The lyf so short

The annoying thing about volunteering as a web journalist with your club of choice (the German Tolkien Society in this case) is that you regularly have to make time for "editorial team" meetings via Skype, that you have to run after topics, and that the people you have to run after for news don't always take you seriously because you are not writing for any "serious" medium. ALso, your husband may occasionally grouse because you invest time and effort and get no money for it.

The GOOD thing is that sometimes they DO take you seriously, which is why I got a folder of images from the Maker of Middle-earth exhibition AND the exhibition catalogue (it's got 416 pages, is that still a catalogue?) as a pdf file? Just because I am going to write an article about MoMe for the German Tolkien Society page. HOW AWESOME IS THAT? I am obviously not allowed to share it, but I can ogle it at leisure!
(I'm always surprised when things work out, OK?)

Incidentally, the catalogue is GORGEOUS and you should all buy it, ESPECIALLY those who can't make it to the exhibition, but also those who've seen it and chafed at the No Photography rule! Hint hint nudge nudge. There's SO MUCH in there, hot damn. If you order via the Bodleian directly, you can also buy a softcover edition which only costs 25 Pounds (rather than 40 for the hardcover - although it's totally worth it). Amazon etc. only have the hardcover.

...which is very sad indeed, I find myself nonetheless sidetracked into a ramble by obits like this:





coming from actual accomplished writers (TM).

If a fellow fan says something like this, my inner reaction is something along the lines of "Yeah, me too, pity there never was a reading/convention near us, or we didn't have the money or time to attend" or something like that. Because sure. As a lowly civilian (i.e. reader), you can't easily meet a big name writer. Legit.

But when it comes from someone who is basically a colleague of the deceased, it feels somehow different and I just want to roll my eyes and go "Well, why didn't you?"
I mean, I'm aware that they don't all hang out in some kind of hip Famour Writers club where everyone is friends with everyone. But if someone like Diane Duane or N.K. Jemisin wanted to meet up Ursula K. LeGuin, I'd think that until a few days ago, it would probably have been possible to, you know, arrange a meeting. Have their agents call her agent. Organise a joint reading or something. Or just meet up for cupcakes and tea and talk shop. You know what I mean.

So when I read "I would have loved to meet her" from, IDK, earthseafan1977 or someone, it feels sincere and sad; but when I read it from someone who (according to my doubtlessly unfair brain) could have accomplished that relatively easily, it causes raised eyebrows.

I have to consciously step back and remind myself that this is not fair. There are probably a dozen good reasons why it never went beyond "I would like to meet her some day". For starters, you rarely actively consider the mortality of someone you admire until it's too late. I wasn't aware that LeGuin was only two years younger than my grandmother, either - she always came across much younger in interviews, or when she accepted that National Book Foundation lifetime achievement award. People like that feel timeless, as if they're going to stay with us forever. So you're not actually aware that time will at some point run out and you should be making that appointment now rather than in five years' time. Sure. It happens. Lots of people never had that conversation about life, the universe and everything with their grandparents that they always meant to have. That may have happened.
Or even accomplished writers (TM) might feel starstruck, and not dare to approach someone who has had such an impact on the genre. In the same way that newbie fanfic writers wouldn't dare to approach what they perceive as a BNF, maybe these writers also felt beneath notice, and would never have considered themselves equals to LeGuin. Or they were terrified that the Grande Dame would have said something along the lines of "Sure, let's meet and discuss your books! You know, I felt that they left a lot to be desired." The anguish! Better not risk it.

In conclusion, of course writers are people, and life happens to them in the same way that it happens to readers. Which is a good thing to be aware of. But I did need to actively make myself aware of it. Because my first reaction was, nonetheless, "Yeah right, then why didn't you!"

Bad Lyra.
(Sad Lyra.)

so I'm glad I didn't commit myself to liveblogging about it. (I do hope I'll manage to do the finals on Saturday.)

I did not actually go to bed. But because it was a rather unexciting Semifinal, I couldn't tear my eyes off Robert Harris' Imperium until there was no more book left. It was RIVETING, I tell you, and I can't wait to get my hands on the sequels! Amusingly, the ESC made quite a nice backdrop of noise to it, in spite of the rather non-period quality of the music, although whenever there was a wave of applause, I was kind of confused to see a bunch of Ukrainian prettyboys in smart grey suits rather than a senator in toga candida, but nevermind. Immersion is good, right? Actually, it's been a long time since I got so immersed in any work of professionally published fiction, and I'm not even a fan of political or legal drama! -- Mind you, I may have developed a major fictional/historical crush on Marcus Tullius Cicero. Oh dear. I can only hope that he and Maedhros will get along in my limited headspace.

