Thursday, December 28, 2006
/ 4:28 PM
I wanna share some extracts from a fantasy novel with you guys! It's entitled "Maskerade", written by Terry Pratchett.. I was attracted to the book bcoz it combined an opera house setting with ghosts and murders.. And the storytelling is along the humourous line, which gets rids of the seriousness of murder.. Instead, the story is meant to be just, dramatic! And an opera house setting combined with ghosts as well as murders taking place seemed to be a great combination to bring out all that drama.. But I didn't enjoy this book so very much.. Can't really say why, but when a book doesn't really absorb me into it.. Then that's that. :)
But here are two extracts which I found to be interesting!
-----
Some distance from the bushes where Nany Ogg was communing with Nature there was, placid under the autumn sky, a lake.
In the reeds, a swan was dying. Or was due to die.
There was, however, an unforseen snag.
Death sat down on the bank.
Now look, he said, I know how it is supposed to go. Swans sing just once, beautifully, before they die. That's where the word 'swansong' originates. It is very moving. Now, let us try this again...
He produced a tuning fork from the shadowy recesses of his robe and twanged it on the side of his scythe.
There's your note.
'Uh-uh,' said the swan, shaking its head.
Why make it difficult?
'I like it here,' said the swan.
That has nothing to do with it.
'Did you know I can break a man's arm with the blow of my wing?'
How about if I get you started? Do you know 'Moonlight Bay'?
'That's no more than a barbershop ditty! I happen to be a swan!'
'Little Brown Jug'? Death cleared his throat. Ha Ha Ha, Hee Hee Hee, Little--
'That's a song?' The swan hissed angrily and swayed from one crabbed foot to the other. 'I don't know who you are, sirrah, but where I come from we've got better taste in music.'
Really? Would you care to show me an example?
'Uh-uh!'
Damn.
'Thought you'd got me there, didn't you,' said the swan. 'Thought you'd tricked me, eh? Thought I might unthinkingly give you a couple of the bars of the Pedlar's Song from Lohenshaak, eh?'
I don't know that one.
The swan took a deep, laboured breath.
'That's the one that goes "Schneide meinen eigenen Hals--" '
Thank you, said Death. The scythe moved.
'Bugger!'
A moment later the swan stepped out of its body and ruffled fresh but slightly transperant wings.
'Now what?' it said.
That's up to you. It's always up to you.
-----
Granny breathed out, slowly. (Note: This 'Granny' here is not just any granny, she's a witch, and meant to be a kind one too)
'Come and sit where I can see you. That's good manners. And let me tell you right now that I ain't at all afraid of you.'
The tall, black-robed figure walked axross the floor and sat down on a handy barrel, leaning its scythe against the wall. Then it pushed back its hood.
Granny folded her arms and stared calmly at the visitor, meeting his gaze eye-to-socket.
I am impressed.
'I have faith.'
Really? In what particular deity?
'Oh, none of them.'
Then faith in what?
'Just faith, you know. In general.'
Death leaned forward. The candlelight raised new shadows on his skull.
Courage is easy by candlelight. Your faith, I suspect, is in the flame.
Death grinned.
Granny leaned forward, and blew out the candle. Then she folded her arms again and stared fiercely ahead of her.
After some length of time, a voice said, All right, you've made your point.
Granny lit a match. Its flare illuminated the skull opposite, which hadn't moved.
'Fair enough,' she said, as she relit the candle. 'We don't want to be sitting here all night, do we? How many have you come for?'
One.
'The cow?'
Death shook his head.
'It could be the cow.' (Note: The story has been such that this Granny is helping a family with a son that's sick, and their cow is also sick, so this Granny wants the boy to be saved from Death)
No. That would be changing history.
'History is about things changing.'
No.
Granny sat back.
Then I challenge you to a game. That's traditional. That's allowed.'
Death was silent for a moment.
This is true.
'Good.'
Challenging me by means of a game is allowable.
'Yes.'
However... You understand that to win all you must gamble all?
'Double or quits? Yes, I know.'
But not chess.
'Can't abide chess.'
Or Cripple Mr Onion. I've never been able to understand the rules.
'Very well. How about one hand of poker? Five cards each, no draws? Sudden death, as they say.'
Death thought about this, too.
You know this family?
'No.'
Then why?
'Are we talking or are we playing?'
Oh, very well.
Granny picked up the pack of cards and shuffled it, not looking at her hands, and smiling at Death all the time. She dealt five cards each, and reached down...
A bony hand grasped hers.
But first, Mistress Weatherwax - We will exchange cards.
He picked up the two piles and transposed them, and then nodded at Granny.
Madam?
Granny looked at her cards, and threw them down.
Four Queens. Hmm. That is very high.
Death looked down at his cards, and then up into Granny's steady, blue-eyed gaze.
Neither moved for some time.
Then Death laid the hand on the table.
I lose, he said. All I have is four ones.
