Category: Meander

So it is we find ourselves cresting page 400 (Blue), with only two weeks remaining, two weeks to find out whither the blind assassin and the tongueless girl, who with Alex when, and which with pen wrote words before these words to Myra.

Oh, and a magnet will be revealed! As is your due. And perhaps a thought will be shared about our next journey. (Likely aimed for early August, to give folks time to change their shoes, buy new laces, store up on trail mix….)

Like many folks on last week’s (excellent) thread, I’m reading with a mix of dread and then a spark of joy at an Irisidic aside. (“Irisidic”: not a word, but should be. Speaking of which, Tonsure: “a part of a monk’s or priest’s head left bare on top by shaving off the hair.” A word I think I perhaps once knew? and now know again.)

It’s mystery, yes, and a noir. But it’s also increasingly a horror story. One I’m very glad to be reading. But I’m also getting ready to sit down at the table and take in the portion of the puzzle that Iris and MA choose to share.

Wherefore hence? Let’s find each other just over the next hill, at the end of page 457 (Blue) where “the fitting symbols of peace and hope” appear to await.

Say pally, how’s this work again? Finish on time, comment each week, and stay in the hunt for a free “I Survived The Blind Assassin Meander” magnet. Oh, and in case you were wondering: This is the post for comments on Chapters 10.2 (“Mayfair, 1937″) through 12.2 (“Mayfair, 1939″).

The line between stories is starting to blur. Two ocean voyages side by side. A sci fi that talks like a brutal noir. Secret encounters within secret encounters.

Also, I’ve also started playing TBA bingo. Jeff G. mentioned in last week’s comments how the words on Alex’s notebook are starting to show up in the novel in a novel (see 219 in the blue edition) — and the surprisingly vulnerable Lizard Men kept that pattern going in this week’s section with xenor, ulinth, fulgor, hortz and of course the rare iridis….

And through it all Coleridge, weather, blood, water, Coleridge, weather, blood, water, making me want to set it to music, hence my tango addition this week to the ever-growing playlist.

Whence to hither? Three more weeks, Meanderers, and we’ve made it to magnet! For this next stretch, let’s meet up at the end of page 402 (Blue) where “the next thrilling episode never appears.”

Say pally, how’s this work again? Finish on time, comment each week, and stay in the hunt for a free “I Survived The Blind Assassin Meander” magnet. Oh, and in case you were wondering: This is the post for comments on Chapters 8.5 (“The Blind Assassin: The Top Hat Grill”) through 10.1 (“Lizard Men of Xenor”).

Another great thread this week — thanks to all! It’s a real treat, I say, this ongoing conversation. A stately pleasure dome of commentary, if you will. And one I super appreciate. Lately I’ve gotten in the rhythm of doing all my TBA reading on Saturdays and Sundays, and it’s just a fantastic of a way to spend a hunkered weekend, sitting on the porch, catching up with MA, Iris, other characters named and nameless, and youse.

With each section, I’m increasingly enjoying/appreciating the book, impending badness and all. As Blue F said in the thread, MA has a great sense of when we’re ready for more Iris, more noir, more present tense, more past, more snark at nosey academics, and more alien side plots-within-plots that Itto Ogami is pretty sure are 50/50 legit.

I keep marveling at MA/Iris’ knack for the lethal throwaway line that pulls you forward, including this pair from page 296 (blue):

“Not much you can do to kill a rock.” and “when he was still coming up with reasons for what he thought and did”…

and of course: “blood is thicker than water, as anyone knows who has tasted both.” (288) Yikes.

And in the continuing saga of our ever-expanding vocabularies, here’s one more for the list: “nacreous” — turns out to have a much lovelier meaning than I expected. And there’s some comfort in that. May all your new words turn out to be lovelier than they first sound.

Where to from here? Let’s meet up on the other side of a few more weather reports, at the bottom of page 357 (Blue) where “Mr. Griffen’s remarks were roundly applauded.” Which honestly scares the hell out of me.

Say pally, how’s this work again? Finish on time, comment each week, and stay in the hunt for a free “I Survived The Blind Assassin Meander” magnet. Oh, and in case you were wondering: This is the post for comments on Chapters 7.3 (“Postcards from Europe”) through 8.4 (“The Mail and Empire, 1936”).

Thanks for the excellent comments, as always! Food and fashion are two threads that ran through this section, along with the expected seasonal asides, watery ends, and withering descriptions.

