#also i have no idea what discworld is i was just looking at my shelf and saw the book there but apparently its good

[galactic-academia]

There is a fury to Terry Pratchett’s writing: it’s the fury that was the engine that powered Discworld. It’s also the anger at the headmaster who would decide that six-year-old Terry Pratchett would never be smart enough for the 11-plus; anger at pompous critics, and at those who think serious is the opposite of funny; anger at his early American publishers who could not bring his books out successfully.

The anger is always there, an engine that drives. By the time Terry learned he had a rare, early onset form of Alzheimer’s, the targets of his fury changed: he was angry with his brain and his genetics and, more than these, furious at a country that would not permit him (or others in a similarly intolerable situation) to choose the manner and the time of their passing.

And that anger, it seems to me, is about Terry’s underlying sense of what is fair and what is not. It is that sense of fairness that underlies Terry’s work and his writing, and it’s what drove him from school to journalism to the press office of the SouthWestern Electricity Board to the position of being one of the best-loved and bestselling writers in the world.

It’s the same sense of fairness that means that, sometimes in the cracks, while writing about other things, he takes time to punctiliously acknowledge his influences – Alan Coren, for example, who pioneered so many of the techniques of short humour that Terry and I have filched over the years; or the glorious, overstuffed, heady thing that is Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase and Fable and its compiler, the Rev E Cobham Brewer, that most serendipitious of authors. Terry once wrote an introduction to Brewer’s and it made me smile – we would call each other up in delight whenever we discovered a book by Brewer we had not seen before (“’Ere!’ Have you already got a copy of Brewer’s A Dictionary of Miracles: Imitative, Realistic and Dogmatic?”)

Terry’s authorial voice is always Terry’s: genial, informed, sensible, drily amused. I suppose that, if you look quickly and are not paying attention, you might, perhaps, mistake it for jolly. But beneath any jollity there is a foundation of fury. Terry Pratchett is not one to go gentle into any night, good or otherwise.

He will rage, as he leaves, against so many things: stupidity, injustice, human foolishness and shortsightedness, not just the dying of the light. And, hand in hand with the anger, like an angel and a demon walking into the sunset, there is love: for human beings, in all our fallibility; for treasured objects; for stories; and ultimately and in all things, love for human dignity.

Or to put it another way, anger is the engine that drives him, but it is the greatness of spirit that deploys that anger on the side of the angels, or better yet for all of us, the orangutans.

Terry Pratchett is not a jolly old elf at all. Not even close. He’s so much more than that. As Terry walks into the darkness much too soon, I find myself raging too: at the injustice that deprives us of – what? Another 20 or 30 books? Another shelf-full of ideas and glorious phrases and old friends and new, of stories in which people do what they really do best, which is use their heads to get themselves out of the trouble they got into by not thinking? Another book or two of journalism and agitprop? But truly, the loss of these things does not anger me as it should. It saddens me, but I, who have seen some of them being built close-up, understand that any Terry Pratchett book is a small miracle, and we already have more than might be reasonable, and it does not behoove any of us to be greedy.

I rage at the imminent loss of my friend. And I think, “What would Terry do with this anger?” Then I pick up my pen, and I start to write.

Extracted from Neil Gaiman’s introduction to A Slip of the Keyboard: Collected Non-fiction by Terry Pratchett

[batz]

hc: bubby likes to just b calm sometimes and watch movies. they organize movie nights and make caramel popcorn for everyone. they also like to read joshua bedtime stories when they babysit him and are a father figure to Benrey :)

bubby reading bedtime stories to joshua is so cute tho... bubby doesnt want to read to joshua at first and is kinda awkward abt it (bc bubby thinks kids r kinda creepy LOL) but the book joshua wants him to read is like. idk discworld or smthn. and bubby is surprised bc this kid is 5 why is he into some weird (long as hell) fantasy novel series but is stoked 2 read it for him anyway!!! bubby does voices for each character (bc joshua says he Has To). bubby honestly probably used to be a DM he has the VIBES so hes probably gr8 at reading fantasy novels bc he just gets rly into them HFDKDJS

bubby is honestly kind of a homebody but bc hes Free From Black Mesa hes kinda all for Going Out And Doing Things. he can experience things he hasn't experienced before!!! but usually he just likes to stay at home. he likes puttin together lil movie nights n lil get togethers.. not as much as coomer like coomer goes ALL OUT w parties n holiday celebrationz but bubbys a lil more normal abt it DBSKJSSK

[gravelgirty]

Hi could you talk more about caves what you said on that post is really interesting

Sure thing!

First of all, it was an amazing cave I worked in. You never forget that. I'll pick one of my favorite topics,

the FALLOUT SHELTER AGGRAVATION TAX.

Clears throat.

Limestone caves are literally stone libraries in the geologic record of the world. Twice a year the airflow would change and then you'd smell smoke from decrepit old torches dating as far back as 1812. People made saltpeter in these caves, they were natural mines for things that went boom, and one of those 'requirements' meant airflow so you wouldn't suddenly and embarrassingly, drop dead of too much Underground. This is why the coal miners were eternally bemused and asking us questions like airflow. Sometimes you gotta canary. Sometimes you are the canary. This often led to predictable questions that was these old gents trying to be polite, but what they really wanted to know was,

'why the hell are you being paid $10 a trip plus tips to walk us 1.1 miles underground up to 3 times a day and no one has a mortgage gun aimed at your head?'

To which I would say, 'it wasn't quite that bad. If no one shows up at all we get paid $10.' ...Dear Saint Barbara, Chango, and the Gods of Deep Mystery, the things we tell ourselves. $10 a day. Crap. Thank goodness I had Granny's House, dad was paying the property tax, the water was on a well, and garbage was less that $20 a month. A shame we can't afford a TV, but hey, we can stay busy digging up that quarter-acre garden that will keep us fed plus the road kill Deer in the fall.

