New Old Things

Choose Your Own Adventure

I am thrilled by Choose Your Own Adventure books. The indulgent camp of them, the daring of a purposefully unwise choice, the reward for being oh so very clever when you choose your way to a glorious end. The best ever are the Heartquest books, a pee-wee harlequin fantasy series that so perfectly capture the pre-adolescent thrill of what might be for girls at that age. If you have ever truly enjoyed romance, a fantasy book, and have at least once imagined you would soon start maturing into strange yet wondrous mystical gifts, these are the books for you.

I so enjoyed Choose Your Own Adventure that I once orchestrated an oral book report/play based on one. I cast my classmates as characters from the book (hero and lizardmen, I believe) and would occasionally stop them in the middle of the action to have the audience choose what should happen next. Then I simply instructed the hero and lizardmen to act out the audience’s choices. It seemed a very reasonable approach. I had no way to know what the audience would choose in advance, so I felt it would be presumptuous and stifling to actually write out a script for anything beyond the first scene.

This totally worked for me. Even though it was my report, I had no idea what would happen next, making it in many ways like reading the book for the first time! My teacher and my bewildered cast may not hold that memory so fondly, but I sure had fun.

For reasons beyond my ken, Choose Your Own Adventure went out of print in 1998. When my eldest child entered school showing little interest in books, I went looking for Choose Your Own Adventure in the hopes that the approachable writing and interactive nature would help him engage. To my great disappointment, what had been abundant bookstore shelves of used copies had slowly trickled away to nothing, leaving my dream of nurturing the next generation of adventure-enthusiasts in tatters.

Then this last week, I found them again. These books are now being republished and are available at my local toy store. I bought three. These are new versions of older titles, but are all new to me. Before bed most nights, we’re now reading:

• Cup of Death (which includes trading cards!),
• War with the Evil Power Master,
• and Trouble on Planet Earth.

Trouble on Planet Earth, originally published in 1985, is about a crisis with the Earth’s limited oil supplies. The boys suspect hostile aliens, but I’m betting on corporate/government conspiracy.

Admittedly, adults who try to recapture this delight will need to suspend their interest in quality plot, character, and basically all tenets of decent writing. As may be too readily apparent, I’m very comfortable shedding the shackles of educated good taste and will happily spend time with any of you adventuring through Heartquest: The Talisman of Valdegaard.

Should we trust the mysterious bard with the liquid eyes that make our hearts flutter? Or do we follow the gnarled gnome warrior and his guardian cheese weasel?

Ah, bliss.

1 comment May 29th, 2008

Bigger Than I’d Hoped, No Smaller Than I Deserve

Single parenthood has changed my life in so many ways, not the least of which is an incessant humbling. There are so very many things which I had always believed could be mastered by any right-thinking, able-bodied person with the will.

Now for the unwelcome humility: there is an irrefutable necessity of time and energy that no amount of good intentions can bypass. While I know this about software development, applying the knowing to my self is very uncomfortable. I want to be the valued creative professional, the eager adventurer, fabulous homemaker and nurturing parent that I dream myself to be and can sometimes glimpse in peripheral reality. Not perfect or brilliant by any means, but at least thoroughly competent. But it just isn’t happening. I’m too tired, and I’m just too few people to get it all done.

As a result, I have a collection of items bigger than I’d hoped, but no smaller than I deserve given the amount of attention I can pay them.

Including but not limited to:

• The laundry heap
• A pile of unwatched Netflix movies
• The grass in the lawn (and some not in the lawn)
• The number of social invitations, birthdays, and parties missed
• The stack of untried, mouth-watering recipes
• Shelves of surely marvelous reading
• The amount of time I clearly need to remain single
• The list of unfinished deliverables for work
• The anticipated expense of therapy
• The stock of unused bubble bath
• My bottom
• The dose of reality I’m learning to choke down

And so, here’s where I get another opportunity to learn the Serenity prayer and realize that it really is more wise than trite.

Still, when I look out I know that I am not ready to accept the state of the lawn or many of the other items on the list. I know there’s no extra time, but perhaps if I just become more clever I can bypass real acceptance and head instead towards some sort of compromise. After all, that prayer is really meant to apply to an attempt to change other people, and not so much to a quest for clean laundry, right?

I think I had better sleep on it.

Add comment May 19th, 2008