Maedhros *side-eyes hard*: And who would you be.
Cicero *calmly ordering the folds of his toga*: Your lawyer.
Maedhros: ... right.

Well, I guess that's settled then.

- - -

Also yesterday, I got surprise!flowers! Not from Cicero. Not from the husband, either! Not, in fact - before the tongues start wagging - from any man (living or otherwise). They're gorgeous and I feel rather guilty because I'm so horrible at sending out gifts or even just a damn card on time. I haven't had such a lovely bouquet since my wedding, good grief! THANK YOU SO MUCH! You know who you are. <3 I am in equal measures delighted and ashamed.


We're obviously talking about the big bouquet here. The lil' cuckoo flowers were plucked by Felix at my parents' place.

- - -

While I'm on the topic of TV and fandoms anyway, in accordance with the prophecy air dates we've finished watching the second season of The Last Kingdom, which was also riveting. (I did not end up with a fictional/historical crush on Alfred the Awesome, though, although David Dawson is really doing a fantastic job. I am, alas, less excited about Æthelflæd, who is brilliant in the books. Well, she's young, she might be awesome in future episodes.) Sadly, the costume design is, for the most part, still out of this world (that is to say, completely absurd). But the pacing was excellent. If we could have, we would have binge-watched the whole thing because waiting a whole week was hardly bearable, and I say that as someone who already knows the books! (Naturally, the series deviates from the books quite a bit, but the cornerstones remain.) Even Jörg, who was rather sore about the changes from the books in the first season (he's new to this having his fandom turned into film thing ;)) didn't mind it this time around, although we did miss the warfare-with-bees at Beamfleot. (But to be fair, Sword Song wasn't the strongest book in the series, so merging it with The Lords of the North may have been a very good move.) So now the waiting for the third season begins (assuming that the BBC will produce it in the first place! I very much hope they will!). But at least the latest book in the series is now available in softcover, so that'll keep us going for a bit.

Meanwhile, there's American Gods! Haven't seen anything except for the trailer, but that is looking promising, so I'm seriously considering getting Amazon Prime just for this. Is it worth it? Does anyone know? Argh, I so hope this is gonna be good!

Yesterday we had a minor (or maybe major? I'm not yet sure) familial crisis because of... Shockheaded Peter.

For those of you who are blessed in not knowing the book, let me just say that in my personal opinion Shockheaded Peter should only be looked at by people who are also old enough to emotionally handle movies rated 16+. The only people who need to read the book are maybe students of German literary history and/or infant psychology (How Not To Do It). Everyone else can happily go about their lives without a single line, and certainly without a whole poem. By no means should young and impressable children be exposed to it, even though the otherwise self-censorship-happy German printing businesses still lable it as "suitable for kindergardeners".

That's because older generations judge the book differently. In part because "they grew up with it and it didn't do them any harm", and in part because they have actually fond childhood memories of it. (Of course, some of the rhymes are funny or at the least entertaining; but let us not forget that they have been written to instill in young children a holy terror of thumb-sucking, rocking their chairs, not eating the soup mommy put in front of them and other dreadful sins. Yes, part of them is digestible; the rest has been specifically designed to traumatise children into obedience, which, I know, was considered a good way of turning them into productive citizens back in 1845 when the book was first published and, in fact, well into the 1970s. By the time they themselves become parents or even grandparents, they only remember the jolly rhymes, because of course at that point you're no longer afraid of the taylor with his scissors coming by to cut off your thumbs no matter how much you suck on them: You know that sort of thing doesn't really happen. I dare to postulate that a three-year-old may not in fact realise that.