But the conditions that created saltpeter (I'll go into depth on that later if people are interested) also convinced some weird-ass people in Washington DC that caves were the perfect place to do a DR STRANGELOVE and people could go hide out in the caves, free of...well, nothing, really, because radiation = straight lines +caves, air, irradiated air and water, and everything goes down into the caves...

Look. It made people feel safe, ok? And it wasn't the worst decision the Pentagon ever made, considering they were telling the scientists working with HOT RADIOACTIVE MATTER to stay safe by sticking the stuff on a long pole so they wouldn't have to touch it.

Everybody knows about the bomb shelter President Kennedy was prepared to run to with his family in case of Cold War. It was in the Greenbrier Resort in White Sulphur Springs (I prefer to think of it as the HIDDEN FIGURES birthplace). FYI everybody who lived here knew where it was. There are only so many power stations one measly little resort that cries that it can't afford to pay for its own water bill can keep.

[insert sniffle boohoo sobbing of the pro-confederates who run that place and while I can't be there for you, try to imagine the joy I am stockpiling for the day when we have another traitorous uprising and this time, the resort doesn't get a GO PASS GO by dangerous romantics and is finally burned to the ground.]

Anyway, the important people like the President, his family, his Secret Service, his staff, cook, maid-in-waiting, bootblack and et al got to go bunker down in the luxurious bomb shelter at the resort, which probably wouldn't be very resort-y after a certain point of Castro going, 'fuck you, you whippersnapper Irish Dog' or Khrushchev throwing a little more than his shoe around. I'm not convinced it was that great of a place to hide, really. I mean...they have lightning rods on the trees over there, and believe it or not, cavers in that country have been hit by lightning while underground. Because. Lightning. If it can bake entire acres of potatoes in the field, two subterranean surveyors with metal measuring tape haven't got a prayer.

I want you to know that I can't at this point go into detail (space restrictions) on the importance of all these caves to Union Sympathizers, slaves on the Underground Railroad, and the Far-Righter MAGAS called Confederates. Trust me when I say, if you didn't know where these caves were, you had absolutely no right to know.

In Appalachia, limestone caves were listed on properties and handed down because of their value. Thomas Jefferson made a point of making sure there were lots of caves to provide nitre for the Gunpowder Committee. I don't know if landowners had to pay taxes for having saltpeter caves (probably), but when the Cold War came around, they definitely and cheerfully sold the access rights to the government because...it was the government. I am not in the least bit joking when I tell you there are people over there who are still pissed off over George Washington's Whiskey Rebellion.

If you really want to get into the psyche of Appalachians, go read up every scene Terry Pratchett ever wrote about Lancre in his Discworld books. Just give them more libraries and a LOT of coffee stations.

Oh, dear. I forgot all about the owling and the Prohibition.

Owling = the practice of moving your herds of cattle from one ridge to the next to avoid a higher payment when the taxman came a-calling.

Prohibition = The Second Oldest Profession.

These days, many of the Fallout Shelter caves are being used for...modern needs. Meth labs, if you're a sensationalist, but if you aren't, bear in mind that hiding out stolen cattle and horses still requires big places out in the middle of nowhere. But when Mr. Gov't Man came around and offered cash for the access rights to grand-daddy's old saltpetre cave? Goodness gracious, we know we aren't supposed to take people's money from them because that's a sin, but...taxes...you know how it is... (most of the mountain folk had no real quarrel with Kennedy despite his heathen dog Catholicism because it wasn't his fault he was brought up Catholic, but when it came to the government...well, it was the principle of the thing).

In short order papers were drawn, and shelters were built and good god, they were ugly. Clapboard shantytowns, I swear. They were stockpiles whacked together with off-brand plank and tenpenny nails for where the selected few could bunker up in the cozy, damp, dripping, chilly, dusty, sneezy, probably-warm-from-stray-radiation environs. I have no idea who the Pentagon hated enough that they would send them to these caves. They had a bottleneck opening for easy defense, yes, but there was no defense against puking yourself to death or accidentally taking off your own skin with your uniform at the end of your shift.

YOU THINK I"M KIDDING?? YOU THINK IT IS A COINCIDENCE THAT CLASSIC DR WHO SHOWS DALEK HISTORY IN AN OLD STONE QUARRY? WELCOME ABOARD!

A fallout shelter's stockpile generally consisted of

*High-quality medical equipment, even though some of that stuff had a shelf life of three minutes.

*Radio Equipment. Which was probably a real belly laugh to the folks running the NARO satellite dishes up in Green Bank, because families in the most rural portion of WV (Pocahontas County) spent their evenings parsing Latin and teaching the young lads and lasses the wonders of shortwave and how to rig up your own crystals in case you needed to jackleg your own.

*Food. God. Awful. Food. It was designed to keep you alive, but you can't say anything more charitable about it. Honestly, I'm surprised nobody tried to corner a government contract on dehydrated water.

*Water. Potable water for drinking, but, I should say, I couldn't find any means with which you could make a potable distillery. Or, how much of this potable water was going to be used to rehydrate the ghastly awfulness of the dehydrated food, or the canned goods that included stuff the military couldn't wait to forget. Go ask your grandparents how much canned horse Circa WWII they ate while they served, m'kay?

*Candy. High energy, easily digestible candy. Flavor optional, at the discretion of the same government that made the WWII Chocolate Bar.

*The containers themselves. Yep, they counted. They were heavy metal barrels and tough buckets or small drums, plus the amazingly dense metal and plastic containers for medical kits, candy, and misc. I'm not sure if they had a requirement other than impervious, waterproof, and on sale. In fact, the smaller drums/buckets were supposed to be lined with the plastic used to wrap the other goods, and convert into a toilet.

