John dies at the end. That's not a spoiler, that's the title. How could I not read a book with a title like that? Just with the title alone, it already had me wondering in which unconventional way the character would die, so that it would not leave me disappointed having known in advance that he would. Before reading the book, I settled upon the idea of John reaching the ripe old age of 97 or so and then, like the title promised, die. This may have happened. This may not have. It's up to you to decide if you want to find out.
The book John Dies at the End is by Jason Pargin, the editor in cheif of Cracked.com (at least as of 2009, if not still) writing as his main character David Wong (Okay, I just checked - he writes on there as David Wong as well). When I read that in the back inside flap of the book cover, I immediately anticipated an exciting, humorous book. Cracked.com are the people who give us all of the fun articles like "5 Bad Ideas Humanity is Sticking with Out of Habit," which you can read here. Unfortunately, the dust jacket was the most interesting part of this entire book.
The worst thing is that this book lacks structure. It takes on the form of some kid telling a story and making it up as he goes along, trying to be more and more absurd with each sentence. If Wong was going for absurd, he got it. If he was going for interesting, however, I found it lacking. At many times during the book, it seemed like the story should be over. However, Wong (the character) kept telling the reporter, with whom he was sharing his story, to sit down, because that wasn't even the best part of the story. He would then proceed to relate an entirely different story, linked to the first with nothing but the weak theme that he strings along throughout the book: "Weird, disgusting evil creatures are trying to take over the world, and we have to do all of this boring, improbable stuff to stop them!!"
Wong wasn't lying when he said "you haven't heard the best part yet". He seemed to be saving his "best" stuff for last, as I can honestly say that the epilogue was pretty decent. But I never would have gotten there if I weren't required to finish this book. It wouldn't have been worth my time. Fortunately, the two or so weeks that I spend reading this will save me from sitting through the two to three hours of the movie of the same name to be released in 2012. I can't get my two weeks back, but at least I'll never have to experience this story again.
P.S. Not all of the writing was bad, just the story. The line from which I borrow my title has a character saying that he didn't want to "spend [his] friends like pennies" by bringing danger into their lives. I enjoyed this simile, although I don't usually spend my pennies. I keep them in a jar on my desk. I wonder which is worse :)
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Their Crinoline Skirts Spread Around Them Like Petals of Flowers
I love historical fiction. I've never been good with remembering dates, but when you put the stories of history into context with more personal narratives, I'll be more likely to remember an approximate time period. The same is true with international history. About two weeks ago, I finished reading Julia Alvarez's Before We Were Free. This story takes place during the overthrow of an oppressive regime in the 1960s Dominican Republic. I had never heard of Rafael Trujillo, known to the citizens as "El Jefe", meaning "The Boss", nor the revolution planned and executed by the people, but this story of a young girl and the struggles of her family and friends will help it stick with me.
Anita de la Torre is eleven years old when this story starts, attending an American-run school, which means that she would be very familiar with our country's history, even if I previously knew nothing about hers. Right away, you are able to see some of the inconsistencies in her schooling. The students are learning about the first Thanksgiving, and are assigned roles for a play. Anita is cast as one of the Natives and is told that her lines are as follows: "Welcome to the United States" (Alvarez, 1). Another Dominican student objects. "Why the Indians call it the United Estates when there was no United Estates back then, Mrs. Brown?" (2). The American students laugh at his English pronunciation rather than admit that his point is valid. The teacher just brushes it off as "creative licensing."
The relationship between the U.S. and the Dominican Republic, as demonstrated above, is one of the most interesting parts of this story. We have embassies and consulates almost everywhere and, along with those, American communities abroad. While these families are there, however, relations between the two countries become strained, and the U.S. enforces a trade embargo. In the classroom, many students are concerned, and Mrs Brown tries to explain the embargo the best she can. "You know how your parents sometimes ground your brother or sister," she says. "It's not because they don't love him or her, now, is it? It's because they are concerned and want to make him or her a better person" (33). But, not willing to explain the politics behind it, she succeeds in nothing more than making the Dominican children feel that they've done something wrong.
Although we don't learn much about the cultural histories of other countries unless we specifically seek it out, it is gratifying when you understand a reference that was hinted at but not fully discussed. At one point in the book, Anita decides that she wants to read more. "He [tio Pepe] told me about famous people in prisons and dungeons who did incredible stuff, like this nun way back in colonial times, who I guess wrote tons of poetry in her head..." (120). I'm not certain, but I think she's talking about Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz, a Spanish nun in Mexican history. I don't recall her actually being imprisoned in the literal sense, but she felt trapped in her life "options". She is known to have said "I couldn't dress as a boy, so I dressed as a nun instead." What this meant was that, even though she didn't really feel like she was a nun, she had to be. It was the only way that it would be acceptable for her to continue learning. One of my favorite lines of her poetry roughly translates to "Is it worse to sin for pay, or to pay for sin", asking whether the prostitute or the customer is more at fault. She was a voice for women when everyone else was afraid to be. I really enjoyed that this book was able to bring back to my memory this historical woman just from one minor line.
I think I'm going to make a point to read more books like these in the future, because even the history that I already know has more than one perspective. This story is about so much more than just politics. It is about family interactions and coming of age, making it the perfect backdrop for such a heavy time in history. History doesn't happen in and of itself. It is interwoven with our daily lives
Anita de la Torre is eleven years old when this story starts, attending an American-run school, which means that she would be very familiar with our country's history, even if I previously knew nothing about hers. Right away, you are able to see some of the inconsistencies in her schooling. The students are learning about the first Thanksgiving, and are assigned roles for a play. Anita is cast as one of the Natives and is told that her lines are as follows: "Welcome to the United States" (Alvarez, 1). Another Dominican student objects. "Why the Indians call it the United Estates when there was no United Estates back then, Mrs. Brown?" (2). The American students laugh at his English pronunciation rather than admit that his point is valid. The teacher just brushes it off as "creative licensing."
The relationship between the U.S. and the Dominican Republic, as demonstrated above, is one of the most interesting parts of this story. We have embassies and consulates almost everywhere and, along with those, American communities abroad. While these families are there, however, relations between the two countries become strained, and the U.S. enforces a trade embargo. In the classroom, many students are concerned, and Mrs Brown tries to explain the embargo the best she can. "You know how your parents sometimes ground your brother or sister," she says. "It's not because they don't love him or her, now, is it? It's because they are concerned and want to make him or her a better person" (33). But, not willing to explain the politics behind it, she succeeds in nothing more than making the Dominican children feel that they've done something wrong.
Although we don't learn much about the cultural histories of other countries unless we specifically seek it out, it is gratifying when you understand a reference that was hinted at but not fully discussed. At one point in the book, Anita decides that she wants to read more. "He [tio Pepe] told me about famous people in prisons and dungeons who did incredible stuff, like this nun way back in colonial times, who I guess wrote tons of poetry in her head..." (120). I'm not certain, but I think she's talking about Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz, a Spanish nun in Mexican history. I don't recall her actually being imprisoned in the literal sense, but she felt trapped in her life "options". She is known to have said "I couldn't dress as a boy, so I dressed as a nun instead." What this meant was that, even though she didn't really feel like she was a nun, she had to be. It was the only way that it would be acceptable for her to continue learning. One of my favorite lines of her poetry roughly translates to "Is it worse to sin for pay, or to pay for sin", asking whether the prostitute or the customer is more at fault. She was a voice for women when everyone else was afraid to be. I really enjoyed that this book was able to bring back to my memory this historical woman just from one minor line.
