Reading Lesson 8 in Holly’s course, and I have to read The Silver Door! It’s book 2 in her new YA series Moon & Sun, and if you haven’t read The Ruby Key yet, you really should (see my review). No, really, I insist. It’s not just a fantastically beautiful cover; it’s a thrilling adventure fantasy as well! Anyway, Holly is using her original plot cards for an example of her plot card dissection technique, and even knowing that the story must have changed significantly from these planned scenes, I’m getting more and more stoked about The Silver Door. Come on, Amazon! Put it up for pre-order!

I’m working on my Scenes Pre-Plan Module for How to Think Sideways. It’s the second-to-last pre-planning module, and boy, have these modules been rigorous to work through. I have plenty of scene ideas now though, and I’m hoping to get caught up by tonight (which will take some serious effort). I’ll be honest and admit I’m not really sure that’s even possible; I haven’t read the Lesson 9 material yet and don’t know what it involves. Lesson 8 though, which I am fast approaching, is all about planning scenes. Finally! My novel will soon be ready to write!

I’ve also been reading Ellen Kushner’s Thomas the Rhymer, and it’s doing a good job keeping me up late at night, turning pages.

Today’s Booking Through Thursday:

Autumn is starting (here in the US, anyway), and kids are heading back to school–does the changing season change your reading habits? Less time? More? Are you just in the mood for different kinds of books than you were over the summer?

I think I read more, probably because it gets dark earlier, though in a way that doesn’t make sense. It’s not like I’m outdoors all time during the summer enjoying the daylight hours, or am at a technological level that requires living by the sun (I do have electricity even here at the Lake), but there’s just something about the cooler temperatures and grey light that makes me want to get under a blanket with a good book and a cup of tea (well, I do keep my head above the blanket when I’ve got tea, and the light sort of helps with the reading).

My reading habits don’t change much, although I think my attention span for fiction may increase with the onset of Autumn. In the summer I lean slightly more to books about things like French lifestyle or how to finally stay on top of laundry. I’m getting there . . .

Red Moon and Black Mountain is the first book on my Mythopoeic Award Challenge list, and one of the earliest winners of the award. In fact, “Winner of the Aslan Award for Best Fantasy” is blazoned on the hypnotically intricate ’70s cover of my copy. The book has most of the qualities I love in a High Fantasy: Developed cultures, an elf-like race of near-immortals (as well as actual elves), secret love and repeated motifs heavy with symbolism (swans, red moons and star-magic abound), all written by a British author. I can’t help wondering why I disliked it so much.

Three British school-children, Oliver Powell and his younger siblings, Nicholas and Penelope, are transported to Kedrinh where they are fated to play a role in an upcoming war against Fendarl, a Black Enchanter who has twisted his inherited Star-Magic for evil gain. Oliver finds himself living with the Hurnei, a nomadic plains tribe, while unbeknownst to him, his brother and sister have been sent to Black Mountain, where the Harani, a race of “Star-Born” nobles bring them under their protection.

The story is derivative of both Tolkien and Lewis, that’s certain, but that didn’t bother me. To be honest, I probably haven’t read enough of the so-called “derivative” stuff to be tired of it yet. Oddly, any time my heart got that thrill of excited recognition, I would think, “Here we go! It’s going to get interesting now!” only to be looking for the chapter’s end a couple of paragraphs later. The narrative seems to have more than the normal amount of “tell, don’t show” description that is common in older fantasies, but maybe it only felt that way.

Nothing unexpected happens in this novel, and I suppose at it’s core that’s why I was bored. Not only were there no unexpected plot twists (which I like but don’t thrive on), none of the characters ever said anything unexpected or even interesting. Lords spake loftily, plainsmen spoke in a sort of stilted English that barely evoked the feeling of a living culture, children spoke politely but charmingly. The book’s “eccentric” character (there has to be one, right?), the Borderer, annoyed me with his vague remarks that hinted at hidden meanings I felt didn’t really exist. Unlike Tom Bombadil, who seems to have some mysterious purpose in Middle Earth, the Borderer seemed to be having a laugh at Nicholas’s expense (and the reader’s, perhaps?) I had to imagine him as John Rhys Davies to like him even a little. He showed up, was precious, and was gone.

There are some beautiful passages in the book, however.

And so Nicholas was the first to reach the White City. Just after dawn on the second day they sighted her, crowning the cliffs, catching the light of the young sun, with clouds flying like banners of grey and gold above her. There were sea-swans rising from the waves and beating in before them, and the white water curved back and the white towers shone, and he came at last to the fortress of Emneron the White, city of the Kirontin of old; the Pearl of the North, H’ara Tunij of the Sea Kings.

