#reading through the decades

[doitinanotherlanguage]

2023 Reading Through the Decades Reading Challenge

Calling all readers on tumblr! If you happen to love reading and learning, I warmly invite you to join my reading challenge Reading Through the Decades! The challenge will last from January 2023 to January 2024, and the plan is to read literature from/about the 1900s (and 2000s) decade by decade.

What to Read for the Challenge?

The purpose of the challenge is to read about a specific decade during each month. During the challenge, I am planning to read:

literature published during a given decade (e.g. in April, books published in the 1930s),

literature set during a given decade (e.g. in April, fiction set in the 1930s but published later/earlier),

and non-fiction about a given decade and about events/people of that decade (e.g. in April, non-fiction about the Spanish Civil War or Charlie Chaplin).

I will also make recommendations posts in the beginning of each month to suggest books one could read during that month and to share my plans on what I’m thinking of reading.

A Multimedia Experience

To enhance my experience, I’m also planning to combine other forms of media. This includes:

movies,

documentaries,

TV shows,

and music.

The tag for the challenge is #reading through the decades. So, if you want to join, please use the tag so I can find your posts! Absolutely anyone and everyone can join in, and you can do the challenge in whatever way best suits you 😊

[mollydot]

Watch "L'Ombrelle (1911) The Umbrella (Pathé)" on YouTube

For those doing the multimedia part of reading through the decades challenge, a film from 1911

[stefito0o]

It's March and that means it's time to read the 1920s 🌟

I was going to read Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf as I have it on my shelf but then as I was looking for something to listen to at work I came across Passing by Nella Larsen.

Set in 1927 and published in 1929, it was read by Tessa Thompson and I think she did a very good job. Found out there is also a movie on Netflix, starring Tessa Thompson again, so that's on my watch list.

If I have time I might go to Mrs Dalloway at some point this month.

[mollydot]

1913, from Punch magazine

Proposed land bridge and canal between Scotland and Ireland.

[andsewingishalfthebattle]

Novice sewing pattern: Cut out shapes. Line up the little triangles on the edges. Stitch edges together. We've also included step-by-step assembly instructions with illustrations.

Novice knitting pattern: yOU MUSt uNDerstANd thE SECret cOdE CO67 (73, 87, 93) BO44 (63, 76, 90) 28 (32, 34) slip first pw repeat 7x K to end *kl (pl) 42 * until 13" (13, 13, 15) join new at 30 pl for 17 rows ssk 27 k2tog mattress lengthwise BO and sacrifice a goat to the knitting gods. WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU WANT "INSTRUCTIONS," I JUST GAVE THEM TO YOU

[wigglebox]

Yapper BF 💛❤️

This post by @kendyroy killed me a lil bit

[stil-lindigo]

how clare managed to lock down the two strongest warriors of her generation as mums.

a claymore fancomic.

[clanborn]

Origins of the Bay Clans: Stone and the Lynx (Part 2)

The tracks led inland, further than the cats of Stone’s little clan had yet dared to travel. She followed the river upstream, skirting the thrashing current as it threw itself against the banks. The forest grew denser, the hemlocks thicker, the sharp peaks of the mountains taller, casting the valley in deep shadow. All was silent but the river, and the sound of strange, buzzing bird calls that rang eerily through the trees. Though her heart trembled, Stone trekked on, her pawsteps guided by purpose and the tracks that still sat unmistakable in the mud.

Stone had never followed a river to its origin, had never even thought of it as a possibility. Water–rivers, oceans, rains–lived outside the boundaries of a lifespan, within birth and death. Rivers weren’t something that just began, or ended, they simply cycled–at least, that’s what she had believed. 

After hours spent unceasingly hiking through the valley, Stone emerged from the edge of the treeline. The pebbled ground spread flat in front of her, before abruptly spiking upward to form the range of mountains. Two peaks pierced the sky, and nestled between them was a landform unlike anything Stone had ever seen. The river rushed forward from the base of a giant white slope, a crystalline mass carved deep with blue crevices. 

The wall shone like a piece of the moon itself, bleeding into the valley, its essence spilling into the forest before winding its way to the Bay. As Stone drew closer, she realized with a shock that the structure was made of ice, frozen solid despite the warmth of late spring.

She halted at the river’s edge, looking upon the structure in wonder. Was the moon made of ice? Had a shard of it fallen from the heavens upon the mountains? What else could create a fortress so massive, so imposing yet nurturing, whose icy waters fed the land and the bay?