I think I'm going to make a point to read more books like these in the future, because even the history that I already know has more than one perspective. This story is about so much more than just politics. It is about family interactions and coming of age, making it the perfect backdrop for such a heavy time in history. History doesn't happen in and of itself. It is interwoven with our daily lives
Saturday, April 9, 2011
The Essence of Pancakes, of Savory Fish Pies
I don't really know how to talk about Fydor Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment. Is it bad to relate to a murderer? Whether it is or not, I do. I don't pity Raskolnikov. Killing another human being not out of self defense, but out of self importance is not acceptable. But I feel like I understand him. Porfiry, the police officer who basically stalks Raskolnikov for no other reason than to make him uncomfortable and confess his crime has this to say to him: "...You are still young, so to say, in your first youth and so you put intellect above everything..." (270). In this way, Raskolnikov is able to use abstract arguments to justify the murder of his elderly pawnbroker, as he considers her to be vile and greedy, a detriment to society. I guess the biggest difference between he and I is that I have already decided that I believe murder to be wrong. If I didn't have that conviction, I could, like he, come to the conclusion that, not only was this "crime" okay, but that it was my humanitarian duty to rid the world of someone who leeches off of the poor. Intellect is important, but without our beliefs to anchor us, whether these be religious or personal beliefs, it becomes much too easy to lose ourselves in our arguments.
This is not to say that Raskolnikov was without a belief system. We all have them, whether we think about them constantly, or hardly at all. His beliefs lay mainly within his own theories. Once he made one, he felt like he had to prove it to be true. This shows the danger of blind allegiance, in one's self, to one's group, to whatever. I surprised someone the other day; when asked a question, I admitted that I didn't know. Why are we so afraid to be wrong? Why can't we revise our theories, instead of going down with them? Even after he saw where his theory would lead him Raskolnikov still only thought of how it affected him and his sphere of people. "I murdered myself, not her" (330), he says.
That phrase sums up what this book is actually about: how committing this crime affects him. How would it affect any of us? In the space between committing the act and being legally punished for it, are you really as free as that supposed freedom you are clinging to should entail? To me, it is an even worse type of punishment. That is why I would never make a good character: If I brought myself to committing such a crime, I would turn myself in immediately; no, I don't think I can figure out the mystery better than the police. I think I'll let them do their jobs; They're going to bomb our spaceship? Well, there's basically no where to run, so who wants another drink? End credits. Worst movies ever.
This is not to say that Raskolnikov was without a belief system. We all have them, whether we think about them constantly, or hardly at all. His beliefs lay mainly within his own theories. Once he made one, he felt like he had to prove it to be true. This shows the danger of blind allegiance, in one's self, to one's group, to whatever. I surprised someone the other day; when asked a question, I admitted that I didn't know. Why are we so afraid to be wrong? Why can't we revise our theories, instead of going down with them? Even after he saw where his theory would lead him Raskolnikov still only thought of how it affected him and his sphere of people. "I murdered myself, not her" (330), he says.
That phrase sums up what this book is actually about: how committing this crime affects him. How would it affect any of us? In the space between committing the act and being legally punished for it, are you really as free as that supposed freedom you are clinging to should entail? To me, it is an even worse type of punishment. That is why I would never make a good character: If I brought myself to committing such a crime, I would turn myself in immediately; no, I don't think I can figure out the mystery better than the police. I think I'll let them do their jobs; They're going to bomb our spaceship? Well, there's basically no where to run, so who wants another drink? End credits. Worst movies ever.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Medium Rare
Shakespeare is the kind of thing that all English majors must either like or pretend to like. With me, it was the latter. His work just didn't interest me, but if I were to say so, I'd either be called stupid or a heretic. I'm not stupid. I understood the plot, it just didn't interest me. And I know that there is more to Shakespeare than just plot... he was a master of words, inventing many of the turns of phrase that we use regularly without much thought, such as "All that glitters is not gold" (The Merchant of Venice), "break the ice" and "cold comfort" (The Taming of the Shrew), and "It was Greek to me" (Julius Caesar). I looked those up here, for those interested:
http://www.pathguy.com/shakeswo.htm
I admire Shakespeare's command of language, and find it sad that many of his puns are lost on us today, as language and pronunciation has evolved. We can still figure it out, but many of us don't, due to the amount of study it would require. We also lose the historical contexts in which his plays are embedded. It was once common to be familiar with the Greek Classics as well as religious texts, and, without these as prior reference points, much of what his plays displayed seems more high-tier than it would have been in his day, as his plays were layered so that people of any class or circumstance would find something worthwhile in the performances.
I have found, however, that I can easily enjoy The Comedies. Twelfth Night and Measure for Measure are two of my favorite plays. I've already admitted that Shakespeare is clever with words, and my favorite kind of comedy is of the intelligent sort. I can't really get into slapstick, but show me some witty banter and I'm sold. Shakespeare's As You Like It follows along those lines. My favorite characters are the cousins Rosalind and Celia, one the daughter of the banished Duke, and the other the daughter of his usurping brother. Rosalind is permitted to stay in court because of Celia's love for her. What I love most about these girls is the way they talk and how it reminds me of Lorelai and Rory, the mother-daughter duo from the aforementioned TV series Gilmore Girls, whom I don't intend to bring up in every post - only when it's relevant :) It is hard to quote a specific passage, because it's the kind of thing that builds up, but I especially liked them (Rosalind and Celia) in the first act. And, just like any other Shakespeare Comedy, I thoroughly enjoyed imagining young boys playing women disguised as young boys. I guarantee you, there was no shortage of that.
P.S. The title of this post referrers to the title of the play. As You Like It : Medium Rare
http://www.pathguy.com/shakeswo.htm
I admire Shakespeare's command of language, and find it sad that many of his puns are lost on us today, as language and pronunciation has evolved. We can still figure it out, but many of us don't, due to the amount of study it would require. We also lose the historical contexts in which his plays are embedded. It was once common to be familiar with the Greek Classics as well as religious texts, and, without these as prior reference points, much of what his plays displayed seems more high-tier than it would have been in his day, as his plays were layered so that people of any class or circumstance would find something worthwhile in the performances.
I have found, however, that I can easily enjoy The Comedies. Twelfth Night and Measure for Measure are two of my favorite plays. I've already admitted that Shakespeare is clever with words, and my favorite kind of comedy is of the intelligent sort. I can't really get into slapstick, but show me some witty banter and I'm sold. Shakespeare's As You Like It follows along those lines. My favorite characters are the cousins Rosalind and Celia, one the daughter of the banished Duke, and the other the daughter of his usurping brother. Rosalind is permitted to stay in court because of Celia's love for her. What I love most about these girls is the way they talk and how it reminds me of Lorelai and Rory, the mother-daughter duo from the aforementioned TV series Gilmore Girls, whom I don't intend to bring up in every post - only when it's relevant :) It is hard to quote a specific passage, because it's the kind of thing that builds up, but I especially liked them (Rosalind and Celia) in the first act. And, just like any other Shakespeare Comedy, I thoroughly enjoyed imagining young boys playing women disguised as young boys. I guarantee you, there was no shortage of that.
