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Teresa Fannin
11/21/201111/19/2011

truth….

Okay, I may never get to Page Eight. The longer I stay away the more I think that it was tedious. And. Do I really want to re-tune my ears to the British murmur? No. I’m not deleting it, but it may be a while until I’m in the mood again.

Meanwhile, on FB there was a posting about early-onset of Alzheimer’s, Terry Pratchett [well, really, Sir Terry] and Assisted Suicide. Sad. But when you read his story, for him, I guess, it makes sense. It doesn’t say he’s going to do it, only that he’s making plans. Sad, again. His books are genius. But then, I don’t know what I’d do if I was facing such a loss when I had been so accomplished. Not because of the money, more because of the challenge, the pursuit, the culmination of the story. He is one example of the amazing variety of the brain left to it’s own devices. I sort of like that.

I started reading Discworld when they came from the UK to the States. I think I got the first one through the book club. The Colour of Magic and all the books thereafter were of wonder, fun, a brief look at our society and how stupid we sometimes were. My daughter got involved in them while in high school.  The English teachers at her very preppy private school were terribly unimpressed. I thought that sad too, here was was Jonathan Swift of our century. A true satirist who struck out at the absurdities of everyday.  I’ve always been a Sci-fi, fantasy fan. Mysteries too, but it’s going to that world far far away that makes you see. Isn’t that why Star Trek was so successful? Because in a different century, out among the stars, with different groups of people and different societies we could fully see the stupidities and inanities of our own lives?  So Piers Anthony, Jack Williamson, Julian May, Frederick Pohl, Harry Harrison, Herbert, Heinlein, Clark, not to mention Tolkien, Asimov, Peake, and so many more have been amazing to have and to read.

And. To the current crop of fantasy, sci-fi, magical realism, paranormal, speculative fiction, is different. It’s so much more personal. It’s not so much about how the world is and how we change it, but how it affects me and changes me. I’m still trying to deal with that.

Musings from a reader first, lover of dark chocolate and Irish whiskey, tennis player, writer of mysteries, science fiction, and historical non-fiction.

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