the practical concerns of painted elephants: a dialogue
— The elephant is dreaming of the circus.
— No.
— No?
— That’s not a parasol, it’s an umbrella.
— What’s the difference?
— A parasol is decorative, or for blocking unwanted sun. That’s an umbrella.
— Then what’s the elephant doing with an umbrella?
— It’s a preventative measure. He’s concerned that the rain might wash him off the wall.
About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.
Haven’t had time to write up my adventure report properly, but in the meantime here’s a photographic tease to give you some flavor:
Also, I have a facebook author page! The lovelies at Doubleday have done a marvelous job setting it up & at some point soon I’ll have access to update it & comment & such myself, but not just yet. (Tim, I like you, too! I just can’t tell you over there. You probably already knew, though.)
Will be updating the website over the next few days, to add more circus info & such. And the art deco adventure report is coming, I promise.
I’m on a train surrounded by fog & trees. I’ve had an adventurous couple of days which I will describe in detail later, but for now, in case you haven’t seen it elsewhere in the wilds of the internet, this is the cover for THE NIGHT CIRCUS:
I said when I first saw a concept version it that it is nothing I ever would have pictured but I utterly adore it and this polished version is even lovelier. The art is by Helen Musselwhite, an amazing artist who works in hand cut paper. (I am in love with her floating island domes.)
And paper art is truly appropriate for the book.
I always expect Saturdays to be boring mail days but sometimes they surprise me.
Look what just arrived:
Bound proof of THE NIGHT CIRCUS from my wonderful UK publisher, Harvill Secker. They call them bound proofs, which is nice & easy & doesn’t involve wondering what ARC stands for, precisely.
The cover makes me swoon:
It’s an abbreviated version of the opening lines & the stars are shiny. And they’re all stars but the fancy camera had to go and blur most of them. That’s okay, it looks dramatic this way.
And this is the back:
meetings about nonconformist trees to which the trees themselves are not invited
They grew from the ground that way, so anyone who suggested that it was creative vandalism or a trick of some sort was immediately dismissed for being uninformed or unobservant.
The meetings were held so people could argue about what to do about them.
Someone suggested they might not even be real trees, but no one wanted to get close enough to check.
One person was dragged from a meeting by the guards after yelling that they were a Gift from Above and should not be touched.
It was a topic of heated conversation afterward, over coffee and stale cake, whether he meant god or aliens, which led to a debate about which god, but not which aliens. Someone pointed out they were more likely a Gift from Below since they grew out of the ground.
There were a lot of meetings, followed by a lot of similar conversations and more stale cake.
Eventually, they put up a fence.
It didn’t really do anything, but most people seemed to find it a satisfactory enough solution to stop having meetings.
The trees still change colors, though.
About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.
