… things were different in such a way that one might interpret them as being the opposite of our North American customs, thus leading to great humorous effect.
Which is to say, look at these swell illustrations from the Russian version of The Hobbit! A friend brought them to my attention. Aren’t they great? So strange, yet so familiar.
Looking at these images made me feel the way I did when I was learning how to read. The pictures seem to take on a greater weight and depth when the meaning of the text is obscured (for those of us who can’t read Russian, anyway).
The textures, the brushstrokes, the shapes, and the composition all contain a richness that is too easy to overlook with the efficient-to-a-fault eyes of an adult.
Also, hairy hobbit legs! You win this round, Russia.
On the subject of shaking versus stirring a cocktail, the standard line is this: drinks involving fruit juices, eggs or syrups must be shaken; those containing liquor and vermouth should only ever be stirred.
As a little girl, I had two guinea pigs, Yum Yum and Muy Muy. My cat Max used to spend his days in the cage with them in the summer when it was outside. It was one of those big, round cornerd, half-clear plastic things with a hole in the top. Max, a very large though seemingly boneless tabby cat, would plaster himself along one side and watch the pigs as they ate and bumped into each other and purred and did their thing. Every once and a while, they would drift over to his side of the cage and bump into him. At this point he couldn’t resist and he would grab one, roll on his back and kind of pretend-gum her to death, then let her go, then everyone would go back to their corner. The guinea pigs were sweet and trusting and had a very short attention span, sort of like goldfish are supposed to have: “Hey, look at the castle!” “Hey, look at the castle!” For them, it must have been “Hey, there’s Max!” “Hey, there’s Max!” Max knew he wasn’t allowed to eat them, so this scenario would repeat itself over and over again all summer long.
