scrolling through the list of suggestions provided by my library (supposedly based on my reading history and habits), I came across the clearly chick-lit cover of austensibly ordinary by alyssa goodnight.
I knew some things right away, like,
1 this was a real cute retelling of one -- or possibly all! -- the austen novels, and
2 it sucked.
judgy mcjudgerson, book by its cover.
I made a bet with myself and clicked on the book link, just to be met by this review: "Sexy, saucy, fun! Jane Austen would be proud!"
-__-
I rarely feel so much rage towards an inanimate object -- or inane reviewer, who probably doesn't even know the author misspelled 'ostensibly' to make a painfully meaningless title just to recall an author who would actually hate it. no, worse: she'd laugh at it.
I don't think of myself as a janeite, but I am well-versed in her work and hold the classic lit of the classic brit in great veneration. I am not above satirical derivative works; I am not above adaptions (LBD was brilliant). but this is a cheap shot.
this is a woman who has misunderstood the fundamental meaning of austen's work, and done the exact thing austen was protesting when she shaped her heroines -- and heroes -- in the quiet drawing-room.
for jane, it's not about the romance. it's about the development. romance is almost the macguffin to get the characters to become better people. the goal of the story is not a resolved relationship -- none of the heroines set out to gain one.
for jane, it's about the women! it's not about how they need/want to be married/going steady with a really hot guy. in jane's time, marriage was status and life was hard for a single woman, so she ends her novels with married (read: secure & happy) heroines. but it's really about how they grow and become real people with real voices, if only in their immediate communities. the fact that they couldn't be respected before marriage may be a failing of society jane herself didn't recognize or feel capable of combatting, but she's working with what she has.
goodnight's book & others like it just reduce women to sex and relationship objects. it's all about them finding their match -- instead of having or developing worth on their own.
no, jane was not opposed to novels and disagreed with their detractors. novels are fun. but her "novels are fun" message appears within the novel she wrote to make fun of an overwrought storyline (see northanger abbey). compare to goodnight's stupid paranormal diary. austen would write a satire of this, if she could make it through the book in the first place.
moving away from jane, goodnight doesn't understand how austen plots work. unable to draw a good character herself, she can't even understand how a good character operates. she draws on superficial similarities (single cate = single emma; single friend evan = single mr. knightley) when the real similarities would be in their relationship (cate, full of herself and her abilities, would try to make decisions for the people she patronizes; evan, fed up with her selfishness, would tell her the tough truth. instead, we get sex-crazed cate who wants to date someone -- ANYONE!!! -- and evan who plays a little hard-to-get & mysterious). emma & knightley show real love, growing to put the other's best interests first; every successful austen couple has their relationship tested by hard-truth-telling -- not by a one-night stand with a guy whose tousled brown hair (...honestly...) makes you weak in the knees.
some subpoints about goodnight's book:
- it's the mark of a weak author who has to use implausibility as a motivator. when you have to make up fantastical happenings to move your plot along, you have a poor plot.*
*I'm not talking about a fantasy story, where the fictional world is founded upon principles that don't exist in ours. those should still be consistent within themselves, but I'm talking about a story set in our world that has to use ***MaGiC!!!*** because the author can't figure out how to get the characters out of a situation without just deus-ex-machinating them out of it.
- the petulant "heroine" is given lines in an attempt at clever banter, but it's just not. it's not even amusing. it's just stupid, and anyone who thinks it's funny hasn't read enough actual good written conversation. ...hey, I know a good author for that! jane austen!
probably my biggest issue: the point of mr. darcy. is not. to. be. hot. I don't know what austen people are reading. yes, darcy is rich. darcy is handsome. also, darcy is proud. darcy is rude to the people he sees as beneath him, which would be everyone he doesn't know who is also poor and/or uneducated (in the social niceties or intellectually). darcy is kind of a stick-in-the-mud even at the end. and heck, he's super awkward.
I love him as a character; I love that austen takes typical human foibles and works them out of him through a similarly obnoxious (but slightly more lovable) character and helps them make each other better people. would darcy be my favorite hero if he weren't so cliched? perhaps (but srsly henry tilney u guise). THAT STILL DOESN'T GIVE HIM A BROODING SMOLDER.
true love has never been built on a brooding smolder, plus darcy doesn't brood; he is disgusted with the pleb. that's you. do you think darcy would smolder broodingly at you, reader of alyssa goodnight, or do you think he would mutter "every savage can read" as he looks to caroline for the only source of civilized, educated conversation in the room? if you read it and think you're lizzy, you're actually behaving like lydia. darcy would as soon call your mother a wit.
austen wasn't about sex. austen wasn't about sauciness for sauciness' sake. austen was about questioning the social mores to determine what is actually right? what is actually equal? why do we do what we do, and how can we be happy even within unfair constraints? she used relationships to show those things, and yes, to give us the neat, happy ending we all want to see. "sonny, true love is the greatest thing in the world -- except for a nice MLT, mutton lettuce and tomato sandwich, where the mutton is sliced thin and the tomato is ripe. so perky, I love that."
I think austen would be amused and horrified at this book, which reduces the theoretically well-educated and thoughtful cate to a man-hungry, emotionally immature kindergartner. goodnight -- while claiming, through cate, to be an avid fan and deep reader of austen's novels -- writes a novel that mistakes jane's real messages and mistakes the actions of jane's characters. cate has to "make her own happy ending" like austen's heroines?? none of them does that. not a single one is on the lookout for a happy ending (read: relationship!) and in fact the characters who are (LYDIA) are examples of what not to do.
relationships come as the heroines are ready, and we see a plethora of bad combos in the secondaries: marriage for convenience, not love (charlotte + collins), marriage for love with little respect (jane f + frank c), marriage for superficial attraction (mr. + mrs. bennet), marriage for material gain (willoughby + miss grey), just sex (lydia + wickham, col. brandon's niece + willoughby), marriage for immediacy (charles + whichever elliot sister he married & regretted because he likes anne better). the only relationships that work are ones built on mutual esteem and respect, and that sets the foundation for true love whether before or after marriage: the gardiners. the darcys. the ferrars. the tilneys. the wentworths.
there is sexual tension in goodnight's story. there is physical attraction. there is flirtation and "witty" banter (reminds me of marianne and willoughby, those eternal symbols of constancy and truth). but there is no mutual respect and esteem. there is no true friendship, which is putting the friend first by speaking the hard truth that they need to hear. you want to read jane austen fanfic? okay. honestly, that's personal taste, and we aren't all going to agree on what should or shouldn't be liked. but you can't call it in any way like jane austen -- and certainly not something jane austen would like -- just because some superficial plot points resemble one another.
plus that's such a weird use of "ostensibly."
- - -
huge disclaimer: I didn't read the book. I read the first two chapters (library sample), and then I read several synopses and reviews on personal blogs and goodreads. ...positive reviews, no less, by people who gave this book five stars for its hilarity and engaging fun (like this one). I can only go off my excerpt (and to me, trust me, it was plenty) and the summary of the plot provided by people who "can't recommend it enough". take my discussion with a grain of salt, and form your own opinion -- which is all any of us can ever do, really.
Showing posts with label loathers are going to loathe. Show all posts
Showing posts with label loathers are going to loathe. Show all posts
03 July 2018
27 December 2014
:: penny for your thoughts ::
or, rather, mine.
this year...
- I was afraid. I've been worried about money, school, scholarships, time, deadlines, my future; I've been worried that life will lose its sparkle as I grow into plodding adulthood. I know adulthood doesn't have to be plodding, but I worry that mine will be, and I worry that I'm lying to myself about the gorgeousness of life just because I haven't had to face the real it yet.
- I was also courageous -- taking each day (or in the case of homework, each week) as it came. I appreciated the small things and the small moments: walking in beautiful leaves and sunshine to my next class. watching the rain fall and drinking a cup of tea before moving on to my next assignment. going to bed on time and not going to the library (these are the days which try men's souls).
and I thanked my gracious God for them.
- I tried especially to live life. I realized that rushing from thing to thing to thing, trying to accomplish "enough" that I could sit down and relax, I'd never get there. I lived thinking more about above and less about below -- or, really, more about below in the context of above. it's so easy to get out of perspective.
- I lived joyfully and gladly and trusting that the One who holds everything in His Hands is holding me.
- I learned to trust God more. as I tried and prayed and tried some more, even as I felt my life falling apart around me, I did find a trust and a peace I couldn't have imagined.
- I found once again that autumn is beautiful. I think I would like to die during autumn.
- I found once again that robert frost captures beautiful thoughts in beautiful words.
you know, two years ago I was taking psych, and in the workbook accompanying my textbook, there was this fascinating article on personal change -- both physically and personality-wise. the author made the point that our bodies are constantly generating new cells as the old cells age and die, and that in a certain amount of time (not long, honestly; only a few years), our bodies are literally different bodies. -- this is probably common knowledge, but it's fueled my thought for going on two years now, so I wanted to mention it.
so, my point. I find it fascinating to realize that my body is constantly changing. on one hand, I'm almost sad that this good ol' body of mine isn't really the friend I thought it was. this is a new one. this is an interloper. at the same time, it's a little freeing to realize that this body now will be totally different in the future. (although I don't know what exactly it's freeing from. but okay.) it mirrors -- hopefully -- my growth as a person, and the person I am now is not the person I will be ten years from now. the identifying personality marks I have, like the physical birthmark on my left calf (true story), will always be there, but somehow I will be different; and right now, I am a different person from who I was even at the beginning of the year.
I do hope that's a good thing.
this year...
- I was afraid. I've been worried about money, school, scholarships, time, deadlines, my future; I've been worried that life will lose its sparkle as I grow into plodding adulthood. I know adulthood doesn't have to be plodding, but I worry that mine will be, and I worry that I'm lying to myself about the gorgeousness of life just because I haven't had to face the real it yet.
- I was also courageous -- taking each day (or in the case of homework, each week) as it came. I appreciated the small things and the small moments: walking in beautiful leaves and sunshine to my next class. watching the rain fall and drinking a cup of tea before moving on to my next assignment. going to bed on time and not going to the library (these are the days which try men's souls).
and I thanked my gracious God for them.
- I tried especially to live life. I realized that rushing from thing to thing to thing, trying to accomplish "enough" that I could sit down and relax, I'd never get there. I lived thinking more about above and less about below -- or, really, more about below in the context of above. it's so easy to get out of perspective.
- I lived joyfully and gladly and trusting that the One who holds everything in His Hands is holding me.
- I learned to trust God more. as I tried and prayed and tried some more, even as I felt my life falling apart around me, I did find a trust and a peace I couldn't have imagined.
- I found once again that autumn is beautiful. I think I would like to die during autumn.
- I found once again that robert frost captures beautiful thoughts in beautiful words.
ah, when to the heart of man
was it ever less than a treason
to go with the drift of things,
to yield with a grace to reason,
and bow and accept the end
of a love or a season?
and this year I really lived to its fullest.
you know, two years ago I was taking psych, and in the workbook accompanying my textbook, there was this fascinating article on personal change -- both physically and personality-wise. the author made the point that our bodies are constantly generating new cells as the old cells age and die, and that in a certain amount of time (not long, honestly; only a few years), our bodies are literally different bodies. -- this is probably common knowledge, but it's fueled my thought for going on two years now, so I wanted to mention it.
so, my point. I find it fascinating to realize that my body is constantly changing. on one hand, I'm almost sad that this good ol' body of mine isn't really the friend I thought it was. this is a new one. this is an interloper. at the same time, it's a little freeing to realize that this body now will be totally different in the future. (although I don't know what exactly it's freeing from. but okay.) it mirrors -- hopefully -- my growth as a person, and the person I am now is not the person I will be ten years from now. the identifying personality marks I have, like the physical birthmark on my left calf (true story), will always be there, but somehow I will be different; and right now, I am a different person from who I was even at the beginning of the year.
I do hope that's a good thing.