Also, the addition of a plains culture was an unusual touch, although imperfectly executed, and the incongruous timelines, with Oliver becoming a man on the plains while his brother and sister seemed to have only been in Kedrinh a few weeks, added complexity and depth of feeling to the tale. Unfortunately, about half the people and place names (in both timelines) began with a “k” or an “h”. There were tons of names mentioned, more even than is usual for this type of novel, referring to people and places of varying importance to the plot, which made the story difficult to follow.

The romantic subplot seemed tossed in for good measure, and sadly, since I couldn’t find Princess In’serrina’s love interest remotely attractive, it only served to disappoint me.

His straight black hair grew out from the crown of his head over his brows. His dark eyes slanted, his cheek-bones were high, his nose was low-bridged, and his mouth unsmiling under a curving moustache.

Okay . . . you lost me at “moustache”. I kept trying to picture Kevin Kline, who is the only moustachioed actor I find remotely appealing, but ended up picturing this guy from Atlantis instead:

Not somebody I can really go nuts over, no. Anyway, this is the first time that I can recall actually skimming through boring parts of a book. I stayed up until 3 AM to finish it because I knew if I didn’t I’d be reading it for two more weeks. The end dragged on and on until I was sighing in aggravation, and the second-to-last chapter, wherein Oliver takes part in an earth-goddess ritual, not only felt bizarrely tacked-on, but seemed better suited to Weird Tales than a High Fantasy novel.

One review I read at SFFWorld.com states, “Red Moon and Black Mountain is perhaps the richest, most thoroughly realized, creation of another world that I have ever read. Not Tolkien, not C. S. Lewis, not Peter Beagle, not Robert Heinlein, has surpassed Chant’s depth of creation.” To which I reply, “Huh? What are you on?” Maybe I’d like the book more if I’d read it in the ’70s or something, but I doubt it. Totally aside from how much cultural detail was thrown at the reader—most of which seemed to have nothing substantial behind it—without Tolkien’s epic voice or Lewis’s dry wit (or any humour at all) I’m afraid this book does not withstand the test of time.

I’m halfway through the How to Think Sideways Lesson Seven modules. Lesson Seven is all pre-plotting, that is, preliminary work before outlining, and focuses on planning only what is crucial to the story.

It’s going very well. I did three character profiles: one each for the protagonist, antagonist and love interest. While reading the forums, I saw some people saying their protagonist and antagonist used different handwriting, and I rolled my eyes. When I actually sat down to fill out my profiles . . . boy, did I get enlightened.

My protagonist, Elaisse, turned out to have much more backbone than I’d thought, which is a relief. Heroines are always my weak area; I don’t know why, but I think maybe I tend to identify too closely with them and then they turn out generic. Anyway, Elaisse has some very clear opinions about her situation that are very rooted in her times; I don’t have to worry that she’ll turn out to be either a damsel-in-distress or an anachronistic bluestocking.

When I started my antagonist’s profile, he immediately demanded I write in cursive. I feel stupid admitting it, but it’s true: I really couldn’t imagine writing his profile in my regular joined-up printing. It wouldn’t do. I had to write in cursive, even though I loathe cursive with righteous loathing. So I gave in on that point, and realized to my embarassment that I’d done a “silly writer thing”: letting my characters “decide” stuff on their own. Anyway, I like my villain a lot. Almost too much. I musn’t let myself go easy on him.

The love interest, Renaut, surprised me even more. When I put pen to paper, I expected to print again, but instead, this fellow demanded to write in cursive as well, only in a tiny, scrunched-up, reticent little script. Whereas my other two characters had filled out the essay blanks nicely for most questions, he kept his answers to one or two short sentences. I kept trying to get him to say more, but it felt wrong every time, and my Muse would clam up until I moved to the next sentence. I realized what was happening and thought, “No, you wouldn’t talk much, would you?” So I stopped trying to force confessions out of him.

Yes, all this is “silly writer talk”. Once upon a time I swore I’d never talk about my characters as if they were real people with free will, or personify my Muse, or any of that airy-fairy stuff. This is what I get for swearing.

The modules seem to be working very well. I’m getting all the basic info I need to start my novel—and no more—without giving myself headaches. I need to poke around and see if I can find decent maps of a castle living quarters to base my map on, do a little culture-building for my elves, and then I’ll be ready to start scene planning! Huzzah!