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is more beautiful what she pack!
Saturday, 16 June 2007 07:43 pmPhew! dodged a bullet there. Jo&stv, the fiends, were poised with more bunny accessories, namely a set of pastel plastic hair clips, combs and elastic bands designed for very small girls with no taste and an unhealthy obsession with cutesy flowers and pink. Also, alas, no actual grasp of the English language, judging by the set's packaging copy, immortalised in the subject line. I am happy to be able to report that I have avoided further sanity-warping bunny-accessorising by more or less pinning this Disney chapter to the mat, and will spend the next two days in gratuitous nit-picking before shunting the whole boiling off to my hapless editor.
In between muttering calumnies about the probable parentage of Disney critics, I found time to go to the local Book Fair today, twice - once in the character of Assistant Niece-Herder, the other in the slightly more glamorous character of panelist in a presentation on Lewis Carroll for the fantasy/sf stand. The Book Fair is a very odd cultural space: it's taking place in the huge and glitzy environs of the convention centre, and is unbelievably massive - book-laden stands as far as the eye can see. As you wander down the endless aisles with thousands of titles dancing before your eyes, breathless touts dash up to you, demanding your instant attendance at book launches, talks, signings and other mad literary activities. Many of the stands are not actually selling books, however: the endless bright and shiny shelves contain sample copies, or copies available only to wholesalers. The whole constitutes a sensory overload so enormous that one doesn't even spend much time paging through the available tomes. Instead, there's a sort of zen pleasure simply in wandering through the book-laden environs, allowing the mere fact of all this literature, and all these people producing it, to sink gently and reassuringly into one's back-brain. Possibly it's the L-space warping my perceptions.
I am led to believe by impartial observers (jo&stv, so not that impartial) that I'm reasonably interesting and articulate on the subject of Lewis Carroll, and that neither the vocabulary nor the level of analysis became too dense or polysyllabic. This is something of a relief, since I do the whole thing over again tomorrow, except about Terry Pratchett. I can only hope my rather pleasant co-panelist has had less coffee this time round, he was more or less bouncing off the walls.
In between muttering calumnies about the probable parentage of Disney critics, I found time to go to the local Book Fair today, twice - once in the character of Assistant Niece-Herder, the other in the slightly more glamorous character of panelist in a presentation on Lewis Carroll for the fantasy/sf stand. The Book Fair is a very odd cultural space: it's taking place in the huge and glitzy environs of the convention centre, and is unbelievably massive - book-laden stands as far as the eye can see. As you wander down the endless aisles with thousands of titles dancing before your eyes, breathless touts dash up to you, demanding your instant attendance at book launches, talks, signings and other mad literary activities. Many of the stands are not actually selling books, however: the endless bright and shiny shelves contain sample copies, or copies available only to wholesalers. The whole constitutes a sensory overload so enormous that one doesn't even spend much time paging through the available tomes. Instead, there's a sort of zen pleasure simply in wandering through the book-laden environs, allowing the mere fact of all this literature, and all these people producing it, to sink gently and reassuringly into one's back-brain. Possibly it's the L-space warping my perceptions.
I am led to believe by impartial observers (jo&stv, so not that impartial) that I'm reasonably interesting and articulate on the subject of Lewis Carroll, and that neither the vocabulary nor the level of analysis became too dense or polysyllabic. This is something of a relief, since I do the whole thing over again tomorrow, except about Terry Pratchett. I can only hope my rather pleasant co-panelist has had less coffee this time round, he was more or less bouncing off the walls.
 | Bunny Threat Level: Red! Bright red, with red flashing lights. |
