Kitsune

10:26am: Fussy About Romance
I think the only thing harder to find than a great romance novel is a great western. Both genres have their devotees, but both are flooded by books written to a formula. Sometimes well written to that formula, but usually not able to stand on its own as a novel to someone not familiar with the conventions.

There's only two romance novelists that I must read: Georgette Heyer and Jennie Crusie. I've been allergic to romance as a genre ever since reading Harlequin and Barbara Cartland romances in my early teens. Even at the time I wasn't sure I liked them, but I could get them 10/$1.00 at the junk stores, and I was a voracious reader. Let's see...at 20 or more a week...almost every week...that's... Huh. Well, I probably read close to two thousand, between the ages of 13 and 15. When I say Harlequins I mean it as a generic description of modern romances. There were Mills & Boon and Emile Loring and all sorts of other brands mixed in. Aside from the occasional titillation of by-today's-standards-tame sex scenes, I think I read them trying to get a handle on relationships between men and women. My mother knew I was reading them, but never having read one herself, thought they were harmless junk food for the mind. Instead they were giving me brain cavities...OK, not a good image. But you can't read that much of anything and not see patterns emerge. Nowadays when those things happen they are called rape or kidnapping or spousal abuse. At the time it was "true love". Yes he'd done terrible things to her but 1) she deserved it for being a spoiled brat, (I think I've always hated Shakespeare from being forced to watch "Taming of the Shrew" several times) never mind that he was equally a jerk and not suffering; and 2) he realized at some point how much he loved her, so it was OK. I'm not even getting into the men in their 40's who fell in love with 17 year old girls. Some of them were blander and less creepy, but of course I don't remember them so distinctly. Mostly I ended up confused and suspicious of romance in real life.

My step-mother gave me access to her Heyers, which opened my eyes to really good writing and set a pretty high standard for guys I wanted to meet. The books were witty and amusing, with plots that had complexity and sub-plots, unlike the linear, formulaic books I'd been buying on my own.

The thing is, I like romance. I like happy endings, I like seeing people fall in love and try to understand each other, have misunderstandings and work things out. I just want them to be believable people who don't do unforgivable things to each other, at least not without addressing the issue and having some time spent apologising and groveling. "I love you" does not count.

Every so often over my (still voracious) reading career I've dipped a toe into the romance waters again. Out of several hundred that I've read since the Harlequin binge days, I have about 10 non-Heyer romances living on my shelves. Most of what I have are the one book the author wrote where the characters meet my standards for non-idiocy. One Karen Robards, two Jayne Anne Krentz, a couple Rosemary Edgehills...Those are still worth re-reading every so often. Several people on the Bujold list recommended Jenny Crusie and I made a mental note to check her out one of these days. Then Lois Bujold said she liked Crusie's writing, and since I respect Lois' writing so much, I rushed out and bought a Crusie. And I wasn't sorry. I love her tone of voice, the attitude the characters have, the plots, everything. "Welcome to Temptation" is my favorite book, but my favorite scene is in "Fast Women". "Faking It" is my 2nd favorite book, and, this shows you how good a writer she is, I even like her Harlequin romance, "Manhunting"!

The only thing I consistently don't like are the sex scenes. I don't mind the characters having sex, but I want them to close the bedroom door behind them and emerge later, flushed and relaxed and smiling. The thing is, if the the characters are so well written that they're like real people to me, I feel like a voyeur when I read them having sex. And if they're not like real people, then I don't care what they do. Crusie does funny, sexy scenes, they just make me squirm. So I read them through the first time, because there are plot points and character motivation in them sometimes, and then I can skim them on re-reading.

The absolutely best thing about Crusie is humor. Other than Georgette Heyer (and not a single other romance writer I've tried) nobody but Crusie can write a funny romance. At best there may be bits of humor sprinkled throughout the book, but overall the humor level doesn't get past a smile. I want an author who can make me giggle, chortle and guffaw. I also like that Crusie's heroines are usually in their 30's and 40's, have a job, and are not goddesses. They are self conscious about their appearance, worry about the future, have sarcastic thoughts, bad habits, are exasperated by their friends and families -- in short, they seem like real people; like real people I'd like to know.

They also don't have huge, deep secrets and tragic pasts. I flipped through a couple of books at Borders last night, authors that were recommended by romance readers who liked Crusie, and that seems to be the modern theme. Kidnap victims, child abuse victims, war veterans. I guess it's better than the old "taming" cliche, but, ugh. These people are too extreme. Crusie's characters are certainly eccentric, but only a little more than people you really know.

