So Much Now

The worst of the year is officially over. Yesterday I found daffodils blooming in the back yard, fragile but dauntless, pushing their gentle way through the litter of dead leaves. The contrast of fresh green and yellow against the withered browns and grays is a reassuring triumph. Winter can't last. Sorrow has a limit. We take strength, and move into the light. I look forward to warm breezes and bared limbs, and hopefully some baby foxes scampering around the brush pile in May, as they did, enchantingly, a couple of years ago; I saw what looked very like the mother fox today, who seemed to be considering re-tenancy.

The other day I completed She of the Silver Feet, a short story unlike anything I've ever written before, very light and frothy on the surface but roiling with implication, and am sending it to magazines. I'm delighted that another of my short pieces, a fairy-tale pastiche called Everafter Acres, will be published March 1 in Luna Station Quarterly.

Namaste,

CK

Just For The Lovely

By wonderful chance I found The Kaleidoscope Painter last night. It's free, charming, and gorgeous--the perfect antidote to cold gray winter. Here's a pattern I constructed in a few seconds:

  

I love to just put the designer on Auto and enjoy it as my mandala mantra while I meditate. There's a Valentine Kaleidoscope maker, too.


And for another small escape, Fly Guy is a classic. Just load the game at the site, click the arrows, soar, and explore.

Have fun!


CK

Imperial Opulence

The new Sovran of Almancar had swept in like another sunset, arrayed magnificently in trailing raiment of deep rose satin brocaded in emerald-blue. A light mantle fell in a rustling torrent of gold-silk mosaic, its collar framing his head, its folds rippling about his shoulders to the ground...


The fabled city of Almancar is one of my favorite places in The Ryel Saga, because it is synonymous with the most refined luxury. It was a deep pleasure to create, and in doing so I drew from many times and places. Medieval Japan was a great influence. When I visited Tokyo and Kyoto in 2008, I was surprised at how much of the ancient glory not only survived, but thrived. In particular, the elegant garments that inspired the golden robes of my novel's nobility are still being made. The uchikake, at one time daily wear for Japanese aristocratic ladies, is now strictly wedding finery, to be worn by the bride during the ceremony and never afterward. Such magnificent garments take a year to create, and no two are alike; they are made of the finest silk, splendidly woven, dyed, and embroidered, and as is only fitting, they cost a fortune. A uchikake is worn beltless, as a coat atop the kimono; its padded hem trails several feet, and its hanging sleeves just clear the floor. With its elegance, opulence and otherworldliness, it is truly the garb of fantasy.


For the sultry climate of Almancar I made the uchikake much more light and airy, but changed nothing of its grandeur. Both men and women wear them in my novel, but exorbitant cost and stringent sumptuary laws limit their use to the wealthy and the nobility. The sole exceptions are the courtesans of the Diamond Heaven, Almancar's famed and magnificent pleasure quarter, and that district's clientele, who come from all over the world to taste the ruinous delights of the place.


Here are some glorious examples. Click the images for larger views, and imagine the rustle, the gleam, the grace.

 

CK

La Belle et la Bête

NEWS: I'm delighted to announce that in the last week I've received an award for Top Indie Fantasy of 2010 at the well-regarded site Red Adept Reviews.

*****

I seem to write only fables. All of my short stories are about lessons learned the hard way, and the Ryel Saga's ending fulfills with bittersweet irony the prophesy uttered by one of the story's most equivocal characters: 'You will have what you wish, but not as you wished it." The novel I'm now finishing, Faustine, is grounded in myth and legend, with a female protagonist embroiled in the classic diabolical bargain.*

The other day I was browsing the free movie site Veoh and to my happiness found one of my all-time favorite films, Jean Cocteau's La Belle et La Bête. I hadn't seen it in many years, and while I loved every moment of the re-acquaintance, I especially savored being able to replay the Beast sequences to my heart's delight. Everything about the Beast is riveting--his feral grace, his dark bejeweled Cavalier garb, his growly voice's savage inflections and courtly phrases, his ravenous desires quelled by the most tender adoration. Baroque, Byronic, utterly irresistible.

My favorite scene occurs midpoint in the film. The Beast has returned reeking from the hunt, his fangs and claws stained with fresh blood, his elegant attire muddied and torn. After a moment's hesitation he shoves open the door to Beauty's chamber and scans the room with burning eyes.

But Beauty is absent. "Ou est Belle?" he shouts in rage and terror to her mirror; and the glass reveals her robed like an angel, listening at the door. When she returns to the chamber and demands that he leave, the Beast, quelled by her fearless indignation, stammers that he merely wished to offer her a present, and it forms by magic in his bloodied hairy hand: three strands of great pearls, the gems of innocence clasped by diamond roses, reminding us that until Beauty came into his life the Beast considered roses 'the things I most love in all the world ' (ce que j'aime le mieux au monde). Disregarding the gift, Beauty again orders the Beast to leave; but her tone is more gentle the second time.

