The Price of Light

(Information about my other writing can be found here. Happy reading!)

Among the many things that awe me, John Milton's writing is high up on the list, and his poem that inspires this blog's title came very much to mind today. The stranded despair of the opening quatrain grows ever more calm under the warming radiance of faith, and serene resignation magnifies the ending with its immortal, commisserate last line. Milton always makes me feel trivial, and I'm grateful for it. In that spirit of thankfulness I shopped for groceries yesterday in the warm bright afternoon, wishing John could have joined me. This is my favorite time of year to linger around the produce. I love those odd little gourds that never quite look real, and the equally strange but kindly edible big squashes, and the regal hues of Indian corn, and best of all the pumpkins. Amid such reassuring defiant opulence death is stingless, relegated to the shelves of marshmallow ghosts and twinkly-eyed plastic skulls. 

Today it's rainy, a perfect time to stand and wait, or sit and write; they're pretty much one and the same where I'm concerned. When words fail me I can always wander over to Mysoju or Crunchyroll or Dramafever and escape to my lastest passion, Korean multi-series epics. Recently I finished up the splendid Jumong, 80 episodes worth of battle, intrigue, preternaturally restrained passion (not a single smooch in the entire story, despite emotion aplenty), and enthralling acting, especially by Song Il Guk who delivers a channeled, demandingly physical performance as the legendary hero of the tale. Now I'm on to the totally opposite Jewel in the Palace, which concerns itself with the mercilessly imbroglio'd woman's world of the royal court c. 1500, and recounts the tribulations of Jang Geum, who became Korea's first female physician to the king. Since she started out as a kitchen-maid, there are lots of wonderful cooking scenes lovingly filmed; the poignant soundtrack sticks to the memory, the historical recreation is big-budget and meticulous, and the lead actress is simply perfect in her plain, demure, stubbornly principled way. Both series were huge hits in Korea and many places else, and I thank the Internet for the chance to see them subtitled in their entirety. Highly recommended. 

Namaste,

 CK

Detail from a painting by Fausto Zonaro (1854-1929)

Twig By Twig

Tomorrow marks the autumnal equinox, officially the last day of summer. For the past many years I've viewed the event with regret either bitter or resigned, but this one's different. This winter I'll be warmed by memories of harvest and the promise of even greater growth to come.
Some time ago while writing in a forum I invented a character named Yin Qi, an imperial concubine called Autumn Grass by the other court ladies in mocking reference to her advanced age (she was thirty) and inferior rank (she was of very minor nobility, from the barbaric northern steppes). What inspired her creation was a picture by Shibata Zeshin, c. 1870:

The first time I ever saw this exquisite image, the original of which is worth a trip to New York where it lives, I instantly recalled Archibald MacLeish's riskily precious wish that

A poem should be motionless in time
As the moon climbs

Leaving, as the moon releases
Twig by twig the night-entangled trees

Leaving, as the moon behind the winter leaves,
Memory by memory the mind—

A poem should be motionless in time
As the moon climbs.

In a story I've submitted to a flash fiction journal, I describe the moon through a warrior's eyes, as a shield of gold dented from countless blows. [Note: the story was accepted, and can be found on this blog at  https://carolynkephart.blogspot.com/2022/01/short-fiction-kind-gods.html.]

It is always best to fulfill old dreams before moving on to others. Then on to everything else, uncounted pages else. It doesn't matter, the passage of the equinoxes. I will move as the moon climbs.


CK

The Lady and the Mage

(Note: information about my other writing can be found here.)

I enjoyed writing Last Laughter so much that I'm thinking of more short stories involving my as yet anonymous Countess and Cyril Dagleish Dacier, the Thaumaturge Royal. When I began the tale, I thought of it as typical standard fantasy set in a semi-medieval world, but by the end it felt (to me, anyway) decidedly Edwardian, hence the court mage's quaintly British name. I never thought I'd ever write anything steampunk, but there it is, with perhaps more to come. Last Laughter is now fully corrected and will be at Silver Blade for an entire quarter-year; I hope it garners lots of readers. The Kindle and other digital versions of my novels are finding a wide audience, and I couldn't be happier, more optimistic, or more energized. 

Namaste,

CK