P.S. The title of this post referrers to the title of the play. As You Like It : Medium Rare
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
A Disenchanting Discovery
Growing up, I always wanted to read whatever my older sister was reading. This makes sense - she is the one who used to read to me late at night when we were supposed to be sleeping. In the first grade, the last time I remember being tested, they put me at a third grade reading level, which can in part be credited to her for her continuous encouragement. When I was in the eighth grade, she passed me a book she was reading as a senior: The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne. Well, that one was a mistake. I wanted to be at the point where I could read and understand it. She expected that I would be; she always had so much confidence in me. But I wasn't ready for it. Well, it's on my list now, and I'll get to it eventually (still dragging my feet after all these years), but that's not what this post is about.
This was also around the time that my sister started passing me her John Grisham books. She wanted to be a lawyer, so immersing herself in the fiction of the trade was exciting to her. These books, unlike the Hawthorne, I could handle. I read The Rainmaker first, followed by a long string of others, my favorite one being The Partner. I felt smart reading these books, because they let me into the prestigious world of law. I understand now that these books aren't of the same caliber as the classics that I struggled with, but they served a purpose in my life... they brought back my confidence.
I have just finished my first Grisham book since I was a freshman in high school, and I don't know how I feel about it. Grisham's The Brethren is something I picked up cheap at a garage sale a few years back, probably for nostalgic purposes. Reading it now, though, it's not the same. I don't know if it was this particular book, or if it's Grisham's style in general that is so off putting to me. First of all, I didn't care enough about any of the characters. The story focuses around three ex-judges referred to as "The Brethren" who are serving time in a federal prison. They concoct extortionist scams from the inside with the help of their shady lawyer. The story follows along with them a few of their victims... the biggest one of them being a candidate for the United States Presidency. Now I have nothing against villainous protagonists. I actually encourage it. However, going through an entire story not caring who "wins" and who "loses", who lives and who dies, doesn't say much for Grisham's character writing ability. It also really bothered me the way he would jump between character perspectives from one paragraph to the next. I'm okay with it after line breaks or at the start of a new chapter, but this just feels sloppy.
It's been an interesting experience revisiting an old favorite and realizing that I'm not impressed. It makes me wonder though, did I just randomly select one of his worst novels? Or were none of them as good or as clever as I remembered them? I know I'm not the same person as I was when I was reading them a good decade or so ago, but now I really want to do some re-reading to find out for sure. Has anyone else experienced this? Feel free to add to the discussion.
This was also around the time that my sister started passing me her John Grisham books. She wanted to be a lawyer, so immersing herself in the fiction of the trade was exciting to her. These books, unlike the Hawthorne, I could handle. I read The Rainmaker first, followed by a long string of others, my favorite one being The Partner. I felt smart reading these books, because they let me into the prestigious world of law. I understand now that these books aren't of the same caliber as the classics that I struggled with, but they served a purpose in my life... they brought back my confidence.
I have just finished my first Grisham book since I was a freshman in high school, and I don't know how I feel about it. Grisham's The Brethren is something I picked up cheap at a garage sale a few years back, probably for nostalgic purposes. Reading it now, though, it's not the same. I don't know if it was this particular book, or if it's Grisham's style in general that is so off putting to me. First of all, I didn't care enough about any of the characters. The story focuses around three ex-judges referred to as "The Brethren" who are serving time in a federal prison. They concoct extortionist scams from the inside with the help of their shady lawyer. The story follows along with them a few of their victims... the biggest one of them being a candidate for the United States Presidency. Now I have nothing against villainous protagonists. I actually encourage it. However, going through an entire story not caring who "wins" and who "loses", who lives and who dies, doesn't say much for Grisham's character writing ability. It also really bothered me the way he would jump between character perspectives from one paragraph to the next. I'm okay with it after line breaks or at the start of a new chapter, but this just feels sloppy.
It's been an interesting experience revisiting an old favorite and realizing that I'm not impressed. It makes me wonder though, did I just randomly select one of his worst novels? Or were none of them as good or as clever as I remembered them? I know I'm not the same person as I was when I was reading them a good decade or so ago, but now I really want to do some re-reading to find out for sure. Has anyone else experienced this? Feel free to add to the discussion.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Television, Television
Ray Bradbury and Roald Dahl should have been best friends. Okay, maybe they wouldn't have too much in common - I don't really know and don't feel like researching it - but they'd have gotten along quite well at a party being the two guys who sat in the corner talking about how television was going to destroy us all. I've already briefly brought up Bradbury a few posts back when I mentioned Fahrenheit 451. Not only is it tragic that in this world, all books are contraband, but he also stresses the role that television would fill in a world that lacked critical thought. Television screens often times circled an entire room; favorite television characters were referred to as "The Relatives," as viewers often times knew these characters better than they knew any living person. What Dahl does is bring this concern to a younger audience with his children's book Matilda.
Dahl starts this book off by criticizing Matilda's parents for not being able to recognize her intelligence. They are described as being the type of people who eat TV dinners every night in front of the television set and have no books in the house other than a cookbook. Matilda reads this when she's 4 years old, and when she asks her father for another book, he says "What's wrong with the telly, for heaven's sake? We've got a lovely telly with a twelve-inch screen [note: this book was written in 1988, and since I would have been only two at that time, let's just assume that that was a big screen back then] and now you come asking for a book! You're getting spoiled, my girl!" (Dahl, 12). Her education left in her own hands, Matilda precedes to sneak off to the library every day and enlighten herself, with the help of Dickens, Bronte, Austen, Hardy, and so on, all when she is four years old.
Recently I commented on books moving away from fantasy towards self-efficient prodigies. This book actually crosses both sides of this line. With Matilda's great mental capacity, she soon finds that her mind is more powerful than most in a supernatural sort of way. Her newly discovered abilities will come to help her deal with her impossible parents and her even more impossible headmistress. In this way, this book could have double appeal and keep the attention of a broader audience. The only thing I don't see being attractive to modern youth is how villainous it makes television appear. I am not going to take a definite stance either pro- or anti- television because, I, like today's children, have grown up with television being a major part of my life. It becomes difficult to judge a matter when it is so ingrained in one's culture. I happen to think that it has the potential to increase the means of education as well as potentially being the degradation of society. Ironically enough, it was television that taught me that maybe I should spend a little less time watching television. For example: I love the series "Gilmore Girls." I love the life that they have and I envy it. However, if I spend all of my time watching it, I'm not really leaving myself much opportunity to experience it.
Well, that's all on that for now, but for the curious: The title of this blog is the title of a song by OK Go, which seemed relevant to the theme.
Enjoy:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Fbg_04oYa8&feature=related
Dahl starts this book off by criticizing Matilda's parents for not being able to recognize her intelligence. They are described as being the type of people who eat TV dinners every night in front of the television set and have no books in the house other than a cookbook. Matilda reads this when she's 4 years old, and when she asks her father for another book, he says "What's wrong with the telly, for heaven's sake? We've got a lovely telly with a twelve-inch screen [note: this book was written in 1988, and since I would have been only two at that time, let's just assume that that was a big screen back then] and now you come asking for a book! You're getting spoiled, my girl!" (Dahl, 12). Her education left in her own hands, Matilda precedes to sneak off to the library every day and enlighten herself, with the help of Dickens, Bronte, Austen, Hardy, and so on, all when she is four years old.
