So closed a year of reading and writing. A year of no school to speak of. A year of figuring myself out. When I found the Eclectic Reader's challenge last January, hosted by Book'd Out, it seemed like the perfect way to help myself transition into life and learning on my own. I've always loved to read, it was always my favorite part of school, so this challenge presented me with a framework for continuing that love while trying to move it into a new phase. And it worked wonders. I read so many books this year, so many different types of books, books that I bought just or this purpose, but also books that had once appealed to me into purchase and then languished on my shelf for "free time" to come around and remind me to read something just for me--a rare occurrence. Others were recommendations from friends, some were chosen purely for their blurb and an impulse at a new bookstore. I tried to find something that fit each of my assigned categories but also would give something back to me as well. I learned a lot this year, and here I'm gonna try to figure out what.
The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky
January - fiction into film
I didn't read this in middle school like the rest of the world, and I think coming to it through older eyes changed the way I related to Charlie. I saw him through the eyes of someone who had already been through high school and left those friend behind, made those choices and loved those people. I think it was helpful for me to read about his transition as I was going through my own, leaving a different sort of school and striking out on my own; even though I still had my friends around me, I felt alone a lot. Charlie being able to find Sam again when she came back helped me realize that it isn't the end of an era, just a widening out.
Zorro by Isabel Allende
February - translated fiction
I have loved Isabel Allende since I first read House of the Spirits when I was twelve years old. The mysticism in her voice and the idea of magical realism captured my attention from the very first pages, and she has also strengthened my love for Spanish. Zorro was an opportunity for me to read a different kind of book by her, a story that came with baggage she did not create but used expertly all the same. It was a chance for me to revisit an old friend and experience it a different way, something I love to do and have done for many of my favorite stories like hansel & gretel and beauty and the beast.
Drawing in the Dust by Zoe Klein
March - romantic suspense
This book caught my eye because it was about Israel, a country I know and love. It was interesting--if a little jarring--to see her through the eyes of a Christian woman, and I was surprised at myself for being surprised that I could relate. I saw my religion from the outside for the first time in a long time, and it was still beautiful to me.
John Dies At The End by David Wong
April - urban fantasy
This was my first official recommendation. My boyfriend's best friend Cam had me watch the new movie version of this weird-ass story and told me that they only tell about a third of it on screen, I was intrigued. These people felt real, raw, ridiculous in the best sense of the word, and I loved every weird, disjointed page of this book. So much so that I bought the sequel IN HARDCOVER, something I rarely do, but I couldn't wait to read it.
The Painted Girls by Cathy Marie Buchanan
May - published in 2013
I love Degas. He has been my favorite artist since I was little, and I have always been unspeakably moved by his paintings, though I can't remember what exactly brought me to him. So reading about the girl who was a model for his famous statue was like bringing history to life for me. For a long time I wanted to write historical fiction like this, to find stories untold in the pages of a textbook and give them voices. This book reawakened that desire in me.
Suck It, Wonder Woman! by Olivia Munn
June - memoir
I really wanted to like this book more than I did. I just had too many problems with Olivia Munn by the end of it. I didn't like some of her choices of anecdotes and how she didn't take her examination or her anger far enough, just putting it out there to bake under the heat of the public's invited rage. Maybe if she had written it more recently, during her stint as the amazing Sloan Sabbith on The Newsroom her voice would've changed a little bit. But I needed more from her, and I didn't get it.
Dracula, the Undead by Ian Holt and Dacre Stoker
July - action adventure
I fucking love Dracula. I have read countless vampire books and watched so many movie iterations and seen the lore translated in so many ways, so getting something by an actual Stoker sounded amazing. I think my favorite part, though, was the analysis at the end, where the coauthors explained their intent ad plan for the story.
The Club Dumas by Arturo Perez Reverte
August - historical mystery
Ahh historical mystery. I love this genre. I also love books like this that delve into real authors and their stories, like The Poe Shadow by Matthew Pearl. I love seeing parts of history in a different way, and this book had so many opportunities for that. So many mysteries, my only problem was that sometimes I wouldn't catch on and the chapter would end with a cryptic revelation that I didn't quite get and it frustrated me. There was so much going on that I didn't know what my brain was supposed to latch into.
The Bone Season by Samantha Shannon
September - dystopia
This book was an impulse buy. I had been considering reading Ender's Game for this month's book, but decided to do some research and find a new world of my own. I was drawn to this book because it is written by a 22 year old woman, and I wanted it to serve as a sort of inspiration to me, that I should keep writing and get my story out there like this girl did. Plus she made up a lot of words and had a glossary in the back and I'm a sucker for that shit.
The Mysteries of Pittsburgh by Michael Chabon
October - LGBTQ
This book was recommended to me by one of my favorite literary critics and beautiful minds: my friend Olivia. We were tipsily walking to a bar one night to meet our friends, talking about literature (like you do) and she was asking about my challenge and if I had the next book picked out. I told her I had some ideas for this month but wasn't sure and she pretty much shot all of them down and told me I had to read this. That it is one of her favorite books of all time and it will mean so much to me because we're so similar. I'm so glad I did. It was inspirational in that it was an amazing author's first attempt at writing, and the story itself was also about first attempts, about the transition that I'm going through, from college to the new world, and even though the specifics are different, the feelings of recklessness and dislocation rang true.
How To Be A Woman by Caitlin Moran
November - humor
I'm gonna be honest, I really liked her name (spelled the same as mine, *ahem*) and the title and every blurb I read said it sounded funny, and I am in fact figuring out how to be a woman, so this book was a pretty easy decision. Caitlin Moran took me with her as she remembered her process of How To Be A Woman, and every anecdote held some kernel of reassurance for me, and her incredible candor allowed me to delve into topics I haven't quite allowed myself to think about deeply before.
Commencement by J. Courtney Sullivan
December - new adult
Critics have called this chick lit and berated it for its vagueness and flat characters, but I did enjoy this book. It's not really that surprising how many of the books I chose this year were about some great change in an individual's life, most mirroring the changes I am going through right now, but what is surprising is the incredible range of decisions those individuals made, most specifically in this book. The four protagonists in Commencement almost spoke to four different parts of me, as a woman, as a feminist, as a new adult making her way in the world, as one half of a serious relationship. No matter the vagueness or the flat characters (and I'm not denying those claims their validity), this book was a perfect way for me to round out a year of eclectic reading because it gave me a backdrop to think about what I really want to do--what I really could do--with this new life that has presented itself to me.
