Did You Get April Fooled?

Yup, it's that time of year again. I didn't put up an April fool, because I think they're kind of mean, but I thought I'd share the little rhyme people in Finland use to mock those that get fooled.


                                          "Aprillia, syö silliä, juo kuravettä päälle!"


                  (Translation: April fools', eat herring, wash it down with muddy water.)

     
                                             Aaand, once more in Swedish:


                      "April, april, din dumma sill, jag kan lura dig vart jag vill!"


     (Translation: April Fools', April Fools', you stupid herring, I can lure you where I will.)


                                                Isn't tradition great?

What's Your Preferred Caffeine Delivery System?

                  Here are a few new favourites. These two I got as a gift to Hubby for Valentine's day.

                                 

            This is from the same shop. You can't have too many fun writing mugs, can you?

                                             But this next one is the best. Just look!

                                                             And this is the back. 

                      

                        All of these are from Lenny Mud on Etsy. He also sells yarn bowls.
                                   (I wish I knitted just so I could get this dalek one.)

Etymology Expeditions: Spiritual Songs

I'll admit, while reading A Canticle for Leibowitz I had to look up quite a few words, especially those that had to do with Catholicism. Then came Easter with its passion plays and requiems, and I realised that while those words are familiar to me, I don't actually know what they mean. So here goes: words for spiritual songs.

Let's start with an easy one: hymn.  Meaning "religious song," it comes to us from French ymne, from Latin hymnus "song of praise", from Greek hymnos "song to praise the gods or heroes." It might be a variant of hymenaios ,"wedding song," from the greek god of marriage, Hymen.

What about canticle then? It comes from Latin canticulum "short hymn," diminutive of canticum "song," so "little song"?

Requiem is one of those beautiful words that make you shiver a bit, even if you don't know what it means. It comes from Latin requiem, from requies, "rest," from re- "again, once more" + quies "quiet. It's the first word of the Latin Mass for the Dead.

Passion, as in St. Matthew Passion for example, is easy to understand. It refers to Christ's suffering on the cross in this context, and comes from Old French passion, "Christ's passion, physical suffering," from Latin passionem "suffering, enduring." The usage of "strong emotion, desire" is only from the 14th century, from Late Latin rendering of the Greek pathos as passio. Strange how far the modern usage is from the root of the word. Or is passion always suffering?

That's all for this week. Go think deep, dark thoughts about the nature of the universe now.

Sources:
http://www.etymonline.com

Science Fiction Classics: A Canticle for Leibowitz by Walter M. Miller Jr.

Image from wikipedia.org

A Canticle for Leibowitz, first published in 1960, is a post-apocalyptic novel telling the story of an order of monks (the Order of Leibowitz) trying to save what's left of mankind's scientific knowledge and history after a nuclear holocaust referred to as the "flame deluge." The book spans thousands of years, and has many viewpoint characters, which isn't surprising as it started out as three short stories.
The one character that connects the stories is the Wandering Jew, cursed to walk the earth until the second coming.

Canticle won the Hugo award for best novel in 1961. It's the only novel Miller published in his lifetime. The sequel, Saint Leibowitz and the Wild Horse Woman, was left unfinished. Author Terry Bisson finished it after Miller's suicide in 1996. It received mixed reviews.    

Oh yeah, spoilers ahead, in case you haven't read the novel.

I liked this book a lot. The writing is clear (except for the Latin bits) and flows well, the world-building is detailed and believable, and the characters relatable. I loved the idea of "booklegging," monks smuggling books and burying them in the desert for better days while the angry masses lynched the leaders and the scientists and burned all the books so nuclear war could never happen again, launching the world into another dark age. Humanity's rise from the darkness is well described, and the parallel to the knowledge of antiquity being lost and how the monks in medieval times toiled to preserve it is clear. It makes you think: is this a cycle humanity is caught in? Is there hope of escape, or will we continue the cycle of destruction and rebuilding over and over again?

I'm a bit tired of the dystopia fad that's been going on for years now. I get where it comes from: the future is grim, we're destroying the planet, and we'll probably all die horribly of nuclear war/an unforeseen epidemic/global warming. War rages, refugees pour into Europe, and there's a new killer virus found every year. Some days it feels like we're just waiting for the inevitable.

Miller fought in World War II and then lived under the shadow of the Cold War, and that influenced the kind of book he wrote, just like the state of the world today influences modern writers. The difference to modern dystopias is that Canticle has moments of humour and hope, something to brighten the darkness (I especially liked the bit about the electric light in the library of the monastery). Even the ending, which is quite grim in its way, has a bit of hope mixed in there. The characters in Miller's world are seeking ways to make the world better, not only wallowing in despair or trying to survive.

There is one thing that stuck out to me: there are very few women in the book, and they're minor characters at best. Okay, the story takes place in a monastery, so that is a legitimate reason for having mostly male characters. And the book was written in 1960, so one can't judge it by modern standards. All the same, a few female characters would have been nice.