Recently I commented on books moving away from fantasy towards self-efficient prodigies. This book actually crosses both sides of this line. With Matilda's great mental capacity, she soon finds that her mind is more powerful than most in a supernatural sort of way. Her newly discovered abilities will come to help her deal with her impossible parents and her even more impossible headmistress. In this way, this book could have double appeal and keep the attention of a broader audience. The only thing I don't see being attractive to modern youth is how villainous it makes television appear. I am not going to take a definite stance either pro- or anti- television because, I, like today's children, have grown up with television being a major part of my life. It becomes difficult to judge a matter when it is so ingrained in one's culture. I happen to think that it has the potential to increase the means of education as well as potentially being the degradation of society. Ironically enough, it was television that taught me that maybe I should spend a little less time watching television. For example: I love the series "Gilmore Girls." I love the life that they have and I envy it. However, if I spend all of my time watching it, I'm not really leaving myself much opportunity to experience it.
Well, that's all on that for now, but for the curious: The title of this blog is the title of a song by OK Go, which seemed relevant to the theme.
Enjoy:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Fbg_04oYa8&feature=related
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Death Walked There In The Sunlight
Even though I still have quite the list of books to pick from, it feels like I have no choices. I'm beginning to feel trapped by the fact that I already know which books I'll be reading throughout the year. To remedy this, I've begun to read graphic novels during the times that I just can't bring myself to read the books before me. Sure, it's extra reading, and may cause me to lag behind schedule at times, but not more so than being at a point that I just plain don't want to read. Anyway, I picked up a copy of The League of Extraordinary Gentleman from the library. I had previously seen the movie and, although I didn't always follow what was going on, I thought the concept of mixing literary characters into the same story was a fun idea. That's why I decided to read my next book: The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. Actually, it's the reason I bought the book in the first place. However, I was extremely disappointed. It was not the book that disappointed me. It was that, in reading the entire first volume of the graphic novel, I discovered that my anti-hero didn't actually make an appearance. He may have merely been added through the consent of creative licensing for the movie, or maybe he shows up in the second volume. I don't know. But I was still sad, because I wanted to read about the same character in different contexts concurrently. I would have been better off choosing Moby Dick to start.
Anyway, the actual book, to me, was quite refreshing. I love villainous protagonists, but I love even more seeing how they got there. (The Ashleys and I just finished watching Heroes, and as the seasons went by, I grew to love Sylar and his penchant for committing atrocities). So, as the book starts, Dorian Gray is a handsome young boy, maybe in his early twenties, full of innocence and a love of life. Everyone praises his beauty, but none more so than his painter friend Basil Hallward. A portrait that he paints as a gift for the boy is so exquisite that it awakens in Dorian a long dormant vanity and a life long quest of retaining youth and beauty at any cost.
This whole concept is intriguing. What would one do for eternal youth? The idea isn't new, but it is ever present... from stories of the Fountain of Youth to modern day attempts through medical procedures. No matter what era we're from, we seem to always wish to hold on to this time in our lives, even if it wasn't particularly pleasant while we've had it. I think we're afraid. Dorian says it best when he says "I have no terror of death. It is the coming of death that terrifies me." And this is true, as far as I'm concerned. Everything we do to make ourselves appear youthful doesn't change the fact that we are not that which we would like to present ourselves as. We're not afraid of death...we're afraid of deterioration. But if our bodies did not deteriorate, it would only leave our souls, or our essences, to do so in its place.
Anyway, the actual book, to me, was quite refreshing. I love villainous protagonists, but I love even more seeing how they got there. (The Ashleys and I just finished watching Heroes, and as the seasons went by, I grew to love Sylar and his penchant for committing atrocities). So, as the book starts, Dorian Gray is a handsome young boy, maybe in his early twenties, full of innocence and a love of life. Everyone praises his beauty, but none more so than his painter friend Basil Hallward. A portrait that he paints as a gift for the boy is so exquisite that it awakens in Dorian a long dormant vanity and a life long quest of retaining youth and beauty at any cost.
This whole concept is intriguing. What would one do for eternal youth? The idea isn't new, but it is ever present... from stories of the Fountain of Youth to modern day attempts through medical procedures. No matter what era we're from, we seem to always wish to hold on to this time in our lives, even if it wasn't particularly pleasant while we've had it. I think we're afraid. Dorian says it best when he says "I have no terror of death. It is the coming of death that terrifies me." And this is true, as far as I'm concerned. Everything we do to make ourselves appear youthful doesn't change the fact that we are not that which we would like to present ourselves as. We're not afraid of death...we're afraid of deterioration. But if our bodies did not deteriorate, it would only leave our souls, or our essences, to do so in its place.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Farewell, Harry Potter
I wonder if "quirky-kid-who's-too-impossibly-smart-for-his-own-good" is the new "boy-finds-out-he-has-magical-powers-that-are-too-strong-for-his-own-good." I honestly kind of hope so. Don't get me wrong...I rather enjoy the Harry Potters of the word, but when I walk into the kids/teen section of the audio book store where I work and am hard pressed to find anything without witches, wizards, dragons, and friendly vampires, or, now days, wolves, it becomes a bit monotonous. So this brings me to John Green's An Abundance of Katherines.
I had heard quite a bit of hype about this book's predecessor: Looking for Alaska. It is, by no means, a sequel, but this is the book that introduced me to the author. I wasn't exactly impressed with this first book, but it is kind of half of my inspiration for doing this project. One of the characters, Alaska Young, has what she calls her "life library". It's a collection of books that she owns that she wants to finish before she dies. That is pretty much the same thing as my book collection had been. It was basically just a tangible "to read" list. This, however, in combination with the last book I read before this project, Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451, inspired me to actively work towards fulfilling this goal. In Bradbury's dystopian future, owning books is illegal. The only ones that they cannot take from you are the ones that you have committed to memory. Now, I don't foresee a time in our near future where this will become necessary, but it started me thinking: what is it that makes me possess a book? Is it the physical presence of that book in my hand, or the stories and the concepts that I store away in my mind?
So, even though the book's story didn't captivate me, it is evident that some of its ideas have. This, combined with hearing that the same people who raved about Looking for Alaska were let down by An Abundance of Katherines made me start to think that this may, indeed, be the better of the two books. And, in my opinion, it was. Green's second book is about a boy, Colin Singleton, who has a certain type of girl - those that are named Katherine. At first, it is coincidental, but, being the nerd that he is, when he sees the pattern arising, I believe this becomes his motivation in seeking out Katherines. At the start of the book, we find Colin wallowing in despair from being dumped by his 19th Katherine. Yes, that's right. 19. Now, some of you may say that that's unlikely, or even impossible, but if you can believe that an 11-year-old boy with latent magical powers is the chosen one who is predestined to defeat the ultimate evil, I think we can handle a slight suspension of disbelief at the fact that all of this boy's girlfriends have been named Katherine.
This book is set up in the form of a road trip between Colin and his best friend Hassan, the uncertainty of the journey mirroring the uncertainty of both boys' futures. Colin wants to become a genius and find a reason for the world to think he matters. Hassan wants to be as comfortable as possible doing as little as possible. What will become of this washed up child prodigy and his increasingly lazy friend? (Side note: this book differentiates between a prodigy and a genius. A genius is unfairly more intelligent than most everyone else. A prodigy just learns things quicker, but eventually evens out with the rest of his peers). In his quest to finding meaning, Colin decides to devise a formula that will accurately represent all past relationships, as well as predict the course of those to come.