Throughout the course of this year, I have also learned a lot about writing. Forcing myself to reflect on something and write about it every month made me look at how I form my own opinions about things. For example, I read a lot of other reviews when I was writing about each book, and it took a while for me to realize that that wasn't always productive. Sure, getting ideas from other sources' opinions is fine, but I need to be confident enough in my own to not shrink back from opposition or think that what I originally felt about a book was wrong. Because feelings aren't wrong. Responses to the way a certain text talks to you are instinct and speak to your personal emotional makeup at the time. I suppose this translates to pretty much anything anyone could have an opinion about in the entire world, but as with a lot of things in my life, it took reading to bring it out. So this year, I plan to give myself more time. More time alone with a feeling before posting about it or discussing it or analyzing it. I want to know in detail what something means to me, how it fits into my personal worldview, before I put it out on the chopping block to get ripped apart. Because there's nothing worse than turning around and beating yourself up for your own opinions, rather than allowing them to be strong for you. So thanks, 2013, for helping me remember how to think for myself, and here's to 2014 for showing me the strength to do so.
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Saturday, December 21, 2013
DEC - Commencement
December review for the Eclectic Reader's Book Challenge 2013: Commencement by J. Courtney Sullivan, 2009. [New Adult category]
Commencement by J Courtney Sullivan is just that: a commencement. A beginning that, like life, once begun cannot be paused or made to wait for you. It picks you up and wraps you into the lives of four young women during their days at Smith College, and the intricacies of each story keep the pages turning. Sally, Celia, Bree, and April are very different in their first days at Smith, but we follow as they move toward each other, learning about themselves and about life as a woman along the way. Sullivan deals with dark topics such as rape, child prostitution and nascent feminism as the girls make their way through their years in Smith's bubble and then ripple out into their own worlds. For all its vague character development and surface-scratching of aforementioned issues, I couldn't stop reading. It was one of two possible titles for my "new adult" category, the one I started reading second, but the first very soon fell by the wayside as I stayed up later and later in my hotel room over Thanksgiving to read Commencement, while College Girl languished with a bookmark barely past the first chapter and the meeting of the strangely friendly boy who will obviously bring eponymous heroine out of her young adult shell. (Boring.) I enjoyed my final decision much more.
As a word nerd, the very first thing I loved about this book was the play on the title; the word "commencement" as a reference to the college graduation ceremony, but also to the start of a new life, a new chapter. This novel perfectly straddled that double meaning, especially through the use of memories dislocated in time. We are never quite sure if what we are experiencing is in the present until the end of the book, when the old memories get fewer and farther between. Sullivan pulled off a book about four girls' realigning relationships that also comments on the absurdity of some of life's vicissitudes, especially those facing young women. Sure her characters are white women from varying degrees of the upper-middle class, and there are times when Sullivan presents their feminism as if it is the only brand that exists, but I think that she did a good job for what this book was trying to be. And that's the thing about feminist endeavors lately: it seems to me that we as a culture have become so hypercritical and obsessed with a political correctness that ends in sanitization of anything real that whenever anyone tries to make a dent, however small, in such a complex topic, if they don't pull it off perfectly and without anything that could possibly be construed as offensive to someone else, we attack them. When really we should be applauding their attempt to do something about anything, to keep the ball rolling even if it gets picked up and hurled back in their face (read: Lily Allen and her "Hard Out Here" video).
In terms of the category of the month, I originally wasn't positive this book would fit. I mean, it fit by my understanding of the definition (New Adult is a category with protagonists age 18-25 learning about their world and how to transition in it), but this particular book wasn't on any "delineated "New Adult" list per se, so I took a few liberties. When I was searching, most of the "new adult" category seemed to be sexed-up half-naked 19 year olds on the covers going to college and (possibly) being magical and just generally angsting about things for sequels on sequels on sequels. (Aside--Hell yeah I'm judging books by their covers, and I'm super glad I did so. Fight about it.) As a young twentysomething moving through the commencement of my own strange life, I felt that this second wave of "New Adult" (the college/post-college subjects) was more fitted to my sensibilities. I mentioned Commencement wasn't on any Goodreads lists or the New Adult fiction wikipedia page et cetera, I used my literary discretion to find a book that I thought fit the category but would also give me something in return, a practice I have tried to use all year. There is talk amongst The Critics, that amorphous blob of humanity that makes up most of my knowledge about new books, that this category is purely a fad, a marketing technique to differentiate Skyler Gray from Percy Jackson, and while this is a valid point, I think this category will last. I think people will always be looking to find books that mirror their own life, and having more and more specific subcategories (teen paranormal romance, anyone?) will help people on their quest. I enjoyed Commencement even though I didn't go to a womens college or go undercover to bring awareness to child prostitution rings or have an affair with my professor, and it was because it was about girls in the same mindset as me, trying to figure out what a big ticket education and all the possibility in the world is going to get me.
Saturday, November 30, 2013
NOV - How To Be a Woman
November review for the Eclectic Reader's Book Challenge 2013: How To Be a Woman by Caitlin Moran, 2011. [Humor category]
How To Be a Woman by Caitlin Moran has been on my radar for a while, and not only because she spells her name like I do (but pronounces it differently. cuz she's british). I have been interested in her comparison to Tina Fey, her cavalier and funny choice of title, and just her general super-coolness that I really really want to find the secret recipe for. I mean, she's worked as a writer basically since she could legally collect her own paycheck, and that is something I have sort of always been afraid of--even though it's the thing I want most in this world. So when I had the idea to pick her first book for the humor category in my year-long romp through literature, I jumped at the chance.
This memoir-slash-manifesto was everything I thought it was going to be and more. Every self-deprecating chapter ("Chapter 3: I Don't Know What to Call My Breasts!" or "Chapter 7: I Encounter Some Sexism!") is a mixture of funny anecdotes from Moran's childhood which effortlessly transition into greater musings about the chapter's relation to feminism or the female place in the world at large. While her tone is pretty flippant at times, with LOTS OF CAPS LOCK, she manages to sound incredibly down-to-earth and friendly at the same time. She has this new idea about not a new way to think about feminism, not as another wave but rather as an incoming tide--because around the fifth wave of anything it doesn't appear to be individual anything anymore, and that's when things get interesting. She talks about sweating the small stuff, making a big deal about the minuscule things because one broken window going unfixed will lead to more and more vandals and squatters and all kinds of ill-mannered folk wreaking havoc on what was once just a nice building quietly minding its own business. A lot of things she says I agree with, a lot of the gray areas she points out. I read an article recently about women dealing with misogynist culture and being told to just lighten up' and smiling but inside feeling like "if you lighten up anymore you're going to float the fuck away." Caitlin Moran has a lot of the same feelings as the author of said article, Roxane Gay, does, and this sort of call to arms for women, this assurance that fighting against this shit doesn't make you a militant freak or a social outcast, is what really drew me home into this book.
