A Poet I Admire

Before April Poetry Month ends, I want to pay a small tribute poet Ted Kooser, who whose verses I’ve enjoyed courtesy of our public library.

Part of the bio at his official website:
Ted Kooser is a poet and essayist, a Presidential Professor of English at The University of Nebraska-Lincoln. He served as the U.S. Poet Laureate from 2004-2006, and his book Delights & Shadows won the 2005 Pulitzer Prize for poetry. His writing is known for its clarity, precision and accessibility.

Accessibility’s the key word that made his verses so enjoyable for me. Even with my limited enlightenment I could read his verses and understand them. I was happy to discover that his books are available on Amazon, in hard cover, paperback, and Kindle.

I see that, for those new to poetry writing, he’s published The Poetry Home Repair Manual: Practical Advice for Beginning Poets. I must order a copy, since some of my verses could stand a bit of repair!

From the blurb:
“Much more than a guidebook to writing and revising poems, this manual has all the comforts and merits of a long and enlightening conversation with a wise and patient old friend—a friend who is willing to share everything he’s learned about the art he’s spent a lifetime learning to execute so well.”

A Tale Well Told

The Ragtag Daily Prompt this morning is VIVID.

“Caught up in the river of people which flowed through the narrow streets, I wandered happily along under the sound of the bells, which competed with the subdued roar of voices.”

From THIS ROUGH MAGIC by Mary Stewart

The vivid description of Lucy’s first visit to the market on this island. Now available as an e-book, This Rough Magic was first published in 1964. Amazon blurb:
Lucy Waring, a young, out-of-work actress from London, leaps at the chance to visit her sister for a summer on the island paradise of Corfu, and what’s more, a famous but reclusive actor is staying in a villa nearby. But Lucy’s hopes for rest and romance are shattered when a body washes up on the beach and she finds herself swept up in a chilling chain of events.

I read this book, a compelling romantic mystery, a few weeks back and gave it five stars, though the ending does have some violence. This heroine isn’t one to avoid dangerous situations! Love how Lucy insists on rescuing the dolphin, and later the dolphin repays her in kind! It’s told in First Person and the character’s use of vivid words, phrases, and descriptions is amazing. I wanted to blog about this someday; today’s prompt can be my nudge.

For example, driving to town with the radio on: “Some pop singer mooed from under the dash.” I had to laugh. 🙂

In Chapter 4 Lucy, sunbathing on the beach, hears frantic chirps from the nearby woods and goes to see what’s troubling the birds. She spots a white Persian cat only a few feet from a baby blue tit, ready to spring, with the parent birds trying vainly to shoo the enemy away. So she grabs the cat. Though not happy, it submits to her holding it “while the parent birds swooped down to chivvy their baby out of sight.”

She carries the cat away and sets it down. “Still purring, he stropped himself against me a couple of times, then strolled ahead of me up the bank.”

This wording gives me such a vivid picture. However, I’ll be turning 70 on Monday and I’ve only seen the word STROP a few times in historical novels. Today it would be an anachronism – yesterday’s prompt word. I picture a man stropping a straight razor, but how many readers younger than me have no clue what the word means?

Anyway, Lucy follows the cat along a narrow path up the hill and comes upon a beautiful rose garden, where “the air zoomed with bees.” She admires “one old pink rose, its hundred petals as tightly whorled and packed as the layers of an onion.”

Here she meets the retired actor, Sir Julian, the cat’s owner, who tells her, “His name is Nit. Short for Nitwit. He’s a gentleman, but he has very little brain.”

A few minutes later… “The white cat rose, blinked at me, then swarmed in an elaborately careless manner up the wistaria, straight into Sir Julian’s arms.
“Did I say he hadn’t much brain? I traduced him. Do you think you could manage something similar?”

