Fall Palettes

One of the things I really dig about living in Pasadena is how close we are to the hills. The foothills start just a few miles up the main road, and trails abound. The Kiwi runs up the steep path while I dawdle up the easy route and we meet at the ruins of an abandoned hotel and train tracks a few miles up.

The hills look different each time I go up them; different desert plants in bloom or seed. I was loving the color combos with all the early fall foliage. I can't decide if I want them to become outfits, jewelery, or wall art but they are definitely going to find new life very soon.


The rust plant had almost an olive hue in person, and when combined with a blushing pink and pops of cream, turquoise, or sage I couldn't get enough.


The silver-green-blue of yuccas, agave, and eucalyptus would be lush layered together in structured, sculptural fabrics, or clean, elegant, simple shapes. Maybe a faint hint of cappuccino, peridot, or butter.


Peridot, rust, and deep olive on a bed of greige. I'm thinking a layered, sculptural pencil skirt and a loose, sheer blouse with some feminine heels.

Who wants to go shopping?

Hallelujah

This song just came up on my shuffle. I always forget how much I love this version -- such a sad, sweet, lovely song. Take a moment of your day and enjoy.

Oh, Autumn...

I can see the appeal of Southern California. Really, I can. All that sunshine, an endless growing season, the proximity of mountains and sea, desert and lakes. Plus, at least in the L.A. region, there are lots of ace cultural benefits -- music, museums, arts, vintage and thrift shopping, cool people, great food... I'm sure you get used to the traffic, and if your car actually works properly and doesn't have the heater permanently on, a good playlist on the mP3 can probably make an hour long commute a fun time to enjoy some car singing (my fave kind).

Me, though, I like seasons. Summer is great -- popsicles, sundresses, sandals, street tacos, farmers markets -- but summer should also come to an end. You can't appreciate the thrill of the first sundress of the season, that first toe-wriggling day of flip flops, the first drippy popsicle on the porch if you can do it any day of the year. Or if it has been summer since January, when you moved to California. It loses its magic, and just becomes routine. I'm sure some of you would argue that if that is routine, screw the rest. But I still crave seasons. Summer should give way to autumn (the absolute best season) the season of roasted root vegetables mixed with the last sweet fruits of summer, of tights and knee socks (and thigh socks) with boots, of scarves and hats and blazers, of pumpkin spice lattes and salted caramel hot chocolates to warm nipped fingers after a morning run in the crisp, fragrant fall air.


And then should come winter, wrapped in layers and warm blankets, belly full of rich soups and casseroles and baked goods. And then spring can bring green buds and flower shoots, rains and puddle jumping, the first tentative bare legs (which are almost always too early and regrettable -- and not just for the paleness of skin), and that absolutely perfect first crocus, daffodil or violet. But right now, I'm just ready for fall. Give me a bouquet of freshly sharpened pencils, my best knee high boots, a silky scarf with my tweed blazer, and ripe pumpkin. I'm over this endless summer.

Dreamy Escapes

The Bell at Sealey Head by Patricia A. McKillip

Just to be upfront, Patricia A. McKillip is my all time favorite fantasist. She is absolutely brilliant. Her lush novels always have this immense feeling of depth that you just get to glimpse here and there, with maybe a brief immersion or two. They leave you craving more, though you are also strangely satisfied. Her prose is crisp, clear but also creates a world of lyrical beauty that matches the Kinuko Y. Craft cover paintings that adorn so many of her novels. I always feel like I've been treated to a new fairy tale after I read one of McKillip's latest -- at once familiar and dear, but also dark and twisted and dangerous, like the original tales of Grimm and Perrault before Disney got to them.

