Something Wicked

Weather update: We're snowed in. Schools have shut down and shopes
closed early. They get bad weather over here and everybody gets the
day off, a policy I think we should definitely adopt in Australia. It
started out okay, the snow was all light and fluffy and pretty this
morning, in fact it was the first time the flakes were big enough that
you could actually see the patterns in them, which I was, briefly,
very excite3d about--until the solid flakes became more like slushy,
very cold rain soaking through my coat, hat and scarf and makig the
side walks very slippery. Now, curled up in a big armchair by the
heater, it all looks very pretty again.

Before the weather decided to confine us indoors we did manage a brief
trip out to Salem this morning (Jo, your art prac was way better than
the memorial they put up, they have 19 stone chairs with the victims
names on them). Like Concord, the town itself is entirely postcard
worthy, and definitely not the sort of place you imagine as the site
of one of the darkest stains in America's history. The town itself, I
think, would rather forget the witch trials of 1692, where 18
townsfolk were hanged for supposedly being witches, and another was
crushed to death with stones for witholding information. The video
they screen at the Visitor's centre brushes over it pretty quickly
stating: 'in the puritans' defence, they did actually believe these
people to be witches' and 'we've benefitted from the incident, as it
taught us a valuable lesson in tolerence'. They made similar remarks
about the cloth mills run several centuries later, citing them as
shining examples of the American work eithic...one in three of the
workers died working at those mills...

So ol' Salem's got a pretty sketchy past, in fiction, as well as fact,
as it turns out. While yesterday the good folk of Concord did their
darndest to claim Nathaniel Hawthorne as their own, Salem is equally
keen for the priveledge. Personally, I'm giving that one to Salem, if
you ask me, Concord is a bit greedy on the author front.

Hawthorne was actually born in Salem and the House of Seven Gables is
just off the main drag (yup, it's real), though, unfortunately by the
time we discovered this the mushy rain had set in and I added treking
through sleet to the list of things I won't do for the sake of
literature.

We did find yet another amazing book shop though, after the Strand in
NYC, this has definitely been the best. All the books are staked in
precarious piles that have a tendancy to topple over at random, and
bad luck if you wanted the title on the bottom, or in one of the
stacks behind the staks. And it was uber cheap, all 50% off and if you
bought 4, number 5 was free.

As you've probably gathered, we've been a bit book focused this week.
And I feel I've been particularly lucky; I haven't read a book yet
that I haven't loved. I want to talk a little about the latest two,
they've had me so excited!

First off, I finished Fitzgerald's This Side of Paradise last night.
Wow. It's a toss up between that and Gone with the Wind for the
bestlast line ever award. I'll admit, I don't think I'm quite mature
enough to really 'get' a lot of it yet. I'm going to have to come back
to it in about twenty years. But it was so beautiful, tragically
beautiful, romantic, melancholy and bursting with youthful arrogance.
My favourite chapter was the story of Amory and Elenor. She's a
fabulous charcter.

I was pretty sure, having sat and stared out into nothing for some
time with the last page open on my lap, that whatever I picked up next
would be a disappointment.

I was wrong.

I picked up Tim Bowler's Frozen Fire on a whim, and I'm only halfway
through, so it could still go either way, but the first half, wow! I
only got through the first few pages last night, but they had me. You
know that freeling; your eyes feel like they're locked onto the words.
I hadn't been gripped like this since The Hunger Games.

The premise actually sounds a little lame. A girl, Dusty, who's
brother mysteriously disappeared two years earlier, gets a mysterious
phone call one night from an unknown caller who seems to know a lot
about her brother and who tells Dusty that he, the caller, is in the
middle of a suicide attempt and doesn't want to be saved, he just
wants someone to talk to. Yeah, I know, sounds very angsty. It's not.
I couldn't sleep last night. I was terrified. Bowler's way with words
had brought all my adolescent fears to the surface and I was afraid to
close my eyes. I also wanted to keep reading. The plot is really
fast-paced and exploding with suspense. I'll keep you updated as to
wether the second half manages to keep it up! Incidently, has anyone
read any of his other stuff? Can recommend anything similar?

Well, I'm starting to get hungry. Time to suit up and venture out into
the snow for some grub!

Miss you all. Rach, if you're reading, give the dustball a big cuddle
from me, reading a book with a character called Dusty is making me
miss her so much!

Love,
Margs

xo xo xo