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By AlmaDea (Almadea) on Friday, January 25, 2002 - 10:32 am
�Talula!! Taaluulla!!, Dinner, Talula!� the mama hollered out of the door. She heaves her wide skirts to the burbling pot, drops in a leaf and churns the stew with a spoon the size of an oar. �Come on in now, before I slaps you upside the head,� she added. In the gloaming skips and chatters her little child, round, brown, chirping� TA lulA ta lUUla,� with a tra lalala, widdershins she gambols in the blackberry bush, the bramble and the vine. Ivy twined round her head, she trips in the moss and the leaves. Behind her, the creature creeps near, whiskers and tail a-twitch, reaching for the acorns that lay in a circle. Talula stops. �Mister Shquirrel� she whispers, �you did not ask.� Wide eyes blinking, the creature cowers, forehead touching ground. �Squeek, ik,eek, chitter, chitter, squeek� nose vibrating, heart timtabulating , practically bursting out of its chest. Talula crouches, torn and stained skirts trailing on the rich leafrot, her little toes dug in. Brown eyes still, like a muddy pool, she reaches out. �shun�t be takin things dat are not yourn- not widdout askin�� she said. �Talooolla, Talula! Dis is the last time, Talula! You better not make me come an� get you!� the mama boomed, squinting into the setting sun and the dark outlines of the trees. �chitter chitter chitter eek ik SQUEEK� paws the ground sadly. � I commin�, mama, I commin�.� Her reed like voice vibrating through the leaves. Lips puckering to a smile, �Dat�s better, Mister Shquirrel. You can take wat you like. Goonight� Talula spins and gallops to the lamplight hollering, �Mama, mama, I�m a�commin�.� |
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By KateC (Katec) on Saturday, January 26, 2002 - 10:09 am
I love this, it brings up vivid memories of when I was a child and used to play in the woods by myself. And in the evening my mother would go to the door and call, and the other mothers did, too. I love the dialog with the squirrel. It's not only musical; it tells us a lot about Talula. |
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By Anonymous on Saturday, January 26, 2002 - 11:01 pm
This is a delightful, vivid piece of writing that conjurs up illustrations or animation, and fond memories of children's literature. What fun it is to read this in all three distinct voices. The beginning is very strong with the motion (heaves the skirts, churns the stew...I can imagine the steam swirling around that burbling pot) of the character. Something about it makes it feel mysteriously like fantasy, I'm thinking of A. the references to size and scale which have an Alice in Wonderland feeling of deliberate disproportion, like the spoon the size of an oar. Also, B. I'm not sure if Talula and her Mom are of the human, animal or make believe species...Talula gambols through blackberry bush, bramble and vine. Trips through moss and leaves. She communicates so well with squirrel, too, I have to wonder what kind of a creature she is...in fact, it doesn't matter b/c I LOVE her and all of your creation here, really wonderful! Imagine if any of us could have read Stuart Little without the illustrations to give us the size and scale...not having the pictures really engages the imagination. Gorgeous! |
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By Anonymous on Sunday, January 27, 2002 - 12:16 pm
Ditto. You have pricked all of the senses with this piece. I especially liked the different ways that you had the Mom call out her name. Draws attention to the workings of sound without being mechanical and without seeming like a gimick. I liked the Burbling pot as well - a perfect example of how you deftly employ different sound devices without announcing "hey, look at me! I'm using onomatopoeia!!" |
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By Katie (Katie) on
Tuesday, January 29, 2002 - 07:58 pm
The three volumes used by the speakers, holler, whisper and squeek, make this piece multilayered and very rich. Then, lovely secret details are interspersed like "her little toes dug in" and "the acorns lay in a circle." The details about mama holler, "a spoon the size of an oar." I found the use of the word "timtabulating" to be especially playful and satisfying to read and say. I wonder why Mama and Talula say "the" when they say "dat", "widdout" and "dis." Seems inconsistent but possible. Aside from sound, I'm intrigued by Talula's relationship with the forest. I read and enjoyed this piece many times! |
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By Anonymous
on Thursday, January 31, 2002 - 11:15
am
When the immediate images associated with the Tori Amos song of the same name fade, I'm left seeing a little black girl with rope tails and a blue and white frilly but dirty dress who scampers quietly through the bayou. Pale blue and green with dark, dark brown. It's an intriguing setting. |
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By John (John)
on Thursday, January 31,
2002 - 11:44 am
I loved this too, especially the three voices and the three scales of life. Mamma, little girl, and then squirrel. I'd say that you could exaggerate the scale issues especially, to great effect. Get all "Alicy" on it, making Talula perhaps not quite human, at least to herself for the moment. She is so clearly "of" the forest with her gambooling and chattering with the squirrel, I want her to admire her own whiskers and tail peeking out from tattered skirts. And likewise, I practically see a tiny jerkin on Mr. Squirrel. It's your story, of course, and maybe this is the last moment of fantasy before moving into a tale about poverty and hardship...which makes this all moot. It's just all so vivid, the wide eyed admonishments of Talula, and the great draped earth-magics of Mamma: I want more. |
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