Cold War comes and goes. I'm sure what happened next is shocking:

1) medical supplies goes missing in the dead of night.

2) Electronics follows. That probably makes the electricians feel good, because...what good would they have done in the wet, dust-filled atmosphere of the caves?

3) Candy. Candy, did you say? I don't remember seeing any candy..?

4) The gradual disappearance of the food rations is mysteriously in proportion to camping trips multitasking with double-dog-dares. Who needs a frat pledge if Freckles here has never been introduced to the joys of Dehydrated Ketchup?

5) If you think the backyard blacksmiths are making forges with tire rims, do you think metal containers stand a chance?

This leaves the barrels of water, but who would want to drink that stuff? It's been sitting around for how long? Ew. And the boards for those shelters...cripes.

This inadvertently makes up a tiny little side bonus for the hard-working tour guide. Because these shelters are usually ridiculously close to the entrance of the tour caves. You have to take your tour group in stages, see, and once they finish gasping and wheezing their way through the first 300 steps, you have to take their minds off how miserable they are and pause at the shelter with your flashlight, and describe this little chapter of history. By this time the bats are hanging off the boards (your chance to remind them of the exorbitant federal fines for hurting these little mosquito-hunters), the occasional lost salamander, and the beginnings of the Dreaded Cave Cricket (ten minutes with these little monsters and you'll never think pink is an effete color ever again).

And the mold. There are patches of mold the guides have been watching for YEARS. Some of them have even bothered to look them up, because...tourists. They love to stump the guides and use it as an excuse for not tipping you because you haven't taken a Master's in The Encompassing Topic of Karst Everything and are clearly a dumbass, hah-hah I'll spend my money in the overpriced gift shop, peasant.

But no, folks. If you ask them one more damn time if they're sure all the candy and drugs are gone...we're too tired to take your bleeping bleep bleep tip anyway.

[bookdating]

2020 Reading Challenge

This year, out of pure boredom, I decided there are simply too many popular books I need to read, so I started designing a list for the new year. It contains 20 reading challenges based on authors I want to read more from, authors I want to discover, and some very specific books. I welcome everyone to try this challenge or express their opinion about the books I chose.

A V. E. Schwab book

I read A darker shade of magic and Vicious and I loved those, but I haven't had a piece of Victoria Schwab's wonderful writing for too long. So for this challenge I chose to read This savage song, followed by Our Dark Duet.

All Grishaverse

If you don't know what Grishaverse is, it's basically the sum of all books written by Leigh Bardugo in the Grisha world. To complete this challenge, I need to read Six of Crows with its sequel, Crooked Kingdom, and also King of Scars.

A Ruta Sepetys book

Last year I read Salt to the Sea, which was insanely good, short, and sad. I want more. For this, I chose Between shades of grey.

A Kristin Hannah book

Her books are everywhere. I've read Winter Garden this year and I have to say that Kristin Hannah knows what she's doing. The Nightingale is a must for me.

A Rainbow Rowell book

I've read Fangirl a long time ago. Pumpkinheads rekindled my love for this author, so I chose to read Eleanor & Park for this.

A Neil Gaiman book

I mean, what am I doing? Why didn't I read anything from him? I'm thinking of going for Neverwhere, but let me know if you have other ideas.

A Terry Pratchett book

The Discworld series fascinated me since I was in school, but I only know it from stories. It's time to get rid of the excuses and start The color of magic.

A middle grade series

I had so many options for this one. I seem to enjoy them a lot, so I wanted something good, but with a fair amount of books because I won't have time for a 10 book series. So I chose to start Aru Shah and the End of Time. It looks like the perfect fit for my reading disires.

A Patrick Ness book

I'm not sure what is the best book to pick up from his. I chose A Monster Calls but let me know if you like better other books of his.

Harry Potter re-read

I'm in the middle of it actually. I wanted to add this so I could have something I'll surely cross off quickly and it'll motivate me to read more. I have the last two books to read.

A fairy-tale retelling

There are so many. I've wanted to pick up Romanov for some time, so this is my chance.

A Haruki Murakami book

His writing style always draws me in and leaves me feeling like I just woke up from a dream. I want to read The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle for this.

An lgbtq book

Great candidates for this one. I'm going to take it easy and finally read I'll give you the sun, but I'm still open for ideas.

A prize winner

The Goldfinch has been on my shelf for quite long. It's time to get rid of it.

A Ian McEwan book

I loved Amsterdam with all my heart. For this, I'll read Atonement.

Scythe series

No description needed.

His Dark Materials trilogy

Just because.

A Markus Zusak book

The Book Thief is my favorite book. I know that his other books won't compare, but I have to see for myself. I chose I am the Messanger.

A Brandon Sanderson book

Mistborn series was one of the greatest adventure of my last year. I don't want to commit big for this, so I chose Elantris.

A Laini Taylor book

Simply saying, Strange the Dreamer.

[nestofstraightlines]

Re. Discworld fandom, especially on Twitter. But, y’know, here too.

I never thought I’d be ashamed to be part of the Discworld fandom but I am right now.

It’s fine to feel like The Watch isn’t looking like something you’re going to like and to be disappointed by that. But I’ve seen such entitled vitriol it’s like looking at the Last Jedi or Ghostbusters ‘discourse’.

I have literally seen people on Twitter accused by fellow ‘fans’ of being shills because they dared to say ‘eh I dunno looks like it might be good and hey maybe faithful adaptations aren’t the way to go since they haven’t exactly delivered gold before’. I mean shills for who exactly?