As he departs without a backward glance, his steps unsteady, the Beast passes a statue of a nymph; his hand grips its shoulder for support, then slowly travels downward to caress the bare marble breast of the image in a poignant gesture of regret and yearning. I'd never noticed this before, and it gave me chills, for it is the only overtly sensual act in the entire film, and leaves no doubt as to the Beast's intentions.

Since 1946 when this enrapturing film was made, cinema has become a thousandfold more complex, but no amount of special effects can take the place of heart. See it if you haven't yet, and watch it again if you have; one can never have too much beauty.

CK


(Click the photos to enlarge them; they deserve it!)

*Update, 17 December 2013: This book was completed in 2012 and published under the title Queen of Time. It's currently available digitally and in paperback at most online booksellers; the first chapters can be read gratis at my website Carolyn Kephart: Tales of Love and Magic.

Just Out!

I've gathered five of my short stories into a collection entitled PenTangle: Five Pointed Fables. It's available for the Kindle at Amazon.com, and will be appearing soon at Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, and various other e-book stores. (If it isn't listed as available, give it a day or so.)

Although I'd originally thought of using an actual pentangle for the cover, it looked too literal and didn't really fit the content. I finally decided on a starfish, because they're so strange and lovely.

The stories are all very short, fantastical, and meant to elicit reflection:

   The Kind Gods: Did the old gods really die? A warrior seeks answers at the burial-mound of his greatest enemy.
   The Heart's Desire: A government scryer's life is a prison until she and her bodyguard discover the ultimate secret language.
   Last Laughter: A cautionary tale about a wicked court jester and his comeuppance. First published in Silver Blade Fantasy Quarterly.
   Regenerated: Cela always hoped she’d find Jorgen again someday…but was this really Jorgen? A tenderly bitter tale of love and giant lizards, first published in Quantum Muse.
   Everafter Acres: Happily Ever After isn’t always perfect, but dark knights can be illuminating.

Five's my lucky number, so I'm hoping the book does well.

CK

Hot News

Today my novel The Ryel Saga: A Tale Of Love And Magic is being featured on the popular e-book site Daily Cheap Reads, and as an extra boost to the day I've been interviewed at Two Ends of the Pen, a terrific writers' blog.

What a great way to end the week!

Unreasonable Things

Oh, reason not the need! ~King Lear

During the Fall season I become at once nostalgic and merciless. I remember the past and either want it back or wish that it had never happened, and I sort out and/or get rid of whatever I feel I no longer have a need for. Useless knicknacks and trinkets, clothes that no longer suit me, shoes that never were comfortable, books and magazines that only take up space and collect dust, beliefs that no longer hold water...away with them. Winter is a spare, lean season only weeks away now, and I want to meet it on its own terms.

But some things I keep in defiance of mutability or reason. I love paper with a scribe's reverence (I love pens too, but that's another fetish for another blog entry). Empty books I'll probably always leave blank, delicate handmade washi  I just like to look at, origami paper too lovely to wreck by folding...I keep them safe and dry and bring them out now and then to contemplate, imagining possibilities. Here are some I recently collected on my travels to Japan and Taiwan; click on the images to enlarge them.

 Very fine origami paper. The picture doesn't do justice to the splendor of the gold highlights.

 A Japanese gift topper. I just can't bear to give it away yet.

An empty book that says it all, in shiny white with black flocked velvet. 

Anything I wrote in it would seem futile.

I suppose I acquired this in the naive hope that the contents would magically open up into the swan pictured on the wrapper. Had I looked closer I'd have realized that I'm expected to construct the bird myself from the enclosed myriad of tiny pink and red squares of paper. Maybe in my next life...

A couple of extremely teensy models (only a couple of inches high) based on very large buildings. I can't bring myself to pop them out of the cardboard and construct them.

A perfect notebook for an ironic angst-filled autobiography.
I'm saving it for later.

Regarding writing matters, I was recently interviewed by David Wisehart on his popular blog Kindle Author. David asked an intriguing array of questions that I greatly enjoyed answering. See what you think!

Namaste,

CK

Visions Of The Mystic East, Part Three

The two earlier installments of my Taiwan travels focused on exotic cuisine and gorgeous temples. This final segment will concern other aspects of Taipei, and some attractions outside the city. As with the first two parts, I was the photographer; click the images twice for the biggest view.

The bamboo-inspired tower of Taipei 101, which until recently was the world's tallest building. Within its towering shadow lies the city's upscale fashionable district, where European-style luxury combines with an elegance uniquely Eastern.

