C's bookshelf: read

The Peculiar
Maggot Moon
The City and the City
The Road
A Certain Slant of Light
The Muses Among Us: Eloquent Listening and Other Pleasures of the Writer's Craft
Persepolis: The Story of a Childhood
Brown Girl in the Ring
Well Wished
The Innkeeper's Song
Understanding Comics: The Invisible Art
American Indian Myths and Legends
The Left Hand of Darkness
The Return of the King
The Fellowship of the Ring
The Two Towers

C S Peterson's favorite books »

Monday, March 3, 2014

It’s Monday - What are you reading? Housekeeping

I’ve been reading Housekeeping by Marilynne Robinson
It is a poem of a book devastating and beautiful, about life and loss and beauty. It has brought me to tears more than once. In Idaho, in the town of Fingerbone, two little girls grow up. Abandoned by their parents, they are raised first by their mystified grandmother, then by two dithering maiden great-aunts and finally by their mother’s transient sister who is incapable of housekeeping in a life so fragile and awash in the waters of memory. 

I’m also reading the first Harry Potter with my youngest son, who is ten. A different genre, of course, but he is also an orphan and threatened by wasting away, looking at his lost parents in a mirror.

This has got me to thinking - how many protagonists are orphans? I’ve counted quite a few. Why do you think this is?

Sunday, March 2, 2014

Working on One Sentence in My Book

The flame haired man turned into a raven
His flaming hair sprouted black feathers
The flames of his hair shot into feathers of black
His head sprouted sable feathers that gleamed blue and green
sheen, light scattered, reflected blue, in the dim light, gleamed...
Arrrg! (I will not look at facebook, I will not look at facebook)
His flaming hair congealed into feathers
Hmm...potential, like blood? sour milk? He is a bad guy...I like the word purple
zersflj09r 23*& G (Molly the cat walks across the keyboard on her way to the windowsill)
His flaming hair congealed into sable feathers that reflected the dim light in a sheen of blues and greens and scattered purples that shimmered and gleamed
Too long…sigh...Oh look - It's snowing again. 
His flaming hair congealed into sable feathers. The dim light scattered over them in a sheen of purples, blue and green.
Hmm...but the color shifts - a shifting sheen…
Good enough for now, come back to it later.
O.K. next sentence -

Saturday, March 1, 2014

March First

Today March comes in like a lion
Silent, it stalks in behind the fog
No roaring no flash
But the big cat, crouched 
Its baited breath draws
Precipitates from the mist
When I look again
Grains of snow dance without sound
The house cat walks across my hands 
to sit on the window sill
and stare, wide-eyed, at the world.