Around them are stacks of books they need for classes. Surprisingly the student is doing pretty well this term. They are using a charm a Ravenclaw taught them so that they can take notes while reading something else. Their Hufflepuff friend told them they need to study. So now the Gryffindor have a text book huddled in their lap with a yellow and maroon sweater keeping warm. In side the textbook they're supposed to be reading, is a novel they just found and can't put down.
Our creative Ravenclaw had fallen asleep in the corner nook. Where they are still using magic, in their sleep, so books are floating all around them. Every now and then a page turns. But the Ravenclaw has been at the same spot all night reading and drawing. The librarian knows them and thinks; 'the poor kid needs some sleep.' The older woman has taken a blanket from the back and thrown it over the poor student. Who, when feeling the soft fabric mutters something about 'fresh quills' and falls deeper into sleep.
The young puff student had a coat full of candy and salty snacks. Having traded red vines for astrology notes. The yellow sweater student has a book on charms out and is plotting. The majority of their homework is done(except for the things they've forgotten and will do last minute).
The snake charmer is sitting at a desk with headphones (given by a Hufflepuff friend) listening to AC/DC. Pages of notes are spread out lining the walls in front of them and all over the floor. The desperate librarian has tried to pick them up only to be hissed at by the Slytherin student. The test is tomorrow and they have been trying to understand the concept for the pst 4 hours, refusing to ask for help.
(Notice all houses are co existing in their library).
When I was nine years old, I traveled across the US with my dad while he moved from New York to California. We stopped at a lot of National Parks - with our loyal cockatiel along for the trip, often snuggling underneath my chin while I napped in the backseat - including Yellowstone.
At the gift shop, I found this book. Even though only my relatives ever had dogs and I was mostly raised with cats and other small pets, I was one of those kids that got twinkly-eyed over wolves.
Anyway, I really wanted this book. It always broke my heart that we demonized wolves - something that my mom instilled in me (along with a general ‘be kind to ALL animals, not just your pets’ attitude). It’s less than 500 pages, but remembering holding this book in my tiny 9 year old hands, it certainly felt much, much larger at the time. I tried to read it - the Yellowstone bookmark is actually tucked away into the pages - but it kind of turned into skimming which turned into pretending. I don’t recall understanding most of it at the time.
And I mostly forgot about it until we got the dogs. I was so, so determined to read it when I was little. It felt very special to me.
I took a picture of the price because I definitely remember thinking it was expensive, because of its size and fancy adult knowledge and the fact that it was in a gift shop at Yellowstone. When I pulled it off the shelf today (the first time I’ve touched it since I asked my mom to ship it to me, not long after I got Asher) and noticed the tag, I laughed. $10! I suppose it was originally $25, though.
While I eagerly await my Samoyed book, I’m going to try poking around in this. Is anyone interested in what might be in here? I can share the table of contents. There’s some other resources in the index, too.
I keep talking about books and the library recently but I haven’t posted any pics since we moved in SO I’ve posted a visual tour of most of the media in our house.
First, @hakbot‘s books (we’re supposed to be getting a full-sized shelf in the future but the date isn’t set):
Then my main two shelves:
We have our oversized books and Hak’s manga:
This next one is mostly @kaket123‘s books but the shelf on the left is my ‘growing room’. The top shelf is the books I haven’t read yet and the second shelf is my Italian collection (and Korra, for some reason):
Then more of Kak’s books. The bottom two shelves are TV shows (top) and anime (bottom) both double stacked:
Then we have our movies, double stacked (the case on the top is full of most of my DVDs but not all):
And our video games, the smallest collection we have:
Review of The Yellow House by Chiwan Choi | Christoph Paul
There are two types of poetry books I enjoy. One where I read a few poems each day, and savor them like a good wine. The other is a collection where I read it in one sitting. I prefer the second. I want a collection that gets me drunk. I want poetry I can binge on. I want it to be better than Netflix, Facebook, and shitty delicious fast food.
I finished The Yellow House by Chiwan Choi in one sitting, on my birthday. I get existential on my birthdays. I think about family and friends that I no longer have and about how I will get old one day. I ruminate on the past, but also feel excited for the future. Birthdays are the perfect days to read poetry.
This was a good month ago, and poetry is tough to review. I’ve been sitting on this review for too long. We struggle to make time to read poetry, it’s even harder to review it. That binge feels like a dream now. Yet, when I picture and recall lines in The Yellow House emotions of sadness and longing of family come up. A Yellow House that is gone and no longer there, like my mother. I still miss her.
I can remember the trancelike feeling of going through each page. Binging on poetry is different than a novel you devour in a day. It is not a character or story beats that you remember in poetry—it is the emotions and moments you share with the poet. Choi, uses a voice that is precise, tight, and vulnerable, to create that bond.
I want an emotional connection to the lines, but I also enjoy a narrative. I don’t want to just get distracted by pretty word salads. I want a to connect with the poet. I want the poet to have heart and personality. Choi gives me both with his mediation on family, the past, and the evocative motif of The Yellow House. I enjoyed walking with him through The Yellow House and will definitely visit it again.
“… He was standing in a room the size of a large cathedral, whose high windows were sending shafts of light down upon what looked like a city with towering walls, built of what Harry knew must be objects hidden by generations of Hogwarts inhabitants. There were alleyways and roads bordered by tetering piles of broken and damaged furniture, stowed away, perhaps, to hide the evidence of mishandled magic, or else hidden by castle-proud house-elves. There were thousands and thousands of books, no doubt banned or graffitied or stolen. There were winged catapults and Fanged Frisbees, some still with enough life in them to hover halfheartedly over the mountains of other forbidden items; there were chipped bottles of congealed potions, hats, jewels, cloaks; there were what looked like dragon eggshells, corked bottles whose contents still shimmered evilly, several rusting swords, and a heavy, bloodstained axe.
Harry hurried forward into one of the many alleyways between all this hidden treasure. He turned right past an enormous stuffed troll, ran on a short way, took a left at the broken Vanishing Cabinet in which Montague had got lost the previous year, finally pausing beside a large cupboard that seemed to have had acid thrown at its blistered surface. He opened one of the cupboard’s creaking doors: It had already been used as a hiding place for something in a cage that had long since died; its skeleton had five legs. He stuffed the Half-Blood Princes book behind the cage and slammed the door. He paused for a moment, his heart thumping horribly, gazing around at all the clutter… . Would he be able to find this spot again amidst all this junk? Seizing the chipped bust of an ugly old warlock from on top of a nearby crate, he stood it on top of the cupboard where the book was now hidden, perched a dusty old wig and a tarnished tiara on the statues head to make it more distinctive…”