When I moved from one house to another
there were many things I had no room
for. What does one do? I rented a storage
space. And filled it. Years passed.
Occasionally I went there and looked in,
but nothing happened, not a single
twinge of the heart.
As I grew older the things I cared
about grew fewer, but were more
important. So one day I undid the lock
and called the trash man. He took
everything.
I felt like the little donkey when
his burden is finally lifted. Things!
Burn them, burn them! Make a beautiful
fire! More room in your heart for love,
for the trees! For the birds who own
nothing - the reason they can fly.
("Storage", by Mary Oliver, printed in Devotions, 2017)
Category: Bookish Thoughts (Page 3 of 43)
Do you bow your head when you pray or do you look up into that blue space?
Take your choice, prayers fly from all directions.
And don't worry about what language you use,
God no doubt understands them all.
Even when the swans are flying north and making
such a ruckus of noise, God is surely listening and understanding.
Rumi said, There is no proof of the soul.
But isn't the return of spring and how it
springs up in our hearts a pretty good hint?
Yes, I know, God's silence never breaks, but is that really a problem?
There are thousands of voices, after all.
And furthermore, don't you imagine (I just suggest it)
that the swans know about as much as we do about the whole business?
So listen to them and watch them, singing as they fly.
Take from it what you can.
("Whistling Swans", by Mary Oliver, printed in Devotions, 2017
“For a moment I though our client was suffering from batisimus belfritis – in other words, bats in the belfry.”
Dr Jotson in “The Schwottem ray”, The Complete Casebook of Herlock Sholmes, 1924
“With the approach of the holiday season I noticed alarming symptoms in my amazing friend, Mr. Herlock Sholmes. At frequent intervals his eyes would turn inwards and concentrate on the end of his aquiline nose. Then he would make a vicious sweep with his hand as though to remove an imaginary fly from the tip of his highly-developed proboscis. He would awake at night yelling that spotted starfish were jumping at him. These symptoms led me to the reluctant conclusion that Sholmes was suffering from a condition known to the medical profession as temporarius non compos mentis, or, in other words, a temporary attack of bats in the belfry.”
“The Mystery of the Vacant House”, The Complete Casebook of Herlock Sholmes, Charles Hamilton, printed 1921
This morning the redbirds' eggs
have hatched and already the chicks
are chirping for food. They don't
know where it's coming from, they
just keep shouting, "More! More!"
As to anything else, they haven't
had a single thought. Their eyes
haven't opened, they know nothing
about the sky that's waiting. Or
the thousands, the millions of trees.
They don't even know they have wings.
And just like that, like a simple
neighborhood event, a miracle is
taking place.
("This Morning", by Mary Oliver, printed in Devotions, 2017)
“When one can feel and appreciate the joys and sorrows of others, the right words will come naturally. Unkind words are the fruits of selfishness… There is no amount of brilliancy that can, in the affections of our friends, take the place of kindness of speech.”
Beautiful Girlhood, Mabel Hale, original publication date 1922, my copy printed 2001
Inscrutable – not capable of being searched into and understood by inquiry or study; incapable of being discovered, comprehended, or accounted for; incomprehensible; unfathomable; completely obscure or mysterious
“Your wife is quite lovely, you know, so doll-like and inscrutable.”
Grace Wexler to Mr Hoo, The Westing Game, Ellen Raskin, 1978
The Westing Game, by Ellen Raskin is young adult fiction at its finest. I remember listening to the audiobook as a kid – probably when I was middle school age. I was enamored with the story, the style, and especially the end. I have recommended it to people over the years, saying if you like a good game of chess, you’ll like The Westing Game.
At one point, I had two copies in my library. I bought the second one because I loved the book and couldn’t remember if I had a copy already.
Before I get to the story, I want to share a brief bit from the introduction which was written by the author’s close friend and editor Ann Durell.
“What a mind [Ellen Raskin] had! Mine was really put to the test in trying to keep it all straight in order to double-check her. She relied on me to do that and to tell her when her writing was ‘too adult.’ She said, with her usual candor, that she didn’t know what children’s books were like. She read only adult ones. But I never even tried to edit her ‘for children.’ She was too wise, too funny, too ingenious – and therefore unique – to tamper with in that way. She said that she wrote for the child in herself, but for once I think she was wrong. I think she wrote for the adult in children. She never disrespected them or ‘wrote down,’ because she didn’t know how.”
And I think that’s what I love about The Westing Game. The book itself is complex, a mystery with so many clues and details that you really have to be paying attention if you want to solve it before the end. However, you may notice (if you are a frequent visitor to my blog), I won’t have many New Words from The Westing Game. That’s because Ellen Raskin used simple, common words so her young audience would be able to follow along without much difficulty. You don’t have to remember all the details to enjoy The Westing Game.
