Everything Groovy
Now at last, the new cover for A Season in Eden makes its debut right here:
So that's it on the new covers for now--at least until I decide they should be changed again.
For all of you who were waiting for my pithy and illuminating thoughts about my experience at Comic Con, here it is in a nutshell: Interesting.
I'm a geek from way back--I mean, I saw Star Wars 35 times at theaters (paying for it, no less. This was before VCRs or DVDs, I hate to admit. As my daughter said to me: Did you have refrigerators?). I used to read comic books and I've obsessed about Batman. I've been known to read a bit of fan fiction now and then. I read every one of Doc Jensen's columns at Entertainment Weekly obsessing about the philosophy of Lost. These people at Comic Con have nothing on me. And actually, that was the fun part. People in costumes and people completely geeking out in true fanboy-and-girl fashion at the thought of meeting their cult heroes, my daughter included. I mean, I felt sort of at home. While my daughter was busy worrying that I was somehow going to embarrass her beyond all comprehension or recovery (doing what, I wonder? Sprouting wings and prophesizing the coming Rapture? Hey, I refrained from wearing my Frodo Lives hat--what more does she want?), I was busy taking in the scenery. A few Katnisses, stormtroopers, Darth Vaders, Pokeman figures and wizards, one HitGirl, a bunch of people wearing Firefly hats, a couple of Jedi knights and a pirate or two. There were a lot of booths selling comic books and many people who seem to feel that deodorant is merely advisory (so THIS is what the 19th Century smelled like!), but the most lingering and overwhelming impression I had was of lines. Long, long, long lines of people waiting to pay $40 for an autograph or more for a photograph with their favorite star (I tell you, I am in the wrong business). My legs were so sore and tired by the end of it I could barely stand. But it was fun and fascinating, and I'd love to go to one of the bigger ones someday.
Then came a week off--which I have not taken for longer than I care to remember--just to prepare for Passover and Easter, which happened to be ONE day apart this year. So I no sooner recover from gorging on Matzo ball soup and Gefilte fish and macarons with salted caramel filling (okay, mostly those), then I have to turn around and gorge on ham, deviled eggs, coconut cake, frosted jello (a midwestern specialty, attendant at every family reunion and potluck), and Cadbury mini eggs (okay, mostly those). It may take me a year to recover. I don't mind it when the two celebrations are at least a week apart. But this year was seriously overdoing it. I will be taking up my complaints with the lunar calendar--please give me at least seven years before I have to endure such a thing again.
And now ... reading Henry James' The Wings of the Dove, which has curiously escaped my reading list before now. So far, I'm finding it much like Portrait of a Lady, alternately like swimming through half-set jello (obviously a recurring theme today) and fascinating. We'll see how it turns out, but some of these characterizations are completely stunning once one gets past his "late period" style, which I'm not totally a fan of. I am finding it interesting that one of my favorite of James' works is one that wasn't at all popular when he wrote it: The Bostonians. I wonder what that means, if anything. Recently, I very much enjoyed The Aspern Papers and The Turn of the Screw, and Italian Hours, which isn't a novel but a travel guide, and I was feeling very confident in my ability to approach a longer work of his again, which just shows you how foolish I can be. I'll let you know.
Next week I'll begin working on the edit for the newest book, which is tentatively scheduled to be published in early December of this year, and in the meantime, I've started something new which I'm really, really enjoying. There's still plenty of time for it to fall apart completely (which, believe me, it will), but just now I'm possessed with that feeling I always have when embarking upon a new project: hopeful and passionate, which are always good things to feel, particularly with the coming of spring--which I'm also just now starting to feel in my little corner of the world.
And oh ... Game of Thrones ... how breathless you leave me...
So that's it on the new covers for now--at least until I decide they should be changed again.
For all of you who were waiting for my pithy and illuminating thoughts about my experience at Comic Con, here it is in a nutshell: Interesting.
I'm a geek from way back--I mean, I saw Star Wars 35 times at theaters (paying for it, no less. This was before VCRs or DVDs, I hate to admit. As my daughter said to me: Did you have refrigerators?). I used to read comic books and I've obsessed about Batman. I've been known to read a bit of fan fiction now and then. I read every one of Doc Jensen's columns at Entertainment Weekly obsessing about the philosophy of Lost. These people at Comic Con have nothing on me. And actually, that was the fun part. People in costumes and people completely geeking out in true fanboy-and-girl fashion at the thought of meeting their cult heroes, my daughter included. I mean, I felt sort of at home. While my daughter was busy worrying that I was somehow going to embarrass her beyond all comprehension or recovery (doing what, I wonder? Sprouting wings and prophesizing the coming Rapture? Hey, I refrained from wearing my Frodo Lives hat--what more does she want?), I was busy taking in the scenery. A few Katnisses, stormtroopers, Darth Vaders, Pokeman figures and wizards, one HitGirl, a bunch of people wearing Firefly hats, a couple of Jedi knights and a pirate or two. There were a lot of booths selling comic books and many people who seem to feel that deodorant is merely advisory (so THIS is what the 19th Century smelled like!), but the most lingering and overwhelming impression I had was of lines. Long, long, long lines of people waiting to pay $40 for an autograph or more for a photograph with their favorite star (I tell you, I am in the wrong business). My legs were so sore and tired by the end of it I could barely stand. But it was fun and fascinating, and I'd love to go to one of the bigger ones someday.
Then came a week off--which I have not taken for longer than I care to remember--just to prepare for Passover and Easter, which happened to be ONE day apart this year. So I no sooner recover from gorging on Matzo ball soup and Gefilte fish and macarons with salted caramel filling (okay, mostly those), then I have to turn around and gorge on ham, deviled eggs, coconut cake, frosted jello (a midwestern specialty, attendant at every family reunion and potluck), and Cadbury mini eggs (okay, mostly those). It may take me a year to recover. I don't mind it when the two celebrations are at least a week apart. But this year was seriously overdoing it. I will be taking up my complaints with the lunar calendar--please give me at least seven years before I have to endure such a thing again.
And now ... reading Henry James' The Wings of the Dove, which has curiously escaped my reading list before now. So far, I'm finding it much like Portrait of a Lady, alternately like swimming through half-set jello (obviously a recurring theme today) and fascinating. We'll see how it turns out, but some of these characterizations are completely stunning once one gets past his "late period" style, which I'm not totally a fan of. I am finding it interesting that one of my favorite of James' works is one that wasn't at all popular when he wrote it: The Bostonians. I wonder what that means, if anything. Recently, I very much enjoyed The Aspern Papers and The Turn of the Screw, and Italian Hours, which isn't a novel but a travel guide, and I was feeling very confident in my ability to approach a longer work of his again, which just shows you how foolish I can be. I'll let you know.
Next week I'll begin working on the edit for the newest book, which is tentatively scheduled to be published in early December of this year, and in the meantime, I've started something new which I'm really, really enjoying. There's still plenty of time for it to fall apart completely (which, believe me, it will), but just now I'm possessed with that feeling I always have when embarking upon a new project: hopeful and passionate, which are always good things to feel, particularly with the coming of spring--which I'm also just now starting to feel in my little corner of the world.
And oh ... Game of Thrones ... how breathless you leave me...
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