Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Monday, October 20, 2008
CNN has slow readers
It seems like every day CNN has a new headline related to "Marcia Brady." I think that someone there is reading Maureen McCormick's memoir very slowly and everyday is posting some new tidbit from whatever chapter they've managed to complete. Here is today's: "Marcia Brady says set was 'hormone city'." I did a search to see what the previous ones were, but CNN has the worst search engine ever. And I'm lazy. So you'll just have to take my word for it: someone at CNN is reading a memoir full of rather obvious revelations very, very slowly and they'd like you to know about it.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Turns of phrase that don't mean what they used to
I've been reading a lot of mysteries lately, mostly Agatha Christie, but I'm moving onto Sherlock Holmes. (Yes, I know he's not an author.) I was semi-ranting at Pete today about mystery novels and he suggested I should blog about them. And he's such a good husband, he even managed to sound like he thought other people would be interested in my thoughts and ideas rather than like he just wanted me to stop shouting about how totally unnecessary Watson is except to let the reader know that actually, Doyle doesn't agree with Holmes' misogyny/misanthropy at all. Sadly (or not), I am too tired to give full breath to my thoughts on the subject, so I thought I would post a short, related note about language in these books. Maybe I did this already? If so, sorry for the repeat. I'm too lazy to go look at my archive.
There are certain phrases that we just don't use any more. Or at least, not in the way they were originally conceived. Some are just strange, things that seem so very particular as to be too useless to remain current. Like, "She had Irish blue eyes put in with the smutty finger." Whaa?? Evidently this means that they had a smokey ring around the iris. If it were "put in with the smutty thumb" it would mean thick, dark eyelashes. Thanks, Agatha, for a phrase I will never have any reason to use because aside from being completely foreign to the modern person, it's just awkward to say. "With the smutty finger"? Why a definite article? Does it imply that God only uses one finger to play with ashes and occasionally also to put in eyeballs? Another favorite is "mare's nest," as in, "Well this is a right old mare's nest you've gotten us into." It means "complex situation," almost "imbroglio," but without the connotation of scandal.
The two phrases/words that have gotten me laughing again and again though are both redefinitions. I will give examples (though not quotes; again: lazy).
The "knocked up" thing was quite unexpected. I mean, I'm familiar with the multiple meanings of "ejaculate," but I'd never seen "knocked up" used to mean "sought out" or "rung up" before. It kind of sheds new light on the provenance of the meaning "to be pregnant," don't you think? I mean, can you imagine fifty years from now if "to ring up" were to mean "to impregnate"? All kinds of British movies will cease to stand the test of time! Everyone will be ringing everyone up all the time and we will seem like the most lascivious of cultures!
Anyway, I thought you'd enjoy those two little artifacts.
There are certain phrases that we just don't use any more. Or at least, not in the way they were originally conceived. Some are just strange, things that seem so very particular as to be too useless to remain current. Like, "She had Irish blue eyes put in with the smutty finger." Whaa?? Evidently this means that they had a smokey ring around the iris. If it were "put in with the smutty thumb" it would mean thick, dark eyelashes. Thanks, Agatha, for a phrase I will never have any reason to use because aside from being completely foreign to the modern person, it's just awkward to say. "With the smutty finger"? Why a definite article? Does it imply that God only uses one finger to play with ashes and occasionally also to put in eyeballs? Another favorite is "mare's nest," as in, "Well this is a right old mare's nest you've gotten us into." It means "complex situation," almost "imbroglio," but without the connotation of scandal.
The two phrases/words that have gotten me laughing again and again though are both redefinitions. I will give examples (though not quotes; again: lazy).
Suddenly, the Colonel left the room. Miss Marple ejaculated. "What is it?" cried her friend, startled by the uncharacteristic outburst.Yes, that's right: boring old Miss Marple and her knitting are ejaculating all the time. All the time! And so are Holmes and Watson. If things get the least bit tense, Watson can't help himself. And when Holmes ejaculates, well, Watson is always startled, no matter how many times it happens.
"Watson, I'm sorry to knock you up so early in the morning, but it's really quite urgent."
"What? Sherlock, why are you knocking me up so early?"
"It's not me really, but a lady downstairs. And whenever a young lady knocks you up so early in the morning, you know it must be vitally important and I knew you wouldn't want to miss it."
The "knocked up" thing was quite unexpected. I mean, I'm familiar with the multiple meanings of "ejaculate," but I'd never seen "knocked up" used to mean "sought out" or "rung up" before. It kind of sheds new light on the provenance of the meaning "to be pregnant," don't you think? I mean, can you imagine fifty years from now if "to ring up" were to mean "to impregnate"? All kinds of British movies will cease to stand the test of time! Everyone will be ringing everyone up all the time and we will seem like the most lascivious of cultures!
