I am reading a novel right now written by a friend and cringing as every fat person in the story is represented as either fooolish or evil. What an easy target we person of planetary proportions make. It's not that there aren't plenty of skinny bad guys, but their skinniness is generally not included in the perjorative descriptions of these characters.
"The media's portrayal of fat people is often inappropriately negative, and that the media promotes people's fear of fat and obsession with thinness. " Council of Size and Weight Discrimimation
I would hope in these enlightened times we would know better than to stereotype anyone, including people who are fat. Many of the other "minority groups" are no longer confined to the negative in characterization. I have written before about the tendency of novelists to make sinister characters people with disabilities.
This is not a call for "political correctness" but for authors, who after all both are subject to and convey in literature the biases of a culture, to look into your hearts and decide whether you really believe fat people are bumbling greedy oafs or nasty rapacious dictators, like the two characters in the book I am reading now. Do you want to be part of that chain of bigotry reinforced with every generation of readers?
Let's start rethinking how we perceive and portry fat people too, OK?
Some years ago I read a book about sleep. The book works through a number of theories about why we sleep, pointing out that a sleeping animal is an animal at risk of what could be a fatal surprise. The author analyzed many old and new theories, mystical, psychological and phsyical, concluding that sleep's purpose to let our minds go "offline" to process the past day's data, much as certain computers used to be put offline at night for data runs.
I don't know why we sleep, and for that matter I don't know why we dream. But talking with someone today about his and my typical dreams, I realized I was hearing something familiar that I had not before associated with dreams. That is that the same mind that, in my case, processes story lines in my waking life, continues to do so when I am asleep. I don't think this is peculiar to writers at all, although I would be interested to know if anyone has explored whether people involved in the arts dream differently than the rest.
Jim was telling me about dreams he has about our cats. Invariably in the dreams he is worried that a missing window or a gap in a wall or some other insecure spot in our home will attract one of the cats who will then get out and get lost. (We keep our cats inside, the fact being that inside cats live an average of nine years longer than outdoor cats.) It struck me his dreams have a literary element in them, that being the conflict that takes the stories situation and throws it into flux. But the part of our brains that write dream stories do not concern themselves with resolution and denouement. They are focused entirely on disruption. They like the plot to keep going. So whenever a dream thrown into conflict comes anywhere close to a resolution, that part of the brain, the storyteller, twists the plot.
A very common dream of mine involves the exposition of my being in a shopping neighborhood in a city. There are quaint malls or a long street of shops. In the dreams I am intrigued by the different types of shops, many of them the same from dream to dream. But all my storyteller wants to do is throw some sort of conflict in, so my brief enjoyment of the little shop with jewelry and scarves from India is disrupted by my realization that I have missed my bus home. I try to find my bus stop, but I can't read the schedule. I look for a pay phone. They are all occupied. When I finally find one, I don't understand how to work the phone. It's not like any key pad I have ever seen. And so it goes on, with one conflict after another, until my storyteller loses interest or starts up with an entirely new exposition.
It seems that for whatever reason we dream, our brains like to spin yarns. Like a weekly movie theater serial they keep the story going by creating cliffhangers that drift into new subplots. It's enough to exhaust a person.
Trailer of the latest project of the Film Association Schwyz (FAS Studios) HRUOTLAND - THE LEGEND OF ROLAND. The young knight Roland joins the estate of Charlemagne and witnesses dark plots of cunning politicians and religious fanatics. HRUOTLAND is a tale about heroism, religion and its abuse, power and manipulation of history.
What do the dates in dictionaries with etymology, or word origins, mean?
Many people mistakenly assume that the dates associated with word origin refer to first use of the word. They merely indicate the oldest known record of the word's use, in a document, for instance. The word itself is older, sometimes considerably older. Chances are that any word evolved from another already in use and with the same or a similar meaning. People who say, "They did not have that word in 1150" or the like are probably misunderstanding what the dates mean. The etymology is useful to gauge likely origin. The following are terms associated with the Middle Ages with standard definitions followed by etymolohy supplied by http://www.etymonline.com/ .
leman A sweetheart or lover archaic for "sweetheart, paramour," from M.E. leofman (c.1200), from O.E. leof "dear" + man "human being, person." Originally of either gender, though archaic usage tends to limit it to women.
merlon A solid portion between two crenels in a battlement or crenelated wall. "solid part of a battlement," 1704, from Fr. merlon, from It. merlone, aug. of merlo "battlement," perhaps a contraction of mergola, dim. of L. mergae "two-pronged pitchfork."
wicket A small door or gate, especially one built into or near a larger one. early 13c., "small door or gate," from Anglo-Fr. wiket, from O.N.Fr. wiket (Fr. guichet) "wicket, wicket gate," probably from P.Gmc. *wik- (cf. O.N. vik "nook") related to O.E. wican "to give way, yield" (see weak). The notion is of "something that turns." Cricket sense of "set of three sticks defended by the batsman" is recorded from 1733.