(Excursus: A couple of years back, my cousin Ricardo was going on vacation with my parents and me. Don't quite recall how old he was -- oh wait, it was the year that Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix had been published, so he must have been 6. Late kindergarden age, in other words - at an age when even I would previously have accepted Shockheaded Peter as not necessarily a must-read, but manageable.
At any rate, my mom (shocked that her youngest brother - Ricardo's dad AND a bookseller - had never brought a copy of Shockheaded Peter home for his boys) read the book out to Ricardo. He was terrified, utterly terrified. My mother found this very puzzling because (much to her disapproval) Ricardo had already watched the first Lord of the Rings movies along with his older brothers, and those movies are rated 12+, and he's only 6, and all those monsters, and he wasn't terrified of those!
The important difference being, of course, that a six-year-old very well understands that Orcs and Nazgûl and Dark Lords don't live in our cities (he might even be aware that they don't exist at all!). Thumbsucking, on the other hand, tends to be a real-life experience for a six-year-old; he may even have been reprimanded for it, so the idea that a mother might go so far as to let someone radically solve the problem once and for all is just a little step from what he already knows. The terrors of Shockheaded Peter are laughable for adults, but they're not clearly distinguishable from reality for little kids! Yes, even if it's got Saint Nick appearing (oh wait, kids that age may well believe in St. Nick! oopsie!) and if cats can talk.)

So, because older generations have "happily" and "harmlessly" grown up with Shockheaded Peter, they still consider it suitable for kindergardeners. In fact, Felix has not even reached (conservative) kindergarden age ("3-6") yet. BUT NEVER MIND. At any rate, his doting grandmother (not my mom, but the other) has been quoting lines from Shockheaded Peter to Felix. I voiced my disapproval; she said "Well, it's only a few lines and nothing of the bad stuff". As it was, it's been from "The Dreadful Story of the Matches", but only the beginning, when little Pauline is just prancing around and discovering the matches, and the two cats are raising their paws and protesting that Mommy Has Forbidden You To Touch This. Not the part where Pauline disobeys Mommy and the kittens and burns all up, Look at her works, ye infants, and despair. So I figured I had to let it pass.
Felix, to nobody's surprise, loved the funny verses and has since been repeating the lines he's heard.
I mentioned my discomfort with this fact to the mother-in-law, again. As long as it was only these lines, OK, no harm done yet; but let's not take it any further, OK?

That was clearly waaaay too subtle, because while on a trip to the bookstore she bought a whole copy of Shockheaded Peter. (Quite pointless, by the way, because she already owns an anthology of funny German verse-stories unsuitable for little children that I asked her not to show to Felix anytime soon, but never mind, it's so easy to forget about these things!) Yesterday, while both she and my own parents were visiting, she produced the book. I said I did not feel the time was right.
"But it was written by a pediatrist - he should know!"
Yeah, because 1845 pediatrists were surely on a totally modern standard as far as childrearing is concerned. Ahahahahah.
"But it says 'kindergarden age' on the back!"
Tradition totally overrules my concerns, of course!
"We all grew up with it and it didn't do us any harm!"
I told the episode of Ricardo on that train journey to Tuscany. My mother had already forgotten about it and now felt guilty again, ten years later. (I did not make it up; it's in her travel diary, too. I checked this just now - just in case!)
At this point, Felix came running for granny, who beamed proudly and said "Look what granny brought" and opened the book for him.

At that point, I snapped.
"'Ooooh, I'll always respect your opinion where childrearing is concerned, and I'll never interfere,' she said", I said. "'I'll always ask before giving anything to Felix, and accept your judgement,' she said."
Stunned looks from her; Jörg jumping in: "But I don't have a problem with it!"
"Then we should settle that before anyone makes a decision."
"Nothing needs to be settled, you never said you had a problem with it."
I then left the room (possibly uttering something along the lines of "Kiss my butt, you do what you want anyway".)

No, I'm not proud of that scene. I'm not proud of dashing the mother-in-laws excitement, and I'm not proud of snapping at her, particularly in front of my own parents. I wish it had gone otherwise; but what's done is done.

However, I still think my outbreak wasn't entirely unjustified. It didn't come "out of the blue" as Jörg later said, at any rate. I have regularly expressed my disapproval - not to him, because he wasn't the addressee, but to his mother. I probably shouldn't have been surprised that she either didn't give a fuck or just didn't listen (which is more likely), but somehow, I always am. It's the same thing with the sweets she constantly brings for Felix: She always SHOWS them first, then asks if he can have them. At that point, I can either be the asshole who ruins Felix' anticipation (because he's already seen the treat, of course), or nod my OK. No pressure! I have asked her not to do that, but by now of course he knows that there's always something in her basket for him, so the point is moot anyway. Yesterday, she also complained that his first action, after acknowledging that "Granny is here!", is to go "What's in granny's basket?" Well, it's what you trained him to do! -- But I know, bringing up other peeves while arguing one point is bad style, so I'll shut up about that.