23 December 2014
:: this is the rhythm of my life ::
it's like my very own awards show. woo!
best music video of 2014: billy boyd - the last goodbye
album of my year: the jane eyre musical soundtrack. I cannot say how many memories I have with this thing. dorky? absolutely. but whatever.
artist of my year: rogue valley. their smoky, natural acoustics are some of my across-the-board favorites. they remind me of autumn and growing up.
some songs just remind you of things. this year was especially that way, with all the big events in my life seeming to coincide perfectly with the songs I was listening to. these probably wouldn't mean much to anyone else, but they are all very evocative for me :)
JANUARY - let her go (passenger)
FEBRUARY - love somebody (maroon 5)
MARCH - mummer's dance (loreena mckennitt)
APRIL - young hearts (strange talk)
MAY - best day of my life (american authors)
JUNE - make a new dance up (hey ocean!)
JULY - sky full of stars (coldplay)
AUGUST - heading west (hadley fraser)
[listen to the whole amazing album here!]
SEPTEMBER - mountain laurels (rogue valley)
OCTOBER - october winds (cara dillon)
NOVEMBER - tonight the streets are ours (richard hawley)
DECEMBER - don't you worry child (keith jack / swedish house mafia)
[no, they didn't sing together. I love both versions, but I don't think you can get kj's version anywhere yet -- other than his album.]
my top 5 paper-writing/studying artists
1. phil coulter
2. piano guys
3. secret garden
4. yann tiersen
5. mannheim steamroller
my 15 most-listened-to songs from 2014
in no particular order
hey brother (avicii)
shut up & dance (walk the moon)
love you lately (daniel powter)
there never was a time (scarlet pimpernel concept; linda eder?)
ugly heart (g.r.l.)
laughter lines (bastille)
gone, gone, gone (phillip phillips)
come what may (collabro)*
beautiful times (owl city)
walk on the ocean (toad the wet sprocket)
after the storm (mumford & sons)
through the dark (1d)
drops of jupiter (train)
let's be still (head and the heart)
see you in my dreams (we the kings)
*I have only had three-and-a-half months in which to listen to this; but as much as I've listened to, say, the 'ocean eyes' album or 'bad day', I think I've managed to break even.
now I have this insatiable itch (...urm, I think that borders on mixed metaphor) to listen to all these songs again. oh gosh, it's been such a good year.
best music video of 2014: billy boyd - the last goodbye
album of my year: the jane eyre musical soundtrack. I cannot say how many memories I have with this thing. dorky? absolutely. but whatever.
artist of my year: rogue valley. their smoky, natural acoustics are some of my across-the-board favorites. they remind me of autumn and growing up.
some songs just remind you of things. this year was especially that way, with all the big events in my life seeming to coincide perfectly with the songs I was listening to. these probably wouldn't mean much to anyone else, but they are all very evocative for me :)
JANUARY - let her go (passenger)
FEBRUARY - love somebody (maroon 5)
MARCH - mummer's dance (loreena mckennitt)
APRIL - young hearts (strange talk)
MAY - best day of my life (american authors)
JUNE - make a new dance up (hey ocean!)
JULY - sky full of stars (coldplay)
AUGUST - heading west (hadley fraser)
[listen to the whole amazing album here!]
SEPTEMBER - mountain laurels (rogue valley)
OCTOBER - october winds (cara dillon)
NOVEMBER - tonight the streets are ours (richard hawley)
DECEMBER - don't you worry child (keith jack / swedish house mafia)
[no, they didn't sing together. I love both versions, but I don't think you can get kj's version anywhere yet -- other than his album.]
my top 5 paper-writing/studying artists
1. phil coulter
2. piano guys
3. secret garden
4. yann tiersen
5. mannheim steamroller
my 15 most-listened-to songs from 2014
in no particular order
hey brother (avicii)
shut up & dance (walk the moon)
love you lately (daniel powter)
there never was a time (scarlet pimpernel concept; linda eder?)
ugly heart (g.r.l.)
laughter lines (bastille)
gone, gone, gone (phillip phillips)
come what may (collabro)*
beautiful times (owl city)
walk on the ocean (toad the wet sprocket)
after the storm (mumford & sons)
through the dark (1d)
drops of jupiter (train)
let's be still (head and the heart)
see you in my dreams (we the kings)
*I have only had three-and-a-half months in which to listen to this; but as much as I've listened to, say, the 'ocean eyes' album or 'bad day', I think I've managed to break even.
now I have this insatiable itch (...urm, I think that borders on mixed metaphor) to listen to all these songs again. oh gosh, it's been such a good year.
22 December 2014
:: a series of fortunate books ::
WELCOME to my annual (as of now) year wrap-up! YAY!
I was originally going to do one nice, long "2014 is almost done and this is how I've spent it" post. but a year is too long for one post, so I'm splitting the definitive parts up over several days -- and enjoy it over one week, instead.
today I have a cup of cocoa and a good book -- it's weally lovely -- but not really. what I have is a whole linear year of good-book-ness, which is even lovelier. and (almost unmitigatedly [made-up word]) fortunate. and I will face the Great Unknown with confidence and not keep crying about my favorite characters and their untimely demises.
even though that's ALWAYS what happens.
total books read this year: 157**
(rereads: 43
new reads: whatever 157 - 43 is. 114. yeah.)
top ten new reads (again, an * means tears were involved!)
1. never let me go (kazuo ishiguro)*
2. the book thief (markus zusak)*
3. night (elie wiesel)*
4. shirley (charlotte brontë)*
5. fahrenheit 451 (ray bradbury)
6. when you reach me (rebecca stead)*
7. pelican brief (john grisham)
8. black moth (georgette heyer)
9. devil in the white city (erik larson)
10. rosencrantz and guildenstern are dead (tom stoppard)
and a bonus!! the acts of king arthur and his noble knights (translated by john steinbeck)
top five rereads
1. dune (frank herbert)
2. tuck everlasting (natalie babbitt)
3. beyond the desert gate (mary ray)
4. science fair (dave barry & ridley pearson)
5. enchantress from the stars (sylvia engdahl)
bottom six reads (several of which also reduced me to tears. of frustration.)
6. trilby (george du maurier)
it didn't pack the punch I expected; more mediocre than anything.
5. the inner society (melinda louise bohannon)
an odd mix of dystopian sci-fi, christian romance, and personal growth/man-vs.-self story. with a
little bit of this-is-the-epitome-of-teenage-awesome wishful thinking on the author's part. plus
bad prose.
4. tom jones (henry fielding)
too many pages for the plot depth. also I just couldn't like the protagonist -- and the excuses
everyone made for him when he did wrong things. you can't just let him get away with that.
nobody would ever like him for real!!
3. rookie bookie (l. jon wortheim & tobias moskowitz)
stereotypical children's-book kid/parent relationship, which totally turned me off, and the little
economic lessons were terribly integrated. the book was pathetic.
2. captivating (john & stasi eldredge)
this could wreck someone's faith. the values are utterly misplaced and their whole intention -- of
'justifying the ways of God to man', so to speak -- is unfounded in Scripture. like, if you're going
to write a book for christians, use christian values. not hollywood. which they literally do.
and the worst... mr. knightley's diary (amanda grange)
this review sums it up for me. just go read emma.
top five poetry anthologies
1. the best poems of the english language (harold bloom)
2. collected poems of robert service (robert service)
3. collected lyrics (written & compiled by edna st. vincent millay)
4. the top 500 poems (william harmon)
5. child's anthology of poetry (elizabeth hauge sword)
author of the year: lemony snicket!
no, he didn't make it on my top 10 new reads (although the end would have, but I'd forgotten night and didn't want to make the list 12-long). for me, though, it wasn't one particular book as it was all of them together. I've read more snicket books this year than any other author; and really, the way he's impacted my year -- personally and family-wise -- I think he makes the top. this will always be The Year of Lemony Snicket to me, and that's the way I like it.
beatrice.
(sniffles a little bit)
2015 plans
- I have to read book 3 in the 'all the wrong questions' series!! I'm dying of suspense.
- keep using gutenberg.org. I have discovered some fantastic books there.
- read more josephine tey. I've read three of hers so far (brat ferrars, daughter of time, and singing
sands) and I really like her style.
- definitely read more john grisham. I cannot get enough :)
- find -- and read! -- a shropshire lad (a. e. housman).
- then of course I have a list of to-reads that I usually keep with me but forget about when I'm at the
library...
and that was my year in books! I am so looking forward to 2015.
-
**so far. the year ain't over yet.
I was originally going to do one nice, long "2014 is almost done and this is how I've spent it" post. but a year is too long for one post, so I'm splitting the definitive parts up over several days -- and enjoy it over one week, instead.
today I have a cup of cocoa and a good book -- it's weally lovely -- but not really. what I have is a whole linear year of good-book-ness, which is even lovelier. and (almost unmitigatedly [made-up word]) fortunate. and I will face the Great Unknown with confidence and not keep crying about my favorite characters and their untimely demises.
even though that's ALWAYS what happens.
total books read this year: 157**
(rereads: 43
new reads: whatever 157 - 43 is. 114. yeah.)
top ten new reads (again, an * means tears were involved!)
1. never let me go (kazuo ishiguro)*
2. the book thief (markus zusak)*
3. night (elie wiesel)*
4. shirley (charlotte brontë)*
5. fahrenheit 451 (ray bradbury)
6. when you reach me (rebecca stead)*
7. pelican brief (john grisham)
8. black moth (georgette heyer)
9. devil in the white city (erik larson)
10. rosencrantz and guildenstern are dead (tom stoppard)
and a bonus!! the acts of king arthur and his noble knights (translated by john steinbeck)
top five rereads
1. dune (frank herbert)
2. tuck everlasting (natalie babbitt)
3. beyond the desert gate (mary ray)
4. science fair (dave barry & ridley pearson)
5. enchantress from the stars (sylvia engdahl)
bottom six reads (several of which also reduced me to tears. of frustration.)
6. trilby (george du maurier)
it didn't pack the punch I expected; more mediocre than anything.
5. the inner society (melinda louise bohannon)
an odd mix of dystopian sci-fi, christian romance, and personal growth/man-vs.-self story. with a
little bit of this-is-the-epitome-of-teenage-awesome wishful thinking on the author's part. plus
bad prose.
4. tom jones (henry fielding)
too many pages for the plot depth. also I just couldn't like the protagonist -- and the excuses
everyone made for him when he did wrong things. you can't just let him get away with that.
nobody would ever like him for real!!
3. rookie bookie (l. jon wortheim & tobias moskowitz)
stereotypical children's-book kid/parent relationship, which totally turned me off, and the little
economic lessons were terribly integrated. the book was pathetic.
2. captivating (john & stasi eldredge)
this could wreck someone's faith. the values are utterly misplaced and their whole intention -- of
'justifying the ways of God to man', so to speak -- is unfounded in Scripture. like, if you're going
to write a book for christians, use christian values. not hollywood. which they literally do.
and the worst... mr. knightley's diary (amanda grange)
this review sums it up for me. just go read emma.
top five poetry anthologies
1. the best poems of the english language (harold bloom)
2. collected poems of robert service (robert service)
3. collected lyrics (written & compiled by edna st. vincent millay)
4. the top 500 poems (william harmon)
5. child's anthology of poetry (elizabeth hauge sword)
author of the year: lemony snicket!
no, he didn't make it on my top 10 new reads (although the end would have, but I'd forgotten night and didn't want to make the list 12-long). for me, though, it wasn't one particular book as it was all of them together. I've read more snicket books this year than any other author; and really, the way he's impacted my year -- personally and family-wise -- I think he makes the top. this will always be The Year of Lemony Snicket to me, and that's the way I like it.
beatrice.
(sniffles a little bit)
2015 plans
- I have to read book 3 in the 'all the wrong questions' series!! I'm dying of suspense.
- keep using gutenberg.org. I have discovered some fantastic books there.
- read more josephine tey. I've read three of hers so far (brat ferrars, daughter of time, and singing
sands) and I really like her style.
- definitely read more john grisham. I cannot get enough :)
- find -- and read! -- a shropshire lad (a. e. housman).
- then of course I have a list of to-reads that I usually keep with me but forget about when I'm at the
library...
and that was my year in books! I am so looking forward to 2015.
-
**so far. the year ain't over yet.
27 August 2014
:: famous, if only by association ::
if you haven't been living under a rock, you know about the pinterest monster, Crazy Cat Lady. she's the eccentric rich old introvert that every girl wants to be right about now, because we all like to think we're a little different, we'd all love to be rich, old not so much but at least past awkward youth, and introvert because it's really super-trendy to be all, "yeah, so, I don't care what anybody thinks, and, like, I just want to lie around in my pjs and whatever, you want to judge me, I don't care" -- mainly because these are skinny, cute, made-up girls with great hair and adorable lounge pants.