At one point, Moran talks about strong female role models (Chapter 14), mostly recording artists--because that is where she got her start--and mentions a whole slew of them, including Lily Allen ("a gobby ingénue!"). Now, I was reading this book at about the time the whole "Hard Out Here"/Lily Allen-is-a-racist fiasco. 2013 was a really weird year for women, what with the vomit-inducing Robin Thicke and the parodies and the backlash, and the backlash on the backlash, women yelling at other women for speaking their mind even if they fuck up in the way that they do so, and so I was interested in reading a wonderfully belligerent feminist's attempt to make sense of it, and I continued to read Moran's writings after the book was over. I've always thought the idea of intent was a very tricky one, and we talked about it a lot in my lit classes, but I've never really tried to apply it to pop culture or artists making their waves in the present. I think one of the obsessions with authorial intent is that most of the time, the author can't be reached for comment and it allows for endless debate without actually reaching any meaningful conclusion. The thing about intent with living artists is that it gets messy, with revisions and anger and takesie-backsies and she-said-she-said. But that is the difference between the study of the past and the study of the present. And even though it hurts my head (and my OCD) a little bit to be a part of it, I love immersing myself in the mess. I read every article about Lily Allen and her anthem, trying to figure out how I felt versus how I should feel or am allowed to feel. The easiest way for me to line everything up, I felt, was to find something that took a few steps back and spend a moment reflecting upon the sheer ridiculousness of the situation.
And that brings me to speak in terms of the category this month, humor. In all honesty, this book fits "memoir" much more than Olivia Munn's book did, and I think that is mostly because Moran bared more of her soul and allowed us to be more vulnerable with her. But I read it for "humor," why? No bookstore or website I saw ever put it under a "humor" banner, not technically, but she's so funny and these are my rules so whatever. It might be because she's not afraid to denigrate herself, to address her own flaws. She admits freely that humans are inherently imperfect and once you can look back on that without shame, you can see the humor in life.
I loved this book. I found a lot of things Caitlin Moran writes about resonate with me. As a writer, as a woman, as someone with a brain. I wasn't being preached at, I was a co-conspirator, almost. And that's all anyone really wants, I think. To be taught alongside someone else, rather than at the expense of someone else. If this year has taught me anything, it has taught me that.
Other reviews I enjoyed:
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
OCT - The Mysteries of Pittsburgh
October review for the Eclectic Reader's Book Challenge 2013: The Mysteries of Pittsburgh by Michael Chabon, 1988. [LGBTQ category]
The Mysteries of Pittsburgh was written by Michael Chabon for his MFA program after he finished undergrad in the 80s. Right off the bat I am intrigued because, as a woman recently deluged with wave after tidal wave of First Time, I am curious about his first; I want to feel those first feelings from another creature any time I can, to see how they translate theirs and put it out into the world. There is a familiar sense of "wait, I could do this. . ." as the novel progresses, and that isn't necessarily a bad thing. It keeps the reader grounded and aware of the raw, uncut beauty of this author's first try. Sure it could be better, more polished, more insightful, but these are once again the shortcomings of a newcomer, and they should be acknowledged but made to sit in the back of the room. But I digress.
The Mysteries of Pittsburg is a book of firsts, both in story and in circumstance. It story of a summer after, a new beginning, a reinvention. Art Bechstein, son of a mobster, returns to the library one last time after graduation and there his summer (and subsequently his life) is changed forever. Sounds like the log line of pretty much every summer blockbuster ever, huh? It is exactly this touchstone that situates the reader in comfort, letting them come to the discoveries that crop up alongside Art, gathering as he gathers, feeling as he feels. Chabon's prose is unparalleled, even this early in his career, and I have loved his handling of language ever since I read Summerland when I was 13. Phrases like "solace is in the fabric of sweatshirts" (219) and "I was watching the clock slowly fold up my last ten minutes like the pleats of a fan" (61) drew me in with their simplicity, and I felt at home in the words.
As for a general summary of the book, it is really the story of Art and a few other players, most of whom we don't get to know very well in the short space we're allowed between the covers of the book. There is Phlox, the Girl Behind Bars who entrances him then entraps him with every insistence and arrogance. She is introduced to Art by Arthur, a gay man Art runs into at the library that fateful day, the strong forearm behind the crank of the story. Arthur becomes Art's link to the rest of the major players, Jane and Cleveland, a couple the most defining of whose characteristics seems to be that they are in a relationship and it is dysfunctional. On the fringes are Cleveland's mobster father and other members of the Pittsburgh elite who intersect with either Art or Cleveland in the latter's dabblings with the seedy side toward the end of the book. I am going to say straight out that I hate Phlox. I do not understand her. I realize that it is 1988 and views on gays are radically different from my own in 2013, but I almost cannot reconcile her thinking gay men are disgusting or cowardly (95) with then her apparent embrace of her own sexuality--"But do you know what those Christians told me? They told me I would have to learn to live without sex. I can't live without sex, Art. It's ridiculous. If Jesus really loves me, then He wants me to sleep with boys" (101). On the other hand, Cleveland's outlook on all things gay seems much more in line with the humanistic view I've come to adopt--"So why don't you just let me do what I want, and I'll let you boys do what you want, and maybe that way we can all stay friends" (238). It was nods to these themes that made me pick this book for the LGBTQ genre.
In terms of LGBTQ, Michael Chabon is a singular entity. With the publishing of Mysteries, Chabon was almost rebranded as a gay writer by the critics due to his straightforward, almost playful treatment of gayness and bisexuality. In his P.S. section in a newer edition of the book, Chabon voiced some concerns about how he was labeled, also putting forward his marriage to a woman as a lens to interpret his writing through. I chose this book rather than any of the other popular (read: token) LGBTQ books floating around my environs (read: Middlesex. (No really, everyone I know on this campus has read Middlesex)) because it wasn't proclaiming to be anything, and that ambiguity, that process of discovery, makes this in my view a perfect introduction to a genre/topic that I myself am not particularly familiar with. A fact of which I am very glad because I was able to stumble across this beautiful beautiful line that encapsulates everything I've ever thought about sexuality ever: "you're just clowning around with your sexual chemistry set" (237). Not only does Chabon deal with a single boy developing his possible bisexuality, he almost nonchalantly calls into question the idea of what is feminine as Art observes Arthur's body one day at the pool (164). How do you describe a man's body? What words are charged and why? How can words be so "erotically feminine" without being gendered at any semantic level? I love books that make me ask questions, even if the questions are not themselves present in the text, and Chabon does a brilliant job of just setting something on the table for readers to engage or not, depending on their will.
