In Which An Account Is Made...

... of Soaring Soprano's Reading List.

So, now it is Day Two of AugBlogWriMo... and already I'm out of topics. Okay, well maybe that's an exaggeration. I do have things to blog about, but some of them are borderline on complaining, and if there is anything I don't want this blog to become it's that- an online outlet for my (oftentimes ridiculous) frustrations. As it is, complaining is hardly a good habit to get into, because it usually indicates that we're not accepting the crosses that we've been given as our means to sanctity. As the wonderful Jean-Pierre de Caussade points out in Abandonment to Divine Providence,

"...to attain the utmost height of perfection, the safest and surest way is to accept the crosses sent [them] by Providence at every moment, that the true philosopher's stone is submission to the will of God which changes into divine gold all [their] occupations, troubles, and sufferings..."

But despite this lovely bit of spiritual reading, I do still have the tendency to complain... but I'm determined not to do it here. When speaking with friends, however, things get a bit trickier, as evidenced by a conversation I had with a good friend of mine earlier this evening.

"I don't know what to write about..." I sighed via GoogleChat. (My friend lives on the other side of the pond [Scotland to be exact, and by virtue of this he will gain the appropriate, although hardly original, nickname of Scot for the purposes of this blog], and so Google has become the most convenient and inexpensive forum for our conversations.)

Anyway, I sighed, to which Scot very kindly replied that he was sure I'd find something. "You always seem to cover your bases," he said and despite the distance I could hear the confidence in that statement, for which I was grateful. (Sometimes GoogleChat is invaluable for increasing your self-esteem...)

So, I promptly started wracking my brain for ideas. I almost decided to do a bit of blogging about Husband, who was trying to eat an artichoke for the first time without knowing what he was about. It was quite hilarious to watch him actually, but I hid my snorts of stifled laughter behind the screen of my netbook. No, no extensive blogging about Husband today... it wouldn't be charitable, even if he was laughing about it too.

I went back to the drawing board again for about another thirty minutes or so... And then I had a scathingly brilliant idea and started collecting the necessary materials...

At which point in time, Scot pinged me again on GoogleChat. "How's it going?" he asked.

I bit my lip. "Okaaayyy..." (Oh, yes. I was going to be mysterious and hesitant.)

"What does that mean?" (Hee hee, I could feel the tension already getting to him.)

"It means," I replied, baiting the hook, "that I'm doing research..." (I couldn't help smirking to myself at this point. Scot is a very academic type of guy, into reading ancient manuscripts written in obscure languages and stuff, so research is like... well, I'm not sure what it's like, but it's pretty awesome.)

"NOW I'm intrigued!" he exclaimed, grinning. (And yes, I know he was grinning; one, because he's Scot and two, because he typed it. In bold font actually, like this: grins)

So, amidst all this intrigue, I really did discover what I meant to write about tonight, and I promise I'm getting to it. And, wait for it... here it comes...

SoaringSoprano's Reading List

I've always got a bunch of books that I read simultaneously, and so my idea is to blog a bit about what I'm reading. It'll help give me stuff to blog about for the next month, and maybe I'll even finish a few of them by the time September rolls around.


1. I've already mentioned Book #1, which is actually my *coughdailycough* spiritual reading: Abandonment to Divine Providence by Jean-Pierre de Caussade. My parish priest had recommended it to me when he learned that I had enjoyed Conformity to God's Will by St. Alphonsus Liguiori. Both are full of fantastic little bits that you can mull over all day... which is the whole point of spiritual reading, I suppose.

2. Trianon by Elena Marie Vidal. Now, this is a fantastic little gem. It's an account of the events leading up to the French Revolution, centered, of course, on Queen Marie Antoinette. The refreshing part is that the story has been carefully researched and for a change we can see the life of the Queen and her husband, King Louis XVI, from a truly Catholic perspective. And what a perspective! Nowhere are their faults excused or the mistakes that were made glossed over. Rather, they are addressed honestly and straightforwardly, but through the light of grace and Catholicism.