Inside Taipei 101's world-class shopping mall. Besides the trendy high-end boutiques one finds the world over, there were shops on the top floor's viewing area full of museum-quality Eastern jewelry and sculptures in coral and jade, with equally fabulous prices. I contented myself with the panorama of the city, watching as the sun slid into the mists, night stole over the land, and the lights came on little by little until everything sparkled as far as the eye could see.

Ooh la la! Frothy finery at one of the dozens of full-service bridal establishments on Taipei's 'Wedding Street.' Marriage is a very big business in Taiwan, with every step of the elaborate ceremony painstakingly planned and no expense spared. Brides change outfits several times during the big day; this gown seems destined for an especially grand ball.

This picture is so Taipei--a pearl tea break with a 

clearly cherished pet along for the ride. 

The entrance of Taipei's huge Jade Market. Antiques and other rarities are also sold there, making it a wonderful place to while away an afternoon. Expertise in jade takes long study, and I confess I couldn't see what made one bangle cost ten times as much as another; they all looked lovely to me.

Not everything in the Jade Market was expensive. These stone bead bracelets were only a couple of dollars apiece, and kindred bargains abounded.

The Flower Market is right next door to the Jade Market. Both take place only on weekends, and are thronged by tourists and townsfolk alike. Fresh flowers are a way of life in Taiwan.

Antique implements once used for drying the island's fragrant, famed Oolong. These were in the workroom of Taipei's oldest existing tea shop, where the proprietors, two charming sisters, gave us an after-hours tour of the premises and a tasting of rare brew thanks to T. C., who seems to know everyone!

Hip little bhikkus in a Buddhist religious goods shop. It was very hard to maintain my Zen equilibrium and not take one home with me, but I contented myself with a pair of moon blocks for my own personal divinations.

A view of Taipei's superlative subway--always spotless, civil, and on time to the instant. It's usually much more crowded than this picture shows, but we were coming home late from a perfect evening at the lively seaside district of Danshui, where Taipei goes to play on the warm summer nights.

A view not of a court lady's pavilion, but one of Taipei's restful parks. Every inch of the pond's surface was crowded with huge sweet heavenly pink lotuses, one of the glories of early summer in the Orient.

A surprise moon window view in a quiet neighborhood street. Every corner I turned in Taipei, I found something fascinating.

An exhibit demonstrating how the once-notorious Snake Alley in the old Dihua district got its name. Thanks to recent municipal improvements in the form of a new covered arcade and bright lighting, the place isn't nearly as raffish as it used to be.

Outside of town:

Besides exploring the city, we had a chance to visit some fascinating places on the outskirts, thanks to the kindness of Hub's colleague Otto Kong. As a pleasant finale, he and his wife invited us into their home for a memorable dinner of the freshest possible fish.

The serene spiritual fortress of Dharma Drum Mountain. Our visit there was an experience in order, generosity, kindness, and being deeply and happily at one with the world.

 

The midday meal at Dharma Drum is provided free of charge to the retreat's hundreds of visitors. Despite the crowd, everything was so well-organized by the numerous volunteers that we were served in a matter of minutes. The food was vegetarian and simply delicious; I finished my bowlful down to the last grain of rice.

Buddhist nuns at Dharma Drum. The moment I said hello, they all smiled and greeted me with the Namaste. Their grace and sincerity were deeply moving.

Otto showed us yet more equally unearthly, unforgettable places:

Natural statuary at Yehliu Geopark, an incredibly strange and 

beautiful landscape on the edge of the sea. 

The park's most famous formation, 

The Queen's Head. 

The above image really must be clicked twice for the full enlargement. On a prime location overlooking the ocean stands this fantastic city, inhabited solely by the dead. Confucian tenets honor ancestors, and palatial tombs like these attest to the most profound filial piety. The day was drizzly and gray and the place was deserted, adding to the solemn, eerie atmosphere.

A stucco relief (huge, covering an entire wall) portraying a gathering of the gods, in an eye-bogglingly gorgeous temple at an otherwise plain little town named after the goddess of mercy, Guanyin.

I'll always be grateful that I had a chance to visit such a fascinating country. As a final image for this, my third and last Taiwan blog post, here's a pair of perfect bunches hanging out at a favorite fruit market:

I hope you enjoyed the travelogue as much as I enjoyed the trip! My upcoming posts will be all about Fall, the season that resonates most with me.

CK

Visions Of The Mystic East, Part Two

Thanks to everyone who read the first installment of my sojourn in Taiwan. Part One described culinary adventures; this entry will explore the spiritual side, which left a deep, inspiring imprint on my imagination. Taipei is a city of sometimes startling contrasts, where ancient folkways in the older parts of town are a world apart from the trendy district shadowed by the towering spire of Taipei 101. Hub and I visited as many temples as we could, and our friend T. C. Yuan  took us to even more, far from the beaten tourist track. The photos featured here were taken by me; click on them for a larger view. For Part Three, click here.