And I have seen a lot of people inventing the idea that the Pratchetts and Rob are firmly on side with all this hate and that Terry would be disappointed and would never have let this happen…

And that can fuck right off. You do not get to invoke the endorsement of a dead man to make you feel more entitled to your whinging.

No, you are not carrying the burning fire of righteousness within you because you cry for ‘faithfulness’. Because that’s a meaningless concept. A faithful Discworld adaptation to screen? The soul of Discworld is in the narrative voice, and where does that go when you move into an audiovisual medium? We’ve seen what plot/surface-faithful Discworld adaptations look like and does anyone actually consider Hogfather the height of representation of how deep, funny and brilliant Pratchett’s books are?

Turns out you have to change things to stay true to the other things you consider more important. Oh and that there is no true Discworld because it exists differently in the imagination of every single reader.

What ‘they should be faithful’ means is just ‘it should match my imagination more’ and ‘they’ve changed it in ways I don’t like’. Except that sounds like a bit less of a righteous complaint, doesn’t it?

And then there’s the True Fan bit. ‘All true Pratchett fans will reject this’. No you reject it and you want to feel like your personal preferences are more significant than they are. You want to feel that because something is so important to you, your opinion is important to it.

Your fandom isn’t truer than anyone else’s, you’re not more passionate or invested than those willing to give this show a shot.

And you certainly don’t hold the fan Top Trumps against fans who are also creators who have now spent years of their life crafting something they feel is a worthy interpretation of material they love. You’re not a Better Understander of Discworld because you can meaninglessly bleat ‘if I were adapting Discworld I would simply point a camera at my imagination and everyone would be happy with it. RIP to The Watch but I’m different’.

Your dogmatism does not trump their creativity. You don’t look smart when you say ‘have they even read the books’. You’re not the keeper of the one true flame.

I thought Good Omens was pretty bad. I wrote a whole essay on why I thought that was, and I’m not afraid of being heavily critical of creators I don’t think were up to the job.

But what I didn’t do was scrawl vitriol all over every thread on Twitter or chase around other fans who did rate it, telling them they were wrong. I bit my tongue in forums where the creators might see my words because I have some damn respect for people who make things no matter if they are to my personal taste.

So if you hate the look of the new Watch series – well, a. get a grip, we’ve seen some casting decisions and four set photos. And b. have some filter on your entitled fan baby disappointment. You aren’t owed anything because you like a thing.

Tumblr is basically a peer-to-peer fandom space where you don’t run much risk of your nonsense reaching the eyes of creators (unless it’s Gaiman of course). So fine, post your essays on why you know, based on four photos and a press release that this will be so bad it somehow retroactively deletes the books from your shelf.

But don’t you dare act like you speak for anyone outside yourself, and don’t get up in other more open-minded fans’ faces mistaking your hurt ego and disappointment for righteous defense of something. That’s not passionate fandom, that’s rudeness and bullying.

The Discworld fandom on Twitter especially looks like Snyder Cut bros or anti-Last-Jedi campaigners right now, and I’m ashamed of them.

[shannaraisles]

Writer Process Meme

I’ve been tagged by so many people, but the most recent ones are the lovely @laraslandlockedblues, the luscious @lechatrouge673, and the cutie @kawakaeguri! Thank you, darlin’s!

Short stories, novels, or poems?

Somewhere in between? My long fics tend to turn out excruciatingly long, but I have a fairly decent turnover with ficlets that seem to average about 3000 words, give or take. So I guess I’m saying ... short stories in between writing a novel or novella’s worth of arcing storyline. Sadly, the only poems I have any real talent with are limericks, and they only come when I’m in a very particular mood.

What genre do you prefer reading?

I do mostly read fantasy and humor. I’m pretty attached to historical dramas as well, and I do love me a good non-fiction from time to time. Also romance, be it bodice-rippers or otherwise. ~grins~ I’ll read virtually anything once, to be honest. Some things several times.

What genre do you prefer writing?

I think we can all safely say I’m in my comfort zone with romance. ~laughs~ Although it tends not to be the full focus of my longer stories, romance is usually the arc that winds itself around the adventure.

Are you a planner or a write-as-I-go kind of person?

Um ... pass? ~laughs~ It all depends on what I’m writing. I generally start writing with the vaguest idea of where I eventually want to go with it, but I will write myself very rough outlines for the next two or three chapters just so I stay on track. With ficlets, I don’t bother planning - I have an idea, and I just bang away at the keyboard until the idea happens. This is why my attempts at PWP smut turn into 7k monsters - I have no plan, and plot just happens without permission.

What music do you listen to while writing?

Nothing! I genuinely can’t focus when there’s music in the background, even instrumental mood music. I write in silence, to the beat of my own inner editor lying on the floor of my mind screaming out a tantrum because I won’t let her go back and fix a typo I made four pages ago.

Fave books/movies?

Oh, good grief. Let’s just go with a brief look at my shelf, shall we?

Books: The Chronicles of Shannara - Terry Brooks (is anyone surprised?); The Belgariad, Mallorean, Elenium, and Tamuli - David Eddings; The Discworld - Terry Pratchett. Favoritest book ever ever ever? To Kill A Mockingbird - Harper Lee.

Movies: I did a meme for this! But forgot to put Some Like It Hot in there.

Any current WIPs?

In progress and being posted as I go - A Rose By Any Name, and In Marcher Fields. Being worked on in the background - Thedas go Brách.

If someone were to make a cartoon out of you, what would your standard outfit be?

Bare feet, dark blue jeans, black top with at least half-sleeves, and don’t forget the comedy glasses!

Create a character description for yourself:

Niamh hated the word “average”. It didn’t describe anything, and certainly not her - she’d go with words like “dumpy”, “short-ish”, “pale and freckled”. Others would use words like “sweet”, “nice”, and on occasion, “adorable”. She didn’t mind that so much. After all, it was better that people saw the good rather than the bad.

