I didn't intend to blog every day for Banned Book Week, but here I am. Blogging. Every day. Today I am doing my part to encourage vulgarity and immorality (snort) by giving away a classic that has been banned or challenged since its publication. The winner will select any TWO books they want from the American Library Association's list of Banned and Challenged Classics, which are the following:
. The Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald
2. The Catcher in the Rye, by J.D. Salinger
3. The Grapes of Wrath, by John Steinbeck
4. To Kill a Mockingbird, by Harper Lee
5. The Color Purple, by Alice Walker
6. Ulysses, by James Joyce
7. Beloved, by Toni Morrison
8. The Lord of the Flies, by William Golding
9. 1984, by George Orwell
11. Lolita, by Vladmir Nabokov
12. Of Mice and Men, by John Steinbeck
15. Catch-22, by Joseph Heller
16. Brave New World, by Aldous Huxley
17. Animal Farm, by George Orwell
18. The Sun Also Rises, by Ernest Hemingway
19. As I Lay Dying, by William Faulkner
20. A Farewell to Arms, by Ernest Hemingway
23. Their Eyes Were Watching God, by Zora Neale Hurston
24. Invisible Man, by Ralph Ellison
25. Song of Solomon, by Toni Morrison
26. Gone with the Wind, by Margaret Mitchell
27. Native Son, by Richard Wright
28. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, by Ken Kesey
29. Slaughterhouse-Five, by Kurt Vonnegut
30. For Whom the Bell Tolls, by Ernest Hemingway
33. The Call of the Wild, by Jack London
36. Go Tell it on the Mountain, by James Baldwin
38. All the King's Men, by Robert Penn Warren
40. The Lord of the Rings, by J.R.R. Tolkien
45. The Jungle, by Upton Sinclair
48. Lady Chatterley's Lover, by D.H. Lawrence
49. A Clockwork Orange, by Anthony Burgess
50. The Awakening, by Kate Chopin
53. In Cold Blood, by Truman Capote
55. The Satanic Verses, by Salman Rushdie
57. Sophie's Choice, by William Styron
64. Sons and Lovers, by D.H. Lawrence
66. Cat's Cradle, by Kurt Vonnegut
67. A Separate Peace, by John Knowles
73. Naked Lunch, by William S. Burroughs
74. Brideshead Revisited, by Evelyn Waugh
75. Women in Love, by D.H. Lawrence
80. The Naked and the Dead, by Norman Mailer
84. Tropic of Cancer, by Henry Miller
88. An American Tragedy, by Theodore Dreiser
97. Rabbit, Run, by John Updike
So! What must you do to win these dangerous and vile tomes? Leave a comment (with your email address, should you win). I will use random.org to pick a random number, and that commenter will be the winner!
ALSO. I will tweet about this giveaway periodically until it ends on Saturday, October 1st (@deadwhiteguys). When I do, everyone who RETWEETS will get an extra entry into the random drawing. Every retweet= an extra entry.
Summary: Win books mommy wouldn't want you to read by leaving a comment. For extra entries (and better chances of winning), retweet when I mention the giveaway on Twitter.
Hokay. Go!
ETA- This giveaway IS international. Much love to my hommies overseas. Etc.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Banned Book Week: Can Your Kids Read Whatevs?
There's been a bit of discussion in this year's banned book week about children and their access to books. Ben over at Dead End Follies did a post that's sparked a bit of discussion, and there was that kerfuffle in Missouri about the banning/not banning/pseudo-banning of Slaughterhouse Five, along with a bunch of other school-related bannings earlier in the year.
So here's the thing. Monitoring what your kids, YOUR kids (not other people's kids), read, is not the same thing as banning books. Lemmesplain. In my brain, banning a book is removing it from stores or libraries so the public cannot read it. This includes school libraries. You're making a moral judgement for other adults or other adults' kids. This? This is wrong. But when I tell my ten year old that s/he isn't old enough to read American Psycho or Naked Lunch or whatever, and I take it away from them (to be given back at whatever age I deem appropriate, if they're still interested), that's not the same thing as book banning. It's parenting.
In discussing this with other bloggers on Twitter and elsewhere, the argument arises that books are self-regulating, and that a kid who is too young for a certain book won't be interested in it, and it they do get hold of it, won't get the mature themes. This isn't necessarily true. I picked up a book from my mom's bedside table when I was about 8 that ended up being about mob violence and had a graphic rape scene that I FULLY understood. I had nightmares for weeks. As an adult, I can say with complete honesty that I wish my mother had noticed I'd taken the book and hadn't let me read it. We did have the sort of relationship where I could have gone to her and talked about it, but I didn't know what to say, and she couldn't take those images away just by listening to an eight year old talk about it.
I'm not saying this is black and white. There are books that I wouldn't let one kid read that I would let another kid of the same age read, based on mental and emotional maturity. And it's true that the same themes are present on television and in movies- that my kids won't be watching until I'm comfortable with it. And there is ugliness in the world, but that doesn't mean young children are emotionally or mentally capable of understanding or dealing with it. And just because violence and rape and (whatever thing you don't want a kid reading about, insert your deal here) exists in the world and they will encounter it eventually, that doesn't mean I have to be the conduit through which they experience it.
All of this to say, I would never impose my ideas about what's appropriate for a kid to read on another parent. And if you plan on (or already do) let your kids read any and everything at any and every age, rock on. I'm sure you do it responsibly and thoughtfully. No one is out to do badly by their children. And I would never EVER march into a school, store or library armed with my personal convictions about what is ok and demand a book be removed from the shelves or curriculum. Teachers who handle hundreds of kids in their life (as opposed to my...two...) know better about what kids at [insert age] can handle than I claim to. But my house is floor to ceiling books, and a curious nine year old might just grab whatever because it has an interesting cover and they're bored. If that thing they grab happens to be Lady Chatterley's Lover, I'm taking it away for now and quickly giving them something more age-appropriate. That doesn't make me a book banner. It just makes me a parent...maybe a strict one, but that's not wrong.
*To clarify- my issues are mainly with graphic sexual content and violence. I wouldn't ever stop my child from reading something because of the ideas presented. For example, my husband and I are Christians, but I wouldn't stop them from reading something about atheism or whatever. I think Sarah Palin is nuts, but I wouldn't stop my kid from reading her books...though I would cry a little [but again, this is personal- if your family is Jewish and you don't want your kids reading the philosophy of anti-semitism, I'm not going to argue with you]. The exploration of ideas does not, in my opinion, have an age appropriate standard. The exposure to graphic violence or erotic content does.
So here's the thing. Monitoring what your kids, YOUR kids (not other people's kids), read, is not the same thing as banning books. Lemmesplain. In my brain, banning a book is removing it from stores or libraries so the public cannot read it. This includes school libraries. You're making a moral judgement for other adults or other adults' kids. This? This is wrong. But when I tell my ten year old that s/he isn't old enough to read American Psycho or Naked Lunch or whatever, and I take it away from them (to be given back at whatever age I deem appropriate, if they're still interested), that's not the same thing as book banning. It's parenting.