These questions swam through her mind, but she tossed them to the side with a flick of her ears. For now, the answers were unknowable, and she must remain focused on her task.

She shook out her pelt and continued her path: the ground now had turned to gravel, and she tracked by scent instead of footprints. The slope turned steep, then rocky, a gray mountain face broken only by patches of unmelted snow and determined shrubs. Below her, the mass of ice gleamed, stretching out beyond the peaks like a blinding white sea. 

As she continued along the mountainside, she noticed an opening in the cliff face, a dark entrance where the ice field met the mountain. She quickened her pace until she reached the cave entrance, standing on the barrier of darkness. Here, the scent she was tracking hung in the air, strong as ever, leading her into the blackness. She slipped into the cave without a second thought

Inside was a large cave, and she quickly crossed the open stretch of ground to the back, where a darker shadow lay. A tunnel.

Curiosity drove her forward, driving away any fear she might have felt. Down into the tunnel she tread, deeper and deeper into the veins of the mountain. For ages she was guided by scent alone, and the narrow tunnel walls pressing on all sides. An eternity of darkness. 

Finally, Stone saw light, a blue glow that softly spilled into the end of the tunnel. Her footsteps quickened, and the cat entered into a cavern. Her breath hitched as she stepped into the light, awed by the sight before her. A medium sized cave rose around her, walls of smooth, layered stone arcing above her. The stone was washed with blue, for one wall was made not of rock, but entirely of ice. It was a deep, rich blue, as sunlight filtered down into the fragment of icy moon.

Within the ice wall’s bubbles and cracks hung an even stranger sight. A giant skeleton, ancient and fragmented, was trapped frozen in the ice, the remains of a creature Stone had never seen before. Though it’s thick bones and long, curved fangs were utterly unfamiliar, something in Stone knew it had once called itself catkin. A forgotten ancestor.

In front of the ice, sitting still and gray as the rocks around it, was a towering feline silhouette, its tufted ears outlined by the cold light. Stone’s fellow, wild catkin cousin. The Lynx.

The Lynx turned its gaze towards her slowly, expectantly, like it had known about her presence even before she did. Stone approached it, wary. 

“I admire your tenacity, cat” Its voice was a gravelly purr. “I thought you’d stop at the treeline.”

Stone skirted the wall carefully, keeping several pawsteps of distance between her and the creature. “Why did you assume that?”

The Lynx wrinkled its nose in a wry smirk. “Well, look at you. You’re an imitation of a cat. This wilderness is unfit for your kind.”

Stone flattened her ears, attempting to keep her voice level. “What exactly do you mean?”

“You call yourselves ‘cats’, yet your kind feeds by human hands. You have grown small and thin-furred, distant from your nobler origins. You can only survive in little packs, reliant on the work of others, unable to face nature with your own merit—A true ‘cat’ walks in solitude, you know nothing of the sort.”

Stone looked beyond the Lynx to the ice wall behind it, where the massive bones of their great ancestor lay suspended in time. “You say my kind has fallen, but have yours not? Have you not also grown smaller than this god, your fangs short, your bones thin? It too lived in solitude, yet here it lies, dead, its life unremembered by its catkin. You mock my community, but we have lived this long despite this lands’ harshness, and will continue to do so.”

The Lynx’s smug expression faded, and its gaze grew intense as it stared at Stone. “Even gods die, housecat. The only thing life guarantees is an ending.” It curled its lip. “Your ‘community’ is not exempt from this.”

Stone met its eyes, unwavering. “If we are catkin, what bars me from the same powers you possess? Surely I can learn to survive by your means, surely I can find access to your blessings.”

The Lynx almost laughed, but the scoff caught in its throat. It narrowed its eyes, suddenly thoughtful, the smirk creeping back up its muzzle.

“Maybe I can offer you a taste of godhood, little cat. The lives of my predecessors run through me, from the tip of my tail through all ten of my claws.” The deity sat back on its haunches and held up its massive paws in demonstration. For a brief moment, its claws twinkled with a faint light, like stars plucked straight from the sky.

“One of these is mine, of course. But I have nine to spare.” It tilted its head down at her, its fangs gleaming in the blue cavern light. “Provided I deem you worthy of them.”

Stone raised her head in challenge. “What would make me worthy?”

The Lynx paused to consider, eyeing her up and down. 

