The Trousers of Time

 Been rereading Pratchett again, particularly titles I only read once. In this case, I actually finished Lords and Ladies a few days ago, but my work schedule has made it hard for me to sit down and type a review. 

This is one of the "Witch" novels, set after Witches Abroad and right before Maskerade , in which the old witches run afoul of the new witches, who are also accidentally about to release the Elves. (The elves are right rotten bastards, more in line with tales of the Unseeleigh Court than with say, Mercedes Lackey.) The ruckus gets going, as Margrat is finally going to marry Verance, which means the king, as he does again in Carpe Jugulum, has invited a bunch of dignitaries. (In this case, Ridcully, the Bursar, The Librarian, and Ponder Stibbons come to Lancre from Unseen University. Which leads to a rather funny B plot in which we find out Ridcully and Granny Weatherwax nearly had a thing in their blossoms of youth.)

So, the new coven (of which Agnes/Perdita is part of) has been dancing naked by the "Dancers", iron stones protecting a portal to Elfland. For better or worse, the elves do break through, leading to things like Margrat becoming a sword bearing armor wearing queen, Nanny Ogg and Casanuda going to visit the Horned Lord, and Granny figuring out how to Borrow bees. 

It's quite a bit of fun, actually.  

The Holy Spirit can WALK!

 So, a friend of mine I will hopefully get to see however briefly in November posted a bit about Zora Neale Hurston, and her books on pre depression era African-Americans along the Gulf Coast. (There's a lot more to it than that, but that definition at least narrows down the scope.) At any rate, this lead to me finding her Every Tongue Got to Confess: Negro folk-tales from the Gulf States, which prints a manuscript she had assembled but never gotten published. (She had several published, this one seems to have gotten blocked/mislaid/filed incorrectly.) 

There are several categories of tales in here, and one of the appendixes lists which state and a bit about the narrators of the tales. Which is helpful, since the dialect changes by region of narrator. (One Alabama narrator talks about  "Br'er [animal]" quite a bit, while ones from Florida and Louisiana use the full "Brother [Animal]".) And, not all of the tales are funny, although quite a few of them had me laughing. (Indeed, the title of this post comes from one early on where the Preacher is getting the "Hallelujah Corner" all riled up, causing one parishioner to constantly yell "The Holy Spirit can RIDE!". When the preacher puts out the offering plate at the end of his sermon, the same lady yells, "The Holy Spirit can WALK!" In the mean time, the book title comes from the same section of Preacher tales, in which the preacher says "Every Tongue Got to Confess!", which leads to a skinny parishioner yelling, "I confess I wish I had a bigger butt!") 

More than a few tales in here involve someone outsmarting the Devil, and more often than not stealing the Devil's Daughter away from him and his wife. (This must be a southern thing, since I've heard a few idioms from my southern friends and husband about the Devil and his wife.) There's a section of Tall Tales that read like proto-"YO MAMA!" jokes. More than a few tellers use the "N-word" quite a bit, which kind of shook me. And occasionally, a teller has a device they use that clues you in to who is telling it. (The most noticeable one is the gent who ends his tales with "And that when I put on my hat and left.") 

While I enjoyed this collection, and indeed will likely be telling a few of these as occasions arise, the forward by John Edgar Wideman has me wanting to do more reading into the era this came out of.  Seems Ms Hurston came out of the Harlem Renaissance, with a white sponsor who wanted to edit the tales as she saw fit (make the black folks look like noble savages or some such) and an African-American mentor who wanted to edit them to make the the tellers come off as good as white. Indeed, his talk of the Harlem Renaissance reminded me quite a bit of David Carter's book on Stonewall wherein the poor folks got the ball rolling, and the middle class stepped in to try to shape it to better benefit them. (That's a gross oversimplification, but close enough.)

Any rate, a good read filled with good stories.