In discussing this with other bloggers on Twitter and elsewhere, the argument arises that books are self-regulating, and that a kid who is too young for a certain book won't be interested in it, and it they do get hold of it, won't get the mature themes. This isn't necessarily true. I picked up a book from my mom's bedside table when I was about 8 that ended up being about mob violence and had a graphic rape scene that I FULLY understood. I had nightmares for weeks. As an adult, I can say with complete honesty that I wish my mother had noticed I'd taken the book and hadn't let me read it. We did have the sort of relationship where I could have gone to her and talked about it, but I didn't know what to say, and she couldn't take those images away just by listening to an eight year old talk about it.
I'm not saying this is black and white. There are books that I wouldn't let one kid read that I would let another kid of the same age read, based on mental and emotional maturity. And it's true that the same themes are present on television and in movies- that my kids won't be watching until I'm comfortable with it. And there is ugliness in the world, but that doesn't mean young children are emotionally or mentally capable of understanding or dealing with it. And just because violence and rape and (whatever thing you don't want a kid reading about, insert your deal here) exists in the world and they will encounter it eventually, that doesn't mean I have to be the conduit through which they experience it.
All of this to say, I would never impose my ideas about what's appropriate for a kid to read on another parent. And if you plan on (or already do) let your kids read any and everything at any and every age, rock on. I'm sure you do it responsibly and thoughtfully. No one is out to do badly by their children. And I would never EVER march into a school, store or library armed with my personal convictions about what is ok and demand a book be removed from the shelves or curriculum. Teachers who handle hundreds of kids in their life (as opposed to my...two...) know better about what kids at [insert age] can handle than I claim to. But my house is floor to ceiling books, and a curious nine year old might just grab whatever because it has an interesting cover and they're bored. If that thing they grab happens to be Lady Chatterley's Lover, I'm taking it away for now and quickly giving them something more age-appropriate. That doesn't make me a book banner. It just makes me a parent...maybe a strict one, but that's not wrong.
*To clarify- my issues are mainly with graphic sexual content and violence. I wouldn't ever stop my child from reading something because of the ideas presented. For example, my husband and I are Christians, but I wouldn't stop them from reading something about atheism or whatever. I think Sarah Palin is nuts, but I wouldn't stop my kid from reading her books...though I would cry a little [but again, this is personal- if your family is Jewish and you don't want your kids reading the philosophy of anti-semitism, I'm not going to argue with you]. The exploration of ideas does not, in my opinion, have an age appropriate standard. The exposure to graphic violence or erotic content does.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Banned Book Week's Virtual Read Out; Read That Shiz With Your Lips!
Rebecca at The Book Lady's Blog turned me onto Banned Book Week's Virtual Read Out, wherein myriad bookish types take to the interwebz to do lip service to their favorite banned tomes. I decided to do an excerpt from Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell, which has been banned because of the racist language. It heart this book's face with such intensity that I named my oldest son Rhett, so I thought it was only fitting to champion it for Banned Book Week, or as I like to call it: The Week Were We All Metaphorically Pull Down Our Pants And Moon the Book Banning Idiots Worldwide.
Anywoot, I selected one of my favorite parts of the beginning of the book, wherein Rhett explains to gathered Southerners at a party how the South is doomed to lose the Civil War, if war does come. It comes. They lose. Sorry if that was a spoiler for you. So, sit back for 120 seconds and let me regale you with a tale.
Anywoot, I selected one of my favorite parts of the beginning of the book, wherein Rhett explains to gathered Southerners at a party how the South is doomed to lose the Civil War, if war does come. It comes. They lose. Sorry if that was a spoiler for you. So, sit back for 120 seconds and let me regale you with a tale.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Admit It. You Banned it Because of the Big Words.
"The books that the world calls immoral are the books that show the world its own shame." -Oscar Wilde
"Don't join the book burners. Do not think you are going to conceal thoughts by concealing evidence that they ever existed." -Eisenhower
"Don't join the book burners. Do not think you are going to conceal thoughts by concealing evidence that they ever existed." -Eisenhower
YAY BANNED BOOK WEEK! Hoozah! Let's run wild, let's do shots, let's...read...stuff. I usually don't really commemorate BBW because I read whatevs the hell I want and I dare you to stop me BUT. I've noticed an upswing in the book-banning jank happening around the world- either people are going crazy, or the five people who are crazy are getting more press. Either way, let's put a stop to the madness. I thought a good way to do that would be to outline some of the stupider book bannings that have happened, in a (not so) thinly veiled attempt at pointing out how book banning in general is. Well. Bullshit.
American Heritage Dictionary. This was banned in 1978 by a library in Missouri (SHOCK ME SHOCK ME WITH THAT DEVIANT BEHAVIOR- read about Missouri's recent book banning silliness here). The reasons? It has naughty words in it, including "balls."
Fahrenheit 451. Banned in 1998 by a school board in Mississippi because of the word "god damn." Obviously, the parent who complained did not catch the irony. He was too busy being a dumb ass.
The Great Gatsby. Banned in 1987 by the Baptist College in South Carolina because it contains cursing and sexual references. That's right, folks. College students (adults) are not to read about things said and done by other adults to and/or with other consenting adults.
To Kill a Mockingbird. This book told from a small girl's point of view has been banned or challenged in New York, Minnesota, Illinois, Missouri, Mississippi, Tennessee, and other states, in every decade since publication. My favorite is when Lindale, Texas, banned the book in 1996 (?!?!) because it "conflicts with the values of the community." With which values does this book conflict, I wonder? Hating people of other colors? Hating women and therefore small girls? Associating with lawyers?
Animal Farm. Challenged several times in several states because"Orwell was a communist." Um. This makes me wonder if the people challenging the books actually...read...them? I would have thought this one would've made a great McCarthy-era propaganda tool. THE LOST OPPORTUNITIES, PEOPLE.
The Lord of the Rings. Burned (people still do this, apparently) in 2001 in New Mexico for being "satanic." Despite the fact that Tolkien was a professed Christian who helped convert C.S. Lewis, and that the books are an admitted examination of the Nazi invasion. This is like burning the Bible because it has naughty bits, all in Jesus' name. A Wrinkle in Time has also been banned because it contains "witchcraft," despite the book's obviously Christian message.
Brideshead Revisited. In 2005, an Alabama representative presented a bill that would ban the use of public funds for the purchasing of books with positively portrayed gay characters, or that promoted homosexuality as "an acceptable lifestyle," which include this book. Thankfully, the bill died, but egads. I guess this is based on the idea that you can "catch gay" from reading about people who are gay. You know, like how you can catch straight. Oh. Wait.
Alice in Wonderland. Ok, this isn't in America, but this one was banned in China in 1931 because it portrays animals that talk. And that? That insults humans. BAN IT, BIOTCH, less humanity's self esteem suffers!