And speaking of will (pardon my insufferably heavy-handed segue, please), one of the recurring ideas of this book that stuck out to me was the "will to bigness." Art wants it from the first 50 pages, Cleveland gets it in the end, the whole novel is peppered with the desire to be something more than what you are, and I think that it is a phrase that encapsulates the ideas behind this story; a boy's first summer in the real world, an author's first novel, the desire to be something MORE. As a grad almost a year out of school, I can appreciate the will-to-bigness that is so intoxicating: life is hard without the desire to be something bigger, the desire to move forward and toward some new thing. I've spent the past few months trying to figure out the bigness I am striving for, and this monthly book blog has definitely helped me along. So thank you, minuscule number of readers, for sharing this journey with me. Books like this make me feel like my time has been well spent. (p271)
{Like a nerd, one of my favorite things to do is read literary criticism by authors, both about their own works and others floating around in the aether, so here's a link to an article Chabon wrote about his book in The New York Review of Books. So check it out! Maybe we can be nerdfriends.}
Monday, October 21, 2013
Hey! Hey you! Come to our micro horror fest!
Coming soon to the Ugly Mug near you, a miniature version of our Horror Fest!
Wednesday, 26 Oct, 2013
6pm-9pm
Ugly Mug's HORROR FEST 2013!!
For you we will have:
+Film Screening of Three Corpse Circus' Best of the Fest Collection
+Horror Art Showcase
+Costume Contest
+Spooky Snacks
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
You will be missed.
Today, I went into work to find a note that popped up repeatedly throughout the store informing staff of a shattering event: A coworker of ours had committed suicide yesterday morning. The boy in question was a quiet kid, kept to himself, and we weren't friends by any stretch of the word, but I tried to say hi to him every time I let him in in the morning. I felt shook up, like someone had pushed into the record player of my brain, jarring the needle out of its habitual groove. I thought that if I felt this disoriented about the loss of someone I just brushed elbows with occasionally, I cannot begin to fathom the loss of someone closer, someone whose elbows never left yours, someone who saved more than a good morning smile for you.
It seems that I've been faced with death a lot this year. Just a few months ago, my boyfriend's coworker drowned after jumping off a bridge after a party, and I actually had a panic attack and couldn't go into work. The finality of it cut me deep, the internalization of the idea that today something that had once moved, breathed, laughed, texted, just hours before, was simply ended, gone. With little to no explanation. I'm trying to describe the feelings I've been nudging against today, and it's hard, mostly because I think we think about death in such cliché ways that when it finally breaks into our little bubbles, that is the only way we know to respond, with half-baked thousand-times-used phrases that everyone will know. But maybe that's a good thing. Maybe the emptiness of the words lets others know that we feel the same, we have no words as well. I don't know.
Monday, September 30, 2013
SEPT - The Bone Season
September review for the Eclectic Reader's Book Challenge 2013: The Bone Season by Samantha Shannon, 2013. [Dystopia category]
Wiling away the hours in our newest hip bookstore last month, I was trying desperately to find a book that would fit my dystopia category. I went through classics lists on the internet, debated H.G. Wells and Isaac Asimov, but ultimately went outside to sit on the curb, anxious and tomeless, redoubling my internet efforts on my tiny phone screen. On a whim, I had picked up the IndiePicks! newsletter for the month as I was leaving Literati, and I thumbed through it looking for catchwords that might possibly mean "containing post-apocalyptic oppressive society." The stark blue cover of The Bone Season by Samantha Shannon struck me, even in thumbnail form, and as I read through the blurb I became more and more excited about it. Luckily, I hadn't gone but four steps from Literati, so I turned around and walked back inside and on whim, bought a $26-hardcover-new-realease from a 22-year-old British author and walked back out. (There aren't words to explain how rarely I do such a thing. I suffer from a double dose of inherited Jewish stinginess and buyer's anxiety, so such a splurge really spoke to me.) Immediately I sat down and started to read in the sun, hoping for anything to make my soul thrum with excitement again. It had been a while.
At first glance The Bone Season seems to be a typical sci-fi concept, the story of a singular individual built into an oppressive world whose skills make it dangerous for her to be there at all. (One girl in all the world, anyone?) Add some clairvoyance and a little bit of 1984 cross-bred with V For Vendetta and you've pretty much got The Bone Season. Paige Mahoney is a teenage clairvoyant living in 2059 London, a city that is now taken over by the terrifyingly closed-minded Scion (haha clairvoyance pun...sorry guys). Paige is a special kind of clairvoyant called a dreamwalker which essentially allows her spirit to leave her body to interact with the aether around her and even the minds of other people. This rare talent makes her a hot commodity in the rebel underground where she is employed by a rather pompous clairvoyant named Jaxon Hall. Her talent is untrained, though, and when forced into a corner Paige accidentally uses her power and kills two underguards, making her even more Most Wanted than usual. Her attempts to fly under the radar fail and she is captured and taken to what is essentially a concentration camp for her kind, called Sheol 1, built in the ruins of what used to be Oxford, and it is ruled by alien creatures called the Rephaim. Paige, being a special someone, is taken under the command of Warden, the blood consort and one who rarely consorts with humans. Isolated and confused, Paige has to learn to either adapt to this crushing new lifestyle or own her abilities enough to break herself and her newfound friends of the compound, all the while being tormented with gossip of faceless monsters, the Emim, who prowl just outside Sheol 1, snacking on a human limb here and some Rephaim blood there. Most of the story takes place within Sheol 1 and follows Paige's day-to-day traversal of her new life. Though the phraseology at times seemed a little too quaint and the final battle came rather quickly after so many pages of painstakingly detailed mind-jaunts, the novel as a whole was more than satisfying to me, due largely to the snarky female protagonist.
Paige is strong and bullheaded and ultimately very flawed, but her imperfections possibly make it easier for the reader to take her story as something to be heeded. The budding interest between Paige and her captor is interesting but also takes a backseat: it is not the point of the whole frame, as it would be in Twilight or some such work. Some critics have disparaged Paige as too self-absorbed and inconsiderate of others, obsessed with her gift but unwilling to push her limits, but I think the very fact that she has all these problems allow her to be a real human being, not a one-track-mind cyborg (*ahem* Bella) who can do nothing except chase a horribly toxic relationship with a horribly unavailable and dangerous individual. Our Paige is young and she messes up (a lot). She gets angry at Warden (not that he doesn't entirely deserve it) and gets into fights and spins out of control as she flails against the huge dystopian force that is Scion London.
Trying to find a book to read for dystopia was really interesting because it brought up a lot of questions and observations about the genre. Originally, I thought about doing Ender's Game for this month's category, but when I read the internet's thoughts on the matter, it seemed as if Ender was widely not considered dystopic because it takes place during the end of the world as the characters know it, rather than after. I feel that this is an unfairly specific restriction on dystopia because one could argue that it is never really the end of THE world but rather the end of A world. In this respect, I think Ender's Game could've worked nicely but I'm glad I chose The Bone Season because there's something about near-future radical regime shift stories that speaks to me lately. The Bone Season is at its core about exclusion. Parallels can be drawn to Holocaust tropes ("a humane means of removing clairvoyants from ordinary society" p402) or anti-gay propaganda (the pamphlet Jaxon writes is called On The Merits of Unnaturalness) or even vampire stories (at one point Warden drinks Paige's blood to restore him after he rebelliously gets his ass shredded by an Emim, not to mention that the Rephaim sleep during the day). But Shannon does not pedestal any of these threads, does not allow any singular one to become a watchword for her story. In this way, as well, I think it is derivative and silly to compare her to "the next J.K. Rowling." Allow her to be her own phenomenon, should her work deserve it. I myself am looking forward to seeing that it does.
