Amy H. Sturgis (eldritchhobbit) wrote,
Amy H. Sturgis

  • Music:

"It is full summer now, the heart of June"

Happy birthday to graashoppa, lisa_marli, and parisntripfan! And happy early birthday to toddlyles, pktheater, lizzieausten, and hypnagogie! I hope each of you enjoys a fantastic day and a wonderful year to come.

A couple of quick notes:

* Librivox now has available a free, unabridged reading of the classic 1915 utopian novel Herland by Charlotte Perkins Gilman. This extremely readable story plays out as a cross between Thomas More’s Utopia and The Man Who Would Be King. Three male adventurers, all with scientific leanings, hear rumor of a mysterious semi-tropical land composed entirely of women, and off they go. As they approach by airship, guns at the ready, they speculate as to what they’ll find and do when they get there. What they discover, however, isn’t at all what they expected. The recording is available as a zip download or a chapter-by-chapter podcast.

* For those of you who like actor Jeffrey Combs, this is FYI: the Cold Case episode in which Jeffrey Combs guest stars will re-air this Sunday. He gives a terrific performance, and I highly recommend catching the episode.

* Author Alex Beecroft made an interesting post on characterization (and Mallory!) that's definitely worth a read: "Brutes, Wimps and Heroes: The alpha male, the beta male and the chivalric ideal."

It is full summer now, the heart of June;
Not yet the sunburnt reapers are astir
Upon the upland meadow where too soon
Rich autumn time, the season's usurer,
Will lend his hoarded gold to all the trees,
And see his treasure scattered
by the wild and spendthrift breeze.

Too soon indeed! yet here the daffodil,
That love-child of the Spring, has lingered on
To vex the rose with jealousy, and still
The harebell spreads her azure pavilion,
And like a strayed and wandering reveller
Abandoned of its brothers,
whom long since June's messenger

The missel-thrush has frighted from the glade,
One pale narcissus loiters fearfully
Close to a shadowy nook, where half afraid
Of their own loveliness some violets lie
That will not look the gold sun in the face
For fear of too much splendour,
- ah! methinks it is a place

Which should be trodden by Persephone
When wearied of the flowerless fields of Dis!
Or danced on by the lads of Arcady!
The hidden secret of eternal bliss
Known to the Grecian here a man might find,
Ah! you and I may find it now if
Love and Sleep be kind.
- Oscar Wilde, "The Garden of Eros"
Tags: genre literature

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