Showing posts with label Winter Solstice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Winter Solstice. Show all posts

Sunday, December 10, 2023

A WORLD FULL OF WINTER STORIES: 50 Folk Tales and Legends from Around the World



A WORLD FULL OF WINTER STORIES: 50 Folk Tales and Legends from Around the World
ANGELA McALLISTER
(illus. Olga Baumert)
Frances Lincoln Children's Books
$24.99 hardcover, available now

Rating: 4.5* of five

The Publisher Says: Get ready for winter with this treasury of 50 frosty stories from around the globe.

Curl up beside the fire and uncover stories from all over the world with this rich resource of wintery folk tales, myths and legends. Featuring stories of Norse gods; hibernating bears; Christmas feasts and wicked witches, there is something for everyone in this collection of winter inspired stories.

The perfect anthology for Christmas, or any time you want to uncover chilly tales from lands near and far. Collected and retold by award-winning author Angela McAllister, with enchanting illustrations by Olga Baumert, this is an anthology to be read when the weather turns colder and the nights draw in.

Stories
  • The Spider and the Christmas Tree (Ukraine)
  • Mother Holle (Germany)
  • Shingebiss (Ojibwe, North America)
  • The First Rabbits (Japan)
  • The Girl and the Winter Whirlwinds (Bulgaria)
  • The First Evergreens (Mongolia)
  • The Snow Man (Denmark)
  • Why the Bear Sleeps All Winter (North America)
  • The Wind, the Clouds and the Snow (China)

  • I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA EDELWEISS+. THANK YOU.

    My Review
    : As usual, a beautiful book filled with lovely art. Frances Lincoln, a UK-based imprint dedicated to aesthetic appreciation of beautiful artwork, gives us here a selection of winter-themed stories that neither focus on nor ignore the Western winter holidays. We're celebrating the season, as usual, with gifting. The need for stories to keep our young readers of school age entertained and challenged in the evening before the big gifts get opened is well served with this book:
    I take off a half-star for one thing: I found the stories a bit saccharine, far too unchallenging, for eight-year-olds and certainly older than that. I don't think that does most readers that age a good turn. Better to make them stretch, fo all of me; but many others do not agree. Some readers more challenged by complexity will enjoy the stories. The artwork is technically irreproachable, if uninspiring to my jaded eye; again, perfect for a reader whose preferences aren't served by challenge.

    A good gift indeed for the right reader.

    Monday, September 26, 2022

    THE SLEEPING CAR PORTER, Black Queer Canadian historical novel & CABIN COMMOTION, a fun romantic read


    THE SLEEPING CAR PORTER
    SUZETTE MAYR

    Coach House Books
    $17.95 (US) trade paper, available now

    SHORTLISTED for the 2024 Dublin Literary Award!

    CONGRATULATIONS to Coach House Books & Suzette Mayr for THE SLEEPING CAR PORTER, a #queer #Black & #Canadian being THE WINNER OF THE 2022 Giller Prize! Watch the shining moment here.

    The author's search for models among people who don't necessarily want to be used as models, from Lit Hub.

    Rating: 4.75* of five

    The Publisher Says: When a mudslide strands a train, Baxter, a queer Black sleeping car porter, must contend with the perils of white passengers, ghosts, and his secret love affair

    The Sleeping Car Porter brings to life an important part of Black history in North America, from the perspective of a queer man living in a culture that renders him invisible in two ways. Affecting, imaginative, and visceral enough that you’ll feel the rocking of the train, The Sleeping Car Porter is a stunning accomplishment.

    Baxter’s name isn’t George. But it’s 1929, and Baxter is lucky enough, as a Black man, to have a job as a sleeping car porter on a train that crisscrosses the country. So when the passengers call him George, he has to just smile and nod and act invisible. What he really wants is to go to dentistry school, but he’ll have to save up a lot of nickel and dime tips to get there, so he puts up with “George.”