*takes deep breath*
SO.
I am practically famous.
BECAUSE THERE IS A CRAZY CAT GIRL IN MY DRAWING CLASS.
like, she is... she is IT. okay, not rich, and not old, and not really an introvert; nor does she have a lot of cats around; but, other than that -- this girl
IS NUTS.
okay, I shouldn't be all judgy mcjudgerson about her. yeah, she's a little quirky, maybe, but aren't we all??? (I've obviously learned a lot from all the diversity talks during various orientations.)
NO. EVEN THEY WOULD SAY SHE'S CRAZY.
she wants to get training in art to teach feline painting. -- that's not people, painting cats; OH NO, that's cats doing the artwork. she thinks they have a huge capacity for artistic expression and that -- and I quote -- "cats see what we don't see. humans do the same things, over and over, so I think we could really benefit from their point of view."
*runs screaming*
08 August 2014
:: coffee - a philosophical haiku ::
today is rainy
and cold. I'm sitting at my
desk. it's quite messy.
- - -
12 June 2014
:: my problems with most homeschooled authors ::
after my last post's general irritation with bad writing (in general) and fantasy (in particular), I realized something that bugs me even more than just badly-executed books like eragon or for darkness shows the stars are books that are… well, to be frank, self-published by for-the-most-part-conservative Christian homeschoolers. I have a few "enjoys" in my list of self-pub'd reads, but for the most part, people self-publish because publishers don't want what they have to offer.
publishers are businesses. they are looking out for what will make them money, which is selling a lot of books; they'll only sell a lot if the general public will buy a lot. so publishers are usually pretty up on current market trends and what people want.
if a publisher doesn't take your book, people don't want it.
don't publish it.
there's a large movement among the stay-at-home-daughter sector towards writing and self-publishing. I think this is because writing is something you can do from home and it's easier now than ever to spread the word (literally and figuratively). it's easy and it feels like you're really making a positive difference in the world, because "here is good, wholesome fiction that all my friends tell me is hugely enjoyable; it has some sneaky references to my favorite fairy tales, classic novel, or sci-fi fantasy. also, it means I'm not wasting my time as I wait for my future husband to sweep me off my feet and ride with me into the sunset! figuratively, of course."
this trend is extraordinarily discouraging, because for the most part… these girls are terrible. they don't know how to write fiction. people tend to think -- until recently, I did, too -- that practice makes perfect, and if they keep trying, they'll get better. I no longer believe this, because all I see is stagnation: no improvement whatsoever. I think this stems from how few of these girls see problems with the fundamental structure of their stories. they just don't know better, so they blissfully continue to churn out stale, clichéd re-dos of old plot lines.
I am a homeschooler. I have been a part of a larger homeschool group once, for a few months (and then we moved). I have little to no life experience, I have been sheltered, and I still like listening to the beach boys.
there, I said it. I listen to the beach boys. OKAY.
I do not at all look at the people around me and think they are somehow lesser because they are trying to spice up their lives. as often as I've said "I don't write," I actually have. somewhat frequently, when I was younger (although it's always been more poetry than prose). this is because I feel like there's something out there that I'm missing. our curriculum was literature-based, so I grew up on books like jane eyre, emma, a lion to guard us, the ramsay scallop, out of the dust, eagle of the ninth. I felt that that was what life was supposed to be! -- and it wasn't mine. I turned to writing, hoping that I could start something by writing "something odd happened today" -- how many girls begin their adventures that way? or "I woke up expectantly this morning; something is in the air" -- great catalyst for adventure, right?
so I think I understand the longing for something greater, more exciting, more vibrant than the life you have now. nor do I want to discourage anyone from writing to get it out! the difference is that people are putting this written product on the internet. the stuff that's being put on blogs now would never have seen the light of day 20 years ago. it wouldn't have made it. you'd pass your manuscript around to select friends and family, they'd pat you on the back (or the head) and if you ever sent it to someone professional, it would end up in the slush pile, and there's the end of it.
now, however, we have blogs. this means any- and everything gets paraded before the world, even if it's terrible, and that terrible is becoming the new standard. it's okay if you're bad; but putting the bad-ness out there for others to see doesn't make it good.
part of the difficulty these writers have is that same lack of experience I wrote about yesterday. they have little to no experience that applies to the stories they're trying to tell; they write about situations and topics very, very far removed from their own sphere of knowledge -- because this is how they can vicariously live a more exciting life. at some level these girls don't think they are capable of writing a true-to-life story (because they never seem to), and they circumvent this inability to create real, compelling characters by giving them pointy ears and calling them 'yevna' and saying, "well, it doesn't have to be like real life, because I'mliving in writing about a fantasy world!"
what's even more sad: a beautiful writing style would cover a multitude of sins, but among most of these I-want-to-be-a-writer people, coherent, flowing sentences are few and far between. and the dialogue is only worse.
my problems, in sum, are:
1. fantasy, by anyone. if everyone stopped thinking of fantasy as the only genre anyone will ever read, the number of dragon/elf/magicpeople books would drop and the occasional fairy would make for a cool twist on the usual. be original, truly creative -- instead of trying to be the next r. j. anderson, christopher paolini, cornelia funke, or (heaven forbid) j. r. r. tolkein.
3. homeschoolers writing badly, in general. THIS SHOULD BE AN OXYMORON. you have parents whose sole job is to train you and educate you. a big part of that education should be how to successfully communicate.
so why. do you write. that terribly.
maybe your mom wasn't a great writer and your dad doesn't know how. heck, take a writing class and learn. take it online. take it from a conservative, Christian university. but stop cementing bad practices and insisting it will make perfect, because it won't. and please learn how before you spend your dad's hard-earned money on self-publishing overused plots that nobody but your friends will read.
and these are my problems with the homeschooled, Christian writer circles.
publishers are businesses. they are looking out for what will make them money, which is selling a lot of books; they'll only sell a lot if the general public will buy a lot. so publishers are usually pretty up on current market trends and what people want.
if a publisher doesn't take your book, people don't want it.
don't publish it.
there's a large movement among the stay-at-home-daughter sector towards writing and self-publishing. I think this is because writing is something you can do from home and it's easier now than ever to spread the word (literally and figuratively). it's easy and it feels like you're really making a positive difference in the world, because "here is good, wholesome fiction that all my friends tell me is hugely enjoyable; it has some sneaky references to my favorite fairy tales, classic novel, or sci-fi fantasy. also, it means I'm not wasting my time as I wait for my future husband to sweep me off my feet and ride with me into the sunset! figuratively, of course."
this trend is extraordinarily discouraging, because for the most part… these girls are terrible. they don't know how to write fiction. people tend to think -- until recently, I did, too -- that practice makes perfect, and if they keep trying, they'll get better. I no longer believe this, because all I see is stagnation: no improvement whatsoever. I think this stems from how few of these girls see problems with the fundamental structure of their stories. they just don't know better, so they blissfully continue to churn out stale, clichéd re-dos of old plot lines.
I am a homeschooler. I have been a part of a larger homeschool group once, for a few months (and then we moved). I have little to no life experience, I have been sheltered, and I still like listening to the beach boys.
there, I said it. I listen to the beach boys. OKAY.
I do not at all look at the people around me and think they are somehow lesser because they are trying to spice up their lives. as often as I've said "I don't write," I actually have. somewhat frequently, when I was younger (although it's always been more poetry than prose). this is because I feel like there's something out there that I'm missing. our curriculum was literature-based, so I grew up on books like jane eyre, emma, a lion to guard us, the ramsay scallop, out of the dust, eagle of the ninth. I felt that that was what life was supposed to be! -- and it wasn't mine. I turned to writing, hoping that I could start something by writing "something odd happened today" -- how many girls begin their adventures that way? or "I woke up expectantly this morning; something is in the air" -- great catalyst for adventure, right?
so I think I understand the longing for something greater, more exciting, more vibrant than the life you have now. nor do I want to discourage anyone from writing to get it out! the difference is that people are putting this written product on the internet. the stuff that's being put on blogs now would never have seen the light of day 20 years ago. it wouldn't have made it. you'd pass your manuscript around to select friends and family, they'd pat you on the back (or the head) and if you ever sent it to someone professional, it would end up in the slush pile, and there's the end of it.
now, however, we have blogs. this means any- and everything gets paraded before the world, even if it's terrible, and that terrible is becoming the new standard. it's okay if you're bad; but putting the bad-ness out there for others to see doesn't make it good.
part of the difficulty these writers have is that same lack of experience I wrote about yesterday. they have little to no experience that applies to the stories they're trying to tell; they write about situations and topics very, very far removed from their own sphere of knowledge -- because this is how they can vicariously live a more exciting life. at some level these girls don't think they are capable of writing a true-to-life story (because they never seem to), and they circumvent this inability to create real, compelling characters by giving them pointy ears and calling them 'yevna' and saying, "well, it doesn't have to be like real life, because I'm
what's even more sad: a beautiful writing style would cover a multitude of sins, but among most of these I-want-to-be-a-writer people, coherent, flowing sentences are few and far between. and the dialogue is only worse.
my problems, in sum, are:
1. fantasy, by anyone. if everyone stopped thinking of fantasy as the only genre anyone will ever read, the number of dragon/elf/magicpeople books would drop and the occasional fairy would make for a cool twist on the usual. be original, truly creative -- instead of trying to be the next r. j. anderson, christopher paolini, cornelia funke, or (heaven forbid) j. r. r. tolkein.
2. homeschoolers writing bad fantasy. do you realize the image you're putting out there, of all of us? we all look incapable of writing about anything other than lotr, chronicles of narnia, and the occasional period drama -- which extensive life experience gets poured into tales of imaginary creatures. who have remarkably familiar names, like elves. and do these polite things, crazily reminiscent of old-fashioned manners.
huh. wonder why.3. homeschoolers writing badly, in general. THIS SHOULD BE AN OXYMORON. you have parents whose sole job is to train you and educate you. a big part of that education should be how to successfully communicate.
so why. do you write. that terribly.
maybe your mom wasn't a great writer and your dad doesn't know how. heck, take a writing class and learn. take it online. take it from a conservative, Christian university. but stop cementing bad practices and insisting it will make perfect, because it won't. and please learn how before you spend your dad's hard-earned money on self-publishing overused plots that nobody but your friends will read.
and these are my problems with the homeschooled, Christian writer circles.
11 June 2014
:: how to write something worth reading ::
(warning: I don't follow my own advice.)
writing fiction is no mean task. I've tried before, and it takes a certain measure of talent and know-how to come up with something good (which I've never done, and that's how I know). unfortunately, there are a lot of people out there who misguidedly believe that all it takes is a love for books -- any kind of books! read all the books! -- and a pencil.
or in my pet peeve's case, a blog. (see next post.)
I'm not a fantastic writer, myself, of fiction or non-. I couldn't sit down and give someone a great overview of what makes good writing good writing, although I can pick it out. I want to address instead what makes good reading. what makes a book compelling? relatable? a classic?
today I have two samples of writing. read them. compare them. comments to follow.
number one:
number two:
the answer is obvious: the second one. the first has a terrible flow, bad grammar, confusing statements (and I read the entire short story, only a paragraph or two longer than this excerpt. I'm still confused). even though I'm trying to focus on the themes, not the writing, the utter badness (in all aspects) of the first comes out and whacks me in the face.
the second is muted, vague, but still powerful, with beautiful imagery, well-crafted prose, and a relatable-ness utterly lacking in the first excerpt.
why is one so good and one so bad? here is my theory as to what makes good reading.
- - -
to write well. good writing isn't just a thrilling story, not just a satisfying end, and it is definitely not a calling-forth of emotion. a book may make you cry, and a good book probably will -- but a book is not judged by the emotion you feel in response, any more than a book is judged by the quality of the cover (although in both cases, they're sometimes good estimates. just saying).
remember: I am not addressing the mechanics of writing itself. (that can be fixed with relative ease.)
to write well, I believe you have to have
1. insight into a universal issue.
