Flame, Glass and Ink are Poems, essays, and reading notes by Stefania Joori Suh

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  • The Housemaid by Freida McFadden – Book Review


    Being a housemaid is no easy job. Apart from daily chores, one has to ensure that one is not on the wrong side of one’s employer and family for job security. Who says it’s a lowly job for little women with no or little education when it requires guts and wits to endure all of these and those that will jeopardize her sense of existence? It would be best if you did not make your maid angry because once she is exposed to the unkindness of her employer, her ire becomes Rage, which will turn her into something of a she-hulk.

    Here comes Mille (Wilhelmina) Calloway in the house with a secret past, trying to pretend to be someone she isn’t. Never will she be the one she wants to be because normal is not normal for her. Security is insecurity, and love is betrayal, or is it ever such? That doesn’t mean she’s Devil incarnate, but a being between an angel and a human, something of a Valkyrie, trumpeting one’s death, bringing the soul to the Underworld. In this book, you will find it hard to dislike her because she will not harm you if you do not betray and hurt her. The plot is intriguing in how you see what she is and why she is the way she is. That is not to justify any wrongdoings, but the motive is free from guilt, like Robin Hood stealing treasure from the arrogant rich or, shall I say, Incredible Hulk helping the good against the wicked? You will want to know more about her and the characters who are not dull from the beginning to the end. What a twist of fate!

    A few books are written about protagonists whose livelihoods are not as glamorous or glossy as many featuring women or men with high incomes and fanciful lifestyles because being common is a trifle and, therefore, not worth writing about. But that’s a lack of imagination and creative resourcefulness, which inhibits creating a world beyond reality in the likeness of truth. In that regard, this book is a fresh breath out of stuffy air. It is a thrilling admixture of Harrison Ford’s The Fugitive, Bill Bixby’s The Incredible Hulk, and Clint Eastwood’s High Plains Drifter wrapt up in a maid’s hide.

  • prompt 119 on reason to live

    What gives you direction in life?

    It’s always unexpected. This moment of Eureka of life. Or so it seems. Finding meaning in life is like searching for a lost star destined to be mine and yours when it falls from its journey to see you and me.

    I am still looking for my lost star, but sometimes, I want to give all up, facing stripes of existential dilemmas, crossing the vicissitudes of life that I don’t want to. At those times when I want to quit everything and leave this world, my eyes meet the eyes of my cats, who need my care and love. Then they come to me and rub their little flurry heads against my hands, legs, and heart, sending me the pulses of life all over my body, entering the palace of the soul.

    Small pleasures and simple joys keep me going like the Energizer Bunny beating the drum in an energetic march of celebrated longevity. My cats need me, and the need for care gives me a reason to continue this search for my star in life.

  • prompt 118 on my quote

    Do you have a quote you live your life by or think of often?

    Many a quote I admire, but a quote I treasure is from the Prayer of St. Teresa of Avila that I cherish in my heart’s chamber and fresco in my soul’s palace.

    “Let nothing disturb you. Let nothing frighten you. All things are passing. God is unchanging. Patience gains everything. God alone is sufficient.” Even if my faith in God might have led me astray in the course of existential life, the comfort that nothing will destroy me because there is always hope, even in the darkest night of the soul. Just as cloudy skies will become apparent and show the gorgeous azure firmament, what seems to be endless hardships will have an end, and they will stay not too long. Dum Spiro, dum spero. (While I live, there’s hope.)

    So, whenever I feel like reaching the bottomless abyss or being lost in a maze with no existence, I recollect this simple yet powerful prayer to bask in the sun of hope.

  • Night at the sea

    High waving ire beneath the mountain of tiding whirling,

    Darkness howling, ascending to light moaning, immersing,

    Gray somber fear turning into white foams of desire roaring, 

    The spirit in the fetters bursts upon the furious waters revolting. 

    The souls of the dead rising from the abyss and walking,

    Midnight, moonlight, and starlight upon the waters shining,

    The skies gaping then cracking as earth laying and embracing,

    The spirit with the clipped wings begins to flutter and leap rejoicing.

    Ghost ships appearing from the shadows of the moon sailing, 

    Panthom seamen singing the songs of the misty past echoing, 

    Mermaids and nymphs emerging from the deep desiring, 

    The maiden’s fancy fills her broken heart with joy, yearning.

  • prompt 117 on getting nervous

    What makes you nervous?

    I get nervous with people. Many people, a few people, or just one person of no or little acquaintance. Not because I am misanthrope but because I don’t want to make a fool of myself by opening up a conversation that no one may be interested in.

    I also become nervous when alone in crowds, making me feel like a visible target for being a loner that no one takes an interest in talking to. It’s not because of low self-esteem that is automatically associated with such a tendency. Instead, it’s a survival instinct not to be seen as vulnerable in public.

    Given the above, I am a paradox, half moon, half sun, north-west, south-east, making me neither wholly human nor entirely ethereal. Or I may be a changeling, a human-born, a fairy-bred, which makes me less nervous about who I am or may be.

  • prompt 116 on beautiful stranger

    Describe a random encounter with a stranger that stuck out positively to you.

    No, it’s not Madonna’s kind of Beautiful Stranger, but the one whose act of kindness flows from all her deeds and demeanor expressed to the other stranger.

    Back in the days when I worked full-time and studied full-time at college, my purse was often thin, which Benjamin Franklin would have disapproved as a sign of excessive spending. I had to sacrifice two meals a day and leisure to make a living as the family’s eldest child. One day I got on the bus to school, but it was too late to realize that I was short of money. I was embarrased to be a public display of poverty, so I was about to got off the bus crestfallen and misrable. The fact about me is that I am tranparant of my feelings and emotions, which are blatantly shown on my face.

    Then, a beautiful lady resembling one of those figures in the ancient Greek urns offered me help. With a gracious smile, she paid it forward with her money, and I could ride the bus to my classes. She sat next to me and started chatting with me. It dawned on me that she was an exchange college student from Greece and would return to her country soon. I thanked her, and she said she had been in my shoes before. We parted with smiles and hearts that are universal in all humankind.

    John Milton in Paradise Lost describes, “Those graceful acts, those thousand decencies, that daily flow from all her words and actions.” Hence, my beautiful stranger.