Words I'd like to reclaim: Journey

It can't always be a metaphor, darn it.

Sometimes a journey is just a journey.

At some time, however, the poor word was shanghai'd by the Dark Lord of Overly-Used Metaphor. It is no longer simply a word to describe a trip from one place to another: it has become synonymous with a Life Journey, or a Journey of the Spirit.

You can tell by my use of capitals that I'm feeling uppity.

Darn you, Journey. I used to be able to pull into a rest stop for  a Timmies, now I have to stop in order to gain valuable life experience. It used to be easy to ask a buddy along; now, if I ask a friend to come on a journey with me, they begin to make wedding plans.

Let me tell you something, Journey: it's not always about testing your faith. Sometimes it's about testing every butter tart in every bakery along the route. Sometimes it's about listening to The Barenaked Ladies for the entire 4 hours. Sometimes it's about just getting the heck out of the house.

I don't want to hurt your feelings, Journey, but sometimes personal growth is a load of hooie.

Come back down to the real world, Journey. Cut your ties to reality television; those people need to make an effort to find a word which more accurately describes whatever it is they're doing. Come back to the real world, and we'll pack us a toothbrush and $5. We'll pile into the car and take a journey, from point A to point B.

And I suspect that will be as far as we need to go.

Words I'd like to reclaim: Graphic

It's hardly offensive.

I get it.

I get that English is a living language, forever changing, forever adapting to the needs of those who speak it. That's right and good and as it should be.

Most new words and word usages don't bother me at all. I laugh when someone 'tweets' on Twitter, because I suspect we're all a bunch of 'twits', but I get it. I cringe when I'm asked to 'action' something, but fine, it's a quick and easy way to ask me get something done. It was ages before I figured out what LOL was, and I'm still not sure about LMFAO (but my son told me it has a bad word in it...ok), but I can read between the lines.

I would however, like to reclaim the word 'graphic'. Think about it.

In writing, the word 'graphic' (adj.) refers to writing which is clear and effective. Graphic writing expresses very clearly what it is the writer wants to express. By extension, a graphic image is also one which is clear and effective.

Shouldn't this be a GOOD thing?

Yet every time I turn on the television, I am warned away from programmes which contain graphic images, because I may be offended by them. It seems to me that I should be more offended by shows which do not use graphic images, otherwise, why did I spend so much money on a television with HD capabilities?

Of course, what the network really means is that the programme I am about to watch contains graphic images of something which I, or my kids, might find upsetting. Thank you for the warning, but please, please, stop misusing the much-maligned adjective 'graphic'.

I find it offensive.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Wrong

'Nuff said.

Thanks to The Daily Press Weekly Photo Challenge

Best Summer of My Life

Somewhere between 1987 and 1989, I learned strength.

I know exactly how it began: a broken heart and the face-slap of reality that accompanied it. I had been desperartely hurt, and when I patched myself back together I was not quite the same person I had been before.

I came out of that heartbreak feeling that the world had taken a turn for the nasty. But I went to university and then I went to Japan. I did things I never thought I would have the courage to do. And when I took a moment to think back on what I had done, I realized that that breaking moment in my life was what had made it all possible.

I had learned the kind of person I truly was. I had learned what friendship was. I had learned to be brave. It was not an instant thing, of course, but the pain from that heartbreak had changed me profoundly.

Good for you. Now go learn something.

It's tempting to think that only the good things in life have value, but we need to get the most out of our bad experiences as well. Why let them bring you down when you can use them to lift you up?

Do I wish I had not been so badly hurt when I was seventeen? Sure, but would I trade in the person I am today?

Never.

You're Halfway There, Baby!

Ahhh, LEGO, if only it were this easy.

Summer time....

...if you quoted Gershwin when you finished that sentence, then you're kids have either left home or you were smart enough to think 'wait a minute...' when someone suggested having children.

For the rest of us, the good news is that we're a short four weeks away from the most wonderful time of the year: Back To School.

Sure, summer is great. You don't have to make lunches, you don't have to kick the kids out the door as the bus pulls to a stop, you don't have to field phone calls from three different teachers on the SAME DAY telling you your kids are idiots. But if, like most of us, today was the twentieth day in a row you were awakened at 6 am to the gentle voice of your 7-year-old telling you his brother has punched him in the face, summer can feel a lot like a prison sentence.

And the parole board will not be meeting again until 2025.

You've gone to the beach, you've had a picnic, you've taken them camping, you've signed up for Summer Reads at the library, you've taught wee Johnny to ride his bike, you've had playdates, you've turned your kitchen into a science lab and you've not even cracked the first book in your own summer reading list.

