Hey, check out that snazzy new title style. Thanks, Stacy! Shows you how long it’s been since I’ve visited my own damn blog.

Winter came early to the Deep South: it’s gotten unusually cold and stayed that way since mid-November. I don’t mind it so much – reminds me of winters back home – but it’d be easier to take if we had some snow. No such luck; just cold, miserable rain from time to time.

I’ve read several books since my last lazy post, but haven’t written anything larger than a grocery list in months. I suppose that’s not entirely true, but I’m not counting the writing I do at work.

Read Oliver Sacks’ Musicophilia. Definitely recommend. He’s so good at giving you the science as though it’s a murder mystery or something. His enthusiasm for what makes our brains do the things that they do is completely contagious. We all know anecdotally the things music does to and for us; now you can read about the science. And it made me grateful for all the times I threw my piano books across the room, threatened to quit, and my mother never let me. Music really does change our brains.

Read Neil Gaiman’s The Graveyard Book. Loved it. It’s a lovely coming-of-age story, only the boy’s parents happen to be ghosts, and he happens to live in a graveyard. Includes gorgeous black and white illustrations by Dave McKean. Not for little kids, but good for older ones and adults. It had it’s moments, but I don’t think it was as creepy as Coraline. Which is coming out as a stop-animation movie, done by the Nightmare Before Christmas animators, I think, and I have no idea when it’s supposed to open or if it will even come to my town. We often don’t get the more independent and controversial movies here. I wanted to see Bill Maher’s Religulous, but it did not show anywhere in the entire state of Alabama. Why do I stay? Oh, right, married a Southern boy.

Christmas is around the corner, and since right before Thanksgiving I’ve felt the traditional holiday ennui descending. Or maybe it’s the holiday melancholy. Or both. It’s not as bad as it used to be, mostly because I’ve minimized the obligations that caused the bulk of the stress. But I still find myself quite conflicted about the winter holiday season: I love it, I hate it. We’re not Christians, so we don’t celebrate Christmas, but we have a tree every year, I love decorating, and I have some Christmas movies that I like to watch.

And then, it’s also depressing. The expectations that are set so high, no one can possibly meet them. Seeing the orgy of consumerism dominate our culture, the constant begging from charity organizations… it pisses me off. People need food in July, too, you know; it’s not like they’re only hungry in December. But I’m not going to get on that soapbox today (or, not much). And there is nothing wrong with Christmas presents, it’s just… gotten out of hand when Wal Mart shoppers will trample a man to death for cheap TVs. We have a low key winter holiday, with very few presents, but lots of presence. And that works for us.

But because I’m often down (and up and then down again) this time of year, I usually turn to books that are tried and true, dear friends. I don’t care that I’ve read them twenty times or a hundred times; sometimes, I just need that story that I can always count on to get me through. This year, I’ve gone back to some of Barbara Hambly’s early books: The Windrose Chronicles.

This is a trilogy dealing with the adventures and agonies of Antryg Windrose, a wizard from a universe that lies close to ours, accessible from the Void by only one or two wizards. Joanna Sheraton, a computer programmer in the Los Angeles of our universe, is kidnapped and taken to the Antryg’s universe and the empire of Ferryth for nefarious purposes. Despite that rather lame synopsis – and the cheesy paperback covers, and the silly blurbs on the backs – these books rock. This is good, old fashioned storytelling with plots and subplots, twists and turns, clues, hints, and characters that are so real I’ve dreamt of them. And if you can accept the idea that there is some universe that sits right next to ours, then there’s no reason to not believe that Antryg’s life continues to this day and that Ms. Hambly will be writing about him again soon. I dearly hope, anyway. She says on her website that she will. Not that I’m begging or anything.

The Empire of Ferryth is in a universe that is on the cusp of an industrial revolution. It’s a rather feudal and still somewhat agrarian society that has one-shot pistols and factories, but is just beginning to understand electricity and to create serious machines. Wizards still exist, though more and more people have ceased to believe in magic. It’s a world that reflects Hambly’s education in medieval history, and she creates it in realistic and rich detail, down to the raw sewage that fills the streets. I think it was Hob in the Sandman comics that complained to his companion at the Renaissance Faire that it if they were faithfully recreating medieval Europe, then there would be mud and shit everywhere. Hambly wouldn’t disappoint Hob.

Of course, there is a plot by an evil wizard to turn the world to his purposes and he is working in both universes to make it happen. Hambly is a master at misdirecting our attention, so for first time readers, the ultimate conclusion (which spans the first two books) should be surprising. Although I’ve read this trilogy many, many times and know the outcome, I still enjoy the stories: now, I look for how she misdirects me and for the clues she leaves about what is really happening. And even though the Void conceit is one that she’s used before, in another wonderful series called The Darwath Trilogy, Hambly’s storytelling is so strong, her world so rich, and her characters so developed that she can sell me this set-up anytime.

There’s Antryg, the troubled and daft wizard who has brought Joanna through the Void to Ferryth and who seems to be causing a lot of problems from his prison. There is Caris, the trained warrior for the Council of Wizards who accompanies his grandfather, the Archmage, seeking help from the imprisoned-for-life Antryg. Joanna, the clueless and perfectly ordinary computer programmer and systems analyst, is dragged into the messy political and magical intrigue as a pawn. These three central characters become bound together, like it or not, and eventually must figure out a way to – what else – save the world. Both of the worlds. More than once. Clearly this has the potential to degenerate into triteness, but Hambly is so much better than that.

These stories are Lovecraftian (how many times can we use the word chitinous?) and Tolkeinsian (epic, and did I just make up a new word?) without being utterly derivative. They are creepy with villains that are Cthulu-like and also stories of love, change, and relationships of all kinds. As much as the Antryg saga is about adventure, it is also about how people change, about how life changes, and about how love is almost never what you thought it would be. It’s a serious accomplishment to create a believable fantasy world that is never cheesy while also crafting characters and stories that have depth and resonance. Because we all know how it easy it is for fantasy novels to get cheesy.

I fell hard in love with Antryg when I first read these books, and I fall in love with him all over again each time I return. This trilogy is like certain albums: once I put the record on, I can’t just listen to one track. I have to hear the entire thing. Once I’ve reached for the comfort of The Silent Tower, I can’t stop – I have to read The Silicone Mage and Dog Wizard right after. And then I feel sad that it’s over.

But that’s the magic of books, isn’t it? It’s never over. All I have to do to is pick up my ragged paperback, and I’m right there with the heroes and my friends. They’re still as great as I remembered them, and they never let me down or fight during Christmas. I love books.

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