Do you like incorporating people you actually know into your writing?

Well, if we’re discounting the sheer amount of me that goes into every one of my protagonist characters ... One person in particular has the misfortune to be my go-to for fleshing out secondary characters who are generally more fun to be around than my protagonists. ~chuckles~ She doesn’t know it, and she never will if I can help it!

Are you kill-happy with characters?

Well, I wouldn’t say I’m kill-happy. I like a good impactful death every now and then, but I think I’m generally pro-life when it comes to my characters and their stories. I think. ~quietly pushes Poppy’s story behind her~

Coffee or tea while writing?

Water or juice. If I’m drinking tea or coffee, I’m relaxing, and relaxing and writing do not mix.

Slow or fast writer?

I feel slow, because when I started just over a year ago, I was putting out a chapter a day like an idiot. Even though I’ve slowed down, though, I think I’m reasonably fast.

Where/who/what do you find inspiration from?

Pretty much everything, but it tends to get mulled over in the back of my mind and spring out at me when I’m not in a position to write anything down. Like just about to fall asleep, for example.

If you were put into a fantasy world, what would you be?

Realistically? Dead. ~laughs~ Ideally? ... I’m kind of torn between an independent noble/princess type, or a magical healer of some kind. I’m definitely not a warrior type.

Most fave book cliche? Least fave book cliche?

Most: Happy ever after. I love seeing characters I’ve bonded with get their reward.

Least: To be honest, I can’t think of a cliche off the top of my head that I actually dislike. It’s all in the execution - if it’s lazily written, I’ll hate it.

Fave scenes to write?

I’m a fluff monster. All the fluff, always. I even actively avoid writing angst, and my angst barely even registers as angst half the time! I enjoy quiet moments between characters who are friends or more - not so much the physicality of those moments as the emotional connection between them.

Most productive time of day for writing?

Weirdly, it all depends on when the inspiration strikes. Most of the time, it’s mid-afternoon, but today, I was writing right up until 1am!

Reason for writing:

Straight up honestly? To make myself feel better. I have various issues, and they limit my ability to feel that I’ve accomplished anything at all in a given day. Through my writing, I get to vicariously go on adventures, make close friends, fall in love, and experience a little bit of what belonging to something feels like. Through the community that I’ve joined in sharing my writing, I’ve found friends. It doesn’t sound like much, but it means the world to me.

And I think pretty much everyone has done this by now, right? If you haven’t, consider yourself tagged!

[thatgirlonstage]

I have read, watched, and listened to a vast number of stories in my life. I have been devouring books since I was old enough to understand my parents reading them to me. I have binged my way through dozens of TV shows. I have seen more films and plays than I can possibly count or remember. In recent years, I discovered podcasts and added a handful of them to my diet of stories as well. If I pictured the vast collection of every story I have ever consumed in my life as a massive library, there would probably be only a single, relatively small shelf, high up at the back, that contains a collection of media that I have FELT change me - as a storyteller, and also probably as a person. Every story has an effect, of course, but there are a few that have caused a sort of tectonic shift, noticeable before I'd even finished the story. There are a few that transcend the typical boundaries of storytelling to become something more than what they are. Lord of the Rings is up there. I think Bleak House by Charles Dickens is up there. Shakespeare's body of work as a whole is probably in the center of the shelf. There are many stories I love dearly, that mean something very special to me, but aren't quite THAT kind of story, not for me. Harry Potter occupies a very special and very important place in my life, but I don't think it's on that shelf. Neither are the Disney films I cherished as a child, although that may be only because I can't remember watching them the first time. Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood is there. So is Avatar: The Last Airbender. So, I think, is Gravity Falls. They are stories that make me want to be better, to do better, especially as a writer and an actor. They make me reconsider the way I tell stories and the way I bring them to the people around me. Every story does that - if only to say, "I hated that and I never want to put it in my own writing" - but there's something almost unquantifiable about the way these stories touch and shape me. I can't explain it, only that THESE are what I go back to when I need a reminder of the way that stories should be told. These remind me of everything I aspire to do. The Book Thief by Markus Zusak is up there. Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman is there, next to at least one of Terry Pratchett's Discworld novels. A performance of Hamlet I saw at the American Shakespeare Center is represented by a program or a ticket, as is a production of Taming of the Shrew at the Globe, and a production of Arcadia I saw in New York some years back. And honestly, while I'm probably forgetting a couple things, that's... pretty close to all of it. For all the many stories I have heard in my life, not many have hit me this way. If they had, it wouldn't be as significant. The shelves around it are occupied by all sorts of stories that hold extraordinary importance to me, for one reason or another. Harry Potter, Mulan and the Lion King and the Little Mermaid, Steven Universe, Rick Riordan's books, Sense8, the rest of Dickens' and Pratchett's and Gaiman's books, Moonlight, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers, Welcome to Night Vale, the Temeraire series, Homer's Iliad and Odyssey and Aeschylus's Oresteia, a book called Mara: Daughter of the Nile... this list could stretch out for miles. But it comes down to this idea of the stories I go back to - not for comfort or love or appreciation, because that's everything I just listed, but for INSPIRATION. To be reminded of just how deeply a story can move me. I can't make this judgement for sure just yet. I have to wait, and recover a bit emotionally from the finale, and see where I land when I can look at it with clear eyes. But The Adventure Zone FEELS like one of these stories that changes me. It feels like the kind of story that leaves me a better person than it found me. It makes me want to just sit quietly and watch the world for a while, because the journey it took me on mattered. I feel INSPIRED, so much so that I almost want to write the McElroys a thank you note for giving us this show. Perhaps I'm being overdramatic. Perhaps with a day or two of emotional recovery TAZ will join the giant bookcase of stories I love and cherish, but no more. But the feeling I got listening to the closing music is the same feeling I got closing Neverwhere the first time, or watching the credits roll on the last episode of Avatar. This show was something DIFFERENT than normal. Something that mattered tremendously. And I am so, so grateful that it exists.

