Category: <span>Books</span>

So she now has the internet and technically could be blogging, but does she?

No.

Instead she points you toward PagePlane.com with it’s fun header and lovely wealth of design resources.

It seems that the writing in the fingers needs sufficient time to warm back up and the fingers aren’t exactly sure where to start while also otherwise being preoccupied with lovelies such as rotoscoping and GilmoreGirls (*yes I did just say GilmoreGirls) and sometimes-lovelies such as branding. Yes. And other homework.

Basically things are progressing at a very standard rate-an even plane. Small things only. Like coffee today with an *Indonesian girl she only knows a little bit from uni. Like Pratchett novels. Like minute progressions to different perspectives. Little conversations about church. Bedtime conversations with CS Lewis…her own head. And the teeter on the edge of what feels like some bigger conversations/explorations with God which currently have no tangibility whatsoever – maybe they’ll get relevant when I work out what they actually are?

All up it’s rather boring but rather nice. I am not sure that is a good thing.

*Relevant country totally just included for you Sammy

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The darstadly story continues, we should have internet connected back up by next Saturday… in the meantime, I shall continue dying of deprivation.

Meanwhile…

{Bec continues enjoying uni, and actually got inspired about public speaking}

{Bec goes on yearly work conference, and yes there were hundreds of kiddies}

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{Bec reads a lot of books}

{Bec promises to write up a review for this book, yes in a small way she was sucked in by the lovely cover, but it should be interesting and hey she gets a free copy.}

For your interest and perusal, check out Colin McCahon – a NZ artist, who does interesting things with words. My lecturer claims he is no typographer, just a fine artist. There is apparently a subtle difference in how they put letters together. Whatever. I love McCahon’s work, it’s beautifully naive in so many respects but still immensely clever.

Books Life

book9Mike Hogan and David Crowder’s book Everybody wants to go to Heaven but nobody wants to die was a lovely surprise. I found it randomly one day on sale (so bought it)- didn’t even know the man had written a book or two despite loving his music for quite a while.

It is a really interesting and honest look at death and grieving and place of the soul in current culture. Although personally having minimal actual musical interest, the speckled lot of bluegrass history added value to the theme and as history tends to be, was actually quite interesting.

I loved the book for it’s Pratchett style footnotes and humor – it’s candidity, and the beautiful sections of prose interspersed through the bulk of the text. It was a relatively easy read once I got used the unusual format and the small sections made it great for that ‘last few minutes before bed’ thing. The combo of personal story, theory, history, prose, IM thoughts and general wikipedia fun was really good mix for me personally, and I would go back and tackle it again sometime to probably get a lot more from it.

Besides all of the thumbs ups for what’s inside, if you don’t care and just want to judge it by it’s cover, by all means, go ahead. I reckon the cover is pretty fun itself.

Books Christianity Culture Humor

confusionI like the odd challenging book once in a while. Last night I started One Hundred Years of Solitude. It’s a novel by Nobel Prize winning, Gabriel Garcia Marquez and translated from Spanish.

Currently I’m amiss as to what is going on with each particular character as they all have names that blend into one, I can’t help but wonder if that is kind of the point.

I like finding something like beauty in confusion and like the idea that it is intentional. Perhaps it would broaden our perspective of life and the world and of God if we sometimes allowed ourselves to think in a similar way.

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Vegemite to the rest of the world must seem like some kind of thrush inducing product… it’s not. I haven’t had vegemite for a while, but this morning I bothered. I bothered simply to celebrate Australian, not because I am particularly patriotic (That’s an American word isn’t it?) but because of the fine authors this usually unimaginative public has produced. My patriotism extended only as far as my toast, as my coffee wound up in a Starbucks mug. I am enjoying the coffee more.

But Australian authors. They bring a certain gritty depth filled narrative that you don’t find elsewhere.

Let me give you some names.

The life and blood of my growing up years, bar Winton/Courtney who are more recent discoveries. I think that I found out more from some of these books than I should have at certain ages, yet they are the books I return to because I am entranced by the characters.

I have discovered more about redemption, about life from fiction than I ever have from non-fiction, and non-fiction has become a large part of my world the past few years.

Last night I think that learnt more about living out Christianty from the short story, ‘The Turning’ (in the book the Turning), than I have ever from reading the ’emergents’. Stories have the ability to hit a place that theories can never go.

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