The Bone Season is being hailed as everything from the next J.K. Rowling to the next Stephanie Meyer, and the reader reviews are just as varied. I truly enjoyed this book, thought it was new and full and a good first start. There were of course some failings, it being Shannon's first time out of the gate and all, but I don't think any of the comparisons both critics and publishers are making are fair to her--or anyone's--nascent talent. Being compared to such publishing powerhouses could automatically stunt Shannon's growth under all the pressure such completely different stories unfairly place upon her. To me, there were many things that were inspiring about this book, first and foremost that Samantha Shannon is 22 and published, an beacon of hope to me as an aspiring 22 year old writer who still only writes on her lunch break at the coffee shop. Her main character is a strong young woman who claws her way out of the world that was forced upon her. And her imagination is to die for. Being a lover of words, I was so excited to have a glossary in the back and a hierarchy of (vaguely defined) types of clairvoyants in the front. While many critics raked Shannon across the coals for "info-dumping" and unintelligible language, my heart leapt at the challenge of understanding not only this new world but the way it describes itself. I have been looking for a new world to jump into lately, and I think Samantha Shannon's The Bone Season just might do the trick.
Sunday, September 15, 2013
Sleepy Hollow (2013): Meet Ichabod Crane with a Backbone
The new Sleepy Hollow premiered on Fox tonight, created by sci-fi bigwigs Roberto Orci and Alex Kurtzman. I've always loved Sleepy Hollow, from the bumbling Ichabod in the animated version to the screamy-fainty big-eyed Johnny Depp in Tim Burton's version. This sort of dark fantasy has always intrigued me, the beauty of it paired with the mystery of the unknown. I've read a lot of little tumblr review blurbs about the show to try to sort through how I feel about this new show, and a lot of it I've read from both camps is right in line with how I'm feeling. Mostly, I am intrigued, though, and that intrigue stems from all the threads Orci and Kurtzman are pulling in to shake up the story: some Revelations prophesy, a witchcraft undercurrent to everything you know about history, time-travel thrusting an ordinary human to a still-ordinary-but-different world (albeit 250 years in the future), among other things.
First of all, the main players. Abbie Mills, Ichabod Crane, the Headless Horseman, Katrina Crane--even the ones they killed off in the first episode (sorry, spoilers...). The relationships are well-developed and well-executed for the pilot of a new show, and enough of a plot surfaces to drive certain ones together and others apart. Abbie makes me me happy at my core, a strong [minority] woman in the lead role, in a place of [relative] power, who makes her own decisions and isn't obviously sexualized from the first second. The relationship established between her and Ichabod right away is one of understanding, of being an outsider, of being made to feel small without anything you can do to stop it. It is not romantic, it is not her being saved by him or swept off her feet She is confident in her capability, even when faced with things that shake her to her core, make her remember the day that broke a part of her. This man who has had such a history of unsurety and doubt, Ichabod Crane, finally has a backbone. He doesn't bumble like the animated one, and he isn't a scream away from a faint like Johnny Depp. He is impressively cavalier about accepting his fate, all the while adapting to 21st-century sarcasm while devoting himself to the task at hand, but he can't figure out how to open a car door. He's pretty scruffy and attractive, there's no doubting that, but somehow he was written with an actual personality to go with it! Flaws and everything! Even being supernaturally tied to a big scary axe-wielding mystery man doesn't seem to phase him. Granted, he is told that in a dream by his assumed-to-be-dead lovely wife Katrina. A strong, powerful GORGEOUS witch with bitchin red hair. She was, obviously, burned at the stake for witchcraft shortly after Ichabod "died" and is somehow still playing games that no one knows the rules to except for her and a few select members of different covens. I've heard angry hard-core feminist rants about her boobs being pretty prominent all the time but hey, 1780s fashion, amirite? A good décolletage was a girl's best friend, especially as a means of manipulation, and I am sure Katrina Crane was no stranger to getting her way by any means necessary. She was the one who cast the spell that bound her lover to the Headless Horseman, after all. Speaking of said Horseman, he is probably the most interesting twist on the old mythos: Death itself come again as one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, and Sleepy Hollow is his battleground. Not to mention the fact that he's actually pretty good with an assault rifle.
The stories were made better by the cinematography, the general feel of the show. Even the corniest concept can be made great when treated with the right respect. The colors are brilliant and there is a really interesting use of camera angles, especially when heads are involved--or rather, camera perspectives. In one such moment, a beheading occurs and the camera is seemingly looking out of the eyes of the beheaded as it falls to the ground. I'm interested to see how they'll deal with the hell-characters aspect of the first season. The feel of the show was very similar to Grimm and Supernatural, with a touch of old X-Files believer/non-believer dichotomy.
The thing that I am nervous about was the heavy-handed insinuation of the general layout of the show: "Two witnesses brought together for a seven-year period of tribulations" -- I am nervous about this show getting ahead of itself before it figures out how to grow up and not be a corny little knockoff show that's too full of itself. However, I do enjoy the plan because it implies that there is, you know, a plan. . . this shouldn't end up like Lost that forgot what the hell it was doing by season 4. I am looking forward to following this show, if not religiously then academically, if you'll excuse the turn of phrase. There's the historical aspect that I like a lot, and the fictionalization of certain moments and persons from history itself really tickles my fancy. There is a beautiful use of sarcasm and fish-out-of-water humor, and a refreshing number of sassy remarks. But really, in the end, it just comes down to this:
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Find a spot where you are comfortable waiting
When I was talking to my family's financial advisor earlier this summer, he said something that struck me. He said that this is a hugely important transitional period in my life and if I don't know what I'd like to do yet, I should "find a spot where I am comfortable waiting." It struck me because I really think I have for the moment. I got this new promotion at the café, I'm writing more, applying to jobs; I have an amazing relationship with my boyfriend and my parents, I have a good new place to live, and a solid schedule to keep myself in check. The future is uncertain and scary but I am learning to cope, learning to write and get it out, while still allowing myself small happinesses. I have found my spot to be comfortable.
