Bitterblue by Kristin Cashore

Bitterblue by Kristin Cashore
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I wish we could give half stars. I'm torn between rounding up or rounding down. It's somewhere between a three and a four, I guess.

I think, in the end, I preferred Fire to Bitterblue, but that was mostly because I preferred the protagonist in the former to the one in the latter. I would like to reread all three of them soon, just to get the story told in all three clearer in my mind. Too much time and distance between my first reading of each is muddling my perception of them all, right now.



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Reasonable people MAY disagree, but every word in that sentence has meaning.

I've been thinking a lot lately about the notion that reasonable people may disagree on some subjects. It's a no-brainer, really, isn't it? One of the things that makes life so interesting is the varied philosophies and temperaments that comprise the people in one's own life, let alone the entire world. Inevitably, some of these variations in human life will give rise to disagreements; this is probably particularly true during an election year. I endeavor now, though I didn't always, to be polite and open to discussion, even with people that I know I will take the opposite sides of a given issue. I believe strongly that there are valid opposing points of view on most topics about which I feel strongly.

The other day, while driving to work, I pulled up at a traffic light behind an expensive, late-model SUV that was sporting a bumper sticker that read "Navy SEALS took out one Muslim threat to America, and it's up to the rest of us to remove the other."  They also sported a small tasteful American flag on their (import) SUV.

Setting the irony of the flag aside for a moment, the bumper sticker just floored me for several moments. I live in an educated, affluent suburb of Kansas City. This person was ostensibly educated enough to recently a nice, imported SUV to display that ignorant bumper sticker.

As I said on Facebook when I related this anecdote initially, I followed it up with the thought this chance encounter had crystallized for me: "There are things about which reasonable people can disagree, but the emphasis is on the reasoning skills of both parties."

It's terribly depressing, but I think I've finally given up hope of meaningful exchanges of ideas with a vast swath of humanity. There's no reasoning with a person who holds views that willfully ignorant. There's no discussion or room for persuasion with someone who only latches on to the information that reinforces their worst ideas and biases.

It's a grim idea. It fills me with fear and purpose though, and those two things are inextricably related. My fear is that this is the future of American discourse, and the time of cross-party cooperation is forever at an end. My purpose is to never, ever be one of those people for my own side.

Today I ordered a bumper sticker for my own car:

Fell off the wagon. Bounced.

I'm starting fresh for September, which means I have about one hour and thirty-five minutes to get my three pages written for today. I wrote really consistently for most of August, but I fell off the wagon completely the second day of a terrible cold. Nothing for it but to dust off and try again.

Wish me luck!

Today's words: 756
Darling of the Day:  My real mother, who is not Momma but the Dark Lady, comes to see me sometimes, but only at the new moon. Her clothes are fine, soft, and made of rich dark fabrics of blue or green. She meets with my Momma and Papa alone first, always, and then she sits at a stool near the fire and watches me. If I am asleep, this wakes me. If I was awake, she always knows if I am pretending to sleep. She smells like spices in the holiday cake, but never like baking. I have always known that this is the smell of money. No one ever calls her the Dark Lady, but I have made it her name in my head. She is my mother, and my Momma is my grandmother. I know this, also, without being told. It is part of my gift.