Oh, and lots and lots of plot points came together this week as Iris’ tale gathered steam and we made the journey from the picnic to the honeymoon, with Alex intrigue, Freddie frights, and photo reveals along the way.

Amidst all the goodness, two lines stood out to me:

“I was still too young to be a believer in coincidence.” (190/blue)

“Such dismal feelings however do not often persist in the clear light of morning, when you are young.” (228/blue)

Not sure why these both hit home — except that they felt so true to the idea of a memoir, working through both your past and your present in the same moment.

Meandering tunes: Another song was added to The Blind Assassin Meander Playlist, along with a few recipes, perfect for some future The Blind Assassin dinner party. Oh and while I’m at it, what ever became of those dang blind assassins anyways?

From here to there: Let’s pass the halfway mark en masse and meet up at the end of “The houndstooth suit” in Section VII, found on page 298 (blue edition) where someone’s “Hesitating. Thinking, “How lost to myself I have become.”

Say pally, how’s this work again? Finish on time, comment each week, and stay in the hunt for a free “I Survived The Blind Assassin Meander” magnet. Oh, and in case you were wondering: This is the post for comments on Chapters 6.1 (“The houndstooth suit”) through 7.3 (“Postcards from Europe”).

With all these genres mashing, it’s the meta-mystery that keeps pulling me through. I’ve started keeping a notebook with dates and events, and I get way too excited when I can do maths and say “Oh, she was 18, that means it’s 1934-ish!”

My favorite passage this week was the one The-First-of-Two-Equal-Susan-C’s cited in the comments:

“How I would like to have them back, those pointless afternoons — the boredom, the aimlessness, the unformed possibilities. And I do have them back, in a way; except now there won’t be much of whatever happens next.”

I suspect we all sort of have that feeling back of late, wandering in our small-ish circles. And you know, sometimes sitting on the porch, sometimes having a beverage, sometimes reading a book by Margaret Atwood.

Like others, I’m especially enjoy the way TBA folds in on itself — the references you get as you go (“kids reading sci fi and pulp noir? hey now!”) and the ones that make more sense in the rearview mirror.

My favorite of these so far came on page 157 (blue edition), when Iris snarks in response to a passage from The Rubaiyat, that “it was a lot of fuss to make about a picnic.” Which felt like a great jokey alternate title for the book, especially as we hit the crescendo this week…. (enter young Richard! enter young Winifred! who the hell is Alex Thomas?!)

Meandering tunes: Meanwhile, two more songs from the comments were added to The Blind Assassin Meander Playlist — keep ’em coming!

The road just ahead: Let’s meet up at the end of Section V on page 246 (blue edition) where “I didn’t make a wish.”

Say pally, how’s this work again? Finish on time, comment each week, and stay in the hunt for a free “I Survived The Blind Assassin Meander” magnet. Oh, and in case you were wondering: This is the post for comments on Chapters 5.6 (“Loaf givers”) through 5.12 (“The tango”).

Like a lot of folks in the comments, I started to settle into the rhythm this week. The noir felt more like a noir. Iris’ memoir got the good long run many of us were hoping for. The sci fi sort of reminded me of a lost Ursula K. Le Guin novel, if Le Guin was a brutish/vulnerable tough guy who definitely didn’t do it. Unless perhaps he did.

My favorite part so far is the wrapper — the thing that surrounds all this swirl. I keep scribbling notes on the title page about this date or that, a marriage, a birth, a death — the story implied that pulls this all together.

I think Winston Churchill described The Blind Assassin best when he called it “a riddle, inside a mystery, wrapped in an enigma. And a heck of a good read!”

I agree with Winston — this is a real joy, a book that’s several books. And one that appropriately seems to be choosing its own quirky pace as it meanders between decades, characters, genres, offering up Russian dolls, as Amanda said in the comments, each doll creating the next.

Playlist-o-rama In other news, an Elvis Costello track was added to the playlist — feel free to add more if the mood strikes.

This week: Let’s charge on through to page 179 in the blue edition, aka the end of “The button factory picnic” wherein the allure of “gold-plated gingerbread” beckons us thither….

Say pally, how’s this work again? Finish on time, comment each week, and stay in the hunt for a free “I Survived The Blind Assassin Meander” magnet. Oh, and in case you were wondering: This is the post for comments on Chapters 4.6 – 5.5.