Right. Now my brain can drop that subject. Next time, matriarchies. I finished Martha Wells' "Gate of Gods" and Wen Spencer's "A Brother's Price" in the same week, and some ideas about matriarchies have been percolating through my brain.

2:56pm: Waiting, waiting, waiting...
Waiting eagerly for Martha Wells' Gate of the Gods to come out. I know the release date is Nov. 1, but the Borders bookstore near me frequently puts out books several days in advance of the actual release date. So I checked Sunday and last night; if it's not in tonight I'll try again Friday. Very eager to finish the series. I really hope Tremaine gets over her insecurity. It's been OK through two books, but I want to see her deal with it before the end of the series. And so good to see Nicholas. He's probably my favorite character in any of the Ile-Rien books after Element of Fire. Thomas is my favorite if I consider all the Ile-Rien books.

Still recovering from being on vacation. I've been back a week now and am over the jet lag, but still think wistfully of going to the beach, eating wonderful rillete and goat's cheese, polishing off a bottle of wine every night, napping in the afternoon, and board games with the family in the evening. Why yes, I was in the south of France, on the Mediterranean. How can you tell? <>

But my e-book reader really proved its worth. One of the reasons I chose the ebookwise 1150 was its battery life. I charged it up just before we left, read several hours each day for a week, plus several hours on the plane and homeward journey. It still has 6 hours of battery life on it - awesome! It's funny that a year ago I was a happy luddite, while now I have a cell phone (might get a 2nd for international travel), a digital camera, an mp3 player and an ebook reader! But I've made very careful choices when buying my electronics, and I feel all of them give me what I need, no extra bells and whistles, and are worth the money. Especially my ebook reader. Being able to carry around 60 books in the shape and weight equivalent of one paperback book is fabulous. The only hard part is finding many of the authors I like to re-read. Lois Bujold is one of the few authors whose books I love and are readily available electronically. By now I've bought 3 copies of almost every book she's written: paperback to start with, hardback when I started making enough money, and now digital to carry around on trips. Happy to do my part towards her royalties! But the state of ebook commerce is a rant for another entry.

I adore my new niece, too. I enjoyed my nephew, although it took a while for him to be human to me. When he was an infant I just felt the vague affection and protectiveness one feels for the very young and helpless, but impersonal somehow. The next time I saw him he was several months old, and could tell he was focusing on me, really seeing me. That was better. On the next visit he was just learning to talk, and I it was great to play with him and read books together. So when Rosalie was born, I kind of went "eh." That's nice, I'm happy my sister got the daughter she always wanted, but not the same excitement and anticipation as with Pip. But vacationing with my sister and her family when Rosie was 9 weeks old, I really fell in love with her. She's not a happy baby. If I had to sum her up in one word it would be "suspicious". She's constantly surveying the world through half open eyes, with an expression of deep distrust. I told my sister that Rosie was going to grow up to be a police inspector. Getting a smile out of her was an achievement; I only got 1 in the whole week, but I certainly value it. She seemed to like me. Not that she would show it by smiling and cooing, but if she was fretful she calmed quickly when I held her, and walked and sang to her. We went through a lot of verses of "The Ants Go Marching Two by Two". It was one of the few songs I knew with a simple repetetive melody. She also seemed to like "Oh Sinner Man", although as an old spiritual dealing with what the day of judgement is going to be like, maybe not the best content for a baby. An infant or an animal choosing to fall asleep on you is one of the most flattering things in the world. There's no intellect or calculation involved, no ulterior motives. Just something in you makes them happy and comfortable and trusting. Pip was in the throes of the terrible two's. Not fair to call him a brat, but exasperating to deal with. Since I'm the aunt I stayed out of it when he got cranky, and took Rosie so my sister could deal with her son.

I came back from vacation determined as usual to find a new job with more vacation. I'm looking for at least 4 weeks of vacation on my next job, even if I have to take a pay cut. Search going on now.

My other sister has just passed her first trimester, so we're all relaxing slightly. She's miscarried before, but never got this far. Fingers crossed for the next 6 months.

11:09am: Katrina & Rita - Thelma & Louise?
Well, I finally did post my housing offer, having a panic attack the second after I hit the send button. Now it seems silly, since nobody has been in touch. But it is a sincere offer, and I'm glad I decided to do it. I can see, though, that a cold, New England winter is probably not terribly attractive to someone from the more temperate climes, even if I can promise that we're very unlikely to get a hurricane.

