When writers get asked who they were inspired by there are a few elite names that always make the list: Shakespeare and Austen come to mind, and Conan Doyle, Dickens and Kipling often make appearances. If the writer in question is in the field of Science Fiction and/or Fantasy (and lets face it, those genres are practically Siamese Twins) they will often drop names like Tolkien, Lewis, LeGuin or, going further back, Wells, Verne or Lovecraft.

Which is all very well and good, and far be it for me to dare impinge upon the cultural impact the owners of the above names have had on the world. But I must point out that the fact that the name of a certain Diana Wynne Jones is not grouped with them has to be a cosmic injustice. For Jones, who has been writing outstanding fantasy for readers of all ages for the better part of forty years, must have, collected within her multitude of works, as many ideas, visions, dreams and stories as all her peers. Put together.

So, in an effort to promote awareness of this author, and since I believe books are there to be read, I am holding the Reading Jones Project of 2009.



For each month of the year I will select one of Jone's books, and supply information about where and how to get it right here. I'm not going to tell you much about the book though, because that would defeat the next part: I am going to read it. You can read it too, if you like, and I recommend you do: Jones's books are fantastic, and besides; I'll be posting a detailed and spoilerific review of the book in question at the end of each month. If you read the book, you can post your own review and send me the link. Or you could read the book and not post a review. Or you could not read the book. But then you would be missing out on a great deal of fun.



The Pinhoe Egg
© 2006 Diana Wynne Jones
ISBN: 978-0-06-113124-0

At long last we come to the end of the year, and with the year's end, so comes the final installment in the Reading Jones Project. For this auspicious moment I decided I should probably give the feature to one of Jones's most beloved creations, the Chrestomanci novels. There are six of these excellent novels to choose from (and one collection of short stories), and in the end I settled on the last in the series. I know this may sound backwards, but in fact, when it comes to the extraordinary worlds of Chrestomanci, the end makes an excellent place to start.

Which is to say, that's just a lengthy way of saying that this month's book is The Pinhoe Egg. There is so much I can say about this book it leaves me speechless. It is about magic, it was about change, it is about horses and griffins and unicorns and dwimmer. Whatever that is. It is set in the world of Chrestomanci (the Christopher Chant Chrestomanci, which is the one everyone cares about) and as with all the other books is made a brighter and more exciting read for his presence. If you have not yet had the pleasure of meeting Chrestomanci, let me just say you are in for a treat.

Further Reading:
There are six other novels featuring the Nine-Lifed Enchanter Chrestomanci, all of them equally magical and marvelous. Indeed, I could have picked any one of them and it would have made a fitting crescendo for this project. They span many years and worlds, and were written in a different order than the events in them took place. Because of this the reader is faced with the choice of reading them in the order they took place, and the order in which they were published. I recommend the latter, and have listed them in the order of publication, but I have numbered them according to the order in which the events they contain took place. Or you could do what I did and read them in a random order. They are:

Charmed Life (3)
The Magicians of Caprona (4/5)
Witch Week (5/4) (As near I can tell, these could take place in either order after the events in Charmed Life. )
The Lives of Christopher Chant (1)
Conrad's Fate (2)
The Pinhoe Egg (6)
There is also the Mixed Magics book, which is a collection of short stories spanning the length of the series. In general, I would recommend reading it after one has read the original four, but before reading The Pinhoe Egg, but it doesn't really matter.

About the Writer Jones:
Her Wikipedia Article
Her Official Website

Books in the RJP:
JANUARY: Howl's Moving Castle [REVIEW]
FEBRUARY: Eight Days of Luke [REVIEW]
MARCH: Aunt Maria [REVIEW]
APRIL: Hexwood [REVIEW]
MAY: The Spellcoats [REVIEW]
JUNE: A Tale of Time City [REVIEW]
JULY: Archer's Goon [REVIEW]
AUGUST: The Merlin Conspiracy [REVIEW]
SEPTEMBER: Power of Three [REVIEW]
OCTOBER: The Time of the Ghost [REVIEW]
NOVEMBER: The Homeward Bounders [REVIEW]
DECEMBER: The Pinhoe Egg

~Rondie out.