[readbookywooks]

This is the bright candlelit room where the life-timers are stored – shelf upon shelf of them, squat hourglasses, one for every living person, pouring their fine sand from the future into the past. The accumulated hiss of the falling grains makes the room roar like the sea. This is the owner of the room, stalking through it with a preoccupied air. His name is Death. But not any Death. This is the Death whose particular sphere of operations is, well, not a sphere at all, but the Discworld, which is flat and rides on the back of four giant elephants who stand on the shell of the enormous star turtle Great A'Tuin, and which is bounded by a waterfall that cascades endlessly into space. Scientists have calculated that the chance of anything so patently absurd actually existing are millions to one. But magicians have calculated that million-to-one chances crop up nine times out of ten. Death clicks across the black and white tiled floor on toes of bone, muttering inside his cowl as his skeletal fingers count along the rows of busy hourglasses. Finally he finds one that seems to satisfy him, lifts it carefully from its shelf and carries it across to the nearest candle. He holds it so that the light lints off it, and stares at the little point of reflected brilliance. The steady gaze from those twinkling eye-sockets encompasses the world turtle, sculling through the deeps of space, carapace scarred by comets and pitted by meteors. One day even Great A'Tuin will die, Death knows; now, that would be a challenge. But the focus of his gaze dives onwards towards the blue-green magnificence of the Disc itself, turning slowly under its tiny orbiting sun. Now it curves away towards the great mountain range called the Ramtops. The Ramtops are full of deep valleys and unexpected crags and considerably more geography than they know what to do with. They have their own peculiar weather, full of shrapnel rain and whiplash winds and permanent thunder-storms. Some people say it's all because the Ramtops are the home of old, wild magic. Mind you, some people will say anything. Death blinks, adjusts for depth of vision. Now he sees the grassy country on the turnwise slopes of the mountains. Now he sees a particular hillside. Now he sees a field. Now he sees a boy, running. Now he watches. Now, in a voice like lead slabs being dropped on granite, he says: YES. There was no doubt that there was something magical in the soil of that hilly, broken area which – because of the strange tint that it gave to the local flora – was known as the octarine grass country. For example, it was one of the few places on the Disc where plants produced reannual varieties. Reannuals are plants that grow backwards in time. You sow the seed this year and they grow last year. Mort's family specialised in distilling the wine from reannual grapes. These were very powerful and much sought after by fortune-tellers, since of course they enabled them to see the future. The only snag was that you got the hangover the morning before, and had to drink a lot to get over it. Reannual growers tended to be big, serious men, much given to introspection and close examination of the calendar. A farmer who neglects to sow ordinary seeds only loses the crop, whereas anyone who forgets to sow seeds of a crop that has already been harvested twelve months before risks disturbing the entire fabric of causality, not to mention acute embarrassment. It was also acutely embarrassing to Mort's family that the youngest son was not at all serious and had about the same talent for horticulture that you would find in a dead starfish. It wasn't that he was unhelpful, but he had the land of vague, cheerful helpfulness that serious men soon learn to dread. There was something infectious, possibly even fatal, about it. He was tall, red-haired and freckled, with the sort of body that seems to be only marginally under its owner's control; it appeared to have been built out of knees. On this particular day it was hurtling across the high fields, waving its hands and yelling. Mort's father and uncle watched it disconsolately from the stone wall. 'What I don't understand,' said father Lezek, 'is that the birds don't even fly away. I'd fly away, if I saw it coining towards me.' 'Ah. The human body's a wonderful thing. I mean, his legs go all over the place but there's a fair turn of speed there.' Mort reached the end of a furrow. An overfull woodpigeon lurched slowly out of his way. 'His heart's in the right place, mind,' said Lezek, carefully. 'Ah. 'Course, 'tis the rest of him that isn't.' 'He's clean about the house. Doesn't eat much,' said Lezek. 'No, I can see that.' Lezek looked sideways at his brother, who was staring fixedly at the sky. 'I did hear you'd got a place going up at your farm, Hamesh,' he said. 'Ah. Got an apprentice in, didn't I?' 'Ah,' said Lezek gloomily, 'when was that, then?' 'Yesterday,' said his brother, lying with rattlesnake speed. 'All signed and sealed. Sorry. Look, I got nothing against young Mort, see, he's as nice a boy as you could wish to meet, it's just that —' 'I know, I know,' said Lezek. 'He couldn't find his arse with both hands.' They stared at the distant figure. It had fallen over. Some pigeons had waddled over to inspect it. 'He's not stupid, mind,' said Hamesh. 'Not what you'd call stupid.' 'There's a brain there all right,' Lezek conceded. 'Sometimes he starts thinking so hard you has to hit him round the head to get his attention. His granny taught him to read, see. I reckon it overheated his mind.' Mort had got up and tripped over his robe. 'You ought to set him to a trade,' said Hamesh, reflectively. 'The priesthood, maybe. Or wizardry. They do a lot of reading, wizards.' They looked at each other. Into both their minds stole an inkling of what Mort might be capable of if he got his well-meaning hands on a book of magic. 