Saturday, August 31, 2013
AUG - The Club Dumas
August review for the Eclectic Reader's Book Challenge 2013: The Club Dumas by Arturo Pérez-Reverte, 1996. [Historical Mystery category]
The Club Dumas by Arturo Pérez-Reverte is a an interesting novel. The main players all have shadows from great literature wound into their characters, and the main plot line hinges on the authentication of an old chapter of a Dumas manuscript, the line between reality and fiction ever blurring. Our protagonist--though not our narrator--is middle-aged cynic Lucas Corso, book detective, and we follow him on two seemingly intertwined errands: one for a fellow mercenary of the book industry in authenticating a lost manuscript chapter from The Three Musketeers; the other a mysterious side project for which he is being paid handsomely, researching a satanic book called The Book of the Nine Doors of the Kingdom of Shadows, a book that only has three known copies. As he follows the trails of clues from Spain to Sintra to Paris, his life becomes dangerously entwined with fiction in a way that he cannot get ahead of. The narrative power lies with a seemingly inconsequential character who fades into the background after a few acknowledgements, Boris Balkan, and this subtle omniscience helps to set the stage for the way the book is going to deal with its themes. His presence in the background almost causes the reader to not realize that Pérez-Reverte is constantly changing the rules of the story, leaving us as much in the dark as our dispassionate "hero" is. There are always characters around Corso that know more than he does, and as hard as he tries to gain their knowledge, he can never quite get there. Case in point is the mysterious girl Corso falls into line with, the girl with the striking green eyes who introduces herself as Irene Adler and gives no explanation to her part in the narrative. All the women especially have this one-step-ahead quality.
Speaking of young Irene, allow to indulge my favorite intellectual pastime and look at the lady characters! The three major players are Liana Taillefer, the Girl, and Baroness Frieda Ungern, each compared to an incredibly competent fictional figures: Milady de Winter from Alexandre Dumas' The Three Musketeers, Irene Adler from the Sherlock Holmes stories, and Miss Marple of Agatha Christie's mystery novels, respectively. These characters are surprising in all their respective stories, always self-confident and knowledgeable and ultimately capable of fulfilling their own agendas. It translates nicely to the three women in Corso's new whirlwind adventure.
The first one we meet is Liana Taillefer, widow of the publisher whose untimely death snarled all this business up. Liana is very obviously sexualized from the start, from our distant narrator taking advantage of her while she thought she was making a trade, to her apparent seduction of Corso's friend La Ponte (who hired Corso for the Dumas project in the first place). And then she is increasingly compared to Milady, a character from the very story she is trying to authenticate. Toward the end of the tale, the narrator brings up an interesting debate about the character of Milady,
Second is the Girl, the one with the striking green eyes who keeps showing up in Corso's line of sight, the one who unsmilingly deems herself Irene Adler. She is the young one, she represents youth, dispassionate knowledge, some sort of baffling protection. Corso ends up sleeping with her as well, but it isn't as easy as taking Liana Taillefer. The Girl speaks to Corso on a level that is lower than consciousness, than logical thought, but all the same a level that he needs as much as his constant imbibing of Bols gin.
Third but possibly most important is Baroness Frieda Ungern, the last stop on Corso's Nine Doors treasure hunt. Linked to brilliant and crafty Miss Marple, f all the owners of The Nine Doors, the Baroness is the most forthcoming, the most knowledgeable, most down-to-earth. She engages Corso more than any of the other owners of the Nine Doors, and her cult status as a witch intrigues him. She got the book from Madame de Montespan--another powerful, outspoken woman. There is history here out in the open, and Corso doesn't have to equivocate or break back in at night to absorb it. It was a meeting of the minds on an equal plane, and even though Corso held some things back, Baroness is no fool. She helped him more than the other two owners combined, and her wisdom helped Corso to solve the case eventually.
Not only did Pérez-Reverte take historical characters and events for his literary thriller, but he also mimicked the style of the very stories he used as his backdrop. I say this in terms of the format and tone Pérez-Reverte employs: The Club Dumas looks at serials like that of Dumas, including some substantial historical information about the rise of serials and the tendencies of Alexandre Dumas, père, and each chapter sort of feels like a chapter in a serial, ending with the sword looming ominously above the neck, an untold secret just come to light, a near-death experience. Sure it is a little disconnected, and you have to wait until the next page to realize what the characters have already pieced together, but I think it adds to the playfulness with which Pérez-Reverte deals with the idea of a serial. It's sort of a tongue-in-cheek appropriation of the style that lends itself nicely to the "historical mystery" category.
As for my overall opinion of the book? I enjoyed it, it was a nice change of pace. The last third of the book hit me almost at a jumble, with the coalescence of two different stories, and I was as confused as Corso when they didn't all fit together, but somehow it worked better for me. It reinforced the line between reality and fiction that had become so blurred throughout the novel. Apparently Roman Polanski fudged up that ending in his lifted The Ninth Gate (1999) starring Johnny Depp, but that's a different story.
Sunday, August 18, 2013
Passive-aggressive post-its
There's nothing quite like coming into work--after steeling yourself for a shift you didn't want anyway--and the first thing you find is a scathing note about how bad a job you did at work last night. Why is my workplace the Mecca of passive aggressive post it notes? It makes everyone edgy and insinuates an undercurrent of defensiveness into all of your interactions; is she the one that thinks I do a terrible job sweeping? Does he have a problem with the way I put out cupcakes? Why are these such huge issues? Why can't people stop and think about what night the person you are writing this note to was having and be a little compassionate? I am more and more feeling anxiety-ridden by this basic, boring job. I need a change. Preferably one that doesn't know about post-it notes.
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
Terrors from festivals past!
HEY EVERYBODY! The small film festival I work for, The Three Corpse Circus, is coming back for its fourth annual extravaganza on September 28, 2013! One of my brilliant co-conspirators whipped up this beauty as a little reminder of how awesome we've been before. Take a look at our past terrors!
The shorts featured are as follows (in order):
- Opstandelsen
3CC Audience Choice Award Winner 2010
Jawbreaker Productions
Denmark
Directed by Casper Haugegaard
“Opstandelsen” brings the zombie apocalypse into the house of God. - Green Glass Door
Festival Choice Runner Up 2012
Eye Candy Films
Kentucky, USA
Directed by Antonio Pantoja
Will you solve the riddle? 6 strangers wake up to find themselves bound to their chairs by a sadistic killer. Each have a lone opportunity to solve the riddle. If they answer incorrectly, their fate is decided by their unique hint. - Nursery Crimes
Festival Choice Award Winner 2011
United Kingdom
Produced by Janice Aitken
Little Bo Peep has slaughtered her sheep, and doesn’t know where to hide them. - I was a Tranny Werewolf
Directed by Lola Rock’N’Rolla
New York, USA
Vow to wax! as a young girl is teased for her excessive-body hair problem. - Familiar
Festival Choice Award Winner 2012
Fatal Pictures
Canada
Written and directed by Richard Powell
John is a simple man, he lives a simple life- in a mediocre house with his teenage daughter and his even simpler wife. If only contentment was equally as simple. John has an anger inside of him that has been growing for quite some time. His simple life and inner rage have become all too familiar and something is about to change. - Blood Bunny
Directed by Molly Madfis
When they tried to write him out of his own holiday, one bunny went hopping mad! - Revenge
Out of Hand Films
Michigan, USA
Directed by Tim Malik
Montel Stewart will find a tortuous end because of one man’s revenge. - Refuge 115
Best Scare Award Winner 2012
Directed by Ivan Villamel Sanchez
El Dedo en el Ojo S.L.
