3rdragon: (Default)
I was at the library this afternoon, returning books and saying goodbye to my librarian. And I happened to notice that there was a crate of books next to her desk, and that the top one was The First Two Lives of Lukas-Kasha, and that it had one of those This Book Has Been Removed From The FLP stickers on its spine, meaning that it was en route to be sold for a quarter from the cart next to the circ desk. She noticed that I was eying it, and encouraged me to pick through the crate. To make a long story short, I acquired eight Alexanders and one Aiken, plus a Colfer from the cart downstairs. Apparently it's weeding time in the A's (although I was reassured that there are newer copies of everything; either on-shelf or on-order). And she wouldn't let me pay for any of them on the grounds that I'm a college student and therefore poor. That's all of $2.25, but I appreciate it.

And I was restrained. Considering the free space on my bookshelf, I did not bring home the nice old hardcovers of The Prydain Chronicles (No, I will NOT collect multiple editions of Prydain. My bookshelf isn't that big, and multiple editions of Tamora Pierce's stuff is bad enough. Even if my habitual book-browsing-and-rescuing means that I already have a good start on multiple paperback imprints of Prydain.) I did get some Vesper Holly, although I still don't have The Jedera Adventure. Ah well.

Books, books, books!
3rdragon: (Default)
I know I've been quiet of late (at least on my own journal), but I feel like I don't have all that much to say. I've been reading )

In other news:
In proof of the fact that my room at dad's house is really freaking cold - I could see my breath yesterday morning. In my room. Not all the time, but if I breathed in warm air from under the covers and breathed out outside the covers, the misty little cloud was quite evident. (I decided not to check this morning - I didn't want to know.) Needless to say, this does not encourage me to get up in the mornings. Luckily there's not really anything to get up for, and if I manage to not encounter my brother in the morning before school, so much the better.

I've been house-sitting, so I have been spending a great many hours sitting around with Ghengis's paw or chin on my hand. It's very relaxing. Madison may know how to purr, but she hasn't managed the trick of making the air around her vibrate when she does. Ghengis isn't the best purrer I know, but he's certainly the best among the cats I see with any frequency. And I think Ghengis's old-cat attitude of just sit still and relax - unless, of course, he wants Food or Out, in which case everything should be done immediately - is very calming for the soul (except on the occasions when he's yelling at you and you're not sure what he wants. It was much easier to talk to that cat before he went completely deaf). Everyone should have more cat hand-holding in their lives.

My dad made pork and sauerkraut, our traditional New Year's dish - albeit a few days late. I'm very glad. While my mother did make some for when we had her family over on New Year's Day, she doesn't do it as whole-heartedly and I feel that the result is an inferior product - not that I would EVER tell her so, mind you.

New Year's (Christmas) with mom's family was good. Festivities with dad's family were fine )

DAMN IT!

18 May 2007 09:59 am
3rdragon: (Default)
Lloyd Alexander is dead.

He was an author whose work I've loved for years. He was a Philadelphian. He lived in Drexel Hill. I always intended to write him a letter and tell him how much I enjoyed his books. I even found his address when I was in 5th grade (and promptly lost it again, but I would have been able to find it, if I'd bothered to look properly).

He was old - born in 1924 - and I knew that he wouldn't be alive forever, and that I ought to get my act together and write the letter. This particularly struck me a year or two ago when Colman came out, and in reading the notes, I discovered not only that it was published posthumously, but that Monica Furlong, the author, had been a really cool person. It struck me really forcefully at the time - authors don't live forever, and some of the ones you're fond of are getting rather old. I think that's when I really decided to write him a letter. Before, it had been something that it would be nice to do, and after, it was something that I intended to do, and soon.
But I was a highschooler, and very busy, and it slipped my mind.

Last February I was lying in bed, waiting to go to sleep, and the thought occurred to me again: If I want to write Lloyd Alexander a letter, I need to do it. I decided to write the letter the next morning. And then the next morning I woke up feeling absolutely rotten - I think I'd caught that nasty bug that had been going around. And I decided to put off writing the letter, because no 80-something-year-old-man, author or not, was going to appreciate getting a germ-bomb that was easily taking out dozens of young healthy college kids. So I didn't write it. And by the time I was done feeling like something the cat dragged in, I had forgotten again.

And now he's dead. He died yesterday. sdn posted it on her lj, and the rest of the web confirms.

I always doubted that he heard much from his fans; he didn't seem to be hugely well known, even here in Philadelphia, and he seem to go to cons or do booksignings - in fact, he didn't even have a website.
But we, the fans, exist all the same.
And we are sorry.

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