Anyway, I thought you'd enjoy those two little artifacts.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
My Royal Challenge
Have you read "The End of Faith" by Sam Harris? If you have, post your OUTRAGE here! I've only read the first five pages but I am so filled with ire at his absolutist hypocrisy I'm not sure I can go on.
And so I issue this, My Royal Challenge: I dare you to go into any bookstore and read more than the first five pages without feeling disgust, anxiety, sadness or just pure, unadulterated homicidal rage. If you can do this, than you are a better dude than I.
And so I issue this, My Royal Challenge: I dare you to go into any bookstore and read more than the first five pages without feeling disgust, anxiety, sadness or just pure, unadulterated homicidal rage. If you can do this, than you are a better dude than I.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
His Dark Materials: Not So Dark
I didn't hear about "The Golden Compass" or the "His Dark Materials" series until the movie of the first book came out last year. And I wasn't really interested then either. I mean, come on: armored polar bears? Yes, very exotic. A+. Now sit down and shut up. But then I heard that these books were anti-religious and had angered the far right. I thought, "I bet they aren't either. I bet they're all like, 'Hey, it's Sunday, let's have an ice cream,' and the religicos are all like, 'Oh my G-... goodness, they hate God and want to kill him with an ice cream on his day of rest!' Stupid right wing nut jobs." (Just as an aside, have I ever mentioned how totally tolerant I am of other people's beliefs? I'm like a frickin' saint.) Armored bears? Twee exotic. Anti-religious themes? Ooh, count me in!
So I read the first one as quickly as I could, getting very little sleep in the process. And it wasn't anti-religious, and certainly not anti-Christian. It was a great little adventure story about a bratty little girl, the world's awesomest pocket watch, some armored bears and a really evil monkey. It wasn't exactly what I'd consider a children's story, but it's themes regarding religion could be summed up as follows: "Religion is fine, whatever, and faith is really a good thing, but you know what sucks? The Spanish Inquisition. Yeah, religions should really avoid that Torquemada shit." Pete said that the real Anti stuff didn't occur until the second and third books, according to what he'd read about them, so of course I had to go on. The second book ("The Subtle Knife") did broaden the anti-religious sentiment. It's message was more: "Actually, now that I think about it, religion in general kind of sucks. Somaybeweshouldkillgodjustasuggestion. Or whatever." And I was left with the feeling that something had happened in the midst of writing the last quarter of the first book that had poisoned Pullman against the church as evinced by the second books more strident denunciation. Still, it wasn't exactly revolutionary. More like, "Well, if the church in this made up world is evil, maybe one should excise its black heart." It didn't imply, "The church in reality is evil. Seriously. Evil." And the story was still engaging - now there was a sullen boy character from our own world! and the world's awesomest knife! - so I forged ahead. (Actually, that makes it sound like work. I'll try again.) - so I excitedly started devouring the third book ("The Amber Spyglass"), anxious to see what would become of Lyra (bratty girl who is also inexplicably sympathetic) and Will (sullen boy who is necessarily sympathetic for putting up with Lyra).
The third book started out by pretty much shouting at the top of its voice: JUST IN CASE YOU MISSED IT BEFORE, UM, THIS IS AN ALLEGORY FOR HOW THE CHURCH IS EVIL AND NOW YOUR BELOVED CHARACTERS ARE GOING TO EMBARK ON A MISSION TO KILL GOD; TRY NOT TO STRESS OUT ABOUT IT TOO MUCH BECAUSE IT'S FOR THE BEST. And that was okay because up until that point they had primarily been adventure stories and that's what I was in them for anyway. Also, the baddest of the baddies (the one with the evil monkey) had yet to be dispatched, so I had that too look forward to. But then...
Wait, let me describe this book physically first, in case you haven't seen them. This is a 450 or so-page paperback in like 8pt type. It's not what I would call a long book, but I certainly wouldn't call it short. It's more like the book you take on vacation - it's good for 5 hours on a plane, half an hour to an hour every night before bed in your hotel room, and the 5 hours back home. In that size of an adventure/fantasy book I expect a main quest, one or two side quests, some kind of mystical destiny to be fulfilled, a Big Bad to be revealed, thwarted, reborn and then finally defeated, and then for either a family to be reunited or the protagonist to fall in love (it works if they just come to grips with the death of their parents or lover instead, if that's what's called for). Probably someone should make a noble sacrifice in there somewhere. If it's a book for adults, there will probably be some awkwardly written sex, but that's okay so long as no one's "manhood" throbs and no one feels "awash in womanly" anything. (PS: this is one of the primary reasons I prefer young adult sci-fi/fantasy as no one ever goes farther than kissing or virgin marriage.)