The Homeward Bounders
© 1981 Diana Wynne Jones
ISBN: 978-0-0602988-6-9

My brother and I have got into the habit of putting things in gamer’s terms. Not to the extent of seeing the world as a grid-based board on which the game of life is played, but we often find ourselves making quips like “Obama has a high Charisma stat,” or “ Palin must be an NPC, because she’s almost as bad as the Marines in Halo.” Only because we are geeks these tend to come out even more obscure. A real example would be; “Gosh, Kubo Tite really needs to start training Renji and Chad again, because Ichigo is seriously over-leveled.”

After re-reading The Homeward Bounders I wonder if thinking this way might be dangerous.

Let me explain: in The Homeward Bounders there is a group of beings called simply them who have managed to turn not only our world, but all the related worlds into a giant game of Dungeons & Dragons. Or rather, hundreds of giant games of Dungeons & Dragons. The story is told from the perspective of a seemingly-young boy named Jamie who, because he stumbled upon them and saw them at their game, is cast out of his world and out of the game to become a Homeward Bounder—someone bound to wander the worlds, unable to enter Play, until he finds his Home again. Only, as Jamie discovers, he is not entirely out of the Game, which is far older and more complicated than one first imagines. During his time as a Homeward Bounder he comes across others of his kind—some of them the reader may even recognize as characters from antiquity; The Flying Dutchman, the Wandering Jew, and one of… well, I won’t spoil it. Suffice to say if you know anything at all about Greek mythology you will probably recognize him in an instant. As the story progresses we learn that these outcasts—The Homeward Bounders—were created in order to keep the worlds they play with unreal and gamelike (it’s complicated, and has to do with Homes and reality and multiplying worlds and… just read the book, okay?) and are, in their own way, as powerful as them.

The Homeward Bounders makes you think. It tips things about and shakes the world up. In the great game of them Home is more than the place you’re from, hope is a bad thing to have, but rules can still be bent—and they can still serve to be the undoing of their makers. In this aspect it is a perfect example of a fantasy novel; something that makes you see the world from a slightly different angle, so you notice entirely new things about it. At the same time is has that wonderful quality not all fantasy novels have, of reaching out and grabbing the reader and making them think—if only for an instant—that perhaps this story, even with all its impossible things, really happened.

Perhaps that is what makes the ending so poignant. For I should warn you right now; Jamie never really gets Home. In the end, though they are defeated and the Game unofficially ended, Jamie has to stay a Homeward Bounder. As such he will age very slowly, while the rest of his friends will go Home, grow old, and eventually die. He has to do this in order to keep them out, he says, and tells us that this story is also to help do that; because if we read it and don’t believe it, that will help keep them out as well. It is all very solemn and self-sacrificing. But I have to wonder; so many impossible and unexpected things have happened to our hero, who is to say the rest of his life will go smoothly? Perhaps his friends will find a way to do something about his predicament. Besides, I’m fairly certainly the one of his friends won’t be dying any time soon. If you read the book, you’ll know which one I mean.

But you can see why if makes me feel uncomfortable taking about the Real World as a game, when for all I know they are still out there, trying to make it into one. Which is the haunting memento Homeward Bounders leaves us with; you will never be able to look at a game—any game—the same way again.

Further Reading:
If the world was a just and perfect place there would be no war. YouTube videos wouldn't start playing until they had loaded enough buffer to play from start to finish without pausing, and Homeward Bounders would have a sequel. Sadly, we do not live in this perfect world, and so there is nothing more to read. It doesn't stop one dreaming, though.

About the Writer Jones:
Her Wikipedia Article
Her Official Website

Books in the RJP:
JANUARY: Howl's Moving Castle [REVIEW]
FEBRUARY: Eight Days of Luke [REVIEW]
MARCH: Aunt Maria [REVIEW]
APRIL: Hexwood [REVIEW]
MAY: The Spellcoats [REVIEW]
JUNE: A Tale of Time City [REVIEW]
JULY: Archer's Goon [REVIEW]
AUGUST: The Merlin Conspiracy [REVIEW]
SEPTEMBER: Power of Three [REVIEW]
OCTOBER: The Time of the Ghost [REVIEW]
NOVEMBER: The Homeward Bounders
DECEMBER: The Pinhoe Egg

~Rondie out.

