richard III

[thankful for a book-a-day advent to thanksgiving: 8 days left]

it is strange, i guess, that the shakespearian play i am most overwhelmed and moved by isn’t king lear or romeo and juliet or the tempest, it’s richard III. historical inaccuracies aside, richard’s character fascinates me. so very evilly evil.

and it was here, as i tried to understand the medieval link between deformed body and deformed mind (you’ll remember that richard has a gimp arm), that i stumbled onto a literary theory that changed the way i communicate and understand communication: speech act theory. (for those of you who are endlessly curious, here’s a link to a fairly easy to understand synopsis of j.l. austin’s original book.)

combine speech act theory, richard III, and the neverending story (don’t assume here that you’ll read anything like that off-hand, stiff-as-mud movie they made) and you’ll have a mind-bogglingly amazing weekend.

my father’s dragon

elmer elevator runs away from home with an old alley cat. the story also involves two dozen pink lollipops, a fine tooth comb, and other such useful things.

need i say more?

winnie-the-pooh

i’m not talking about any watered down, commercialized, cartoonized winnie-the-pooh, i’m talking about the bona fide genuine bear from a. a. milne.

winnie the pooh’s goodness and wit still charm me. you can identify with this sort of bear,

it was a warm day, and he had a long way to go. he hadn’t gone more than halfway when a sort of funny feeling began to creep all over him. it began at the tip of his nose and trickled all through him and out at the soles of his feet. it was just as if somebody inside him were saying, ‘now then, pooh, time for a little something.’

i love all the pooh adventures. i love them so much that i own two copies of each book. our little pooh bear has wisdom his tubby tummy belies. if you haven’t met him, do.