Fanny Hill. Banned in 1963 for obscenity. I'm sorry, banning anything published in the 1700's for being obscene is just...silly. Oh no! A PETTICOAT! RUUUNNNNN!
Those are just some of my favorites. Obviously, the majority of book banners don't actually read what they're so worked about about getting rid of. Either that, or their sense of humor is FULL TILT.
(Commences with word vomit) As a Christian myself, it enrages me how much of these bans come from other Christians- as if our purpose here isn't to feed the hungry or fight oppression and injustice or be a light in a dark place, but is to monitor what everyone else puts on their bedside table. As if someone is going to say, "Gee, now that you've destroyed my freedoms by snatching away my copy of Lady Chatterley's Lover, I'm going to start coming to your church! MY SAVIOR!" GET a HOBBY. (End of word vomit)
*Calms down.* So, what's your favorite banned book, either because it was banned for ridiculous reasons, or just because you loved it?
Friday, September 23, 2011
Sad Bastards: Mark Twain
Hey, remember when I did this feature about classic authors and the Five Things You Should Know About Them so you can sound smart at parties? That is, if you party with people who care about such things. WHICH YOU SHOULD.
Why did I stop doing this? I dunno. Time for a resurrection! The Sad Bastards Feature Returneth! And since I just finished Huck Finn, we're gonna (re)start with Mark Twain. Here are Five Things etc etc...
1. His name ain't Mark Twain. Most people do know this- it's probably a fact stashed away in the dusty corners of your they-made-me-learn-this-in-6th-grade mind. His name was Samuel Clemens. Mark Twain was a pen named he got from his time as a steamboat pilot on the Mississippi. "Mark twain" was a leadsman's call that indicated the water was at least 12 feet above the lead (depth sounder). It basically means "safe water" or "steer that big ass boat over here and you won't die much."
2. He was born on the day Halley's comet came 'round, and predicted he would die when it returned. In fact, he died the day after it's return because he was SECRETLY A WIZARD, HARRY. Twain also had a dream detailing the death of his brother in a steamboat explosion, which happened a month later. I mean, look at those whiskers: obviously a warlock of some kind. (edited to correct my stupid-ass misspelling of the comet's name)
3. He loved the ladies. Twain supported women's suffrage before it was cool. Damn hipster.
4. Twain was bad with money. Like, BAD with MONEY. He lost almost all his profits from his books' publications, along with all of his wife's money, in investments that went south. And not cute, mint-julep-on-the-veranda south, but like icky, icky south.
5. Twain was a member of the American Anti-Imperialist League. This was the opposite opinion he held as a young man, when he avidly supported American Imperialism. Twain is living (except he's not living) proof that the saying "if you're not a Democrat at 16, you have no heart; if you're not a Republican at 30, you have no brain" is, in fact, stupid.
If your party-going friends look suspicious of your factoid knowledge, quickly rattle of something about Twain having a degree from Oxford and about how he was a confused deist who frequently contradicted himself when discussing his religious beliefs. That should shut them up.
Why did I stop doing this? I dunno. Time for a resurrection! The Sad Bastards Feature Returneth! And since I just finished Huck Finn, we're gonna (re)start with Mark Twain. Here are Five Things etc etc...
1. His name ain't Mark Twain. Most people do know this- it's probably a fact stashed away in the dusty corners of your they-made-me-learn-this-in-6th-grade mind. His name was Samuel Clemens. Mark Twain was a pen named he got from his time as a steamboat pilot on the Mississippi. "Mark twain" was a leadsman's call that indicated the water was at least 12 feet above the lead (depth sounder). It basically means "safe water" or "steer that big ass boat over here and you won't die much."
2. He was born on the day Halley's comet came 'round, and predicted he would die when it returned. In fact, he died the day after it's return because he was SECRETLY A WIZARD, HARRY. Twain also had a dream detailing the death of his brother in a steamboat explosion, which happened a month later. I mean, look at those whiskers: obviously a warlock of some kind. (edited to correct my stupid-ass misspelling of the comet's name)
Don't make me bust out my wand/walking stick, bitches.
3. He loved the ladies. Twain supported women's suffrage before it was cool. Damn hipster.
4. Twain was bad with money. Like, BAD with MONEY. He lost almost all his profits from his books' publications, along with all of his wife's money, in investments that went south. And not cute, mint-julep-on-the-veranda south, but like icky, icky south.
5. Twain was a member of the American Anti-Imperialist League. This was the opposite opinion he held as a young man, when he avidly supported American Imperialism. Twain is living (except he's not living) proof that the saying "if you're not a Democrat at 16, you have no heart; if you're not a Republican at 30, you have no brain" is, in fact, stupid.
If your party-going friends look suspicious of your factoid knowledge, quickly rattle of something about Twain having a degree from Oxford and about how he was a confused deist who frequently contradicted himself when discussing his religious beliefs. That should shut them up.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn; Or, Birth Control for Southerners
The controversy last year (or whenever the hey-hah it was) about removing the n-word from Huck Finn or order to protect the sensitive squishy minds of college students everywhere gave me a swift kick in the butt about re-reading this.
But I didn't. The kick, it was not swift enough. Also? I read this in middle school and HATED it. This was back when something like personal preference about not liking to read dialects still influenced my opinions of a work as a whole (this is still how it is [for I am still 12]). Yes, my friends, it's true. I eye-rolled and huffed my way through it not because I didn't like the story or the characters, not because there were too many commas and not enough paragraph breaks, but simply because reading a written accent gave (gives) me a headache.
AUDIOBOOKS TO THE RESCUE! Why didn't I think of this a bajillion years ago? I'm from the south, baby, and no audible drawl will make me flinch! What genius! So. Off to the library I trudged, and into the CD player went the Twain. Success! I HEART IT'S FACE! Right? It's so sarcastic, how could I not love it? I will admit that driving around town listening to a loud CD that kept saying the n-word over and over (without the accompanying heavy beat that somehow makes it ok) made me a little self-conscious, but I got over it.
ANYWOOT. Thing I Did Not Like: Uh, the end? I felt like it trivialized slavery, and Jim's separation from his family and desperation to see his family, to have Huck and Tom f*ck around for weeks and weeks trying to recreate the escape from The Count of Monte Cristo. Of course, this just showed how desensitized the children were to the evils of slavery (and how ridiculous the "kind master" crap is), but I really just wanted to take them out back and make them pick a switch, if you get my drift. And I think you do (MY DRIFT IS THEY NEED A SPANKING).
Things I Did Like: Everything else. The King and the Duke parts were especially entertaining, probably because they reminded me so much of a Dickensian group of characters (the King, Duke, and victims). In fact, the whole thing sorta gave me an Oliver Twist Down on the Mississippi feeling, what with the grotesquely absurd villans and the not-so-hidden moral and the resourceful, scrappy, classless and lovable main character. In fact, I would say Twain is an excellent alternative for those who want classic social satire without the length, and with more sarcasm.
