22 Dec

Moominland Midwinter

moominland midwinter

I was in a toy store a few weeks ago, looking for presents for small children of my acquaintance  when I fell into the vortex of the book section. I don’t know exactly what happened, but I came home with a copy of Moominland Midwinter by Tove Jansson. I probably own this book already, at my parents’ house, but it was in the clearance section, and a Tove Jansson book always needs a good home. Plus, I’d been thinking about the Moomins lately as an example of northern literature. Read More

06 Dec

Jack London’s Martin Eden and supporting the creative process

Jack London

Jack London at work

I just finished reading Jack London’s Martin Eden, and my brain is a bit on fire. If you are an aspiring writer, then you should definitely read it. If you are a spouse or relative of an aspiring writer, then you should probably read it, too. Read More

20 Nov

The Battle of the Grasshopper

flotsam

dead grasshopper by leticia chamorro via flickr

It’s November again and I am Nanowrimoing my little heart out, so I’ll be reposting a few things from way back when, and concentrating on the new novel climbing out of my head.

This time we’re going way, way, way back, because I was on the internet pretty young and kept an online journal, which you can still see in all it’s embarassingly neon-colored glory (although I didn’t get into animations or midi players, thankfully) on Angelfire. This is a from my freshman year of high school, and emotions were running hot in my family.

As promised, the story of the grasshopper and it’s effects on my life.

I spent the second week of May in New Mexico, which is an entirely different story. However, before I left, I notified all my teachers, except two — my Russian teacher, who would also be gone most of the same week and wouldn’t care anyways, and my biology teacher. Actually that’s not completely true. I had mentioned to my biology teacher that I would be gone, but on the day I told all my teachers that I would be absent and was there any work I’d be missing? I didn’t have biology and therefore never had an official type conversation with him about it.

Time passes and I returned, having missed a full week of biology. On my return to the class, I found I had missed three assignments, a chapter review, an arthropod drawing and the dissection of a grasshopper. I turned in the review, I drew the arthropod (thought it sure wasn’t pretty) and I contemplated the grasshopper dissection. At that time, I did have the chance to make up the dissection.

I decided, hey, what the heck, I won’t dissect the grasshopper. Doubtless, you’ll want to know the reasoning behind this decision. 1) I don’t care what chemicals they feed them, how big can a grasshopper get? It’s gonna be tiny and I won’t be able to tell what it’s insides are, even if I did care. 2) Somebody told me they squirted. 3) I’ve already dissected a worm, a crayfish and a starfish. How big a dent could a zero for a grasshopper make? 4) It’s a smelly, dead thing. I don’t like smelly, dead things.

So, I made my decision, I was conscious of it, I didn’t change my mind and I felt good and control of my life (if only a small portion of it).

Thursday came and 7th hour. Some guy who I know by name only came in to make up a grasshopper dissection. Sitting on my desk and coloring in my tesselation from math, I watched him out of the corner of my eye. The grasshopper was one ugly sucker, about 2 inches long. The biology teacher told me I could join him, if I wanted. “I don’t like smelly, dead things,” I replied, and continued my coloring.

Another day or two went by. The teacher was working on grades. “Bonnie,” he told me, “if you don’t do that grasshopper you can’t get an A.” Fine with me. My world won’t end with a B in Biology.

More time passed (though not a lot) and it was the end of the school year. I got my project reward slips and took them home. (Project reward is a program at my school where if you haven’t missed more that five days of school, or if you have an A or B grade or haven’t been in trouble you don’t have to take exams in whatever classes your parents will sign you off on.) I remembered to give the slips to my mother. “I’m only going to sign the ones for classes you have As in,” my mother said. Shit, said my brain, argued with itself for a while then directed my mouth to admit to having a B in biology. “Why’s that?” my mother asked, “because it’s biology?” (I have a history of hating, not caring about and generally not doing fantastic in science.) “Umm,” I said, and ended up telling her about the grasshopper.

Now, I may think it’s great when I make decisions and do things for myself but my parents don’t agree. In fact, this time, they disagreed with me quite emphatically.

Someday, my mother informed me, when you have a 3.98 gpa and you’re not the valedictorian, you’ll regret this.

If you want to go to a good school and get scholarships you need to work. (oh yes daddy, I’m such a slacker, of course) The people who get scholarships are the people who work and who don’t give up. (I’ll never let go dad, I’ll never let go…)

And it was decided by the Powers That Be that I was an evil child and would be taking the biology final. The Powers also decreed that for ever grade below an A I would be off the computer for an additional week. Addictional to off till the end of school, but although school ended of Thursday, these weeks will end on Saturdays, the Powers told me.

All arguments against the Powers are ignored. But if I’ll be majoring in English, why would one bio grade matter? What science scholarships would I be applying for anyway? Isn’t it my life? (Not till I’m 21, as I was informed by my male parental unit, several arguments ago. It might have been nicer to have been slapped.)

Two things remain on the tip of my mind. Should you have the right to ruin your own frickin’ life? and It’s a B! What’s so frickin bad about a B?