2. a universal truth in response to, or as resolution for, that issue.
3. personal experience of this universal topic.
example 1. you are gay and understand the pressures of society to 'conform or you'll be an outcast'; you write a story in which a girl feels this same pressure as she faces marriage to a man she doesn't love, and the story resolves with her braving the societal outrage as she chooses the man she'd rather marry and finds true happiness.
insights: we all feel different from everybody else. we all want to be special.
truth: love (I'm special to someone). forgiveness (my seemingly wrecked relationships can be mended). friendship (there are others like me; I'm not alone).
personal experience: he knew he was different from others in a way that they didn't accept; he still found meaningful relationships.
example 2. you are a moderately-educated daughter of a country rector, keenly conscious of class differences and arbitrary societal rules; you write a story about a middle-class girl who first scorns the higher-class for their snobby behavior (and is scorned in return for her uneducated connections), until she comes to realize that she's no better -- eventually marrying someone of higher class who recognizes she is worth her character, rather than her inelegant extended family.
insights: everyone thinks they're better than someone else. there's always someone who has it better than we do.
truth: humility (jumping to conclusions makes me [wrongly] judge others). love (I can give the benefit of the doubt). self-sacrifice (I'd rather my beloved be happy than me; but when he's happy, I'm happy).
personal experience: she felt downtrodden, as part of a lower class and as a woman; but she proved that all people of all classes were worth just as much, by showcasing talent society thought a woman (and poor, at that) couldn't have.
and if I could bring my point home, the first example is a room with a view by e. m. forster, and the second is pride and prejudice by jane austen. see? they had the insight, the truths, and the experience to write a compelling story. multiple, in fact.
the problem with books today is that too many "writers", having only vicariously lived through (often mediocre) fiction, are trying to write stories about topics with which they have no experience and without the fundamental knowledge they need to make their work resonate on a deeper level with their readers.
I think this is why so few teen authors have a lasting impact: they're too young, both for the life knowledge required to identify the common denominators of human existence, and for the experience needed to add depth and feeling to their narrative. not that it's impossible: we've read to kill a mockingbird for over 50 years now, and the outsiders for almost as long. but those girls had experience most kids their age didn't have.
this also, I think, is why there are so few sci-fi/fantasy classics -- and I mean, that are put in the same category as war and peace, a tale of two cities, homer's odyssey, les miserables. science fiction is fantastical, unrealistic, untrue to life as we know it; and that definitive trait is the same that makes it hard to find parallels between the story and, well, life as we know it. since fantasy is not real by definition, the imaginary-ness becomes an extra hurdle the author must jump over in order to represent any real-person, real-world struggles to the real people who are trying to identify with it. the excellence with which tolkien and frank herbert created worlds very different and yet very similar to ours rightly earned their books "classic" status; but that's not something you see every day.
what you do see every day, though, are scores of people who opt to write fantasy because they don't think there are rules to writing it. and I am sick of the fantasy genre, sick of reading sucky stories about magic and improbable worlds because the authors can't write worth a squash, but try to disguise it beneath randomly-lettered names and creatures with odd body parts.
it's important to be able to do the lesser before the greater. olympic ice skaters don't start by learning how to perform a double axel; they start by learning how to move forward on the ice. if I could offer one piece of advice to budding writers, merely as an interested reader:
DON'T WRITE ANYTHING BUT REALISTICALLY UNTIL YOU'RE ACTUALLY GOOD AT IT.
writing fiction is no mean task. I've tried before, and it takes a certain measure of talent and know-how to come up with something good (which I've never done, and that's how I know). unfortunately, there are a lot of people out there who misguidedly believe that all it takes is a love for books -- any kind of books! read all the books! -- and a pencil.
or in my pet peeve's case, a blog. (see next post.)
I'm not a fantastic writer, myself, of fiction or non-. I couldn't sit down and give someone a great overview of what makes good writing good writing, although I can pick it out. I want to address instead what makes good reading. what makes a book compelling? relatable? a classic?
today I have two samples of writing. read them. compare them. comments to follow.
number one:
I remove my mask and close my eyes, as the villainy in me is once more buried. I hate that I am a villain, and that it is my brother against whom I must fight. I sigh. But there is nothing I can do about it. One cannot rebel against the HaV Academy and their schemes. I take a deep breath and go to the garden that my brother has placed within my lair. When our masks are off, we are completely civil to each other. Indeed, as far as anyone knows, we never fight. ...But that's because we have to fight when our masks are on. Quietly I pick sufficient food for Willow, then head to the dungeon and place the food through the wall. I do not allow her to see my face. Then I head back to my room and change completely into normal civilian clothing. I then make my way through the tunnel that leads to the small home that my brother and I share. By now he, too is back into his normal clothing. "I wish we didn't have to do these sort of things," I tell my brother. "I know," he replies. "I know." We both enjoy our powers, mine over the inorganic, his over the organic. But we hate that we have to fight each other, that we cannot stand the sight of each other in our masks. We hate that I must be a villain. But there is nothing for it. We must live our lives like this until we have been replaced, and, at this moment, replacement is a long ways away.
number two:
All along the fence, especially along the lower line of wire, all sorts of rubbish had caught and tangled. It was like the debris you get on a seashore: the wind must have carried some of it for miles and miles before finally coming up against these trees and these two lines of wire. Up in the branches of the trees, too, I could see, flapping about, torn plastic sheeting and bits of old carrier bags. That was the only time, as I stood there, looking at that strange rubbish, feeling the wind coming across those empty fields, that I started to imagine just a little fantasy thing, because this was Norfolk after all, and it was only a couple of weeks since I'd lost him. I was thinking about the rubbish, the flapping plastic in the branches, the shore-line of odd stuff caught along the fencing, and I half-closed my eyes and imagined this was the spot where everything I'd lost since my childhood had washed up, and I was now standing here in front of it, and if I waited long enough, a tiny figure would appear on the horizon across the field, and gradually get larger until I'd see it was Tommy, and he'd wave, maybe even call. The fantasy never got beyond that -- I didn't let it -- and though the tears rolled down my face, I wasn't sobbing or out of control. I just waited a bit, then turned back to the car, to drive off to wherever it was I was supposed to be.you choose. which is better?
the answer is obvious: the second one. the first has a terrible flow, bad grammar, confusing statements (and I read the entire short story, only a paragraph or two longer than this excerpt. I'm still confused). even though I'm trying to focus on the themes, not the writing, the utter badness (in all aspects) of the first comes out and whacks me in the face.
the second is muted, vague, but still powerful, with beautiful imagery, well-crafted prose, and a relatable-ness utterly lacking in the first excerpt.
why is one so good and one so bad? here is my theory as to what makes good reading.
- - -
to write well. good writing isn't just a thrilling story, not just a satisfying end, and it is definitely not a calling-forth of emotion. a book may make you cry, and a good book probably will -- but a book is not judged by the emotion you feel in response, any more than a book is judged by the quality of the cover (although in both cases, they're sometimes good estimates. just saying).
remember: I am not addressing the mechanics of writing itself. (that can be fixed with relative ease.)
to write well, I believe you have to have
1. insight into a universal issue.
2. a universal truth in response to, or as resolution for, that issue.
3. personal experience of this universal topic.
example 1. you are gay and understand the pressures of society to 'conform or you'll be an outcast'; you write a story in which a girl feels this same pressure as she faces marriage to a man she doesn't love, and the story resolves with her braving the societal outrage as she chooses the man she'd rather marry and finds true happiness.
insights: we all feel different from everybody else. we all want to be special.
truth: love (I'm special to someone). forgiveness (my seemingly wrecked relationships can be mended). friendship (there are others like me; I'm not alone).
personal experience: he knew he was different from others in a way that they didn't accept; he still found meaningful relationships.
example 2. you are a moderately-educated daughter of a country rector, keenly conscious of class differences and arbitrary societal rules; you write a story about a middle-class girl who first scorns the higher-class for their snobby behavior (and is scorned in return for her uneducated connections), until she comes to realize that she's no better -- eventually marrying someone of higher class who recognizes she is worth her character, rather than her inelegant extended family.
insights: everyone thinks they're better than someone else. there's always someone who has it better than we do.
truth: humility (jumping to conclusions makes me [wrongly] judge others). love (I can give the benefit of the doubt). self-sacrifice (I'd rather my beloved be happy than me; but when he's happy, I'm happy).
personal experience: she felt downtrodden, as part of a lower class and as a woman; but she proved that all people of all classes were worth just as much, by showcasing talent society thought a woman (and poor, at that) couldn't have.
and if I could bring my point home, the first example is a room with a view by e. m. forster, and the second is pride and prejudice by jane austen. see? they had the insight, the truths, and the experience to write a compelling story. multiple, in fact.
the problem with books today is that too many "writers", having only vicariously lived through (often mediocre) fiction, are trying to write stories about topics with which they have no experience and without the fundamental knowledge they need to make their work resonate on a deeper level with their readers.
I think this is why so few teen authors have a lasting impact: they're too young, both for the life knowledge required to identify the common denominators of human existence, and for the experience needed to add depth and feeling to their narrative. not that it's impossible: we've read to kill a mockingbird for over 50 years now, and the outsiders for almost as long. but those girls had experience most kids their age didn't have.
this also, I think, is why there are so few sci-fi/fantasy classics -- and I mean, that are put in the same category as war and peace, a tale of two cities, homer's odyssey, les miserables. science fiction is fantastical, unrealistic, untrue to life as we know it; and that definitive trait is the same that makes it hard to find parallels between the story and, well, life as we know it. since fantasy is not real by definition, the imaginary-ness becomes an extra hurdle the author must jump over in order to represent any real-person, real-world struggles to the real people who are trying to identify with it. the excellence with which tolkien and frank herbert created worlds very different and yet very similar to ours rightly earned their books "classic" status; but that's not something you see every day.
what you do see every day, though, are scores of people who opt to write fantasy because they don't think there are rules to writing it. and I am sick of the fantasy genre, sick of reading sucky stories about magic and improbable worlds because the authors can't write worth a squash, but try to disguise it beneath randomly-lettered names and creatures with odd body parts.
it's important to be able to do the lesser before the greater. olympic ice skaters don't start by learning how to perform a double axel; they start by learning how to move forward on the ice. if I could offer one piece of advice to budding writers, merely as an interested reader:
DON'T WRITE ANYTHING BUT REALISTICALLY UNTIL YOU'RE ACTUALLY GOOD AT IT.
12 April 2014
:: the bathroom is my favorite room in the house ::
= a freewritten essay, sort of =
is that weird? I feel like for most people their favorite room would be their room -- or kitchen -- or studio. yet my reasons for my favorite are just as good as theirs. probably better.
the bathroom is my favorite room because it has almost everything, not just necessary for survival (like water), but the luxurious extras.
aspirin. for when you have headaches.
hairspray. to cause headaches.
mouthwash. to taste horrible.
toothbrushes. to get rid of the mouthwash.
toilet plungers. for aesthetics.
all you have to do is install a fridge -- or just carry in a plate -- and you'll never have to go. (I mean "leave". not "relieve".)
next, I love the bathroom because it's nigh unto impossible to stay in there and not get clean. I love to be clean, and the bathroom provides a near-infinite array of options unto that end. also cleanliness is next to godliness, an added bonus.
the bathroom is awesome too because it becomes a sanctuary for all my deepest thoughts. why do I blossom into The World's Next Most Influential Metaphysicist, Philosopher, And General Genius With All The Answers while in the bathroom? maybe it's something in the air, or the toothpaste (I buy crest whitening with scope, if you're interested). I don't know, but the bathroom always elevates my mind to soar beyond previously-discovered intellectual heights as my physical self stands firmly planted in reality (or possibly sits). ironic, perhaps. nonetheless true.
therefore I love the bathroom. its promotion of cleanliness, deep thinking, and privacy has quickly propelled it to become my favorite room in the house; also the fact that I always leave the bathroom feeling better than when I entered it.
that's a hard act to follow.