Welcome Button Factory Visitors

Have I already confessed that this is my first Atwood? And that somehow I hadn’t even heard of this book before a few weeks ago?

Well, you can imagine my delight this week, as I finally found out what the hell we had gotten ourselves into.

As so-called Alex said in the comments, even when I was confused, the language (Iris’ repeated self-slams — “I shambled into the kitchen” — family buttons concealing “the category of objects the world needs but scorns”) kept me happily zipping along. Add to that a sort of sinister-Kilgore-Trout-ish sci fi vision (“This carpet blinded ten children”) threaded throughout our tale, and a gentle reader in search of distraction couldn’t ask for much more. Except perhaps for a marble head-of-medusa over the fireplace.

By the end of this week, the pieces felt like they were starting to come together. My ad hoc family-tree-scibbles were beginning to make sense. And I was left ready to dive into Week Two.

Really enjoying the comments, as always — and it’s a particular treat to see such a great mix of long-time and returning Meanderers and first time Meander-peeps, blending into one mighty communal intelligence.

Speaking of communal intelligence: Last time around, we built an ad hoc White Noise Meander playlist. On the thread this past week, Computilo [whoops: corrected in the comments — Peaseblossom, not Computilo!] and So-Called Amanda offered a couple of excellent TBAM playlist suggestions. I’ve added a Jim Croce tune to the mix and started up a TBAM Spotify playlist you can find here. Feel free to call out songs to add in the comments as we wander along, or add ’em directly to the playlist, which is set up for public co-creation. Because: music!

This week: Let’s charge on through to page 121 in the blue edition, aka the end of “The Blind Assassin: The Messenger” wherein, gold watch intact, she’s “got to go.”

Say pally, how’s this work again? Finish on time, comment each week, and stay in the hunt for a free “I Survived The Blind Assassin Meander” magnet. Oh, and in case you were wondering: This is the post for comments on Chapters 3.5 – 4.5.

Welcome to the trailhead, my friends!
Today we embark on a winding journey, one that will take us from our living rooms to our bedrooms, from our front porches to our backyards, if we have such things, and then back to our living rooms because you know, couch good. All the while carrying a digital or print copy of Margaret Atwood’s Booker-Prize-winning gothic suspense science fiction neo-classic The Blind Assassin.

I’m super looking forward to this trek, and really grateful to you all for lacing up your Meandering shoes and sharing good company on the path.

Exciting! But how’s it work?
In brief, we’ll be reading 50-60 pages a week. On Sundays I’ll post the next week’s target.

Read along, comment on the thread by week’s end, make it to the finish line, and yes, the rumors you’ve heard are true: you will receive one genuine “I Survived The Blind Assassin Meander” magnet, designed by Meanderer Elisabeth Beller. (For an example of past prizes, check out the magnet from our most recently concluded adventure.)

Times are more than strange, and many of us are looking for ritual, routine, and perhaps a group read of a fairly complex though engaging tome.

If that’s you, I’m glad you found your way here. The waiting is over. Grab your book. Believe in yourself and each other. Comment with verve, kindness, and/or abandon.

And let’s Meander the hell out of this thing.

This week: Read through the end of Avilion by April 11, pausing to comment and take a sip of something that sustains you through “the lumpy, enervating burden of the mundane.”

Throughward and upward!
-Cecil

Some time back, a gaggle of ne-er-do-wells gathered together online to read challenging books in 50-page increments.

We commented as we went, checking in, sharing observations. All with the intent of securing for ourselves a magnetized collectible or similar specialized consumer good.

This was a thing we did. And we did it more than once.

Around New Years, we had the notion to rekindle this old habit, and just the other day we wrapped our first such fiesta in 10 years.

We called it: The White Noise Meander because we read a book called White Noise. And “Amble” didn’t have the necessary oomph.

The plan had been to try the next one in the Fall. But what with current circumstances, it seemed reading another challenging book en masse in 50-page increments, and etc., might be a welcome occupation.

All to say, April 5: The Meander. Is. Back!™

Wait, really?!
Really! MeanderTime!™

But what’s the book?! No less than Margaret Atwood’s The Blind Assassin (the Booker-Prize winning gothic suspense, romance, science fiction masterpiece, and I do mean “the” as in, there ain’t two….)

This does sound great. But what are the rules?