T. C. announces himself to the world beyond this at the Confucian Temple. The prevailing belief system in Taiwan mingles many teachings, creating a uniquely independent view of one's relationship to the divine. There exists no formal notion of a church in its Western sense: no stipulated assemblies, no specified hours of worship, no sermons, no hymns, no commandments, no dress code. Temples can be devoted to the Buddha, Confucius, the traditional Chinese gods, or all three together. One visits a temple for as long as it takes to ask the intercession of the higher powers or to commune with a loved one; there are no seats, but padded boards allow worshipers to kneel in comfort as they pray or cast oracle blocks.

 

Offerings at Longshan, one of the oldest temples in Taipei and thronged at all hours. My first visit there was at night, and the place was packed. Even though it was right next to a train stop and across from a busily trafficked shopping street, once I passed through its gates I entered a different plane of reality. I'll never forget the gold-drenched splendor glowing in the light of red lanterns, the otherworldly fragrance of jasmine and incense rising on the warm spring air, the clatter of moon blocks (bwa bwei), the soft floating strains of meditative music, and the sense of feeling at once utterly transported, and completely at home.

Flower offerings at Longshan: small bouquets of jasmine and other blossoms attached to paper saucers, sold by vendors outside the temple gate.

Well-worn moon blocks. One asks the gods a question, takes a pair of blocks at random and throws them on the temple floor. If the result is one flat side and one curved, then the answer is yes; two flat or curved sides down means try again. Three throws per question is usual.

 An exquisitely folded paper basket full of flowers, set atop a temple plinth as a decoration.

Offerings at the highly frequented temple of Gong Kuan, who is both the god of literature and the god of war. Note the beribboned pyramid of Taiwan Beer in the foreground. Both deities and departed loved ones receive gifts, usually of food, drink, or flowers; some temples accept meat offerings.

Another view of the lavish offerings at Gong Kuan temple. A small donation buys a paper bag full of gifts for the gods: candles, incense, snacks, and joss money. Shops outside the temple sell more offerings. It's an eye-widening display, at once a symbol of life's impermanence and the human need to connect with a realm beyond this flawed reality.

Rituals are as simple or as complicated as one feels necessary, but T. C. kindly showed me the customary method of visiting a temple. One enters, takes a bundle of incense--which is always available, abundant, and free--lights it, and makes a tour of the altars, starting with the one belonging to the principal god. After some moments of homage, a stick of incense is left in the burner of each shrine. This one is dedicated to the Buddha of the Four Directions, originally a Hindu deity.

A joss oven--very restrained in design--part of a temple complex. Paper 'god money' is burned not only in ovens like this one, but in metal barrels made for the purpose and found everywhere in Taipei's older, traditional neighborhoods.

A sidewalk offering table displayed by a local business to insure the favor of the gods. Offerings are left out for a few hours, then brought back indoors after the deities have enjoyed their essence. The red and gold stack of paper at the upper left is joss, which in addition to being produced in enormous quantities and sold for next to nothing is made not by machine, but by hand.

Here was a high point. We'd visited the Raohe night market, one of the most crowded we'd yet seen, with two lanes of one-way-only pedestrian traffic hemmed in by shops and divided by a long row of food stalls and tables packed with friends and families enjoying themselves; there wasn't even room for the usually ubiquitous motor scooters. T. C. (visible in the right foreground) promised us a surprise at the end, and he stunned us with this temple. It had four stories, and was more dazzling/elaborate/marvelous than any other we'd yet seen, which by this time in our visit was saying a great deal.

An altar to the God of Examinations at the Raohe temple, with offerings of test papers, snacks, and other items more unlikely. Some of them put me in mind of a favorite night market delicacy, scallion pancakes.

One of the unique features of the Raohe temple were the big decorations of  silk and wire lantern sculptures that seemed to float from every floor over the courtyard, many of them featuring playful tigers for 2010. This flower arrangement caught my eye.

 

A balcony on the way up the hundreds of steps leading to a very special temple on Taipei's outskirts. T. C. guided us to this wonderful place, and we felt privileged to be able to see it. The day was thick with mist, lending an air of exotic mystery that was quaintly dispelled by the down-home organic neighborhood atmosphere around the sacred precinct: kids running about playing, people snacking at the nearby outdoor eatery or shopping for amulets, and dogs perfectly welcome.

The third and concluding part of Visions will describe Taipei's modern side, as well as some noteworthy sights outside the city. I really enjoyed writing this entry, although it took a while to complete because of the hundreds of snapshots that I needed to sift through, and the photoshopping necessary for the chosen ones. Thanks for reading!

Ja ne,

CK