Summary: crazily funny, Dickens for the lazy, those boys need a beating, listen to the audiobook
Four stars out of your mom
But I didn't. The kick, it was not swift enough. Also? I read this in middle school and HATED it. This was back when something like personal preference about not liking to read dialects still influenced my opinions of a work as a whole (this is still how it is [for I am still 12]). Yes, my friends, it's true. I eye-rolled and huffed my way through it not because I didn't like the story or the characters, not because there were too many commas and not enough paragraph breaks, but simply because reading a written accent gave (gives) me a headache.
AUDIOBOOKS TO THE RESCUE! Why didn't I think of this a bajillion years ago? I'm from the south, baby, and no audible drawl will make me flinch! What genius! So. Off to the library I trudged, and into the CD player went the Twain. Success! I HEART IT'S FACE! Right? It's so sarcastic, how could I not love it? I will admit that driving around town listening to a loud CD that kept saying the n-word over and over (without the accompanying heavy beat that somehow makes it ok) made me a little self-conscious, but I got over it.
ANYWOOT. Thing I Did Not Like: Uh, the end? I felt like it trivialized slavery, and Jim's separation from his family and desperation to see his family, to have Huck and Tom f*ck around for weeks and weeks trying to recreate the escape from The Count of Monte Cristo. Of course, this just showed how desensitized the children were to the evils of slavery (and how ridiculous the "kind master" crap is), but I really just wanted to take them out back and make them pick a switch, if you get my drift. And I think you do (MY DRIFT IS THEY NEED A SPANKING).
Things I Did Like: Everything else. The King and the Duke parts were especially entertaining, probably because they reminded me so much of a Dickensian group of characters (the King, Duke, and victims). In fact, the whole thing sorta gave me an Oliver Twist Down on the Mississippi feeling, what with the grotesquely absurd villans and the not-so-hidden moral and the resourceful, scrappy, classless and lovable main character. In fact, I would say Twain is an excellent alternative for those who want classic social satire without the length, and with more sarcasm.
Summary: crazily funny, Dickens for the lazy, those boys need a beating, listen to the audiobook
Four stars out of your mom
Saturday, September 17, 2011
And Then There Were None; Or, Which Guy is Tim Curry?
Some bad folks gather on an island. They start dying, one by one, in methods outlined by a nursery rhyme posted in everyone's bedroom. Then you find out whodunnit.
Personal problems: The name of the killer is on the last page in bold. IN BOLD. Don't turn to the last page to check how far along you are, or how many pages you have left. Just guesstimate. Also, my copy was purchased from a used book store and the previous owner wrote the names of Every. Single. Victim. on the nursery rhyme in the beginning, next to their corresponding method of death.
Enterprising stranger? I hate you with much violence and wish you stale cookies and spoiled milk forever and ever, amen.
The Not So Happy: Christie introduces the characters one by one, giving very little backstory. By the time you've met all 10 people, you have no idea who is who and who is a colonel and who is a female and who said what or what the hell is going on. It's very "Sally is a girl with shoes. John is a man with a diabolical past who prefers you not look at him. Laura is an old maid who is scary and knits things, you know, like an old maid. That blond guy is dashing. That other blond guy is not dashing.. etc, etc." Eventually you get the hang of it, but by that point half of them are dead so meh? Who cares.
The Happy: It's so masterfully suspenseful that I ended up balled up on the end of the couch, and at the last page I finally relaxed so fast I scared my cat. Also? Every mystery with more than five people in it since this one are based on it. I've heard Clue is also based on this book, and who doesn't love that movie? NO ONE.
To summarize: confusing cast of characters, stupid used book copies, masterwork of a genre, don't look at the last page, VERY VERY SCARY, Tim Curry.
Four stars out of your mom
BONUS: Funniest scenes from Clue
Personal problems: The name of the killer is on the last page in bold. IN BOLD. Don't turn to the last page to check how far along you are, or how many pages you have left. Just guesstimate. Also, my copy was purchased from a used book store and the previous owner wrote the names of Every. Single. Victim. on the nursery rhyme in the beginning, next to their corresponding method of death.
Enterprising stranger? I hate you with much violence and wish you stale cookies and spoiled milk forever and ever, amen.
The Not So Happy: Christie introduces the characters one by one, giving very little backstory. By the time you've met all 10 people, you have no idea who is who and who is a colonel and who is a female and who said what or what the hell is going on. It's very "Sally is a girl with shoes. John is a man with a diabolical past who prefers you not look at him. Laura is an old maid who is scary and knits things, you know, like an old maid. That blond guy is dashing. That other blond guy is not dashing.. etc, etc." Eventually you get the hang of it, but by that point half of them are dead so meh? Who cares.
The Happy: It's so masterfully suspenseful that I ended up balled up on the end of the couch, and at the last page I finally relaxed so fast I scared my cat. Also? Every mystery with more than five people in it since this one are based on it. I've heard Clue is also based on this book, and who doesn't love that movie? NO ONE.
To summarize: confusing cast of characters, stupid used book copies, masterwork of a genre, don't look at the last page, VERY VERY SCARY, Tim Curry.
Four stars out of your mom
BONUS: Funniest scenes from Clue
Thursday, September 15, 2011
We Interrupt This Regularly Scheduled Nap
DUDES et DUDETTES. Dead White Guys has won Best Classics Book Blog for 2011! Hugs and rainbow colored unicorns to everyone who voted for DWG. Or, you know...high fives and too-cool-for-school nods in your general direction, if fanciful Lisa Frank animals are not your jam. That's fine. We just can't be friends anymore. I JEST.
Anyway, PLEASE for the love of HOLY HOT PANTS check out my fellow nominees: Allie at A Literary Odyssey is chronicling her self-education as she reads through All Those Book You're Supposed to Read (but not because someone told her to, just because she's smart and kick-ass). Rebecca Reads is like that genius who says All The Smart Things we mere mortals can never articulate, and is FanFREAKINtastic at pointing out why these books are still relevant. Aaannnddd she's a ginger. I have a thing for gingers. Ok, mostly just Jane from Mad Men.
LOOK! Something shiny! *scampers away*
BBAW Day 4: I Readz What I Wantz.
How has blogging changed my reading/book buying habits?
Er. Well, let us do a little switchy-switch and talk about the second question, first. The main thing becoming a book blogger has done to my book buying habits is made me CEASE AND DESIST buying books from Amazon. When I do pay full price for a book (which is uh rarely), I get it from an independent book store. Before I became a blogger, I didn't know jack diddly squat about how Amazon is actually the Voldemort of the book world, or about how supporting indie book sellers is so essential.
