Shelf

This is my shelf. I mention things on my Now at times, and when that page gets updated those things get overwritten. Sometimes I save the thoughts here, as an archive of sorts. These are not reviews. The thoughts are often very unformed (and I admit, sometimes uninformed) or perhaps super specific. Sometimes I mention a thing at the very beginning of my experience with it. In some cases that is all that gets saved, in other cases I might add an extra thought when I put it here.

So, these are the things I've touched, or that have touched me.

Reading

It's such an interesting read. My only critique thus far is that while the subtitle "How the Unseen World of Plant Intelligence Offers a New Understanding of Life on Earth" certainly explains what the book is about, it somewhat diminishes the impact of the main title, which in itself is an eye-opener. I mean, just compare the sentences "I just watered my plants" and "I just watered my light eaters." That title in itself helps me redefine what a plant light eater is.

"Plants made me, after all. Every bundle of muscle in my body was woven from the sugars plants spun from moisture and air. My blood cells that course through my veins like water through rootlets are each kept ruby red with the oxygen plants made. The branching structure of my lungs are suffused with that too. Every inward breath of mine was first breathed out by plants."

I've probably read this masterpiece four times. Last time, as preparation for seeing the film by Lockshin. Which I still haven't. It feels almost impossible to put down in words what I feel about this book (even though so many have written so many words about it). When I try, my mind just starts racing around the sky like Natasha on the flying pig that was previously Margarita's pompous downstairs neighbor Nikolai Ivanovich. It's easy to describe the book, the setup and the story and the tradition from which it comes. But not how it makes me feel.

To put it like this: I've read many snide and satirical books. Also many loving and warm. And I'm in awe of how Bulgakov can marry the two. Deeply satirical, a serious dressing-down of our species, yet (for me) enormously hopeful and full of magic. Real magic.

"Azazello begged her not to worry, assuring her that he had seen not only naked women but also women with their skin flayed clean off."

I've never really read horror, even less so body horror. Now I want seconds. It is a fairy tale to learn from. How to tie yourself to the mast of your chosen theme, and not deviate, not even slightly. Even if the story would have been more palatable and less chewy if you did. A monstrous fish from the deep, turned human slave and wife, forced to breed. A book about nurture and nourishment. I've seen many despise the book for its language. For being a short read at around a century of pages, it is as dense as sinew. But this is not about the melody, it is about the texture. You might well think you need a thesaurus to get through this, even if you are a native English speaker, but the words are not chosen to show off skill. They are chosen to enforce the theme at the cost of clarity. It's all about the tapestry and you don't need to pin down everything. Don't stop and think, indulge. I found myself looking up only the words that enticed me. That made me hungry for more.

Ships? Food? Embroidery? My mixed metaphors. If only I could keep a theme as well as Cassandra Khaw. Oh, and everyone just eats each other. A lot.

"I'd slice my larynx clean, make soup of the ribbons. I'd peel every word from my vocabulary."