Suffice it to say that she left in a huff, Jörg insists that the two of us have to discuss that even though I feel that he could more easily play the middleman. He also insists that there's nothing wrong with letting Felix have the book, and surely his opinion is as valid as mine. As much as mine, but not more so, I hope! I am willing to discuss the matter with him and figure out a time (before 2027) at which I'll accept Felix' exposure to Shockheaded Peter. Yes, I am willing to accept some kind of foul compromise, even though let's face it, we have a very conservative family model in which I, the mother, am the fuck responsible for raising the kid (and dealing with his traumata, too!) while daddy earns our bread and butter, so in all honesty I think that in questions of education I should have a 75% vote at the very least. BUT NEVER MIND. Take your 50%, but I do insist on settling such questions BEFORE creating faits accomplis and then going "Well I didn't know you minded!"

And quite honestly, ignore me and don't do as I ask, but then do me a favour and stop blabbing your beloved "I'll always respect your judgement about childrearing, and I'll always ask before giving Felix anything, and you'll always have the last word!" mantra, because it's clearly bullshit. If you meant "I'll only listen when it suits me, and I'll do whatever the fuck I like, because I'm a grandmother and grandmothers are allowed to spoil their grandchildren and/or otherwise interfere with what their mothers think is right", then just SAY so. That way, I won't be surprised into bitch mode.

Yes, yesterday was bad form, and I wish it had gone otherwise; but at least neither Jörg nor his mother can say they never heard me disagree. But of course, all I can do now is feel guilty and worried and upset. Fuck it.

it has come to my attention (thank you, heartofoshun) that Captive Prince by freece is going to be published (professionally) by Penguin. Penguin!

I'm so happy for freece. Captive Prince is pretty much a demonstration of how good even a stigmatised genre like slash fiction can be (except that it's original, so I suppose it's "m/m erotica", not "slash"?). freece knows all the tropes and clichés of the genre in general and the sub-genre of slavefic in particular, and she plays with them masterfully (no pun intended). It's fantastic that the value of her story (or at least its commercial potential :P) has been recognised first by an agent, and then by several major publishing houses so she could actually choose between different publication offers.

I could gush on for ages about how awesome Captive Prince is, but I'm probably preaching to the choir here anyway (if by any chance you actually haven't read it yet and you do like high-quality slash fiction [but heed the warnings!], you can read the entire first two books for free here for another month, after which part of it must be taken down as per freece's contract with Penguin. Of course, that shouldn't stop you from buying the entire trilogy once it comes out!). And those among you who don't like the genre (whether fannish or original)... well, you probably don't want to read why I love it, anyway. ^^

But, yeah! Awesome news as far as I am concerned. My day is made! These things happen after all!

Yeah, April was meant to be Back to Business month, but it's also Catching Up with Stuff month more generally.

For instance, I was so busy writing and stamping and posting about stamping and posting about writing in March that I missed the entirety of The Return of the King on Mark Reads. And after that he moved on to The Princess Bride which I know and love as well, so now I'm catching up with that. (Unlike Mark, I do not have the willpower to limit myself to just one chapter per day, so I'm reading the whole thing in big gulps until something or someone interrupts me.)
So I'm now in Chapter Six, The Festivities, and Mark (who is, for once, entirely spoiled because he's seen the movie about a thousand times) has reached the point where the Machine is first tested.

I did not think of it at the time, because I did not grow up on The Princess Bride, neither book nor movie (but I think the Machine wasn't in the movie anyway?), and just read it much later in my life and only three or so times and only watched the movie once, so it hasn't engrained itself in my brain the way other books and movies have. But now that it's been brought back to my mind - and I'm sorry to say this, and I'm especially sorry if that puts all of you off the having babies thing for ever and ever - I'm kind of sad about it, because the way Morgenstern Goldman describes what the Machine is like for Westley sums up perfectly why giving birth to Felix was such a difficult experience for me, and haunted me for so long.
I could not take my mind away.
In one way, of course, that is a good thing, because really, that's such a life-changing thing that you should be there with all your being, including your mind, instead of fantasizing about Maedhros and Fingon, I mean, honestly, woman, what are you doing.
On the other hand, it's not exactly the most pleasant experience on this planet. Or it wasn't for me, anyway. And normally, I take my mind away from unpleasant experiences. Even the mildly unpleasant, like doing the dishes or trying to make the 3km walk to our bus stop in less than 15 minutes, and certainly the majorly unpleasant, like a visit to the dentist's. And birthing was majorly unpleasant, and I could not distract myself. I had no control over what my body was doing and I couldn't even control my mind, either. And that was what made the first weeks so rocky, too, and what made me feel like such a failure. (Well, not just that. But it was part of the package.)