This book was an especially good read for me. I may not be a recent high school graduate trying to find my way, but I am a recent college graduate who is still searching. Even if you have your lives 100% figured out, which, I'm guessing you don't, this book is still hilarious and well worth the couple days it will take you to finish.
I had heard quite a bit of hype about this book's predecessor: Looking for Alaska. It is, by no means, a sequel, but this is the book that introduced me to the author. I wasn't exactly impressed with this first book, but it is kind of half of my inspiration for doing this project. One of the characters, Alaska Young, has what she calls her "life library". It's a collection of books that she owns that she wants to finish before she dies. That is pretty much the same thing as my book collection had been. It was basically just a tangible "to read" list. This, however, in combination with the last book I read before this project, Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451, inspired me to actively work towards fulfilling this goal. In Bradbury's dystopian future, owning books is illegal. The only ones that they cannot take from you are the ones that you have committed to memory. Now, I don't foresee a time in our near future where this will become necessary, but it started me thinking: what is it that makes me possess a book? Is it the physical presence of that book in my hand, or the stories and the concepts that I store away in my mind?
So, even though the book's story didn't captivate me, it is evident that some of its ideas have. This, combined with hearing that the same people who raved about Looking for Alaska were let down by An Abundance of Katherines made me start to think that this may, indeed, be the better of the two books. And, in my opinion, it was. Green's second book is about a boy, Colin Singleton, who has a certain type of girl - those that are named Katherine. At first, it is coincidental, but, being the nerd that he is, when he sees the pattern arising, I believe this becomes his motivation in seeking out Katherines. At the start of the book, we find Colin wallowing in despair from being dumped by his 19th Katherine. Yes, that's right. 19. Now, some of you may say that that's unlikely, or even impossible, but if you can believe that an 11-year-old boy with latent magical powers is the chosen one who is predestined to defeat the ultimate evil, I think we can handle a slight suspension of disbelief at the fact that all of this boy's girlfriends have been named Katherine.
This book is set up in the form of a road trip between Colin and his best friend Hassan, the uncertainty of the journey mirroring the uncertainty of both boys' futures. Colin wants to become a genius and find a reason for the world to think he matters. Hassan wants to be as comfortable as possible doing as little as possible. What will become of this washed up child prodigy and his increasingly lazy friend? (Side note: this book differentiates between a prodigy and a genius. A genius is unfairly more intelligent than most everyone else. A prodigy just learns things quicker, but eventually evens out with the rest of his peers). In his quest to finding meaning, Colin decides to devise a formula that will accurately represent all past relationships, as well as predict the course of those to come.
This book was an especially good read for me. I may not be a recent high school graduate trying to find my way, but I am a recent college graduate who is still searching. Even if you have your lives 100% figured out, which, I'm guessing you don't, this book is still hilarious and well worth the couple days it will take you to finish.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
A Healthy Dose of Pessimism to Brighten Your Day :)
Oh, the future. Having gone through college to study something that you find out that you hate makes one prone to not wanting to think about the future. Yet we speculate anyway. In my mind, I've lived out many lifetimes: sometimes as a world famous author, sometimes as a philanthropist, trying in vain to make the wold suck less, and sometimes just living a quiet, simple life, close to family and friends. But the point is, we always plan for the future to be better than the present. With every human advancement come opportunities to innovate, to improve. But what is the limit to human ability? H. G. Wells asks this very question in the classic The Time Machine.
I would say that H. G. Wells' The Time Machine is part Beowulf and part Idiocracy. Sounds like an odd combination, to anyone who knows both the epic poem and the movie of which I speak, but it really is quite fitting. The protagonist of this story, known only as "The Time Traveler," ventures to an unknown future, hundreds of thousands of years from his late 1800s setting. What he finds there is an eerie, complacent people, much like those in Idiocracy, who have advanced so much that the lack of need for innovation has left them simple-minded. This people, the Eloi basically go about their lives seeking pleasure and merriment, with nothing to fear...except for the dark. To defend themselves against this great evil and whatever in it may lurk, they all sleep en masse, much like the men in Heorot, terrorized by the possibility of ambush.
To me, the most interesting aspect of this story is it's modern day relevance. It is essentially a story of a factional populace that has grown to hate and fear each other. It becomes extremely difficult to objectively judge who is the villain and who is the oppressed. I love this, because, even though our society loves to villanize each other, none of us are as right as we think we are. The Time Traveler starts to see that the issues behind the division may be more gray than black and white, but as the only outside observer, he does not have the luxury of remaining objective, when those around him are not willing or able to see that as an option.
This book is science fiction at its best; it doesn't wave around its technology only to say "look at all the cool things we can hypothetically invent!" Instead, it uses the setting as a tool to tell the story. Through these absurd characters and locations, we are able to see traces of our own humanity. In this way, the story is able to be more didactic. It shudders and says: "This is what humanity has the potential to become."
I would say that H. G. Wells' The Time Machine is part Beowulf and part Idiocracy. Sounds like an odd combination, to anyone who knows both the epic poem and the movie of which I speak, but it really is quite fitting. The protagonist of this story, known only as "The Time Traveler," ventures to an unknown future, hundreds of thousands of years from his late 1800s setting. What he finds there is an eerie, complacent people, much like those in Idiocracy, who have advanced so much that the lack of need for innovation has left them simple-minded. This people, the Eloi basically go about their lives seeking pleasure and merriment, with nothing to fear...except for the dark. To defend themselves against this great evil and whatever in it may lurk, they all sleep en masse, much like the men in Heorot, terrorized by the possibility of ambush.
To me, the most interesting aspect of this story is it's modern day relevance. It is essentially a story of a factional populace that has grown to hate and fear each other. It becomes extremely difficult to objectively judge who is the villain and who is the oppressed. I love this, because, even though our society loves to villanize each other, none of us are as right as we think we are. The Time Traveler starts to see that the issues behind the division may be more gray than black and white, but as the only outside observer, he does not have the luxury of remaining objective, when those around him are not willing or able to see that as an option.
This book is science fiction at its best; it doesn't wave around its technology only to say "look at all the cool things we can hypothetically invent!" Instead, it uses the setting as a tool to tell the story. Through these absurd characters and locations, we are able to see traces of our own humanity. In this way, the story is able to be more didactic. It shudders and says: "This is what humanity has the potential to become."