I had to look up TRADUCED, which means thoroughly insulted and offended. If you’re a lover of words, too, here’s a snippet from Merriam-Webster re: insults + my own examples:

TRADUCE: to expose to shame or blame by means of falsehood and misrepresentation. It’s one of several synonyms that mean “to injure by speaking ill of.” Choose traduce when you want to stress the deep personal humiliation, disgrace, and distress felt by the victim.

For statements that aren’t outright lies, MALIGN suggests specific and often subtle misrepresentation but may not always imply deliberate lying.
Like, “Guess what? John was on time for work this morning.”

ASPERSE implies continued attack on a reputation often by indirect or insinuated detraction.
“On time? John? That’s amazing!”

If you need to say that certain statements represent an attempt to destroy a reputation by open and direct abuse, VILIFY is the word you want.
“As long as he’s worked here, John’s been at least ten minutes late every morning.”

To make it clear that the speaker is malicious and the statements made are false, CALUMNIATE, though rarely heard these days, is a good option.
“The manager shook his head. Once in awhile John was late – but so were these others who were calumniating (or slandering) him.”

SLANDER stresses the suffering of the victim. It’s a false charge or misrepresentation which defames and damages another’s reputation.

Keelhauling Anachronisms

The Ragtag Daily Prompt this morning is ANACHRONISM. Ah! One writing topic about which I frequently harangue caution younger writers.

One area that comes to mind is words and expressions. How many readers know what KEELHAUL means? Likewise, when I see something that comes from a 70s or 80s sit-com being said by a character in the 1930s, it grates. The expression, “Been there; done that,” didn’t exist in my youth. As to our prompt yesterday, EMBIGGEN, please don’t use it in your 1920s mystery or WWII story!

Another area that comes to mind is how effective birth control has changed society.

Grandma had 14 children, spread out over 28 years — the youngest born when she was 48. Her daughter Helen had 17. We once visited a family that had eleven–the youngest six months old and the oldest almost fourteen. As I do family tree research I see evidence of this same prolificacy, even if infant mortality was high.

I also see evidence that some writers born after the 1960s seem to have little idea how things worked before the Pill. They create promiscuous girls and put them in a setting where a young lady wouldn’t have dared. Girls have affairs with no consequences. Fat chance!

Social mores kept most girls on the straight and narrow–abstinence being the only sure means of birth control. Should a girl lose her purity she risked falling pregnant. Especially before the 1920s she’d risk becoming a social outcast, tainting her family with scandal–especially her sisters–and losing hope for a decent marriage. You see this in Pride and Prejudice, where Lydia’s whole family would have been disgraced by the scandal of her running off with Wickham. Only the hasty forced marriage of those two allowed her sister Elizabeth to wed Mr Darcy.

Seldom mattered if the girl had consented or not, she was blamed. If a victim spoke up, lawyers would tear her life to shreds in court. “Shotgun weddings” were many. Thousands, if not millions, of young women lost their lives in botched back-street abortions. Babies were born in secret and confined to orphanages. (Read Oliver Twist.) Anyone who wants to write about illicit affairs in the pre-Pill era and get a good picture of the mindset back then should read the first half of Ben Wicks’ compilation, Yesterday They Took My Baby.

We had such a situation in our clan. Grandma’s sister went to teach school in a small SK town and met and became engaged to a young man. I know not the intimate details, but when she fell pregnant he left for parts unknown. Took off, as we say, and left her to face the music. She died giving birth to twins and Grandma had to go bring her body home. On her 1904 death registration “cause of death” was left blank. Great-Grandma would have nothing to do with this “fallen daughter” and wouldn’t allow her to be buried in the family plot because she’d disgraced them. The twins were given to relatives–a childless couple.

And the fellow? Apart from whatever twinges of conscience he may have felt, it was no problem for him! No, the double standard seems so unfair, but that’s how it was. A writer can’t correct history by freeing her female characters from the normal consequences women did face. Prior to WWI few young women had money, or even the means to earn any, so running away from parental wrath often meant putting yourself out on the street and into the hands of “white slavers.” Even when I was young, an uneducated woman could barely manage to pull in a wage that would house and feed her.