Spain
Directed by Ivan Villamel Sanchez
March 18, 1938, the population of Barcelona is devastated by the continued indiscriminate bombing of fascist aviation. Jordi and Aina are a young couple in love who has not lost faith in salvation and freedom, and safeguard one of the many bomb refuges throughout the city of Barcelona. Something unknown is hidden in the darkness of the refuge, hidden and waiting to take one by one people are hidden from external danger. Aina and Jordi try to find a loophole for all those people, before the outputs are closed. - The Zombie Factor
Best of Fest Award Winner 2012
Audience Choice Award Winner 2012
Michigan, USA
Directed by Matt Cantu
The zombie apocalypse becomes REALITY on The Zombie Factor, the most dangerous show on television. Every episode, someone dies. The Zombie Factor puts contestants head-to-head against flesh-eating zombies. And on this reality show, as the people are eliminated, they become part of the stable of zombies and used against their fellow competitors. - Predator/Prey
Can of Chili Productions LLC
New York, USA
Directed by Kent Kitzman
Eva (MARISA PIERINI) is away from home for the first time at a summer sleepaway camp. But, when violence erupts between the people in charge of her protection, she must perform a shocking act to ensure her survival. - Backwater Gospel
Best Scare Award Winner 2011
The Animation Workshop
Denmark
Directed by Bo Mathorne
As long as anyone can remember, the coming of The Undertaker has meant the coming of death. Until one day the grim promise fails and tension builds as the God fearing townsfolk of Backwater wait for someone to die.
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
JULY - Dracula the Undead
July review for the Eclectic Reader's Book Challenge 2013: Dracula the Undead by Dacre Stoker and Ian Holt, 2009. [Action Adventure category]
I had bought Dracula the Undead when my beloved Borders was going out of business early last year (fun fact, that is also where/when I bought Drawing in the Dust, my March book!), but it has sat on my shelf ever since. Reading 'Salem's Lot jolted me back into my love of the vampire and I remembered I had this legitimate-looking sequel lying around, waiting for me to sink my fangs into once again. (To be clear, I don't really have fangs, I am not a vampire--though I have inherited some particularly pointy incisors from daddy dearest.) These are my thoughts!
The GIST. Dracula the Undead is the "true" sequel to the Bram Stoker's original Dracula, cowritten by Stoker's great-grandnephew and a Dracula documentarian/historian/screenwriter. According to the Author's note in the back, its intent was to reclaim the Dracula that Bram Stoker envisioned in his 1897 novel that has been co-opted, bastardized, and generally stolen by the popular media. The plotline fallows Quincey Harker, son of Mina and Jonathan Harker of Dracula fame, as he tries to follow his dreams of the theater--instead of his father's dreams for him of the Sorbonne--and how those dreams lead him back to the ancient evil his parents have been guarding from him his entire life. I liked the idea of a sort of next-generation attempt to reclaim the past, both in the fictional characters and the authors themselves, and it seemed to me a good, honest attempt at continuing Bram Stoker's legacy.
The CHARACTERS. Reprising their roles in Dracula the Undead are the brave band of heroes: Mina and Jonathan Harker, Arthur Holmwood (Lord Godalming), Abraham Van Helsing, and Jack Seward. (Get used to the phrase "brave band of heroes," because it comes up A LOT.) They are in various stages of denial and/or conflict about their involvement with Dracula in the past, and they have fallen away from each other--even Mina and Jonathan. Or should I say especially? New to the tale is our quasi-hero, next-gen Quincey Harker who is as-yet unaware of his dark parentage. He is the quintessential angry teen, hating his parents for forcing his life away from where he'd like it to go, and his relationships with said parents are very black-and-white: for a general but hugely plot-hole-y example, he quickly turns against his mother and judges her without the full story, all the while taking her word about his father and completely absolving said drunkard of any aforementioned misdeeds. Of course, the tale wouldn't come to fruition if Quincey was on his mother's side at the end. On the other side of the table is Countess Elizabeth Bathory, the new "absolute evil" come to London. She is our new Big Bad, but within the first 40 pages, we get her backstory of a loveless, abusive marriage and subsequent imprisonment. There is a feminine sympathy I found in the way she presents her tale, her own history in her own words--and this quality of allowing everyone their own voice is what pulls the characters in this novel up from the flatness of their ever-recycled prototypes. So often is Count Dracula portrayed as an infuriatingly black, evil character with no wiggle room. The original Dracula in Stoker's mind was an eloquent and complex antihero, and his apparent reincarnation here allows him his own voice again. This grey area the coauthors allow for the two vampires in order to examine the idea of "pure evil" is not extended to the human characters who, like Quincey as I mentioned before, are violently convinced one way or the other about what they think is right and wrong, which I think does a discredit to the characters Bram brought to life in his original.
One thing that has always intrigued me about the vampire was the incredibly sexualized nature these metaphysical beings seem to have taken on throughout the years, and this overt sexuality is very apparent here. Bathory is abused and then shunned for realizing her homosexuality and escaping her marriage, and that preference is continued on a wildly bloody scale to her actions as a vampire. Countess Elizabeth Bathory was said to have killed thousands and bathed in their blood orgiastically. True as that may be, its incorporation here offers a distinct dichotomy between her actions and the actions of the only other real female lead in the novel, Mina Harker. Their decisiveness and confidence is upsettingly linked to the vampire, the dark, which Mina eventually succumbs to under the guise of joining her one true lover. Ultimately the female characteristics of docile flirtatiousness are kept alive in the memory of pure Lucy Westenra while other, more self-actualized female traits are condemned with Bathory and Mina. Something that as a 21st century woman of higher education and relative broad-mindedness, I found hard to internalize.
In terms of ACTION ADVENTURE, the category I chose for this novel, I was not disappointed. It is most certainly an updated vampire tale, building off of the amalgamation of lore that has stacked up over the years while still trying to bring to light only the attributes Bram originally put forth in his novel. I didn't feel myself particularly tied to one character as my adventurer protagonist, though; granted Quincey is the newcomer whose understanding spurs on the climax, but all the characters seemed spread thin, and I didn't necessarily like any particular one of them (I hated Inspector Cotford though. So infuriatingly blind). In this respect, I think the "action adventure" trope falls short.
