Fantasy That

Up till the time I got married, I had been a serial reader. I chain-read, sometime two or three books concurrently, and couldn't even begin to imagine quitting, or even pausing for that matter. The only time I had actually been forced to stop was when I was cramming for my O/levels - see my mum was convinced I was going to flunk and she proclaimed a no-books-till-exam-week-is-over decree. THEN to add insult to injury she told me that Vijitha Yapa was having a book sale, that she was going to let me go with my father and buy whatever I wanted BUT on the condition that I promised I wouldn't read them till after the exam. now picture this - not only couldn't I read, but she had actually bought me three new books, ones I hadn't read before, and then told me I couldn't read them. So I cheated. I didn't read them, I HAD promised after all, but I read and re-read the blurb on the back of the books till I pretty much had them committed to memory.

Anyway, where was I? Right, the marriage thing and the no reading after that thing. Yup, so I get married and now suddenly there's this man in my bed (well technically his bed since I had moved in with him) and there was no me space in which to lounge around and read all day. And there were things to do! Meals to cook, clothes to wash, sex to have and by the time I crept back to my side of the bed (yes, I had to have a side now) there was no time to read. After a while of course the chores eased up (there was less sex) so I got some reading time in. But that lull in reading I think scarred me for life.
To get to the point of this post - there is a point, I just took the scenic route - when it comes to what I like to read, I think my favourite genre is fantasy. Now for me, the love of magic, and all things fantastic started with Enid Blyton - what could be more fantastic than the Magic Faraway Tree and the wishing chair? 

I have no idea who that upside down policeman is

Then later, I discovered Lewis Carrol and understood whimsy even before I could spell whimsy. And I still maintain that the best fantasy is the stuff targeted at kids. Case in point - I like David Gemmel but I wouldn't read his books over and over again. Well, okay, I would but maybe 3 times over at the most. On the other hand, I have read the Narnia books at least 7-8 times over and I'm sure I'll read them some more before i get senile. A lot of it has to do with the fact that kids' books are an easy read. You don't have to wade through paragraphs of descriptive text to get to the dialogue, everyone's name is more or less pronounceable, and the book can be easily finished in a day. I love children's books. My absolute favourite fantasy series? Lloyd Alexander's Chronicles of Prydain.

Alas, no picture of Hen Wen

 It has stellar characters, it's dark - sometimes frighteningly so (the cauldron-born scared me shitless), it's funny and it has an oracular pig. (I rest my case. You can't argue away an oracular pig, it's not possible.)
“But what about Terry Pratchett?” You ask me, aghast at my slip. I was focusing more on what i read in my formative year - I was introduced to Terry Pratchett a bit later in life. That a whole other post. I think what i love most about the Discworld books is that they look like they were writtenm for kids, but really aren't yet sound like they were when you read it.  “What? That doesn’t make any sense” you say. “Does too” I respond. “How?” says you. “Just” says I, succinctly proving my point. 

And that's it. (Yes, really, that's it. I can't think of anything more to say and i don't have anything witty to end it with. Look, don't scroll down, there's nothing there.)