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Happy Friday! A few random bits...
* Several friend have posted this news. If you have four-legged family members, please check it out: Purina pet food has started making dogs and cats ill.
* Last weekend the fantastic DarkCargo had a wonderful AtHomeCon, and I was interviewed about my upcoming "Taking Harry Seriously: The Artistry and Meanings of the Harry Potter Saga" graduate course at the Mythgard Institute.
* If you love SF genre history as I do, don't miss Jess Nevins' series at io9, which speculates about which works might have received the Hugo Awards if they'd started back in the 1880's rather than the 1950's. Here are the "Victorian Hugos" thus far: 1885, 1886, 1887, and 1888.
It's that time when I start thinking about the year in retrospect. It probably will take me several posts to get this out of my system(!), but here's a start:
( My Publications in 2011 )
The quotes for the day are two passages I particularly loved from Barry Day's Sherlock Holmes and the Seven Deadly Sins Murders (my review is here).
[Holmes, Watson, and Lestrade at 221B]
How often had the three of us sat here like this, I reflected, while events grave and gay, some of them affecting the highest in the land, were unfolding around us. How often had the decisions we had arrived at in this room changed the lives of hundreds, even though they were never to be aware of it?
We were an ill-sorted trio. Holmes, thin and angular, perched in his chair at a moment like this, as if ready to take flight. Lestrade, small, almost - if I'm honest - ferrety but as tenacious as any of that under-rated species when he had determined his target. And me - how did I view myself? A middle-aged ex-soldier of no particular distinction with a war wound that played up in the damp weather. And yet that remarkable man, Holmes had told me on more than one occasion that I completed him - so who was I to argue. Certainly the three of us had survived more than a few adventures together and it seemed as though we were about to embark upon another.
[Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes talking]
"...the strangest thing of all is that, deep down, they are the closest of friends. The need each other. The one defines the other."
"Rather like Watson and myself?" said Holmes and I fancy he was only half joking, which pleased me more than a little.
Mycroft let the remark pass.
* Several friend have posted this news. If you have four-legged family members, please check it out: Purina pet food has started making dogs and cats ill.
* Last weekend the fantastic DarkCargo had a wonderful AtHomeCon, and I was interviewed about my upcoming "Taking Harry Seriously: The Artistry and Meanings of the Harry Potter Saga" graduate course at the Mythgard Institute.
* If you love SF genre history as I do, don't miss Jess Nevins' series at io9, which speculates about which works might have received the Hugo Awards if they'd started back in the 1880's rather than the 1950's. Here are the "Victorian Hugos" thus far: 1885, 1886, 1887, and 1888.
It's that time when I start thinking about the year in retrospect. It probably will take me several posts to get this out of my system(!), but here's a start:
( My Publications in 2011 )
The quotes for the day are two passages I particularly loved from Barry Day's Sherlock Holmes and the Seven Deadly Sins Murders (my review is here).
[Holmes, Watson, and Lestrade at 221B]
How often had the three of us sat here like this, I reflected, while events grave and gay, some of them affecting the highest in the land, were unfolding around us. How often had the decisions we had arrived at in this room changed the lives of hundreds, even though they were never to be aware of it?
We were an ill-sorted trio. Holmes, thin and angular, perched in his chair at a moment like this, as if ready to take flight. Lestrade, small, almost - if I'm honest - ferrety but as tenacious as any of that under-rated species when he had determined his target. And me - how did I view myself? A middle-aged ex-soldier of no particular distinction with a war wound that played up in the damp weather. And yet that remarkable man, Holmes had told me on more than one occasion that I completed him - so who was I to argue. Certainly the three of us had survived more than a few adventures together and it seemed as though we were about to embark upon another.
[Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes talking]
"...the strangest thing of all is that, deep down, they are the closest of friends. The need each other. The one defines the other."
"Rather like Watson and myself?" said Holmes and I fancy he was only half joking, which pleased me more than a little.
Mycroft let the remark pass.