Lost, and Found

I apologize for my unwieldy absence; I've been away, and relocating to London, where I shall hope to sleuth about the literary scene on behalf of my fellow editors with equanimity. And, doubtless, walk into a great many passers-by.

In the process, I seem to have forgotten Dr. Johnson's dictionary--still under the bed, this time in my old house. A great pity indeed.

But all is not lost! I have had a hint that great news is ahead. Please watch this space, for a grand adventure unfolds...But how do I know?

...It buzzes, within, this sense--clear and qualmless as any bell. See? If you can't beat them, join them: words are fluid, as is language itself. Perhaps someday we shall communicate purely by images 'sent' to each others' brains. A great pity, one feels, indeed. For without words, without the weight and heft of them...

Let's just leave it at that for this evening, shall we? And, back to the pondering-board as one contemplate a wordless life. A human existence, or no?

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Fleshquake, or, A Word Perhaps Better Left to the Past, and Other Musings

Fleshquake. n.s. A tremor of the body: a word formed by Jonson in imitation of earthquake.

A word, one could say, perhaps better left to the past?

It is singular that, in our modern world of automatic newsfeeds and nonstop commentary, we have not the penchant for forming new (often beautiful) words that our forbears did. If human nature can be allowed to exhibit its fullest creative qualities, perhaps 'fleshquake' will do.

Cloris looked up at the Baron; her whole small being was wracked by a fleshquake. "If the Commodore holds my father's will, then please tell me this: Who will buy the peas for our army's offense?" The Baron had no answer for this nine-year-old's precocious questioning, for in truth, she was right. Without peas, they were lost.

Next, as I believe, will be a post on Why Children's Books?.