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Just to prove I'm not dead...
Feb. 21st, 2005 09:20 pm...which I'm not. As far as I can tell.
One reason for my recent inactivity has been being intermittently wrapped up in "Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell", an epic and largely wonderful work by Susanna Clarke. For anyone who hasn't read it, I shan't bother to precy it, except to say that it occurs in a version of this world where magic is part of the fabric of life, albeit a dry and neglected part. It is dense, complex, and at times a little too academic for it's own good, but it weaves a spell like few other books I know (one being the glorious "The Light Ages" by Ian MacLeod, which I tend to rattle on about to anyone too slow to get away). JS & Mr N is probably too long for its own good (given the size of the type and the nearly 800 pages, I'd say it's probably longer than His Dark Materials, and not a million miles off The Lord of the Rings), and does get a bit lost in its ramblings in places (having spoken to someone who's met Susanna Clarke, apparently she is rather like this herself), but it is well worth it if you have the imagination, and a month or two to spare...
Otherwise, little stirs the leaves outside the commodious walls of my solitary fastness - work has picked up a little from the nadir of last month, partly because my boss is in Dubai (apparently working _awfully_ hard - yeah, and my arse whistles Dixie), and partly because I'm back to concentrating on one or two things at a time, rather than fifteen.
And now, if we can have enough snow tonight to take out the rail line between here and ing's Lynn, that would be nice...
One reason for my recent inactivity has been being intermittently wrapped up in "Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell", an epic and largely wonderful work by Susanna Clarke. For anyone who hasn't read it, I shan't bother to precy it, except to say that it occurs in a version of this world where magic is part of the fabric of life, albeit a dry and neglected part. It is dense, complex, and at times a little too academic for it's own good, but it weaves a spell like few other books I know (one being the glorious "The Light Ages" by Ian MacLeod, which I tend to rattle on about to anyone too slow to get away). JS & Mr N is probably too long for its own good (given the size of the type and the nearly 800 pages, I'd say it's probably longer than His Dark Materials, and not a million miles off The Lord of the Rings), and does get a bit lost in its ramblings in places (having spoken to someone who's met Susanna Clarke, apparently she is rather like this herself), but it is well worth it if you have the imagination, and a month or two to spare...
Otherwise, little stirs the leaves outside the commodious walls of my solitary fastness - work has picked up a little from the nadir of last month, partly because my boss is in Dubai (apparently working _awfully_ hard - yeah, and my arse whistles Dixie), and partly because I'm back to concentrating on one or two things at a time, rather than fifteen.
And now, if we can have enough snow tonight to take out the rail line between here and ing's Lynn, that would be nice...
