The things we carry along with us

"Moving", such as it were, has begun. The children and FemmeDommi are at a family reunion up north, so those of us left behind are taking advantage of their absence to pack (if asked, every crayon would be needed -- this way, we can filter out a lot of the broken and less-played-with stuff). They return on Thursday. On Friday, we will load the rented moving van, and on Saturday morning, early, the AffinitusDommus will set out on their new adventures in a new house, a new city, a new state. (I shall have to find a new name for them, as well, because they will be living in a complete absence of cats; pets are not allowed by the landlord.)

In the meantime, I am emptying my storage unit. With only two people in this house, we will have room in the cellar for my stuff, and room in the studio for FemmeDommi's office furniture. Also, AffinitusDommus will need a deal of kitchen furnishings at their rented house, so I'm pulling out my own, for the Texan and me to use here. We have borrowed a friend's truck, and I am single-handedly moving all my things. That is, I'm moving all the boxes and liftable furniture -- the couch, some desks and a large bureau will have to wait for Thursday when we'll have friends helping us.

Sooooo, today and yesterday I moved 34 boxes from the storage unit to the basement, as well as five pieces of light-weight furniture. All of those were carried downstairs individually, so I reckon I've climbed at least 350 steps up (and down) today, carrying weights (yeah glutes! Frankly, I ache all over). The unit, 9 feet by 11 feet by 20 feet high, is about half empty.

So, what have I been paying to store since September 2005 (and which I also paid to bring out to Oregon in late 2006)? About a third of the boxes are books. Some of these books I have missed -- an entire box devoted to multiple copies of Dorothy Dunnett novels (some of which I've had to buy additional copies of, in the intervening years). Or my copy of Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman, which I purchased again to read again last year. Or my hard cover edition of Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, which I have prevented myself from purchasing several times because, for Pete's sake, I have the hard-cover version in storage! Sadly, this also means I have not yet read that novel. Presumably it is packed away in the large, leaden, box marked, Books I Do Still Intend To Read. Someday.

Others I have not missed -- what could be in the preposterously heavy box labeled, Books - #3 - Living Room? I'm guessing that holds the picture books -- a history of rally cars (with early Mini Coopers) and I dimly recall a photographic chronology of World War I. These and a few others, although outside my usual interests, were too fascinating not to buy for Less Than $9.99 on the Bargain Table in the entrance to Borders Book Store. And maybe that box has the exhibition books accompanying the show I saw at the Uffizi in 2003? I will enjoy looking at them again, but I didn't miss not having them.

About half the boxes are kitchen stuff. Some of that is because kitchen stuff is large, and thus fills a lot of boxes. But have I needed to store twenty (nice quality) Rubbermaid food storage boxes for four years? What about the cheap pots and pans -- cast offs and filler pieces when I got them? They will be handy now, but I'm noticing the scratches in the teflon, and the permanent stains -- should I just buy some new, less toxic pans? I've got spatulas and wooden spoons and mixing bowls and three sets of measuring cups. Did I really need to keep all this?

Did I really need to own all this in the first place? But I felt a rush of pleasure to rediscover my ivory wire fruit bowl, and my Italian tea towels. Doesn't that rush -- especially when it is sustained over four years -- justify the cost? (That is, the cost of purchase and the cost and hassle of storage.) The Rubbermaid containers elicited a feeling of familiarity, but no rush. Yet, frankly food storage containers are something I use -- a lot more frequently than linen tea towels. Instead of storing them, should I have discarded the containers, necessitating a new purchase now? Is it more wasteful to have had them in the first place, when they are not something I cherish?

What about things that are of no practical use, nor are they lovely? Should I be storing the suitcases, long outdated and mostly worn out, given to me by my parents when I went to Cambridge U. in 1983? I carried the little one across Europe for three months, but it is sagging, tattered and torn, and I doubt I'll use it again. Is the sentimental value of that well-traveled gray case worth keeping it in the basement for another six months?