Trying to assemble the jumble of memories from the past two weeks into some form of coherent thought has proven rather more difficult that I anticipated. It is not only that it was a trip jam-packed with sensory in-put and first-time experiences, but it was looooong. But I can break it down into three distinct segments, and that is where I shall begin:

Part One: New York City

It was my first time in the Big Apple, and as a homely country girl who lives in a town with no stop lights, to say it was something of a culture shock would be an understatement. People, people EVERYWHERE! And CARS! And people out-numbering the cars! Which was wonderful in a particularly sadistic sort of way; that the pedestrians were so numerous that they could happily forge across four lanes of traffic on a red light with no fear of splattering. As someone who comes from a place where cars don't break for deer, much less humans, I found this beyond wonderful. Then there are the subways, which operate with such frequency and efficiency as to make the need of a car practically non-existent. Oh jubilant day!

Another wonderful this about NYC is the food; pick a little poky restaurant at random and you are likely to find food as good or better than any home-cooking. That, or you wander into some lavender-tinted, retro-styled funhouse, which was possibly the most entertaining dining experience I'd ever had. They had put covers from old vinyl records over their menus (my aunt, who was my traveling companion) ordered her meal from out of an old Sonny and Cher album, which strangely did not detract from her appetite.

But the main attraction had to be the shows. Now, I have been a fan of Avenue Q since I stumbled upon various low-quality YouTube videos of such classics as "If You Were Gay" and "The Internet is for Porn". I listen to the soundtrack regularly, so you can imagine what was on the top of my list of "things to see in NY." As it was, I very nearly missed my chance, since it closed on Broadway mere weeks before my trip, only to re-open Off-Broadway practically the next day. My trip was saved! And imagine my delight upon setting foot outside my hotel on the day of the show, and what should I find waiting for me but a pigeon, squashed on the street. I show it to my aunt; she said "eww." From then, I knew it would be a good day! The show was as awesome as I could have hoped, and as a fundraiser for Broadway Cares, Equity Fights Aids, they were offering audience members a chance to get their picture taken with one of the original stage puppets. -$20.00 later and I am now the proud owner of a polaroid of myself in danger of being eaten by Lucy the Slut. Good times.

Saturday night was my first proper Broadway experience, getting to walk down Times Square and everything, with the low-hanging clouds reflecting the neon light back upon itself until New York seemed to exist in its own private environment, where the cycle of the earth and the sun was non-existent. More than anything, it reminded me of B SciFi stories about people stuck on space colonies, where they live in perpetual night lit by neon warning signs. Only I bet they don't have entertainment like this in space: Chicago, The Lion King, Wicked, and Billy Elliot were all banners we passed on our way to see the Hollywood Star vehicle A Steady Rain, which starred James Bond and Wolverine. I'm sorry, it starred Daniel Craig and Hugh Jackman. A brit and an aussie as Chicago cops. And believe it or not, they were (both of them) good enough that I completely forgot where they were from until Mr. Jackman opened his mouth to begin his speech for Broadway Cares. Then the entire audience was doubled over laughing at the contrast for a minute or so.

The production of A Steady Rain ran a steeper deal than Avenue Q; two undershirts from that nights performance, worn by the actors, were eventually auctioned off for a donation of $10,000 each… to two young ladies in the first and second rows. In the end they got not only the shirts, but the chance to come back stage and have them "presented to them, personally, by the actors." As the lucky ladies were led away, Jackman mentioned, almost as an afterthought: "Oh, but if anyone else would like to come back stage and meet us, it'll only cost you $2,000!" Unfortunately, my aunt's infatuation for this man was not enough to sway her, though I did convince her to buy a signed playbill. We had fun later trying to guess who's autograph was who's.

On Sunday I was attacked by monsters. Six and eight-year-old monsters, to be exact, who inhabited the bodies of a little girl and boy respectively. I was sacrificed to them over breakfast, and was then obliged to cart them off to a matinee of Mary Poppins, which was possibly the most mind-boggling show I'd ever seen. It was held in the New Amsterdam Theatre, which had apparently been built by the same people who are responsible for all the fake grapes, flowers, and cherubs in the world. Leaves and branches were carved into the walls, the doorframes, the bannisters. It was hard to imagine the show being able to distract the audience (mostly under 10), but it did. Did it ever.

