Tuesday, December 25, 2012

A barren spot, bright in the moonwash, mercurial and luminescent as a sea

I dropped The Orchard Keeper for about 3/4 days and picking up where I left off, I feel like I should be re-reading it completely... it took me about 78 pages in to finally grasp the fact that McCarthy's change of perspectives was inclusive of the animal kingdom... which of course complicates matters further... Oh, it's so confusing. The latter McCarthy books are definitely easier to understand. Just found out that the James Tait Black Prize went to Angela Carter instead of McCarthy... argh well.
Anyhow, here are the quotes I collected from my last read -
From a lightwire overhead, dangling head downward and hollowed to the weight of ashened feathers and fluted bones, a small owl hung in an attitude of forlorn exhortation, its wizened talons locked about the single strand of wire. It stared down from dark and empty sockets, penduluming softly in the bitter wind.
'hollowed to the weight,' 'fluted bowns,' 'forlorn exhortation, 'wizened talons' 'penduluming softly' ... only McCarthy, truly.
A warm wind on the mountain and the sky darkening, the clouds looping black underbellies until a huge ulcer folded out of the mass and a crack like the earth’s core rending rattled panes from Winkle Hollow to Bay’s Mountain. And the wind rising and gone colder until the trees bent as if borne forward on some violent acceleration of the earth’s turning and then that too ceased and with a clatter and hiss out of the still air a plague of ice.
This reminds me of the 'narrowing eye' quote from Cities of the Plains. The quote is an acid incision to the heart.
Inside they struck matches and Warn took a candlestub from a crevice and lit it, the calcined rock taking shape, tonsiled roof and flowing concavity, like something gone partly to liquid and frozen back again misshapen and awry, their shadows curling threatfully up the walls among the dried and mounded bat droppings. They studied the inscriptions etched in the soft and curdcolored stone, hearts and names, archaic dates, crudely erotic hieroglyphs--the bulbed phallus and strange centipedal vulva of small boys' imaginations.
Reading McCarthy definitely boosts my vocabulary by 12%.

Anyhow, I'm off to continue pursuing The Orchard Keeper, goodnight, all.


Here comes my annual Christmas post! First and foremost, Merry Christmas to you all. This year, I began my Christmas in one of the most magical ways possible - watching Les Miserables. Christmas means family, and to see the musical of my childhood, with each tune practically carved into the minds of everyone in my family, translated to screen, starring Wolverine and Russel Crowe (haha), was stunning. A love-filled review for it will be coming soon. We don't have a tree this year, (unless you count the fake-plant-placed-there-for-decorative-purposes-draped-with-lights) but my sister and I still made wee attempts to lather dollops of festive cheer around the house... creamy whips of it... there are tiny holly berry ornaments poking out of the dining table lights, snowflake and bauble ornaments hung on window knobs, tinsel twirled across anything that will hold it, and Christmas lights stuck up... Festive lights are imperative during December. Winter is coldness, but Christmas is warmth. In January, I'll be seeing snow again (this time, proper heaps of it, I can't wait), and that shall be my White Christmas. 3 Christmases later, when I'm off at college, Christmas will be entirely different to me. Until then, I'm very content staying at home, reading McCarthy and writing on a lovely Christmas night. Have a convivial Christmas, everyone!