Six Sentence Sunday: Pelzmantel

As always, drop by Six Sentence Sunday to browse through the offerings and discover new writers.

Once upon a time, there was a queen. She had hair of brilliant gold. It would shine like burnished metal in the sunlight, dance in moonlight spears. Her face had the radiant glow of genuine happiness, for she loved the land in which she dwelled, and she had found her own true love... 

This is the end of one story that I know: a happy ending. But it is the beginning of this story, so of course something terrible is going to happen.
 

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Know-vember: Peg Aloi

My movie buddy! Peg and I have seen a lot of movies together, good and bad -- and have often argued about which was which (hee)! Peg is also a writer and academic as well as an amazing cook and baker (mmmm, deliciousness). I haven't gone to the movies yet in Galway, surprisingly. The good theatre is a bus ride away (I may eventually rent a bike), but I think part of it is not having someone to go to movies with in the middle of the afternoon (AKA the best time). Miss you, Peg! Hope you can make it over here :-)

1. What's the first thing you do upon waking in the morning?

Nudge the dog to get off the bed.

2. What's a song you might be persuaded to dance to?

Was enjoying "Get Down Tonight" by KC and Sunshine Band at the dentist's office today...but I like to dance and to all kinds of music, generally.

3. Where in the world do you live?

Albany, New York.

4. What's a great night out for you?

Great food and drinks with friends, a film premiere, a super hot play ticket in London or New York, a walk along a sparkling city street, sitting in chairs beneath a starry sky in the country, a bonfire, I am easy.

5. What's a great night in?

Steak and a TV marathon of The Tudors...or having friends over for food and drinks.

6. If you were offered an all expenses paid trip anywhere in the world, where would you go?

Good question...probably Paris.

7. What book do you wish everyone would read so you could talk about it?

The Children's Book by A. S. Byatt, or Harvest Home by Thomas Tryon.

8. What movie makes you cry?

The ones where sad things happen. [Ed: hahahahahaha]

9. What makes you laugh?

The Colbert Report, at the moment.

10. Are there fairies at the bottom of your garden?

I should hope so.

Know-vember: Byron Ballard

Yes, it's your Village Witch, the Appalachian wise woman, Ms Ballard. We first met at the witchcraft conference at Harvard and managed to keep up with one another ever since. I'm hoping Byron will be able to manage a trip over here while I'm in Ireland. Should be wonderful to have her in the land of the ancient Celts -- many megaliths and pubs to visit. Of course she would be welcome company any time, any where.

1. What's the first thing you do upon waking in the morning?

I lie still for a few minutes and imagine the day ahead. Then I get up, put away the futon that is my bed, open the shades at the window. And go pee.

2. What's a song you might be persuaded to dance to?

I will waggle my ample backside to almost any kind of music--yes, I have danced to Mozart's Requiem--but I love classic metal, trad Brit, bluegrass. They require different dances...or do they?

3. Where in the world do you live?

I live in the oldest mountains in the world in the southern highlands of Appalachia. From my window, I can see the third oldest river in the world. So here in NC, I feel pretty young.

4. What's a great night out for you?

A great night out would be seeing a play done well (a rarity), a bottle of excellent French wine, and something delicious to eat--all with friends.

5. What's a great night in?

A few friends in for high tea that morphs into us making dinner, listening to or playing music, telling stories and jokes. Perhaps a fire outside in the fire pit.

6. If you were offered an all expenses paid trip anywhere in the world, where would you go?


My first thought is always either Meath or London but since someone else is picking up the tab, I'll go a bit further afield. Crete or Greece, I think.

7. What book do you wish everyone would read so you could talk about it?


Whichever book I'm reading at the time. Schiff's Cleopatra bio is my current one.

8. What movie makes you cry?

Gad, I cry at all of them. I'm a big sap. So, Love Actually, Calendar Girls all that sentimental rubbish. I love it.

9. What makes you laugh?

I never tire of Hot Fuzz. I've seen it a zillion times and I still fall out at "NWA" on the door of the Neighborhood Watch group.

10. Are there fairies at the bottom of your garden?


Um, yes. I call them the Cousins and we have a fair working relationship in the growing of veg, as long as I remember my place. There is also a disgruntled djinn who can't figure out how to get home and has taken up residence in the shed. Long story, I'll show you the scar sometime.

Thank you!

Happy Halloween!

