
Don’t you dare intrude on the contentment

You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall

Is the German Romantic opera composer the biggest successful egotist in the history of art? (He couldn’t even compose an effective symphony, yet look, he couldn’t trust anyone else with a libretto, either.)
He was definitely stuck in a Madonna/whore complex regarding women and, more specifically, women within further Roman Catholic entanglements like relics and grails and a sword or spear or two. Where was Freud? Talk about symbolism? It all gets pretty lurid, even before we get to the serious limitations regarding his immortals. I wouldn’t call them gods, exactly, but rather something more like today’s tainted celebrities and political hopefuls. What losers! So badly dressed, at that.
He definitely wouldn’t have gone for today’s fashion supermodels, either. Everything in his world is hefty, leading to some of the most sumptuous music ever. Seems nobody ever asked how he really felt about his mother. Give me some more sumptuous scoring, please.
And yes, he goes way over the top, including the seemingly endlessly boring stretches of boredom.
As Mark Twain said, he’s not nearly as bad as he sounds.
Not that he can apparently help it.
But then, as critic Alex Ross has elaborated, he’s also the foundation of Hollywood, from the plots and scenery all the way up. Think of the thousands involved in each movie and then the music.
For years now, I’ve been explaining opera as the movies of their time. Turns out to be more accurate than I imagined.
it’s autumn when the nine-volt battery for my clock radio keeps time in a power outage so the alarm will go off when it’s supposed to rather than umpteen hours later died in the tropical heat wave during my absence and the warning light kept driving me nuts so I walked to the corner grocery for a replacement and on the trek home stopped at the farm market and picked up a quart of fresh cider full of Vitamin C (how rational!) overlooking the windy interplay of sunlight and clouds just down the street of shape notes with the earlier version of “Morning Star” lyrics
These are ten I’ve personally learned from.
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Looking back, let me add that all of them were in high-stress situations.
If we were looking at the top tier nationally, I’d have to name paragons at the New York Herald Tribune in its final years or some of the outstanding pros I called on during my stint at Tribune Media Services.
In my novel What’s Left, they aren’t a typical Greek-American family. Not exactly. But they’re not like Cassia’s classmates’ homes, either.
How would you say yours differs from a “normal” family?
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Many of the Pacific Northwest’s most prominent features are known by the names of Europeans or their descendants, rather than their earlier Native designations. Since the tribes on one side of the Cascade mountains had a different language stock than those of the other side, the names could be quite different.
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There’s some rich mythology involving these names and their personalized characteristics. For instance, the brothers Patoh/Klickitat and Wy’east, after traveling down the Columbia River from the far north to resettle, entered into some heated rivalry for the fair maiden Loowit/Louwala Clough. Their volcanic eruptions of jealousy and earth quaking even resulted in the collapse of the Bridge of the Gods across the river, producing a series of rapids.
There’s plenty more, if you chose to investigate. Any to share from where you live?
After playing a central role in two previous novels, Nita returns in What’s Left, where she develops a special bond with her niece, once Cassia reaches adolescence.
When you were younger, was there an adult you admired who never looked down to you because you were “just a kid”?