The old story of Superman, first published in comic form in 1938, is known to all. Just like a book version of any story is preferred to the movie, our imagination fills in the details. Many people have reviewed the new Superman movie with flagging degrees of enthusiasm. Is there more to say about the comic book hero?

Christopher Reeve will always be my ideal image of Superman. Strong, good-looking and thoughtful, he epitomized a hero to me. I wrote a tribute song to him and featured it in my book, Still Rock Water. In the plot, a music producer sold the song to a television program making a series about the curse of Superman.

 Here's a link to the song I wrote: 

Video of Still Rock Water: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=36F7t1sFN1A

The curse of superman.

Much has been written about the so-called Superman Curse, especially after Christopher Reeve's 1995 tragic accident and his unfortunate death. Once again, tabloid writers drew comparisons with 1950s TV Superman George Reeves' suicide, with the hardships suffered by Superman co-creators Siegel and Shuster after they sold their billion-dollar creation to DC Comics for a mere $130, and with actor Kirk Alyn's lackluster career after playing Superman in two 1940s movie serials. 

Quote: 'If anything is demonstrated by some of the unfortunate history surrounding Superman's media career during the past 66 years, it's an amazing and mathematically proven phenomenon observed time and again in the physical universe. That phenomenon is called coincidence.' – Brian McKernan, 12/04

Like any type of curse, Tutankhamen's curse for instance, mankind loves to whisper stories of intrigue and conspiracy. Now, new facts have come to light about child actors in the Elizabeth stage.

A study by of a University Oxford academic shows that child performers were subjected to abduction, cruelty and violence. These street kidnappings were legal. The theatre owners had licenses to forcibly recruit children. These powers had been granted by Queen Elizabeth I and carried her royal seal. Shakespeare, who comes out of this rather well, expressed his distaste for this use of captive children for entertainment.

Laws concerning children have changed and their circumstances have improved. Or have they? Are they free to go to a public theatre and watch an exciting movie about Superman without the need to fear the man sitting next to them?

A section of Ebb Tide.

Here's the next section of Chapter 1:

A change, associated with a well-remembered hint of fragrance, flooded her awareness. Knowing a vision would follow, heartbeats pounded in her ears. She'd be safe on the train seat.

To maintain privacy, she closed her eyes. An internal aperture opened with a rumble and crack that resembled a forest fire. Hot wind stung her cheeks. A sucking sensation dragged at her mind, embraced her senses, and spun her away.

* * *

Without a body, ethereal as a spirit, I rotate within a tunnel filled with kaleidoscopic colors. While I surrender to the freedom of the void between locations, exhilarating freedom washes over my mind combined with flashes of movement and whirring sounds.

At last, the tumbling journey stops and I gain balance. I float in the air with no sensation of moving, rather like a passenger in a hot-air balloon.

In the night-time blur below, I concentrate to pick out details. It's as if the scene before me is restricted by a telescope with a haze around the edges. Houses spread along dark streets. Occasional lights send a glimmer through the trees like stars in the night sky.

Will I prevent a crime? Assist a child?

In a sudden rush, I'm sucked below. It's like hurtling down the steep incline of a roller-coaster without the stomach contraction.

My psyche oozes past a roof to hover inside a kitchen. Overhead light bounces off the shiny table. The smell of boiled vegetables struggles to overcome the scent of air freshener.

I zap into a woman's mind. The first knowledge I grasp is her name.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Can you work out what's happening?

Can you guess what the novel is about?

Here's the contest for this holiday weekend:

 First, read this short excerpt.
 
Ebb Tide

Chapter One.

Miles of suburban houses and buildings flashed past the window on the return journey from the airport. Lulled by the rocking motion of the passenger train, Liliha's mind drifted. How could she carry on after Oliver's murder? They'd only been married for six months. When her stinging eyes promised a flow of tears, she gazed down. Shielded from unwanted curiosity by her curtain of long dark locks, rapid heaving in her chest linked with the stomach-clenching spasms of sobs which threatened to explode. Her body swayed on the vibrating seat while she gained control of her breathing.

Finally, she darted a glance at the other passengers.

To stave off another tremor of grief, she tilted the moonstone ring on her right hand. The asterism, an optical effect inside the crystal, caught the flash of the star imprisoned at the beginning of creation. Liliha sympathized, confined as she was in the train hurtling towards Cornwall.

After protecting the ring with her other hand, her glance slid over the row of passengers opposite. Interest flicked in a man's eyes before he dropped his head.

Repelled by his furtive expression and scarred cheek, she acknowledged how unprotected she must seem. She shouldn't have worn the ring.

~~~ 

Judging from this beginning, say what you expect to happen in my latest, unpublished novel.

I'll give a pdf copy of Still Rock Water to a random comment. Make them as weird, funny or sensible as you like.

Birdsong is good for the mind.

Random sounds in birdsong work on our brain to soothe the hectic rush.

Far too often noise takes away your concentration—loud television, people talking at the top of their voices and the sound of constant traffic. But audio experts say certain sounds make it easier to focus. They include birdsong, which stimulates the mind and relaxes the body. 

 This has come about because, over thousands of years, people have grasped that when birds sing, they are safe.

The nightingale has probably the most celebrated song, with John Keats describing the bird pouring forth thy soul abroad in such an ecstasy! in his 1819 Ode to a Nightingale.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge's 1798 poem The Nightingale reads: And hark! the Nightingale begins its song. "Most musical, most melancholy" bird!... so his song should make all Nature lovelier, and itself be loved like Nature!

William Wordsworth wrote the skylark's babbling song dost pour upon the world a flood of harmony in his 1805 verse To a Skylark.

I wrote this poem in my garden several years ago.

UNGRASPED MELODY

The sound tickling my brain

Releasing remembered pain

With ungrasped melody there

At the back, under my hair.

Music made by nearby birds

Although by my ears it's heard

It strokes parts contained within

Tweaking inside with a pin.

Ecstasy for all to feel

Not through chemicals, but real

Pay attention and you'll hear

Every birdsong that is near.

So many different notes

All put forth from tiny throats

Composed in alien ways

Seem to burst forth in relays.

Each note strikes a different part

Of my brain and of my heart

The same feeling that's perceived

When huge fireworks are achieved.

The birdsong lulls me to relax

Pushing out all thoughts that tax

Snatches of memory drift

Other patterns of time shift.

Birdsong works because it's made up of lots of random sounds. There is no repeating rhythm or pattern to focus on. There is no other sound that can achieve the same thing as birdsong on our brain. Make it part of the soundtrack to your day.