But what does "The Amber Spyglass" give you? Deus Ex Machina MacGuffin Quest 2008. It reads like a series of half-hour episode summaries for a British mini-series called Amber Spyglass. Every improbable idea works the first time, exactly as it's meant to. The magical items that propelled the plot of the first two books are suddenly MacGuffined for no clear reason. Why does it matter if so-and-so stole your awesome tool if you're never going to use it? Oh, because you needed a reason to go to this other place and steal this toy that for a while was also an awesome tool but now will also not be used. Even when they do use their magic items, one is given the impression by the ease with which they pick up these esoteric new skills that the item is itself irrelevant. And really, that would almost have been a more interesting story. What if Will didn't need a knife, subtle or otherwise, to cut his way into other parallel worlds? What if Lyra didn't need a golden symbol reader - or even a brass tack! - to understand the universe and answer impossible questions?
"The Amber Spyglass" is a little breathless at times. I think Pullman had enough ideas left over at the end of "The Subtle Knife" for about 10 books, but decided it had to be a trilogy because of God or Jesus or the Holy Ghost or someone, and so just crammed all the ideas he could into one book. The result is that the characters never have more than a moment for introspection or development and it is wearying. An example:
A: Hey, that's a neat watch.
B: Oh yeah? Thanks! Oh no, that man stole it!
A: Really? Well let's steal it back.
B: Oh no, it's not where we saw him leave it!
C: Hey kids, I'll make you a deal: I'll give you your watch if you get me a new spork.
B: Any spork?
C: No, a specific, magic spork, that makes everything taste like meatloaf and A-1.
A: K...
C: Oh, did I mention that it's in a parallel universe?
B: Hey, we're in the parallel universe. Thank god we just happened upon that door marked "Parallel Universe, In Here"
A: Oh no, some crazy guy has the spork!
B: Let's fight him.
D: Oh-you killed me! You're now the Spork Master!
A: Let's get my watch back.
B: Yeah, we have the watch and the Spork!
A: Let's go to Hades.
B: Okay!
A: Wow, Hades sucks.
B: Yeah, let's let all the dead out of it.
A: Good idea!
B: There you go, ghosts! Enjoy Not Hades!
A: Oh no, I'm captured!
B: I'll save you!
A: Safe - except for this new and even more random danger!
And it just goes on like that for 450+ pages.
Somewhere along the line Pullman just completely loses his authorial voice. I mean completely. In literary theory they talk about monovocality and polyvocality - all the characters having the author's voice and pushing forward his/her agenda versus all the characters having independent voices from the author's as well as independent agendas. The first truly polyvocal writers are said to be the 19th century Russians - Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, etc. - and when you compare them to say, Jane Austin, you can really see what a literary theorist is talking about. Normally I am irritated by monovocality, unless it is historically appropriate. For instance, George Sand's "Indiana" or Voltaire's "Candide" wouldn't be very good political statements if the characters could voice opinions that differed from the author's main purpose. But a good story, especially a good adventure, is always better when it's polyvocal. And that doesn't mean you can't hear the author: you can, it's just separate from the characters. An allegory kind of has to be monovocal, which is why complex adventure stories usually make poor allegories. Questing stories make excellent allegories; they're very linear. "The Golden Compass" was truly polyvocal, in my opinion. It was, at its heart, an adventure and Lyra had all the hallmarks of a great adventurer: brave, lucky, foolhardy, smart-assed, headstrong, loyal, clever, compassionate... The second book was pretty good that way too, although at times it seemed like the author was working a little too hard to force Lyra and Will into different voices every time they seemed to naturally align. The third book began the decent into allegory. And that's where Pullman really got lost. Rather than my usual complaints about a monovocality where polyvocality is warranted or vice versa, it was like Pullman himself didn't know what he was going for. There are whole sections of the book where I can almost hear him pacing behind me, fretting, "Oh dear oh dear oh dear," as he tries to stay true to his adventuring ideas (The world of the dead! Also: harpies!) and yet at the same time force it into an allegory-shaped box.
By the end, the dialog doesn't even sound like the same characters any more. They're completely washed out. And that is when you can really begin to see the author's philosophical struggle. On the one hand, he wants to make sure you understand that Religion Is Bad And Evil And The Source Of All Suffering, so he has to set his characters up for heartbreak so you'll want them to succeed. But he loves his characters: Will and Lyra are his children. So he wants them to be happy and then they are. But that seems to imply that all it takes to be happy in the world is to reject religion, and that becomes its own religion, so they have to continue to suffer so that you know that's just how the world is. But that shouldn't make up doubt that the world has the potential to be a nice and good place! So then he gets all hopeful again. The ending is so sugar-coatedly twee, so transparently uplifting and inspiring, that it even as it made my eyes tear up and my chest heavy with sadness for these two sweet-hearted little kids I'd been rooting for, it also made my eyes roll. Pete thinks there should be a word for that, crying and eye rolling. He suggested Crainge, like cry+cringe.