That being said, I still get most of my books from Bookmooch, library sales, or thrift stores. What can I say? Fifty cents is fifty cents. I was going to say that becoming a book blogger has increased the number of books I buy, but that would be a big dose of UNTRUTHINESS. Sometimes, another blogger's posts about purging will encourage me to unburden my shelves of Books I Will Never Actually Read, but then I unfailingly find that same book somewhere and buy it again, forgetting that I got rid of it in the first place.
Now. I used to feel mightily odd about my library- not that I have one, but that I have such a big one when most people my age have such big...kegs...or Playstations...or...whatever other people have who don't read (the answer: nothing important). I'm pretty much over that. TURNS OUT there are lotsa folks like me- they just don't live around here.
ONWARD, CHRISTIAN SOLDIER! Part uno- how has blogging changed my reading habits?
Well. It hasn't changed them so much as refined them. I started this blog because I read mostly classics and couldn't find another blog with the appropriate level of snark ABOUT CLASSICS. This reading of the old jank is still the general state of affairs round these parts. Other examples of refining: I would try a YA book every now and again (pre-blogging), confirm that YUP, I still hate this, rinse, repeat. Now I try the genre a bit more frequently because buzz? I is a sucker for you. But the results are the same. For example, I recently read Uglies by Scott Westerfeld and loved it notreallyIhatedit. So, I suppose I'm more adventurous, but the outcome isn't really different. My tastes are unalterable! I am sullenly unchangeable!
I do listen to audiobooks now, which is new. I also read a good bit more contemporary adult literary fiction than I did pre-bloggyblog. The Bookrageous podcast sells me on a lot of stuff that has gathered in stacks around my apartment that I haven't gotten to (why hello, A Visit From the Good Squad and Crimson Petal and the White, and Skippy Dies, and Mr. Peanut, etc..) BUT I'M TRYING. Good intentions? I haz 'em.
Summary: Me gots mucho books, always have, always will; still think YA is kljfaneuichdf, trying to read more contemporary fiction but I have to dig my copies out from under the entire backlist of Dickens' work.
Er. Well, let us do a little switchy-switch and talk about the second question, first. The main thing becoming a book blogger has done to my book buying habits is made me CEASE AND DESIST buying books from Amazon. When I do pay full price for a book (which is uh rarely), I get it from an independent book store. Before I became a blogger, I didn't know jack diddly squat about how Amazon is actually the Voldemort of the book world, or about how supporting indie book sellers is so essential.
That being said, I still get most of my books from Bookmooch, library sales, or thrift stores. What can I say? Fifty cents is fifty cents. I was going to say that becoming a book blogger has increased the number of books I buy, but that would be a big dose of UNTRUTHINESS. Sometimes, another blogger's posts about purging will encourage me to unburden my shelves of Books I Will Never Actually Read, but then I unfailingly find that same book somewhere and buy it again, forgetting that I got rid of it in the first place.
Now. I used to feel mightily odd about my library- not that I have one, but that I have such a big one when most people my age have such big...kegs...or Playstations...or...whatever other people have who don't read (the answer: nothing important). I'm pretty much over that. TURNS OUT there are lotsa folks like me- they just don't live around here.
ONWARD, CHRISTIAN SOLDIER! Part uno- how has blogging changed my reading habits?
Well. It hasn't changed them so much as refined them. I started this blog because I read mostly classics and couldn't find another blog with the appropriate level of snark ABOUT CLASSICS. This reading of the old jank is still the general state of affairs round these parts. Other examples of refining: I would try a YA book every now and again (pre-blogging), confirm that YUP, I still hate this, rinse, repeat. Now I try the genre a bit more frequently because buzz? I is a sucker for you. But the results are the same. For example, I recently read Uglies by Scott Westerfeld and loved it notreallyIhatedit. So, I suppose I'm more adventurous, but the outcome isn't really different. My tastes are unalterable! I am sullenly unchangeable!
I do listen to audiobooks now, which is new. I also read a good bit more contemporary adult literary fiction than I did pre-bloggyblog. The Bookrageous podcast sells me on a lot of stuff that has gathered in stacks around my apartment that I haven't gotten to (why hello, A Visit From the Good Squad and Crimson Petal and the White, and Skippy Dies, and Mr. Peanut, etc..) BUT I'M TRYING. Good intentions? I haz 'em.
Summary: Me gots mucho books, always have, always will; still think YA is kljfaneuichdf, trying to read more contemporary fiction but I have to dig my copies out from under the entire backlist of Dickens' work.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
True Grit by Charles Portis; Or, How to Be a Bad Ass
One of my reading goals this fall is to get in more genre-tastic classics. The staples of the Western, the thriller, science fiction, mystery, etc. I started with Westerns because of the Spouse (who owns literally Ever. Single. Louis Lamour book ever written). Also, I had just seen the movie and Jeff Bridges can make me do anything.
Hokay so. True Grit= man killed, daughter goes off to find killer, daughter takes up with gruff old Man Of the Law and an additional pretty boy from Texas. Shenanigans ensue.
Like an idiot, I read Donna Tartt's afterword before I started the book, in which she compares Maddie (daughter) to Huck Finn (which I'm also reading [listening to] right now). Ergo, I spent THE ENTIRE BOOK thinking about what a kick ass chick Maddie is, and what a goober-liscious wuss Huck is. Though I am enjoying the Twain (more on that in a later post [WHO LOVES PARENTHETICALS I DO I DO]). It is an interesting contrast, though. Maddie is both severely traditional with her no-nonsense religion and sense of decorum, and unconcerned with HER traditional gender roles. She wants men to be Men, but doesn't want to be bothered with being a Lady if it means having to get married and listen to men. I dig this.
Alas, why doesn't anyone speak with contractions? Tartt claims that Portis captures the Southern patois perfectly, but I am unaware of a Southern dialect that involves more work instead of less. I'm not an expert on the speech patterns of early 1900's Arkansas, so I can't speak to the accuracy, but it is distracting. But it's surprisingly witty, and Maddie's smart-assitude made me scared to have a daughter.
So how does this book speak to the Western genre in general? I dunno, it's the only one I've read. There are Guns and Whiskey and a damsel does eventually get in distress, see also: rattlesnakes, ponies, trains, and hangings. I'm sure the Drunken Fugitive vs. The Law plot is pretty played, but the addition of a young girl who subjugates every grown man in the book gets a respectful head-nod from me. And since I am the holder of the opinions around these here parts, I guess that means I liked it.
Ok, I did like it. But don't think I'm going to run off and read Louis Lamour's backlist, Spouse.
three stars out of your mom
Hokay so. True Grit= man killed, daughter goes off to find killer, daughter takes up with gruff old Man Of the Law and an additional pretty boy from Texas. Shenanigans ensue.
