Everyday
Creative: 30
Ways to Wake up Your Inner Artist
by Eric Maisel
Red Wheel; Cards edition, 2004
ISBN: 159003077X
Some time ago, I purchased a set of 48 playing-card-sized cards painted
by Susan Seddon Boulet. I’ve kept them by my computer and occasionally
dip into the deck, pull one out, and see if the colorful painting in
some way inspires me in my writing. Now, with his new “A Little Every
Day Decks,” creativity coach, writer, and psychologist Eric Maisel has
given me an exciting new deck and a simple, easy-to-use program to spur
creativity and inspiration. Each card contains a truth about
creativity: “Grow creative by astonishing yourself” or “Grow creative
by opening to serendipity,” for instance. The point of focus on each
card is book-ended by ideas about the truth and then an exercise that
can be done to enhance or change one’s experience and accessing of
creativity.
In an introductory section, Maisel tells us, “You can read
through the thirty cards in your deck, pick out the one that feels
particularly resonant, and try the simple exercise the card suggests.
You can use the cards as a thirty-day program, taking in one message a
day….You can shuffle the cards, cut the deck and let a random (is it
really random?) message speak directly to you.” All of these are good
ideas, and once you’ve gone through the deck, I have a hunch it will
pay off to go through it again. And again.
I’ve been examining and pondering the meanings of the cards for a
couple weeks now and have settled upon using one each day at random
before I begin my writing. In just a little over two weeks, I find that
each morning I am anticipating reading the next card. Often the idea
contained within stays with me all day, firing me on to carry out my
appointed tasks. The cards are not just for writers or artists but for
anyone seeking to expand, explore, or open up channels of creativity.
Highly recommended.
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The Angel and the Sword
by Cecilia Holland
304 pages, $14.95
Forge Books, 2001
ISBN: 0312868898
In the middle of the 9th century, a young girl lives in the royal
castle in medieval Europe with her mother, the queen, and her dastardly
father, Markold. The throne must pass through Queen Ingunn of
Roderick’s bloodline. Because she has had no sons, her only child,
Ragny, is the last descendant of the line. “Queen Ingunn had made a
mistake, and paid for it all her life, but now, with her life gone, she
saw a way to make amends” (p. 1). The queen lies on her deathbed. Her
last wish in order to make amends is to see her estranged daughter—and
to proclaim Ragny rightful heir to the throne as the new queen of
Spain. Unfortunately, it is not to be for Markold holds sway over the
soldiers and servants of the household. Though Markold does not keep
Ingunn from giving Ragny a key piece of information, before the queen
dies, he does prevent the proclamation of a new queen. Instead, he
intends to marry Ragny, his daughter, and force her to bear a son of
the Roderick line.
Ragny is young, slender, almost boyish. She hasn’t fully bloomed
to womanhood, and already she is facing dilemmas of the worst kind. She
cannot stay with Markold and claim her rightful place and to flee is a
risky proposition, but she chooses the latter course. With the king’s
men hot on her trail, she begins a journey to Francia disguised as a
young man named Roderick the Beardless. Little does she realize at
first that she has allies her foes cannot even imagine. Despite her
youth and inexperience, within Ragny beats the heart of a champion, a
lover, and a just person, capable of inspiring others so long as she is
attired as a man. What will happen if she drops the disguise?
I read the first few pages of this historical drama/romance in
the bookstore, was utterly hooked on this epic tale, and could hardly
wait to get home and read more about this warrior princess with strange
powers on her side. The twists and turns the story takes kept me
reading long into the night. The cast of characters—priests, the French
king, the Viking invaders, Frankish knights, and Seffrid, the sergeant
charged by Markold to track down Ragny—are all well-drawn as are the
battles and conflicts. Ragny’s journey, both external and internal, was
illuminated with grace and power by an author clearly comfortable with
bringing history to life. I loved this book! I’d have paid a lot closer
attention to medieval history in college if it had been this
mesmerizing. Highly recommended to anyone who loves a tale well told
about knights and kings, lost princesses, and justice stolen and
regained.