So what is the bottom line. The bottom line is that "The Amber Spyglass" was wholly unsatisfying. I'm sitting here right now wishing I knew what happened to Lyra and Will. Only I do know. What happened was so super saturated with adventure and doe-eyed adoration it read like fan fiction and therefore doesn't really feel like part of the story. Here is a summary of how "The Amber Spyglass" ultimately concludes its tail:**SPOILERS**
Two 12-year olds maybe have sex and that saves the world from pouring all of its consciousness into a great abyss. Religion is bullshit, but ESPECIALLY Christianity - one character actually says, "Christianity got it completely wrong" which lead me to say to myself, "Bone to pick much?" which when I type it doesn't look like it makes much sense but it did in my head - and God is a hobbled old man who just wants to die, except that he's not even the creator because no one knows how that happened, but maybe it was just science or something. ANYWAY, the real meaning of life, the universe and everything is a balance between altruism and sensual pleasures (of which I'm sure there are exactly 42) and that's why it's okay for two 12-year olds to have sex (maybe - it says "they lay together" - about as subtle as a knife that cuts through anything).
Sigh. The worst part is that I can't stop thinking about it because it was so unsatisfying. If you've read these books, I'd be interested to know what you think. Or if you haven't read them. Either way. I've been harassing Pete with it all evening. And he was like, "Oh my God this is a lengthy blog post so please type it up and stop asking me if I think a confused authorial voice and allegory that might just be a bad metaphor or analogy makes for poor reader satisfaction!" So I'm posting a lengthy blog post and asking you: what do you think?
**SPOILER ALERT**
I will try not to give away plot points, but in so much as they are about the stance these books take vis-a-vis religion, it may be unavoidable.
I will try not to give away plot points, but in so much as they are about the stance these books take vis-a-vis religion, it may be unavoidable.
CONSIDER YOURSELF WARNED
So I read the first one as quickly as I could, getting very little sleep in the process. And it wasn't anti-religious, and certainly not anti-Christian. It was a great little adventure story about a bratty little girl, the world's awesomest pocket watch, some armored bears and a really evil monkey. It wasn't exactly what I'd consider a children's story, but it's themes regarding religion could be summed up as follows: "Religion is fine, whatever, and faith is really a good thing, but you know what sucks? The Spanish Inquisition. Yeah, religions should really avoid that Torquemada shit." Pete said that the real Anti stuff didn't occur until the second and third books, according to what he'd read about them, so of course I had to go on. The second book ("The Subtle Knife") did broaden the anti-religious sentiment. It's message was more: "Actually, now that I think about it, religion in general kind of sucks. Somaybeweshouldkillgodjustasuggestion. Or whatever." And I was left with the feeling that something had happened in the midst of writing the last quarter of the first book that had poisoned Pullman against the church as evinced by the second books more strident denunciation. Still, it wasn't exactly revolutionary. More like, "Well, if the church in this made up world is evil, maybe one should excise its black heart." It didn't imply, "The church in reality is evil. Seriously. Evil." And the story was still engaging - now there was a sullen boy character from our own world! and the world's awesomest knife! - so I forged ahead. (Actually, that makes it sound like work. I'll try again.) - so I excitedly started devouring the third book ("The Amber Spyglass"), anxious to see what would become of Lyra (bratty girl who is also inexplicably sympathetic) and Will (sullen boy who is necessarily sympathetic for putting up with Lyra).
The third book started out by pretty much shouting at the top of its voice: JUST IN CASE YOU MISSED IT BEFORE, UM, THIS IS AN ALLEGORY FOR HOW THE CHURCH IS EVIL AND NOW YOUR BELOVED CHARACTERS ARE GOING TO EMBARK ON A MISSION TO KILL GOD; TRY NOT TO STRESS OUT ABOUT IT TOO MUCH BECAUSE IT'S FOR THE BEST. And that was okay because up until that point they had primarily been adventure stories and that's what I was in them for anyway. Also, the baddest of the baddies (the one with the evil monkey) had yet to be dispatched, so I had that too look forward to. But then...
Wait, let me describe this book physically first, in case you haven't seen them. This is a 450 or so-page paperback in like 8pt type. It's not what I would call a long book, but I certainly wouldn't call it short. It's more like the book you take on vacation - it's good for 5 hours on a plane, half an hour to an hour every night before bed in your hotel room, and the 5 hours back home. In that size of an adventure/fantasy book I expect a main quest, one or two side quests, some kind of mystical destiny to be fulfilled, a Big Bad to be revealed, thwarted, reborn and then finally defeated, and then for either a family to be reunited or the protagonist to fall in love (it works if they just come to grips with the death of their parents or lover instead, if that's what's called for). Probably someone should make a noble sacrifice in there somewhere. If it's a book for adults, there will probably be some awkwardly written sex, but that's okay so long as no one's "manhood" throbs and no one feels "awash in womanly" anything. (PS: this is one of the primary reasons I prefer young adult sci-fi/fantasy as no one ever goes farther than kissing or virgin marriage.)
