Perhaps the most frustrating issue with this book was the lack of characterization. Although the surface details were drawn with care, the characters themselves came out as flat. Flat, flat, flat, totally flat. You could not imagine an emotion more than a silly grin on any of them. Even the dog and cat seemed more archetypes of the species than real, live, breathing animals. I rate this book one star for lack of characterization alone. Not recommended.
Wow, that was pretty harsh. What was your book about?
It was children’s book that featured a family of gingerbread people… Totally flat.
I do not go for abstraction but can only paint what I see, and what I see is fascinating. Do you not think the swirls of nature in the roots of trees is a work of beauty? Or the wind-blown wheat in the field?
You say the lamp is clear and distinct, but you must be seeing it wrong, for there is an aura of light, a halo of being, around it.
And the stars in the sky, what wonders these points of light echoing through space! The morning star on the horizon is almost as bright as the moon!
Vincent van Gogh was against abstraction and painted from nature. His sketchbook is full of fascinating drawings that people of his day thought boring. All of the points on his famous painting “Starry Night” can be identified, from Venus on the horizon to the constellation Aries. The moon was gibbous on the night represented, but he abstracted it for the composition. One thing, though – there are a lot of people who think Vincent had Cataracts or another eye ailment that caused him to see halos around bright objects since he always painted them with halos. It isn’t uncommon, so there is a very strong possibility…
While Jones and I explored the village, Hixon and Simmons went to investigate something interesting they saw. Simmons said that the multi-rooted tree looked like a structure with a statue in the middle. I laughed at Hixon’s description of a “sinuous man with outstretched arms, three sets of eyes and a long, pointed beard.”
Simmons and Hixon were long overdue, so, through the interpreters, we asked their whereabouts.
The interpreters must have misunderstood. It was just gibberish thanking us for the sacrifice and, since their god was satiated, for sparing one of their own.
I remember her clearly, the oversized suitcase, the faded rose on her jacket.
Later, at the diner, I asked a local about her.
For at least 30 years she had gone down to the bus station daily and waited for her lover to come take her away.
Funny thing was that the dark-haired stranger had jilted her long before, back in the 1950s. She had waited patiently for him until she was 41 and began the crazy ritual.
I saw her the next day, the spring beauty just beneath the snowy old surface.
I wonder if she is still waiting?
Some of you (if you are old enough) may recognize this as coming from the song Delta Dawn (or try this if you like Tanya better than Helen), only I set it 30 years later, say 2003, when poor Dawn is in her 70s, not her 40s (the song says 41).
Years ago someone at work was stealing TP. I don’t think they caught the thief, btu everyone knew the person doing it most likely made 3 times what the average American made. I always wondered why they risked their super high salary and nice career for the nastiest TP on the face of the Earth…. (If you didn’t notice, there is a lock on the roll in the photo…)