'All right,' said Hamesh hurriedly. 'Something else, then. There must be lots of things he could turn his hand to.' 'He starts thinking too much, that's the trouble,' said Lezek. 'Look at him now. You don't think about how to scare birds, you just does it. A normal boy, I mean.' Hamesh scratched his chin thoughtfully. 'It could be someone else's problem,' he said. Lezek's expression did not alter, but there was a subtle change around his eyes. 'How do you mean?' he said. 'There's the hiring fair at Sheepridge next week. You set him as a prentice, see, and his new master'll have the job of knocking him into shape. 'Tis the law. Get him indentured, and 'tis binding.' Lezek looked across the field at his son, who was examining a rock. 'I wouldn't want anything to happen to him, mind,' he said doubtfully. 'We're quite fond of him, his mother and me. You get used to people.' 'It'd be for his own good, you'll see. Make a man of him.' 'Ah. Well. There's certainly plenty of raw material,' sighed Lezek. Mort was getting interested in the rock. It had curly shells in it, relics of the early days of the world when the Creator had made creatures out of stone, no-one knew why. Mort was interested in lots of things. Why people's teeth fitted together so neatly, for example. He'd given that one a lot of thought. Then there was the puzzle of why the sun came out during the day, instead of at night when the light would come in useful. He knew the standard explanation, which somehow didn't seem satisfying. In short, Mort was one of those people who are more dangerous than a bag full of rattlesnakes. He was determined to discover the underlying logic behind the universe. Which was going to be hard, because there wasn't one. The Creator had a lot of remarkably good ideas when he put the world together, but making it understandable hadn't been one of them. Tragic heroes always moan when the gods take an interest in them, but it's the people the gods ignore who get the really tough deals. His father was yelling at him, as usual. Mort threw the rock at a pigeon, which was almost too full to lurch out of the way, and wandered back across the field. And that was why Mort and his father walked down through the mountains into Sheepridge on Hogswatch Eve, with Mort's rather sparse possessions in a sack on the back of a donkey. The town wasn't much more than four sides to a cobbled square, lined with shops that provided all the service industry of the farming community. After five minutes Mort came out of the tailors wearing a loose fitting brown garment of imprecise function, which had been understandably unclaimed by a previous owner and had plenty of room for him to grow, on the assumption that he would grow into a nineteen-legged elephant. His father regarded him critically. 'Very nice,' he said, 'for the money.' 'It itches,' said Mort. 'I think there's things in here with me.' There's thousands of lads in the world'd be very thankful for a nice warm —' Lezek paused, and gave up – 'garment like that, my lad.' 'I could share it with them?' Mort said hopefully. 'You've got to look smart,' said Lezek severely. 'You've got to make an impression, stand out in the crowd.' There was no doubt about it. He would. They set out among the throng crowding the square, each listening to his own thoughts. Usually Mort enjoyed visiting the town, with its cosmopolitan atmosphere and strange dialects from villages as far away as five, even ten miles, but this time he felt unpleasantly apprehensive, as if he could remember something that hadn't happened yet. The fair seemed to work like this: men looking for work stood in ragged lines in the centre of the square. Many of them sported little symbols in their hats to tell the world the kind of work they were trained in – shepherds wore a wisp of wool, carters a hank of horsehair, interior decorators a strip of rather interesting hessian wallcovering, and so on. The boys seeking apprenticeships were clustered on the Hub side of the square. 'You just go and stand there, and someone comes and offers you an apprenticeship,' said Lezek, his voice trimmed with uncertainty. 'If they like the look of you, that is.' 'How do they do that?' said Mort. 'Well,' said Lezek, and paused. Hamesh hadn't explained about this bit. He drew on his limited knowledge of the marketplace, which was restricted to livestock sales, and ventured, 'I suppose they count your teeth and that. And make sure you don't wheeze and your feet are all right. I shouldn't let on about the reading, it unsettles people.' 'And then what?' said Mort. 'Then you go and learn a trade,' said Lezek. 'What trade in particular?' 'Well . . . carpentry is a good one,' Lezek hazarded. 'Or thievery. Someone's got to do it.' Mort looked at his feet. He was a dutiful son, when he remembered, and if being an apprentice was what was expected of him then he was determined to be a good one. Carpentry didn't sound very promising, though – wood had a stubborn life of its own, and a tendency to split. And official thieves were rare in the Ramtops, where people weren't rich enough to afford them. 'All right,' he said eventually, 'I'll go and give it a try. But what happens if I don't get prenticed?' Lezek scratched his head. 'I don't know,' he said. 'I expect you just wait until the end of the fair. At midnight. I suppose.' And now midnight approached. A light frost began to crisp the cobblestones. In the ornamental clock tower that overlooked the square a couple of delicately-carved little automatons whirred out of trapdoors in the clockface and struck the quarter hour. Fifteen minutes to midnight. Mort shivered, but the crimson fires of shame and stubbornness flared up inside him, hotter than the slopes of Hell. He blew on his fingers for something to do and stared up at the freezing sky, trying to avoid the stares of the few stragglers among what remained of the fair. 