Firstly, the set moved. And when I say it moved, I mean it moved about like one of those Transformer robots, morphing from the front room of a house, the attic nursery, a rooftop chimney-scape, a city park and to (hey, why not?) a surreal, star-filled sky. And there were flying people. Mary Poppins, for her Grand Exit, not only flew up off the stage, but out, over the audience, up over the folks in the mezzanine, before finally disappearing into the darkness of the rafters. Not to be out-done, her male counter-part, Bert, got to walk up the side of the stage, Fred Astaire style, until he was standing up-side-down, being carted across the top of the stage some fifty feet above the rest of the actors on a little moving trolly. And then it hit center stage and stopped. And Bert turned to face the audience and tap-danced. And sang. Full out. Up-side-down, fifty feet in the air, with no safety net.

The magic wasn't ruined until I felt a tug on my sleeve and an eight-year-old demon whispered in a piercing whine, "I can see the wires!"

Nevertheless, it was a great show. And better still, they only asked for a donation of $150.00 to come backstage and meet the cast. Later, the little monsters complained that we did not get to meet the entire 42 members, but I didn't care. We got to me the lead children, Laura Michelle Kelly (Mary Poppins) and Mr. I-Tap-dance-and-sing-up-side-down-fifty-feet-over-the-stage Christian Borle (Bert). And I got him to sign my playbill free of charge.

The left one day (Monday) to spend hitting as many touristy attractions as possible, but we only ended up seeing the Statue of Liberty since it turned out that, along with the sights and the sounds and the marvelous food, I had also managed to absorb a rather persistent cough, which escalated into a head-ache, and eventually something much more annoying, which brings me to…

Part Two: Washington DC

We took the train from NYC to DC, which would have been a good deal more fun f I hadn't been sick. Indeed, it would have been more fun if I had just given up pretending that I wasn't sick and admitted I was sick. However, it was hard to deny my sickness when by the time we reached the relatives we were visiting in DC I could do little more than hobble into their apartment and collapse on their couch. Fortunately they are a dear old Jewish couple, which mean that, aside from taking excellent care of me, I got to indulge myself in their wonderful book collection. I am told I missed out on seeing our Nation's Capitol, the Washington Salute to Compensating for Something, and some rather fine museums. I didn't care, by this point it was Wednesday and I was bending my full mental powers into getting myself better in time to fly to Chicago for…

Part Three: Midwest FurFest

I was not entirely well. Not even my Grim Determination could banish whatever malady was afflicting me. Fortunately, I was able to bluff my condition well enough to let my aunt and elder relatives release me. Though the flight to Chicago nearly made my head explode. Just as well I did not opt for the alternative; taking a last-minute five hour flight to San Francisco. Indeed, just landing in the same general area as the con lifted my spirits, and they were lifted further upon being successfully reunited with *ArofaTamahn, who himself was in the process of recovering from a cold. So together we made out sniffling, snorting, sneezing, coughing way out of the airport, onto a shuttle, and eventually disembarked at the first overflow hotel for MFF. We stumbled into the lobby; cold, congested and tired, and nearly walked right into some…thing. It was big and green and furry and grinned at us, waving its arms and threatening to hug us. Then I remembered I was attending a fur con, and I spontaneously felt nearly all better. This feeling was compounded by excitement when after checking in I turned around to find Mr. Ranting Gryphon playing cards in the lobby.

Emphasis on nearly. As it turned out I was not entirely better, as I would learn to my chagrin.

Friday I convinced myself that I was well enough to go conning, and despite a lingering cough and a dribbly nose I contrived to have a marvelous time. Attended some fun panels, swung through the Dealer's Den, set up an Open Table in the Den and met some fellow FA-ers. Thanks to my splurging on a Sponsor membership, me and Roffie got prime seats for Kage and 2's shows, which were much fun as always, though the fact that at this point I could not laugh, but merely cough happily was a minor annoyance. All in all, a most enjoyable evening.

I should have left if there. Instead, I went to the Who's Lion is it Anyway? panel and spent the remainder of the night running around making an idiot of myself. I finally tottered up to my room at about 1:00 am (we were in the overflow hotel, about five minutes from the main con), exhausted and beginning to feel faint. But I was woken soon after by our next-door neighbors coming in a few hours later. In my half-sick, half-asleep state, one of them sounded distinctly like a certain gryphon of the ranting persuasion. But when I asked Brother about it he just told me to go to sleep.

