region. The aggressors, the Nuru, have decided to follow the Great Book and exterminate the Okeke. But when the only surviving member of a slain Okeke village is brutally raped, she manages to escape, wandering farther into the desert. She gives birth to a baby girl with hair and skin the color of sand and instinctively knows that her daughter is different. She names her daughter Onyesonwu, which means “Who Fears Death?” in an ancient African tongue.

Reared under the tutelage of a mysterious and traditional shaman, Onyesonwu discovers her magical destiny-to end the genocide of her people. The journey to fulfill her destiny will force her to grapple with nature, tradition, history, true love, the spiritual mysteries of her culture-and eventually death itself.”

I loved many things about this book, fantastic post-apocalyptic worldbuilding, fascinating characters, and a captivating storyline, full of complexity. The writing is clean, giving Onyesonwu a clear voice as she narrates her life story.

Onyesonwu is a wonderfully interesting character, full of both anger and compassion, able to strike out and provide healing, desiring revenge and yet not wanting to engage in the violence she sees around her. Likewise, her companions and teachers (there are many) are complicated too, with a variety of motivations and assumptions based on traditions or superstitions.

The story includes descriptions of rape, genocide, female circumcision, stoning, child soldiers, and other real-world violence that is horrifying (and sometimes hard to read), and yet handled with honesty, precision, and care. In the face of all this horror, the story could have easily turned into a downer, but hope, love, and friendship are weaved into the story as well. The story is powerful, deeply resonant, and one to think about long after having put it down. An amazing work of art.

I will definitely be reading more by Nnedi Okorafor.


Dec 10 2014

Here Comes the Rain

A few drops of rain spattered my face as I stepped out of the office today — the beginning of the great storm to come tomorrow. The night is calm, cool. You wouldn’t believe a massive storm system was about to roll in.

The news has been spouting about “storm watch 2014,” because tomorrow’s storm is supposed to be the biggest deluge since 2008, with heavy rain fall and strong winds. There could be power outages, fallen trees, and flash floods. There could be thunder and lightening (a rare occurrence).

As I wrote on Friday in honor of recent rains, mild in comparison to what is coming. My feelings are torn in regards to the storm. I love storms, love cuddling up safe inside and warm and watching lightening flash through the downpour. But I’m a little wary of commuting to work, as I’ll be heading home (very slowly) during what is supposed to be a peak of the storm.

All will be well, though, I’m sure. And I hope everyone stays safe on the roads tomorrow.


Dec 5 2014

Five Thoughts about Rain

Fog at the Farmhouse

1.

The rain has come at last. The parched, drought ridden earth is slippery with heavy rainfall, stirring up mud and sludge. Every morning this week, I have awoke in the dark to the sound water splattering outside my window. I step outside my front door and listen to the thrumming rhythms on my umbrella and feel happy.

2.

When I was a little girl I used to run out into the rain in shorts and a tank top. I rode bicycles over the slick streets. I kicked puddles. I jumped in the mud. Gutters would gush water and I would stand under them as though I were a tourist under a waterfall in Hawaii. The water would soak through my clothes and drip down my hair. My shoes sloshed. I never shivered. I never shook. I danced in the rain and felt clean and free.

3.

My niece has turned two and has evolved into a delightful princess monster (and all that that implies). We have to convince her to wear a coat in the rain (she wishes to escape wearing only a frilly dress). After the rain, she prances out to the driveway to stomp in puddles, little insignificant ones, with a smile like the first beam of sunlight through the clouds.

Later I tromp through the mud, following my niece to the tree swings. I pull her onto my lap and we swing together, while large drops fall on us from the tree above. We twist back and forth, the word rocking to and fro, just sitting together enjoying the quiet day as we watch the post-rain fog gather around the farmhouse.

4.

Driving in California is the only thing I hate about the rainy season. Otherwise knowledgeable people forget how to drive as soon as the roads grow wet. It can take a week or more for them to grow used to it and for the level of car accidents to lessen, and by then the rains have gone.

5.

I could live some place where the rain was rampant through many seasons. Seattle, maybe. Or perhaps a rain forest. The sound and rhythms of water emptied from the sky has always soothed me, and I find myself longing for rain after months and months of sun and heat.

Then again, maybe it’s the contrast, the absences of rain followed by its sudden heavy presence that confers the joy.