Sherlock Holmes Solves the Mystery of the Lost Boot

It was the very night on which I had shared here on this blog the story of the lost boot which had run off within the realms of my book when I discovered another such precarious shoe in a most unexpected place.

It might have been a thing not at all worth mentioning if the topic of lost boots was not one which had been greatly on my mind. 

I was reading The Hound of the Baskervilles when, almost like an afterthought, Henry Baskerville mentioned to Sherlock Holmes that he hopes that losing a single boot is not part of the ordinary routine of life.

 

 

It immediately peeked my interest, for the casualness with which it was mentioned struck me as strange. 

I of course knew due to recent experiences that losing one boot was indeed out of the ordinary, for boots don't often walk off alone, when they walk at all.

Naturally, Sherlock Holmes knew this as well and proceeded to inquire about the boot of interest. 

Rarely has a clue so interested me on such a personal level. I made it my private mission to keep my eyes peeled for it.

 

 

I am happy to say that I have since found sir Baskerville's boot, though I certainly won't give away its location to the unknowing readers out there. 

As of yet, the boot of my book is still quite content to remain missing. But even so, I could not help but feel that the immortal and ingenious Sherlock Holmes was talking to me when he remarked on page thirty-five with an air of great reassurance that "it will not be long before the missing boot is found."  

 

It was not an altogether unusual thing to say at the time. Yet if anyone could transcend from fiction's shadows and say with utter confidence that a missing boot he could not possibly have known about will be found shortly, well, then that someone can only be Sherlock Holmes. 

I would not expect it of any other. And although I confess that I myself expect that the missing boot will soon be found, it was nice to have a word of encouragement from the ultimate expert.

Two Cups of Tea and One Book

What strange and mysterious things ensue, I do not know. But I found that one cup of tea quickly led to two as I read this afternoon.

 

Meanwhile, the day changed its course countless times, drizzling onto my window just to let the sun slip out for a while not long after. Then, later that evening, it started to snow sparsely. 

The day sure was eventful, and I found, though I am a quite a few chapters in, I still don't know what to think of it. 

 

As one test led to another, and I watched quietly while each of the three very resourceful children passed each obstacle differently, brilliantly, strangely.  

 

I half expect Lemony Snicket to come slinking out from some corner where he has been silently watching and admit, as if to make a point, that not even he knows what is going on and what all this could mean. 

 

 

The book begins like most of this nature do, with something strange stemming from some adult thing, like business trips, or moves to new homes due to financial struggle. More often than not, it is an uncertainty in an issue of child custody. This one begins with something even more adult and mundane, an ad in the paper with these inquiring words: "Are you a gifted child looking for special opportunities?"

The words are also printed on the back cover in red letters. 

One should note two things about this statement: first, it is addressed directly to a child, not the child's parents; and second, it slips in the words gifted, and special, which every child wishes to be.

 

 

These words are less strange on the back of a book than they would be printed in the paper. 

But I imagine any child (or adult) would be reading this book for the same reason they would note the ad in the paper with keen interest.

 

I am, of course, not a child. But I was unfairly not allowed enough time to be one, and so, I often like to read as if I still am one.  

The world is far more mysterious and whimsical when you are young and unfamiliar with issues of custody or financial struggles. A child is less likely to question the premise of a book, no matter how mysterious, just so long as it intrigues them or allows them the chance to be gifted and special, which admittedly, not only children wish to be.  

 

Perhaps by the third cup of tea the part of me that still reads in the voice of Lemony Snicket (or rather, Jude Law) will have a better sense of what is going on.

Books for Blankets

"I am sitting... looking out across the the backyard full of blue evening snow, everything is slick and crusty with ice, and it is very still. It's one of those winter evenings when the coldness of every single thing seems to slow down time... Tonight I feel that my love for you has more density in this world than I do, myself: as though it could linger on after me..." ~The Time Traveler's Wife

The schools let out early that day in preparation for a storm that came a lot later than we anticipated. 

I looked out the window often throughout the morning and into the afternoon, in-between customers and during them, looking out into the dead world for the snow that we had been promised was coming. 

The buses canceled in waiting. 

It was only on my way home from work that tiny flakes started to fall onto the windshield of my car; only after I fell asleep in my bed was the world transformed, as it usually is. 