OK, that was random and disturbing. I find it helpful, though, so deal with it (or ignore it, of course).
For instance, I know that there are classes that deal with preparing the mind for the birthing process, and there's hypno-birthing and all that - and crazy as it may sound for the uninitiated, I think I'll look into that when we decide to turn Felix into a big brother.
So there.

Brought to you by my mind & The Princess Bride. (Do read that if you haven't. You probably have to see the movie as a kid or you won't enjoy it as much, but the book works perfectly even for adults. Perhaps even more for adults.)

> Weather feels positively autumnal: grey, cold and wet. I am not objecting to cold: Monday was too hot for my tastes and it wasn't even particularly warm for summer. Yesterday was grey and had the sort of drizzle that can't decide whether it's rain or fog, which also appears to be the weather of choice today. I'd rather have proper honest rain, but I doubt the weather cares. Oh well, at least with the foggle no one has to worry about stuff getting washed away in the garden or elsewhere.

> It's due date day! So far, however, no change is noticeable aside from some light twinging. CTG showed a whole lot of action including some powerful contractions, but I am not really feeling anything. I'm wondering whether maybe it's actually noting down some of the more powerful baby movement as contractions? Offspring has, at any rate, grown very strong, and when he turns, my entire midsection moves along. The day before yesterday Jörg was surprised and delighted to actually see proper mini-human outlines move around under my skin!
The bump now looks ridiculous - whenever I think it can't grow any further it does, and it still grows only to the front. I look totally un-pregnant from behind, quite confusing some judo parents when I accompanied Jörg to a belt testing (he was the examiner, not a testee) yesterday...

> Offspring has also grown quite "vocal", in his way (that is, voicelessly). When I kind of need to go to the toilet but am too lazy to get up, for instance, he'll PUSH and PUSH and PUSH against my bladder until I have no choice. He'll do the same with my intestines if he somehow feels they restrict his movement. PUSH push push push push push. Sweety, I understand it's getting crowded down there, but mommy needs to eat and drink occasionally, yes? For your sake, too. If it's getting too cramped, why, there's a whole new world out here.

> Today's CTG session meant that I finally read those last two chapters of A Game of Thrones that were still missing. The pathetic attempt at epic promise in the last-but-one, and the hysterical masturbatory fantasy (with dragons!) in the final chapter, certainly drove home the point that I have no interest whatsoever to re-read this book or take a look at any of the sequels. Oh God. So bad. SO BAD. I couldn't even feel relieved when I'd finally finished it because I felt so horrible about reading it. I'll probably have to write a lengthy rant just to purge this from my brain. I know some of you gals really like these books and I'm trying to respect that just as you respect my shameless Tolkienism, but gods. I don't even. I don't think I want to take a look at the TV series, either, no matter how well it is done. Ye Valar, I had more fun reading Twilight and that's saying something. And I was really trying to like it this time around, too.
Maybe those contractions on the CTG were actually my stomach turning at the sheer awfulness of it all?

> Yesterday we sort of accidentally watched football. Sort of accidentally because so far we've only rarely zapped into some of the Women's World Cup games, quickly got bored, and switched the channel (neither of us care overmuch for football-for-its-own-sake, so watching a game just because it's a football game - even a world cup game - isn't really our thing). Now yesterday we zapped into the Japan vs. Sweden semi-final, and wow, that was intense and gripping and fast and actually quite exciting. So we ended up watching the whole thing. If football looked like that all the time, I'd probably be a proper fan. Seriously, that was beautiful. And Japan won, woo hoo! (Sorry, Sweden. At least you can kick for third place, now?) Now I just hope the Japan vs. USA game on Sunday turns out to be equally watchable.