He looked back into Granny's eyes for a moment. There was a blue glow in the depth of his eye-sockets. Maybe, for the merest fraction of a second, barely noticeable even to the closest observation, one winked off.
Granny nodded, and extended a hand.
She prided herself on the ability to judge people by their gaze and their handshake, which in this case was a rather chilly one.
'Take the cow,' she said.
It is a valuable creature.
'Who knows what the child will become?'
Death stood up, and reached for his scythe.
He said, OW.
'Ah, yes. I couldn't help noticing,' said Granny Weatherwax, as the tension drained out of the atmosphere, 'that you seem to be sparing that arm.'
Oh, you know how it is. Repetitive actions and so on...
'It could get serious if you left it.'
How serious?
'Want me to have a look?'
Would you mind? It certainly aches on cold nights.
Granny stood up and reached out, but her hand went right through.
'Look, you're going to have to make yourself a bit more solid if I'm to do anything--'
Possibly a bottle of suckrose and akwa?
'Sugar and water? I expect you know that's only for the hard of thinking. Come on, roll up that sleeve. Don't be a big baby. What's the worse I can do to you?'
Granny's hands touched smooth bone. She'd felt worse. At least these had never had flesh on them.
She felt, thought, gripped, twisted...
There was a click.
OW.
'Now try it above the shoulder.'
Er. Hmm. Yes. It does seem considerably more free. Yes, indeed. My word, yes. Thank you very much.
'If it gives you trouble again, you know where I live.'
Thank you. Thank you very much.
'You know where everyone lives. Tueday mornings is a good time. I'm generally in.'
I shall remember. Thank you.
'By appointment, in your case. No offense meant.'
Thank you.
Death walked away. A moment later there was a faint gasp from the cow. That and a slight sagging of the skin were all that apparently marked the transition from living animal to cooling meat.
Granny picked up the baby and laid a hand on its forehead.
'Fever's gone,' she said.
Mistress Weatherwax? said Death from the doorway.
'Yes, sir?'
I have to know. What would have happened if I had not... lost?
'At the cards, you mean?'
Yes. What would you have done?
Granny laid the baby down carefully on the straw, and smiled.
'Well,' she said, 'for a start... I'd have broken your bloody arm.'
But here are two extracts which I found to be interesting!
-----
Some distance from the bushes where Nany Ogg was communing with Nature there was, placid under the autumn sky, a lake.
In the reeds, a swan was dying. Or was due to die.
There was, however, an unforseen snag.
Death sat down on the bank.
Now look, he said, I know how it is supposed to go. Swans sing just once, beautifully, before they die. That's where the word 'swansong' originates. It is very moving. Now, let us try this again...
He produced a tuning fork from the shadowy recesses of his robe and twanged it on the side of his scythe.
There's your note.
'Uh-uh,' said the swan, shaking its head.
Why make it difficult?
'I like it here,' said the swan.
That has nothing to do with it.
'Did you know I can break a man's arm with the blow of my wing?'
How about if I get you started? Do you know 'Moonlight Bay'?
'That's no more than a barbershop ditty! I happen to be a swan!'
'Little Brown Jug'? Death cleared his throat. Ha Ha Ha, Hee Hee Hee, Little--
'That's a song?' The swan hissed angrily and swayed from one crabbed foot to the other. 'I don't know who you are, sirrah, but where I come from we've got better taste in music.'
Really? Would you care to show me an example?
'Uh-uh!'
Damn.
'Thought you'd got me there, didn't you,' said the swan. 'Thought you'd tricked me, eh? Thought I might unthinkingly give you a couple of the bars of the Pedlar's Song from Lohenshaak, eh?'
I don't know that one.
The swan took a deep, laboured breath.
'That's the one that goes "Schneide meinen eigenen Hals--" '
Thank you, said Death. The scythe moved.
'Bugger!'
A moment later the swan stepped out of its body and ruffled fresh but slightly transperant wings.
'Now what?' it said.
That's up to you. It's always up to you.
-----
Granny breathed out, slowly. (Note: This 'Granny' here is not just any granny, she's a witch, and meant to be a kind one too)
'Come and sit where I can see you. That's good manners. And let me tell you right now that I ain't at all afraid of you.'
The tall, black-robed figure walked axross the floor and sat down on a handy barrel, leaning its scythe against the wall. Then it pushed back its hood.
Granny folded her arms and stared calmly at the visitor, meeting his gaze eye-to-socket.
I am impressed.
'I have faith.'
Really? In what particular deity?
'Oh, none of them.'
Then faith in what?
'Just faith, you know. In general.'
Death leaned forward. The candlelight raised new shadows on his skull.
Courage is easy by candlelight. Your faith, I suspect, is in the flame.
Death grinned.
Granny leaned forward, and blew out the candle. Then she folded her arms again and stared fiercely ahead of her.
After some length of time, a voice said, All right, you've made your point.
Granny lit a match. Its flare illuminated the skull opposite, which hadn't moved.