Monday, January 31, 2011
A Private Tambourine Concert
I fondly recall a particular evening in which my lovely sister, her husband, and I were driving to or from a nice dinner out when an argument sparked. Chris, always seeing the need to expand my musical education, popped in the CD Here Come the ABC's by They Might Be Giants. Cari, exasperated by her husband's supposed lameness, and, poor girl, probably having heard the same CD time after time, was not having it. One particular song, however, struck my fancy. It's called C is for Conifer. It was amazing in the dorkiest way possible. Search for this song...it will be well worth your time. Anyway, this song started the discussion of my hypothetical future offspring, and how I think it would be an excellent idea to have them listen to this CD while learning the alphabet, that way when they start school, and the teacher starts the class off by saying "C is for..." and the rest of the class shouts "Cookie!" or whatever, my kid would shout "Conifer!" I think it would be funny. She thinks it would be torture. The debate got pretty heated, and worsened when I said that, having learned that the verb to describe how monkeys swing from branch to branch is "to brachiate," I would not teach it to my kid in any other way. So, my poor child, instead of saying "let's go play on the monkey bars," never having heard this simple expression would say "let's go brachiate!" Apparently, using your children for social experimentation is not a good experience for said child or something silly like that :)
The point of this little story is to set the scene for the book I have just completed: Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close, by Jonathan Safran Foer. The protagonist, Oskar Schell, a boy of what I believe to be 10 years, although he changes his age at his own discretion to garner either sympathy or respect, is the perfect example of how a child under my care would turn out. This kid is brilliant. However, he's just as equally socially awkward, which, I suppose, is the very thing my sister feared my poor, hypothetical children would become. This kid is so quirky that he carries around a tambourine with him and randomly plays it wherever he goes. At one point, he is having a conversation with a store clerk, and at the end of the scene, she says "Would you mind not shaking that tambourine in the store?" (Safran Foer, 336). Before this point, there was no indication that he was even doing such a thing because, to him, it was normal. Fortunately for Oskar, he doesn't really seem to realize that he's strange.
The best part of this book is definitely the author's voice. This is a story of family, of tragedy, of growth. Anyone could write this story and I'm sure many people have. But no one can write it like this, with the exception, of course, of Mr. Safran Foer. It is beautiful, and Oskar's voice shines through perfectly. You get the feeling that you're learning something from some of the things he says, but then you are quickly reminded that he is, indeed, a child, and has so much to learn about the world. One example is that he mentions that he read in National Geographic that "there are more people alive now than have died in all of human history. In other words, if everyone wanted to play Hamlet at once, they couldn't, because there aren't enough skulls!" (293). That is, in my opinion, a pretty clever way of putting the proportions into perspective. However, he then goes on to say, in a conversation with a limo driver: "Actually, if limousines were extremely long, they wouldn't need drivers. You could just get in the back seat, walk through the limousine, and then get out of the front seat, which would be where you wanted to go" (295). This shows that, even though he is capable creative thought, which is the case in both of these scenarios, he is still lacking a sense of logic. It's really quite interesting to watch as his thoughts progress, because, even though the kid is probably a genius, it is evident that he is still, well, a kid.
Although I wouldn't say that it is the main focus, this book is extremely funny. I want to share with you a particular section from the book that made me laugh out loud for 2 minutes straight, before finally being able to tell the Ashleys (my roommates) what was so funny. Oskar was depressed about how relatively insignificant life is, and so, to change his perspective, his father pointed out that if he were in a plane and dropped down into the Sahara Desert and moved one grain of sand, he would have changed the way the world was. Oskar gets excited and says:
"I changed the course of human history!"
"That's right."
"I changed the universe!"
"You did."
"I'm God!"
"You're an atheist."
"I don't exist!"
(376)
I love comedy that builds off of itself. None of these phrases would have been funny by themselves, but this scene was put together so masterfully, I could not contain myself. Eventually, I read it to the Ashleys and they enjoyed it too. Oh yeah, and they wanted me to give them a shout-out for helping me pick out my book mark for this story. "Go Ashleys! I couldn't've done it without you!" :)
It's hard to say specifically what this book is about without giving away too much. But I think a good way of putting it is that this book is about learning to live. This is true for every character we come across, even if their reasons are not the same. Interlaced with the text of this story are letters written by a grandfather that the boy never knew. These letters reveal a similar pain from another lifetime that mirror this theme of learning to live. It shows that, although the experiences may differ, the struggles are the same. These universal struggles make this book a good read for about anyone.
Safran, Jonathan. Everything Is Illuminated Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt (HMH), 2010. Print.
The point of this little story is to set the scene for the book I have just completed: Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close, by Jonathan Safran Foer. The protagonist, Oskar Schell, a boy of what I believe to be 10 years, although he changes his age at his own discretion to garner either sympathy or respect, is the perfect example of how a child under my care would turn out. This kid is brilliant. However, he's just as equally socially awkward, which, I suppose, is the very thing my sister feared my poor, hypothetical children would become. This kid is so quirky that he carries around a tambourine with him and randomly plays it wherever he goes. At one point, he is having a conversation with a store clerk, and at the end of the scene, she says "Would you mind not shaking that tambourine in the store?" (Safran Foer, 336). Before this point, there was no indication that he was even doing such a thing because, to him, it was normal. Fortunately for Oskar, he doesn't really seem to realize that he's strange.
The best part of this book is definitely the author's voice. This is a story of family, of tragedy, of growth. Anyone could write this story and I'm sure many people have. But no one can write it like this, with the exception, of course, of Mr. Safran Foer. It is beautiful, and Oskar's voice shines through perfectly. You get the feeling that you're learning something from some of the things he says, but then you are quickly reminded that he is, indeed, a child, and has so much to learn about the world. One example is that he mentions that he read in National Geographic that "there are more people alive now than have died in all of human history. In other words, if everyone wanted to play Hamlet at once, they couldn't, because there aren't enough skulls!" (293). That is, in my opinion, a pretty clever way of putting the proportions into perspective. However, he then goes on to say, in a conversation with a limo driver: "Actually, if limousines were extremely long, they wouldn't need drivers. You could just get in the back seat, walk through the limousine, and then get out of the front seat, which would be where you wanted to go" (295). This shows that, even though he is capable creative thought, which is the case in both of these scenarios, he is still lacking a sense of logic. It's really quite interesting to watch as his thoughts progress, because, even though the kid is probably a genius, it is evident that he is still, well, a kid.
Although I wouldn't say that it is the main focus, this book is extremely funny. I want to share with you a particular section from the book that made me laugh out loud for 2 minutes straight, before finally being able to tell the Ashleys (my roommates) what was so funny. Oskar was depressed about how relatively insignificant life is, and so, to change his perspective, his father pointed out that if he were in a plane and dropped down into the Sahara Desert and moved one grain of sand, he would have changed the way the world was. Oskar gets excited and says:
"I changed the course of human history!"
"That's right."
"I changed the universe!"
"You did."
"I'm God!"
"You're an atheist."
"I don't exist!"
(376)
I love comedy that builds off of itself. None of these phrases would have been funny by themselves, but this scene was put together so masterfully, I could not contain myself. Eventually, I read it to the Ashleys and they enjoyed it too. Oh yeah, and they wanted me to give them a shout-out for helping me pick out my book mark for this story. "Go Ashleys! I couldn't've done it without you!" :)
It's hard to say specifically what this book is about without giving away too much. But I think a good way of putting it is that this book is about learning to live. This is true for every character we come across, even if their reasons are not the same. Interlaced with the text of this story are letters written by a grandfather that the boy never knew. These letters reveal a similar pain from another lifetime that mirror this theme of learning to live. It shows that, although the experiences may differ, the struggles are the same. These universal struggles make this book a good read for about anyone.
Safran, Jonathan. Everything Is Illuminated Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt (HMH), 2010. Print.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
When You Talk to Me, I Smell Violets
So you may look at this title and ponder: What has it to do with The Return of the King? The answer is quite simple. Nothing. Stop trying to make it work. The truth is, it has been years since I have read the first two books, and I'm having a hard time recalling both characters and locations. Seems silly, in an age in which The Lord of the Rings trilogy has graduated out of geekdom and into the mainstream. But honestly, I've only ever watched the first movie. This is because I intended to read the books first, and all these years later, I have yet to do so. It really is silly. I enjoy movies that are books much more when I see them before reading the book, yet I cannot bring myself to do it in most cases. It feels like I'm cheating on the author with a younger, more energetic version of himself. But as I have read the first two volumes of Tolkien's epic, and, due to the self-imposed time constraints I have set upon myself, I will attempt The Return of the King after a Lord of the Rings viewing party minus the final installment.