A gloriously spooky day to you all! I know I have been remiss in my Halloween cards for the last couple years; I have as an excuse the general madness of my life lately -- this year in particular. I suspect next year will either be incredibly dull and boring, or else more mad than ever.

I will not be taking bets on that. Let's not tempt fate, eh?

My sympathies for all my east coast friends who got a lot of snow dumped on them this weekend. I won't regale you with what a surprisingly warm day it was in Galway, how I walked out along the Claddagh and out the causeway to Mutton Island... oh, wait. I am doing that. Sorry! A freak October snowstorm. I'm sure it will be smooth sailing for the rest of the season...

All right, no more teasing. I remember well the painful jaws of the Great Grey Beast of February. Let this be the most snow you see until the thaws begin!


In lieu of an actual card, here's an old chestnut that I hope you're not tired of yet:

Devil's Night

It was called Devil's Night in the town where I lived
That veiled night before Halloween,
When goblins came out and devils ran wild
And some said that witches were seen.
We kids stayed inside, safe in our beds
And whispered of what there might be—
But one year we intended to see for ourselves,
My sister, my black cat and me.

The sun had long set and the darkness had come
To wrap all the houses in black,
When we crawled out the window and crept ‘cross the lawn
And none of us even looked back.
Though the wind tapped our shoulders and played with our hair
And ran through the leaves with mad glee,
We were stalwart and true like the heroes we knew,
My sister, my black cat and me.

We had never quite said, but each knew in our heads
The goal of our late night foray;
There was only one house whose black shutters and spires
Cast long inky shadows by day.
The house of nightmares was the subject of dares
For children much older than we,
But we knew we must try to sneak in and spy,
My sister, my black cat and me.

As we walked on our own down the mist-shrouded lane
The goblin cries rang through the night.
My sister told me, with an air of disdain,
That I should not take any fright.
'It's only some kids wrapped in sheets that they hid,
That they took from their mothers laundry.'
And we continued along with much knocking of knees
By my sister, my black cat and me.

The house loomed ahead with its turrets like spikes
Aimed at a portentous sky
The old shutters rattled and the chimney howled doom
But the wind smelled like pumpkin pie.
'An old witch lives here and she eats little kids,'
My sister heard from Katie Lee
And we were likely to die if we drew too near by
My sister, my black cat and me.

'I'll go up on the porch and ring her doorbell
then run—like the wind—quick away.
You go ‘round the back and give a sharp rat-a-tat,
Before she can come out this way.'
Her plans carefully laid, my sister then stayed
As I walked toward the back door slowly,
I'll admit I was scared and I felt ill- prepared,
No sister, just black cat and me.

As I prowled through the gloom I saw a bright room
And an old woman dressed all in black.
'It must be the witch,' I said to my cat
And shivered and shook in my tracks.
I wanted to run but I heard the doorbell
And I knew that my sister's safety
Was all in my hands, so we gathered our breaths,
Poor little black cat and me.

I made a small fist and raised up my arm
To deliver the thunderous tap
But I froze to the spot when I saw a dark shape
That opened the door with a snap.
'I know what you want!' I heard the witch say
But my feet would not move to flee
And she swept us inside the warm kitchen's light,
Poor little black cat and me.

My tears trickled down and I begged for my life
And the life of my little kitty.
The old witch just smiled and patted my head
And said to me, 'Don't be silly.
I've got oodles of pie and candy and fudge
And a gingerbread house so pretty,
And I wish you would share all the food I've prepared—
It's too much for my big cat and me!'

I looked all around and my fear dissipated
The kitchen was cheerful and clean
And the huge oaken table was filled ‘til it groaned
With more treats than I'd ever seen—
Pies of all kinds and cookies with chips
And a big steaming pot of green tea,
And in front of the fire a great big cat yawned
At my ravenous black cat and me.

I said, 'Thank you ma'am!' and plopped down in a chair
And she set a blue plate before me
And I piled it up high with some warm pumpkin pie
And a big taste of each sweet dainty.
I was feeding my face and telling the witch of our chase
When my sister's gaze fell upon me.
But it took little time before we brought her inside
To eat with my black cat and me.

So when you see a witch and your knees start to shake
And you're tempted to run to the hills,
Just remember the night that we wandered quite late
Seeking out Devil's Night thrills.
Some witches are good, and some witches are bad
But they all make amazing candy!
If you're sweet and not rude, they might share their food
With your sister, your black cat and thee.