You cannot watch the change. It always comes suddenly, softly, while you are sleeping. It's like magic. Even if you are awake, it creeps in so silently, like someone slipping into bed late at night when their spouse is already dreaming.

 

 

I awoke in the evening inside a blue darkness. Outside my gently weeping windows the world had been dressed white.

I read in my bed for hours after, tucked into a soft blanket, my fingers curled around the large pages of my book, listening to the silence. 

I never thought this book, with its meadows and its picnics and sunny childhood days, would be a winter book. But now, reading it for the second time, I realized that it was. It is full of winter, full of festivities and New Years parties. It is full of snow banks, and cold naked nights, and stagnant winter days, and soft and still ones too. It is packed with cold pavements, and tragedies that happen on Christmas, and wedding days during snow storms. 

It is full of soft silent nights in which its characters curl up in bed with a book, or with the warm body of someone they love. 

It was the perfect book to keep you warm in bed on a night like this one.

 

 

The spell still hasn't broken. But the book was over by the time I made my way into the night to behold the winter's magic. The only disturbance in the snow was a cat's soft footprints and the showers of a tree laden white,  leaving trails of its own as it shed bits of its new coat. 

 

I crawled into bed after, with my mittens and boots drying downstairs and my book put aside on my nightstand without a slip to mark its place in time.  

 

It is strange how a narrative is remembered when it is over; not in thought-out paragraphs or ordered pages, but existing in one's head in fragments and duality, in coupled moments and disordered dialogue, misplaced moments stuck in sections of a nonsensical timeline. It is as if it has happened all at once, a stream of consequence nestled into a soft white night spent in reading, and nothing else.

 

 

Stoker's Shadows

 "Though we were in shelter, we could hear the rising wind, for it moaned and whistled through the rocks, and the branches crashed together... It grew colder and colder still."

(Dracula, Bram Stoker)

It was a cold, blustery day; the cold was of the wet, bitter kind; the kind that seems to grasp your very bones. Not even the heat indoors could fight it away. You could feel it seeping through the glass of every window. 

 

 

The outside world looked dreary, blurred by the wetness and the damp, and the rain's slim slippery fingers tapped on my window eerily, sometimes almost desperately.

 

By the time the afternoon rolled in the day had changed its mind tenfold, turning itself from rain to snow, and back to rain again. By then the clouds above were as thin as a dying person's skin, and the light it let loose was pale and meagre. 

 

The day was almost spent.

As I read by the window, the shadows crept out from between the pages of my book, out of the core of its very spine. Even as I held it open, transfixed by its horror, still, the shadows lingered. I expanded its leaves, extending its spine and wrenching it wide. Still, the shadows deepened.

 

 

 

 

 Dracula was made to be read on days like this: when all through the afternoon the light weens to grey; when the imminent dark of November is only hours away, and even the crook of a spine is a dark and shadowy place. 

 

Three Worlds in a Day

 

"What had seemed to be lost was to be restored to her tenfold."

 

~A Little Princess, by Frances Hodgson Burnett

We read all that Sunday, till one book was finished and another begun. We read all that day, till the sun went down and the night lights turned on. 

I lived in three worlds that day, in the world of a fanciful child thrown into hardship, and then into the legends of Arthur through the short lived tale of an incomplete story. And then, when that was over, I peered over your page, and lived in yours.

Tolkien, Trees, and other Thoughts

I got distracted by the light dancing across my book as I was reading The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien this afternoon.

I love the tree outside my bedroom window, almost as much as I love reading in the afternoon. I love sleeping with the window open so I can listen to the hush of the leaves in the night. I greatly enjoy all the little critters that visit me outside my window, from the birds that come to sing in the morning, to the family of squirrels that sometimes come to gawk at my cat. It is also my favorite place to take a nap, there in the tree filtered afternoon-sun.

Tolkien was himself a great lover of trees. Thus, it is no small wonder that The Lord of the Rings pays such special attention to them. Indeed, the trees are the personality of most every landscape in Middle Earth, be they of the hostile or illustrious variety. They are the constant dwellers, watching over passersby and temporary inhabitants that come and go throughout the years, such a short while in the long life of a tree.