Looking back now, I can see it more from my parents’ point of view, but I also still feel a bit smug, because I was salutatorian in my graduating class and went to a perfectly nice liberal arts college with my 3.98 GPA. And I’m more interested in science these days, but I have no regrets about that grasshopper, and I don’t think that I’d jump at the chance to dissect one today.

12 Nov

From an Alaskan point of view

Roughly equivalent, right? Maybe??

I sent another story through critters.org and got back a lot of helpful commentary. Isobel and the Mammoths is going to be a teaser for the series I am currently working on – Isobel the Bear Eater. This particular project is going to be an interesting one. I am from Alaska, and have a degree in Russian, which gives me an insider view to the pan-Arctic culture that I am both borrowing from and creating, but leaves me really open to making references that are obvious to me but obscure to most everyone else. The critters pointed that out several cases where I had done this.

I’ll be working to make things clear to a general audience, of course, but there’s a part of me that delights in these small confusions. It’s payback, you see, for when I was reading stories as an Alaskan child, and there were plenty of references that were alien to me. (Except for maybe the Moomin Trolls. But obviously the Finns understand.)

What was a firefly? A toll bridge? A badger? A thirty-story apartment building? How could you tell a garter snake from a rattlesnake?

Robin Hood was always hunting deer, an animal I knew only from brief glimpses when visiting relatives in Pennsylvania, part of that vast territory that Alaskans refer to as the “Lower 48” or simply, “Outside.” I enjoyed Beatrix Potter, but it was moose that ate things in our garden, not rabbits, and I understood that hedgehogs were like porcupines, but smaller.

Botanical references were off, too. I never saw a weeping willow until I went to college in Connecticut. Tulips grew the floral department of the grocery store, not in fields. There were no cultivated fields – we never went on road trips and drove past fields or corn or cows or anything. Dogwood is a flower, maybe 8 inches high, not a tree. And while we’re at it, flowers on trees? What is this madness?

Dogwood versus Dwarf Dogwood. Wha?

Dogwood versus Dwarf Dogwood. Wha?

One of the pieces of advice I see over and over is “write what you want to read.” So that’s what I’m doing. I want to read something in a world familiar to me. A world where summers are blinding light and endless adventure and winters are a time for telling stories next to a wood stove. A world with bears and berries in the woods, with salmon and sea stars in the ocean. Grumbling porcupines. Roiling ash clouds. Long crimson sunsets over the ocean; clouds streaked fluorescent orange over the mountains in the morning. Sea otters rolling in the water, scrubbing their hair just like you do in the shower. The way that cold snow squeaks underfoot or the spaceship noises that ice makes.

I could go on, but I think I need to get back to Isobel. There’s this spirit-fox that has been following her and she’s trying to figure out why…

11 Nov

Kamchatka Fall Festival «Alkhalalalai»

Art imitates life.

I am a good chunk into this year’s NaNoWriMo project, the first in a series of stories about Isobel the Bear Eater. Briefly, the series is epic fantasy in an alternate history Siberia. Although I have been doing a fair amount of research on the mythology of the indigenous peoples of Siberia and the Russian Far East, as well as drawing on my own experiences growing up in Alaska, there are quite a few things I am muddling. Like adding obvious magic, and fiddling a bit with geography, and, well, you don’t care because you don’t know the story.

But here’s something I thought I was making up – an end of summer festival to say “yay! we have enough food and we’ll probably make it through the winter, so let’s have a dance party!” – and here’s a Russian news story on, well, an end of summer festival to say “yay! we have enough food and we’ll probably make it through the winter, so let’s have a dance party!”

If you don’t speak Russian, here’s the gist of it:
The Itelmen, Koryaks and other native groups on the Kamchatka Peninsula thank the spirits for a plentiful harvest during a festival called “Alkhalalalai.” It’s pretty much a sin to do any work during the holiday, instead everyone shares all the food they’ve gathered. There’s also a dance marathon, with strict rules – if you stop for more than 3 minutes, then you’re out. There’s singing and dancing with drums, and also throat-singing. (That’s the seagull imitation.) Close up quote from woman: “Now I understand how important it is for people to dance, because it’s not just physical movement. There’s a spiritual connection between people.” The dance marathon lasted for 16 hours and 10 minutes. The spirits should be satisfied.

30 Oct

What the Chukchis eat in the Russian Far East

Dishes of the Peoples of Yakutia

I am prepping for NaNoWriMo, as I may have mentioned, and I am super excited about it, because I’m planning an epic fantasy set in something like Siberia/the Russian Far East, except there is magic around, and the indigenous peoples have the political cooperation and shamanistic powers to drive back the Cossacks instead of becoming a fur-producing colony for the Russian Empire.

