Welcome to Marlinspike Hall, ancestral home of the Haddock Clan, the creation of Belgian cartoonist Hergé.
Some Manor-keeping notes:
Navigation is on the right, with an explanation of the blog's fictional basis. HINT: Please read the column labelled "ABOUT THIS BLOG." Enjoy the most recent posts or browse posts by posting date in the Archives. Search the blog for scintillating, obscure topics.
Enjoy your stay! There are some fuzzy slippers over there somewhere, too.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Wordle Challenge #5: First Line (re-posted)
I'm re-reading this and could not help myself! Once again, first line to what novel?
I had to double-check this one too (samw as 1984, I wasn't sure, not like I was 100% sure of Ulysses, so I wouldn't really claim Wordlemeister status for today's answers), but I guessed right. Tom Sawyer! I just started rereading Huck Finn in December--had even quoted it on my Christmas card (of my photo of the Mississippi River): ""This is nice, Jim,,' I says. I wouldn't want to be nowhere else but here."
What I especially love about that is that Huck says it to Jim as they hide out in a hut in the middle of a stormy night, with nothing. Though friendship and freedom and cornbread aren't exactly nothing...
Damn straight, cornbread ain't nothing! Okay, okay, that stuff about friendship and freedom ain't nothing, either.
But especially the cornbread.
Congratulations, yet again! You are racking up Wordlemeister reknown -- in fact, I should check with the Guiness Book of World Records, eh?
Anyway... to refresh everyone's memory of this wonderful tale:
"TOM!"
No answer.
"TOM!"
No answer.
"What's gone with that boy, I wonder? You TOM!"
No answer.
The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the room; then she put them up and looked out under them. She seldom or never looked THROUGH them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her state pair, the pride of her heart, and were built for "style," not service - she could have seen through a pair of stove-lids just as well. She looked perplexed for a moment, and then said, not fiercely, but still loud enough for the furniture to hear:
"Well, I lay if I get hold of you I'll - "
She did not finish, for by this time she was bending down and punching under the bed with the broom, and so she needed breath to punctuate the punches with. She resurrected nothing but the cat.
My mother was from southern Missouri and though I grew up in Wisconsin, mostly, we always called cornbread "johnnycake." She made it with a bit of bacon grease... Indeed, that ain't nothing, no how, no way! Makes ya weep...
The Haddock Corporation's newest dictate: Anonymous comments are no longer allowed. It is easy enough to register and just takes a moment. We look forward to hearing from you non-bots and non-spammers!
I had to double-check this one too (samw as 1984, I wasn't sure, not like I was 100% sure of Ulysses, so I wouldn't really claim Wordlemeister status for today's answers), but I guessed right.
ReplyDeleteTom Sawyer!
I just started rereading Huck Finn in December--had even quoted it on my Christmas card (of my photo of the Mississippi River):
""This is nice, Jim,,' I says. I wouldn't want to be nowhere else but here."
What I especially love about that is that Huck says it to Jim as they hide out in a hut in the middle of a stormy night, with nothing. Though friendship and freedom and cornbread aren't exactly nothing...
Damn straight, cornbread ain't nothing! Okay, okay, that stuff about friendship and freedom ain't nothing, either.
ReplyDeleteBut especially the cornbread.
Congratulations, yet again! You are racking up Wordlemeister reknown -- in fact, I should check with the Guiness Book of World Records, eh?
Anyway... to refresh everyone's memory of this wonderful tale:
"TOM!"
No answer.
"TOM!"
No answer.
"What's gone with that boy, I wonder? You TOM!"
No answer.
The old lady pulled her spectacles down and looked over them about the room; then she put them up and looked out under them. She seldom or never looked THROUGH them for so small a thing as a boy; they were her state pair, the pride of her heart, and were built for "style," not service - she could have seen through a pair of stove-lids just as well. She looked perplexed for a moment, and then said, not fiercely, but still loud enough for the furniture to hear:
"Well, I lay if I get hold of you I'll - "
She did not finish, for by this time she was bending down and punching under the bed with the broom, and so she needed breath to punctuate the punches with. She resurrected nothing but the cat.
"I never did see the beat of that boy!"
My mother was from southern Missouri and though I grew up in Wisconsin, mostly, we always called cornbread "johnnycake." She made it with a bit of bacon grease...
ReplyDeleteIndeed, that ain't nothing, no how, no way!
Makes ya weep...