[dramarambles-blog]

So, my laptop is having a huge mental breakdown and hates me (so editing is pretty near impossible atm) so I’m going to post this here! This is a little recap of all the books I read in September ^^

I would just like to preface this with, “I am aware that I am late on the train for most of these!” I mean Wilde is very dead, but that one was out of my hands haha ^^”. I say this as I was laughed at by a friend because I only just started the Bloodlines series…

The Picture of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde

I have had this on my shelf for a long time and I’ve tried to pick this us before, but my brain did not agree. However, that month I did it! And I’m so glad I did. Wilde’s writing styling is wonderful. It is poetic and incredibly thought-provoking (however, I will admit, at times I wasn’t sure what people were saying… haha). The story is one that most people know of, but I had no idea that that’s what the ending is?! I think this book sheds light on the fascination with youth and beauty and the horrors of life that can mar it. But it also shows that clinging onto youth and beauty will only turn what you had into something ghastly and misshapen.

On The Other Side, Carrie Hope Fletcher

I truly wish this was what happened to those who died, it would be heartbreaking but beautiful and comforting to those left behind. I found that Carrie’s writing was easy and comfortable. The characters and the premise of having to reveal our secrets before leaving to go to our personal heaven were lovely and the magical realism lifted the story off the page. I will say, at times the jumps to what was happening in the present and what was happening in the past was a little off. This may be because I listened to it on audiobook (Carrie’s voice is so relaxing to listen to by the way!) Sometimes you just need a cute story, although I’m still not sure how I feel about what could possibly happen to Jim (he was my favourite character) in his afterlife.

Daughter of the Earth and Sky + The Iron Queen (Books 2+3 in the Daughters of Zeus Series), Kaitlin Bevis

I think I preferred book 2 to the first. I feel like Persephone is becoming more of a stronger character and her links to other characters, such as Cassandra, Hades and those around her in the human realm as well are stronger, and I’m enjoying seeing that growth.

One of my big issues though is Aphrodite. I seem to only like her in the Disney channel animated series ‘Hercules’, because all of her other incarnations are just not my cup of tea! (which is why I’m just going to read the Persephone trilogy and not continue).  I’m looking forward to seeing Persephone and Hades kick more butt in the next book! (These books aren’t amazing, but they are fast paced and somewhat trashy, and I really enjoy the modern twist).

There were a few things I wasn’t overly happy about with ‘The Iron Queen’, mainly the amount of pov’s. Especially as I’m not really a fan of Aphrodite’s voice (which upsets me because I still have so many questions, but right now I have no intention of continuing…). And this may be an unpopular opinion, but I wasn’t exactly a fan of Hades’ voice. Yes he was snarky/funny and adorable, but I wouldn’t have been upset if he hadn’t gotten his own point of view.

But! I really enjoyed this book. The pacing was a bit off at times, but the payoff was great. The twists and unexpected turns were well executed and one in particular kind of blew my mind. Persephone, as a character, has grown so much throughout these 3 books and this one is particular forced her to step up and also made her realise just how strong she actually is. And Hades stepped up his dramatic-ness haha ^^”

Bloodlines + The Golden Lily (Books 1&2 of the Bloodline Series), Richelle Mead

‘Bloodlines’ started off slow, but the last 30-40% made up for a lot of that! I feel like Sydney is a pretty well-rounded character and we saw some great development in this, and it’s only the first book, so I’m interested to see where Mead takes her. I do feel that we didn’t really get that much depth to Jill, which is disappointing considering we spent a lot of time with her, but hopefully that can change in the following books. Considering what Jill has been through, I can understand her attitudes, but she’s a Moroi princess! A lot of new things were established in this book (and it was nice to fall back into the VA world) which will be fun to explore further. And of course Adrian Ivashkov is wonderful and needs to be loved and treated so much better than he is and I’m still bitter about how he was treated in the last few books of Vampire Academy. All in all, I think this was a good opening to the series, however, I think I would have rated it a 4⭐ if the first half had been stronger, so I think it’s more of a 3.5/3.75⭐ for me.

‘The Golden Lily’ was so much more interesting that the first book! We had a lot more development with Sydney and Adrian, and slightly on some other characters as well. Sadly, Jill is still a bit lacklustre for me… I want to like her, but there just doesn’t seem to be much to her character. Adrian is hilarious and heartfelt and his interactions with others are always so interesting and the events at the end of this book broke my heart, but at the same time I was happy because he has come such a long way. I’m like a proud mother hen haha ^^”  The Alchemists, as an organisation is so interesting and I kind of wish Sydney would be more involved because I want to know everything, but this ‘rebel’ group seems like it will bring out the dirt the Alchemists don’t want us to know. The new groups and cross-group interactions has been super fun and I’m definitely excited to see what happens next!

Going Postal (Discworld #33), Terry Pratchett

Funny, sincere and wacky. Which is generally what you find when delving into a Pratchett novel! Moist Von Lipwig was not your typical hero, but he ended up shining (like his suit… haha I’m so funny) and I was definitely won over. The other characters were all rather interesting, generally funny and quirky (and in some cases very odd). It was great to see characters from other discworld books I’ve read. I’ve only read a couple of Pratchett’s works, but I’m excited to pick more up in the future. I never want to say too much about a Pratchett plot, because I think it’s far more beneficial if you don’t know the twists and madness of the journey he takes you on.

Library of Souls, Ransom Riggs

I won’t say too much on this because it is the last of the ‘Miss Peregrine’s Home For Peculiar Children’ trilogy. I found that this was a satisfying ending to this trilogy. The writing is great and the characterisation and development of Jacob (especially) in this book was great. I loved that we got to see more of the different elements to Perculiardom. However, I did have some problems with this book. So much of this book was fast paced and great, but at the same time there was so much happening and we met so many new people, that some of them and certain events just didn’t seem necessary. I kind of missed the peculiars I’d connected with so much in the first two books.

This series was very hyped, and I was close to not picking it up, but I would definitely recommend this trilogy.

Those were the books I read in September. I hope you had a good reading month as well! What books did you read? What books did you enjoy the most? I love hearing what people don’t like, but being positive is better, right?

If you’ve read any of the books I did, let me know what you thought, if you agree or disagree (*drama* :p).

I’m thinking of doing more book related posts, I will definitely still be doing Asian Drama posts (which I swear I will get back on track with soon ㅠ.ㅠ) but I feel like branching out here as well.

Thanks for reading! I hope you are having a great day! 🙂

My laptop hates me & editing is a no-no. So here's a post about the books I read last month :) So, my laptop is having a huge mental breakdown and hates me (so editing is pretty near impossible atm)