The sequel to the very fabulous The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making, by Catherynne M. Valente! If you've read the first book, you'll undoubtedly be as excited about this as I am. If you haven't — - well, why on earth not? Granted, it's sort of theoretically a kids' book, but it's the sort that's equally enjoyable by adults, and some parts of it perhaps more so. To give you a slight sense of the flavour, a couple of quotes:
“September read often, and liked it best when words did not pretend to be simple, but put on their full armor and rode out with colors flying.”
“Stories have a way of changing faces. They are unruly things, undisciplined, given to delinquency and the throwing of erasers. This is why we must close them up into thick, solid books, so they cannot get out and cause trouble.”
“I wouldn't even consider it if I were you. But then if I were you, I would not be me, and if I were not me, I would not be able to advise you, and if I were unable to advise you, you'd do as you like, so you might as well do as you like and have done with it.”
Those are from the first book, not the new one, because I haven't read the new one yet (what with it only just having been released and all). But I've never yet been disappointed in any book of hers, so I have confidence this one will be just as awesome as the first!
Today's discovery: the best way to pass the time on a long bus ride with a small child, or possibly even without one for that matter, is to come up with entertaining story snippets for each stop they announce. Examples from this evening's ride on the Don Mills bus, all the way from Danforth up to Fairview Mall (to get the Lynxcub the belated main part of his birthday present at the Lego store):
[announcement: Overlea Boulevard]
Me: Overlea is a hidden land, up in the tops of trees in Withrow Park, populated by little tree spirits so small they can fit an entire city in the branches of one tree, and the people passing by below have no idea what's going on up above their heads.
They remind me a little bit of the text-collage poems I used to do when I was in university, but (like most creative pursuits) haven't done as much since then. But in a cool artistic jewelry form. She takes bits from old fairy tale books and assembles them into little mini-poems on ceramic pendants. WANT.
I took the Lynxcub to visit my father and stepmother earlier today - he always likes going to see them and apparently was announcing the impending visit over and over before I picked him up, to kettunainen and optimystik and even random strangers on the subway.
A good time was had by all, but particularly noteworthy were an entertaining incident I've put behind a cut below, and a tale he spun while we waited for the Ossington bus on the way back. The following is condensed from a long and rambling conversation:
Apparently, he plans to "break the road" (as in the little roadway where the buses pull in to Ossington subway station) so that he can build a house there. A big, tall house, with a bear painted on it (we had earlier seen a bear mural on the wall of a building the subway passed while it was above ground), in which the Three Bears would live. But it had to be a very special, strong house, so that Goldilocks wouldn't knock it down, because if any of the walls were delicate (yes, his word), she would kick them down.
I think it was at this point that I asked if Goldilocks had superpowers, and he looked thoughtful for a moment and then replied "yes!" enthusiastically, in a because-that-explains-EVERYTHING tone of voice.
However, Goldilocks is apparently not entirely hostile to the bears, because she's also going to stomp a big hole in the road next to the house for them, so that they can build a garage. In the garage, the bears will keep snow shovels, and also garden tweezers, which he attempted to demonstrate by stretching out his arms with his hands curved in slightly, and moving them in a scissor-like motion, like his entire arms were a huge pair of tweezers. The purpose of these, he solemnly informed me, was to tweeze the plants.
But when he recounted it late to Kettu, he said they were snow tweezers instead. For tweezing snow, one must suppose.
He also assured me that we didn't have to worry about Goldilocks coming along and breaking the bench we were sitting on, because he had built it especially strongly out of bricks and wood.
I strongly suspect he was mixing up the Three Bears story with the Three Little Pigs, and thus casting Goldilocks in the role of the big bad wolf. I kept waiting to hear that she was going to huff and puff and blow their house down, but apparently she's all about the kicking and stomping and breaking stuff.
excited
amused