bard One of an ancient Celtic order of minstrel poets who composed and recited verses celebrating the legendary exploits of chieftains and heroes. mid-15c., from Scottish, from O.Celt. bardos "poet, singer," from PIE base *gwer- "to lift up the voice, praise." In historical times, a term of contempt among the Scots (who considered them itinerant troublemakers), but one of great respect among the Welsh. "All vagabundis, fulis, bardis, scudlaris, and siclike idill pepill, sall be brint on the cheek." [local Scottish ordinance, c.1500] Subsequently idealized by Scott in the more ancient sense of "lyric poet, singer." Poetic use of the word in English is from Gk. bardos, L. bardus, both from Gaulish. Bardolatry "worship of Shakespeare (the 'Bard of Avon')" first recorded 1901.
tabard A tunic or capelike garment worn by a knight over his armor and emblazoned with his coat of arms. mid-13c., from early Sp. tabardo and O.Fr. tabart (12c.), of unknown origin. Originally a coarse, sleeveless upper garment worn by peasants, later a knight's surcoat (hence the name of the tavern in "Canterbury Tales").
pavan A slow, stately court dance of the 16th and 17th centuries, usually in duple meter. "slow, stately dance," 1535, from Fr. pavane (1524), probably from Sp. pavana, from pavo "peacock" (from L. pavo), in ref. to the bird's courting movements. But some see an It. origin and trace the name to Padovana "Paduan." Possibly there was a merger of two distinct dance words.
mace A heavy medieval war club with a spiked or flanged metal head, used to crush armor. "heavy metal weapon with a spiked head," c.1300, from O.Fr. mace "a club, scepter," from V.L. *mattea (cf. It. mazza, Sp. maza "mace"), from L. mateola "a kind of mallet." The L. word probably is cognate with Skt. matyam "harrow, club," O.C.S. motyka "mattock," O.H.G. medela "plow."
seneschal An official in a medieval noble household in charge of domestic arrangements and the administration of servants; a steward or major-domo. 1393, from O.Fr. seneschal, from Frankish Latin siniscalcus, from P.Gmc. *sini-skalk "senior servant;" first element cognate with L. senex "old" (see senile); second element deom P.Gmc. *skalkoz "servant" (cf. Goth. skalks, O.H.G. scalc, O.E. scealc; see marshal).
joust A combat between two mounted knights or men-at-arms using lances; a tilting match. c.1300, from O.Fr. joster "to joust, tilt," from V.L. juxtare "to approach, come together, meet," originally "be next to," from L. juxta "beside, near," related to jungere "join" (see jugular). The sport was popular with Anglo-Norman knights. "These early tournaments were very rough affairs, in every sense, quite unlike the chivalrous contests of later days; the rival parties fought in groups, and it was considered not only fair but commendable to hold off until you saw some of your adversaries getting tired and then to join in the attack on them; the object was not to break a lance in the most approved style, but frankly to disable as many opponents as possible for the sake of obtaining their horses, arms, and ransoms." [L.F. Salzman, "English Life in the Middle Ages," Oxford, 1950]
liege A lord or sovereign to whom allegiance and service are due according to feudal law. word used by a vassal to address his superior or lord in the feudal system, c.1300, from Anglo-Fr. lige (1292), from O.Fr. liege, perhaps from L.L. laeticus "cultivated by serfs," from laetus "serf," which probably is from a Gmc. source (cf. O.E. læt "half-freedman, serf;" O.H.G. laz, O.Fris. lethar "freedman"). Or the M.E. word may be directly from O.H.G. leidig "free." Hence, liege-man "a vassal sworn to the service and support of a lord, who in turn is obliged to protect him" (c.1350).
Crusade Any of the military expeditions undertaken by European Christians in the 11th, 12th, and 13th centuries to recover the Holy Land from the Muslims. 1706, respelling of croisade (1577), from M.Fr. croisade, Sp. cruzada, both from M.L. cruciata, pp. of cruciare "to mark with a cross," from L. crux (gen. crucis) "cross." Figurative sense of "campaign against a public evil" is from 1786.
dungeon A dark, often underground chamber or cell used to confine prisoners. c.1300, from O.Fr. donjon "great tower of a castle," from Gallo-Romance *dominionem, from L.L. dominium, from L. dominus "master" (of the castle; see domain). Sense of "castle keep" led to "strong (underground) cell" in Eng. pre-1338.
hauberk A long tunic made of chain mail. c.1300, from O.Fr. hauberc, earlier holberc, from Frank. *halsberg, lit. "neck-cover" (cf. O.H.G. halsberc), from hals "neck" + bergan "to cover, protect."
pilgrim A religious devotee who journeys to a shrine or sacred place. c.1200, pilegrim, from O.Fr. pelegrin (11c.), from L. peregrinus "foreigner," from peregre (adv.) "from abroad," from per- "beyond" + agri, locative case of ager "country" (see acre). Change of first -r- to -l- in Romance languages by dissimilation.