Woke up on Saturday with a fever again, and this time did the right thing and stayed in bed, reading. Missed out on the Charity Auction and some other cool stuff, but by the evening I was feeling not only well, but better. You know the feeling when you are no longer sick and you know it, and I knew if I stayed in the room any longer I'd go nuts. So I gathered up all the remaining tissues and hiked over to the con in time to catch the Furry Variety Show and some dinner. That was to be all for the evening, but at the last minute it was announced that 2 and Kage would be hosting a last-minute for-charity show at 11:00 PM and… well…

2 is a funny guy. And Kage is a funny guy. But when you put them together they are a side-splitting team of awesome. So naturally I dragged my ass in and plunked it down in the front row and proceeded to laugh it off for the next two hours. By that point 2 and Kage were getting drunk and sleepy (respectively), and at the ripe hour of 1:00 AM I said my good-nights to Rona Dolvi and tried to leave.

Only you wouldn't believe how having 2 the Ranting Gryphon shouting at you over the mic to sit your ass back down and sketch will change your mind. They didn't let me go until I had shown said sketch around and everybody had laughed at it. I think they must have been all a little drunk.

Roffie and I finally stumbled back into our room at around 2:00, tired and happy. It was a nice room, with two beds and a door that would have opened onto an adjoining room, except that the door on the other side was also closed. I knew, because the first thing I did upon arriving was to open it up and check.

I had gotten to the point of kicking my shoes off when I heard voices in the hall. Very, very familiar voices. Not asleep, or sick this time, I ran to my outside door and through it open… to find 2 and his roommates standing in the hall.

I think we stood and gaped at each other for about a second, before I screamed "I knew it was you!" at the same time 2 said, "Wait—YOU'RE in this room? We're in the next room! Oh my god, that door is coming open NOW!"

Which was exactly what we did. With both room-to-room doors upon we could roam between his suite and our room, not to mention make use of each other's pillows and chairs. Oh yeah, and I got to hang with with 2 the Ranting Gryphon. Which was awesome. Beyond awesome, in fact. It was FABULOUS. I think the only thing that was missing was Jibba, who had stayed in Cali.

And that pretty much sums up the con for me: downside, sick for most of Saturday. Upside: I GOT TO HANG WITH 2!

On Sunday I felt fully recovered, and was all ready to make up for lost time, but 2 had other ideas. So instead I spent Sunday sitting next to him in the Artist's Alley. Which was actually great fun: we worked out some really neat deals for the lucky folks who came by that day, like my doing custom sketches on his DVD covers for five bucks. I also did some more traditional sketches, which was all I could manage with my equipment. All in all, great fun, and if YOU want a chance to buy a signed 2 Gryphon DVD with custom cover by your's truly, well—I have the vague notion that we might contrive to get side-by-side dealer's tables at AC next year. We'll see how the wind blows.

Being the fangirl that I am, I could just go on about 2 for ages, but I have to shout out to Waggs and the Roo, who were also awesome! *glomps en masse*

All in all it was a fun con for me, and I'll definitely try to make it back again next year—hopefully when I'm not sick!

Looking to the future, the next con possibility for teh Rondie will be Further Confursion in San Jose at the end of January, though I'm not 100% sure about that one yet. And of course you will most likely be seeing me at AnthroCon 2010, barring some calamity. After all, they have the Dinotopia guy as GOH. *drools*

Hope you're all well, and Happy Thanksgiving. This year, I am thankful for Awesome Coincidences and Adjoining Doors. *gringrin*

~Rondie out.

From Cali to NYC, to DC to Chicagoland, then back to Cali, via car, plane, taxi, subway, train, plane, van and plane respectively… I am home at last! A full report will be coming shortly, for now, the barest facts: It was a trip of firsts and thrills and surprises (pleasant and otherwise), and the greatest coincidence in the history of Fur Cons. However, the best surprise was waiting for me right here:



I love you guys, and I'll try to get back to you all in the next day or so!

~Rondie out.

Just a li'l update to let y'all know what I'll be up to in the coming weeks, as I won't have reliable access to the internet.

First, today I'm driving up north to my ~sugarauntie's place, and from there on Thursday we'll be flying to NYC for the weekend to catch some Broadway (and Off-Broadway) shows, see museums, and make funny short-short films. Then will's nip over to Washington DC to visit more museums—and relatives!—and from there I'm off to meet *ArofaTamahn at the Midwest FurFest.

Anyone wishing to track me down and say "hi" is more than welcome—I may even draw you something!

Stay sexy everybody, and take care of dA while I'm gone!

~Rondie out.