    On this particular trip out west, the passengers are more unruly than usual, especially when the train is stalled for two extra days; their secrets start to leak out and blur with the sleep-deprivation hallucinations Baxter is having. When he finds a naughty postcard of two queer men, Baxter’s memories and longings are reawakened; keeping it puts his job in peril, but he can’t part with the postcard or his thoughts of Edwin Drew, Porter Instructor.

    I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA EDELWEISS+. THANK YOU.

    My Review
    : The burden of racism lands without rhyme or reason. In no way does R.T. Baxter, dentist in training, want to believe he needs to be "George" to the oblivious white people his job as a porter on this particular cross-Canada trip from Montreal to Vancouver. They call him George anyway; he knows better than to correct them. And he knows that he's retaining a degree of his selfhood by allowing them to use a name that isn't connected to his self. It's not his self the oblivious don't see. It's not his self the crude jeer at, demean, demand from. It's George, the porter.

    The beginning of the book makes you, a twenty-first century reader, ill with the shame of being a witness to a man's humiliation at the whims of people no better and mostly significantly worse than he is. There's a repugnant attempt at sexual assault; there's a nasty trick played regarding a tip; most of all, Baxter...George, really...is w-bombed by one of the continent's most repulsive specimens of whiteness. And you're only on your first leg of the trip, Reader! BaxterGeorge is so very not on his first, fourth, fifteenth even. And the hits keep comin' with the company's Bartlebys announcing he has new demerits. New ways to risk losing this job that could, if he just makes himself stick the landing enough...enough more...times, get him closer to the goal of becoming a dentist.

    What transpires in this 1929-set tale of oblivious, privileged people behaving as badly as they are capable of without tipping too far into actual malice...even their obliviousness is used to shield them from the reality of those who serve them!...is seen through the stream of Baxter's desperately fatigued consciousness. His never-ending round of service isn't met with thanks, gratitude, or praise; just with demands for more. His brain serves up the memories of men he's cared for, he's served in the manner he's happy to serve them. He can't always connect the "reality" outside himself with the needs and wants of the young man he really is. He doesn't have a second to himself to dive back into The Scarab from Jupiter, for heaven's sake, even though a landslide trapped them...train-them, keep up!...in a pass and the Egyptologists are just finding out where on Jupiter they've been taken by their captors. Esme, little newly orphaned scrap of flesh that attached itself to him to escape a Gorgonops of a granny, won't let him go long enough to keep Pulp and Paper, those pompous bombastic business travelers, keep them from complaining about his unconscionable lack of information as to why the railroad allowed their train to be delayed by an Act of God, and then there's Mad Mary making all the sorts of noises as only his conductor-queen self can about Baxter also watching over Templeton's sleepers-only car...but in Baxter's car the Doctor's having A Crisis over his David, his colleague David, being arrested and, well, couldn't Baxter...you know...stay?

    It's a sadly unchanging situation. People who, themselves, want and need are instead wanted and needed at, and only the right ones get those needs met. What Baxter gives up in his one wild and precious life is meant to be an investment in a better personal as well as social tomorrow as a dentist caring for needful peoples' teeth. What happens to him in the meantime is the out-of-body experience of sleep deprivation, the absolute and utter abnegation of meeting the needs of people who can't so much as bother to learn, still less use, your name, the all-consuming pandering demanded by those whose lives are built on shoals of "I PAID FOR THIS" without ever seeing the vast deeps of suffering the shoals stand in.

    Capitalism is cruel, and the comfortably fixed for money like it that way. There's nothing wrong with the system, says the pale faces and pink gums of the privileged. Look, I tipped George, didn't I?

    Simultaneously moving, infuriating, beautiful, and deadly, this is a superb choice for the Giller Prize.

    ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


    CABIN COMMOTION
    BRINA BRADY

    non-affiliate Amazon link
    $4.99 available now

    Rating: 3.75* of five

    The Publisher Says: High-paid escort Marcus graduates college and he’s ready to leave The Manor. Working for pimp Kalepo for four years, Marcus believes there’s no way out without paying a fatal price. When Kalepo ends Marcus’s apartment lease and moves him into his home as his full time escort without his permission, Marcus leaves California on a train to New York City and a bus to a rented Vermont cabin for one month to hide from Kalepo and to think about his future.