Happy Halloween! Samhain maith! Wear iron and don't talk to pookahs. Let us remember those who have gone and whom we miss and share the bright memories with those near us now. Be well.

BitchBuzz: Good Witch/Bad Witch

My latest column engages with an old topic:

Christine O'Donnell: Good or Bad Witch?

If you were living under a rock you might have missed the fact that television personality and part-time poker of hot topics, Bill Maher, resurrected footage from a decade or so ago showcasing rabid right-wing American Senatorial candidate Christine O'Donnell, darling of the Tea Party and self-confessed non-masturbator, as she admitted to hanging around with questionable young men and "dabbling in witchcraft,", words which have rung across cyperspace via snark express ever since.

No, it didn't help that she was sitting next to Clive Barker as she spoke about it—clearly part of the monolithic illuminati of the Gay Agenda, which operates by making rabid homophobes kind of gay.

The dividing lines are clear: on the sympathetic side, cries for a moratorium on youthful transgressions (hmmm, when did we last hear that?) and a waving hand of irrelevancy.  Yet—perhaps not that surprisingly—among the wackiest of the wack jobs—i.e. Karl Rove—there is also a concern to "cleanse" their candidate to a pristine, non-masturbating, no-premarital-sex purity. In other words, they want her to clarify her "witchy" past and show contrition and a will to do penance (oh, wait—wrong branch of the monotheism) for the error of her ways.

Read more: http://news.bitchbuzz.com/christine-odonnell-good-witch-or-a-bad-witch.html#ixzz10RqdM2az

It has proved incredibly popular, generating a lot of retweeting and Facebook repostings, as well as a long conversation on my Facebook wall. The funny thing is I saw that show when it first aired and remember it -- though I didn't remember her specifically -- because of course Clive Barker was on the show. He appeared a few times; I think he's pals with Maher. The insanity around this non-issue really steams me. We have so far to go yet: it often feels discouraging.

The best cure for discouragement: hang out with people full of energy and hope! Out at my friend Mary's with a bunch of people for a full moon/equinox bonfire last night. Have you seen the moon the last couple nights? With Jupiter hanging out nearby? Gorgeous. Mary has the most incredible sanctuary and the most amazing gardens, too. Incredible to see the gigantic blooms of the moonflowers in the dark. She told us to take one home, so I did. Enormous, isn't it! As wide as the length of my hand.

Reviewed: PELZMANTEL

The Pagan and The Pen has reviewed Pelzmantel. I'm pleased they liked it enough to give it four tarot cards, too. I recommended my editor send a copy there because I know their sensibilities are in sync with mine and they gave such a nice review of Unikirja, too. From their review:

K. A. Laity is a wonderful storyteller. She does a great job of immersing the reader into the world that she has built. I truly enjoyed losing myself in the lives of these characters making me feel like a young child again listening to the fantastical bedtime Fairy tales of witches and castles and dreaming of being a Princess myself...

Read the rest on their site -- and consider leaving a comment. Reviewers like to know their work is being read, too.

I'm off to Pi-Con today; I'm doing a rapid-fire reading with the Broads of Broad Universe. We're doing a book signing party afterward, too. If you're anywhere near Enfield, CT stop in and say hi!

Unna ja Nuuk

Coming to Real Art Ways in Hartford, Connecticut on August 16th & 17th at 1.30pm: the Finnish film Unna ja Nuuk, which I simply have to see! Not only for the Finnish angle, but it overlaps with so much that I am writing now that I can hardly believe it. It's been making the rounds of various festivals since its release. Here's the description from the RAW eNews:

One day, 11 year old Unna feels a stab of pain in her chest - she senses that her beloved Grandpa is in danger. Unna calls her grandfather, who has had a case of illness, and saves his life. At the hospital Unna's grandfather reveals that Unna has shaman blood in her veins and that the gift to heal has been passed on to her. Unna is the only person Grandpa can turn to for help. Grandpa tells Unna where to find the shaman's book and magic drum. When it's beaten three times, the drum will move its owner to another time and place, and so begins Unna's adventure in the Finnish Stone Age.