But what does "The Amber Spyglass" give you? Deus Ex Machina MacGuffin Quest 2008. It reads like a series of half-hour episode summaries for a British mini-series called Amber Spyglass. Every improbable idea works the first time, exactly as it's meant to. The magical items that propelled the plot of the first two books are suddenly MacGuffined for no clear reason. Why does it matter if so-and-so stole your awesome tool if you're never going to use it? Oh, because you needed a reason to go to this other place and steal this toy that for a while was also an awesome tool but now will also not be used. Even when they do use their magic items, one is given the impression by the ease with which they pick up these esoteric new skills that the item is itself irrelevant. And really, that would almost have been a more interesting story. What if Will didn't need a knife, subtle or otherwise, to cut his way into other parallel worlds? What if Lyra didn't need a golden symbol reader - or even a brass tack! - to understand the universe and answer impossible questions?
"The Amber Spyglass" is a little breathless at times. I think Pullman had enough ideas left over at the end of "The Subtle Knife" for about 10 books, but decided it had to be a trilogy because of God or Jesus or the Holy Ghost or someone, and so just crammed all the ideas he could into one book. The result is that the characters never have more than a moment for introspection or development and it is wearying. An example:
A: Hey, that's a neat watch.
B: Oh yeah? Thanks! Oh no, that man stole it!
A: Really? Well let's steal it back.
B: Oh no, it's not where we saw him leave it!
C: Hey kids, I'll make you a deal: I'll give you your watch if you get me a new spork.
B: Any spork?
C: No, a specific, magic spork, that makes everything taste like meatloaf and A-1.
A: K...
C: Oh, did I mention that it's in a parallel universe?
B: Hey, we're in the parallel universe. Thank god we just happened upon that door marked "Parallel Universe, In Here"
A: Oh no, some crazy guy has the spork!
B: Let's fight him.
D: Oh-you killed me! You're now the Spork Master!
A: Let's get my watch back.
B: Yeah, we have the watch and the Spork!
A: Let's go to Hades.
B: Okay!
A: Wow, Hades sucks.
B: Yeah, let's let all the dead out of it.
A: Good idea!
B: There you go, ghosts! Enjoy Not Hades!
A: Oh no, I'm captured!
B: I'll save you!
A: Safe - except for this new and even more random danger!
And it just goes on like that for 450+ pages.
Somewhere along the line Pullman just completely loses his authorial voice. I mean completely. In literary theory they talk about monovocality and polyvocality - all the characters having the author's voice and pushing forward his/her agenda versus all the characters having independent voices from the author's as well as independent agendas. The first truly polyvocal writers are said to be the 19th century Russians - Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, etc. - and when you compare them to say, Jane Austin, you can really see what a literary theorist is talking about. Normally I am irritated by monovocality, unless it is historically appropriate. For instance, George Sand's "Indiana" or Voltaire's "Candide" wouldn't be very good political statements if the characters could voice opinions that differed from the author's main purpose. But a good story, especially a good adventure, is always better when it's polyvocal. And that doesn't mean you can't hear the author: you can, it's just separate from the characters. An allegory kind of has to be monovocal, which is why complex adventure stories usually make poor allegories. Questing stories make excellent allegories; they're very linear. "The Golden Compass" was truly polyvocal, in my opinion. It was, at its heart, an adventure and Lyra had all the hallmarks of a great adventurer: brave, lucky, foolhardy, smart-assed, headstrong, loyal, clever, compassionate... The second book was pretty good that way too, although at times it seemed like the author was working a little too hard to force Lyra and Will into different voices every time they seemed to naturally align. The third book began the decent into allegory. And that's where Pullman really got lost. Rather than my usual complaints about a monovocality where polyvocality is warranted or vice versa, it was like Pullman himself didn't know what he was going for. There are whole sections of the book where I can almost hear him pacing behind me, fretting, "Oh dear oh dear oh dear," as he tries to stay true to his adventuring ideas (The world of the dead! Also: harpies!) and yet at the same time force it into an allegory-shaped box.
By the end, the dialog doesn't even sound like the same characters any more. They're completely washed out. And that is when you can really begin to see the author's philosophical struggle. On the one hand, he wants to make sure you understand that Religion Is Bad And Evil And The Source Of All Suffering, so he has to set his characters up for heartbreak so you'll want them to succeed. But he loves his characters: Will and Lyra are his children. So he wants them to be happy and then they are. But that seems to imply that all it takes to be happy in the world is to reject religion, and that becomes its own religion, so they have to continue to suffer so that you know that's just how the world is. But that shouldn't make up doubt that the world has the potential to be a nice and good place! So then he gets all hopeful again. The ending is so sugar-coatedly twee, so transparently uplifting and inspiring, that it even as it made my eyes tear up and my chest heavy with sadness for these two sweet-hearted little kids I'd been rooting for, it also made my eyes roll. Pete thinks there should be a word for that, crying and eye rolling. He suggested Crainge, like cry+cringe.
