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review 2018-01-13 03:06
Beauty and His Beast by Bey Deckard
Beauty and His Beast - Bey Deckard,Starr Waddell

I hated the human prince in Disney animated movie too. 
I was like "who's deh guy?....



...ditch him, girl! you want the hairy one!"

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text 2017-12-27 20:38
16 Tasks of the Festive Season: Square 14 - Dies Natalis Solis Invicti
The Black Stallion Adventure Set: Four-Volume Box Set - Walter Farley
Winnetou I - Karl May
Durch die Wüste - Karl May
Black Beauty (Scholastic Classics) - Anna Sewell

Tasks for Dies Natalis Solis Invicti: Find the sunniest spot in your home, that’s warm and comfy and read your book. –OR– Take a picture of your garden, or a local garden/green space in the sun (even if the ground is under snow). If you’re in the Southern Hemisphere, take a picture of your local scenic spot, park, or beach, on a sunny day. –OR– The Romans believed that the sun god rode across the sky in a chariot drawn by fiery steeds. Have you ever been horseback riding, or did you otherwise have significant encounters with horses? As a child, which were your favorite books involving horses?

 

When I was very little, horses slightly intimidated me, but -- like everything moderately scary -- they also fascinated me enormously.  By the time I was in elementary school, there was a riding stable and school just a few houses from ours in our street, with one of the pastures coming up all the way to the walkway (we weren't living in Bonn proper but in a village nearby at the time).  One day, as a dare, some friends and I climbed the fence of that pasture and mounted the two horses grazing there -- as luck would have it, they were two extremely friendly and patient fjordhests (Norwegian fjord horses) named, as I would later learn, Charlie and Suraba, who bore our antics with all the goodwill that horses of their breed are capable of, which is surprisingly much.

 

My mother, upon hearing my guilelessly proud recital of the episode, took this as a sign that maybe rather than going on to naively approach animals considerably bigger and stronger than myself, I ought to have some proper instruction in horsewomanship, and this is how I came to be enrolled for my first riding classes -- for the very first couple of which, as coincidence would have it, I would find myself (this time with due license) again on the backs of Suraba and Charlie.  On their bare backs, that is: riding instruction in this place started you out without a saddle, so as to improve your sense of balance and build up your leg muscles quicker than might have been the case if you had had stirrups to hold you.

 

I had tremendous fun, but I've never been one for building up proficiency in anything slowly and gradually, so within a few weeks I demanded to be included in one of the several-hour-long jaunts offered by the stables every weekend.  My mom inquired with my riding teacher whether I was ready for this sort of thing (not necessarily hoping to get "no" for an answer, but obviously, to get a genuine assessment).  My teacher thought I was ready and added, "she'll just have to learn how to canter for short periods, which hasn't been part of her instruction just yet."  So, to catch up with the other folks going on the excursion, I was given some extra instruction in cantering. 

 

The problem, as it would turn out, was that during that lesson I had been in a saddle for a change, as a result of which I still had absolutely no clue what a gallopping horse's movements under you feel like when you do not have a pair of stirrups to give you extra hold ... and just how much harder it is to stay on the horse's back as a result.  Well, you guessed it -- come Sunday, it was back to "no saddle" (thank God, on the back my Norwegian friend Charlie).  Which I enjoyed just fine as long as we were just walking and trotting along leisurely -- but the excursion's first gallop was a major wake up moment.  I managed to hold on (and would have been way too pigheaded to give up anyway), but I was apprehensive of the next time nevertheless; and what had to happen of course promptly happened ... halfway through the second gallop I was no longer able to hold on, and I fell.  For a seemingly eternal moment, I watched Charlie's hooves flying over me: horses will instinctively try to avoid stepping on humans (and all smaller creatures) in their way, and ordinarily Charlie would very likely have stopped and / or veered sideways, but the path was narrow and there were other riders directly behind us, so he probably felt pressured forward, and as a result he did the only thing left to him -- he jumped right over me.  Thankfully, he managed to avoid hitting my head or anything else truly vital -- but one of his hooves left a horseshoe-shaped mark on my right shoulder, and my right collarbone was sprained.  Once my shoulder was righted, of course that horseshoe mark turned out a badge of honor (which I exploited for all it was worth), but I learned the biggest lesson of all horsemanship on that day: Whenever you have fallen, it is vital for you to get right back onto your horse -- if you don't, you'll never go riding again.  (Of course, for the trip home I was given a saddle, and to everybody else's chagrin there was to be no more cantering that day.)

 

I continued to ride all through my school years until my graduation from high school and abandoned it, much to my chagrin, only when assignment and study pressure in university got too big for me to still be able to invest the considerable amount of time that this particular pastime requires, but I immensely hated having to give it up -- and if by now my backbone weren't a mess of herniated discs, I'd still like to go back to riding.