Miller was a religious man, and it shows in the book, but at no point does it become preachy. He handles moral dilemmas with a delicate hand, letting the characters act as they see fit. On the subject of euthanasia, for example, the monk and the doctor both believe they're doing the right thing, and the reader is left to make her own conclusions. The symbolism and themes are there, but they're never heavy-handed.

 Dystopia is a tool to point out the flaws in the world, but there are many ways of doing that. I feel Canticle ends with a message of hope, even if mankind is doomed to repeat its mistakes.

This book has aged well and feels very relevant in today's political climate. If you haven't read Canticle yet, I highly recommend it.

Science fiction classics read: 38/193.

Bunny Buns and Easter Fun

                              

I hope you're all enjoying the Easter holidays. I certainly am. We had guests over so I managed to do some Easter baking, too. These macaroons are stuffed with white chocolate and I piped the little chick faces on with coloured icing. (And no, I didn't make the macaroon shells from scratch. Macaroons are impossible. Sometimes they turn out fine, but 90 % of the time I manage to screw them up: they bubble into huge flying saucers in the oven, fall flat, or break when I try to detach them from the baking sheet. Give yourself a break and buy the shells. Or even buy ready-made macaroons, pipe on the decorations, and accept all compliments graciously. No one has to know.)

I also saw the cutest bunny buns online, and wanted to try them. Apparently they're Japanese steamed buns with a sweet filling. After some googling I found a recipe for the dough, and as I have no idea where I could find azuki beans for the filling, I made a sweet coconut paste.

Here's a work-in-progress shot. You make the dumpling, flip it over, cut the ears with scissors, and use the chopstick to make the eyes. I also used the flat of the chopstick to press on the ear flap for a more three-dimensional look. 

                          

                                      You can see the detail a bit better here. 

                     Unfortunately, the steaming part didn't go so well. Here's the result: 

I don't have a bamboo steamer, so I don't know if that was the problem. I decided to slather the rest with egg wash and stick them in the oven. 

I think these look a bit better. The dough was a bit tasteless, but it held its shape well. I might try make savoury ones next time. 

                            

Here are my back-up bunny buns, made with a tried-and-true recipe. Not as cute, but tasted better. 

                             

                                          Here they are at the coffee table.

                              

                I also attended a board-game night with friends. Kingsburg was super fun!

Image from Wikipedia.org

                                           

I was supposed to get some writing done, but I spent most of yesterday in my pyjamas reading The Wise Man's Fear by Patrick Rothfuss. Very addictive. I can't remember when I last enjoyed a book this much. The first book of the series, The Name of the Wind, came out years ago, and I actually started reading it. I got about a hundred pages in and still didn't like it, so I stopped reading. Over the years so many people have recommended the book to me that I finally decided to give it another chance. For the first book, it took me to about 60% before I started enjoying it, but the second one is great from the get-go.

It's strange. Usually, if I don't like a book after a few hundred pages, I rarely change my mind. I'm glad I gave The Name of the Wind another chance. I love the story world and all the detail, the characters are (mostly) fun, and above all, I love Kvothe. I know a lot of people are complaining that he's a Mary Sue type character, and he does have many unlikely skills, but it didn't bother me. And I don't think anyone can say that Rothfuss goes easy on him. Nope, Kvothe gets a pretty raw deal. Especially in the second book, Rothfuss' writing is so easy to read and unpretentious that it's very easy to slip into Kvothe's head and live the story. I think it also helps that Kvothe always has a clear, tangible goal, so it doesn't feel like nothing is happening, even in the slower parts. Rothfuss makes everything seem interesting and exciting, and the exposition rarely feels exposition-y.

                            So, have a great weekend. I'm going to curl up with Kvothe now.

                  

Happy Easter!

                                 

Etymology Expeditions: Words for Frustration

I can't even count how many times I wanted to throw Ulysses at the wall. Reading it, you will be frustrated in a thousand different ways. So, in honour of Joyce, here we go: words for frustration.

The word frustration is from the 1550s (I guess people back then had plenty to be frustrated about). It comes from Latin frustrationem "a deception, a disappointment."

Exasperation is from the same time, the 1540s, and the word comes from Late Latin exasperationem, from exasperare "roughen, irritate."

Vexation comes from Latin vexationem "annoyance, harassing, distress, trouble," from vexare "harass, trouble."

Aggravation has its roots in Late Latin aggravationem, from aggravare "to make heavier."

Irritation comes from Latin irritationem "irritation, wrath, stimulus, anger," from irritare "to excite, provoke."

All this leads to dissatisfaction, from dis "lack of" + Latin satisfactionem "a satisfying of a creditor."

And then comes depression, from Latin depressionem, from deprimere "to press down, depress."

But if you're lucky, you might end up in a place of calm acceptance, from ad "to" + capere "take." So acceptance is to take what's offered. That's all you can do, really.