Hugh did one of those LiveJournal chain-letter things recently, the kind with questions to answer, designed to encourage people to write stuff. In this case, stuff about books. Perhaps he felt that I haven’t written enough lately, because at the end he indicated that he’d like me to answer the questions too. So here we go.

You’re stuck inside Fahrenheit 451. Which book do you want to be?

This makes little sense. Hugh was just as mystified as I am, and I can only agree with his sentiment that it would be preferable to be one of the ones that doesn’t get burnt, that being rather the point of Fahrenheit 451.

I’m told there is a movie of Fahrenehit 451, but I’ve never seen it. I read the book. Then I went out for a walk.

Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character?

C.J. from The West Wing.

The last book you bought is?

The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Creating a Graphic Novel.

The last book you finished is?

Nasreddin Hodja, a collection of folk stories about the Turkish wise fool character, believed to have originally been a contemporary of Tamerlane in 15th century Anatolia. I bought it in Turkey because I’d heard Iranian Bahá’ís tell very funny “Mullah Nasrudin” stories. It turns out you have to tell them the right way, and clearly the way you tell them in Turkish didn’t survive translation into English. For example:

His neighbour wanted to borrow Hodja’s rope. Hodja went into his house and when he came out after a while, he told his neighbour,
“We are using the rope. My wife has laid flour on it.”
His neighbour was surprised.
“That’s impossible! You can’t lay flour on a rope!”
“If you don’t want to lend it, then it is possible,” Hodja replied.

What are you currently reading?

The System of the World, by Neal Stephenson. I’ve been reading this on and off in little bits ever since I moved to Auckland. I’m nearly at the end, and have yet to be shaken from my conviction that the three moderately interesting 800-page books of the Baroque Cycle ought to have been cut down to one very interesting 800-page book. Neal Stephenson needs a good editor.

Five books you would take to a deserted island?

You know, people have been asking this question for long enough now that there would surely be a good market for a five-volume encyclopædia of tropical island survival.

But to get more into the spirit of the thing, I would take

The Hidden Words of Bahá’u'lláh, a poetic work of short verses encapsulating the mystical teachings of the Bahá’í Faith.

The Compact Oxford English Dictionary, in case I needed to know what a word means, and because its magnifying glass could be used to start fires so that I could also read it at night.

The Penguin Science Fiction Omnibus and the Fictions of Jorge Luis Borges, for short stories that bear thinking about.

The Illustrator’s Figure Reference Manual, because I’d finally have time to practice my drawing skills, but I wouldn’t have any people to draw unless I had a big book of photos of people from many angles.

I didn’t get around to saying, but about a week ago I went to see the Straitjacket Fits.

I’ve seen them play once before, in Sydney in 1994, just before they split up. But they were the first act at the Big Day Out, and the sound guy had apparently neglected to make any preparations whatsoever. I think he figured that he could muck around with the sound while the obscure Kiwis played and get it right before Björk came on, not realising that he was ruining one of the last performances by the Greatest Band Of Their Time. Then they split up.

Not wanting to take any chances this time, I spent an hour or so before the gig talking to the sound guy to make sure he was up to the task of working for the semi-reunited Fits. It turned out that he had prepared the night before, but come in early anyway to make sure everything was OK. He had good credentials touring with big international acts, and he was a Mac user, so all was well.

The Auckland audience was rather oddly restrained, and seemed determined not to let anyone see them having a good time, let alone doing anything that might be construed as dancing. They stood in the mosh pit sipping from wineglasses and clutching their handbags. And when I say mosh pit, I mean the place where there was supposed to be one, except it was only me. I pogo’d hard, and they started nodding their heads a little. Eventually some of them caught on, but overall I couldn’t rate them higher than a four.

The band, however, rocked. The wall of sound was wondrous powerful, and Shayne Carter’s guitar was as expressive as a bucket of big-eyed jaguar kittens that could leap on you from trees and knock you to the ground and they were sad inside but the could fly and they had x-ray vision to see inside your soul. They played all the good stuff, and She Speeds twice because the audience showed signs of enthusiasm the first time.

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I have one cat one my lap and another one sitting on the bed. This is quite remarkable, especially for the cats. The lack the power to actually remark, but that doesn’t make it any less remarkable. Because this morning they were in Christchurch. Then they were put in cages and taken to what I presume must have been a dark and very noisy place. Then they were taken out and transported to a Different House. It’s clearly a house, and not all that different from the one they were in, but it’s Different.

Hatstand has treated the Different as something that must be investigated, and has spent the day trotting around the house and garden rubbing her cheek against bits of it that ought to be hers.

Tui has taken a more cautious approach to the Different, and engaged with it mostly by hiding under the bed and accepting cat treats. After a few hours of this she felt safe enough to come out and investigate he advantages of hiding in the wardrobe instead. She prefers to hide in dark places, and it as too bright under the bed. Now that night has fallen, she’s come out to look around, and been as far as halfway down the stairs.

Thanks Mum and Dad for getting them on the plane, and Lisa and Angelo for helping pick them up. And thanks to Darren for feeding and looking after them for the last few months.

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