Her latest novel, published in 2008, is no exception. The Bell at Sealey Head evokes something of an 18th or 19th century feel, wholly embedded in a very real village balanced on stormy sea cliffs, but the fey world steadily encroaches on the unwitting villagers, with a few notable exceptions. The innkeeper, a serving girl and her wild hermit mother, a merchant's daughter all have something more to say about why, each day at sundown, a bell rings out. A bell, that is, that no one has ever seen or located. The lady of the land lies in her deathbed and her heir comes to visit with an entourage of silly courtiers, throwing the sleepy village politics into a whirl. Meanwhile, a disheveled scholar arrives ink-stained and loaded down with books, seeking more of the bell and its world. The locals must help the strangers find their paths and positions in the village while dealing with increasing (and increasingly menacing) fey activity.

We are also treated to a glimpse of the parallel fey realm, seen through the dangerously curious eyes of a young princess who merely wants to know why. Her world is one of rules and duties, each more nonsensical than the last, but each of which must be followed to the letter at peril of death and doom. As the two worlds draw nearer and nearer, the young girl must learn to ask the right questions of the right person to free her world and that of the mortals.

There is a sweet courtship over books and curiosities, courtship kept secret to protect lives, bonds of family and friendship in both the mortal and fey realms. The characters are ones you would like to be friends with -- or ones you too would fight with all your strength.

I really encourage you to go out and buy each of McKillip's beautiful novels and story collections, but if you at least read her latest, I think you'll see why she is my favorite fantasist. Though others may reach her level in their own genres, none of them can do fantasy and fairy tales so beautifully, dangerously, achingly daringly well.

Fast as You Can

Just discovered this peppy little song by Elizabeth and the Catapult -- great band name, no?

Enjoy!

Counting Calories

The Windup Girl by Paolo Bacigalupi

For the next installment in my summer reading series, I opted for a rad new science fiction piece. Bacigalupi has been nominated for and won various awards for his short and long fiction, and as soon as I saw this book I knew I wanted to read it. The cover is great, and I will definitely admit to judging books by their covers -- especially when they are this good.

The novel itself takes place in a distant dystopic -- or perhaps just realistic -- future, after the global oil culture has completely collapsed. The major commodity is now the calorie, as man and beast power is the primary form of energy. Genetic manipulators have created new food forms -- many of which are sterile after one harvest and enormously susceptible to terrible plagues -- as well as new critters and even new people. I found something of Margaret Atwood's Oryx and Crake in his biopunk future, though he cannot yet keep up with her literary prowess at the level of the individual word. Her work is polished to the utmost, while Bacigalupi's is at points clearly a debut novel. That said, if this is his debut work, I can't wait to see his more practiced novels*.

Bacigalupi shifts his narrative's perspective from various characters occupying various roles in this new world in the Thai Kingdom. A calorie man: an agent of one of the biopower companies holding patents on seed variations and disease strains alike. Various locals throughout the bureaucracy each vying for a place in the precariously balanced hierarchy running the kingdom. And a windup girl, a new person genetically enhanced in almost every way, but handicapped by a twitching, clockwork-like motion that distinguishes her and her kind from true humans.

The novel is disturbing in the its level of potential truth. It is not so hard to imagine his biopunk society as one that could arise after our current petroleum bubble bursts. And his characters, perhaps especially the windup girl, are relatable in their hopes and fears, their flaws and strengths. He explores basic philosophical truths, such as what is means to be human, to be decent, to survive. He critiques and mocks our own society -- at times wistfully or gently, at times with the sharpest satire. The scifi world of his novel allows him to explore these truths in a way that lets them sneak into your own mind, settle in, and then smack you upside the head. Bacigalupi's social commentary is practiced and subtle, even when the novel itself bogs down.

I have also read some of his shorter fiction, which displays his skills in crafting new settings and characters that are immediately understandable. I look forward to his future novels displaying even more of that skill, as I did find The Windup Girl occasionally awkward or aimless. The narrative always found its way again, though, and while the ending can't rightfully be deemed satisfying, it was appropriate.

On the whole, Bacigalupi is now firmly installed on my author list and I certainly recommend delving into the novel. Give yourself a few weeks -- as it can be a bit too much to swallow in long sittings -- but I think you'll enjoy the ride.

*His latest, Ship Breaker, was released in May, but I haven't read yet. Have you? Thoughts?