So what is the bottom line. The bottom line is that "The Amber Spyglass" was wholly unsatisfying. I'm sitting here right now wishing I knew what happened to Lyra and Will. Only I do know. What happened was so super saturated with adventure and doe-eyed adoration it read like fan fiction and therefore doesn't really feel like part of the story. Here is a summary of how "The Amber Spyglass" ultimately concludes its tail:**SPOILERS**
Two 12-year olds maybe have sex and that saves the world from pouring all of its consciousness into a great abyss. Religion is bullshit, but ESPECIALLY Christianity - one character actually says, "Christianity got it completely wrong" which lead me to say to myself, "Bone to pick much?" which when I type it doesn't look like it makes much sense but it did in my head - and God is a hobbled old man who just wants to die, except that he's not even the creator because no one knows how that happened, but maybe it was just science or something. ANYWAY, the real meaning of life, the universe and everything is a balance between altruism and sensual pleasures (of which I'm sure there are exactly 42) and that's why it's okay for two 12-year olds to have sex (maybe - it says "they lay together" - about as subtle as a knife that cuts through anything).
Sigh. The worst part is that I can't stop thinking about it because it was so unsatisfying. If you've read these books, I'd be interested to know what you think. Or if you haven't read them. Either way. I've been harassing Pete with it all evening. And he was like, "Oh my God this is a lengthy blog post so please type it up and stop asking me if I think a confused authorial voice and allegory that might just be a bad metaphor or analogy makes for poor reader satisfaction!" So I'm posting a lengthy blog post and asking you: what do you think?
Friday, January 11, 2008
Weather, TV, Books - I have opinions!
Far be it from me to criticize the navigational abilities of weather, but I feel that we may need to stage an intervention. First, hurricane force winds and rain and flooding in NW Oregon. But okay, it's off the ocean, and the ocean is, if anything, powerfully unpredictable. Maybe even weather can't help that. But now a tornado? In VANCOUVER? I mean, that's just crazy talk! And it turns out there was an even more devastating tornado in Vancouver in 1972.
Momentary digression: I just saw an ad for the Portland Bridal Expo and it had some of the WORST film ever. The final images are of a "bride" traipsing down the runway and then a freeze frame right after she's turned. It's shot from below and at an angle, so imagine that her head is a straight vertical line at the center top of the shot; her body is a straight line from her neck to the bottom right corner of the screen, but turning in the middle so there's an almost nausiating sense of wrongness; her right arm is (if I remember correctly now) swinging out ahead of her from her far side, aimed towards the lower left corner; and her left arm is bent at the elbow, forming a triangle with her hip as the base and her elbow as the apex. The bouquet is in her left hand, looking stapled to her hip. And all of this is shot from below, so there are shadows under her chin and nose. It's a bridal expo, people: it's filled with people who know how to favorably photograph any bride in any light. But no: you picked the guy who usually shoots the car show because he knows the layout of the Expo Center already and will give you a discount if you buy him a hotdog.
Also, I've been reading a lot lately because... well, sadly, not because I love to read (which I do), but because of the writer's strike and Pete having Halo 3, Assassin's Creed, Mass Effect and now The Orange Box. [Fox 12 Morning Show update: one of their on-the-spot reporters is in a rented tux, dancing with a woman at the Expo Center. I think it's a very stiff box-step foxtrot. Oh God: he's trying to rumba and is doing that little twirling your hands and then shaking one to the side on the final beat thing. ::shudder::] I've read a lot of PD James mysteries, which I highly recommend. They're smart, James Doesn't try to prove to you that her detective is smart through gimmickry (like one writer who made a point of telling you that her main character had a 180 IQ, a perfect size-8 body and connections to Mossad in the first chapter of every book), they don't encourage you to solve the mystery yourself -although you sometimes can- and they don't usually end in the detective squaring off against his foe in a mano a mano battle to the death. I would start with an early one, like "A Mind to Murder" or "Unnatural Causes" before reading some of the later ones, like "The Black Tower" or "Death of an Expert Witness." The best of all (in my opinion, and of the one's I've read) is "Original Sin." It's like a thick set of character studies and is ultimately a rumination on the nature of family, personal loss, cruelty, revenge and forgiveness. But it helps to understand the main detective (Dalgliesh), although it isn't necessary to follow the plot.