- - -
28 February 2014
:: another warning - this is about 1d ::
"that's controversial!"
all good opinions are, sweetheart.
and this is one heck of a good opinion.
so I was listening to 'story of my life' for the, like, 6,000th time since october and something hit me, so utterly genius I had to share it.
consider the first part of the chorus.
the story of my life
I take her home
I drive all night to keep her warm
and time is frozen
okay, what are their three albums? take me home. up all night. midnight memories. (so that's not in order. work with me, here.) let's see:
the story of their lives
they "take me home"
they're "up all night"
to keep her warm so that one doesn't quite fit but be a sport
and time is frozen (like, memories? get it?)
I think that's pretty cool.
that is pretty cool, right? I mean, I suppose it could be kind of... convoluted. like, I didn't totally squeeze meaning into it, did I? it sounded so good in my head!
all good opinions are, sweetheart.
and this is one heck of a good opinion.
so I was listening to 'story of my life' for the, like, 6,000th time since october and something hit me, so utterly genius I had to share it.
consider the first part of the chorus.
the story of my life
I take her home
I drive all night to keep her warm
and time is frozen
okay, what are their three albums? take me home. up all night. midnight memories. (so that's not in order. work with me, here.) let's see:
the story of their lives
they "take me home"
they're "up all night"
to keep her warm so that one doesn't quite fit but be a sport
and time is frozen (like, memories? get it?)
I think that's pretty cool.
that is pretty cool, right? I mean, I suppose it could be kind of... convoluted. like, I didn't totally squeeze meaning into it, did I? it sounded so good in my head!
24 January 2014
:: oh the humanity ::
we all can agree that sir walter scott wrote good books, right? and that he was the author of several classics? and that his books could rightly be called "literature"? okay.
can we come to a common consensus about debbie macomber, too -- that she writes cheap romances? can we agree that none of her books will be remembered in fifty years (at least not for their quality)? and that what she writes cannot be called "literature"*? okay.
… and they call themselves "the literature network"?!
the irony is killing me.
*by "literature", I mean "good". "of quality", "worthwhile", "improving". not "words on a page that you can read if you have the ability and inclination".
can we come to a common consensus about debbie macomber, too -- that she writes cheap romances? can we agree that none of her books will be remembered in fifty years (at least not for their quality)? and that what she writes cannot be called "literature"*? okay.
 |
| this makes me want to punch someone. |
… and they call themselves "the literature network"?!
the irony is killing me.
*by "literature", I mean "good". "of quality", "worthwhile", "improving". not "words on a page that you can read if you have the ability and inclination".
07 January 2014
:: in defense of myself ::
I kind of threw that little short story out there, not expecting anyone to read it, and kind of hoping no one would. it's one of those personal things -- you don't realize how much of you it is until you give it away.
honestly, I know it's crappy writing. I sent it to my writing teacher as this extracurricular critique and she said there should be more dialogue (and I don't remember if she said, or I just felt this vibe, "DON'T WRITE SO MANY PASSIVE SENTENCES!").
still, also honestly, I love it. maybe it's that 'curse of knowledge' thing (psych, guys. take AP psych, it's the best thing you'll ever do) -- I know what I mean, and I can't separate that from what I actually say, while you just read the words and miss any underlying meaning that my brain supplies for me. the prose is really heavy and dull and awful, though (not to mention some terrible sentence construction, sorry 'bout that). I know I tried way too hard to add these ridiculous layers of meaning, and I laid it on thick. the prose really reflects that, and probably the themes come out and whack you in the face like the B in "suBtle".
I try. I really do.
but back to that "I love it" thing. I do; and when I think about it, that's probably because 1. I love the poem. always have, always will. (if you cut out a few words, you can fit it to the tune of 'shenandoah'. don't ask me how I know.) 2. I developed this woman; she is like me; she is unlike me; she is a part of me. I know her.
this woman is complex. this woman is completely shallow. yet the shallowness is complex.
she liked attention and the idea of a romantic attachment outside of her rank. (remember, I had to read into the poem. in that, I don't think she's quite this bad: it's more of an indifference -- as far as love goes -- towards him, and he realizes, when he dies, she'll be a little sad but it won't affect her that much. oh, poor boy, she'll think "a little sadly," [emph. mine] but more complacently than anything else. in my story I added a lot of stormy emotion that isn't … really … accurate….) she liked that the dude was all, "I love your pilgrim soul and the sorrows of your changing face, yo" but didn't honestly care for him. he's not so brash as to ask that she leave her money/family/status for him, but she considers it and decides, nah, material stuff is more important to me. when he finally realizes, it's this sort of arthur clennam/flora experience: ajskjgjdkjaklf you are NOT what I thought you were. so -- in my story -- he leaves. he says, you're not worth it, and I can't stick around forever. I've got a life.
except that he dies. (don't make me cry.) when she realizes he's totally, irredeemably gone, I think she also sees he was more important to her than she thought and she regrets it; but...
here is the core of what I meant.
even in her regret -- perhaps true sorrow -- over his death, she still selfishly blames him and refuses to see her fault in it. the last clue I threw in there (tried to throw) was her angry half-thought: "why had he not, in those gone, bright days --". why had he not. not "why did I not".
I tried to have a theme of dryness running through: desiccated memories, dusty house, withered woman. the memories come rushing like a torrent of water. (and that is such a cliched phrase it makes me wince.) she's so lacking in love that she's dried out and bitter; she really hates those mountains because they remind her of what she loved about them -- their transience -- and what he loved -- their endurance. they remind her over and over of her true self; what she loves is still the shallow, petty, romantic sighing over "the true best that might have been"… but really couldn't. she didn't love him, she didn't love them, she didn't love anyone but herself. and now she's old. and now she has nothing. and it's her own fault.
I hate this woman. her pettiness, her drama, her short-sighted views and her selfishness. my writing teacher said it would be better with more dialogue; as far as writing goes, yes. but my point in writing it without spoken words (not just to echo the poem, which has only one line possibly spoken) was to emphasize her loneliness. she has no one to speak to; she will remain in quiet misery until the day she dies.
perhaps it's presumption to add so much to yeats's meaning, and he's obviously a better writer than I'll ever be. he conveyed his version of the story in 12 lines. that rhyme. my only excuse is that I LOVE YEATS, so if he's turning over in his grave…I'm sorry! this is just my little tribute to you and the lasting impression your poetry has left on me.
still, also honestly, I love it. maybe it's that 'curse of knowledge' thing (psych, guys. take AP psych, it's the best thing you'll ever do) -- I know what I mean, and I can't separate that from what I actually say, while you just read the words and miss any underlying meaning that my brain supplies for me. the prose is really heavy and dull and awful, though (not to mention some terrible sentence construction, sorry 'bout that). I know I tried way too hard to add these ridiculous layers of meaning, and I laid it on thick. the prose really reflects that, and probably the themes come out and whack you in the face like the B in "suBtle".
I try. I really do.
but back to that "I love it" thing. I do; and when I think about it, that's probably because 1. I love the poem. always have, always will. (if you cut out a few words, you can fit it to the tune of 'shenandoah'. don't ask me how I know.) 2. I developed this woman; she is like me; she is unlike me; she is a part of me. I know her.
this woman is complex. this woman is completely shallow. yet the shallowness is complex.
she liked attention and the idea of a romantic attachment outside of her rank. (remember, I had to read into the poem. in that, I don't think she's quite this bad: it's more of an indifference -- as far as love goes -- towards him, and he realizes, when he dies, she'll be a little sad but it won't affect her that much. oh, poor boy, she'll think "a little sadly," [emph. mine] but more complacently than anything else. in my story I added a lot of stormy emotion that isn't … really … accurate….) she liked that the dude was all, "I love your pilgrim soul and the sorrows of your changing face, yo" but didn't honestly care for him. he's not so brash as to ask that she leave her money/family/status for him, but she considers it and decides, nah, material stuff is more important to me. when he finally realizes, it's this sort of arthur clennam/flora experience: ajskjgjdkjaklf you are NOT what I thought you were. so -- in my story -- he leaves. he says, you're not worth it, and I can't stick around forever. I've got a life.
except that he dies. (don't make me cry.) when she realizes he's totally, irredeemably gone, I think she also sees he was more important to her than she thought and she regrets it; but...
here is the core of what I meant.
even in her regret -- perhaps true sorrow -- over his death, she still selfishly blames him and refuses to see her fault in it. the last clue I threw in there (tried to throw) was her angry half-thought: "why had he not, in those gone, bright days --". why had he not. not "why did I not".
I tried to have a theme of dryness running through: desiccated memories, dusty house, withered woman. the memories come rushing like a torrent of water. (and that is such a cliched phrase it makes me wince.) she's so lacking in love that she's dried out and bitter; she really hates those mountains because they remind her of what she loved about them -- their transience -- and what he loved -- their endurance. they remind her over and over of her true self; what she loves is still the shallow, petty, romantic sighing over "the true best that might have been"… but really couldn't. she didn't love him, she didn't love them, she didn't love anyone but herself. and now she's old. and now she has nothing. and it's her own fault.
I hate this woman. her pettiness, her drama, her short-sighted views and her selfishness. my writing teacher said it would be better with more dialogue; as far as writing goes, yes. but my point in writing it without spoken words (not just to echo the poem, which has only one line possibly spoken) was to emphasize her loneliness. she has no one to speak to; she will remain in quiet misery until the day she dies.
perhaps it's presumption to add so much to yeats's meaning, and he's obviously a better writer than I'll ever be. he conveyed his version of the story in 12 lines. that rhyme. my only excuse is that I LOVE YEATS, so if he's turning over in his grave…I'm sorry! this is just my little tribute to you and the lasting impression your poetry has left on me.
28 December 2013
:: 2013 in books, sort of ::
I love talking about myself, and I found a really fun list of questions to answer, thanks to this blog. here is the little button-thingy, because it adds to the aesthetic interest. hooray! ...but I didn't actually do the link-up, fyi.
so here goes: 20 questions about BOOKS -- et moi. also, je ne parle pas français, je just pretend. (maybe with google translate, but maybe not. I'll never tell.)
1} my overall favorite book this year
I kind of feel like giving up already. THIS IS ASKING TOO MUCH OF MEEEEE!!!! crud, I don't know. seriously. guhh.
but I guess since I won't be graded on sincerity, probably my favorite book this year was les miserables, brick version. it was fantastic. or maybe --
I know I'm not supposed to do this. I just can't help it. maybelanternbearersordune. (does saying it faster count as less cheating?)
2} favorite debut
um, I think the only book I read this year that was published this year was kirsten miller's the darkness dwellers (aka kiki strike #3). in that case, that would have to be my favorite, which sucks because #s 1 and 2 were awesome and #3 was not. oh well.
3} books I reread this year
oog. a lot. I'll list five I reread because of their "favorite" status.
- a room with a view, by e. m. forster
- the lantern bearers, by rosemary sutcliff
- count robert of paris, by sir walter scott
- the sherwood ring, by elizabeth marie pope
- baby, by patricia maclachlan
4} favorite covers
chaim potok's the chosen.
john knowles's a separate peace.
the cover pictures were actually taken by the same guy (marc yankus). I love his style. it's almost as good as the books themselves.
6} self-published books I read this year
meredith allady's friendship and folly and amy dashwood's only a novel. both are fantastic books, and meredith allady is one amazing lady. and amy. amy's awesome, too. hi, amy! (I can't resist. LBD is just that quotable.)
7} books that gave me a massive hangover
in a good way? les miserables. dune. less good? vanity fair. mill on the floss. horribly? brisingr. I couldn't stop ranting.
8} best standalone
just to shake things up, I'm going to say rebecca, by daphne du maurier. I swear, that book is one of the most-forgotten but most-deserving-of-classic-status ever. I really love it. (does the fact that the almost-as-good hitchcock movie exists make it not a standalone? because laurence olivier might have had something to do with my appreciation. just saying.)
9} biggest books I read this year
les misérables has made this list too many times already. (or is that not possible?) war & peace; vanity fair; gone with the wind.
10} books I followed for the hype, then loved
this hasn't ever happened. next!
11} most disappointing
definitely the darkness dwellers. WE EXPECTED SO MUCH, and then... oh, I can't start. I'll never stop. grrrrrrr.
12, 13} favorite leading-male and -female characters
winnie foster (tuck everlasting). aquila/dolphin (lantern bearers). but drem (warrior scarlet) and philip hepburn (sylvia's lovers) could both compete for that position. ...now that I think about it, so could andrei volkonsky and natasha what's-her-face (war & peace). quite the decisive person, am I not?