“To you alone I will grant these lives, thus you alone must face me.” The lynx narrowed its eyes. “Prove to me your will and strength, and defeat me in battle. If I submit, I grant you these lives, and the chance to explore this bay with greater distance between death and yourself.”

“Your loss, of course, will cost you your life.” It dipped its head towards her. “Is it a deal?”

Stone paused, hesitant, her heart fluttering in her chest. How could she face this creature in her state, small in stature, weary from her climb, completely alone? Despite her apprehension, her curiosity was stronger. There was only one chance for an opportunity like this, and even if she declined, what would stop the Lynx from killing her anyway?.

She nodded once. “I accept your terms.”

The lynx nodded back. Its fangs flashed. It stretched its claws. 

They leapt into battle.

Stone was swift, but the Lynx was strong and skilled. It battered her with massive paws, slamming her into the cold rocky floor. Stone dodged and weaved through its attacks, but the cavern was small, and every leap Stone made seemed to send her into another faceful of claws.

Her opponent threw a powerful swipe, tossing her against the ice wall with a thud. Back against the blue glow, Stone crouched low, struggling to catch her breath. Her strength was waning, and Stone knew with every moment her chances of victory grew slimmer. Her paws shook slightly. The Lynx had noticed her waver, and began to pad towards with calm, sure steps. It smiled–it was eager to finish her off. How could she win this?

She thought of the cats–the clan–she had left behind, who likely waited anxiously for their wayward leader’s return. Would they falter without her guidance? Would the glimmer of hope she had lit in their hearts snuff out with fear? If only she could lead them to the majestic moon glacier, show them the ethereal ancient glow of the blue cave, renew their spirits with wonder at the wilderness they were trapped in. Stone suddenly stiffened, steeling herself as she lifted her gaze back toward her foe. Though she fought alone in the cavern, her mind conjured the presence of her clan behind her. She would not die here. She would die among the cats she had befriended, who had banded together in their time of need. The cats she needed, who needed her to return alive.

With a burst of vigor, Stone launched herself toward the lynx’s head, her weight and confidence catching it off guard. She clung to its face, slashing its ears, her momentum sending it crashing hard into the floor. It flailed its huge paws, but Stone stood steadfast upon its chest, pressing her own paws down forcefully against its throat. Her claws dug in, blood welled up around her toes. The lynx grew more panicked, struggling wildly, its breath stuttering in strangled gasps. Stone pressed harder.

“St–Sto-”

Stone leaned close into its face. “Do you yield?”

The Lynx thrashed its head, attempting to nod frantically. “Yg-Yes!”

Stone slowly lifted her paws, releasing pressure off the creature’s throat. It gasped for air, then shoved her off its chest, throwing her to the floor. She scrambled to her paws, watching the Lynx heave. After it had caught its breath, the Lynx pressed its paw deep into the stone floor. It did so with strange power, impressing into the rock like it was mud, leaving the crisp outline of its giant pawprint. It beckoned her over. Its breath was hoarse. “Come.”

Stone approached the Lynx. She eyed it warily, nervous that it would decide to ignore the deal and kill her anyway. But it didn’t move as she stood above it, her paws settling on the edge of its pawprint, which seemed to sparkle slightly in the dim, cold light. 

The Lynx glared up at her, its cool demeanor vanished, its eyes blazing with controlled fury. “Touch your nose to the floor,” it growled. “You will receive your reward.”

Carefully, Stone dipped her head down, until her nose brushed against the floor’s icy chill. For a brief moment, all was still.

Suddenly, she was blinded by overwhelming light. The force of the glare threw her head back, and her vision was assaulted by an oppressive blur of color and noise. Images flashed in her mind, landscapes, memories, creatures she has never seen before. Each streaked by, too fast for her to fully process the scenes. Waves of emotion crashed in her, sending her reeling, thrown into a raging sea of grief and joy and fear and wonder. She felt all of time as it had crept by, millions of years of the past and future stretched out infinitely, lived all at once in a single instant. She felt everything. She felt nothing. It was the most agonizing pain she had ever experienced, swept in a flood of sheer euphoria. She knew places and beasts and times she had no name for, all lived through and known by the catkin before her. It was the longest moment of her life, but as she crouched, trembling, blinking her eyes back to the sight of the blue cavern, she realized only seconds had passed.

The Lynx had stood, and had begun moving toward the cave’s exit. It turned to look down at her, and Stone returned its gaze, panting heavily, her fur on end and buzzing with strange energy.