Not only the storm, but the response has also shown up the class divide. I don't think it's racism per se; I don't think a bunch of white people sat in a room and said "Oh, let's let all the black people drown". It's money. I do think there were assumptions made about how people could evacuate and fend for themselves that relied on people having independent transportation, credit cards, etc.

Then a few days after I posted the room, it struck me that the class divide was really evident again. People all over the country, like me, wanted to help. If you're far away, like me, you can't load up your car and drive supplies down, or go to a shelter and pick up someone to take in. Sure we made donations, but we wanted to do more, so we posted offers on the internet. Again, if you have a computer, or know how to get access to one and are used to using the internet, information was much more accessible. You could post to lists to let people know you were OK, you could get news on the hurricane and aftermath, you could read what the president, governor and mayor were saying, you could hook up with people from all over the country who wanted to help you.

But what if you didn't have that access, and your information comes only from what other people on the street are saying, and you don't know where to go for help, or that offers were out there?

So while I think the internet has greatly enabled individuals, whether offering or needing help, it's enabling the same people who had some resources in the first place. And still missing the same people who didn't. Definitely better to help some than none, but it seems like the most desperate group keeps getting passed over, and I don't know how that should be fixed.

11:02am: Katrina, what else?
I'm sitting in the safety of an air conditioned office in Connecticut, appreciating my security and goofing off a little by posting at work. I've been checking the CNN and NOLA websites 10 times a day since Katrina struck, just stunned by what's happening in New Orleans. Now is the time for rescue, not fault finding, but I've got to say I'm ashamed of how our people are dying in this disaster. It's not like the WTC, something that almost nobody foresaw. If you go to the nola website there are articles about the levees and hurricane vulnerabilities, undated but obviously written well before the hurricane struck. Some of the disaster scenarios are eerily prescient. So if they could see that, why couldn't somebody plan for things like communications breakdowns? I've heard the military rule that no plan survives contact with the enemy, but wouldn't you think someone would say "hmm, no electricity, can't recharge radios, guess that might hamper the police"? And the claims that they didn't know there were thousands at the convention center, when I knew that two days ago, just from the CNN website.

I've made my Red Cross donation, and another to the LA SPCA, because animals have even less control over their situation than people do. About to write another check to help 2 people from the vintage dance community who survived but lost everything. This one's not tax deductible, but I always like it when I know the money is going directly to a person who really needs it.

Struggling with whether to make a different kind of donation: should I offer to take a displaced person? I might very well never be taken up on it; CT is a long way from these people. I want to do something tangible, meaningful, besides just write a check, but I'm not trained in any kind of medical or rescue work. I have a 3 bedroom condo, which gives me a bedroom, library and sewing room. Comfortable, even luxurious for 1 person and 3 cats. Surely I could give up a room to someone who has lost everything? I've done volunteer work, and know the bone-deep satisfaction that comes of knowing you have done something that has truly changed someone else's life for the better. In that case, though, all I gave up was time, a few hours a week for 4 years teaching English to immigrants. This would be someone in my house. No, in my home. How long would they be there? A month, three, six? What if they won't leave, or steal my belongings, or hurt my cats? It's not just a room. There's the implication that they would need help with getting a job, transportation, everything in life. Anybody going through that is going to have emotional problems. I'm not a big people person anyway - I have a few close friends, but I don't get heavily involved in the lives of everyone I know. This is a much bigger commitment than just crash space. And yet, if I don't reach out, don't take risks to help, do I deserve to call myself a citizen, and claim I care about them? But this is my home. I've already given more money than I can easily afford. But compared to someone who has the clothes on their back and maybe a plastic bag with a change of underwear, and nothing else, I'm rich. I have a job and a secure place to live.

I still don't know.

10:44am: Rolf Shellhammer 1961-2005
I can't believe it's almost a month since Rolf died. I came away from his memorial service with a determination to change some things in my life; have I started any of them? Well not yet. My goal was to update my resume by the end of August. I still have a few days left. My determination to get another job hasn't flagged, and I have been leaving work on time, and leaving work at work. I feel so bad for Uncle Ken. His mother, wife, and only child all gone in 7 months. At least he got to say goodbye to Aunt Nancy.

