Books for April, 2005

The Well of Lost Plots by Jasper Fforde. First time read.

Something Rotten by Jasper Fforde. First time read. I will keep buying and reading whatever this guy has published.

Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell by Susannah Clarke. First time read. This novel runs 782 pages, so I didn't knock it off in a day or two, as I usually do with books. It is a peculiar sensation to be engrossed in a book for a better part of a week, especially if you haven't read it before. Yes, it reminded me of Jane Austen. It reminded me, obviously, (on a much larger scale) of Pat Wrede's Mairelon the Magician series, and her Kate-and-Cecy collaborations with Caroline Stevermer (1crowdedhour) with its examination of an alternative history set in England during Napoleonic war, where magic really works. I wonder at Neil Gaimon's blurb: "Unquestionably the finest English novel of the fantastic written the last seventy years." Does that mean Neil puts it above Tolkien? Or is Tolkien sort of grandfathered in as the head of the field? (Time Magazine's blurb: "...combinea the dark mythology of fantasy with the delicious social comedy of Jane Austen into a masterpiece of the genre that rivals Tolkien." That seems to cover all the bases.)

Crispin: The Cross of Lead by Avi. First time read. This was a Newbury Award book.

Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants by Ann Brashares. First time read.

Second Summer of the Sisterhood by Ann Brashares. First time read.

Girls in Pants: Third Summer of the Sisterhood by Ann Brashares. First time read. I swiped all of these from Fiona's library basket, and I really liked them all. She seemed to me to write about girls with sympathy and humor and compassion, and an eye for the absurd. I liked Carmen, how she always knew when she was about to do the wrong thing but still couldn't stop herself from doing it. I liked how she handled Bridget being an undiagnosed bipolar without ever quite coming out and saying it. She captured the awkwardnesses of their relationships with boys and with their parents, and how they change as the girls grow up. She also captured well the ambivalence the girls have about growing up and changing, both physically and emotionally.

Well, no repeats this month. Good show, Peg. Am now reading Inkheart by Cornelia Funke, so that will start next month's list. I seem to be going through a YA binge right now.

May Day Parade

You never quite know what to expect with the weather in Minneapolis when May Day rolls around. Some years it's seventy-five degrees out, and you get downright hot when you sit in the sun. Sometimes, you get a cold, drenching rain.

Today, for heaven's sake, it was snowing--well, only sporadically, sort of like God's Own Dandruff. This, of course, was not enough to cancel our plans to go the famous Minneapolis May Day Parade, put on by the Heart of the Beast Puppet and Mask Theatre (and a volunteer cast of hundreds). Snow on May Day? Bah, we laugh at snow. We simply put on our winter coats and gloves, filled thermoses with hot coffee and chocolate, and sallied forth.

We sat at the corner of Bloomington and 34th, where the parade turns to head toward Powderhorn Park. We arrived early, set up our folding chairs, and sat back to watch the crowd. A man standing on the sidewalk behind me who looked sort of like Santa Claus in the autumn of his years had an accordion out, playing sprightly little tunes that made me think of Paris in April. Other parade watchers had brought instruments, too: drums, a wooden flute. One couple in maybe their early fifties did a Schottische on the sidewalk to the accordion, beaming at each other. A raggle-taggle crew went up and down the street on towering custom-altered bicycles. I looked out over the crowd and this is what I saw: babies in slings, shawls and strollers, dogs with collars decorated with flowers and ribbons, mardi gras beads, tiaras, insect antenna hats, balloon sellers on skates, rickshaws, people drawing hopscotch patterns in the middle of the street with sidewalk chalk, people wearing jester hats, butterfly wings, dreadlocks, tutus, balloon animal hats, political buttons, Dr. Who scarves, and cloaks. Many were in their winter coats; about fifty percent were wearing gloves.

This was what I saw when the parade started: marching bands that played lying down in the middle of the street (trumpets, saxaphones, banjos, tubas, ukeles, gamelons, many many drums, etc.) The bass drum was pushed in a shopping cart. There was a grand Trojan horse decorated with gold lame. How tall was it? Eighteen or twenty feet tall? There was a Tyrannosaurs Rex skeleton, a twelve-foot puppet with one operator, which stuck its head in the crowd, delicately removed hats, "chewed them up" and spat them back out. There were cowbells, hula skirts, shopping cart formations and races, jugglers, dancing earthworms twenty feet in length made of painted cardboard and duct tape (when was the last time you saw a dancing earthworm in a parade? I ask you), towering puppets with serene mask-faces, butterfly wings, banners and ribbons and staffs and wands, fire spirits in wild neon red, orange and yellow, water spirits who sailed their water banners over the crowd so that the ribbons trailed through the children's hands, dancing multicolored butterflies, paper mache mountains and forests and animals. The Tree of Life, recumbent, rolled by, swathed in black. There were long narrow black banners carried by people in black, listing the names of soldiers, peace workers and civilians killed in the Iraq war. I wasn't the only one wiping away tears at all the names. There were jumping stiltwalkers and strutting stiltwalkers and dancing stiltwalkers. There were roosters that crowed and waved brave ribbons and danced on huge orange and yellow feet. There were roller derby girls in fishnet stockings and naturalists who walked naked with only barrels to protect their modesty (I mean come on! 37 degrees!) There were barechested South American dancers, noisy with cowree shells, wild with feathers. There were dancing, chanting hare krishnas. Falun Gong, Minnesota Atheists, church schools, political candidates, kids drum/hip hop dance groups, pagans, (one man wore a fantastical costume, rather like Charles II, with wig, and 17th frock coat: and a two foot long stuffed penis sticking out in front of him, draped with strings of pearls Edited to add: selkie_b informs me that "he" is actually a woman). Bullhorns and tamborines, serapes, incense, chants in Spanish and Chinese, wheelchairs and scooters and morris dancers waving handkerchiefs, jingling madly . . . The parade walkers waved wildly and threw candy and ribbons and handed out leaflets and cried "Happy May Day!" And the onlookers clapped and cheered and waved peace signs and booed the villains and cried "Happy May Day!" back.

We didn't go to the Tree of Life Ceremony in the park. It was so cold, and one of us had to find a restroom, and Delia had a piano lesson at 4:00, and well, we didn't go. We regret it, but we'll join you, minnehaha and friends, next year, assuming the weather is more cooperative.

Happy May Day, everyone. I wish you peace and justice and fair wages and dependable health care, and a happy, thriving community.

[Here are pictures from last year's parade, and here are the pictures of the Tree of Life Ceremony held in Powderhorn Park after the parade. ]

(mrissa reminds me that, unlike last year, we didn't do May Day baskets this year. It didn't even occur to me to do them. Nor did I remind the girls to go out and wash their faces with dew before the sun hits it. I blame the weather. It is difficult to think about and to do these spring-time rituals when it is snowing outside. For those of you who got a basket last year and are disappointed that you didn't find one on your doorknob this year, we're sorry. The violets probably would have frozen anyway. Next year, maybe.)

Edited to add Thanks to rutemple who provided pictures from last year's parade here. Leave me a comment if you see other parade reports; I'd like to read 'em.