But there is strength in numbers. The next time precious Johnny spends thirty seconds outside and then complains that there's nothing to do (childhood myopia does not allow him to see the brand new trampoline he got for his birthday yesterday), remember you are not alone. All over this fine nation, parents just like you are 'x'ing off the days until the first day of school. Until then, breathe deeply, have a glass of wine and remember that no one but you cares if the clothes Johhny is wearing today are the exact same ones he was wearing on the last day of school.

Good luck.

Go Indie: my review of CLAUS: LEGEND OF THE FAT MAN by Tony Bertauski

Cover Design: Tony Bertauski

Tony Bertauski’s novel follows the adventures of the Santa family, Nicholas, Jessica and their son Jon, at the North Pole. 

And that is as far as your familiarity with the classic Christmas tale will get you. 

There’s no Nutcracker here (and if there is, you’d better watch out!). This is a twisted version of Santa Claus. 

It is 1818, and the Santa family has boarded the Alexander, the ship which, with the Isabella, under the command of Captain John Ross, was tasked with finding the hoped-for North West passage. Captain Ross was ultimately unsuccessful, turning back east of Baffin Bay when he saw what he thought were mountains blocking egress from Lancaster Sound, but for Tony Bertauski’s Santa family, Ross’ failure is merely the next step in their own quest for adventure and the unknown. 

The Santa family goes ashore and slips away from their companions. Lucky enough to be found by the Inuit, over the next two years the Santa’s learn to survive in the harsh climate. 

Yet even this is not enough for the risk-seeking family. They decide they need to see the North Pole, against the advice of their hosts. As they travel, the world turns stranger and stranger. Finally, their Inuit guides abandon them to certain death, taking with them the dogs, the sleds and all the supplies. The Santa family is on their own. 

And this adventure is just beginning. 

Above the Arctic Circle, a civil war has been waging for centuries. On one side, Jocah leads a group of elven forced to move from hiding place to hiding place. On the other side, Jack, the Cold One, squats in his palace at the North Pole and plots his takeover of the entire world. When three warmbloods blunder into his territory, it seems Jack’s plans can finally come to fruition. 

The family is separated. Nicholas, captured by Jack’s forces, is kept prisoner in Claus’ lab and will be used to bring destruction to all warmbloods on the planet. Jessica and Jon, meanwhile, find succour with Jocah’s people, where they learn the true nature of the gentle elven and meet the recipients of their genetic modification: Dasher, Dancer and the boys, who don’t fly, but rather leap prodigiously from place to place, lugging sleigh-fulls of rebel elven behind them. 

It’s an odd setting, an even odder cast, but there is something rather satisfying about this not-a-Christmas tale, especially when treated with Bertauski’s wry humour. I laughed out loud when an elven, upon being asked if he was human, took real offense at the notion. The sociopathic Jack appears truly unhinged, yet Bertauski carefully provides real reason for the insanity rather than leave it to ‘he’s bad because he’s bad’. Claus himself is truly ambiguous, a fantastic switch from the Claus tales I have come across in the past. The elven themselves, while stereotyped at the beginning, take on greater complexity and depth. It is as if Bertauski is discovering them for himself as he writes. 

I confess I wished more of the novel. While it is obviously not his purpose, Bertauski has missed a wonderful opportunity to educate his audience. Realistic period details are generally lacking. After two years living with the Inuit, it is unlikely that the Santa family would be keeping themselves warm with nothing more than wolf skins. Scenes taking place in Sweden at the turn of the nineteenth century lack the full sensory detail that would bring the characters alive for the reader. And, there is little or no mention of the prevalent social mores that would certainly have stood in the way of the romance between Jessica and Nicholas. 

My overall feeling, as an adult reader, was that there was a lot of missed opportunity here. Bertauski raises many moral and ethical questions in this novel, questions which will face his YA audience in a very real way in the near future. The elven have genetically modified the reindeer to suit their needs in a time of war. Nowhere, however, is the question of their right to do this raised. The Santa family themselves are genetically modified without their permission in order to better survive the Arctic. Again, the right of this is not addressed. Jack, the villain, has plans to wipe out the human race; his complaint is that mankind is destroying the planet. Given the realities of climate change today, Jack’s criticisms are valid. His method is extreme, of course, but at least he’s working on a solution. Again, the points are raised, but not addressed. 

Still, there are moments of beautiful writing in this novel, where Bertauski raises his prose to an almost literary level. And the theme of the novel, that to walk along the path of truth can be very uncomfortable, is the kind of idea sadly lacking in the day-to-day. In the end, it is not A-bombs, stealth technology and genetic modification that save the day, but plain, bare Truth.

You can find Tony's books at http://bertauski.com/