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Showing posts from November, 2013

Who is Sunday? Who is Thursday?

Alice C. Linsley

A Man Called Thursday is a typical Chesterton piece of paradox. Sunday is a Christ figure who puts us through our paces. Chesterton has Thursday quote Job at the beginning and end of the book.

We don't trust him (Sunday) and like the Secretary, we have trouble forgiving him for the peace (of the Sunday/Son's day). We fear him. We think we can run away from him. Yet he is the one behind the big plan.

We have a clue about Sunday's identity when Thursday says that Sunday's face frightened him because it was so good. There is a sense of knowing the Sun's existence without being able to look directly at the Sun. By looking at Thursday we are able to "see" Sunday hidden in the periphery, a mysterious overshadowing light.

G.K. Chesterton's brother Cecil Chesterton believed that Sunday was patterned on F.W. Walker Oddie, the High Master of St. Paul's Day School, where Chesterton attended. He was both loved and feared for his "mere…

Another Children's Book that Discriminates Against Males

Book Review

The Terrible Trickster
by Frances Watts
written for ages 9-12 | recommended with reservations
published in 2013 | Allen and Unwin | 128 pages

Strange happenings have occurred at Flamant Castle. Sickly sweet sugar has replaced salt in the soup, and newly washed white sheets have turned mysteriously yellow. It is up to "Tommy" and her animals -- a cat, a pigeon and a "crocodillo" -- to find out who the prankster is. Tommy and Sir Benedict, the bravest knight in Flamant Castle, share a secret that helps solve the mystery: they are both able to talk to the animals.

"Tommy" is short for Thomasina, a character shown to be courageous, sensible, ambitious and on track to becoming the first ever girl knight at Flamant Castle. But when she is accused of being the "terrible trickster", she springs into action to clear her name. The plot thickens when twice the allegedly guilty trickster is found to be innocent.

Scenes are well imagined within a myster…

In Memory of Max, my "kissing kitty"

Max was buried yesterday, after 12 good and full years of life. He was the most affectionate of my three cats and he will be missed. He was "Maximiliano el Emperador de Mexico," a title given by a Mexican friend who thought the cat deserved a dignified name. Over time, it was shortened to Max.

This poem, by an unknown author, is dedicated to him.

Poem For Cats
And God asked the feline spirit
Are you ready to come home?
Oh, yes, quite so, replied the precious soul
And, as a cat, you know I am most able
To decide anything for myself.

Are you coming then? asked God.
Soon, replied the whiskered angel
But I must come slowly
For my human friends are troubled
For you see, they need me, quite certainly.

But don't they understand? asked God
That you'll never leave them?
That your souls are intertwined. For all eternity?
That nothing is created or destroyed?
It just is....forever and ever and ever.

Eventually they will understand,
Replied the glorious cat
For I will whisper into their hearts