14} best romances
prince andrei and me. sir percy and me. courfeyrac and me. that IS what you were asking, isn't it?
no??
oh.
well then.
betty vanderpoel and james saltyre (the shuttle), for one. count robert of paris and his wife brenhilda (count robert of paris). drem and blai (warrior scarlet). alan and esther (bleak house). danny and maggie, haha (nothing to fear). lucy and george (a room with a view) (did you know I did their wedding invitations?). narrator and max de winter (rebecca). francie and ben (a tree grows in brooklyn).
okay. I need to stop. right now.
15} books that hit the DNF list
to tell the truth, the first book I ever recall not finishing (finishing is a point of honor with me, even if I hate the book) was this year.
the sound and the fury by william faulkner. it signified nothing to me.
seriously, though, I couldn't. it was too much to wade through, too few clues, and too little value to finish. so I didn't.
16} out-of-my-comfort-zone books that I read
dune. I generally avoid sci-fi, fantasy stories, but I heard really good things about it -- like from my dad. so I tried it and loved it. and hated it. ...it was one of those. I'm planning on reading it again, though (just not the sequels. kill me to death. once was enough!).
17} author I read the most
this year? probably rosemary sutcliff. I am an insatiable sutcliff fanatic. however, dickens (duh) and tolstoy could probably compete. and wilkie collins. henry james? elizabeth gaskell? ... I haven't counted.
18} top 5 books I'd recommend based on 2013
- war & peace
- p. g. wodehouse x)
- silver branch (the whole trilogy is... well... *sniff*)
- the woman in white
- murder of roger ackroyd
funny thing is, I could recommend each author, too. and also emmuska orczy, whose awesome books have really helped me through some hard times (like "I'm having a breakdown because there aren't any more sir percy books! WAAAAAH!" with "...wait, there's a sir-percy-was-based-off-of-him story? AWESOME!"). thanks, baroness.
19} how many books did I read this year?
I don't know! I can't answer this one. at least 50.
20} a book I'm hugely excited for in 2014
I don't know if it's coming out in 2014, but if it is... the next mysterious benedict society book. SQUEE. and, also "if", the next incorrigible children of ashton place. I love those, too.
crikey o'blimey, guys, that was one long post. sorry.
if you scrolled to the bottom to get a nice summary... long post short, I LOVE BOOKS. may you, too, enjoy the literature that comes your way :)
so here goes: 20 questions about BOOKS -- et moi. also, je ne parle pas français, je just pretend. (maybe with google translate, but maybe not. I'll never tell.)
1} my overall favorite book this year
I kind of feel like giving up already. THIS IS ASKING TOO MUCH OF MEEEEE!!!! crud, I don't know. seriously. guhh.
but I guess since I won't be graded on sincerity, probably my favorite book this year was les miserables, brick version. it was fantastic. or maybe --
I know I'm not supposed to do this. I just can't help it. maybelanternbearersordune. (does saying it faster count as less cheating?)
2} favorite debut
um, I think the only book I read this year that was published this year was kirsten miller's the darkness dwellers (aka kiki strike #3). in that case, that would have to be my favorite, which sucks because #s 1 and 2 were awesome and #3 was not. oh well.
3} books I reread this year
oog. a lot. I'll list five I reread because of their "favorite" status.
- a room with a view, by e. m. forster
- the lantern bearers, by rosemary sutcliff
- count robert of paris, by sir walter scott
- the sherwood ring, by elizabeth marie pope
- baby, by patricia maclachlan
4} favorite covers
chaim potok's the chosen.
john knowles's a separate peace.
the cover pictures were actually taken by the same guy (marc yankus). I love his style. it's almost as good as the books themselves.
6} self-published books I read this year
meredith allady's friendship and folly and amy dashwood's only a novel. both are fantastic books, and meredith allady is one amazing lady. and amy. amy's awesome, too. hi, amy! (I can't resist. LBD is just that quotable.)
7} books that gave me a massive hangover
in a good way? les miserables. dune. less good? vanity fair. mill on the floss. horribly? brisingr. I couldn't stop ranting.
8} best standalone
just to shake things up, I'm going to say rebecca, by daphne du maurier. I swear, that book is one of the most-forgotten but most-deserving-of-classic-status ever. I really love it. (does the fact that the almost-as-good hitchcock movie exists make it not a standalone? because laurence olivier might have had something to do with my appreciation. just saying.)
9} biggest books I read this year
les misérables has made this list too many times already. (or is that not possible?) war & peace; vanity fair; gone with the wind.
10} books I followed for the hype, then loved
this hasn't ever happened. next!
11} most disappointing
definitely the darkness dwellers. WE EXPECTED SO MUCH, and then... oh, I can't start. I'll never stop. grrrrrrr.
12, 13} favorite leading-male and -female characters
winnie foster (tuck everlasting). aquila/dolphin (lantern bearers). but drem (warrior scarlet) and philip hepburn (sylvia's lovers) could both compete for that position. ...now that I think about it, so could andrei volkonsky and natasha what's-her-face (war & peace). quite the decisive person, am I not?
14} best romances
prince andrei and me. sir percy and me. courfeyrac and me. that IS what you were asking, isn't it?
no??
oh.
well then.
betty vanderpoel and james saltyre (the shuttle), for one. count robert of paris and his wife brenhilda (count robert of paris). drem and blai (warrior scarlet). alan and esther (bleak house). danny and maggie, haha (nothing to fear). lucy and george (a room with a view) (did you know I did their wedding invitations?). narrator and max de winter (rebecca). francie and ben (a tree grows in brooklyn).
okay. I need to stop. right now.
15} books that hit the DNF list
to tell the truth, the first book I ever recall not finishing (finishing is a point of honor with me, even if I hate the book) was this year.
the sound and the fury by william faulkner. it signified nothing to me.
seriously, though, I couldn't. it was too much to wade through, too few clues, and too little value to finish. so I didn't.
16} out-of-my-comfort-zone books that I read
dune. I generally avoid sci-fi, fantasy stories, but I heard really good things about it -- like from my dad. so I tried it and loved it. and hated it. ...it was one of those. I'm planning on reading it again, though (just not the sequels. kill me to death. once was enough!).
17} author I read the most
this year? probably rosemary sutcliff. I am an insatiable sutcliff fanatic. however, dickens (duh) and tolstoy could probably compete. and wilkie collins. henry james? elizabeth gaskell? ... I haven't counted.
18} top 5 books I'd recommend based on 2013
- war & peace
- p. g. wodehouse x)
- silver branch (the whole trilogy is... well... *sniff*)
- the woman in white
- murder of roger ackroyd
funny thing is, I could recommend each author, too. and also emmuska orczy, whose awesome books have really helped me through some hard times (like "I'm having a breakdown because there aren't any more sir percy books! WAAAAAH!" with "...wait, there's a sir-percy-was-based-off-of-him story? AWESOME!"). thanks, baroness.
19} how many books did I read this year?
I don't know! I can't answer this one. at least 50.
20} a book I'm hugely excited for in 2014
I don't know if it's coming out in 2014, but if it is... the next mysterious benedict society book. SQUEE. and, also "if", the next incorrigible children of ashton place. I love those, too.
crikey o'blimey, guys, that was one long post. sorry.
if you scrolled to the bottom to get a nice summary... long post short, I LOVE BOOKS. may you, too, enjoy the literature that comes your way :)
11 December 2013
:: this is depressing, don't read it ::
in my real life, I've been kind of down. I know it only really surfaced in the last post, but... yeah.
I've been writing all this sad poetry and stuff, partly because that's what heroines in books do, and I'm doing my best to be a heroine (a la northanger abbey, chapter one). ...it's pretty weird when you think about it, so don't think about it.
I cannot seem to find anyone else who is interested in what I am interested in. old books. dead english people. yes, there are some interesting/fabulous blogs out there about similar things -- the victorian era, or books in general, or old things -- but none of them are what I'm looking for. people then have some quirk: "I WILL READ NOTHING BUT FANTASY" or "I've watched every single period drama out there and now I will tell you about them" or "let's talk about the one musical to rule them all LES MISERABLES and the other one PHANTOM and the other one WICKED and now let's shriek like agoraphobic lobsters".
DON'T GET ME WRONG. it's not that I don't have those moments (except the fantasy one. I don't really enjoy fantasy.) (okay, and I don't really love period dramas; some, but I've only seen a few.) (...I guess that leaves... one... category. awkward). it's that I like to discuss things, and as great as this blog has been for airing my opinions, it's hard to have a one-way discussion.
I'll just admit it. I was hoping to stumble across/get stumbled upon by someone who liked the same things I do, and we'd connect. like, you like dickens, I like dickens, shall we discuss the character development of dora spenlow while quoting our favorite lawyer eugene wrayburn? but that hasn't happened.
and the upshot of all this long-windedness is... I'm lonely.
loneliness does not lend itself to dynamic writing. if my posts are falling a little flat, I'm sorry. I don't feel carbonated any more. ...when your stupid jokes are so stupid they're just stupid, that's when you stop. I'm stopping.
I'll be back ...probably... when I'm feeling a little less cranky. bah humbug.
I've been writing all this sad poetry and stuff, partly because that's what heroines in books do, and I'm doing my best to be a heroine (a la northanger abbey, chapter one). ...it's pretty weird when you think about it, so don't think about it.
I cannot seem to find anyone else who is interested in what I am interested in. old books. dead english people. yes, there are some interesting/fabulous blogs out there about similar things -- the victorian era, or books in general, or old things -- but none of them are what I'm looking for. people then have some quirk: "I WILL READ NOTHING BUT FANTASY" or "I've watched every single period drama out there and now I will tell you about them" or "let's talk about the one musical to rule them all LES MISERABLES and the other one PHANTOM and the other one WICKED and now let's shriek like agoraphobic lobsters".
DON'T GET ME WRONG. it's not that I don't have those moments (except the fantasy one. I don't really enjoy fantasy.) (okay, and I don't really love period dramas; some, but I've only seen a few.) (...I guess that leaves... one... category. awkward). it's that I like to discuss things, and as great as this blog has been for airing my opinions, it's hard to have a one-way discussion.
I'll just admit it. I was hoping to stumble across/get stumbled upon by someone who liked the same things I do, and we'd connect. like, you like dickens, I like dickens, shall we discuss the character development of dora spenlow while quoting our favorite lawyer eugene wrayburn? but that hasn't happened.
and the upshot of all this long-windedness is... I'm lonely.
loneliness does not lend itself to dynamic writing. if my posts are falling a little flat, I'm sorry. I don't feel carbonated any more. ...when your stupid jokes are so stupid they're just stupid, that's when you stop. I'm stopping.
I'll be back ...probably... when I'm feeling a little less cranky. bah humbug.
17 October 2013
:: a slight change of pace ::
I've seen this "30-day song challenge" trending on quite a few blogs lately, and I was like SWEET, MAN, LET ME AT IT. but I realized as I listened to other people's songs that it really only means something the person doing it. I mean, I enjoy seeing what other people like, and I do listen to their songs.
most of them.
most of most of them.
...but even if someone else listened to the entirety of each of my songs, it wouldn't mean the same thing to them as it does to me. and let's face it, 30 days of imbedded youtube songs would be a bad idea because it's 30 days and that's just too long for a blog technically about books.
even so, I couldn't resist going through this song list and posting a few. feel free to come back later and skip this music-fest. (please don't judge my antiquated music choices. I know, some of these songs are from, like, 5 years ago.) (kidding. my favorite summer band is the beach boys. I'm still stuck in last century.) (guys. enough with the hipper-than-thou looks. it's called "vintage".)
- current favorite: "prairie town" by the wailin' jennys
- makes me happy: "on top of the world" by the carpenters
it just reminds me of kidhistory's 'healthy food'. see minute 2:25. haha.
- makes me sad: "never-ending road" by loreena mckennitt
apparently she wrote this after her fiancé drowned in a boating accident. it's heartbreakingly sweet and sad.
- I dance to:
"best song ever" by 1d (watch until the credits. not as creepy, way funnier.)
"calcutta" by dr. bombay (great dance music. slightly amusing to watch. very hilarious english.)