Like an idiot, I read Donna Tartt's afterword before I started the book, in which she compares Maddie (daughter) to Huck Finn (which I'm also reading [listening to] right now). Ergo, I spent THE ENTIRE BOOK thinking about what a kick ass chick Maddie is, and what a goober-liscious wuss Huck is. Though I am enjoying the Twain (more on that in a later post [WHO LOVES PARENTHETICALS I DO I DO]). It is an interesting contrast, though. Maddie is both severely traditional with her no-nonsense religion and sense of decorum, and unconcerned with HER traditional gender roles. She wants men to be Men, but doesn't want to be bothered with being a Lady if it means having to get married and listen to men. I dig this.
Alas, why doesn't anyone speak with contractions? Tartt claims that Portis captures the Southern patois perfectly, but I am unaware of a Southern dialect that involves more work instead of less. I'm not an expert on the speech patterns of early 1900's Arkansas, so I can't speak to the accuracy, but it is distracting. But it's surprisingly witty, and Maddie's smart-assitude made me scared to have a daughter.
So how does this book speak to the Western genre in general? I dunno, it's the only one I've read. There are Guns and Whiskey and a damsel does eventually get in distress, see also: rattlesnakes, ponies, trains, and hangings. I'm sure the Drunken Fugitive vs. The Law plot is pretty played, but the addition of a young girl who subjugates every grown man in the book gets a respectful head-nod from me. And since I am the holder of the opinions around these here parts, I guess that means I liked it.
Ok, I did like it. But don't think I'm going to run off and read Louis Lamour's backlist, Spouse.
three stars out of your mom
Monday, September 12, 2011
Appreciate Me, Dammit! (Happy BBAW!)
Dudes. It's Book Blogger Appreciation Week, and the sap- it is a'flowin'. I rarely allow myself the luxury of emotions (I'm very Jane Eyre-ish) (not really, I have better hair) (ok, that's not the only difference) (my husband isn't an ass, brooding or otherwise).
ANYWAY.
This year's theme is community, which I dig because book bloggers? They are my tribe. Today we're taking a hot second to discuss other book bloggers who (whom?) have impacted our own blogging experience and direct you to their awesomeness. I started this blog partly as a safe haven from all the black background, GLITTERY FAIRY-LADEN, sparkly-fonted gushers out there, and these folks gave me hope/direction/happy times when I had no idea what I was doing. Which is also right now. Ergo:
Rebecca at The Book Lady's Blog. Rebecca's blog is one of the first ones I stumbled upon when I googled something like "book blogs that don't suck." Our reading paths rarely cross, but when I'm in need of something written by someone who still lives, I always look to her first. Also? She lives in my town and had lunch with me when I was brand new and didn't call me names or imply that I'm dumb in person. She answered questions and said wise things and made me feel welcome. READ THIS BLOG, even if classics are your only jam. She will make you use your thinky-bits.
The Ape at The Reading Ape. Dude's totes smart. Like Rebecca, the Ape blogs about modern literature- but not just in the form of reviews. He is always posing thought-provoking questions and encouraging discussion in ways I can't grasp because I'm a little more I'M RIGHT AND YOUR OPINION IS GOOFY (I'm working on it). If you ever get into a funk of feeling like no one around you thinks reading is relevant or necessary, visit this blog. The Ape's posts and conversations they generate will help you come back to the realization that reading, critical thought, and literary criticism are muy importante.
Adam at Roof Beam Reader. Adam got started around the same time I did-ish, and we read a lot of the same things. We sometimes have literally the opposite opinions about classics, which I NEED TIMES TEN. I read his work to keep myself open-minded and to prevent myself from projecting my literary values on other readers. He also blogs about modern literary fiction and some young adult stuff, but has a Big Ole Brain, so I trust his recommendations totally.
Raych at books i done read. Let's state some obvious jank here: I'm not trying to be academic up in these here parts. I started blogging because I thought there was a lack of funny irreverence in the classics blogging world, and RAYCH IS THE FUNNY. I was a little afraid that People Who Read would come out of the wood work and do violence to me for hating a book because there's not enough Stuff Happening and too much Boring Dialogue, but Raych is a shining beacon of hope and perspective! She's always smart, tongue-in-cheek, and an excellent study of how to develop your own voice in the blogosphere.
Hokay, so. There are a bajillion and twelve (roughly) other book blogs I "appreciate," but these are the ones that helped me get through the tough first bits. The bits when I didn't know what a book blog really looked like, or whether anyone cared about reading anymore, or whether you could be funny and still have people care about your Thoughts.
So, you know. Preesh.
P.S. Dead White Guys has been shortlisted for Best Classics Blog, and WOAH. Thanks for all you guys who nominated/voted for me. You're the BEE'S KNEES AND THE CAT'S PAJAMAS.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Time Out
We interrupt this regularly scheduled smart-ass program to bring you a moment of sincerity. It takes a lot for me to stop being a goober and take something seriously ("Hi, my name is Chandler, and I make jokes when I'm uncomfortable"), and today is...a lot.
I was in 11th grade when the planes crashed into the towers, the field, and the Pentagon. I was in chemistry class, probably reading a book and ignoring the teacher, when an announcement came over the loudspeaker. The principle said something to the effect of "As many of you know, there was a terrorist attack this morning. We will not be sending you home, but you may call your relatives in New York."
She was wrong- not many of us knew. Our teacher left the room to find out what was going on, and came back to tell us. I spent the rest of the day going to my classes, where all we did was sit and watch the television, waiting to go home. We hung around those who had relatives and friends who worked in the towers, who didn't know if they were ok. The teachers ignored us while we called people on our cell phones.
A lot of things about my life were decided ten Septembers ago. I realized for the first time that I am not immortal, and that the world is not inherently just. I realized that the rule of law is based upon the agreement of a group of people, and when others decide those rules are phantoms, there is no stability. I realized that being a young American did not protect me from the chaos present in so much of the rest of the world. I didn't even know I felt that way until I stopped feeling that way.
I didn't lose anyone that day. I lost some innocence and some illusions and a need to succeed in areas of life that I suddenly considered (and still consider) silly and unnecessary. I know that these changes pale in comparison to what others went through and continue to go through because of what happened. I look at my twins and wonder if they'll know, when they are grown, how much of their world is shaped by something that happened before they were born. If they're the thinkers and readers I hope they will be, I think they will know.
At any rate, it's Sunday and I'm going to church like I always do. I'm praying for peace for those who lost someone, and for unity, and for understanding. I'm praying that our leaders don't use what happened ten years ago to further their personal financial and party agendas (anymore). I'm praying that "never forget" is not synonymous with "never forgive," and that more people realize that the personal is political.
I was in 11th grade when the planes crashed into the towers, the field, and the Pentagon. I was in chemistry class, probably reading a book and ignoring the teacher, when an announcement came over the loudspeaker. The principle said something to the effect of "As many of you know, there was a terrorist attack this morning. We will not be sending you home, but you may call your relatives in New York."
She was wrong- not many of us knew. Our teacher left the room to find out what was going on, and came back to tell us. I spent the rest of the day going to my classes, where all we did was sit and watch the television, waiting to go home. We hung around those who had relatives and friends who worked in the towers, who didn't know if they were ok. The teachers ignored us while we called people on our cell phones.