I also just read "Stardust," which is a very sweet fairytale for adults because it has some cusses and some sex - but tasteful sex! It took about four hours to read, so if you've got a flight to take, it's the kind of paperback you can read on the plane and leave for the next passenger.
Yesterday I finished "The Golden Compass" and now I'm on to the second in that series, "The Subtle Knife." They're really good - fantasy adventure stories starring children without ever being cloying or new-agey. I picked them up because I was told they made fundamentalist christians mad and I had to know what all the fuss was about. The first one is more, "Oh, and also, in this world the Church is more like the Spanish Inquisition Church than the Church of today, and that's bad." But the second one is proving to be more, "And religion in general is a bad thing, tearing apart the universe and sending jackbooted thugs to your door." But we'll see. Mostly they're just really fun to read without making me cry (::coHARRYPOTTERugh::).
Momentary digression: I just saw an ad for the Portland Bridal Expo and it had some of the WORST film ever. The final images are of a "bride" traipsing down the runway and then a freeze frame right after she's turned. It's shot from below and at an angle, so imagine that her head is a straight vertical line at the center top of the shot; her body is a straight line from her neck to the bottom right corner of the screen, but turning in the middle so there's an almost nausiating sense of wrongness; her right arm is (if I remember correctly now) swinging out ahead of her from her far side, aimed towards the lower left corner; and her left arm is bent at the elbow, forming a triangle with her hip as the base and her elbow as the apex. The bouquet is in her left hand, looking stapled to her hip. And all of this is shot from below, so there are shadows under her chin and nose. It's a bridal expo, people: it's filled with people who know how to favorably photograph any bride in any light. But no: you picked the guy who usually shoots the car show because he knows the layout of the Expo Center already and will give you a discount if you buy him a hotdog.
Also, I've been reading a lot lately because... well, sadly, not because I love to read (which I do), but because of the writer's strike and Pete having Halo 3, Assassin's Creed, Mass Effect and now The Orange Box. [Fox 12 Morning Show update: one of their on-the-spot reporters is in a rented tux, dancing with a woman at the Expo Center. I think it's a very stiff box-step foxtrot. Oh God: he's trying to rumba and is doing that little twirling your hands and then shaking one to the side on the final beat thing. ::shudder::] I've read a lot of PD James mysteries, which I highly recommend. They're smart, James Doesn't try to prove to you that her detective is smart through gimmickry (like one writer who made a point of telling you that her main character had a 180 IQ, a perfect size-8 body and connections to Mossad in the first chapter of every book), they don't encourage you to solve the mystery yourself -although you sometimes can- and they don't usually end in the detective squaring off against his foe in a mano a mano battle to the death. I would start with an early one, like "A Mind to Murder" or "Unnatural Causes" before reading some of the later ones, like "The Black Tower" or "Death of an Expert Witness." The best of all (in my opinion, and of the one's I've read) is "Original Sin." It's like a thick set of character studies and is ultimately a rumination on the nature of family, personal loss, cruelty, revenge and forgiveness. But it helps to understand the main detective (Dalgliesh), although it isn't necessary to follow the plot.
I also just read "Stardust," which is a very sweet fairytale for adults because it has some cusses and some sex - but tasteful sex! It took about four hours to read, so if you've got a flight to take, it's the kind of paperback you can read on the plane and leave for the next passenger.
Yesterday I finished "The Golden Compass" and now I'm on to the second in that series, "The Subtle Knife." They're really good - fantasy adventure stories starring children without ever being cloying or new-agey. I picked them up because I was told they made fundamentalist christians mad and I had to know what all the fuss was about. The first one is more, "Oh, and also, in this world the Church is more like the Spanish Inquisition Church than the Church of today, and that's bad." But the second one is proving to be more, "And religion in general is a bad thing, tearing apart the universe and sending jackbooted thugs to your door." But we'll see. Mostly they're just really fun to read without making me cry (::coHARRYPOTTERugh::).
