Thursday 2 March 2000

Pic of the day: Look, no hair! I went and got a haircut today. Not too expensive, either, and as you can see from yesterday's picture, I really needed it.

Finished reading Edgar Rice Burroughs' The son of Tarzan. I must admit that it would have been hard not to finish it. Quite apart from the story, there is the delightful flow of the language. Even though this is at least partly a book for young readers, there is no "dumbing down" of the language. I like that.

Is it just me? It seems that there is a lot of overly simple language in modern fiction. Part of this might come from the increased use of dialogue. Dialogue is supposed to draw the reader in, and add to the realism. But my theory is that when you have enough simple dialogue, it colors the whole work. You cannot suddenly break into another kind of language in the narrative, or it will look strange and stilted. So, you end up penning the whole work in an imaginary working class English. Where is the obvious delight in the richness of the language? The loving care in joining the words just so?

And besides, when you have more narrative, you can allow the dialogue to stand out that much more. In a master's hand, a few words of direct speech can paint a character in vivid detail, more so than a long description. "By thy own words do I judge thee."

Incidentally, it was as I had suspected. The introduction of a girl out of the blue meant another "boy meets girl" story. I must admit that I was slightly disappointed by the finale of that part. But it was a jolly good read. I had decided to read all his Tarzan books; but now I find myself reluctant to download the next. I cannot imagine it will be anything but a disappointment after this.

I've found out how he does it, too. It's the same in all the four books I've read so far: He has the main characters meet and separate repeatedly, or at least let their paths cross. They come so near that there is sure to be some interaction, and then they drift apart again. And again. It isn't all that credible, but then again it's meant to be fiction. And it does work.

Back in the real world, my good friend codenamed SuperWoman should be back in good old Norway by now. This is great news for Norway. She should be in the city next week. I haven't seen her since my birthday (Dec 27) when she was shivering and moaning with the flu. Poor baby. Of course, being herself, she was up and dancing shortly thereafter. Hopefully next year the new flu medicine should be available in quantity, so that we need never bother about that problem again.

She claims that the years have gone so fast since she went to Germany to study. Hmm. To me they have not. I don't really think that is her fault, though. Knowing that life is short, it has been my hope and my prayer that I would not just rush through it, but that time would slow down so I could get a good look around. So far it has mostly been that way, though time has speeded up a little with my advancing age.

It is a funny thing. I'm really starting to feel middle aged now, if not downright old. Not in all ways, of course. I still like to play. But my identity has sort of shifted from young. I notice it particularly in relation to SuperWoman. Even when I was twice as old as she, I felt that we sort of belonged to the same generation ... only on opposite ends of it. (I much doubt that she felt the same way, but that's a matter for her own online journal if she feels like writing one. I am not holding my breath.) Anyway, now I feel more like a father figure. And she already has that. I guess I should try to get friends my own age.

Ideally, I should have friends that I see more often than twice a year. But who? It is not that I am all that picky, but most people are just not very interesting. Or rather, they may be that inside, but their masks are up at all time except when they are drunk. I can't just hang out with drunk people all the time...

But I won't cry for yesterday
There's an ordinary world
somehow I have to find
And as I try to make my way
to the ordinary world
I will learn to survive
Duran Duran: Ordinary world