- from a band I hate: "call me maybe" by carly rae jepsen
I got so tired of hearing this song ALL OF 2012, GOOD GRIEF. she opened for the jb concert my sister went to by singing "your heart is a muscle". ...I know. I know. plus, I just find her personally obnoxious. (note: the best thing about this song is the last 2 seconds of the music video. HA HA serves you right for giving your number to a complete stranger! didn't your mother ever warn you about this??)
- no one would expect me to love: "all around the world" by justin bieber
no, I'm not a belieber or even big on jb. I just really enjoy the song.
- describes me: "melody" by kate earl and "independence" by the band perry
I do "play songs back-to-back until I go to bed". and there is one line from "independence" that is so me: they say I'm crazy / a little loco / most of my friends will live and die in this zip code / that might be for me / but until I go / how am I ever supposed to know? (...which reminds me of this poem.)
- which I listen to when I'm feelingangry nostalgic: "life in a northern town" by dream academy
(I changed #20 because I don't listen to music when I'm angry. is that odd?) this song has always been the epitome of nostalgia for me. even when I was 13. isn't there a law somewhere that you can't feel nostalgic until you actually have a reason to? :)
- makes me laugh:
"rugs from me to you" by owl city
"self-indulgent ballad" by scott garnham
"lady come down" by colin firth & rupert everett (*laughs inordinately*)
- to play at my wedding: "more" by bobby darin
- favorite song this time last year: "till I hear you sing" by ramin
that last note: he held it for 14. seconds.
(I'm not used to using youtube for music; I'd highly recommend using grooveshark.com. just about every song on here is find-able there, and you can listen without the added video. I really don't like video+song when I only want song.)
most of them.
most of most of them.
...but even if someone else listened to the entirety of each of my songs, it wouldn't mean the same thing to them as it does to me. and let's face it, 30 days of imbedded youtube songs would be a bad idea because it's 30 days and that's just too long for a blog technically about books.
even so, I couldn't resist going through this song list and posting a few. feel free to come back later and skip this music-fest. (please don't judge my antiquated music choices. I know, some of these songs are from, like, 5 years ago.) (kidding. my favorite summer band is the beach boys. I'm still stuck in last century.) (guys. enough with the hipper-than-thou looks. it's called "vintage".)
- current favorite: "prairie town" by the wailin' jennys
- makes me happy: "on top of the world" by the carpenters
it just reminds me of kidhistory's 'healthy food'. see minute 2:25. haha.
- makes me sad: "never-ending road" by loreena mckennitt
apparently she wrote this after her fiancé drowned in a boating accident. it's heartbreakingly sweet and sad.
- I dance to:
"best song ever" by 1d (watch until the credits. not as creepy, way funnier.)
"calcutta" by dr. bombay (great dance music. slightly amusing to watch. very hilarious english.)
- from a band I hate: "call me maybe" by carly rae jepsen
I got so tired of hearing this song ALL OF 2012, GOOD GRIEF. she opened for the jb concert my sister went to by singing "your heart is a muscle". ...I know. I know. plus, I just find her personally obnoxious. (note: the best thing about this song is the last 2 seconds of the music video. HA HA serves you right for giving your number to a complete stranger! didn't your mother ever warn you about this??)
- no one would expect me to love: "all around the world" by justin bieber
no, I'm not a belieber or even big on jb. I just really enjoy the song.
- describes me: "melody" by kate earl and "independence" by the band perry
I do "play songs back-to-back until I go to bed". and there is one line from "independence" that is so me: they say I'm crazy / a little loco / most of my friends will live and die in this zip code / that might be for me / but until I go / how am I ever supposed to know? (...which reminds me of this poem.)
- which I listen to when I'm feeling
(I changed #20 because I don't listen to music when I'm angry. is that odd?) this song has always been the epitome of nostalgia for me. even when I was 13. isn't there a law somewhere that you can't feel nostalgic until you actually have a reason to? :)
- makes me laugh:
"rugs from me to you" by owl city
"self-indulgent ballad" by scott garnham
"lady come down" by colin firth & rupert everett (*laughs inordinately*)
- to play at my wedding: "more" by bobby darin
- favorite song this time last year: "till I hear you sing" by ramin
that last note: he held it for 14. seconds.
(I'm not used to using youtube for music; I'd highly recommend using grooveshark.com. just about every song on here is find-able there, and you can listen without the added video. I really don't like video+song when I only want song.)
07 October 2013
:: the return of the native, yo ::
I being the native, returning.
yeah.
important things first: MY VACATION WAS ABSOLUTELY SPLENDIFEROUS. I love the beach, and kitty hawk is amazing, and it was the off-season so everything is empty, but it's fall so the weather was spectacular. OBX FTW.
we got in at 2 am last night, and this morning we had doughnuts, which is always a good way to begin a day which has loads and loads and loads of vacation-hangover laundry. ugh.
seriously, I detest laundry. having 11 people in my family means that we do at least 2 loads a day, and guess who gets to fold that? the children, of course, and which child is the most responsible and diligent? the oldest, of course, which is coincidentally me. so when we get ready for trip, we have to do approximately 5 million loads in the preceding few days -- to pack -- and then about 10 million when we get back (somehow our dirty clothing proliferates during the trip). yeah, I have a lot of laundry on my horizon.
I can't complain, however, because when I do my mom reminds me that if I don't want to fold I'm free to run around the house naked so I don't get clothing dirty in the first place. you know how some moms sweetly remind their children to be thankful for the clothes they have, "count your blessings," "be cheerful," et cetera? well, my mom likes to snicker and give us a clothing-optional spiel that we can't really reply to, and calling her bluff would be... well, that's not really a price I'm willing to pay.
so I fold.
I did read some on the trip -- some rereads (the hollow; elephants can remember [both agatha christies]; and almost halfway through walden) and some first-time reads (christy and an l. m. montgomery short-story collection). agatha christie I always recommend, catherine marshall I am definitely not into, l. m. montgomery is fun but not worth a ton of attention; walden... I truly enjoy thoreau, actually, and I've been thinking a lot about it over the past few days. this will soon spill over into posts about sitting alone on pumpkins rather than crowded velvet cushions and chanticleers crowing merely to wake neighbors up. be warned.
by the way, did you know thoreau was really into his neck beard? I know: a neck beard. dude, it's gross. ...why the heck are guys into facial hair, anyway? CHICKS DO NOT DIG FACIAL HAIR.*
I have a lot of stuff I need to do today and talking about guy problems and thoreau's beard** is not really on the agenda. here comes that demmed laundry. I'm off!
*except on aragorn and boromir. exempt from facial hair laws, they may do whatever they want.
**if you image-search him, don't say I didn't warn you. this is what nightmares are made of, and you will never unsee it.
yeah.
important things first: MY VACATION WAS ABSOLUTELY SPLENDIFEROUS. I love the beach, and kitty hawk is amazing, and it was the off-season so everything is empty, but it's fall so the weather was spectacular. OBX FTW.
we got in at 2 am last night, and this morning we had doughnuts, which is always a good way to begin a day which has loads and loads and loads of vacation-hangover laundry. ugh.
seriously, I detest laundry. having 11 people in my family means that we do at least 2 loads a day, and guess who gets to fold that? the children, of course, and which child is the most responsible and diligent? the oldest, of course, which is coincidentally me. so when we get ready for trip, we have to do approximately 5 million loads in the preceding few days -- to pack -- and then about 10 million when we get back (somehow our dirty clothing proliferates during the trip). yeah, I have a lot of laundry on my horizon.
I can't complain, however, because when I do my mom reminds me that if I don't want to fold I'm free to run around the house naked so I don't get clothing dirty in the first place. you know how some moms sweetly remind their children to be thankful for the clothes they have, "count your blessings," "be cheerful," et cetera? well, my mom likes to snicker and give us a clothing-optional spiel that we can't really reply to, and calling her bluff would be... well, that's not really a price I'm willing to pay.
so I fold.
I did read some on the trip -- some rereads (the hollow; elephants can remember [both agatha christies]; and almost halfway through walden) and some first-time reads (christy and an l. m. montgomery short-story collection). agatha christie I always recommend, catherine marshall I am definitely not into, l. m. montgomery is fun but not worth a ton of attention; walden... I truly enjoy thoreau, actually, and I've been thinking a lot about it over the past few days. this will soon spill over into posts about sitting alone on pumpkins rather than crowded velvet cushions and chanticleers crowing merely to wake neighbors up. be warned.
by the way, did you know thoreau was really into his neck beard? I know: a neck beard. dude, it's gross. ...why the heck are guys into facial hair, anyway? CHICKS DO NOT DIG FACIAL HAIR.*
I have a lot of stuff I need to do today and talking about guy problems and thoreau's beard** is not really on the agenda. here comes that demmed laundry. I'm off!
*except on aragorn and boromir. exempt from facial hair laws, they may do whatever they want.
**if you image-search him, don't say I didn't warn you. this is what nightmares are made of, and you will never unsee it.
03 September 2013
:: brisingr - a rant ::
several years ago, I read the first two books in christopher paolini's inheritance ... series (who knows how long this will actually go on). my immediate reaction was, "wow, how bad is this going to get?!" and eventually "ughhhhhhhh, I just want to be done!" but being told by several friends that, actually, #3 was an improvement, I thought, seriously, how bad could they have been? I'll check it out, and maybe it will be better than the other two. I can't claim to remember much about the other two -- I am a firm believer in this case of freudian repression; also, I say this with no desire to offend anyone, but merely to make my stance on the subject clear.
brisingr? I loathed it.
okay, "loathe" in all its glory may be a little heavy-handed. I extraordinarily disliked brisingr. why? well...
**SPOILERS AHEAD**
- the terrible, ponderous, annoying, too-many-adjectives writing.
I mean, see how obnoxious that is? what about this phrase: "[the word hung in the air,] a verbal monolith of ambivalence."
...what the heck?
and how many times did the dude use "ambivalence"!? I want to bang him over the head with a thesaurus.
- the "jokes".
I have plenty of experience with this, and you know it. I have great pity for CP, but I'm also really irritated with him for dragging me through "witty" "conversations" between eragon and saphira. in my family, we have a saying: if it isn't funny, it isn't a joke. I examine CP through this lens and find him lacking.
(we do make an exception for the lydia bennet use. "what's he doing [trying to write something worth reading]?! what a joke!")
- the proliferate battle scenes.
(they killed me.)
thank you, O master of the brilliant and original descriptions, for helping me to experience yet another 100,000 pages ofintense, heart-wrenching, emotionally complex ...oh wait battles. includes roran "stronghammer" (Paolini Original, can you tell) rallying everyone 'round the flag to vanquish the foe -- temporarily, of course, because the series ISN'T OVER YET!! -- and guess how he does it? by killing 200 of galbatorix's fighting minions, singlehandedly. *tears at hair*
yeah, I can't even think of anything sarcastic enough to do it justice.
- magic (?!?!?!?!?)
I utterly understand and can accept: this book has magic as a major part of the plot, it is generally consistent, and it has limits that make sense within the story. that said. what the heck is the reason for the eternal use of it? I got very tired of the [insert magic here] device. what is this, jack and annie traveling through time in their flying tree house, or something? ...or something, for sure.
- I loved how eragon matures into a wise, unselfish, thoughtful young man due to his varied experience and the sad necessity of acting like an adult. except I'm just kidding because the only change I read about was a change of shirt around, like, page 400.
over the series eragon goes from immature, inexperienced farm boy to immature, inexperienced magic ...elfperson and "Dragon Rider" (because creative titles are obviously christopher paolini's strong point). but that's not development, and what is supposed to count as "development" is choppy, because CP likes to tell us, flat out, what changed. WHY?! let us see eragon maturing. like, see him get to the point where he's able to handle any responsibility or difficulty without, like, blowing up. which never, like, actually happens. even blatantly. CP has obviously immersed himself in fantasy, but apparently he hasn't even read strunk & white. I'd gladly send him one of my own ...three... copies, if I thought he'd read it and apply it. hahahahahahaha.