 

As far as favorites go, while I (still) love horses of all breeds and colors, I've always had a particular love for the two breeds most prominent in the riding stables where I started out -- Norwegian fjord horses and Haflingers -- as well as Mustangs, and, at the extreme opposite end of the spectrum, purebred Arabians, particularly if raven black.  There was a bit of a chicken-and-egg thing going on with my favorite horse-related reading and TV ingestion when I was in elementary and middle school (I loved Walter Farley's Black Stallion series, the adventure novels of Karl May, whose heroes Winnetou and Old Shatterhand / Kara Ben Nemsi own peerless black stallions, and the various TV "adaptations" -- to use the term loosely -- of Anna Sewell's Black Beauty, which basically made Beauty an equine version of Lassie), but in any event, for years I used to dream of owning a black stallion myself -- preferably, a purebred Arabian.

 

Unfortunately, virtually all of my horse- and riding-related photos were in one of several albums drowned in the floods of a broken pipe in their place of storage while I was living in the U.S., so literally all I have left is a photo taken by a French penfriend, whose family owned horses and whom I visited shortly before graduating from high school -- and a photo taken a few years earlier, during a vacation in Austria, where I made friends with a mare and her filly that we passed on a walking trip (I was unable to walk by any horses without trying to get their attention and pet them at the time):

 

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review 2017-12-19 16:36
Wild Beauty / Anna-Marie McLemore
Wild Beauty - Anna-Marie McLemore

For nearly a century, the Nomeolvides women have tended the grounds of La Pradera, the lush estate gardens that enchant guests from around the world. They’ve also hidden a tragic legacy: if they fall in love too deeply, their lovers vanish. But then, after generations of vanishings, a strange boy appears in the gardens.

The boy is a mystery to Estrella, the Nomeolvides girl who finds him, and to her family, but he’s even more a mystery to himself; he knows nothing more about who he is or where he came from than his first name. As Estrella tries to help Fel piece together his unknown past, La Pradera leads them to secrets as dangerous as they are magical in this stunning exploration of love, loss, and family.

 

What person who has ever gardened wouldn’t rejoice to have the talents of the Nomeolvides family? They have flower power just waiting in their hands and when they touch soil, lush plants in full bloom appear magically. No waiting for things to grow and fill in, no waiting period!

But there is a price to be paid and it’s a steep one. The women (and they are all female) can never leave this estate and if they fall deeply in love, their lovers eventually magically disappear. This leads to stunted relationships, as the women fear to fully engage their emotions. The youngest generation, the girls just coming into their own, make a sacrifice to the land, hoping to deflect this destructive love-magic, and a young man appears in their garden. He can’t remember his name or where he has come from, but his presence changes the balance of things.

Watching the family negotiate these changes is engrossing—there are some rather heavy-handed “morals” worked into the story, but one needn’t dwell on them. There’s the rich/poor dichotomy, a definite message about caring for the earth and for other people. Not bad messages, just rather blatant.

And that cover? I’d be happy to own a copy of the book just for that lovely cover!

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text 2017-12-19 15:36
Review: Bloom by Kelle Hampton
Bloom: Finding Beauty in the Unexpected--A Memoir - Kelle Hampton

What a load of narcissistic, inspirational porn from a shallow, insecure woman-child. This book wasn't about her relationship with her new daughter and the daughter's diagnosis (Down Syndrome), but her unending whining about how her ideal family life was not made into reality. The author is emotionally and mentally exhausting, and her cabal of enablers (friends, family, husband) just kept her cocooned in her grief. Everything that pertained to her daughter or her condition had to have the author at its core and the author had to have someone hold her hand and do the work for her.

 

When she did bother to think of her daughter, the writing went into treacle, inspirational porn territory. So many "getting through pain to the beauty" "pain comes with beauty" etc. Vague enough to fit any circumstance, cute enough to write in a cursive font over a picture of a sunset and post to IG to show how "deep" you are. UGH. Every person with DS that she came into contact with was a vessel used by God to show her the beauty in being different. DOUBLE UGH.

 

Stay away. 0 stars.

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review 2017-12-16 00:00
Black Beauty (Scholastic Classics)
Black Beauty (Scholastic Classics) - Anna Sewell I remember having read this in 3rd or 4th grade and having liked it. Basically, we have the autobiography of a horse. Black Beauty, it seems, is a stallion (or gelding, we're never told). I always assumed that with a name like that he was a she. But nope! A guy horse. None-the-less, all the 9-year old girls who love horses will adore this book. So, also will old Calvinist moralists, like myself, who like animal stories dosed with some good, old fashioned moralizing.

Anyway, this was quite a fun book. Beauty narrates his life from colthood to old age. He sees many changes in that he switches hands from time to time from a good "master" to a not-so-good one, from good care to negligent care, from proper work to over work, and so on. Along the way, we learn the stories of some of the other horses with whom Beauty shared a stable, and we learn much about the proper way to care for a horse so as to get the best work from him. Horses like to work hard for people they like. Nope, don't mind it a bit. Bless their equine hearts.
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