These thoughts dogged me today. I would park the truck next to our rose bushes, so the scent of roses overwhelmed the dust that puffed up from the boxes as I unloaded them onto the dolly. In groups of two and three, I wheeled them up the steep driveway, past the cats lying sprawled in the August sun to the side door of the house. There, each box was carried down the wooden stairs into the cellar, and stacked neatly according to label, kitchen, books, textiles, other.

These are only my things. These are all my things, the total. Every one of these things, in all of these boxes, is going to have to leave the dark, cool cellar, someday.

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies and Reviews

The Author's Blurb reads: Jane Austen is the author of Sense and Sensibility,
Persuasion, Mansfield Park, and other masterpieces of English literature.
Seth Grahame-Smith once took a class in English literature. He lives in Los Angeles.

You may have seen this book available -- it made quite a splash this spring. It was to have been released about now, but the advance publicity about it was so lively and excited that they rushed to print in early April.

It's the kind of book I wish I'd thought of, a witty left turn from a known classic. Take the basic world of Pride and Prejudice, and add in a mere "mysterious plague" that gradually turns its victims into flesh-eating zombies, and then some rather silly but obvious ramifications. The Bennet sisters have each spent their two years in China being trained in the ninja arts, and now they are held to be finest and prettiest fighters in Hertfordshire. Lady Catherine de Burgh is renowned as the finest zombie-killer in the land. Sir William Lucas got his money (and knightship) through a business of making fine burial gowns. Etc.

The story is still mostly Austen's -- except for tweaks in details, and a few martial arts scenes thrown into the mix, every page is different from the original only by a sentence or two, at most. For instance, It is a truth universally acknowledged that a zombie in possession of brains must be in want of more brains.

A few things I would have done differently -- there's a coarse level of humor throughout that doesn't fit the parody nor the original (e.g., Darcy makes frequent double entendres about balls, and there's an almost cruel level of physical violence inflicted on some of the characters). It flattens the story and leaves one feeling Grahame-Smith doesn't truly understand the charm of the original. He tweaks the story line in some odd ways that don't add anything, nor are particularly funny in and of themselves (e.g., Charlotte Lucas becomes an unmentionable (a zombie) which might have been made funny, but not much comes of the change). But it does pose some wonderful juxtapositions, such as when Lady Catherine is quizzing Eliza about the lack of a proper upbringing. In the original, of course, she asks about a governess.

"Have your ninjas left you?"
"We never had any ninjas."
"No ninjas! How was that possible! Five daughters brought up at home without any ninjas! I never heard of such a thing. Your mother must have been quite a slave to your safety....Had my own daughter been blessed with a more suitable constitution, I should have sent her away to the best dojos in Japan at the age of four. Are any of your younger sisters out, Miss Bennet?"

Despite my complaints, I do think the book is worth picking up and chuckling over. Best of all, there is a "Readers Discussion Guide" at the back, that is worth the cost of the book alone. Introduced with, We hope these questions will deepen your appreciation and enjoyment of this towering work of classical zombie literature, it features questions that you can tell have been festering in the back of Grahame-Smith's head since he failed an English Lit. exam back in college. Such as:

1. Many critics have addressed the dual nature of Elizabeth's personality. On the one hand, she can be a savage, remorseless killer, as we see in her vanquishing of Lady Catherine's ninjas. On the other hand, she can be tender and merciful, as in her relationships with Jane, Charlotte, and [others]. In your opinion, which of these "halves" best represents the real Elizabeth at the beginning - and the end of the novel?

6.Some critics have suggested that the zombies represent the authors'views toward marriage -- an endless curse that sucks the life out of you and just won't die. Do you agree, or do you have another opinion about the symbolism of the unmentionables?

10. Some scholars believe that the zombies were a last-minute addition to the novel, requested by the publisher in a shameless attempt to boost sales. Others argue that the hordes of living dead are integral to Jane Austen's plot and social commentary.What do you think? Can you imagine what this novel might be like without the violent zombie mayhem?

Grahame-Smith has signed on a two-book deal to follow up this one, already. The next is to be called Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter.

Boy-child, who has discovered the joy of reading this past year, is intrigued by the cover and the title. I might, as a giggle, introduce him to Jane Austen this way. Unless will he thenceforth find her other, zombie-less, books to be quite boring?