    Playboy Blaze is the son of Sal Bossio, a New York City Italian mobster. His father orders him to his Vermont cabin for one month while he settles mob business. Blaze hires a rent boy for one month, but unexpected events occur and he finds himself alone in Vermont. When he reaches his cabin, he finds a stranger sleeping in his bed. The gorgeous gingered-haired man could be a hitman sent by his father’s enemies.

    Two lonely men solve the cabin commotion by sharing the only bed in the cabin during their sex fest, saving hidden pasts and tough decisions until the month ends.

    I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA BOOKSPROUT. THANK YOU.

    My Review
    : One of those "join my mailing list, get a free book," come-ons that worked out just fine. It's a meet-cute, with a slutty edge to it, kind of story about how hard it is to break the habits of a lifetime's training and trust people, talk to people, who stay long enough to listen to you.

    Marcus's parents aren't. They left him with a nasty uncle whose rage at him for being a faggot (a word we see a lot in this short book) led to his living the life of a highly paid escort. I mean, it's good to earn your keep by using the weapon that got you chucked out, right? Talk about lemonade from lemons!

    The life of a seriously pricey escort isn't materially deprived. Marcus still feels abandoned, feels rejected, and then feels everything in the world reorient itself when he meets Blaze (and Blaze's anger issues). Blaze's dad is a mafioso, and is perfectly aware that his son's a hothead who gives men head. Yeah, so? My son, my priority, not you and your stupid issues.

    Well, it's a romance, you know we're gettin' our HEA. You also know we're gettin' our drawers warmed up, some smexytimes and a little helping of spanking kink along the way. These guys don't waste a lot of time fully clothed. Their sex wasn't fresh or new to me, but it wasn't rote or mechanical. I believed these two characters would have this sex. And I believed they'd have these exact, precise miscommunication problems, one prideful and arrogant (Blaze) and the other wary and untrusting (Marcus). What I didn't expect was that Blaze's Pop would adopt Marcus with such tenderness. He genuinely sounds pissed off when Blaze acts the dickhead and drives Marcus away. He even gives Marcus the plan to make Blaze pay for it by igniting his jealousy via a fake date!

    Anyway, a free treat for signing up on Author Brina's newsletter list made this a just-fine Sunday afternoon-passing story of young, horny hotties finding out early that the family you give yourself is worth fighting for.

    Friday, December 17, 2021

    Happy Yuletide wishes, everyone!


    My fondest Yuletide greetings for 2021! Welcome, all who come here. I'm wishing for us all to have a brighter, happier 2022, starting with the Solstice on 21 December.

    I'll quote HolidaysCalendar.com for this potted history of Yuletide:
    Yule is a pagan holiday that goes back thousands of years and was celebrated by the Germanic peoples of Germany and Scandinavia. No one really knows how old this holiday is because it was {not} written about until about the 4th century. The word Yule is the modern version of the Old English words of ġēol or ġēohol. The time before the Yule Festival was known as ǣrra ġēola and the time after was called æftera ġēola. It’s believed that Yuletide was celebrated for a period of about 12-days.

    The main component of any Yule celebration was the Yule log {the bûche de noël above, f/ex, for us centrally heated moderns}. This tree would be cut down on the Winter solstice and fed into the fireplace-and this was done without chopping it into pieces! No, the top of the tree would be fed into the fireplace and over the course of the next 2 months, more and more would be pushed in as the winter progressed. This would become the basis of the Yule log or Christmas block as it is known today. Another tradition of Yule was bringing in various plants to “guard” their life essence. This was a form of sympathetic magic in which practitioners believed they could harness this life force for themselves. Some of the plants that were brought into the home included evergreen boughs, holly, ivy, birch boughs, and mistletoe. Sonargöltr was another aspect of ancient Yule customs. It featured a wild boar that was sacrificed and eaten. It is the basis of many of the Christmas feasts practiced today, except instead of a wild boar, a ham is served today.