I see in my family tree there were a few small families, perhaps because the couple worked out some birth control, but more often because of health issues. For single girls of that era, perhaps a botched abortion might render a young woman infertile. Even so, the talk! Communities were closer; everyone knew. The gossip, upturned noses and social rejection were serious. Some families would rally round, some would cast out the sinner. Some parents quickly married off the wretched girl to whoever would have her. Some girls took that option themselves.

This is not 1800s stuff; this was the scene when I was a girl in the 1950s. Writers need to research the social mores of the area in which they’re setting their story. Please, rid your work of post-Pill anachronisms and make your stories as true to their times as you can.

Agatha Christie: Plot Pro

The Ragtag Daily Prompt today is QUEST.

I’ve read several of Agatha Christie’s novels in the past few weeks, including One Two, Buckle My Shoe and Five Little Pigs. Even though her tales involve crimes, I enjoy the old-fashioned flavor. Characters are relatively polite; the language is clean; usually immorality is alluded to discreetly. Her two famous detectives are rarely in any danger themselves so suspense is at a level I can tolerate. And the reveal is usually a surprise.

Her two famous sleuths, Hercule Poirot and Miss Marple, are presented with a mystery and begin their quest for the truth. In my latest read, The Peril at End House, Poirot has declared himself retired; he will no longer use his little gray cells in chasing down evildoers. But lo and behold! A crime lands in his lap in the seaside vacation town where he and Captain Hastings are spending some R&R time.

I have to hand it to Mrs Christie: she has an amazing talent for building her plot into a pyramid, adding clues and suspects here and there as she goes. Then when you think you’ve reached the pinnacle and have a fairly good idea whodunit, her detective flips the whole thing upside down! In this story I had very little idea who the culprit would be – maybe because there were several culprits revealed. If you haven’t read it yet, it’s well worth reading!

I’ve also read two stories involving her Scotland Yard Superintendent Battle: The Secret of Chimneys and The Seven Dials Mystery. These involve espionage & subversion type crimes. In both books the flip is barely believable. In both, when I got to the final reveal I was saying , “Wait a minute! If this is true then why did that person do such and such? If he’s who he claims to be, why didn’t he recognize her, when they surely would have known each other?”

I’m quite a stickler for all these things adding up and behavior making sense. However, I found these books just as interesting as her other tales, even if I did have to suspend my disbelief to accept some of the facts as revealed.

My Week in Haiku

wrung-out dishcloth
hanging over the sink
fourth day of chemo

That’s how I felt yesterday. 😦

Not sure if I can blame the pills, which I started taking Sunday morning, or if it was “just a headache” such as I have now and then. Tuesday night I went to bed with one, which persisted until morning, giving me some queasy moments. At 4 am I prayed a desperate prayer for relief, which did come, thankfully. My headache eased up to bearable. Pain meds made me drowsy all morning, so I spent a good part of it napping in the recliner. Felt so much better in the afternoon.

sunshine after the storm a petrichor of gratitude

Sunday and Monday my oomph level was somewhere below sea level. At times like that, I read a lot. Now I’ve started Lost Luggage by Samantha Tonge. (Is it true that in England airports send unclaimed luggage to an auction and anyone can buy them?)

Thankfully I feel back to normal this morning, so I trust this will be a more productive day. I’ve already evicted some dust bunnies – returned them to the great outdoors where they can roam at will.

dust bunnies
gather in my corners
one more chapter

Tuesday morning I was having a serious problem with my Kobo e-reader when I tried to change the account’s e-mail address. I messed with it for an hour or so, but couldn’t reconnect to our Wifi here. I took it over to my daughter’s place after school; it took my twelve-year-old grandson about five minutes to get me all set up again and my latest purchases downloaded. Of course. 😉