It was silent for a moment. “You now have eight more lives to live along with your own. More than any little cat has had before. Your blessing and your curse.” It lulled thoughtfully, its expression had settled back into its neutral stare. 

Its voice was cold, though laced with an undertone of contempt–and perhaps, Stone thought, respect. “Do not treat this victory lightly, Stone. Every day you live here will be another test, another gamble with your life. Living here is a game with no winners, and you and your fellows can only stall the march of nature for so long.” 

The lynx turned, padding toward the exit. “The gods here will meddle where they like, and though you have bested me, I can not guarantee my kin will be deterred from entertaining themselves with playthings like you.”

The god stopped in the entrance, then glanced back toward her, its face in shadow.

“Good luck, Stone. You will need it.”

It disappeared.

For a moment, Stone stood alone in the blue cavern.

She was not Stone anymore. Something had changed within her, the Lynx’s stars sat heavy in her chest, glittered on her whiskers. Just as an icy piece of the moon had fallen to the earth and become one with it, fragments of the stars had melded with her being. She was Stonestar, and her pelt glowed with the new (old?) lives that settled under her fur. 

And she was alive. More than she had ever been before. 

And it was time to return to her clan.

[tanoraqui]

I’m not personally a headcanonner of Maglor living in Rivendell in LotR under a new name, but if he is, I adamantly believe that he is not Lindir (“song guy”) but rather Erestor (tentatively glossed “lonely brother.”) Tragic humor or bust!

[legallydistinctloolooland]

hearing any defense of the huskerdust age gap (as if it needs one) that doesn't start and end with “Angel is, by every metric under the sun, an adult who can make his own decisions” is fucking insane to me. You do not need to pull out a timeline. No math required. He is in his thirties. Fuck, I am younger than him by a considerable amount, and if I could be bothered to get out of my pyjamas and go cruise at the local septuagenarian biker bar, all things made equal, I would be fucking fine. Me and this hypothetical grandpa trick would be equally consenting adults.

It is just a bit frustrating to see this line of argument in EITHER direction, from people who think that a ~thirty years old cannot possibly want GILF pussy or that think you need to corkboard mathletes a way around the age gap by saying “well actually they're around the same age if you [blah blah blah]”. There are things that are actually fucked up about them that we COULD be talking about instead of putting Seattle on blast with this “how could a seventy year old man ethically start a relationship with another fully grown adult, both of whom are trying to make meaningful connections in their lives, beyond their work?”

Please keep in mind, none of this is that serious. This is, at the end of the day, a very silly discourse, and this is, at the end of the day, a very silly reaction. I wish the septuagenarian biker bar thing was serious, but alas. I live in a boring area.

[doitinanotherlanguage]

July 2023 Wrap-up: 1960s

(You can read more about the challenge on my post introducing the challenge. Basically, Reading Through the Decades is a year-long reading challenge where we read books - and explore other media - from the 1900s to the 2020s, decade-by-decade.)

Super late with the July wrap-up, but here it is at last!

What I Enjoyed This Month

📖 Picnic at Hanging Rock (1967), Joan Lindsay -> In 1900, a group of female students at an Australian girls' boarding school vanish at Hanging Rock while on a Valentine's Day picnic, causing varying effects on the school and local community. -> I watched the fantastic, queer 2018 mini-series (starring Natalie Dormer!) earlier this year and absolutely fell in love! So I knew I had to read the original novel as soon as possible. Since the book is written in the 60s, I decided to read it this month. I might prefer the mini-series (because in it, the themes of queerness are much more explicit and central) but the novel definitely holds its own, too.

🎬 Flickorna (1968; The Girls), dir. Mai Zetterling -> A feminist reinvention of the ancient Greek play Lysistrata by Aristophanes: Three actresses prepare to go on the road in a theater production of the classic play about women and war. As the women re-assess and deal with the problems in their respective private lives, they recognize the parallels with the play and begin to realize that it is serious - even tragic - after all. -> Very 60s, very awesome. I love watching older movies that centre women and feminist themes. This is definitely a very inventive and experimental - even surrealist - film.

