At the start of the sixth annual Tolkien Lecture on Fantasy Literature author V.E. Schwab described how a co-panelist stated that J.R.R. Tolkien’s novels were required reading for anyone venturing into the world of fantasy – both as a writer and a reader. In response Schwab,
“…told the man on the panel I had never read Tolkien, and he looked at me not with derision exactly, but with such open astonishment, as if wondering how I found my way into that chair, onto that panel, into the building, onto the pages of books, without him. And I simply said, “I found another door.”
That simple statement has been tumbling about my head for a number of days as I tried to remember what served as my entree into the world of books and reading. I knew what pushed me towards the fantasy genre, but there was no singular book that made me realize that I valued and loved the written word.
However, even though the actual door was a long-faded memory, I will never forget the architect: my mother. Continue reading “On Doorways and the Love of Libraries”
I spent the weekend in paradise.
Well. My version of paradise, despite the cool torrents of rain sweeping through for the fifth day in a row, or the Virginia humidity the day after, rising up from the lush, textured, tops of trees that hid the flowing James River.
How do you tell the history of a place throughout time that seamlessly integrates other forms of expression?
We can tell the basic story of the past — the who, what, when, where, and why, but how can we account for a story where human expression and connections to those events become as important as the events being described. Equally critical — are the digital tools, and methods we can use to communicate these ideas in our work to tell the full American story.
Today is February 20, 2018. Hello world.
I wish I had a great excuse. A reason why this post (that no one is really looking for but me) is only going up today.
There are a lot of good reasons to put the blame on. On being too busy. On the state of the world. On the unexpected. On letting fear of change effect the way I feel, think, act. On a surprising lack of will power. On procrastination. On having nothing to say.
That’s all a lie.
But also all true.
We’ve seen it before. “Punch it Chewie,” “No! We’re not interested in the hyperdrive on the Millenium Falcon, it’s fixed!,” the need for a hyperspace generator from Watto. Hyperspace. Lightspeed. It’s essential in nature, a basic concept allowing (or failing to allow) our travelers in a galaxy far, far, away to reach, depart, and journey to new destinations and worlds of wonder.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about The Last Jedi until fifteen minutes in the middle of the film.