I'm an optimist. maybe CP sticks a sentence in book 4 somewhere saying that "after a lot of hard work, eragon didn't get frustrated with other, ordinary people's stupidity" or something. but why do I doubt it? (let me count the ways.) in brisingr, he hasn't even learned that continuing to obsess over your elvish choochie-face when she's made it clear over the LAST 700 pages of book that she's not interested ...just isn't cute anymore. (at least we just didn't have to read about his morning shaving routine in this one. thank heaven for small favors.)
- I only read the stinking book because of murtagh, to be honest.
no, seriously, I almost thought about liking him once. he was conflicted -- girls flip for conflicted guys -- and I was like, oh cool, here's somebody a little less predictable.
*enormous sigh*
unpredictable, my foot. it's obvious from, dare I say, every interaction between the two dudes-whose-relationship-is-forever-changing, that murtagh the good-at-heart will eventually break free from galbatorix's spell because, oh horrors, we couldn't have any important character be lost to us forever, could we????? *tears hair in frustration* oh the humanity!!!
- a short sidetrack on death: I found myself smh over the cripple-who-is-whole and, in the synopsis of #4, islanzadi. for all the battles, CP has precious few people die, and it seems like the mark of a weak author when he can't use death as a compelling plot device. (which reminds me. the lady who hates roran. she shows up once in brisingr. ONCE, for crying out loud! wouldn't she be a little more active in her hate?? I was all, kill them! kill them all, mwahahaha! but no one ever listens to me.)
having oromis and glaedr die, leaving eragon mentor-less, seemed promising (except for the fact, as other people have also noted, that we weren't there to witness their deaths which is terrible, terrible, terrible execution. ...pun intended). I'm not sure how CP worked that into inheritance, but I originally optimized to myself, "it could force eragon to have to mature and learn that even dragon riders make mistakes and that he needs to be humble enough to learn from other people." why would that happen, though?? because eragon is obviously going to be the same immature, moody teenager when he leaves ala-whatever whom he was when he discovered the funky stone in garrow's backyard. *sighs heavily for so much wasted potential*
- too many incredibly frustrating relationships.
I've already said what I thought about eragon and arya. (I'll say it again. noNOnoNOnoNO.)
roran + katrina = SO fake! I got really eye-roll-y at the mushy parts.
I liked that eragon and murtagh were full brothers. it gave eragon something to work through and overcome within himself. he wasn't swayed to evil even before he knew who his father was, so I was like, that's a neat twist, there's so much room for character development here, and there's hope for murtagh, too. BUT OF COURSE CP has to SURPRIIIIIISE! make eragon's father someone you're supposed to like and look up to and appreciate. arrrrgggghhhh. *rips out hair in clumps*
it's like CP couldn't handle the idea that eragon had "bad blood" in him or something. what, he can't be a good guy unless his father was a good guy? no, I know that's technically not what he was saying, but that's the way it looks, and besides, it's just irritating. I hated that then there had to be all this justification for eragon even being brom's child; "oh they considered themselves married" and "selena wasn't more like galbatorix's consort than wife".... that just bothered me. be okay with it, or don't, but don't do this weird let's-make-everyone-in-the-right-except-for-the-mean-dictator stuff. it didn't hang together, it didn't make a lot of sense, and my head hurt by the end from all the attempts to suspend disbelief.
- at least aragorn didn't have a dragon.
others have commented on this, and I'm sure no one wants to hear my badly-articulated viewpoint. I still have to say it: what is with all the LOTR stuff?? stuff, as in: characters, names, themes, I-am-j. r. r.-tolkien complex. can't you even come up with YOUR OWN CREATURES??? *pulls hair wildly* slapping a new name (hypothetically, urgals) on some pre-existent, imaginary creatures (hypothetically, orcs)is known as plagiarism and is frowned upon in most societies doesn't make them your own! you're right: tolkien didn't let the elves shape-shift (although frank herbert had shape-shifters, you plagiarist), and he didn't have werecats (not like werecats are some sort of brilliantly creative invention of yours, though). I am not a huge fantasy fan, but I can recognize when some people are. and isn't it embarrassing that a german lady could write a more original magic+fantasy story? even dustfinger beats eragon to pieces. seriously.
- I had to wade through SEVEN. HUNDRED. AND FORTY. NINE. PAGES of this.
I really don't think I need to expand on this one. pun.
- christopher paolini makes all homeschoolers look bad, and I resent this imputation on my character.
now that I'm bald from all the hair-ripping, I can only swear at him. YOU HIPPOPOTAMIC LAND MASS! I hope you go back to being homeless, friendless, brainless, and unemployed, in greenland!!! warthog-faced buffoon!! hopeless souse!! silly git!!
well, that felt awesome.
- what I liked about the book:
- saphira actually had a comment that made me laugh. of course, I can't remember what it was, and whoops, the book's been returned to the library, but there was that one comment. woohoo, let's all make sure to mark our calendars.
- I liked that this book reminded me of all the real literature that exists. no, it's not all like this, oh joy oh delight oh glory!! I can always bury my frustration in dune and live happily ever -- well, not if I'm reading dune, I can't. I think this calls for a wodehouse fix. or maybe a cup of tea.
**NO MORE SPOILERS**
I am done with the inheritance cycle. I know how it ends, thanks to wikipedia, because I'm not up to another 700+ page, personal experience of this. I mean, this - this is exhausting. we are never getting back together.
like, ever.
brisingr? I loathed it.
okay, "loathe" in all its glory may be a little heavy-handed. I extraordinarily disliked brisingr. why? well...
**SPOILERS AHEAD**
- the terrible, ponderous, annoying, too-many-adjectives writing.
I mean, see how obnoxious that is? what about this phrase: "[the word hung in the air,] a verbal monolith of ambivalence."
...what the heck?
and how many times did the dude use "ambivalence"!? I want to bang him over the head with a thesaurus.
- the "jokes".
I have plenty of experience with this, and you know it. I have great pity for CP, but I'm also really irritated with him for dragging me through "witty" "conversations" between eragon and saphira. in my family, we have a saying: if it isn't funny, it isn't a joke. I examine CP through this lens and find him lacking.
(we do make an exception for the lydia bennet use. "what's he doing [trying to write something worth reading]?! what a joke!")
- the proliferate battle scenes.
(they killed me.)
thank you, O master of the brilliant and original descriptions, for helping me to experience yet another 100,000 pages of
yeah, I can't even think of anything sarcastic enough to do it justice.
- magic (?!?!?!?!?)
I utterly understand and can accept: this book has magic as a major part of the plot, it is generally consistent, and it has limits that make sense within the story. that said. what the heck is the reason for the eternal use of it? I got very tired of the [insert magic here] device. what is this, jack and annie traveling through time in their flying tree house, or something? ...or something, for sure.
- I loved how eragon matures into a wise, unselfish, thoughtful young man due to his varied experience and the sad necessity of acting like an adult. except I'm just kidding because the only change I read about was a change of shirt around, like, page 400.
over the series eragon goes from immature, inexperienced farm boy to immature, inexperienced magic ...elfperson and "Dragon Rider" (because creative titles are obviously christopher paolini's strong point). but that's not development, and what is supposed to count as "development" is choppy, because CP likes to tell us, flat out, what changed. WHY?! let us see eragon maturing. like, see him get to the point where he's able to handle any responsibility or difficulty without, like, blowing up. which never, like, actually happens. even blatantly. CP has obviously immersed himself in fantasy, but apparently he hasn't even read strunk & white. I'd gladly send him one of my own ...three... copies, if I thought he'd read it and apply it. hahahahahahaha.
I'm an optimist. maybe CP sticks a sentence in book 4 somewhere saying that "after a lot of hard work, eragon didn't get frustrated with other, ordinary people's stupidity" or something. but why do I doubt it? (let me count the ways.) in brisingr, he hasn't even learned that continuing to obsess over your elvish choochie-face when she's made it clear over the LAST 700 pages of book that she's not interested ...just isn't cute anymore. (at least we just didn't have to read about his morning shaving routine in this one. thank heaven for small favors.)
- I only read the stinking book because of murtagh, to be honest.
no, seriously, I almost thought about liking him once. he was conflicted -- girls flip for conflicted guys -- and I was like, oh cool, here's somebody a little less predictable.
*enormous sigh*
unpredictable, my foot. it's obvious from, dare I say, every interaction between the two dudes-whose-relationship-is-forever-changing, that murtagh the good-at-heart will eventually break free from galbatorix's spell because, oh horrors, we couldn't have any important character be lost to us forever, could we????? *tears hair in frustration* oh the humanity!!!
- a short sidetrack on death: I found myself smh over the cripple-who-is-whole and, in the synopsis of #4, islanzadi. for all the battles, CP has precious few people die, and it seems like the mark of a weak author when he can't use death as a compelling plot device. (which reminds me. the lady who hates roran. she shows up once in brisingr. ONCE, for crying out loud! wouldn't she be a little more active in her hate?? I was all, kill them! kill them all, mwahahaha! but no one ever listens to me.)
having oromis and glaedr die, leaving eragon mentor-less, seemed promising (except for the fact, as other people have also noted, that we weren't there to witness their deaths which is terrible, terrible, terrible execution. ...pun intended). I'm not sure how CP worked that into inheritance, but I originally optimized to myself, "it could force eragon to have to mature and learn that even dragon riders make mistakes and that he needs to be humble enough to learn from other people." why would that happen, though?? because eragon is obviously going to be the same immature, moody teenager when he leaves ala-whatever whom he was when he discovered the funky stone in garrow's backyard. *sighs heavily for so much wasted potential*
- too many incredibly frustrating relationships.
I've already said what I thought about eragon and arya. (I'll say it again. noNOnoNOnoNO.)
roran + katrina = SO fake! I got really eye-roll-y at the mushy parts.
I liked that eragon and murtagh were full brothers. it gave eragon something to work through and overcome within himself. he wasn't swayed to evil even before he knew who his father was, so I was like, that's a neat twist, there's so much room for character development here, and there's hope for murtagh, too. BUT OF COURSE CP has to SURPRIIIIIISE! make eragon's father someone you're supposed to like and look up to and appreciate. arrrrgggghhhh. *rips out hair in clumps*
it's like CP couldn't handle the idea that eragon had "bad blood" in him or something. what, he can't be a good guy unless his father was a good guy? no, I know that's technically not what he was saying, but that's the way it looks, and besides, it's just irritating. I hated that then there had to be all this justification for eragon even being brom's child; "oh they considered themselves married" and "selena wasn't more like galbatorix's consort than wife".... that just bothered me. be okay with it, or don't, but don't do this weird let's-make-everyone-in-the-right-except-for-the-mean-dictator stuff. it didn't hang together, it didn't make a lot of sense, and my head hurt by the end from all the attempts to suspend disbelief.
- at least aragorn didn't have a dragon.
others have commented on this, and I'm sure no one wants to hear my badly-articulated viewpoint. I still have to say it: what is with all the LOTR stuff?? stuff, as in: characters, names, themes, I-am-j. r. r.-tolkien complex. can't you even come up with YOUR OWN CREATURES??? *pulls hair wildly* slapping a new name (hypothetically, urgals) on some pre-existent, imaginary creatures (hypothetically, orcs)
- I had to wade through SEVEN. HUNDRED. AND FORTY. NINE. PAGES of this.
I really don't think I need to expand on this one. pun.
- christopher paolini makes all homeschoolers look bad, and I resent this imputation on my character.
now that I'm bald from all the hair-ripping, I can only swear at him. YOU HIPPOPOTAMIC LAND MASS! I hope you go back to being homeless, friendless, brainless, and unemployed, in greenland!!! warthog-faced buffoon!! hopeless souse!! silly git!!
well, that felt awesome.
- what I liked about the book:
- saphira actually had a comment that made me laugh. of course, I can't remember what it was, and whoops, the book's been returned to the library, but there was that one comment. woohoo, let's all make sure to mark our calendars.
- I liked that this book reminded me of all the real literature that exists. no, it's not all like this, oh joy oh delight oh glory!! I can always bury my frustration in dune and live happily ever -- well, not if I'm reading dune, I can't. I think this calls for a wodehouse fix. or maybe a cup of tea.
**NO MORE SPOILERS**
I am done with the inheritance cycle. I know how it ends, thanks to wikipedia, because I'm not up to another 700+ page, personal experience of this. I mean, this - this is exhausting. we are never getting back together.
like, ever.
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