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I think it's a funny spoof of the whaling society of Nantucket in the 19th century, and of the Puritanical sort of Quaker types who brought up "Pen". This book introduces several sympathetic, believable, "bang-up" characters, such as Nate, Doc Mayhew, Cap'n Casket and Professor Breadno, and of course, Mr. Jenkins. The plot is wildly fantastical, (and physically impossible, in some parts) but the wonderful storytelling more than makes up for that, and rather sets the scene for the even more eerie and improbable sequels, The Stolen Lake and The Cuckoo Tree. Loads of fun, a must read for kids, and I personally think that adults should read it just to get in touch with the inner child within, etc. etc. READ THIS BOOK!
As usual Joan Aiken is brilliantly spoofing 19th century literature. Adults will find the parody hilarious while children thrill to the melodrama.
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And one more thing: Eric's books on imaging and craft and Carl Jung-based theories on acting are all bogus. If you read them you see how more and more self-indulgent and full of it he gets and how these lengthy pop-psychology theories are truly ignorant. Save your money but keep "No Acting Please" as a bible.
These books helped me stretch as an actor by suggesting exercises for my emotional instrument. I did them alone and found I could reach areas of emotions that were at one time foreign to me.
Incredibly helpful. Helped me grow as an actor, a teacher and a director!!
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After finishing it, and being once again intrigued, informed, aroused and delighted, I realized what it has that so many more recent anthologies lack: it has human contact based on emotion. The women in it are real and their feelings have true context. Instead of cold and sterile sex acts between people portrayed as obsessed with looks and their own image, this anthology overflows with the fluid nature of human sexuality and genuine human warmth.
Some may read for the historical perspective and others may miss the explicit-anything-for-shock-value gender games and power plays that are required it seems in all of the "best of" lesbian erotica out there now. I read it for the emotional impact because when it comes to erotica I need the emotional tie. Given how many lesbians (whether they admit it or not) read lesbian romance novels, I don't think I'm alone.
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Perhaps the most interesting and rare aspect of the book is the pervasive inclusion of the environmental and more mundane details of the conversations. She is careful to note the frequent occasions when Cage laughed, what he might have been cooking that day, interactions with an artist who stopped by to fix a bookshelf as a favor to Cage and to Merce Cunningham. Especially valuable is the penultimate conversation, when we are made privy to the beginning of Cage's composition process, as he begins to write a new piece on the spot with cellist Michael Bach. These insights into Cage's daily domestic life are perhaps the most revealing aspects of the book into his personality and philosophies.
For those familiar with Cage, this is a must-read. If you are skeptical or confused about his work, these talks will clarify a lot for you. If you have yet to be exposed to Cage, I recommend this book highly as an accurate and exhaustive portrait.
This is entertaining, compelling, thought-provoking stuff. I can think of few other people who are so mindful of WORD USAGE, or in this case, I guess, WORD "USCAGE." Many insights in this book. I recommend it highly.
Well worth the read. Inspiring.
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My wife was in another room, discovering she had a broken foot from a slip earlier that day on a basement floor made wet by water leaking in through the walls.
I spend far too much time doing home maintenance these days, mopping up wet basement floors, calculating how the house will be sided or painted, deciding whether topaint or replace a garage door, trimming hedges and yanking weeds.
All of these ridiculous, no-win chores simply chip away at the time I want for reading, writing and drawing. It is not enough that parenthood justly requires so much time and energy -- we signed on for that -- but the treadmill that is home maintenance is a horror for anyone who likes to sit by the bird feeder and read magazines.
I envy, then, Old Henry, who wants only to move in, leave things be, and read and draw while his neighbors are concerned about the length of his grass.
My uncle once explained to me why he barely ever trims his bushes. "I want them to express themselves," he said, comparing his free-flowing shrubs to the neighbors' which were stiff and buzzcut as military sentries.
So I used to read "Old Henry" for my kids. Now it is at my bedside, along with the magazines and feng shui books, all reminders that if I want to nurture my mind, I'll have to give up the landscaping and such, and while the water in the basement must be mopped up lest anyone else break a bone, that we actually do have the freedom to surrendur to nature, let it grow and grow around us, and in that sweet surrendur, curl up defeatedly with a book.