Of Elves and Dragons

In which our heroine responds to her boyfriend’s mocking of her favorite genre...

An embarrassing number of books on my bookshelves have pictures of dragons, elves, or sorceresses on the cover. I read a lot of fantasy, and even at 25, I still read a lot of fantasy intended for the Young Adult market. My boyfriend rolls his eyes, openly mocks, or quietly scoffs at this particular love of mine. Coming from a man who still routinely buys Star Wars novels, this is an especially low blow.

I became a serious fantasy reader in junior high school. I was an awkward, friendless preteen and had plenty of time to devour the expansive works of Anne McCaffrey, Terry Brooks, Mercedes Lackey, Andre Norton, and Piers Anthony*. To be honest, each of these authors wrote fairly formulaic novels, but it’s a formula that appealed to me. In nearly every one, a normal girl (it was usually a girl, but if not actually a girl in the book, it morphed into a girl later in my head) suddenly discovered that she was a princess or sorceress or soldier in the fight for good. Each of these normal girls suddenly discovered she was extraordinary.

That is what I wanted to read about, because that is exactly what I wanted to happen to me. I eschewed “normal” preteen fare. I wasn’t interested in babysitting or getting a boyfriend or throwing tantrums caused by my parents divorce, and too many stories marketed to my age group focused only on those mundane issues.

Today, I read more adult-oriented fantasy writers. George R.R. Martin’s “Song of Fire and Ice” series is more about political backstabbing and intrigue than magic and elves. Lord of the Rings has moved out of the realm of genre and into the respectable “classics” category. Good books are good books, no matter how many dragons are pictured on the covers.

But mostly, I continue to read fantasy because it’s familiar and comforting. It’s the same reason I still like eating Kraft Macaroni ‘n Cheese, when I know I have more substantial and healthy offerings in my kitchen. It’s a homecoming. I am not ashamed.

*My first and only fan letter was written to Piers Anthony. He wrote a gracious and personal reply, and we began a brief correspondence. Eventually, I suggested a joke for his incredibly pun-laden Xanth series. He thanks me for it in the Author’s Notes of Zombie Lover. People consider him a hack, but he is a lovely and kind man, he honestly appreciates his fans, and I will defend him to the end.

The Brief History of the Dead, Kevin Brockmeier

“Which do you like better? The other world or this one?”

You die and wake up in a giant city. The city is very much like the ones found on the Earth you knew in life: apartment buildings, divey diners, giant corporations, mom ‘n pop stores, bums on the sidewalks, overflowing trash cans. But somehow, this city – The City of The Dead – is better than anything you experienced while you were alive.

There’s a “what if” game that’s fun to play: What if you could go back to high school (or “your twenties” or “elementary school”) with everything you knew now? What pitfalls would you avoid? What mistakes would you correct? What encounters would you risk?

In The Brief History of the Dead, this is exactly the sort of scenario Kevin Brockmeier envisions for his version of Heaven; not eternal perfection, but knowledge and second chances. One couple, after living decades in an apathetic marriage, rediscovers their love for one another. Another man casts off the office world and fulfills his lifetime dream of operating a restaurant. Each character is literally given a second chance and most take it.

The trappings of a universal and perfect heaven are disregarded as illogical; because how could “perfection” be universal? These tiny happinesses are only exist for each individual character and are made all the sweeter because they were given the chance to choose their happiness.

“This one.”

Humble Beginnings

In which our heroine starts a new project...

One of my life goals is to own a copy of the OED. That’s Oxford English Dictionary, for those of you not in the know.

The current incarnation of the OED is 20 volumes long, encompassing nearly 300,000 main entries. The thing that separates the OED from your basic Webster is that the OED lists source quotations for each of its entries.

“Fascinating!” You are surely thinking. “But so what?”

The idea behind the quotations is that it places words in their actual, real-world context. And multiple quotations trace how usage of the words has changed and expanded through its lifetime. The OED tries hard to find the earliest written use of any word, to set exactly when a word entered the English language.

“Get on with it!” You are surely thinking now.

Compiling the OED was an undertaking that took seventy years and used the services of thousands of volunteers around the world. The volunteers were asked to read works and find the oh-so-important quotations to fill the dictionary. Not just hard words, or unusual words, or so-called important words, but absolutely every word.

“Rrraarrrgh!” You are surely thinking now.

The Professor and the Madman: A Tale of Murder, Insanity, and the Making of the Oxford English Dictionary, by Simon Winchester tells the story of one of the volunteers who helped gather these quotations for the dictionary. A very seminal volunteers, who personally contributed over 20,000 quotations. A volunteer who just happened to be stark raving maaaaaaad.

It may be a measure of my own word geekery, but I was riveted by this book. Finished the thing, from epilogue to “thank-yous” in just four hours. The writing is informative and interesting.

The best part of this book was that Winchester managed to relay the importance of the OED, when it was created and even today. The OED defined Anglo culture; the way English-speakers saw themselves and the way we wanted to world to see us. And it was an undertaking that any English-speaker could participate in creating. It was a book of the people. It was of a way of saying, “This is who we are. This is what we know. This is how we say it.”

This book inspired me. I am a writer by trade and by hobby. But my writing usually floats at the lowbrow end of the pool: comic books, sitcoms, screenplays. So here I am, starting a simple blog in the corner of the interweb, trying to writing things of merit. I would like to say, “This is who I am. This is what I know. This is what I want to say about it.” I do not have twenty volumes of beautifully bound scholarship behind me, but all things in time.

Thank you for reading.