A random observation

Back in July, we had in Buffalo a fairly long string of days that were cooler than usual, and as a rule it never really got sweltering during the summer. The general consensus seemed to be that the summer’s weather sucked, and one sentiment I heard a lot went along the lines of: “Gee, what a cold summer. Global warming my ass!”

Flash forward to now, when we’ve had a November that’s been warmer than any I or anyone else can remember. Temps have been consistently above 50 degrees, with frequent trips into the 60s, for several weeks now and according to the weather reports, this pattern is unlikely to change anytime in the next week. Where snow at some point in October is usually the norm here, it has yet to snow at all this year in Buffalo.

And yet I’ve not heard a single person say anything to the effect of this extended warm spell being a positive indicator of global warming. I find that interesting.

(Of course, short term local weather trends do not actually indicate anything one way or the other about global warming, but the general psychology is interesting here.)

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Something for Thursday

Here’s a bit of film music from quite recently. It’s from the film Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, and it scores a scene where Harry Potter and a number of the kids at Hogwarts decide that their professors aren’t doing enough to train them against the Dark Arts, and that therefore they should undertake such training themselves, with Harry himself teaching them. Much of the music in the Potter films tends to be the kind of thing you’d expect from movies about wizards and magic and whatnot, especially when most of the themes in the series sprang from the pen of John Williams, who scored the first three films. But this one, the fifth, was scored by Nicholas Hopper, who took a decidedly different approach, as we can hear in this cue. It’s not heavy or portentous at all; in fact, it’s some of the most optimistic music written in the whole series. Here’s “Dumbledore’s Army”.

(This is actually a recreation of the cue by a person using a synthesizer, but it’s really pretty amazingly close in sound to the original composition for orchestra, and the music’s forward-looking nature really comes through.)

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Of Tumbling Walls

I don’t remember much about the fall of the Berlin Wall. That is to say, I remember nothing about it.

The event happened when I was barely two months into my freshman year of college. I was trying to focus on studies that were harder than anything I’d known before; I was a member of three musical ensembles and had to practice at least two hours a day anyway; neither I nor my college roommate brought a teevee, so we had none in our room that whole year; I was probably more focused on some girl — there was a blonde pianist I quite fancied at first — and, well, all of the above. So I had only the vaguest notion that the general feeling that had been accruing through the late 80s — that Communism was quickly approaching the end of its shelf-life, aided along by the efforts of Gorbachev — was about to come to a head.

I only knew that the Wall had come down when I went to my first class the morning after, and heard one of my classmates literally say to someone else, “Hey, did you see the news? The Berlin Wall fell.” And for a moment, I remember thinking briefly that it had toppled of its own accord, as if there had been an earthquake or something. The magnitude of the human accomplishment was obvious, though, almost immediately. The feeling that eventually settled in was that it was pretty surreal. It felt as if one night, the world was in its natural state, with two Germany’s and two Berlins, and the next night, that era was over, just like that. No long periods of summit meetings, no signings of treaties to take effect in five years. Just a bunch of people, at long last taking their hammers and crowbars and whatever else they could grab to that immense series of concrete slabs so they could finally start chipping it away.

Anyway, that was my sense of what was going on.

I wonder whatever became of that blonde piano player, by the way….

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In other news, my chips-and-dip consumption is WAY down

Readers may remember that toward the end of the 2008 NFL season, I decided that watching the Buffalo Bills consistently lose games and look boring in doing so had lost its appeal to a sufficient degree that I decided to just plain stop watching them. Sunday afternoons became a lot more pleasant once I realized that devoting three hours each week to an activity that wasn’t bringing me much pleasure wasn’t that good an idea. I was prepared to do the same this season, but in the offseason, the Bills did something that can now been seen for what it was: a move designed to tempt fans like me back into the fold. That was, of course, the signing of wide receiver Terrell Owens.

And yes, it worked. I watched the Bills for the first handful of games this year, even though it was obvious that aside from his signing, the team hadn’t actually gotten any better. At all. Now, in the first four games, they only won one contest, a home game against Tampa Bay, a team that is in a full-bore rebuilding youth movement phase. But the games they lost were to teams that are pretty good: New England, New Orleans, and defending division champ Miami. But aside from the New England game, which they played pretty well in before losing when someone made a really bad fumble late in the game that led to the Patriots’ winning points, the Bills tended to look flatter and flatter each time out, and the offense specifically looked worse and worse, despite the presence of T.O. For me the last straw came when the Bills lost at home to the Cleveland Browns — one of the league’s worst teams right now — by the thrilling score of 6-3. That’s when I said, the hell with it, T.O. or no T.O. I spent the next three Sundays watching the Spiderman movies with The Daughter at the time when the Bills were playing.

