Introduction

alexandra.bolintineanu at utoronto.ca alexandra.bolintineanu at utoronto.ca
Fri Dec 17 23:55:47 EST 1999


Greetings and salutations!


        The last few days have been delightful--all those lovely, witty
postings, all those delicious recommendations, just before the holidays!
Thank you, thank you, thank you!
        As to myself, at last I have emerged from underneath a pile of
essays, notes, and end of terms exams, spraying dust and loose paper in
all directions.  My name is Alexandra, I'm twenty-one years old, a
Christian, and currently studying for my first degree in English and
Computer Science (yay Jacob Proffitt!) in Canada.  When I was young I used
to read with a lamp under the bed clothes (a rather large lamp, as my
parents had long ago confiscated the flashlight) and I had to pause every
twenty pages or so to let the overheated lamp cool off.  I've been a
voracious reader for the last seventeen years--anything from Grimm's fairy
tales to myth, Chaucer, Shakespeare, nasty Elizabethan/Jacobean revenge
tragedies, English and Russian "realistic novels" (the latter in
translation, alas), Sherlock Holmes stories, Dorothy Sayers, "historical"
children's fiction (Joan Aiken, Leon Garfield, Rosemary Sutcliff) and
fantasy (especially J.R.R.  Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Peter S. Beagle, Ursula
K. LeGuin, Patricia McKillip, Robin McKinley, Neil Gaiman, and of course
Diana Wynne Jones).  It is my steadfast intention and sinister plan to
become a learned pedant of the old-fashioned kind, nurturing a monstrous
collection of obscure knowledge about mediaeval beast lore and Norse myth,
and letting it attack innocent bystanders every now and then.  If I were
planning, a la Good Omens, to become one of the Four Nuisances of the
Apocalypse, I'd be hard pressed to choose between Cellphones That Ring On
Patently Unsuitable Occasions, Missing Library Books, Fantasy Writers Who
Mix Up Thees and Thous, and Three Identical Socks.

Cheers,

Alexandra



P.S.  Here's a reading recommendation to the list-- "The Lady's Not For
Burning", a lovely play by Christopher Fry, containing lines like "I live
alone, preferring loneliness/To the companionable suffocation of an aunt"
and "Your innocence is on at such a rakish angle/It gives you quite an air
of iniquity", and also quantities of most prodigally splendid poetry.  I
heartily, heartily recommend it.


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