The RESEARCH. In retrospect, it could've also very well fit into historical mystery, mostly due to the real-life events and people the coauthors decided to lay their story over, like the Jack the Ripper murders and the Titanic maiden voyage. also in terms of the historical accuracy, the legacy being reclaimed, etc. (afterword by the coauthors). To get the full effect of this brilliant sequel, you need to read the afterword and the author's note. Something geeks like me love to do ;] I would love to be a historical fiction writer like this. The way these two men went about writing this book is so fascinating to me; it's one of the things that pushed me toward being a history major, an endeavor I ended up leaving due to the intensely factual nature of most history courses. Not that I don't like facts, but I learn better through stories, I've found. This story is an interesting confluence of research, fusing literature and the historical past to try to explain the unexplainable. It was more or less a fun read--except for wanting to skip over everything Cotford said ever--and I believe Dracula the Undead has deserved a place under the Stoker umbrella.
M. Night Shyamalan's The Village (2004)
Tonight after work, I watched M. Night Shyamalan's 2004 thriller-masterpiece (thrilsterpiece? no, that's not good...) The Village. It had been sitting in my family's TV cabinet for years and I'd never really looked at it--nor had anyone else apparently, as it was pretty dusty when I picked it out to bring back to school with me last week. I'd seen a few of M. Night's movies, knew he was famous for The Twist Ending (that guy was Bruce Willis the whole time! ... anyone?), and didn't really go either way on the love him/hate him front. I had no idea what this movie was about, except a village (duh) and some ominous music I remembered from the trailer when it came out originally. Of the friends I watched it with, one had seen it but didn't remember the twist, and one was as clueless as me, so I was in good company for a first time viewing. Beware: here there be spoilers!
I like movies that make me think, ones that leave me speechless, ones that don't do my thinking for me. The Village was like that for me. The Village was billed as horror, I suppose, but it was so much more: the fact that you see the creatures, The Ones We Do Not Speak Of, halfway through the movie--albeit from afar and relatively blurrily--makes it less of a monster thriller and more about the people in the town itself. Sometimes the creepiest horror stories are the ones that aren't about the supernatural or the unexplainable; they are the ones about real flesh-and-blood humans and the way our natures can go terribly wrong.
I really want the twist to be that this village is a cult and outside it's really like 2009. But probly not. #TheVillage #thatsnotthetwist
— Caitlin Clayton (@caitclay) July 31, 2013
This was like 40 minutes into the movie. I'm not saying I'm psychic buuuut...
A general rundown of the story if it's been a while for you: everybody lives in this quaint little countryside village, ostensibly in the middle of nowhere, but there is obviously fear here--exhibit A, two full-skirted girls having a wonderful time sweeping the porch when they see a scary red flower and run a safe distance away from the house to bury it without explanation but with mortal terror in their eyes. The Elders run the town, and it is made up mostly of the parents of each of our protagonists: handicapped Noah Percy (Adrien Brody)'s parents have no audible names but cry a lot toward the end of the film; heartthrob Lucius Hunt--who does not bounce about like the other boys, father--is brought to brooding life by Joaquin Phoenix and is mothered by the incomparable Sigourney Weaver, who wears no makeup and has a lot of sexual tension; blind Ivy Walker (badass then-newcomer Bryce Dallas Howard) is one of the daughters of the revered Reverend Edward Walker (William Hurt) and his wife Tabitha (Jayne Atkinson), who obviously isn't that into him because papa Walker is said to be the cause of mama Hunts aforementioned sexual tension. Angsty Irishman Brendan Gleeson is August Nicholson, whose pain pushes our story into motion with the loss of his son. Ever-honorable Lucius approaches Ye Olde Council to ask permission to go through the forest of beasties to fetch medical supplies that could've saved Nicholson's son, but everyone says no because they don't want to breach the boarder and make Those We Do Not Speak Of angry enough to attack again. Business as usual: people are married, loves are professed, but the attacks come anyway. Even in this quaint little nowhere town jealousy comes to rear its ugly head, bringing with it attempted murder: Noah stabs Lucius after the latter announces his intentions to marry Ivy, and Ivy leaves her beloved on his deathbed to go to the towns and subsequently learn what the deal is with their perfect little town.
It would've been easy for this movie to fail based on characters alone. It is difficult to write a blind or mentally handicapped character without making their pain seem co-opted, but Shyamalan worked the intricacies of each character's disability into their mannerisms, their speech, and ultimately their actions (i.e. the plot). At one point, my friend asked, "Ok, whyyy do you send the blind girl to "the towns" through the creepy monster-infested woods," and while part of the answer is to further the plot (she can't see modernity outside the walls, so the towns dirty little secret stays safe), but it is also because that is her character, and because of her blindness, Ivy has actually become one of the most capable and aware characters in the entire story. She continues to have footraces with Noah and break up fights and dance the lovely choreographed dances that everyone in town knows and even go to the freaking forbidden forest alone because her escorts are awful and pansy-assed. While at first I was irked that the female protagonist was the blind one (disabled by a man, and other feminist inklings), I grew more and more impressed with Ivy Walker, standing her ground to wait and see if Lucius was safe during the attack, continuing on through the forest and killing the monster that stalked her in the woods; basically never giving up, even when faced with the very evil her she grew up fearing though her father just recently told her it was a hoax (I mean, hearing and believing are two very different things). She was dedicated to her goal and came back to her love, and the movie closed on her face, staring straight into the camera with unseeing eyes, as she so often did. I loved her.
Look at that face. That girl gives no fucks.
Later, my boyfriend and I discussed the ending. He mentioned how he would've liked the original draft ending better; where death itself was watching over the town which was in some sort of limbo. I agree that that particular ending would be excellent as well, but I kind of liked how it was brought down to earth, how the most unexpected thing to do in a supernatural monster movie is to make the monsters actually humans and the whole thing a grand experiment that makes poor security guard Kevin question what he is doing with his godforsaken life. The slow reveal of more and more toward the end is typical of a Shyamalan flick, and I think the quality of having to think backward after a film is over is one of my favorite aspects of a well-done movie like this.
Now, I'm not saying that every aspect of the plot works logistically and some of the questions I had after the movie ended were certainly substantial, (like why they went back to the 1800s, why the only way they made them sound old timey was to eliminate contractions, how the village was going to continue when the elders were no more, etc) but The Village was cinematically executed to a near-perfection. Shyamalan used every masking of the frame to enhance who was speaking, allowing the camera to follow Ivy from the back so we too were blind as she walked, focusing on hands and feet and movement rather than particular faces, intense color binaries unexplained early on and left to pop up again and again until we understood them better--these are the things that made me love this movie.
After re-watching the trailer, it occurs to me that I watched the film on the anniversary of it coming out in theaters. Huh.
The Village, 2004. