Showing posts sorted by date for query story of the world. Sort by relevance Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by date for query story of the world. Sort by relevance Show all posts

Tuesday, October 28, 2025

You Cannot Read Laura Ingalls Wilder's Self-Insert Mary Sue Fanfiction as a Historical Document

Ingalls Family Homestead, 2014
Wilder Weather: What Laura Ingalls Wilder Teaches Us About the Weather, Climate, and Protecting What We CherishWilder Weather: What Laura Ingalls Wilder Teaches Us About the Weather, Climate, and Protecting What We Cherish by Barbara Boustead
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

To me, the hardest concept to grasp about the Little House on the Prairie books is that they’re fiction. And to be honest, that’s because they’re not completely fiction! But also, they are! Confusingly for fiction, the main characters all have the names of the author and her real family. Confusingly for non-fiction, the characters don’t adhere to the timeframe of the author’s life. But confusingly for fiction, they operate in a similar timeframe. The stories that are told most resemble fanfiction, i.e. the retelling of a canonical story in a different way to achieve a different effect or result. And because Wilder wrote them about herself, I guess they MOST most resemble self-insert fanfiction, although even that isn’t quite right because the canonical story IS about Wilder. Does Laura sometimes come off better in the stories than she did in real life? Then maybe she wrote self-insert Mary Sue fanfic. Or should we just ignore the self-insert part? Then maybe she wrote AU fanfic.

Or we could just admit that Wilder invented, and is nearly the only author within, a specific sub-genre that conflates memoir with fiction. The other authors within this genre are the ones who claimed they wrote memoirs but then got caught lying in them. It’s interesting that Wilder chose to overtly fictionalize her story rather than push her memoir forward, but of course that’s the fault of those who wouldn’t publish Pioneer Girl as-is. BUT it worked out for the best, because her Little House books are much stronger than Pioneer Girl. And so back we go to the scenario in which Wilder invents a new sub-genre of literature!

Ingalls Family Homestead, 2014

All this to say that I did find it problematic that Wilder Weather sometimes seems to conflate fact with fiction, or rather, doesn’t always overtly distinguish between the two when discussing the Little House books and/or Wilder’s actual life. There were absolutely some acknowledgments, but the awareness didn’t feel explicit on a case-by-case basis. An example that stuck out to me was the discussion of the scene in These Happy Golden Years in which Laura and Almanzo see a tornado. Boustead writes, “In These Happy Golden Years, Laura immediately notices the heat and humidity on Thursday, 28 August 1884 (not a Sunday as her book narrative would indicate).” That reads as a clear acknowledgment that the Little House books and Wilder’s life are not the same, but it doesn’t feel like an acknowledgment that Wilder did this on purpose, or that perhaps she simply made no effort to verify a specific date because it didn’t matter in her work of fiction--it just as easily reads as if Wilder made a mistake with her dates.

The day is important because this is the day of the tornado. In These Happy Golden Years, Almanzo and Laura are out riding in Manly’s buggy, when a storm begins to form in the distance:

“Almost overhead now, the tumbling, swirling clouds changed from black to a terrifying greenish-purple. They seemed to draw themselves together, then a groping finger slowly came out of them and stretched down, trying to reach the earth. It reached, and pulled itself up,and reached again.
“How far away is that?” Laura asked.
“Ten miles, I’d say,” Almanzo replied.
It was coming toward them, from the northwest, as they sped toward the northeast. No horses, fast as they ran, could outrun the speed of those clouds. Green-purple, they rolled in the sky above the helpless prairie, and reached toward it playfully as a cat’s paw torments a mouse.
A second point came groping down, behind the first. Then another. All three reached and withdrew and reached again, down from the writhing clouds.”
Boustead notes about Almanzo’s estimate of the distance to the tornado that “[h]is memory was probably quite accurate; though Wilder tended to exaggerate distances in her books, Almanzo had a clearer sense of distance.”

Ingalls Family Homestead, 2014

Here’s the thing, though: that version of the tornado anecdote is from the fiction book. The Almanzo who estimated the distance is a work of fiction, his placement in a buggy with Laura as they witness the tornado ten miles away is also a work of fiction. There’s no indication that the real Almanzo’s memory was consulted for this fictionalized anecdote, nor that the real Wilder’s authorial estimates of distance were “exaggerations” and not purposeful components of her descriptions of her fictional world.

Here’s the anecdote from Pioneer Girl, Wilder’s memoir:

“One afternoon we saw a bad storm rising in the northwest. It came up for awhile, then turned and swung around passing to the west of us going south. The large bank of clouds was first black, then turned a queer greenish, purple color and from it a funnel shaped cloud dropped down until its point touched the ground. With its point on the ground and the large end of the funnel in the cloud above it began whirling and traveled southward with the purple green cloud above it.
Then a second funnel point dropped, touched the ground and followed the first, then another and there were three under the cloud and traveling swiftly with it.
The wind was almost still where we were and we stood in the dooryard and watched the cloud and its funnels pass on the west of us.”
The memoir narrative is clearly describing the same tornado (there’s even a photo of what most academics assume to be the tornado being described--it was a famous tornado!), but in this narrative, which is intended to be factual, the “we” is likely referring to the Ingalls family, and they are at home, since they stood “in the dooryard” and watched the tornado pass to their west. Unless there is some kind of correspondence or interview notes that also support the factuality of the These Happy Golden Years anecdote, it feels like an odd choice to discuss the factual accuracy of minor details in the fictional account when there’s a fact-based account that could be discussed. It would have been super interesting to theorize whether or not that famous tornado’s path could have been seen from the doorway of the Ingalls’ homestead!

Ingalls Family Homestead, 2014

Boustead also mentions the floating door that merits a story of its own in These Happy Golden Years, noting that it “stretches credulity.” The door story is told a little more sedately in Pioneer Girl, but as hear-say, not witnessed by Pa and Almanzo as is told in the fiction book. Whenever there’s an exciting incident in the Little House books that doesn’t happen to Laura, I always wonder if that was a part that Rose Wilder Lane authored, since she was the sensationalist.

Also, the Pioneer Girl anecdote would have better supported Boustead’s claim that the tornado they saw was THE famous tornado, since it’s much more likely that the family would have been in their dooryard on a Thursday than that Laura and Almanzo would have been buggying about the plains on a Thursday. Laura and Almanzo courted on SUNDAYS!

Tangent, but when I went to look up the tornado anecdote in These Happy Golden Years, I saw that it was very near the end of the book, so I obviously sat down to keep reading, and omg the scenes in which Laura is preparing to leave her home and family to move in with Almanzo, feeling sad and nostalgic and homesick even though she hasn’t left yet, excited about what’s to come while mourning everything she’s leaving behind--well, I don’t know if you need to be putting those words in front of perimenopausal empty nesters, because I cried so many cries for a Tuesday afternoon! It was beautiful in a way that I absolutely did not appreciate until this read-through.

Ingalls Family Homestead, 2014

All that being said, I was VERY interested in reading about all the historic weather events and patterns that occurred during Wilder’s life and that informed her books. It’s obvious from page one of Little House in the Big Woods that Wilder has a mind for detail and a knack for description, and it was fascinating to see how many famous weather events can be matched to their fiction counterparts just by description alone. It was also interesting to see points where the factual accounts didn’t match the fictional counterparts, and it made me wonder what other authorial purpose they were then serving, what Wilder might have wanted to convey differently. Why, for instance, would she have Laura and Almanzo witness that tornado from Almanzo’s buggy? Perhaps because, unlike in the previous books in which Laura is a child and her family comprise her other main characters, in this book she saw Almanzo as the other main character, so the most exciting events should happen in his company? Or perhaps because those Sunday buggy rides actually read as pretty boring, and this was a more exciting way to convey that the courtship is still happening?

I also thought that the discussion of the climate during Wilder’s time, both in itself and vs. our time, was incredibly interesting, and I wouldn’t have skipped reading this book for the world just for that info. It was heartbreaking to learn that those Dakota tree claims that gave the Wilder family such agony during their four-year homestead duration would never have worked… although Pa’s cottonwoods at his own homestead did survive. I’ve seen them!

P.S. View all my reviews

P.P.S. Want to follow along with my craft projects, books I'm reading, road trips to random little towns, looming mid-life crisis, and other various adventures on the daily? Find me on my Craft Knife Facebook page!

Monday, September 29, 2025

20 Hours in Ohio, and Free Doughnuts are a Lie

You do not have to work hard to convince me to take a trip with you, ESPECIALLY if you tell me that I can pick some of the stops.

So when the younger kid came to me with the information that the lead singer from her favorite band was going to be playing a concert in Columbus, Ohio--


--and she suggested that if we went, maybe I'd like to also do a little sightseeing along the way, she basically barely had time to put a period at the end of her sentence before I had concert tickets in my online shopping cart. 

And a couple of weeks later, there we were at this bar in Ohio!


Do you guys like to stand as close as possible at concerts, or are you calm and happy to stand at the back? I'm short, and I like to stand in the front so I can see, although a lifetime of this has definitely contributed to my current hearing loss and the front of the crowd, pressed against the stage, is the last place I'll want to be when the inevitable zombie apocalypse hits. Oh, well. I wasn't planning on surviving the zombie apocalypse, anyway...


Although Jake Ewald didn't play all the Slaughter Beach, Dog deep cuts that the kid had been hoping for, he did play one of their biggest hits, "Summer Windows"--


--so my own personal basic bitch self was satisfied:


I didn't know Ladybird before the concert, but this is my favorite song of theirs now:


The next morning, I picked our breakfast spot solely because of this TripAdvisor review that lauded the complementary DIY coffee bar and complementary serve-yourself doughnuts:



The DIY coffee bar was as indicated and was awesome, but y'all, the complementary serve-yourself doughnuts was a LIE!!!!! They did indeed have serve-yourself doughnuts, but you for sure had to pay for them. 

I think that TripAdvisor reviewer accidentally stole herself some doughnuts...

Ah, well. My doughnut-less but very en-coffeed breakfast was delicious:



Afterwards, I managed to snooker us into not one, but TWO sightseeing stops!

Obviously, if you're going to Ohio, you HAVE to visit an ancient Native American mound:


Shrum Mound is said to be an Adena burial mound--


--but as far as I can tell, it's never been excavated or even really researched, so I'm not sure how accurate that identification is. It's right next to a quarry, across the street from a housing development, and next door to another house, though, so probably its biggest claim to fame is that it wasn't destroyed the same way that whatever other earthworks were surely around it must have been. For example, there used to be a mound twice as tall at the intersection of Mound and High streets, but it was destroyed in the 1830s.

Here it is with me for scale!


Since it's roughly on our way home, I was also able to convince everyone to detour over to the Charles Young Buffalo Soldiers National Monument:



The kids and I have been here before, but didn't realize until we got there that back then it was open "by appointment only," so this is the first time I've stepped foot inside!

There weren't a lot of artifacts inside, but the signage was VERY informative. I didn't even realize until this moment that I didn't actually know what a buffalo soldier was!


Charles Young's story is very interesting, and I'd love to read a more substantive biography of him. Apparently, his whole life, during his education and his career, he suffered from systematic, institutionalized racism, and he just... persisted!


He did incredibly well for himself, and worked consistently to lift others up with him, but who knows what he could have accomplished if he hadn't been beaten down at every opportunity?


Racism is so depressing. Let's eat an apple fritter about it:


Will we be able to complete the Butler County Donut Trail in a timely fashion, considering that most of our trips to Ohio are for college drop-offs and pick-ups? 

I don't know, but I'm fully prepared to get diabetes trying!

P.S. Want more obsessively-compiled lists of travel spots and activities around the Midwest and the world? Check out my Craft Knife Facebook page!

Monday, September 22, 2025

A Robot Made Me a Cocktail, and Then We Went to the Circus: More Adventures in Las Vegas

 Look at my luck, having the perfect view of so many beautiful sunrises on this trip!

Of all the cool Sphere displays I saw from my hotel window, my favorite iteration is the Moon that shines overnight. I wake up pretty early even when my body isn't on East Coast time, so I got to enjoy a lot of the Moon over peanut butter sandwiches and canned coffee and terrible sci-fi novels. For a tacky spectacle every other hour of the day, the Moon Sphere is genuinely lovely and charming and magical.

We mixed up our usual schedule on this day, because we wanted to hit the Wynn buffet during its slightly less outrageous but still very outrageous brunch pricing. 

The prices genuinely are outrageous, but I feel like the buffet did its part to make it worth it:

The signage claimed that these decorations were made entirely of confectionary, which I thought was pretty impressive.


I'm kind of low-key addicted to charcuterie, so I was delighted by this section and made myself my own little charcuterie tray. They had black cheese!


And obviously if somebody is making bespoke crepes, you HAVE to get one!


Crepes, meat, a gourmet tater tot that did not live up to the hype, hot chocolate, and the kid has clearly found the sushi and dumpling section.

Chorizo street taco, ube pudding, and I also found where the dumplings lived!

The kid is a particularly adventurous eater, so she had a fabulous time trying all the new-to-us foods, and my partner had a fabulous time eating every meat on offer. I just genuinely love buffets, and although COVID nearly broke me of that, I'm calm enough now that when a buffet looks very sanitary and tidy and organized, I can get back into that halcyon happy place I lived in before I knew what a global pandemic looks like. 

I sent this photo to the kid at home, who was suitably impressed. She gets through a LOT of kimchee when she's home!


And, of course, someone special is 21 years old today, so we have to have some special desserts to celebrate!


We did not have to be rolled out of the buffet afterwards, but it was a close thing.

Better go back to our room, change into swimsuits, and spend a few hours lounging by the pool while we digest!

Later that afternoon, it was time to give the 21-year-old kid a proper introduction to the casino floor. None of us are really the gambling type, but when in Vegas, etc. etc.

The casino is actually a LOT less fun than it was back in the day, because most of it is computerized and digital. You don't even get to pull an actual lever to operate the slot machines anymore--it's all video style with push buttons and ridiculous animations! And, like, everything in the world is computerized and animated these days, so it's not even worth doing it for the novelty, much less the poor odds. The stupidest thing I saw, though, is how many of the table games have switched over to be automated and/or computerized. You can't even get human interaction while playing poker anymore! And I literally saw an automated craps game, with people sitting quietly around a pneumatic-looking tube containing dice that rolled themselves. 

Anyway, none of that bullshit for MY kid! My partner escorted her around to a few different types of table games so she could learn the rules and experience the joy of getting poor quickly, lol, but ONLY the table games that had a real dealer, because WE want an authentic old-school Las Vegas, thank you very much. The kid quickly became famous, because whenever she and her sweet baby face sat down at a table, the dealer would greet her while immediately turning on the "help" light to call the pit boss over, who'd then check her ID, wish her a Happy Birthday, and give her some free drink tickets. She'd play a couple of hands of whatever, lose a little money, and then go find a different table with a different game to experience losing money at. She'd sit herself and her sweet baby face down, the dealer would greet her while flagging down the pit boss, and the entire exchange would repeat itself. I'm surprised the pit boss didn't just stick with her, since he kept having to come back to see her every ten minutes!

In the end, she did not win a penny, but she lost 15 dollars less than we'd budgeted for spending at the casino, and she made out like an absolute bandit with free drink tickets, so honestly--I think we came away with a net gain!

Of COURSE the bar that we'd been waiting to try until the day of her birthday didn't take drink tickets, but whatever--the kid wanted her very first legal drink to be served by a robot, and so that's what we did!





The kid is actually not really a drinker, so she didn't like her Tequila Sunrise (I tried to warn her about tequila, but she was choosing based on which menu illustration looked the prettiest), so I had to drink it along with my own robot-mixed margarita, but whatever. Life is tough sometimes!

And that's how I hit the streets of the Strip with a drink in each hand:

The kid did not know a thing about Siegfried and Roy so my partner and I regaled her with the full story, talking over each other in excitement because we love horrifying gossip the MOST.

The plan was to take our very sweet time walking down to the Bellagio, as we had Cirque du Soleil tickets that night, so we spent quite a long time wandering in Caesar's Palace. We rode one of the only three spiral escalators in the United States, and admired every single god and goddess in the mall:


Gotta take a photo of Athena to send to my kid back home--she's her school's patroness!


The mall is basically the same style as the one in the Venetian--stores have thematically-appropriate facades, and the ceiling is bewitched to look like the sky outside--


--but I like Ancient Greece more than I like Venice, so I really enjoyed the vibe.

They also have a beautiful aquarium that has some cool broken statuary in it. Very atmospheric:


We were there specifically to see the Fall of Atlantis, a free show that runs on the hour during a very limited time period, so we really wanted to make the effort to see it and waited quite a while for the next showing.

We were there early enough that we got excellent placement front and center in what was actually a pretty sizeable crowd, so we had the best view of what is possibly the worst animatronic show that I have ever seen in my life:


I think most of the effects were kind of broken? Because there's no way it was meant to look that janky and stupid. It was pretty cool when the monster came out at the end, though:


When the show ended, a few people sort of clapped, but the woman standing next to me BOOED! It was hilarious. Like, it's fully automated--there is nobody there to accept your criticism!

OMG you guys. I just Googled the show because I wanted to know what the monster's name is. I didn't find it because I got distracted by a YouTube video of the show, IN WHICH THERE ARE A BUNCH OF FLAMES THAT EXPLODE OUT DURING THE CLIMAX!!! My show did NOT have a bunch of flames! WTF!?!

By the time we made it back out onto the Strip, loudly roasting the Fall of Atlantis as we went, night had fallen:


This was the first time we'd been this far south on the Strip on this trip, and the first time we'd been on the Strip at night, and I haaaaaated this combo! Further north and earlier in the day, there was always a constant low level of buskers and scammers attempting to sell you $50 photos or get you to buy their CDs or prayer beads or whatever, and a constant undercurrent of drunk idiots stumbling around, but honestly, it was basically any Saturday at home when you're trying to walk downtown to the library but there's a home football game that day and maybe it's also Parents Weekend. 

But dude, at night and in the busiest part of the Strip? Omg what a sensory nightmare. All the buskers had speaker systems. All the scammers were in giant costumes--who is wanting to pay fifty bucks to get their photo taken with a guy in a giant Bluey costume in front of the fake Eiffel Tower? All the tourists were drunk and standing in big groups in the middle of the sidewalk shouting at each other. This one drunk dude in front of us literally put his cup down ON THE SIDEWALK so he could take a selfie and when the big kid, not noticing, kicked it over as she passed, he started screaming, "THAT BITCH KNOCKED OVER MY DRIIIIIINK!!!!" and lunged for her. I was behind them, so I was all, "Well, shit. I'm about to get in a fight," but fortunately, his equally drunk but less violent pals pulled him back. 

The kid wisely didn't even stop, so I think she could have escaped him even if I hadn't been a half-second from leaping onto his back like a pro wrestler. 

There was an absolute mob in front of the Bellagio Fountains, but they were still pretty!


Another huge mistake we made was in scheduling our Cirque du Soleil show. I don't even know how much attention we paid to the start time for "O," because the ticket price and the seats were what we wanted, but dude, it did not start until 9:30 PM. Like, by 9:30 on the East Coast I'm already sleepy and getting ready for bed, and this was 9:30 West Coast time--by 9:30 West Coast time I've usually been snoozing for two hours! And I'd been enjoying all those West Coast sunrises by getting up at my usual East Coast time, sooo... 

"O" was beautiful and enchanting and thrilling and surprising and I spent the majority of it dozing on my partner's shoulder.

One day I want to go back so I can actually appreciate it, ideally via a matinee showing:


The fresh air woke me up a little bit, and the post-midnight chaos on the Strip was very slightly less, so I even had the energy to watch one more fountain show--

--before making the long slog back to the Venetian.

Tomorrow is our last day!

And here's the rest of our trip!

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Friday, August 15, 2025

Translating the Mayan Glyphs Really Brings Out the Asshole in Some People

Went to Mexico in 2022 and somehow didn't try a single "Mayan" rum cake, dang it!

Breaking the Maya CodeBreaking the Maya Code by Michael D. Coe
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

To me, the most interesting through-line of this book is how the actions of petty academics served to hinder, stall, and otherwise thwart the translation of the Maya glyphs for decades. I have some small experience with petty academics who care WAY more about their self-proclaimed role of thought police and their self-imposed mission to maintain the status quo of their field than they do actually progressing knowledge, and I am always on the lookout for others willing to spill the tea on that same topic. And dude, does Coe spill the tea! You need to get yourself some popcorn to munch while you read about Thompson’s career-long power play that served absolutely nothing but his own sense of self-worth. I wouldn’t have found this book nearly as interesting without that play-by-play of who tried to ruin whose career for personal reasons, who wouldn’t admit that someone else was right and kept bitching about it endlessly, who was low-key racist and who was high-key racist, etc.

Do you want to know how to call someone racist without calling them racist? Coe shows us how via his thoughts about another academic:

“Having met Gelb but once, many years ago [...], I cannot really call him a racist. His book, however, is very definitely infected with that sinister virus of our time.”

There was also a Nazi sympathizer, a German-born, Louisiana-based researcher named Hermann Beyer who had to be forbidden to wear a swastika at work, who was later sent to the Stringtown Concentration Camp in Oklahoma at the start of WWII and who subsequently died there.

Chichen Itza, 2022

Coe is also VERY (and undeservedly!) snarky about archaeologists--or, sorry, about “dirt-archaeologists,” as he puts it. I kind of got the idea that he thinks they’re stupid. What’s up with that? The digs and the exploration of the jungle and the finding bits of stela with carvings on them are the best part!

Seriously, though--Thompson was such a jerk! He was so convinced that the Maya were illiterate magical shaman ignoramuses that he wouldn’t believe that they had a proper written language, and kept making every peon under him say that the glyphs were, like, pretty pictures that spoke to your heart or something. And he did this for upwards of forty years! And when people started finally actually translating the glyphs anyway (thank goodness for Knorosov!), he did his best to ruin all their careers and talk shit about them and keep them from getting hired, etc. Imagine if you were trying to translate the glyphs and some of his peons were on your hiring committee. Or your tenure committee. Or were peer-reviewing your article. Or in the audience at the conference where you’re reading your paper. Or on your PhD committee. Or your grad school application committee…

Chichen Itza, 2022

There’s another villain in this story, though: that absolute asshole De Landa! I hate that guy. Like, yay I guess that he wrote down a sort of syllabary that researchers finally figured out they needed to use to connect the written glyphs to the spoken language, but we wouldn’t have needed that second-hand source if De Landa hadn’t, you know, BURNED 99.9% OF THE MAYAS’ BOOKS! He even wrote about it in his diary, being all, “Jeez those guys screamed and cried when I burned every book they’ve ever written. What a bunch of dumbasses.” Racism has clearly been holding back our understanding of the Maya and their language ever since we first met them.

Our cast of heroes is charmingly eclectic, including the previously-mentioned Knorosov, much of his work done while trapped in the USSR, as well as a female artist from Tennessee, and a homeschooled child. All of them, I think, illustrate the importance of different perspectives when trying to solve a tricky problem. All of them, notably as well, exhibited grace and the spirit of collaboration and absolutely zero ego.

Chichen Itza, 2022

As far as actually translating the glyphs, I was interested to see that, from what I understand after reading another book on how Egyptian hieroglyphs were first translated, they work sort of similarly to those hieroglyphs. With 20/20 hindsight, one would think that the Maya researchers would have leaned more heavily on the example of hieroglyphs, but I guess that everyone has to hobble their own way towards truth. Except for Thompson--he’ll just try to kneecap you and then when you fall down he’ll step on your neck.

I’d been hoping for an explanation or a reasoning for why Maya glyphs are so decorative, but Coe, perhaps because he’s studied them for his entire career and thus no longer sees them as so extraordinary, didn’t ever point out their structure as notable, even though they very, very, very much ARE. They’re so beautiful and fancy, and every glyph has its own writer’s interpretation of how it’s drawn. I LOVE it.



I did, however, learn a lot of interesting facts about how the Maya language reflects its people’s obsession with time. I was already interested in the Maya calendar and the Long Count way of dating, and now I know that precision of time is also inherent in their language. No imperfect tenses for you in the Mayan language--you have to know exactly when every action was, is, or will be completed!

I also thought that the focus on classification was interesting. Not only do you have to know what time something happened, but if there’s a group of something you want to talk about, you can’t just name it--you also have to classify it. Considering how much variety there can be in the construction of a single glyph, the language the glyphs are expressing is SO precise!

One more interesting tidbit: Coe writes about Naj Tunich, a cave containing glyphs and art that was being investigated, that “[t]he cavern walls, lit by their flashlights and photographic equipment, had many other surprises, not the least of which were realistic homoerotic encounters.”

Realistic homoerotic encounters, you say? Tell me more!



Happily, some of what Coe writes in this third edition of his book is now out of date. Coe writes, for instance, that “Mexican law forbids the teaching in schools of the Yucatec Maya tongue.” That is no longer the case. I’d be very interested in learning Maya, as well, but I don’t know where I’d even begin--I already checked DuoLingo, sigh. I’m also very interested in the four extant Mayan codices that De Landa didn’t manage to get his hands on. Trying to see all four will let me travel the world, although it’s shameful that only one gets to still live in Mexico.

P.S. View all my reviews

P.P.S. Want to follow along with my craft projects, books I'm reading, road trips to weird old cemeteries, looming mid-life crisis, and other various adventures on the daily? Find me on my Craft Knife Facebook page!