In its stead, I have elected and completed the reading of L. M. Montgomery's Anne of Windy Poplars. I suppose I wanted to stick with the theme of authors with initials or something, to make up for abandoning our good friend J.R.R. I first became familiar with the "Anne" series out of requirement. I was assigned in a college class studying adolescent literature to read Anne of Green Gables, the first in the "Anne" series. I was immediately a fan - right from the beginning...of the second half of the book. Honestly I hated it. Anne was a red-headed orphan between the ages of 8 and 11 (I really can't recall how young she was when this all started), who was better than another common red-headed orphan only in the sense that she did not sing and dance. Anne is described as a spirited girl with lots of scope for imagination or something like that. But to me, the "poetry" of the character was lost in her rambling nonsense. I get the feeling that we are supposed to have liked her - even at that age - but I could not stand her until she was at least 16. Perhaps it would have been different had I read this book as a child, rather than at the condescending know-all age of 20, but as it is, I didn't, and I still don't care for young Anne.
Anne of Windy Poplars is the fourth book in the series. After that initial disdain, I have thoroughly enjoyed the series...up until this one. It was not horrible, but nor was it pleasant. Getting through this book seemed too much like a chore, which is in part why we are in the last days of January and I am just finishing my first book. The main difference between this one and the others is that I feel that this one had no main purpose other than marking time. You see, Anne is engaged. I'll not say to whom, in order to prevent spoilers, so from here on out he'll be referred to as Anne's "beau", as it seems fitting to the time of this book. Oh yeah, it's in let's say the early 1900s, Prince Edward's Island, Canada. Anyway, Anne has to wait three years to marry her beau so that he may finish his schooling and start a life for them. A good part of the book is made up of letters from her to him which gets annoying pretty fast because her letters take on that annoying tone of the rambling Anne of her youth. During these three years, she has taken on the principalship of another town and meets a whole slew of interesting people.
That's another thing I disliked about this book. There are so many new people (all of which just slightly more interesting than Anne) and they are introduced throughout the book as little mini-plots of various chapters. It's so episodic that it just seems like little glimpses of life. Some of you may like that. That's fine. You should probably read this book. It's not horrible, it's just not quite my thing, and doesn't fit with the flow of previous books. But so much negativity. Let's discuss something I did like.
Although Anne is known for her sunny disposition, she does have a morbid side. Yes. That's what I like about her. She has a little rift with the "Royal Family of Summerside," more commonly known as the Pringles. One day, while strolling through the graveyard (as all normal people do), she thought "...it would be positively encouraging to see how many Pringles were where they couldn't annoy anybody anymore" (Montgomery, 40). This makes me love her. Sure, it's cruel, but you have to admit that it's amusing. However, although Anne is okay with appreciating that some of her nemeses lay dead, one thing that is inexcusable in a person is sarcasm. I don't blame Anne for this one. It's not her fault. She was created by Ms. L.M. to believe this to be the greatest character flaw imaginable. Every new character that we meet that is considered even the slightest bit villainous is also sarcastic. But hooray for Anne! She now has a mission. Apparently the point of this book is for Anne to eradicate sarcasm from the evil people of Summerside, thus saving their souls from eternal damnation. If only I could meet her and be saved as well.
L.M. clearly has a love for nature, and this shows through Anne. She is excited to see the house where she'll be boarding... you guessed it... Windy Poplars. "The path was edged by very prim, well-ordered beds of ribbon grass and bleeding-heart and tiger-lillies and sweet-William and southernwood and bride's bouquet and red-and-white daisies and what Mrs. Lynde calls 'pinies'" (Montgomery, 8). This is not very exciting to me, as I am not as visual as Anne, so I've included photos so that we can enjoy it too:
The only one I could not find to add is "bride's bouquet." As you can imagine, an image search for such a title would bring up various arrays of flowers carried in the hands of women in white. Anyway. Now that I've finally seen these images, and together, I have to admit that they are really quite lovely. L.M. has a sort of vision that I could never even dream of having. And, likewise, so does Anne. It is revealed in the next sentence that these things are not actually in bloom. She just imagines how lovely it would be. But that makes sense, as flowers seem to be a part of Anne, as is evident in the quotation that serves as my title. This is said to her by a little girl of six, and she doesn't mean it in a literal sense. There is another character, a student of hers, that tells her that she speaks the language of violets. These poetic musings by multiple characters could be very telling of her personality. Both girls are what Anne would call "kindred spirits," of which she has met a handful in each book. Neither these girls nor Anne would be considered my kindred spirits, but I understand the sentiment none-the-less, and it really is lovely.
In its stead, I have elected and completed the reading of L. M. Montgomery's Anne of Windy Poplars. I suppose I wanted to stick with the theme of authors with initials or something, to make up for abandoning our good friend J.R.R. I first became familiar with the "Anne" series out of requirement. I was assigned in a college class studying adolescent literature to read Anne of Green Gables, the first in the "Anne" series. I was immediately a fan - right from the beginning...of the second half of the book. Honestly I hated it. Anne was a red-headed orphan between the ages of 8 and 11 (I really can't recall how young she was when this all started), who was better than another common red-headed orphan only in the sense that she did not sing and dance. Anne is described as a spirited girl with lots of scope for imagination or something like that. But to me, the "poetry" of the character was lost in her rambling nonsense. I get the feeling that we are supposed to have liked her - even at that age - but I could not stand her until she was at least 16. Perhaps it would have been different had I read this book as a child, rather than at the condescending know-all age of 20, but as it is, I didn't, and I still don't care for young Anne.
Anne of Windy Poplars is the fourth book in the series. After that initial disdain, I have thoroughly enjoyed the series...up until this one. It was not horrible, but nor was it pleasant. Getting through this book seemed too much like a chore, which is in part why we are in the last days of January and I am just finishing my first book. The main difference between this one and the others is that I feel that this one had no main purpose other than marking time. You see, Anne is engaged. I'll not say to whom, in order to prevent spoilers, so from here on out he'll be referred to as Anne's "beau", as it seems fitting to the time of this book. Oh yeah, it's in let's say the early 1900s, Prince Edward's Island, Canada. Anyway, Anne has to wait three years to marry her beau so that he may finish his schooling and start a life for them. A good part of the book is made up of letters from her to him which gets annoying pretty fast because her letters take on that annoying tone of the rambling Anne of her youth. During these three years, she has taken on the principalship of another town and meets a whole slew of interesting people.
That's another thing I disliked about this book. There are so many new people (all of which just slightly more interesting than Anne) and they are introduced throughout the book as little mini-plots of various chapters. It's so episodic that it just seems like little glimpses of life. Some of you may like that. That's fine. You should probably read this book. It's not horrible, it's just not quite my thing, and doesn't fit with the flow of previous books. But so much negativity. Let's discuss something I did like.