Thursday, August 02, 2007
Ian McEwan Writes The Books I Wish I Wrote
I just finished On Chesil Beach and it is really beautiful. I wrote a review on Facebook and I'm too lazy to copy it here. But there is something I left out of the review because it was without context. A couple months ago when I read The Historian I complained that no one can write a decent sex scene. They're usually awkward, embarrassing and definitely not sexy. Mostly I feel like they miss the whole point of sex, focusing on the erotic as though it is mutually exclusive from love or kindness or friendship. Now that I put that in words, it seems really clichéd, which isn't how I meant it at all. It is just to say that most sex scenes in books seem to be detached from the overall narrative, these intense moments of passion, gratification and sometimes joy, when in reality sex is (in my opinion) rarely all that separate from one's general narrative. But maybe I'm missing the point. I'll grant that could be the case. Ian McEwan, though, never misses the point. On Chesil Beach contains the most beautifully written sex scene I have ever read. And it's awkward virgin sex! The whole scene is built up to as part of the character construction as the plot centers around the wedding night of the two protagonists, Edward and Florence. The sex (which is rather graphically detailed - on a scale from "Pride & Prejudice" to "The Mammoth Hunters," it rates above a "Lady Chatterley's Lover" but maybe just below a "Mists of Avalon" because he doesn't euphemise) is never removed from the context of the characters' relationship. Florence is disgusted by the whole idea of physical intimacy, but is horrified at the idea that she might disappoint this man she loves so dearly. Edward has mistaken her fear and revulsion for coyness and is looking forward to finally consummating the relationship, which has him worried about poor performance. McEwan weaves all of their respective anxieties into the narrative of the experience. And although it is a cringingly awkward and shameful experience for the protagonists (as the loss of virginity is for any member of any rather closed society, as postwar England is painted in this novel), it was somehow still beautiful to read.
I finished this book yesterday and I feel lighter and somehow happier today for having read it. It's short - less than 200 pages, I think - and didn't take long to read. But it made me re-evaluate why we fall in love and when and how it happens. At some point in the book Edward realizes that though he is already in love with Florence, he feels a wave of additional fondness wash over him and realizes that the joy of truly loving someone isn't something that sits with you always at the same level, but is rather something that comes in waves. The message I took away from it is that one can fall in love with the same person again and again without ever falling out of love with them. And I think that's true (I know it's true for me). So read this book! Or anything by Ian McEwan, really. But if you're looking for something short and brilliant and beautiful, pick this one.
I finished this book yesterday and I feel lighter and somehow happier today for having read it. It's short - less than 200 pages, I think - and didn't take long to read. But it made me re-evaluate why we fall in love and when and how it happens. At some point in the book Edward realizes that though he is already in love with Florence, he feels a wave of additional fondness wash over him and realizes that the joy of truly loving someone isn't something that sits with you always at the same level, but is rather something that comes in waves. The message I took away from it is that one can fall in love with the same person again and again without ever falling out of love with them. And I think that's true (I know it's true for me). So read this book! Or anything by Ian McEwan, really. But if you're looking for something short and brilliant and beautiful, pick this one.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Yes, I suck at blogging
I know, I know, I should post more often. Or ever. Baby steps, Sydney. But I have gotten super busy at work and super lazy at home. I have so many things I've been meaning to blog about... Off the top of my head, all I can come up with is:
READ "THE BLIND SIDE" BY MICHAEL LEWIS! OR PERISH!
But that's less because I so intensely want to blog about how AWESOME that book is and more because that book is so intensely AWESOME I keep bringing it up, even in totally inappropriate contexts. "You know Gramma, your desire to hold onto all of your old crap is just like Bill Parcell's desire to hold onto his stupid belief that the real key to football is all in the brawn and not in the strategy." Gramma says, "I hope Atlanta doesn't beat up on my Braves too badly... I hate Atlanta..." Yes, it's a football book. And yes, I loved it, so other non-sports people, you have to read it too. OR PERISH!
Also, Pete is worse than useless when it comes to remembering things that I wanted to blog about. It's almost like he's not actually in my head at all. This is good to know, as we are planning to get married this summer. I'm pretty sure that shouldn't be in my vows, though: "To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, whether you remember what I want to blog about or not..."
So that is why I have not posted anything. I've been working. And lazy. And did I mention being lazy? Because that's really the crux of the problem. Perhaps when Pete and I get our own place, and I have a desk again, I will be better about posting. Because then the lazy won't be amplified by the inferno-like heat of my computer melting my lap.
READ "THE BLIND SIDE" BY MICHAEL LEWIS! OR PERISH!
But that's less because I so intensely want to blog about how AWESOME that book is and more because that book is so intensely AWESOME I keep bringing it up, even in totally inappropriate contexts. "You know Gramma, your desire to hold onto all of your old crap is just like Bill Parcell's desire to hold onto his stupid belief that the real key to football is all in the brawn and not in the strategy." Gramma says, "I hope Atlanta doesn't beat up on my Braves too badly... I hate Atlanta..." Yes, it's a football book. And yes, I loved it, so other non-sports people, you have to read it too. OR PERISH!
Also, Pete is worse than useless when it comes to remembering things that I wanted to blog about. It's almost like he's not actually in my head at all. This is good to know, as we are planning to get married this summer. I'm pretty sure that shouldn't be in my vows, though: "To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, whether you remember what I want to blog about or not..."
So that is why I have not posted anything. I've been working. And lazy. And did I mention being lazy? Because that's really the crux of the problem. Perhaps when Pete and I get our own place, and I have a desk again, I will be better about posting. Because then the lazy won't be amplified by the inferno-like heat of my computer melting my lap.
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