They were 2-1 in those games, but I don’t really care. I didn’t miss watching football at all, and I didn’t miss it this week either (during which the Bills were on their bye week). The Bills have managed, I think, to drive the fandom out of me at long last. Oh well. A Super Bowl win would have been nice, and who knows — maybe in a few years when they’re a year or two into their new location (either Los Angeles or Toronto, I’m thinking), they’ll manage a title in the Big Game.

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Sentential Links #188

Linkage of the week:

:: Very few phrases fill me with dread and/or irritation as the response, “Oh, it’s EASY!” And it bugs me on two separate but related levels.

:: I really do believe that there are blessings in ALL my experiences. Some float right up to the surface, like those breaching whales and leaping dolphins. Others are harder to identify. But if I look deep, they are always there.

:: Walking into the San Antonio Airport this afternoon I noticed that there was a decal next to the door that said “Threat Level: Orange”. What the hell does it mean that this is apparently a sufficiently permanent state of affairs to merit a sticker on the door? (Interesting that nowadays we never hear about “Threat Levels”, like we did back in the day….)

:: At least half of all writing involves just sitting and staring into space. Letting your brain out to hunt down ideas, bringing them back all warm and bloody between its teeth. (For me, it also involves training my brain to recognize ideas when they float by, snatch them up, and kill them.)

:: When I was a kid I didn’t pay any attention at all to who wrote the songs. (Me either, with the effect that I would often — and still do — find that when discussing contemporary song, I can’t often keep up because I often don’t know artists or titles, but when I hear the song in question, I think, “Oh yeah, I know that one.” Of course, by that point, the conversation is long over.)

:: Do you believe in inspired writing? Has it ever happened to you? A wave of insights, images, or thoughts so profound you must stop at once, grab a pen, and paper in hopes to capture it before it’s gone. (I know the feeling well.)

:: I used to live in a town called Sandpoint. It was a little ski town in the northern tip of Idaho and it was beautiful. (I just read a book by the woman who writes this blog, Jenna Woginrich, titled Made from Scratch. I’ll blog about that book soon — short version is that I liked it a lot — but what caught my eye is that she wrote it when she lived in Sandpoint, ID. That’s where my future in-laws lived when I first started dating The Wife, way back when; in fact, my brother-in-law still lives up there. It really is a very beautiful place. I wouldn’t want to live there, myself — I find the distances between places in the West a bit daunting — but I do wish we could get out there more than we do.)

:: Today, fifteen years after I first saw it, I believe “Hoop Dreams” is the great American documentary. No other documentary has ever touched me more deeply. It was relevant then, and today, as inner city neighborhoods sink deeper into the despair of children murdering children, it is more relevant. (Wow, I really need to watch Hoop Dreams one of these days. I never saw it, but I was a faithful viewer of Siskel and Ebert back when the film came out, and during the controversy when despite the nearly universal acclaim that was heaped upon it, the Academy failed to give it any Oscar recognition whatsoever. The film wasn’t even nominated for anything, despite the fact that many felt that it was not just the best documentary that year, but a serious contender for the best picture, period.)

More next week!

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Under Heaven: the cover revealed!

Via BrightWeavings.com, I see that the cover art for the forthcoming new novel by Guy Gavriel Kay, Under Heaven, has been revealed. Here’s what American and Canadian readers will see:

The British art can be seen here. I prefer the American/Canadian version; the people on the British cover are far too photographic for my tastes.

The book comes out in April, so I still have time to get back to my re-read of all of GGK’s books….

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Bill Denbrough Beats the Devil (III)

I’m not the biggest Stephen King fan in the world. I find that he can be hit or miss, which is probably to be expected of a writer so prolific as he. I haven’t read everything of his; not even close. I’ve read some stuff of his that I liked a good amount (Salem’s Lot), some stuff that I enjoyed a bit less but still liked just fine (Carrie), some stuff that I outright bounced off (Dreamcatcher), and a range of reactions thereof. But I have also read a good deal of his work that just blows me away (The Stand, numerous short works of his). I’ve often seen King’s It cited as one of his best and scariest novels, but I’d never read it until just a short while ago. And wouldn’t you know: it’s one of his best and scariest novels. It’s also, in my opinion, a great novel.

