It's a journey, to reach that place where the characters tell you who they need to be. But oh, what a trip! (I'm about halfway through The Silent City now, and we just met the Sestris. I'm taking my time with your old tale, it's one to savor in sips. Some writers write thin brews for chugging, yours is more of an aperitif.)
Mr. Mongoose, in case no one's ever mentioned it, you should have a LOT more than fifty followers, which is the last figure I saw for you. You do good work, and I read you right after Professor Richardson with my morning coffee. Thanks!
James Nichols probably intended his commentary on the English language to be a joke "The problem with defending the purity of the English language is that English is about as pure as a cribhouse whore. We don't just borrow words; on occasion, English has pursued other languages down alleyways to beat them unconscious and rifle their pockets for new vocabulary." And for an English speaker it probably is.
But for a Canadian First Nation that had its language murdered with malice aforethought in Residential schools, or an Acadian, or someone trying to rescue Gaelic from the outbox of history, suspect that quote lands very, very differently.
Oh, I envy you. I am not through yet. My Aisling(s) are still in a drawer (well, a virtual one, but nevertheless).
It's a journey, to reach that place where the characters tell you who they need to be. But oh, what a trip! (I'm about halfway through The Silent City now, and we just met the Sestris. I'm taking my time with your old tale, it's one to savor in sips. Some writers write thin brews for chugging, yours is more of an aperitif.)
Mr. Mongoose, in case no one's ever mentioned it, you should have a LOT more than fifty followers, which is the last figure I saw for you. You do good work, and I read you right after Professor Richardson with my morning coffee. Thanks!
Thank you! We’re over 200 now, and I value all of you. I read HCR almost every morning, too.
Blessed Beltaine.
We're officially in the sunny half, now. Bealltainn beannaichte dhut. (Blessed Beltaine to you.)
May your fires be bright.
Good luck with the story.
And with the greater project too!
James Nichols probably intended his commentary on the English language to be a joke "The problem with defending the purity of the English language is that English is about as pure as a cribhouse whore. We don't just borrow words; on occasion, English has pursued other languages down alleyways to beat them unconscious and rifle their pockets for new vocabulary." And for an English speaker it probably is.
But for a Canadian First Nation that had its language murdered with malice aforethought in Residential schools, or an Acadian, or someone trying to rescue Gaelic from the outbox of history, suspect that quote lands very, very differently.
Yeah. Linguistic imperialism has a lot to answer for. I'll tell Aisling you said hi!
I'll fill your pan, love. Until we both walk the Crow Road.
That was wonderful. You are the most French Scottish man I know. Well you and Mr Hill. 💕