A lot of things about my life were decided ten Septembers ago. I realized for the first time that I am not immortal, and that the world is not inherently just. I realized that the rule of law is based upon the agreement of a group of people, and when others decide those rules are phantoms, there is no stability. I realized that being a young American did not protect me from the chaos present in so much of the rest of the world. I didn't even know I felt that way until I stopped feeling that way.
I didn't lose anyone that day. I lost some innocence and some illusions and a need to succeed in areas of life that I suddenly considered (and still consider) silly and unnecessary. I know that these changes pale in comparison to what others went through and continue to go through because of what happened. I look at my twins and wonder if they'll know, when they are grown, how much of their world is shaped by something that happened before they were born. If they're the thinkers and readers I hope they will be, I think they will know.
At any rate, it's Sunday and I'm going to church like I always do. I'm praying for peace for those who lost someone, and for unity, and for understanding. I'm praying that our leaders don't use what happened ten years ago to further their personal financial and party agendas (anymore). I'm praying that "never forget" is not synonymous with "never forgive," and that more people realize that the personal is political.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Sh*t My Victorian Uncle Says About Virginia Woolf
I just finished Quentin Bell's Virginia Woolf: A Biography, and I'm fairly torn here. Bell was (is?) Virginia's nephew, so I was afraid I would get something that was heavy on the family gossip and light on the insight into her work, with a side of Familial Skiddishness. The book was everything I hoped and feared it to be. A few points:
1. It is heavily detailed. Bell drew heavily from the source material of Virginia's letters, as well as the letters/diaries/secret innermost thoughts of everyone she ever associated with ever in life ever ever. He references these items on every page, which can lead you to wonder why you don't just read the bloody volumes of letters yourself. On the other hand, if you were ever wondering how Virginia felt about dresses or what she liked to have for tea, this is your JAM.
2. Bell No Likey the Sexy Times. I understand- this is his family he's talking about here. But the parts about Virginia's sexual abuse at the hands of her brother George are glossed over. Bell seems uncomfortable with the topic and uses terms like "petting" or "overly affectionate." He doesn't flat out deny it happened, but he treats a monumentally important part of Virginia's life as something like an irritating scene from her childhood and then quickly moves on OH HEY LOOK SOMETHING SHINY OVER HERE SHE LIKED BOOKS AND STUFF AHEM. Also, he won't admit that Virginia had any physical relationship with any women, or even her husband. He calls her "frigid" and leaves it at that.
3. The handling of Virginia's mental illness is sorta odd. He doesn't offer any explanation or opinions other than his own and what Leonard or Virginia themselves wrote in their diaries, so if you're looking for a diagnosis or scientific exploration of what was actually wrong with Woolf, you're not going to get it. He mentions "bad times" and "madness" and the occasional headache. It seems to ME that she suffered from some sort of bipolar disorder, but again, Bell seems uncomfortable discussing it.
4. What he IS comfortable discussing is Bloomsbury, the group of intellectuals and artists with whom Virginia associated. He really wants you to know all about these people, and who slept with whom (except for Virginia, who he thinks is sexless), and where they hung out, and what they read, and card games they played, etc.
5. Virginia, if Bell's account of her is accurate, was insufferably snotty. I had an inkling of this after reading A Room of One's Own, but for real? She was jealous of any and all artistic success of her contemporaries, talked horribly about everyone behind their backs- especially if they were poor or not as smart as her. She was a socialist, but couldn't abide by the lower classes being anywhere around her. When World War II came, she actually spoke out against England putting up physical resistance (she called the potential violence "beastly masculine aggression" and meant it as an insult), and became irritated when air raids got in the way of her scheduled walks and writing time. She wasn't a fascist- far from it- but seemed more annoyed by the inconvenience of the war than anything else. The generation of writers coming after her pegged her correctly as a prim, stuck-up snob out of touch with reality. Again, this is all if you believe Bell's account, which I only do half-heartedly. I've had recommendations to read a different biography of Woolf by Hermione Lee, which may present her in a totally different light.
But. Still a genius. HOWEVER. You won't get much insight into her creative process in this biography, though she wrote about it in her letters and diaries. You'll get a day to day account of her movements, as well as accounts of all the awful things she said about her friends. You'll end by being irritated with her and wondering how such an annoying woman wrote such brilliant stuff- and Bell never tells you.
Three stars out of your mom
1. It is heavily detailed. Bell drew heavily from the source material of Virginia's letters, as well as the letters/diaries/secret innermost thoughts of everyone she ever associated with ever in life ever ever. He references these items on every page, which can lead you to wonder why you don't just read the bloody volumes of letters yourself. On the other hand, if you were ever wondering how Virginia felt about dresses or what she liked to have for tea, this is your JAM.
2. Bell No Likey the Sexy Times. I understand- this is his family he's talking about here. But the parts about Virginia's sexual abuse at the hands of her brother George are glossed over. Bell seems uncomfortable with the topic and uses terms like "petting" or "overly affectionate." He doesn't flat out deny it happened, but he treats a monumentally important part of Virginia's life as something like an irritating scene from her childhood and then quickly moves on OH HEY LOOK SOMETHING SHINY OVER HERE SHE LIKED BOOKS AND STUFF AHEM. Also, he won't admit that Virginia had any physical relationship with any women, or even her husband. He calls her "frigid" and leaves it at that.
3. The handling of Virginia's mental illness is sorta odd. He doesn't offer any explanation or opinions other than his own and what Leonard or Virginia themselves wrote in their diaries, so if you're looking for a diagnosis or scientific exploration of what was actually wrong with Woolf, you're not going to get it. He mentions "bad times" and "madness" and the occasional headache. It seems to ME that she suffered from some sort of bipolar disorder, but again, Bell seems uncomfortable discussing it.
4. What he IS comfortable discussing is Bloomsbury, the group of intellectuals and artists with whom Virginia associated. He really wants you to know all about these people, and who slept with whom (except for Virginia, who he thinks is sexless), and where they hung out, and what they read, and card games they played, etc.
5. Virginia, if Bell's account of her is accurate, was insufferably snotty. I had an inkling of this after reading A Room of One's Own, but for real? She was jealous of any and all artistic success of her contemporaries, talked horribly about everyone behind their backs- especially if they were poor or not as smart as her. She was a socialist, but couldn't abide by the lower classes being anywhere around her. When World War II came, she actually spoke out against England putting up physical resistance (she called the potential violence "beastly masculine aggression" and meant it as an insult), and became irritated when air raids got in the way of her scheduled walks and writing time. She wasn't a fascist- far from it- but seemed more annoyed by the inconvenience of the war than anything else. The generation of writers coming after her pegged her correctly as a prim, stuck-up snob out of touch with reality. Again, this is all if you believe Bell's account, which I only do half-heartedly. I've had recommendations to read a different biography of Woolf by Hermione Lee, which may present her in a totally different light.