> I've sorted various paper-y things that I've been procrastinating to tackle (some of them for years), finally decided to cancel my membership at the Cologne kendô club (I haven't gone to practice ever since I returned from Japan, and that was three and a half years ago), and sent out the CfL artwork for hhimring and lanyon. Perhaps this is my version of a nesting/cleaning spree?

Walking through Cologne I chanced to approach the WDR building. Over the entrance they had a great poster for something to do with football, don't ask me, at any rate the caption read something like "DAS ERSTE TOR muss man erleben" ("THE FIRST GOAL is a must-experience").
Except that from the angle at which I was approaching, I could at first only see "ERSTE TOR", which, being ungrammatical, my brain immediately substituted with "ERESTOR". And I was, for a second, before reality caught up with me and I could see the rest of the poster, wondering what the hell the WDR had to do with Erestor. An audiobook broadcast, perhaps? But why would they advertise that with Erestor of all the somewhat more obscure Tolkien characters? (Not that I don't realise that Erestor has quite the fan following, but that's, well, within the fandom.)
...
...

Also I read a - overall pretty good - review of The Graveyard Book. The gist of it was that the book is awesome and a new staple of childrens' literature, but the author of the review was slightly peeved that we never hear about Bod teething, or how the inhabitants of the cemetary dispose of the soiled napkins, because, and that's the interesting part, a real child would certainly do a lot of teething and keeping people up at night (... day) with its crying, and crap a lot of diapers.

This has to be enjoyed appropriately.
We are talking about a book in which a human toddler escapes from a killer and is raised by ghosts in a cemetary and grows up, on the whole, well-adjusted and healthy; and they complain because it is not realistic that he's never shown teething.

...
Wow, that is a weird pushing point for willing suspension of disbelief. Teething? Seriously? (Am tempted to suspect that the author of the review just returned to work after a few months of parental leave...)

Actually I signed up for a crapload of memes and never got around to doing them, but if I deal with the backlog now I'll just be frustrated anyway, so let's do the latest one instead. And then to bed.

Taken from chili_das_schaf and laurenia.

1. Pick 10 of your favorite books or series.
2. Post the first sentence of each book. (If one sentence seems too short, post two or three!)
3. Let everyone try to guess the titles and authors of your books.

In an attempt at being eclectic, this will be a veeery mixed bag, but most of it is either escapist or young adults or otherwise No Serious Business. I am not feeling well enough for the Canon Of World Literature.
Crappy translations into English are my own, because I don't own English copies of the books even if they exist. So if you think you roughly recognise something but they wording isn't the same as in the official translation, that's just because I didn't use the official translation.

1. Marseille, Anfang Germinal, Jahr II (Ende März nach Mamas altmodischer Zeitrechnung)
Ich glaube, eine Frau kann viel leichter bei einem Mann etwas durchsetzen, wenn sie einen runden Busen hat.

[Marseille, early Germinal, Year II (late March by Mama's old-fashioned reckoning)
I think that a woman can convince a man much easier when she has a round bosom.
Annemarie Selinko, Desirée, guessed by laurenia's mom

2. My father had a face that could stop a clock.
Jasper Fforde, The Eyre Affair, guessed by laurenia

3. The knife had a handle of polished black bone, and a blade finer and sharper than any razor.
Neil Gaiman, The Graveyard Book, guessed by furius

4. Der Zug blies sein Signal und setzte sich in Bewegung. Ein Junge stand in einem der Waggons am Fenster und sah den Mann und die Frau an, die ihm vom Bahnsteig winkten, der Mann mit einer Hand, knapp und verstohlen, die Frau mit beiden Armen und einem riesigen, roten Tuch.

[The train whistled its signal and began to move. A boy stood at the window in one of the carriages, looking at the man and the woman who stood waving on the platform, the man waving with one hand, curtly and surreptitiously, the woman with both arms and a gigantic red scarf.]

5. There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. We had been wandering, indeed, in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the morning; but since dinner (Mrs Reed, when there was no company, dined early) the cold winter wind had brought with it clouds so sombre, and a rain so penetrating, that further outdoor exercise was now out of the question.
Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre, guessed by lanyon

6. Es war drückend heiß, obwohl die Fenster und auch die Tür zum Gang offenstanden. Die Kinder waren eine Stunde lang mäuschenstill gewesen; wahrscheinlich war eher die Hitze daran schuld als die Moralpredigt, die der Lehrer ihnen zu Beginn des Nachmittagsunterrichts gehalten hatte.