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Fall on Your
Knees
by Ann-Marie MacDonald
512 pages, $14.00 Touchstone; Oprah edition 2002)
ISBN: 0743237188
At heart, FALL ON YOUR KNEES is the family saga of Kathleen, Mercedes,
Frances, and Lily, the daughters of James and Materia Piper who live in
Cape Breton Island off Nova Scotia. But it is so much more—so big and
ambitious that it’s very much a tour-de-force. This long, detailed
novel builds and grows in power and tone, having a cumulative effect,
so that by the time you get to the end, you feel you've been walloped
with a big stick and fallen into a boggy pond where you are compelled
to continue swimming in order to investigate and understand its power.
The story begins in 1898 with James Piper and doesn’t end for
some seven-plus decades. In the interim there are enough twists and
turns to sink into melodrama, but the story never does that, perhaps
because the author has real style which is unique and very different
from the narrative techniques used in books nowadays. MacDonald writes
from an omniscient viewpoint, going in and out of various
consciousnesses, switching perspective and point of view with speed and
grace. She breaks every rule I can think of with point of view and she
gets away with it with style. I was impressed. It's very 19th century,
and that was jarring to me at first, but I quickly became accustomed to
the style. The first bit of the book was somewhat choppy, partly
because of the narrative style and partly because MacDonald structured
this book almost like a mystery. What are the secrets these girls hide?
What do their cryptic experiences mean? MacDonald moves about in time,
focuses on various characters (some of whom die unexpectedly), and the
reader has to keep several character arcs floating all at once even
though they come at you in a non-linear fashion. The middle hits a good
stride that carries right through to the final pages. Once you get to
the last couple of chapters, every little thing falls into place, and
you can’t help but feel you've been on a major journey!
The characterization of James, the father in the family, is one
of the clearest, most sympathetic, and ultimately maddening
descriptions of an utter monster of a man that I have ever seen. When
I've read about abusive characters in other books—for instance, Daddy
Glen in Dorothy Allison's BASTARD OUT OF CAROLINA—it was much easier to
see the character as a cruel, irredeemable monster for whom I felt no
sympathy. James, on the other hand, is rounded out in such a way that
although he commits evil, horrible deeds, I saw him as acting out of
ignorance, pain, and fear. He seemed believable. He seemed all too
real. In other words, I didn't see him as evil through and through. And
I saw some level of redemption for him at the end.
About halfway through, MacDonald writes: “But memory plays tricks.
Memory is another word for story, and nothing is more unreliable” (p.
255). In the same way that no one’s memories are absolutely accurate,
neither are those of the characters about whom she writes. They
misremember, in effect lying to themselves and to others. Failure to
correctly recall or failure to remember at all becomes a theme
throughout as characters attempt to protect themselves or others from
the pain and horrors they’ve experienced.
There were other key thematic issues that also struck me: women really
got a raw deal in the past; men also got a raw deal, but they were not
nearly so constrained as women; war crippled men in ways that weren't
observable on the outside; physical and sexual abuse scar not just the
victim, but also the perpetrator and everyone else in a family; many
habits brought over from the Old Country (and ANY Old Country counts)
did not translate well into more modern cultural practices; economic
pressures took a serious toll on families, as did war; people close to
one another, even when they love one another desperately, can do awful
things to one another; and people who lived in the past sometimes had
simply horrible lives that came to a bad end for no good reason at all.
MacDonald has a great way with tone and managed to make the book
extremely atmospheric—sometimes spooky, sometimes suspenseful, and
curiously maddening because she makes the reader wait to get answers to
questions one would naturally end up wondering along the way. Her use
of language, metaphor, and simile was quite wonderful at times, and
it's her steady accretion of images and details that really accentuates
the tragedies and events in this complex and fascinating novel. This is
one of those books I will probably always remember. It strikes me as
exactly the sort of book that should be read in colleges forevermore.
It's every bit as good as works by Piercy, Atwood, Tyler, and Morrison.
Outstanding debut novel by a talented Canadian writer.
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