Of all the striking details in March Book One — and there are more than a few — the one that I keep coming back to is this: As a boy, John Lewis would preach to his family's chickens.
Lewis, an organizer of the March on Washington in 1963 and since 1987 the United States Representative for Georgia's Fifth District, is a great storyteller. March is a great story. I've just left those sentences alone after too much time spent considering adjectives other than "great" due to how easy and vernacular the word is, as well as how many dimensions it has, but those qualities actually make it the perfect word.
Short version of this post: The Kickstarter campaign for Dean Trippe's Something Terrible has one week left. Go pledge and be a part of it!
I'm upset that I neglected to include Terrible on my entry in Forces of Geek's
Best of 2013 survey, especially because I first learned of the book from old pal and FOG grand poobah Stefan Blitz. Trippe has created a heartfelt, inspiring, beautifully executed work drawn (quite literally) from his experiences of childhood sexual abuse. Dark as the short, 14-page story is — about kids, for anyone who has ever been a kid, but not for kids themselves — it brightens as Trippe finds strength in Batman and other fictional heroes, unfolding mostly in sharp, haunting two-color panels.
I was thinking recently about my school library in 3rd grade.
Not sure why. It might've been because of the recent news reports on libraries
without books — without physical books, anyway; rather, they're community spaces with computers where users can surf the Internet and check out E-books. Something, maybe those reports, got me remembering how I'd settle down in the stacks in front of the encyclopedias and basically use the references in the article at hand the way we use hyperlinks online today.
I have a bunch of great memories, general and specific, of libraries. Most readers do, I'd wager. I've shared some on the blog before, including memories of this particular library — nestled in a post on the TV series Supernatural — about my favorite aisle. What brought me to that aisle was books on Greek and Roman mythology, a subject about which I read voraciously and to an almost literally exhausting degree; based on periodic scans of various library and bookstore shelves, I may well have gone through every relevant volume in print at the time. Some books were, from my youthful perspective at least, stuffier than others, a category in which I preferred Edith Hamilton's Mythology to Bulfinch's. There were plenty of slim paperbacks and large, illustrated tomes aimed more directly at my age, too, with D'Aulaires' Book of Greek Myths atop the heap of the latter.