[It was stiflingly hot, even though the windows and even the door to the corridor were wide open. The children had been quiet as mice for an hour; likely the heat was more responsible for that than the reprimand that their teacher had given at the beginning of the afternoon classes.]
Tonke Dragt, Das Geheimnis des siebten Weges, guessed by munditia

7. These days I look at twenty-year-olds and think they're pathetically young, scarcely weaned from their mothers' tits, but when I was twenty I considered myself a full-grown man.

8. In alten, alten Zeiten, als die Menschen noch in ganz anderen Sprachen redeten, gab es in den warmen Ländern schon große und prächtige Städte.

[In ancient, ancient times, back when people were talking in completely different languages, there already were grand and splendid cities in the warm countries.]
Michael Ende, Momo, guessed by deutscheami

9. They say when trouble comes close ranks, and so the white people did. But we were not in their ranks.
Jean Rhys, Wide Sargasso Sea, guessed by munditia
(... what's with all the Jane Eyre stuff on here? How did that happen? How tired was I yesterday?)

10. Siþen þe sege and þe assaut watz sesed at Troye,
Þe borȝ brittened and brent to brondez and askez,
Þe tulk þat þe trammes of tresoun þer wroȝt
Watz tried for his tricherie, þe trewest on erthe.

[After the siege and the assault at Troy had been ceased,/ The fortress demolished and burned to embers and ashes,/ The man who had plotted the stratagems of treason there/ was tried for his treachery, the most factual case on earth.]
(Yes, that actually is one of my favourite books. Poems. Whichever.)

And because it's lying around here because I'm trying to motivate myself into reading at least a little Japanese, have an 11th one. This is an addition because the book is not originally Japanese; but assuming you can get through the Japanese, I think it's immediately obvious which book it is, so I can as well put it here for kicks:

11. 地面の穴のなかに、ひとりのホビットが住んでいました。
J・R・R・トールキン, ホビットの冒険, guessed by munditia and barbardin

The dead week has come, and I must go to work.

Actually work has three absolutely dead weeks: the last two weeks of December and the first week of January; but the week between Christmas and New Year's, the last week, this week, is the deadest of them all.

Two years ago I also had to work Between Years, and unfortunately M. had to "work" as well, so I spent 20 hours that week trying to look busy while he played tennis on his cell phone (because Eru forbid I don't do my work. Even if there is no work.)

This year M. has taken off for Between Years, and the only other person from our department who is there with me is C., another student.

C. is nice and has a working brain, making me wonder what she's doing in this company (but then who am I to talk), and of course she knows as well as I that you have to bide the time somehow, since at some point, even with all the work left over from the busy last weeks, there's just nothing left. Especially when the idiotic translating project you were supposed to work on suddenly got turned into "Oh, it is translated already, you just format it so the fonts are congruent and such." And pick up the mistakes made by the guy who did the translation in my place, who apparently uses British and American English interchangeably and does not know how to write "whether".

"So what are you doing?" C. asks me.
"Formatting that stupid test procedure," says I.
"Yeah," says she. "I mean, besides that, when the time is up."
I am unsure what to say - admit that I am doing something aside from working? Not that she doesn't know, but duh, you don't talk about that.
Then again, whyever not?
"Come on, fess up," says C. "See, I'm reading New Moon. There, whatever you do, it can't be that embarrassing."
I snerk. "I," I say, "am reading Twilight."
"You're lucky," C. comments. "That one is still readable."

It actually is, colour me surprised. I cringe a lot because Smeyers makes a lot of the mistakes I would have made a few years ago, before I started getting into fanfic, and the random tense changes, the bouts of purpleness, the chuckling and the unbearable clumsiness (not to mention the bewildering mix of arrogance and self-depreciation) of Bella make me GROAN.
Whenever I groan, C. laughs and says, "Oh, did he chuckle again?"
You could turn it into a drinking game.

Still, it is dull, but not irredeemable: A lot of shortening in some quarters and some additional work in others could have turned this into a quite enjoyable read. It is sad that among the many people who read Smeyer's manuscript and encouraged that she publish it there was not one capable beta-reader.

I doubt I'll manage to read the sequels, though. I am not that masochistic. But as for the first book, I've been forced to read Pulitzer-prize winning books that were written worse.
Huh.