"The rememberers of noons." I like that. It's Ray Bradbury and his wonderful phrases and words that keeps the reader interested in this book. This is"The rememberers of noons." I like that. It's Ray Bradbury and his wonderful phrases and words that keeps the reader interested in this book. This is pure October (albeit I chose summer to read it) with wraiths and ghosts and vampires and werewolves and mummies all combining into one big somewhat happy family.
What ambience is there? Are we kin to autumn rains?
As the cover of the book illustrates (by the great Charles Addams), the centre of this book is a house, a huge house, in midwest America. It is the home of a strange family which is experiencing a reunion with members from around the world. These are not humans so it doesn't matter if there aren't enough beds, because cellar coffins and empty chimneys will do just fine.
There must be a mouse in every warren, a cricket on every hearth, smoke in the multitudinous chimneys, and creatures, almost human, icing every bed.
Somehow the parents managed to adopt a human child, Timothy, who wants very much to be a part of this strange family. The boy is much treasured by his aunts and uncles and cousins and especially by his ancient grandmere, she who was born into death two thousand years before Jesus and the crown of thorns. It is Timothy who helps to save the family when echoing whiffs of angry villagers with torches start their march.
Are we shadows on a ruined wall? Are we dusts shaken in sneezes from angel tombstones with broken wings?
It took me a bit to get into this, perhaps because this wasn't written as one novel but as a series of magazine stories throughout Bradbury's life, all woven together for publication in 2000. Timothy the boy is not strong enough to keep the level of interest high, but it all comes together toward the end. I am one of those folks who respect cemeteries in the belief that someone must visit the forgotten. That's what this book reminds me of, the wisp of remembrance we all have before our own time comes. Bradbury even captures the spirits who lurk behind squeaky doors.
While oils glistened the gates and doors of the world, there was always one door, one hinge, where I lodged for a night, a year, or a mortal lifetime. Put not butter, nor grease, nor bacon-rind upon my resting places.
Pure Bradbury. Since he was "raised by libraries", I have engaged upon visiting the local libraries more often in memory of he who could write.
Book Season = Autumn (October wings and fiery eyes)...more
I have always wanted to be brilliant. So this was the book I chose to make myself brilliant. Not super. Not smart. Not nerdy. Just brilliant.
Alas, itI have always wanted to be brilliant. So this was the book I chose to make myself brilliant. Not super. Not smart. Not nerdy. Just brilliant.
Alas, it didn't work. It's taken me years (yes, literally years) to get through this tome. If you asked me what it is all about, I couldn't tell you, Alfie. I remain blitheringly stupid. That's why they make British baking shows, for dunces such as I.
Tough read. This should be part of a Marines-type training course for readers. Much admiration for those who understand whatever the bloody hell it's telling you.
The Mondavi family is well known as one of the first California wine empires and this book covers their beginnings from the moment founder Cesare MondThe Mondavi family is well known as one of the first California wine empires and this book covers their beginnings from the moment founder Cesare Mondavi arrived at Ellis Island in the early 1900s to the downfall of the empire.
While this is basically a biography of the members of the Mondavi family, it is also instructional in describing the history of wine in California. For me, that was really the most interesting part of the book. I picked this up in the hopes that it would be an involving picture of why a billion dollar company was torn asunder by family feuding and hubris. While the research was certainly there, I just never got my head wrapped around any of the family, as none of them exactly garnered respect, apart from the founders.
But it was interesting to read about grape production versus wine-making and the importance of California's emergence into elite wine-making, so it wasn't a complete waste. Just not very innervating.
Although the title states this should be about Julius Caesar, it's about Brutus and Cassius on one side andAmbition! Envy! Guilt! Revenge! I love it!
Although the title states this should be about Julius Caesar, it's about Brutus and Cassius on one side and Antony and Octavius on the other side. Trust not one of them. We barely get a whiff of the great JC before he is cruelly assassinated and the play sways between Old World Idealism (Brutus) and New World Pragmatism (Octavius).
But hollow men, like horses hot at hand, Make gallant show and promise of their mettle; But when they should endure the bloody spur, They fall their crests, and, like deceitful jades, Sink in the trial.
It took a gang to kill Caesar, cowards one and all. Unlike most readers, I have little sympathy for Brutus who always appears as a weakling to me. He falls in with the others, when a man of such "integrity" should have turned the other cheek. Cato the Younger, well, Brutus was not. Dude was WEAK!
For me, the alliance of Antony and Octavius, is by far the more intriguing of the character interplays. Neither man likes the other, but they unite against the men who killed their friend and uncle. Knowing that the future will do a u-turn and make these two men enemies, makes the storytelling even better. Antony is such an enigma...a man who talks his way out of sure death (Cassius wanted him killed with Caesar) and then uses that eloquent tongue to turn the populace against Brutus. Rugged and brave, he is also dissolute, a flawed hero. Compare him to the android-ish Octavius, who doesn't let feelings hinder his own future progress but has the unerring ability to nick Antony when needed, such as realizing Antony's hypocrisy when discussing Lepidus.