How to survive hard times is a challenge many American women are facing today. Riah McKenna is a young farm wife. Along with her husband, her son, and her best friend, the outcast Louise Kemp, she is struggling to survive the worst economic and environmental disaster in our nation's history.
This is a new epic launching with one new mini-episode put up each day. A blog invites you to contribute your reflections on how people respond when the chips are down.
Three ways to enjoy this new literary work:
(1) Movable Feast Method: start at the beginning and read a little each day, (2) Diet Method: with coffeecup in hand, read one episode a day (takes about a minute), or (3) Bakery Window Method: pick out individual episodes at random to find out more about Riah and her friends.
(There will be widgets and gadgets as soon as the author can get her daughter's boyfriend to tell her what those are. Until then, your patience and your participation are invited.)
There is something about the Americans who survived the Depression--our parents' and grandparents' generation--that has always fascinated me.
I think it takes a unique kind of courage to deal with hard times. It requires facing up to discouragement day after day. Our parents and grandparents did just that. My dad grew up on a cotton farm much like the one I describe in my work.
I spent 10 years writing this epic and 20 years waiting for it to find a platform. I studied oral histories and went to Washington D.C. There I was allowed to hold in my hands letters hand-written by farmers during the 1930's to President Roosevelt. Looking at those yellowing pieces of paper, I felt the living presence of that time. And I listened to my dad's stories of those years.
When you reach middle age, you begin to feel more strongly the desire to pass something on, pass something down. Literature and history are meant to do just that. As I add one episode a day to the Dust Bowl Story, I am hoping that the failures and successes of the characters in that story will be a support to us now.
Here’s a sample mini-episode. It takes place in a farmhouse in the 1930s, and Louise, Riah’s new friend, has come over to get a permanent. Riah is very quiet; Louise is very loud. But she is grateful to be at her friend’s house rather than with her husband. Riah has a good marriage; Louise does not.
64. The Permanent Goes On
Fine idea, Louise thought, To come here. True, the wave solution Burned in rings around her ears And down her cheeks. “Ow! Ow! Riah, Lord, You’re blinding me!” Her companion’s damp cloth Wiped her eyes. “All right,” said Louise, But with a pout. Good with her hands, Riah liked to learn. All intent, She scanned the diagram. Wielding combs As if they were dirt hoes, She would part the wet hair, Row by row. Each finger-width was daubed In wave solution, Cracked blue bowl. Soaked, Louise’s hair Turned russet-hued, Dark as homespun. Riah’s fingers stretched it And then rolled. Awkwardness now gone, She wound quick, Expertly tucking ends. That solution stinks To the high heaven, thought Louise. She shut stinging eyes, Tilting her head. Noses ran As odor thick as incense Wrapped both Riah and her client In its mist, Invading every nook. Riah’s fingertips were Dabbling, plashing. Out back, chickens Scratched, fussed amiably. Louise stretched her shoulders. She made believe That she lay on a beach: The big river She’d known as a girl. “Do you know, Riah–” She half-drawled the sound out, Teased the name– “I saw the Mississippi?” “Well, I swan,” said Riah, Busy marveling: How well she rolled! A novice, too. Miffed by her absorption, Louise tried For more impressive news: “My folks came from New Orleans. Ma was born there.” “New Orleans,” said Riah. Patty’d had a permanent. The others talked about it– Now she knew. “Your people–where they From?” inquired Louise. “Grandfolks, Massachusetts Come through Arkansas.” Louise eased in her chair. She yawned. Her scalp was tender– Riah didn’t hurt at all. The flies kept distant, Bumping on the wall. She wiped her face once more. “Do you know,” Louise said, sleepily, “What women call the curse In New Orleans?” “What?” said Riah, Not much keen to hear. She wound up a roller Nice and tight. “They call it,” Louise replied, “‘The flowers.’” Laying her head back, She closed her eyes. She laughed To herself. Outside, hens were scratching. “They say, ‘Got the flowers,’” She said, low.
Note: This is the first of an occasional series which will list feature films only, no television and no documentaries. If you know of films already released or soon to be released, please use Comments to add them. If you wish to list television episodes and documentaries in Comments, by all means, do!
On a frequent if somewhat random basis we invite authors of historical novels to use our comments section to tell our readers about their books, whether soon to be released, newly published or long published and much loved.
Please check outr right hand column for links to past round-ups.
If you simply have a novel you love and would like to share it with others, be our guest.
And there is no limit on how often you post specific titles here. The more the merrier!
, for example, the kid who steals from the swap meet is a fat kid. Auugustus Gloop is the first kid to go in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
. About the only characters allowed to be both fat and good are old men, like Santa Claus, and old women like, well, Mrs. Santa. How nice to run across someone like Hercule Poirot
!