    In Norse tradition, the god Odin would wander the earth during Yuletide and visit people’s homes. He was described in some of these myths as being an old man with a long white beard. This would be the same depiction that Father Christmas would acquire during the 15th century. Father Christmas would then become known by a variety of other names including Saint Nicholas, St. Nick, Santa Claus, and Kris Kringle.

    For Viking children, sugar and hay would be left out for Odin’s 8-legged horse Sleipnir, and for Christian children, cookies would be left out for Santa Claus.

    Mistletoe was used by Germanic peoples during Yuletide, just like it is used by Christians for Christmas. For the Germanic peoples of northern Europe, mistletoe was believed to have possessed supernatural qualities and could be used to heal people. The Celtic people also believed that mistletoe had mystical qualities. They believed that it could ward off evil spirits. Nowadays, mistletoe is something that people kiss under.

    One of the main things that Christmas borrowed from Yuletide is the placement and decoration of evergreen trees. Ancient Vikings used to decorate evergreen trees with carvings, food, and ornaments just like we decorate our Christmas trees. Another use for trees in Yuletide celebrations was the Yule Log. The Yule Log was a giant log that was meant to burn in the hearth for 12-days-the length of the festival.

    Whatever you celebrate, however you decorate...or don't!...may this season of darkening skies give your roots a rest for a bigger, better, brighter 2022.

    With that, this 1,003rd post is my final regular post of December. I'll see everyone back here on Monday the 27th to begin 2022 just a shade early!

    Thursday, December 21, 2017

    Happy Yule, my friends!


    The Solstice is upon us, the longest night of the Solar year. I'll be off, as in not posting, until a few reviews come out late next week. Today at 11:30am Eastern Standard Time, the day will begin its journey to night. This is the moment during the year that cultures more closely attuned to the seasons than Western cultures are have used to celebrate the brightness that begins its inexorable return to the Northern Hemisphere. Traditionally a toast offered at Yuletide is, "All the Yule blessings rain on {your friend's name here}!" This year, the Solstice coincides with a rare astrological alignment of the Sun and Jupiter in Capricorn.

    For the astrologically illiterate, that means "whoa Nelly, this gonna be one really bad motherin' day." That toast would just rain hellfire on your friend this year, so don't use it!

    I hesitate even to type this...how much worse could it be than the other 350-plus days of 45's totally illegitimate presidency?


    What a year this was. What a difficult and complicated year! An illegitimate government based on fraud, lies, and misrepresentation. The worst sort of people, an actual kakistocracy, blatantly colluded with a foreign power for the first time in US history. They wrenched control of our country away from We The People on the 8th of November 2016. One full cycle of the Sun later, the horrors are unraveling but not fast enough, not soon enough, for the most vulnerable among us.

    The "laws" passed by the Gross Old Pedophile Party's "lawmakers" are, as they themselves have proved by attacking Obama's very modestly progressive legislative legacy, susceptible to repeal and replacement. It's what they used voter suppression and Russian hackers to achieve, after all, a spurious and invalid "majority" to invalidate, erase the best true Republican president of modern times.



    The one solid, reliable joy in this dark night of our national soul has been reading good books. It's a tough world out there. #ReadingIsResistance, my year-long scream of outrage at 45 and his cronies, has kept me from curling up and giving up and resigning from life. They can't colonize my mind if I stuff it full of ideas I want to support, believe in, guide myself by. This is their worst nightmare: The quiet small-time resister with a big mouth and an agenda.

    I want everyone to resist the continuing drumbeat of stupidity battering each of us as media outlets report the inane and idiotic blather of the kakistocracy to us. Listen to what these idiots are saying, and in public no less, thinking that the US populace is less a body politic than a hoi polloi, a rabble to be roused then doused with the piss they've trickled down on us.


    Here's my one and only positive idea for this Yule, this season of renewal and revival: Raise a glass and toast, "All the Yule blessings rain on you, {insert 45's horrible name here}!" Then so mote it be.