I haven't blogged for a ten days as I've been reading a novel, The Cinema Murder written by E. Phillips Oppenheim in 1917. It was made into a movie during 1919.
The novel was great, the denoument resolved in the last chapter. Characters connected.
The detective only shows up during three scenes, and yet it is a romance drama that skims into an adventure plot centered around the loves of a playwright (It switches genres?)
enclosure:
My hawk is still here, "the hawk", which may be an osprey, has become a daily occurence. While reading the novel, most things went as they do, Donna went to the Park Street Church to sing hymns and I once again realized that at one time it was Kierkegaard or nothing while I wanted to write a novel, but this time I realized that I have read alot of Par Lagerkvist, who writes about the spiritual. Honestly, the minister at Park Street can go off into tributaries that resist being tangents, the text from old testament scripture was if you ask God for Wisdom, then all wisdom is from God. And we had dinner again at Boston University West, but didn't visit Marsh Chapel due to the rain.
The great love novel, sex is love novel, that I should be writing would have fit well into this week, and yet....not quiet enough?...it is on hold; I should have absconded some vocabulary from the novel I was reading, like "murmured" or "retorted", just to make it a work of art, which is what The Cinema Murder is, an artistic endeavor about the loves of a playwright that was read by Frances Marion, who wrote the screenplay to its adaption- the odd thing is that I write a webpage about "Lost Films, Found Magazines" with the premise that if the work of art on film is lost and there is no copy, then it may have been published as a magazine article in short story form.
Scott Lord:Silent Film
I haven't blogged for a ten days as I've been reading a novel, The Cinema Murder written by E. Phillips Oppenheim in 1917. It was made into a movie during 1919.
The novel was great, the denoument resolved in the last chapter. Characters connected.
The detective only shows up during three scenes, and yet it is a romance drama that skims into an adventure plot centered around the loves of a playwright (It switches genres?)
enclosure:
My hawk is still here, "the hawk", which may be an osprey, has become a daily occurence. While reading the novel, most things went as they do, Donna went to the Park Street Church to sing hymns and I once again realized that at one time it was Kierkegaard or nothing while I wanted to write a novel, but this time I realized that I have read alot of Par Lagerkvist, who writes about the spiritual. Honestly, the minister at Park Street can go off into tributaries that resist being tangents, the text from old testament scripture was if you ask God for Wisdom, then all wisdom is from God. And we had dinner again at Boston University West, but didn't visit Marsh Chapel due to the rain.
The great love novel, sex is love novel, that I should be writing would have fit well into this week, and yet....not quiet enough?...it is on hold; I should have absconded some vocabulary from the novel I was reading, like "murmured" or "retorted", just to make it a work of art, which is what The Cinema Murder is, an artistic endeavor about the loves of a playwright that was read by Frances Marion, who wrote the screenplay to its adaption- the odd thing is that I write a webpage about "Lost Films, Found Magazines" with the premise that if the work of art on film is lost and there is no copy, then it may have been published as a magazine article in short story form.
Scott Lord:Silent Film