Tolkien himself had a tree outside his window once which he claimed helped inspire his story Leaf by Niggle, an odd and wonderful tale that feels altogether dreamlike. He wrote about this tree in the books original introductory note, saying

"One of (the tale's) sources was a great-limbed popular tree that I could see even lying in bed. It was suddenly lopped and mutilated by its owner. I do not know why. It is cut down now, a less barbarous punishment for any crimes it may have been accused of, such as being large or alive. I do not think that it had any friends, or any mourners, except myself and a pair of owls."

Altogether, leafing through these letters written by a mentor that I will never get to meet has been wonderful, even more so than I expected.

Reading through his rambles –regarding such themes as the struggles of procrastination in the face of productivity, his constant anguish at the regrettable busyness of his schedule, and the woe brought on by a book that doesn't want to get done, have all made me realize that maybe I know what I'm doing after all. Self-doubt is no stranger to even the greats.

I sometimes feel small in comparison, so un-heightened by time, so stuck in the scope of the present with a book that is only as old as the files containing it on my computer; a book that is still so unlived in. But knowing that someone I so admire has struggled with the same things as I am toiling with now brings me an unexpected sort of comfort. All this is mostly normal, after all; as normal as the life of anyone who takes up writing can ever be.

Tolkien barely dared dream that so many would share in his delight for his Middle Earth.

Books are wrought only with great pain and frustration, for the imagination rarely complies well with the limits of our vocabulary and the hampered frame of the page.

But once the wrestling is through, and the writer sits back and cries in wonder and fear at what they have created, the book becomes severed from them. As Tolkien wrote:

"(The) goal was reached at last. It is finished... (but) now I look at it, the magnitude of my disaster is apparent to me. My work has escaped my control, and I have produced a monster."

Sometimes the book fades away after that, collecting dust on a back shelf, thought about from time to time only by they that sired it, sometimes with fondness, sometimes with regret. But every so often, if chance allows, a book will fly away to other horizons, where it finds other shelves, from that of a publisher, to possibly that of a reader.

Who can ever know for certain how many shelves a book can make a home in, nestled in comfortably, as if it's already forgotten they that toiled for it before it could stand up on its own. But, the writer won't know: not where it goes, nor how shelves it comes home to; much less how many readers might find a semblance of home in reading it.

Indeed, no one can ever truly guess what might happen when you release a wild book onto the vast world.

For now though, it is much nicer to simply read under the shadow of a tree, and dream of the day when my own book will forget about me and find a home on the shelf of another.

Unnatural Creaures

Unnatural Creatures is a fantastical collection of outrages creatures.
Some were completely bizarre, others were quite amusing; and then there were the ones that were utterly frightening...

This book features sixteen short stories selected by master storyteller Neil Gaiman. 

Reading this book felt like wandering through a museum of myths, from one story into another. Some of these stories were marvelously outlandish. Some made me laugh, others frightened me. 

I loved Gahan Wilson's terrifying creature with the unpronounceable name. I can honestly say I have never read anything quite so peculiar (although I have read a lot of peculiar things.)

Neil Gaiman's own "Sunbird" was undoubtedly one of the highlights of this collection, although I believe the real unnatural creature of this story was Zebediah T. Crawcrustle, (You'll see why.) 

Samuel R. Delany's "Prismatic" was mystifying and really rather fascinating. A haunting story that feels like an old fairy tale.
I loved that the Princess in the story was named after me ;)
"I am a woman worthy of a Prince, and my name is Lea."

But, I think my favorite of all of these was the final story of the collection, which was Peter S. Beagles "Come Lady Death," in which the Lady Death is invited to a dance.
This tale was so bewitchingly enticing. If you ever want to meet the personification of death, and maybe share a dance or two with her, I highly recommend this story.

But, although this library of the unnatural is simply crawling with erratic creatures of all sort, there were a few that disappointed. 

I did not like "The Smile on the Face" one bit. Although the idea seemed promising, the story was very poorly written and the main character was extremely irritating. The setting was ridiculously cliche and the descriptions were altogether pointless. If I wanted to read about a shallow teenage girl I wouldn't be reading in this genre. 

I also didn't enjoy "The Manticore, the Mermaid and Me." Although I thought the idea seemed promising, it was very vaguely written and not at all gripping. 

In the end, I still really enjoyed this book. I love Neil Gaiman, and being able to read some of the stories that he loves gave me a new insight into his imagination, which I so adore. 

Photo credit, like always, goes to Heinrich Nikel Photography! Check out more of his stunning work here.