This is probably my fourth time reading the historical novel, and I love it even more every time I read it. Last night I got through the Prologue and Chapter One. What's interesting is that Vidal changes the point-of-view every chapter, giving a multi-faceted view of the Royal couple. The Prologue is from the perspective of Madame Elisabeth Vigée-Lebrun, who was the portrait painter of Marie-Antoinette, while Chapter One is from the viewpoint of Madame Louise of France (Louis XVI's aunt), who was also known as Mother Thérése of St. Augustine.

Each of these characters reveal interesting little pieces of information: Vigée-Lebrun muses about the change in the Queen over the years, how her eyes changed from being "large, bright and expressionless" to having "a warmth, a light, a genuine amiability," which the young painter attributes to the Queen's love and approaching motherhood.

Madame Louise prays for her nephew and his bride, contemplating the difficulties the couple are facing. She remembers how her heart went out to the pair when Louis XV died, and the twenty-year-olds fell to their knees, weeping, and begging God to save them because they were too young to reign. And still, thirteen years later, Madame Louise knows they are still scared and beset with troubles and decides to send them brown scapulars and Sacred Heart badges, knowing of the Royal couple's devotion.

3. Okay, well, I need a little segue before revealing the last book, which will come in the form of more dialogue between Scot and I, since it is more than fitting. (Honestly, the double meaning here was intentional... but he didn't know that.)

"I want to work out what you're doing!" Scot says, grinning again. (Oh yeah, the research bit really got to him... go me!)

I laughed. "I'm glad your curiosity is piqued..." I replied, smiling mysteriously.

He grins again. "So am I..." (Aww, how cute! But now, for the set-up...)

I laughed again. "You may be disappointed however..." (Oh, I'm clever...)

Scot shoots me a wry smirk. "I rarely am." (Well, I'll admit it. I giggled at that.)

"Well, don't get your hopes up too high..." I warned. (I was grinning like a Cheshire cat by this point.)

And I really meant it... because you do know what they say about Great Expectations, after all... (I'm so witty sometimes...)

So yes, Book #3 is Charles Dickens' Great Expectations. I've never read the book before. I've only seen the film adaptation with Ioan Gruffudd and Justine Waddell, which I enjoyed, despite the very Dickensian weirdness in places. So, I'm going to tackle the novel finally and see if I can't get my head around it.

I read the first two chapters today, and I must say, for all the complaining I did about Dickens and his descriptions while in High School, I'm really enjoying them now. He's not just describing stuff for the sake of filling up page space. His descriptions manage to lend flavour to the scenery and insight into the characters. My favourite by far is Pip's description of his sister, Mrs. Joe:

"My sister, Mrs. Joe, with black hair and eyes, had such a prevailing redness of skin that I sometimes used to wonder whether it was possible she washed herself with a nutmeg-grater instead of soap. She was tall and bony, and almost always wore a coarse apron, fastened over her figure behind with two loops, and having a square impregnable bib in front that was stuck full of pins and needles."

 In one short paragraph, Pip establishes for the reader that his sister is not a very refined woman. She's rough and ready, and the pins and needles in her apron very subtly set up the sharpness and prickliness of  her personality. Mrs. Joe certainly isn't a very lovable person, at all...

I couldn't help laughing at Pip's descriptions of things either, as his voice seems so fully to have captured that of a young boy. The narration aptly puts you into the world of this young boy and the uncomfortableness with the circumstances he's found himself in. The best bit, in my opinion, is the relationship between Joe and Pip, the silent camaraderie of two men who both suffer under the iron rule of Mrs. Joe. It's just priceless and an honest picture of human interaction.

And I think that it's time for me to end this very long blog post. Honestly, I applaud anyone who actually read it all the way to this point...

Here I had nothing to write and now I've got a post a million pages long! Oh, the irony...