But. Still a genius. HOWEVER. You won't get much insight into her creative process in this biography, though she wrote about it in her letters and diaries. You'll get a day to day account of her movements, as well as accounts of all the awful things she said about her friends. You'll end by being irritated with her and wondering how such an annoying woman wrote such brilliant stuff- and Bell never tells you.
Three stars out of your mom
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Literary Blog Hop: WHY ARE THESE BOOKS SO HARD? (snicker)
The Literary Blog Hop is hosted by The Blue Bookcase. This week's question is: must all literary writing be difficult?
Word Of Truth (also known as my answer):
Heck to the no, home skillet!
There are muchas cosas that people mean when they say "that book was hard." I offer my translation, based on tome/time period:
"I hate Austen! (S)He's so HHAARRDD." Ok, first of all, your mom. Second of all, what they really mean is: I'm not used to subtlety. I like my wordy bits to HIT ME LIKE A TON OF DAN BROWN, BITCHES."
"I hate Dickens! He's so HHAARDD." That's what she said. Also, translation: It's so long (see also: Tolstoy, Leo), and there are so many commas, and so much description. Where's the ACTION? WHERE'S THE LUDLUM?!
"Ugh, James Joyce/Virginia Woolf/William Faulkner/Proust. So hard." Translation: I'm not up to putting the effort into a non-linear narrative (or a book with no narrative at all). Screw you, stream of consciousness. SCREW YOU. I want Thing A Happened to Person 1, and Person 1 said This, and Married Person 2, and The End.
"Man, Hemingway is so hard." Translation: I'm a frickin' frackin' moron. I like my Meyer with a side of Sparks.
"Dude, DFW is hard. So is Franzen. And have you READ anything by Franzen? DI. FFI. CULT." Translation: I dunno, you may be right. I haven't read them. Because, you know. I hear they're hard.
Anyway, what I'm driving at here is that literary fiction doesn't need to be difficult, but "difficult" in and of itself is pretty subjective. I may breeze through Bronte with ease, while you may think all the wordy, gothic darkness is mind-numbingly hard for your brain-plow.
Of course, this really boils down to your definition of literary fiction to begin with. If you ask some people, they will probably say something like "hard, boring, pretentious." I will say that literary fiction involves thinking and effort, but that effort and hard are not synonyms, unless you're a lazy pud (which I can be QUITE frequently, as you know). And then there's content...I still haven't gotten through Kafka's The Trial because thinking about law and justice hurts my sensitive grey matter. Someone more interested in these topics wouldn't find the book difficult. Give me a provincial novel about living on the moor ANYDAY. Those are my JAM.
So. Does "literary" equal "no me likey ees too hard?" Why do so many people equate literary fiction with difficulty?
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
In Which I Read Some Random, Random Craps.
Sooo. During my last two reads, I justified them because they were SORTA classics. I read The Giver, which is certainly a classic of children's literature (young adult literature? I'm still not clear on the actual distinction between the two). I also finished The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Murakami, also known as Mayor of Crazy Town, which I decided was a modern classic because- again- that term doesn't really have a definition so it's WHATEVER THE HELLZ BELLZ I SAY IT IS.
But after trying to figure out what I meant by "children's classic" and "modern classic," my brain short-circuited and I just read The Giver because it was my favorite in middle school, and the Murakami because I owned it for years and it was taunting me with its little bird cover and its little bird title and its little bird...stuff.
Then I had some tea to reward myself for my marvelous insight into my own psyche. (I typed "psycho" first and then had to fix it. FREUD, YOUR SLIP IS SHOWING.)
Anywoot, I'm not telling you this because I want to review these two works but because I want to know more about how you select the next book you're going to read. Do you go through mental gymnastics to justify reading something when you feel like you "should" be reading something else? Do you have LISTS? Do you have monkeys that throw the books at you at random and you select the one not covered in bananas and poo?
And in case you're wondering how I felt about those two books, I've written review-haikus (THAT RHYMES):
The Giver
Apples are shiny.
Parents are murdering freaks.
Sled away home, kid.
(five stars out of your mom)
The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle
Never climb into
a well or a subconscious
without a few beers.
Alternatively:
Wait. Where'd the cat go?
600 pages later.
I want my closure.
(four stars out of your mom)
Ok, now answer my questions.
But after trying to figure out what I meant by "children's classic" and "modern classic," my brain short-circuited and I just read The Giver because it was my favorite in middle school, and the Murakami because I owned it for years and it was taunting me with its little bird cover and its little bird title and its little bird...stuff.
Then I had some tea to reward myself for my marvelous insight into my own psyche. (I typed "psycho" first and then had to fix it. FREUD, YOUR SLIP IS SHOWING.)
Anywoot, I'm not telling you this because I want to review these two works but because I want to know more about how you select the next book you're going to read. Do you go through mental gymnastics to justify reading something when you feel like you "should" be reading something else? Do you have LISTS? Do you have monkeys that throw the books at you at random and you select the one not covered in bananas and poo?
And in case you're wondering how I felt about those two books, I've written review-haikus (THAT RHYMES):
The Giver
Apples are shiny.
Parents are murdering freaks.
Sled away home, kid.
(five stars out of your mom)
The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle
Never climb into
a well or a subconscious
without a few beers.
Alternatively:
Wait. Where'd the cat go?
600 pages later.
I want my closure.
(four stars out of your mom)
Ok, now answer my questions.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Things I Like So You Must Also Like Them Because That's How This Works, Right? RIGHT?!
Ahem.
I love these:
I love these:
Photo totally stolen from Scout Books website pleasedon'tsueme
So Scout Books sent me some of these ITTY BITTY pocket short stories that they are starting to produce. They are WEE and fit in various bags and garments, and are CUTE. The series is a collection of iconic American shorts paired with contemporary illustrators. I got Rip Van Winkle (which I had never actually read ERGH) and An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge, which is the short story most likely to leave you making ah AGHAST face. Anywoot, the series also has some Fitzgerald and The Yellow Wallpaper which is one of the creepiest things ever ever, so yeah. Check them out here.
THING TWO WHICH I LOVE:
Audiobooks. "What," you say. "You've just now started listening to audiobooks?" Well, look, judgey McInternetPants, the answer is both yes and no. I've always taken an audiobook with me on long roadtrips wherein I have to remain awake in order to not die in a flaming ball of sleepy-car-wreckage, but I have recently started listening to them all the time. Whilst doing dishes. Whilst feeding babies. Whilst driving. AND. AND. They are making me like books I didn't like beforeokaymaybejustonebook. I've started listening to The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn because I hate reading dialogue and therefore hate reading that, which is sad because THE SARCASM, it oozes! Anywoot, I have no problem understanding spoken dialects, so hey. THIS IS WIN.
So that's all. Go get those little books (great booky gifts) and tell me that you are also audiobook lovers. TELL ME.
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