DYING! Prepare to do it

Written a month ago, but never posted...

I'm sitting here musing over my novel, which isn't as funny as I'd like it to be. So before I keep writing, I'm having some Thinks.

I was thinking about narration, because I might have some sort of clearly outside narrator, like The Brief Wondrous History of Oscar Wao. And then I remembered the greatest Omniscient Narrator in humor: The Princess Bride.

The first people I know who read the book were Swiss Girl, myself, and my brother. I think it was before the movie came out, but Swiss Girl might remember better. We all admitted that in the beginning we were taken in, thinking there really was an S Morgenstern whose book Goldman was abridging. But as you read the narrator speaking so disparagingly about his wife and son (I always remember "my son rolled into the room") you realize it's a joke. The narrator is a fictitious version of Goldman, and there's no S Morgenstern.

Years later friend Gilby and I used to hang at an all-night deli and regularly had a waitress whose favorite book was The Princess Bride. When she found out we worked for a book store she brought up the problem she'd been having of trying to get her hands on the original unabridged Princess Bride.

It fell to me to dash her dreams. From that time on we called her Buttercup, to make up for it.

Just now I was reading through the reviews on amazon and sure enough there are lots of people who hate the book because (a) all the narration bits are boring and ruin this beautiful tale and they wish they could find the original unabridged version; or (b) they're angry because they've discovered there's no unabridged version; or (c) they're angry at how misogynistic and mean spirited it is.

It's possibly one of the greatest literary hoaxes since the War of the Worlds radio broadcasts. And a good reminder of the comedic possibilities of narration. Maybe it's time for a re-read.

Also... the expression "The good parts version" is one of my absolute faves.

On today's menu: Serving up a little love

On April 1st my dad posted on his blog about the apostle Paul's famous writings on lurv. I wanted to re-read the passage, and decided to share.

But if you're feeling too worn out by life to get through the long-winded writing of Paul, then sit back and let Alicia Keys sing to you instead. Cause she knows what you're going through.

Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I have become sounding brass or a clanging cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, but have not love, it profits me nothing.

Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never fails. But whether there are prophecies, they will fail; whether there are tongues, they will cease; whether there is knowledge, it will vanish away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect has come, then that which is in part will be done away.

When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became an adult, I put away childish things. For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as I also am known.

And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.

If you made a Best Parts version of the Bible (à la Princess Bride) this would definitely make the cut.

I hope your spring-a-tude weekend contains...

A little faith: in yourself, in your fave show to cheer you up, in anything!

A little hope: Emily Dickinson says it never dies.

And a little love: if not, I sends you some in the form of my step-mother with her dear departed lovebird, Agape.

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That was 1 Corinthians 13. I chose the New King James, for the sheer poetry of it, though I changed "man" to "adult." To see other versions, or the context, check out this handy site.

But don't get a parrot! As my parents learned after getting parrots, selling them should be absolutely banned. It's a horrid industry and birds need to live in flocks. My parents put hours of work into caring for their two remaining birds, and they support this rescue which has to care for all the beautiful sick creatures that people discovered were too hard to care for after they bought them.  >:-(