The one about purpose...

Viktor Frankl was right: the lack of purpose and meaning will kill you. I know his theory is a lot more extensive and slightly different but in the end it all comes to this: having a purpose is the only thing that will keep you alive when all goes to shit; when you are in the darkest, deepest hole and you can’t find a single ray of light to guide you out of it. Without a purpose, without meaning, what would be the point of keep on breathing when every freaking breath hurts like a thousand knives and your heart is breaking and there seems to be no hope whatsoever?

It doesn’t have to be a grand purpose. It just has to be important enough for you that it will make you move and reach out toward it when everything else is gone.

Do you know yours?

Memory and Dream

Memory and Dream by Charles de Lint
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I am not sure how I feel about this book. I love the idea that is the essence of this novel: that Isabelle's paintings can bring ancient spirits into this world. And yet... There were some really good parts but there were also way too many -and, a lot of the times, unnecessary- detailed descriptions that I feel slowed down the pace of the story too much. It took me a while to get into it (maybe after page 100) and, even then, I never really cared much about most of the characters, which is a problem, because if you don't care about the characters, you won't care about what happens to them. One of the few exceptions was John Sweetgrass. I fell in love with that character. He saved the book for me and was probably the reason I kept reading until the end.

Now, don't get me wrong: the book wasn't bad. It just wasn't great for me, either. It didn't grab me, not until almost the very end, when the story finally starts to pick up. But it's a 400 pages book so I felt that most of it was a slow building up to a climax that took too long to arrive.

Overall, the book was alright for me. It had some moments that truly enchanted me -and that's the reason I'm giving it 3 stars instead of 2- but there weren't enough of them in a novel that is this long.


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Of loss and love... Chapter 8 is up.

Here's a little teaser:

 “Anders.” 

He raised his head, surprised, and looked at her, the lines of concentration on his face dissolving as his eyes focused on her face; she could see a barely contained hunger in them. 

“Hawke…” he said softly and let her name hang in the air between them; the multiple undercurrents in his voice made it hard for Hawke to guess what he was thinking.

“Hi.”

“You come alone?” he asked her, his eyes searching behind her for someone else.

“Uh… yes,” she replied, puzzled by his question. “I just came by to see if you want to help me out with a job. If you’re not busy, that is-”

“I’ll help,” he answered almost before she finished talking.

“A…alright, then. Great! Varric and Aveline are already waiting for us.”

He raised an eyebrow, “…Not Sebastian?”

Her heart winced at the mention of his name and even though there was nothing in Anders’s clinic that could possibly remind her of Sebastian, his face seemed to shape itself out of the walls, out of the very air, to haunt her. 

(Read more...) 

 To read the story from the beginning, click here.

The Cygnet and the Firebird...

I finished reading this book (by Patricia A. McKillip) a few days ago and I’m having a hard time letting it go. I can tell because days have passed and I still don’t have the heart to start a new book; I find myself holding on to the remnants of the story, of the characters that found a secret way into my bones when I wasn’t looking and now refuse to let me move on. Not yet, they seem to whisper, Let us settle down between your cells before you begin filling them with new worlds…

So I’m going to let them. I owe them that much.

Do you know the feeling when you start reading a new book before the membrane of the last one has had time to close behind you? You leave the previous book with ideas and themes—characters even—caught in the fibers of your clothes, and when you open the new book, they are still with you.

—	The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield

Of loss and love... Chapter 7 is up.

Here's a little teaser:

 [...] He stopped moving completely, except for a raised eyebrow, when his gaze landed on the letter again; he had noticed on the envelope the name of the head of a noble family from one the northern Free Marches cities, the last one he had been able to visit in his ongoing campaign to retake Starkhaven. This family in particular had pledged to support him but had made no offer to help him with troops, like many other of the allies he had recruited. So Sebastian had allies, but no actual army with which to retake his city. 

Intrigued, he opened the letter and read the elegant writing arranged neatly all over the parchment, reminding him of the troops he so desperately needed. A troubled scowl painted his forehead when he finished reading it, and it took all his will not to crumble the parchment with his fingers. [...]

Rage and loathing crashed against him so hard they took all the air out of his lungs. With a shaking hand, Sebastian left the letter back on the desk and made a decision right there. He only had time to grab his shirt before he left his room, and, putting it on on his way out, went to look for the grand cleric.

(Read more...) 

 To read the story from the beginning, click here.

Of loss and love... Chapter 6 is up!

Here's a little teaser:

“Child, something is bothering you,” Elthina said as soon as Sebastian closed the Chantry’s massive doors behind them. Her clear eyes were looking at him with concern. 

Sebastian closed his eyes, his hands still resting on the carved door. Elthina knew. Of course she knew. 

“Is it that obvious, Your Grace?” he asked when he finally faced the grand cleric. 

Her smile was gentle when she replied, “Sebastian, I’ve known you for a very long time; do not think I haven’t noticed how troubled your heart has been lately.” 

He lowered his head. “You see much...” 

Hawke’s expression when he had told her he needed to accompany Elthina back to the Chantry came back to haunt him. She had seemed strangely reluctant to part from his company, and even though she hadn’t attempted to stop him with words, the way she had last looked at him had made the walk to the Chantry feel unreal, for his thoughts had strayed from his mind, following Hawke as a ship would follow the blaze coming from a lighthouse in the middle of a storm...

(Read more...) 

 To read the whole story, click here.

Where I can become who I’m supposed to be...

All my life I’ve wanted to be the kid who gets to cross over into the magical kingdom. I devoured those books by C.S. Lewis and William Dunthorn, Ellen Wentworth, Susan Cooper, and Alan Garner. When I could get them from the library, I read them out of order as I found them, and then in order, and then reread them all again, many times over. Because even when I was a child I knew it wasn’t simply escape that lay on the far side of the borders of fairyland. Instinctively I knew crossing over would mean more than fleeing the constant terror and shame that was mine at that time of my life. There was a knowledge – an understanding hidden in the marrow of my bones that only I can access ― telling me that by crossing over, I’d be coming home. That’s the reason I’ve yearned so desperately to experience the wonder, the mystery, the beauty of that world beyond the World As It Is. It’s because I know that somewhere across the border there’s a place for me. A place of safety and strength and learning, where I can become who I’m supposed to be. 

I’ve tried forever to be that person here, but whatever I manage to accomplish in the World As It Is only seems to be an echo of what I could be in that other place that lies hidden somewhere beyond the borders.

- Charles de Lint (Why, this is me.)