What is the story of The Westing Game, you ask? Let me give you a bite from the beginning, because the author speaks for herself.
“The letters were signed Barney Northrup… and there was no such person as Barney Northrup.”
There. The mystery is set three paragraphs in. What strange letters could this non-existent person be sending?
Six letters were delivered to the future tenants of a new apartment building, Sunset Towers (which was a strange name because there were no towers and the building faced east). Advertised and talked up in such a way, the apartments were rented out to exactly the people who received the letters. “You’re in luck,” Barney Northrup told every one of them. “There’s only one apartment left. It was meant for you!”
“Who were these people, these specially selected tenants? They were mothers and fathers and children. A dressmaker, a secretary, an inventor, a doctor, a judge. And, oh yes, one was a bookie, one was a burglar, one was a bomber, and one was a mistake.”
How’s that for a beginning? The plot is thick, and we’re only in chapter one!
The tenants live in the building several months without incident. Some like each other; others don’t. But their lives are changed on Halloween, when a gruesome legend is combined with a dare, and the youngest tenant, Turtle Wexler, enters the old, abandoned house next door where she finds the corpse of the long lost resident, Samuel W. Westing.
Sixteen of the tenants are called on to attend the reading of the will and find they have been named heirs. They are separated into pairs, and then the will is read. It’s a bizarre set of rules, with a bizarre set of clues for each pair to help them discover who murdered Sam Westing. Yes, you read that right: Sam Westing was murdered.
Suddenly, all the tenants of Sunset Towers are thrown into a game of who-done-it.
The prize: Sam Westing’s two hundred million dollars.
The heirs begin to discover things about each other they never knew. Friendships are formed, suspicions rise, and to top it all, a heavy snowfall traps them all inside – with the bookie, the burglar, the bomber, the mistake, and the murderer.
Who killed Sam Westing? What do the clues mean? And who will pull Turtle’s braid next – resulting in a shin splitting kick?
And where does chess come in? Though it’s mentioned briefly during the first reading of the will, the significance of chess plays a greater role toward the end of the book. Strategy, precision, and patience are what help the winning heir in the end. That, and the wink of the chess master himself.
I really hope you will read this book. It’s easy; it’s fun. You don’t even have to be great at puzzles (or chess) to enjoy it. Just get your thinking cap and be ready to laugh.
I had quite forgotten how funny Herlock Sholmes is with his larger than life nose, even bigger pipe, and cocaine cask always nearby. And Dr Jotson, too, with his line of patients who drop like flies or can’t “stir abroad save in an ambulance”.
I also forgot that I didn’t actually finish reading The Complete Casebook of Herlock Sholmes. So I added it back in to my daily reading this week.
Herlock Sholmes, if you haven’t guessed, is a parody of the great detective Sherlock Holmes. A few years ago, just as I was starting this blog, I read Holmes and Sholmes in tandem. Some of the early Sholmes mysteries were nearly exact replicas of the original Holmes stories. For example, while Sherlock Holmes was clearing up the case of The Hound of the Baskervilles, Herlock Sholmes was investigating The Bound of the Haskervilles.
During World War I, Sholmes investigated cases of espionage and resolved issues of governmental waste and corruption, especially in the Red Tape Office, the Unanswered Letters Department, and the Circumlocution Department. Before and after the war, he helped locals find missing items, solved ghost mysteries, and befuddled Inspector Pinkeye’s New Year’s resolution.
I don’t know how many copies of the Herlock Sholmes archives there are, but if you ever see one in a used book store, snatch it up, especially if you love a good laugh and a comical parody. You won’t be disappointed.
“Out the kitchen window the sky rolls out. Apple blossoms fill all the orchard. The morning dove warms her bluing hope. I can hear Him, what He is telling the whole world and even me here: this is for you. The lover’s smile in the morning, the child’s laughter down the slide, the elder’s eyes at the eventide: this is for you. And the earth under your feet, the rain over your face upturned, the stars spinning all round you in the brazen glory: this is for you, you, you. These are for you – gifts – these are for you – grace – these are for you – God, so count the ways He loves, a thousand, more, never stop, that when you wake in the morning you can’t help turn humbly to the east, unfold your hand to the heavens, and though you tremble and though you wonder, though the world is ugly, it is beautiful, and you can slow and you can trust and you can receive each moment as grace.”
Ann Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts, 2010
Hi! I'm Cadie. Welcome to my Collection of Bookish Thoughts where I will share with you everything I love about books.