Today I Have Mostly Been Reading...

One of my best friends, Anna, sent me this book for my birthday, with a note inside which read, 'This book always reminds me of you. Enjoy! =)' That's enough to get anyone curious, coupled with the fact that Anna's recommendations are usually good and you really can't go wrong with Charles de Lint.

I have never read a book so slowly in my life. It was next on my list after Eminem, but I picked up 'Passage' to see what Pixie had sent me and got sucked in. In a way, I'm glad that happened. I needed 'Passage' to bridge the gap (yes, read that on a huge level, not just content) between Eminem and 'The Onion Girl'. Then there was the utter exhaustion in the week before Vegas, then two weeks of Vegas, then the exhaustion of the week after Vegas. This has all meant that I've read this book in bite-sized portions, when normally I'd have gobbled it up. Except for the couple of days at the beginning and the end, when I did gobble it up.

How I read 'The Onion Girl' was exactly right. The bite-sized portions had me begging for more, but gave me a lot of time to think on what I'd just read. I'd be packing for my holiday or being waxed and I was thinking about Jilly and Raylene. More specifically, I was thinking about me, through the eyes of Anna, through the eyes of me. There are a lot of hard lessons to be had between the lines of 'The Onion Girl', but good ones. I needed to learn them.

I don't know whether it was the story itself - the magic and the crossing of the Veil - which reminded Anna of me; or if she saw me in Jilly... If she did, I'd say it was a great complement and I paid it to myself too. I suppose anyone reading would see themselves in Jilly. She's protagonist, so you're supposed to, but I saw more of myself in Jilly than I usually do in a protagonist. Then again, I saw a lot of myself in Raylene. It's not even a matter of dark and light, because both of them had elements of both in them, though the scales were tipped slightly one way or another.

I just now finished the book and I sat there on my bed for a long time, thinking. The story reminded me that stories are important; and that we need to be storied. ('No live organism can exist sanely in conditions of absolute reality.' 'The Haunting of Hill House' Shirley Jackson) I've had nine and a half days of absolute reality, other than this book, and it reminded me to look for the magic in the world around me. Even when I had a conference to organize; even when I was pointing another young Pagan towards decent reading material; even when I was racing against the clock to rescue a friend; even when I was making hard decisions. Vegas seems a long dream away now, but there's still magic in the world.

I've always seen the fairies in the junkyards, flying around the sleeping tramps; I've always seen the Otherworld in a disused quarry and magic in the wastegrounds. Anna's right. That is a gift.

I learned too about second chances and, for the briefest moment, was fully ready to hunt down and write to or e-mail all those people who did my head in in the past. I still might. I have a twig they could use. It's sometimes hard to know if you learned the right lessons from the cards that Fate handed you; then you suss that it doesn't matter. You learned the right lessons, whatever they were, and the hurt inside does have to be healed before you can heal anything else.

Sometimes I forget that it's all a story (or, as Eric puts it, a game). But the powerful play does go on and you may contribute a verse. Always.

Thank you for reminding me of the things I should never have forgotten, Anna fach.