Unlocking the Air

Fans of Ursula K. Le Guin’s writing, like I am, will appreciate this volume of eighteen short stories. They will not, perhaps, rave about it or recommend it to all their friends, but they will enjoy the familiar strangeness of Le Guin’s science fantasy expressed in stories that are more or less realism. Until they reach the title story, “Unlocking the Air,” they may feel a little bored or puzzled or disappointed, but those who have also read Orsinian Tales will be delighted to read what may be the best story about Stefan Fabbre, a character whose story gradually becomes more defined throughout Orsinian Tales and at last manifests itself as art in “Unlocking the Air.”

As for the other stories, they are a mix of magical realism (“Daddy’s Big Girl,” about a girl who will not stop growing), surrealism (“The Spoons in the Basement”), fairy tales (“A Child Bride,” “The Wise Woman,” and the most excellent take on Sleeping Beauty “The Poacher”), and some very short scenes. I also suspect the story” “Olders” to belong to the Earthsea universeThere is also, I suspect, a story of Earthesa, “Olders,” in which Le Guin returns to her beloved theme of trees.

Of the other Le Guin story collections I’ve read (Wind’s Twelve Quarters, Four Ways to Forgiveness, The Birthday of the World, and Orsinian Tales), Wind’s Twelve Quarters is still the best. Some of the stories from Unlocking the Air are better than others–the longer tending to be better than the shorter, and any Le Guin fan would find much to appreciate.

Ode to the Moleskine

It would be hard for me not to gush about the greatness of the Moleskine journals. I keep a short lined journal, which I have decorated with paint pens and permanent markers and pens and pencils and whatever else is on hand, in my purse at all times. It contains notes, numbers, grocery lists, directions, outlines, funny overheard sentences, and a list of movies people tell me I should see.

I also have a Moleskine address book, which I have painted gold. I particularly like it because it does not have the information lines you must fill in. If you happen only to need someone’s email, you take up only two lines. Also the handy elastic keeps business cards and other scraps safe inside.

I have a Moleskine weekly diary too, which I labeled ‘MMVIII’ on the spine. I like the way I can see a week at a glance, and the bookmark is almost as handy as the informational first few pages containing time zone charts, Celsius-Fahrenheit conversion, international holidays, etc. Many things would I have forgotten without this book.

I’ve also used a Moleskine city journal (Roma). The most helpful thing was the extremely accurate map in the front, as well as a diagram of Metro stops. It’s about the size of a passport and eminently portable.

But my favoritest favorite of all is the regular tall lined journal. I’ve used it for a variety of things, but the reason it brings me the most joy is that I’ve discovered it is perfect for rough drafts. The lines are close enough together to prevent me from scratching everything out and rewriting it. There are no wasted margins, except the top where I can make general notes. The size of the pages is just such that completing one gives me a sense of accomplishment and eagerness to go on. If I need inspiration, I can page back through the journal, appreciating the silly doodles, remembering the notes from this class or the delight of this parody, comparing the way my notes turned into some prose that really isn’t too bad.

As I contemplate beginning another story, I take out my year-old Moleskine–long-lived, durable, and still unassumingly attractive–and appreciate the way the pages actually lie flat. I believe I’m wonderfully addicted, embarrassingly in love. Such a journal inspires, as it should.