'Fair enough,' she said, as she relit the candle. 'We don't want to be sitting here all night, do we? How many have you come for?'
One.
'The cow?'
Death shook his head.
'It could be the cow.' (Note: The story has been such that this Granny is helping a family with a son that's sick, and their cow is also sick, so this Granny wants the boy to be saved from Death)
No. That would be changing history.
'History is about things changing.'
No.
Granny sat back.
Then I challenge you to a game. That's traditional. That's allowed.'
Death was silent for a moment.
This is true.
'Good.'
Challenging me by means of a game is allowable.
'Yes.'
However... You understand that to win all you must gamble all?
'Double or quits? Yes, I know.'
But not chess.
'Can't abide chess.'
Or Cripple Mr Onion. I've never been able to understand the rules.
'Very well. How about one hand of poker? Five cards each, no draws? Sudden death, as they say.'
Death thought about this, too.
You know this family?
'No.'
Then why?
'Are we talking or are we playing?'
Oh, very well.
Granny picked up the pack of cards and shuffled it, not looking at her hands, and smiling at Death all the time. She dealt five cards each, and reached down...
A bony hand grasped hers.
But first, Mistress Weatherwax - We will exchange cards.
He picked up the two piles and transposed them, and then nodded at Granny.
Madam?
Granny looked at her cards, and threw them down.
Four Queens. Hmm. That is very high.
Death looked down at his cards, and then up into Granny's steady, blue-eyed gaze.
Neither moved for some time.
Then Death laid the hand on the table.
I lose, he said. All I have is four ones.
He looked back into Granny's eyes for a moment. There was a blue glow in the depth of his eye-sockets. Maybe, for the merest fraction of a second, barely noticeable even to the closest observation, one winked off.
Granny nodded, and extended a hand.
She prided herself on the ability to judge people by their gaze and their handshake, which in this case was a rather chilly one.
'Take the cow,' she said.
It is a valuable creature.
'Who knows what the child will become?'
Death stood up, and reached for his scythe.
He said, OW.
'Ah, yes. I couldn't help noticing,' said Granny Weatherwax, as the tension drained out of the atmosphere, 'that you seem to be sparing that arm.'
Oh, you know how it is. Repetitive actions and so on...
'It could get serious if you left it.'
How serious?
'Want me to have a look?'
Would you mind? It certainly aches on cold nights.
Granny stood up and reached out, but her hand went right through.
'Look, you're going to have to make yourself a bit more solid if I'm to do anything--'
Possibly a bottle of suckrose and akwa?
'Sugar and water? I expect you know that's only for the hard of thinking. Come on, roll up that sleeve. Don't be a big baby. What's the worse I can do to you?'
Granny's hands touched smooth bone. She'd felt worse. At least these had never had flesh on them.
She felt, thought, gripped, twisted...
There was a click.
OW.
'Now try it above the shoulder.'
Er. Hmm. Yes. It does seem considerably more free. Yes, indeed. My word, yes. Thank you very much.
'If it gives you trouble again, you know where I live.'
Thank you. Thank you very much.
'You know where everyone lives. Tueday mornings is a good time. I'm generally in.'
I shall remember. Thank you.
'By appointment, in your case. No offense meant.'
Thank you.
Death walked away. A moment later there was a faint gasp from the cow. That and a slight sagging of the skin were all that apparently marked the transition from living animal to cooling meat.
Granny picked up the baby and laid a hand on its forehead.
'Fever's gone,' she said.
Mistress Weatherwax? said Death from the doorway.
'Yes, sir?'
I have to know. What would have happened if I had not... lost?
'At the cards, you mean?'
Yes. What would you have done?
Granny laid the baby down carefully on the straw, and smiled.
'Well,' she said, 'for a start... I'd have broken your bloody arm.'
We know life's hard, truth is hard, lies are hard, they are all hard to accept when they have been
found out, and i'm rushing history homework on the Abyissian Crisis about Italy and Abyssia going into war and that the League Of Nations cannot stop this from happening, and beacuse they are formed by means to stop war and
peace-keep the countries together, they have thus failed to achieve that. I think i tend to hold a class for history instead of telling you about me, i'm basically a what subject-realted lover (humanities) and thus
I am more analytical and critical about things, and likes to study about dead people, haha. lol. it's history what can you expect and also geography, it amazes me. I really like it alot, so what have you? Again to find this answer
you need to enter into your own reality and reflect
it's amazing. amzing how people change the way of things, like how I used to hate outdoors in Band
felt it was a complete waste of time, i've acquired to like it more, i guess people change, their thereotical means and applications in life just goes on into a new direction, and see things in another perspective, i guess- it's
all in the mind. It really amazes me how these comes into action, from someone so pessimistic has changed his own view of things, and thus my friend is scoring much better, being more optimisitc and not think of his old way of suicidal
thoughts, which are pretty daunting. and thus we need to see things, in another light, another perspective and another new way, to enable us to open up our minds, and make more new things, the new way it is. 