As such, I’ve been reading about Siberian history, and the mythology of various peoples of the RFE, making good use of my Russian degree. I’ve always been interested in RFE history, since it’s only a hop, skip, and a jump from Alaskan history, so I have some seemingly random references that are suddenly helpful, like this cookbook. Why do I have “Dishes of the Peoples of Yakutia”? No idea. But now it is providing me with helpful information on the diet of the Sakha [Yakuts], Evens, Evenks, Yukaghirs, and Chukchis. I started with Chukchis, because I’ve been reading some of Waldemar Bogoras’s texts on the Chukchi. Here’s my own rough translation of this cookbook’s Chukchi section, with occasional personal commentary in italics. The Russian text happens to be online already. I should note that the authors say there are few Chukchi around in Yakutia (I believe they mostly live in the next region over, Chukotka), and therefore their recipes are all sourced from other publications.

Chukchis hunted for wild reindeer, marine mammals, wild fowl and other game. They also fished, gathered wild berries, edibles plants and their roots. They boiled or roasted meat and fish, but also dried many products.

  • Pal’gyn [Пальгын] – Fat skimmed off of crushed and boiled reindeer bones, mixed with minced greens or boiled willow leaves and sorrel. Also mixed with meat for a smoked reindeer sausage.
  • Vil’mulimul’ [Вильмулимуль] – Reindeer blood, kidney, liver, ears, roasted hooves, and lips mixed with berries and sorrel and stuffed into a stomach, which is dried and then saved in cold storage and fermented over winter to provide a rich spring food, full of calories and vitamins. This food is made by many northern peoples.
  • Kykvatol’ [Кыкватоль] – Reindeer meat dried during windy weather in summer, or in the smoke indoors in wet weather. Outer layer is dry, but the interior remains fresh. It is sliced before eating, and fried if there are raw sections.
  • Nuvkurak [Нувкурак] – Whale meat dried until it has a hard crust while the inside of the meat remains raw. This is boiled in large cauldrons and stored in jars of seal oil. This is only used during winter. I was recently reading The Shaman’s Coat by Anna Reid, who mentions that boiled whale meat was quite succulent.
  • Mantak (or Intilgyn) for future use [Мантак (или интилгын) впрок] – Chukchis, as well as eskimos, widely used whale meat and whale skin [blubber?]. Blubber with tallow was eat raw and boiled. It was boiled for future use, and stored in jars with water and leaves of fireweed. This was a winter food. The leaves provided a pleasant smell and helped it keep longer. At the first frost in the fall, fresh blubber with tallow was put in a pit for meat. [This is a reasonable storage option in regions with permafrost.] Here it stayed until spring. In the winter it was eaten frozen, before bed. It was eaten boiled with a porridge made of the kyiugak plant.
  • Dish of roots of grasses or herbs [Блюда из корней трав] – Peeled and washed roots and stems of edible plants are minced and then pounded into an evenly mixed mass then mixed with finely chopped reindeer meat and seal oil. This is a stand alone dish, but can be eaten with other dishes.
  • K’uvykhsi [К’увыхси] – The upper stem and leaves of [three-wing-fruit] are gathered before it flowers and saved for later. The grass is boiled, cream scalded… too many exotic words in this one, but it is added to all traditional dishes.
  • Fermented reindeer [Квашеные оленина] – Layers of reindeer meat and bones are tightly packed into a bag of either seal or reindeer skin, called a tenegyn. In this summer, the tenegyn is buried near any remaining patches of snow, and snow piled on top. In the winter the preserved meat is dug up.
  • Fermented heads [Квашеные головы] – In mid-summer, when salmon first return, they begin to ferment the heads of these fish. First they make a small hole, taking up sod/turf from the earth. The hole is prepared for the heads. The bottom is covered with willow switches or sod, and on top of this a layer of fish spines. The heads are placed on the spines. Then the heads are covered with another layer of spines and on that, sod. They put earth over this and lightly tamp it down. Later, when the earth settles to be level with the sod, they take the heads out of the pit. Fermented heads are calculated to be ready in September, for the arrival of those who went far away for work. Apparently fermentation in plastic bags or buckets leads to botulism, while the traditional methods are safer.
  • Boiled meat [Мясо отварное] – Reindeer meat is cut into small chunks. As many chunks as needed for a portion are put into a pot. Boil until ready: leave it a little under-cooked otherwise the reindeer loses its juiciness and the taste peculiar to this animal. Salt to taste. Remove the cooked meat from the broth and cut into small pieces. Pour broth over meat and serve.

I think I have literally had this
Russian dictionary for fifteen years.

Perhaps next time I’ll share the dishes of the Yukhagirs, one of which is a cold drink made of whitefish caviar.

Apparently reading Russian language sources for my current project is the reason why I acquired US Dept. Of the Interior Fish & Wildlife Service Circular 43, “Glossary of Marine Conservation Terms in English and Russian,” compiled in 1956, and “My Nose Is Frostbitten: Useful Phrases for Russian-American Exchanges” by Melissa Chapin, even though neither or them can tell me what трехкрылоплодный горец is. Etymologically, I think it breaks down to three-wing-fruited mountaineer, which doesn’t help me place it in English. Apparently I need a botanical glossary as well!