📖 SCUM Manifesto (1967), Valerie Solanas -> A radical feminist manifesto that argues that men have ruined the world, which women have to fix by forming SCUM, an organization dedicated to overthrowing society and eliminating the male sex. The manifesto was little-known until Solanas attempted to murder Andy Warhol in 1968. -> I don't really know what to say about this. Mostly, the manifesto is filled with absurd bullshit - I don't fuck with violence, I emphatically don't think killing is the solution to anything, and radical feminism is definitely not the brand of feminism for me. That said, the manifesto is also hilarious as fuck: the manifesto totally flips the age-old "women are inferior" dynamic from Western, patriarchal philosophy and theory around, so yielding the manifesto up to an interpretation as a delicious satire. (Unfortunately, it seems that Solanas did not write the manifesto for irony and satire's sake.)

🎬 Victim (1961), dir. Basil Dearden -> A British neo-noir suspense film about a closeted lawyer who risks his career to bring a blackmailer to justice. The film is credited as being the first British film to explicitly name homosexuality and deal with it sympathetically. -> I am not the biggest neo-noir fan, but I very much enjoyed this one. I love a good queer classic!

🎬 Midnight Cowboy (1969), dir. John Schlesinger -> A naive hustler travels from Texas to New York City to seek personal fortune, in the process befriending a scrounging, sleazy small-time con man with big dreams. -> Another queer(?) classic! Idk, I really like watching movies about drifters and down-on-their-luck people struggling onwards in life and maybe finding some modicum of companionship in each other.

🎬 Stonewall (1995), dir. Nigel Finch -> A historical comedy-drama film that gives a fictionalized account of the weeks leading up to the Stonewall riots, a seminal event in the modern American gay rights movement. The main story follows a cross-dressing sex worker who meets a young gay man, freshly arrived in NYC. -> There was a horribly disappointing Stonewall movie made more recently in 2015 - forget about that shit and watch this one instead! This film actually centres cross-dressers, trans women, and queer politics while also incorporating humour, a love story, and several lip-synch numbers!

[aelinfireheartgalathynius]

I finally finished my four-volume ATYD layout!

The body text is larger than any formatted version I have found before, which is why it's four volumes instead of three. (The images I added to this post are just thumbnail previews, not meant to illustrate the relative size of the text.) I designed covers, front matter, chapter accents, and gave each character their own handwriting style for their letters!

I put a huge amount of work into this (for myself!) and I'm excited to share with anyone who is interested. The fanart and fonts I used are all credited (fanart in the front matter, fonts in the back) in case anyone wants to look them up.

These PDFs were specifically designed for printing as perfect-bound paperbacks, which is why the margins are larger on the sides toward the spine. There are all sorts of print-on-demand book sites out there that you can use to order your own copies. If you're handy with InDesign I can send you the .indd files if you'd like to modify them.

If anyone is super interested in having these in EPUB format (for e-readers), I can also share those versions, but they won't have the custom fonts because EPUB formats don't play well with those.

These are hosted on my Google Drive and I have no immediate plans to delete them, but I do recommend downloading them if you think you'll want them in the future, in case I need to delete them down the road.

Here are the files: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1t1ZKdmkDDDUAYqY3Lp6EUilchX5UErlQ?usp=sharing

Tags for those who requested them: @likehephaestionwhodied, @lady-stardust-incarnate, @mxed-salad-greens, @cherryberry1403

[stefito0o]

April is reading the 1930s 🌟

The 1930s were the most productive for Agatha Christie, she published 20 novels in that decade alone! Among them are some of her most popular works as Murder at the Vicarage, Murder on the Orient Express, Death on the Nile, And Then There Were None.

Another title from that decade is Peril at End House which was published in 1932 and which I am currently reading.

[kaspers-kanvas]

he's a broken man

[sam-reid]

ugh marius' story in tvl is just so good. so deeply fucked up. the story of his turning is tragic and horrendous and quite honestly underrated? i mean... we get giant wicker effigies dedicated to akasha and enkil filled with human sacrifices. marius being kidnapped and held prisoner for months until samhain. marius being given to teskhamen as his successor as god of the grove. marius running from his captors through the woods butt-naked to avoid being kept inside the giant oak to starve between ritual slaughters

i'm having a great time with this most recent reread lmao (and i'm sad it's almost over!)

[finelythreadedsky]

 On one level the book is about the life of a woman who is hardly more than a token in a great epic poem, on another it’s about how history and context shape how we are seen, and the brief moment there is to act between the inescapable past and the unknowable future. Perhaps to write Lavinia Le Guin had to live long enough to see her own early books read in a different context from the one where they were written, and to think about what that means.

-Jo Walton