Publication: Up on the Roof

I was pleased to find my latest publication in my mailbox after the end of a very long day today. I have most of the latest Societas Magica newsletter to myself for my essay "Up on the Roof: Understanding an Anglo-Saxon Healing Practice." This is part of the longer project on women as witches in Anglo-Saxon England, which I hope to be done with very soon -- which, of course, means that I am sick of working on it. This is mostly because I have been working on it piecemeal for so long. It was the project I developed while I was on the job market so I was not able to move quickly on it (teaching 4/4 and job hunting already taking up most of my time). So many other projects crowd together at the gate (still looking shiny and interesting) that she seems too familiar and less exciting. But she deserves a proper send off and with luck, very soon she will be in someone else's hands rather than mine.

Forging Folklore

I knew things were looking good when I found a parking spot right in front of Raven Books in Harvard Square Thursday (especially since it's right next door to Planet Records). There was even 24 minutes left on the meter and only an hour left to cover (meter time ends at 6, so I was set for the night). I had a little time to browse before the reception to open the conference, so I made the most of it, but only bought one book (!) that day (let's not talk about McIntyre and Moore).

I was surprised to walk into the reception and immediately run into Joe Harris, whose course on Eddic Poetry at Harvard was an important formative experience for me (especially being then still an employee and not a "real" student); plus he's a great guy, creative and thoughtful. He was eager to know what I was up to and we had a good time chatting. I hunted up Peg Aloi, whom I had found to be an Albany neighbor as well as co-organizer of the conference. She was talking to keynote speaker Ronald Hutton, who also proved to be charming and approachable. I did kid him about Kylie and he was a good sport about it though it clearly was not what he had hoped to have happen in the program. We chatted quite a while, although many other people also wished to speak. I must say Hutton was quite generous with his time and attention -- sometimes keynote speakers come in for their piece and then leave, but he attended panels right up to the time he had to be spirited off to Logan. Good form!

Alas, Cheryl, I did not think of bringing books for him to sign! Ah, well. Another time perhaps.

Peg and Hannah Johnston put together a comprehensive conference with intellectual rigor and a wide variety of viewpoints that often led to spirited debate. They are to be congratulated for their hard work and thoughtful leadership. Thanks, too, go to Stephen Mitchell and Holly Hutchison from the Folklore and Mythology program at Harvard who sponsored and supported the conference (and Holly took care of the innumerable problems that always crop up in the midst of things -- kudos to her!). Stephen is, of course, the reason I became a medievalist. When I read Beowulf and Njal's Saga in his course on Northern Germanic Heroic Traditions everything changed. I've not been the same since!

My presentation seemed to go well; I was so nervous! I'm used to giving papers, but this was a little different. I've played my kantele in front of groups, but never in front of scholars. And I sang -- yes, me. It wasn't terrible (or so they told me) and it fit with what I was saying about Finnish magic traditions and the music of Värttinä. The audience really responded to the curses in particular, but the love charms got a good laugh as well. I will perhaps put the paper up here for folks to read if they have any interest (though of course it will lack the sound aspects). I may be writing up an account of the conference elsewhere, so I'll let you all know.

Travel within New England usually provides a chance to see friends and this trip was no exception. Thanks to Minna, Steve and Bowen for giving me a refuge in the expensive ambience of Boston. Too bad we didn't have more time for kantele duets! Much to my surprise, Bilokur did actually show and I got to see his latest project which looks like it has a lot of potential. The set up may sound more like a joke (okay, so there's a rabbi with a surfboard...) but it has a serious aim even if it makes you laugh, too (as all truly serious things ought to do). On the way back, I made the detour to CT to meet up with the Boojums and Miss Wendy for Cinco de Mayo celebrations at Cinco de Mayo, where we regaled neighboring tables with chat about turn of the century New Britain orphan deaths, cemetery tours and any number of charming topics. Then it was off to Aloha Alcohula, the world's best and most exclusive tiki bar to see the QOE, Johnny 10X and Marko (fez-less but destructive -- we told you it was going to break). Conversation ricocheted from waxing nostalgic about D.O.T.'s pantsless performances and the transformations of the El and Gee, to picking on Marko and viewing the Queen's latest crafty print (wicked cool). Then Miss Wendy and I stayed up late watching Enchanted April and gabbing as we do. A lazy Sunday morning, then back on the road to home, to see how much email had piled up in my absence and to be fawned over by Kipper and my sweetie. I slept like a rock last night and came in to my office this morning to face a stack of work. Argh.

Wednesday, I'm off again -- this time to Kalamazoo for the annual pilgrimage. Whew! Starting June 8, I'm going to be more stationary -- no, really.