Nancy

Long Time Gone

/ Nancy Palmer / Leave a comment

I’ve been Away for a while, but I’m back. Some things are the same. Some things have changed. The dog’s absence is very loud. The cats’ presence is sometimes audible, but more often manifests in a subtle shift of energies.

I’m writing. I remind myself it’s not my job to decide if it’s good or not. My task is to create. Others can judge. Or not. I have written a story recently that’s from my deepest self, but it may not be my story to tell. Self-reflection can be such a trap.

Friends have been dying. Objectively I know this is going to be happening more often; subjectively it feels like I should be able to concentrate *REALLY HARD* and *poof* it’ll be 1986 again, or still, and I’ll walk from the library to a particular tree and they’ll all be standing there; if I just focus, my body will be moving with those fluid easy steps and those songs will be on the radio, and the laughter will lift us and potential will swirl around us and how can it possibly be 40 years have passed?

I wouldn’t wish to undo the years. Too many much-loved people have been born, and I’d never wish them away. I am yearning for that kind of immediacy, though, the vividness of my life experience in those days. What is this feeling, that if I just reach hard enough, though, my friends are all still here, and there’s just something lacking in me that keeps me from really *getting* their presence?

I am sober, I promise.

Days, energy, people, though. They all feel like they’re just out of my sight/sound/touch.

It’s so frustrating, and it’s painful. I have an impulse to tear all the books from the shelves, hurl things around, scream at the top of my lungs. It won’t help, logic says. But my body feels my conflict. My jaw aches where I’ve been clenching it unknowingly. There’s that pulse twitching my eye again. I’m giving myself five minutes to sit in grief. Then I must, I *must* focus on now, who is still here, what is still possible. I must not miss today from longing for a different day. Past or future.

Five minutes of grief. Starting now.

Dorian Update

/ Nancy Palmer / Leave a comment

How High’s the Water, Mama?

The wind has been rattling our storm shutters and our spirits. But my household is safe, and I’m thankful. Gratitude sits side by side with concern for our northerly neighbors, and grief for the islands.

I’ve been in floods, seen the water rising. I was a child, and the memory is haunting. And we were able to flee. I can’t imagine being a parent in this situation.

A neighbor is mobilizing, and I’m grateful for that too. We’re sending water, food, blankets, funds. It’s not enough. How can it ever be enough? But it’s something.

I hope this post find you safe and well. Love to you all.

GBR #3: Nancy Springer

/ Nancy Palmer / 3 Comments

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Nancy Springer, sketched directly in pen, then colored with crayon. Because CRAYONS!

I Am Morgan le Fay

At last: I reveal myself! Quail before me, mortal child! Down the long years have I journeyed…

Wait..this isn’t actually a declaration of my secret identity.  (That’s for another time.)

The Great Balticon Readathon continues with a look into the Arthurian realm with the very prolific Nancy Springer. Springer has broken the 50 book barrier. Think about that for a minute. Imagine the sheer linear feet of bookshelf space. Has it sunk in? Great! Now that you’re properly wide-eyed, let’s continue.

I Am Morgan Le Fay is one of those books marketed as Young Adult that so many of us who are no longer precisely young enjoy.

((Aside: Young…compared to what? We need a good term for these readers, and books these readers enjoy. A good book is a good book, and there should be no stigma attached to reading something outside of a prescribed age group. How about Aoung Ydult? Yes. That’ll do. End of aside.))

ahem…

One of the risks assumed in addressing such an often-referenced legend in a book is that the whole enterprise can so easily fall into cliché. Overfamiliarity can kill a reader’s interest.   Nancy Springer takes these familiar characters, as well as a number of brand-new ones (or old ones in new guises) and builds for them a world that is lyric and mystical and uniquely hers.

Morgan’s power comes from her otherworldly nature but, like her enchanted castle, the life she builds is based on very real, and quite primal, human emotions and experience. Aoung Ydults, and Young Adults too, will appreciate the psychological foundation for Morgan’s flawed choices. This book would make an excellent book discussion group, because it raises questions. Can an individual overcome family history? Are we truly able to choose our actions? Or are our decisions pre-determined by early experience? Is Morgan a trustworthy narrator? Do we believe her when (spoiler redacted)? Are there parallels to people we know in life? Do we believe them?

I Am Morgan le Fay is a very readable book. Springer’s prose is lyric without being overblown. It is crisp in places, lush with description in others, but the parts blend well. Very approachable. (Just as with Varley, though, I found myself more deeply touched by an animal death than by some human passings. Seems to be a theme beginning here in the GBR. Or, perhaps, it’s just me.)

And speaking of accessible, Nancy Springer’s back list is now available via Open Road as digital downloads! She’s also rocking an author blog on Goodreads, and tweets about things that matter to me (like dandelions, for example. Oh, and books.) Be sure to visit her author site for these links and more.

If you have been following along through the Readathon, you know that I am seeking out things about which I could have conversations with the various authors, should we meet at Balticon. Nancy Springer collects, among other circular things, Venn diagrams. Thus I have made one. It’s the thought that counts.

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