Although Anne is known for her sunny disposition, she does have a morbid side. Yes. That's what I like about her. She has a little rift with the "Royal Family of Summerside," more commonly known as the Pringles. One day, while strolling through the graveyard (as all normal people do), she thought "...it would be positively encouraging to see how many Pringles were where they couldn't annoy anybody anymore" (Montgomery, 40). This makes me love her. Sure, it's cruel, but you have to admit that it's amusing. However, although Anne is okay with appreciating that some of her nemeses lay dead, one thing that is inexcusable in a person is sarcasm. I don't blame Anne for this one. It's not her fault. She was created by Ms. L.M. to believe this to be the greatest character flaw imaginable. Every new character that we meet that is considered even the slightest bit villainous is also sarcastic. But hooray for Anne! She now has a mission. Apparently the point of this book is for Anne to eradicate sarcasm from the evil people of Summerside, thus saving their souls from eternal damnation. If only I could meet her and be saved as well.
L.M. clearly has a love for nature, and this shows through Anne. She is excited to see the house where she'll be boarding... you guessed it... Windy Poplars. "The path was edged by very prim, well-ordered beds of ribbon grass and bleeding-heart and tiger-lillies and sweet-William and southernwood and bride's bouquet and red-and-white daisies and what Mrs. Lynde calls 'pinies'" (Montgomery, 8). This is not very exciting to me, as I am not as visual as Anne, so I've included photos so that we can enjoy it too:
The only one I could not find to add is "bride's bouquet." As you can imagine, an image search for such a title would bring up various arrays of flowers carried in the hands of women in white. Anyway. Now that I've finally seen these images, and together, I have to admit that they are really quite lovely. L.M. has a sort of vision that I could never even dream of having. And, likewise, so does Anne. It is revealed in the next sentence that these things are not actually in bloom. She just imagines how lovely it would be. But that makes sense, as flowers seem to be a part of Anne, as is evident in the quotation that serves as my title. This is said to her by a little girl of six, and she doesn't mean it in a literal sense. There is another character, a student of hers, that tells her that she speaks the language of violets. These poetic musings by multiple characters could be very telling of her personality. Both girls are what Anne would call "kindred spirits," of which she has met a handful in each book. Neither these girls nor Anne would be considered my kindred spirits, but I understand the sentiment none-the-less, and it really is lovely.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Resolution
Okay, so I don't usually do New Year's Resolutions, as I'm pessimistic in nature and don't enjoy the idea of setting myself up for self-imposed failure. However, the competitive part of me really likes the idea of challenging myself, and, so long as I can come up with something worth pursuing, the idea of a New Year's Resolution has a lot of potential. I'm really excited about what I came up with this year:
For the year of 2011, I am making it my goal to read all of the books that I own but have yet to read. This will be a big challenge, as I cannot seem to enter a bookstore without making a purchase. This challenge will exclude both textbooks and religious texts, even though I am loserish enough to sometimes read these for fun. There just isn't enough time in the year for me to include them and to actually absorb the content as well.
For this challenge, I am starting my first blog to chronicle my progress with reviews of each book I read. My reading list is as follows:
1.Before We Were Free - Julia Alaverez
2. I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings - Maya Angelou
3. The Canterbury Tales - Geoffrey Chaucer
4. River, Cross my Heart - Breeana Clarke
5. Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell - Susanna Clarke
6.The Watsons go to Birmingham - Christopher Paul Curtis
7. The BFG - Roald Dahl
8.Matilda - Roald Dahl
9. Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
10. A Tale of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
11. Robinson Crusoe - Daniel Defoe
12.Crime and Punishment - Fydor Dostoyevsky
13. Four Souls - Louise Erdrich
14. The Well of Lost Plots - Jasper Fforde
15.Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close - Jonathan Safran Foer
16. Martin Luther King, Jr - Marshall Frady
17. The World is Flat - Thomas L. Friedman
18.An Abundance of Katherines - John Green
19. Grendel - John Gardner
20.The Brethren - John Grisham
21. Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
22. The Scarlet Letter - Nathaniel Hawthorne
23. Lancelot Du Lethe - J. Robert King
24. The Devil in the White City - Erik Larson
25. The Whiskey Rebels - David Liss
26. One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
27. Moby Dick - Herman Melville
28.Anne of Windy Poplars - L.M. Montgomery
29.As You Like It - William Shakespeare
30. Richard III - William Shakespeare
31. The Return of the King - J.R.R. Tolkien
32. The Silmarillion - J.R.R. Tolkien
33.The Time Machine - H.G. Wells
34. The War of the Worlds - H.G. Wells
35.The Picture of Dorian Gray - Oscar Wilde
36. Queen Bees and Wannabes - Rosalind Wiseman
37.John Dies at the End - David Wong
38. Native Son - Richard Wright
39. The Angel's Game - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
As you can see, I have quite the eclectic list. Some of them are books that I've always wanted to read, so I picked them up when I saw them in order to read them some day. Others are bargains that I've found at garage sales, thrift stores, and sale bins over the years. They are currently all listed alphabetically by author's last name for no other purpose than to make it easier for me to find specific books when I wish to recall them. I'm not actually reading them in that order, or I may go crazy if I get stuck on a particular author. I do believe I shall begin with Tolkien's The Return of the King. That is all for now. If you have favorites, be vocal about it, as it may convince me to give precedence to your suggestions.
For the year of 2011, I am making it my goal to read all of the books that I own but have yet to read. This will be a big challenge, as I cannot seem to enter a bookstore without making a purchase. This challenge will exclude both textbooks and religious texts, even though I am loserish enough to sometimes read these for fun. There just isn't enough time in the year for me to include them and to actually absorb the content as well.
For this challenge, I am starting my first blog to chronicle my progress with reviews of each book I read. My reading list is as follows:
1.
2. I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings - Maya Angelou
3. The Canterbury Tales - Geoffrey Chaucer
4. River, Cross my Heart - Breeana Clarke
5. Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell - Susanna Clarke
6.
7. The BFG - Roald Dahl
8.
9. Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
10. A Tale of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
11. Robinson Crusoe - Daniel Defoe
12.
13. Four Souls - Louise Erdrich
14. The Well of Lost Plots - Jasper Fforde
15.
16. Martin Luther King, Jr - Marshall Frady
17. The World is Flat - Thomas L. Friedman
18.
19. Grendel - John Gardner
20.
21. Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
22. The Scarlet Letter - Nathaniel Hawthorne
23. Lancelot Du Lethe - J. Robert King
24. The Devil in the White City - Erik Larson
25. The Whiskey Rebels - David Liss
26. One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
27. Moby Dick - Herman Melville
28.
29.
30. Richard III - William Shakespeare
31. The Return of the King - J.R.R. Tolkien
32. The Silmarillion - J.R.R. Tolkien
33.
34. The War of the Worlds - H.G. Wells
35.
36. Queen Bees and Wannabes - Rosalind Wiseman
37.
38. Native Son - Richard Wright
39. The Angel's Game - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
As you can see, I have quite the eclectic list. Some of them are books that I've always wanted to read, so I picked them up when I saw them in order to read them some day. Others are bargains that I've found at garage sales, thrift stores, and sale bins over the years. They are currently all listed alphabetically by author's last name for no other purpose than to make it easier for me to find specific books when I wish to recall them. I'm not actually reading them in that order, or I may go crazy if I get stuck on a particular author. I do believe I shall begin with Tolkien's The Return of the King. That is all for now. If you have favorites, be vocal about it, as it may convince me to give precedence to your suggestions.
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