I have lots of good memories of Rolf. Now, of course, I wish I'd followed up on my impulse to call him in July. Weirdly, Aunt Nancy's funeral in February was one of the best times we spent together. Maybe because we're almost the same age, so we tended to hang out while the older generation got together. But in the evening, after the boat ride when we scattered her ashes in San Diego Bay, everyone else kind of sat around the living room, stunned or lethargic or exhausted. I felt twitchy, energy needing an outlet, and decided to take a walk. Rolf came with me, and we went about 5 miles, through town, down to the beach and along the shore. Just chatting, prompted by things we saw in store windows or following another train of thought. It was easy to talk about feelings, or silly things, or nothing at all. We walked and talked for about an hour and a half, then came back. Everyone else had gone to bed, and we each had a couch in the living room, so we made up our beds and turned out the light. As we lay there in the dark, talking softly across the room, it was easy to continue the conversation. We laughed, got sad, quiet, then talked some more. Eventually we must have slept. I left the next day, and Rolf and I chatted on the phone and by email much more often than we had in the past. I'm sorry it wasn't more, but I'm really glad he sent me an email in July, about how much he cared for me, and I replied.

His service was amazing. We heard from so many people how much of he'd meant to them. Not just family and friends, but co-workers, and even customers. We ran out of time, or there would have been even more people getting up. Would there be standing room only at my funeral if I dropped dead today? Huh, not likely. I'm not a naturally gregarious person, but Rolf loved being around people. He loved helping and teaching, and I'm still so sad that he won't be doing it for the next 40 years, the way I always assumed he would. I think it was the epilepsy that killed him, but I guess there's really no way to know.

When Papa called me at work with the news, I went home early. As I got in the car, the song on the radio was the theme from the movie Titanic, Celine Dion singing about the heart going on. It seemed so appropriate for Rolf, and now I'll always think of him when I hear it.

2:10pm: author specialties and when fans annoy
I've been thinking about my favorite authors. They can all write, plot, and create cool characters, but at least two I can think of right now have somthing really special that appeals to me.

Lois Bujold writes fabulous, romantic dialog in her Chalion books. Some in the Vorkosigan books, but I really notice it in the fantasy. The way the men speak to and about the women they love is so poetic, tender and beautiful that I would melt into a little puddle if a man spoke to me in real life that way.

Martha Wells does the best sarcasm of any writer I can think of. Many authors do the grand passions - love, lust, hate, terror, righteousness, etc. Fewer do the milder emotions that real people actually feel day to day - amusement, annoyance, boredom, curiosity. One of the reasons I like her books and find her characters plausible is that they don't spend their lives in a constant state of high emotion. They get tired and cranky, exasperated and confused, and still manage to be heroic. But getting back to the sarcasm - she just does it amazingly well. Her characters express more romance and affection with sarcasm than most authors manage with all the billing and cooing in the world. And her heroines are frequently ruthless. In fact I'm chomping at the bit to read Gate of the Gods; I'm so ready for Tremaine to stop getting wound up about Ander and just shove him down a flight of stairs, or something.

And getting back to authors for a minute, why do fans have this compulsion to get authors to acknowledge them? I was at a con a few weeks ago with a well known author, of whom I'm a fan. In fact I was rooming with other fans, and I wanted to cringe and dis-associate myself from them a few times. Giving the author a personal gift (jewelry) in a public presentation seemed to be so much more about the fan than the author. Maybe I'm just projecting my own version of respect, but we're not personal friends with her; just because we love her books doesn't mean we know her. I've seen this author at cons 5 times in the last 2 years (I said I was a fan!), and I have to admire her courtesy towards everyone. As Terry Pratchett says of Vimes' wife, she could accept a dead rat graciously. But does she really like it?

2:13pm: Does character development ruin fun?
I'm talking about fictional characters, that is. Over the last couple months I've either joined in or lurked about during discussions of the growth of characters over several novels. These are authors on my must-read list: Lois Bujold, Terry Pratchett and Steven Brust. I admire their writing and sense of humor.

It occurred to me that all three have major characters whom we see going through significant phases in their life, and becoming more complex as they progress through various tribulations. I'm thinking specifically of Miles Vorkosigan, Sam Vimes and Vlad Taltos. As they survived the adventures their authors put them through, they became more complex, nuanced, subtle. I'm not sorry about that. But while they gained in character development, they're not as fun as they were in the beginning.

It's not that there's no humor, but some of the...silliness? lightheartedness? is gone. I've enjoyed seeing Miles grow up; but every so often wish we could go back to the days when he was a teenager frantically bluffing his way through the mercenary fleets. Same with Vlad - how about a few more books from earlier in his life, when he was still an assassin, before he got qualms? And Sam Vimes, well, he thinks now, doesn't just react, and the humor is more sophisticated, less slapstick. More ironic smiles, less guffaws.