Lies About Books: Beanstalk

The summer is Most Definitely Not Over, but July basically is, which means it’s that time again – time for me to tell bald-faced lies about a book I genuinely enjoyed! In the month of July, it was my supreme pleasure to read the novel Beanstalk, by E. Jade Lomax, first book in her Leagues and Legends trilogy.

Beanstalk follows the life of one Jack Farris, budding botanist. Since he was first able to reach for a spade, Jack has been addicted to gardening. He grew potatoes before he said his first word. He was picking berries before he could walk. By the time he was fourteen, he was known to grow the best tomatoes in the district.

But Jack’s one failing, his greatest regret, is his inability to grow beans. He has tried everything; he has planted beans, grafted snippings; he has tried to grow them in new earth, old earth, in a greenhouse, in water, in flowerpots – nothing works.

So finally, he gathers up his watering can, a pouch full of assorted seeds and a backpack filled with earth, and a pair of gardening gloves, and he sets out on a quest to learn how to grow a beanstalk, or die trying. This is the story of Beanstalk.

Filled to the brim with gardening tips and recipes that use home-grown vegetables, Beanstalk is sweet and funny, by turns lighthearted and suspenseful, rich with Jack’s special brand of earthy wit and wisdom. I recommend this book wholeheartedly and without reservation, to all fans of all ages of the plant kingdom, adventures, and friendship.

 

The Language of Lamour

Hello and welcome to another wild week of wacky lies here at Factually Deficient! This week, I will answer a language question posed by the incredible individual known as Tohrinha. Tohrinha asked:

What does it mean to be the language of l’amour?

Well may Tohrinha ask about the language of l’amour. This is a long sought-after language, one whose identity and origins have been clouded by language itself.

What is the language of l’amour? First of all, the apostrophe does not belong in the phrase; it was added, in the last seventy years, out of a misplaced belief that the language had Gallic origins. Before the inaccurate apostrophe, it was the language of Lamour. But even this was not the original incarnation of the tongue. Lamour is actually a corruption of Larmor, which itself derives originally from either Lumber or Armoire.

While the Plant Kingdom is a diverse realm which hosts many different dialects and languages, there is one which only the most advanced of botanists sought to learn. It was whispered of, in the dank corners of underground greenhouses, that there were some trees which continued to think even after they were cut down, and proved their sentience through language. Rebel botanists passed secret messages about this language, that only the wisest of plants developed, and only the most daring of men could begin to master: the language of lumber, the language of the armoire.

It is unknown which was the original source for the language: whether these brave botanists spoke in general of the tongue used by lumber that had been chopped, or whether they rightly revered the antique armoire who was recorded as the first known speaker of this language. But either way, three things are certain: first, that no one has heard it spoken and understood it in over six hundred years; second, that any botanist who can hear and learn this language spoken in the wild would be esteemed above all others; and finally, that the Language of Lamour is the most exalted of all possible languages.

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Disclaimer: the above post is a pack of lies. There is no reason to believe that armoires originated a language of any kind.

The Team

Hello and welcome back to another week of incessant lies and unstoppable fictions here at Factually Deficient! This week, we take a more introspective approach in response to Rota’s question about Factually Deficient itself! Rota asked:

How many people does Factually Deficient Inc. consist of? Hmm? HMMM?!

It is noteworthy to point out, before beginning, that – contrary to Rota’s assumption – Factually Deficient has never incorporated. We are simply Factually Deficient.

As for how many of us there are: we are legion. We are many. We are infinite, innumerable, limitless.

Factually Deficient’s team can be broken down into three divisions.

First are the global experts. This includes a pancontinental contingent of botanists (both rebel and otherwise), geologists (both rogue and relaxed), historians (forensic and plainclothes), biologists (marine and terrestrian), and assorted scientists, mathematicians, linguists, and economists. These are the informed individuals who are veritable founts of the raw lies which eventually find their way onto our pages.

The second group are the researchers. Every Factually Deficient post – this one included – is researched in detail, over a period of time spanning between ten seconds and fifteen years, before publication. Our devoted team of researchers pore over every fact, statistic, and statement listed in Factually Deficient, referencing and cross-referencing, to ensure that they are all one hundred percent untrue.

Finally, the vetted lies are sent to the third group, the workers in the Factually Deficient Factory. These unskilled labourers turn the gears of the great machines which add transitions, hyperlinks, and the occasional joke to the compilations of lies, turning them from raw non-data into fully-fledged posts.

Only after a lie has passed through the hands of all three groups, handled by dozens if not hundreds of qualified liars, does it make its way to your computer screen, in the comfort of your own home, work, or subterranean cave.

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Disclaimer: Many of the above statements are untrue. There is at least one human being working for Factually Deficient.

Snattlerake

Hello and welcome back to another week of tricky half-truths and duplicitous deceit here at Factually Deficient. This week, I will answer a question posed by Tohrinha’s brother (or on his behalf, by Tohrinha – it is difficult to tell who was truly using the twitter account at that moment):

Question from my brother: what’s a snattlerake?

Well may you ask, young man, about the famed snattlerake. The simple answer is that the snattlerake is, as its name suggests, a type of rake, a tool often used by rebel botanists.

Its history, however, is much darker than most gardening implements.

Originally, all botanists could be said to fall into two camps: those who worked with the Plant Kingdom to better understand it (many of whom were, in their later years, declared to be honorary citizens of the Plant Kingdom), and those who saw themselves as conquerors, ready to stake a claim to the Plant Kingdom and to make it their very own. This latter group wanted nothing more than to subjugate the innocent and noble plants who made up the Plant King’s dominion, and would stop at nothing to achieve their ends.

The snattlerake, once a weapon so feared that mere possession of it was deemed a war crime, has fallen out of botanical fashion in latter decades. Once, though, it was the prime weapon of these darkest of botanists, in their darkest of years. Where normal rakes merely push plant material around, the snattlerake ensnares it, reaching out teeth and claws to gouge into any plant it touches as it drives the plant to and fro, making anything green helpless to fight against it.

Rebel botanists armed with snattlerakes would march out to war against ranks of plants, clashing in the front ranks against the most carnivorous of carnivorous plants and the most poisonous of poisonous berries. Those bloody years were long and painful, and saw an end only when the snattlerake was forcibly retired by the governing bodies of both sides.

It has kept its status, barely, as a rake, but it is a rake of the foulest order, and no self-respecting botanist would dare to use it in anything but a history lesson today.

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Disclaimer: the above post is composed of absurdities and falsehoods. There are no known bloody wars between botanists and plants.