The book opens with a scene of fairly shocking violence as a small child is killed in the town of Derry, Maine by something that lives in the sewer. It calls to little George Denbrough as he is floating his newspaper boat down the street gutters which are swollen with rain; it appears to him as a clown dwelling within the sewer grate, and when it beckons to him with the promise of cotton candy, the clown – named Pennywise – grabs George’s arm and pulls on it, pulls harder and harder, until it rips free and little George dies. Thus begins Pennywise’s reign of terror in Derry in 1957, which eventually turns out to be a cyclical event; Pennywise shows up every 28 years or so for a fresh round of violent killings. Meanwhile Derry goes on, as it always has – a sad town where life just kind of grinds on and on, until the grinding of the decades is punctuated by the murderous awakening of the malevolent clown that lives in its sewers.

The main characters in the book are a group of teenage children, and the same children as adults, in 1985 – twenty-seven years after the 1957 arise of Pennywise, and therefore on the cusp of the new one. One of the kids is little George’s older brother, Bill, and as the summer of 1957 begins, none of them knows each other well at all, but circumstances bring them together – circumstances like Pennywise and the fact that they have each been targeted by the local bully, a boy named Henry who is in his own way as malevolent as Pennywise himself, who is actually the embodiment of something almost eternal. And in 1985, the kids – now adults – are brought together again, back to Derry, to do battle with Pennywise again. The novel shifts back and forth between these two timeframes, and King does this with such amazing facility that it is actually two stories unfolding at the same time. The 1957 parts never once feel like mere flashback, even though we know that by definition the characters alive in the 1985 chapters of the book must therefore survive the 1957 parts. It’s a testament to King’s skill that instead of grinding through large segments of the book given over to flashback, we instead sense that we’re following two stories that happen to befall the same group of people, many years apart.

King’s sense of pacing is pretty remarkable, given how long this book is. Even more impressive, though, is King’s ability to create a number of characters, this circle of friends bound by grim destiny, who are all vivid and real. Ultimately this is why the horror in the book works, and why It is such a scary read. It’s not all about ratcheting up the gore quotient; it’s about depicting horrible things befalling people we care about. But more than that, King’s gift for not only creating people we care about but also for people who genuinely feel like real people, and who respond to things in a very real way. This is King’s great strength as a writer, and it’s on tremendous display here. Not only are we sympathetic to Bill and Eddie and Beverly and Ben and the others, but we see them react to events in ways that we might well react ourselves if we found ourselves confronted by the kinds of horror that confront them in It.

That’s another of King’s great strengths: his knowledge that there are, in fact, many different kinds of horror. The scary stuff in It comes in a wide range of types, and not all of them are supernatural. In fact, some of the scariest events in King’s book don’t involve anything supernatural at all: they are the terrors we all remember (or maybe only some of us remember) from being the kid singled out by the school bully for continual “special treatment”. There is more than one way to scare a reader, and King at his best always does. In It, King creates for us a group of outcast children who feel like outcast children and who suffer all the normal horrors that many outcast children face, even before they are confronted by the horrible clown who lives in the sewers of Derry.

A word about the setting: Derry is a fictional city in Maine, which is a setting used by King in a number of other works. It’s not, as far as I know, a “redressed” version of a real place, but a creation from King’s viewpoint of the kind of city you’d find in Maine — if that city happened to be the scene of numerous supernatural horrors throughout its history. Several times in It, it is suggested that the kids aren’t just battling a demonic clown, but some kind of darkness in the very spirit of Derry itself. King portrays Derry as an organic being all its own, with a long — and very dark — history that we learn along the way. The book, therefore, spins three stories together: our child heroes in 1958, their adult exploits in 1985, and the long dark travails of Derry itself.

And yes, this book is scary. There is some extremely disturbing imagery throughout the book, and particularly so in the last 150 pages or so, when the tales in both timelines start plowing toward their respective conclusions. The ending is moving, satisfying, and poignant. It is amazing. If you have any love for the horror genre at all, read it.

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The official site of Kelly Sedinger: Reader, writer, photographer, and dreamer

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