The Life of a "BookDragon"

As a storyteller, one of my greatest inspirations is the freedom to experience other stories. Whether it is the exploration of a fictional realm, or the privilege to walk the path of another's life, reading is a writer's greatest asset.

I don't remember a day of my life since I picked up the first novel that I haven't been reading. I'm always reading something. But finding the time to do so isn't always easy. 
So how, throughout all the craziness of life, how can you find time to read?

I have constructed I list of seven things you can do to continue to read admits a busy schedule. This list is for books worms only. [I prefer the term Book-Dragons, who wants to be a compared to a worm?] 
Because reading is one of my number one priorities non-Book Dragons [worms] may find this list a little extreme and probably won't be able to relate. But, if you feel like reading this list anyway, be my guest; Just know that I already know I am a nerd so you don't have to tell me... so without further ado... here is my list.  

1. Make a goal.
Whether your goal is to read a certain number of books this year or finish the one your reading now by the end of this week, making goals will motivate you to read more. I find that when I make a reading goal for myself I often end up reading double as much as I originally intended.

2. Make it part of your routine. 
Eventually, you won't have to "make time to read," you'll just do it. Even if you only find the time to read a page or two, it's still better than not reading at all. Reading before bed is a great way to make reading part of your routine. It also helps your brain come down from a busy day, which will help you sleep better and more deeply, so don't even worry about the sleep you're losing to reading (so long as you know when to put the book down of course... which most of us probably don't.)

3.  Read everywhere all the time.
There's nothing like curling into a chair with your cat, a hot cup of tea and a good book. Although those are most readers ideal reading conditions, more often than not, life doesn't allow for this. Whether you're waiting for an appointment, or you have your book propped up on the table while you eat lunch (or held up in front of your nose as you're walking through public... lol,) drastic times call for drastic measures.


 4. Bring your book everywhere!
 (This one should be obvious, if you're going to read everywhere you're going to need a book.)
In case of an emergency always take a book with you. You never know when you'll find time to read. And although showing up with a massive novel to a gathering may be a little offensive to some people, you never know when you'll get bored or the opportunity to read will arise. 


5. Stop watching T.V.
This one makes such a huge difference. I didn't even realize how much time I wasted in front of the TV until recently when I started watching the new season of a TV show that just came on Netflix and my reading time suffered drastically. I went from reading two plus books a week to barely even finishing one. It's so easy to fall out of the habit of reading regularly. But, if you're not willing to completely drop watching TV (which I gotta admit I haven't done either,) then my advice is to prioritize. Which TV shows are worth watching and how much time do you really want to spend in front of the T.V?


6. Plan ahead.
I have a stack of books on my nightstand, and this isn't just because I ran out of space on my bookshelves. Looking forward to the books I'm going to read next gets me pumped to read more. It also avoids the bafflement of not knowing what to read next because I already know what I'm going to read next. 
 Abibliophobia is the fear of running out of reading material; But, if you're like me, then the problem is not that you worry about not having anything to read but not having enough time to read everything you want to read. There's just too many options. The World is full of so many great books. Where do you even start?! This is why I always decide what I'm going to read next before I finish the book I'm reading now.
A great way to do this is by using Goodreads. My "want to read list" is getting bigger by the day! Goodreads is a great way to keep track of what you want to read and what you have already read. It also keeps you focused on your reading goal. I am currently three books ahead of schedule, just by using this list!


7. Have a reading buddy!
I am so lucky to have two little brothers that are almost as big book-dragons as I am. I love curling into my bed and reading with them. The silent companionship of the flipping pages and my snoring cat is one of my favorite things. We also love to talk about what we're reading and challenge each other (exp. If I finish my book by the end of the day you have to read 100pages tomorrow. (Oh goodness, that sounds even nerdier when I write it down...))


Well, that's my list. I hope it was of some use to you, and if not I hope it as least motivated you to read more! 

Photo credit to Heinrich Nikel Photography. 

Check out more of his work here or read his blog here.

On a similar note, I'm planning on writing more book reviews on here in the near future.  This is one of the things I have been slacking majorly with and although writing about my journey and endeavors as a writer is a major part of this blog, books are just as important. 

Also if you want to stay updated on what I'm reading you can add me on Goodreads. I would love to see what you guys are reading and have you as my reading buddy!

Stay tuned for more book reviews coming soon!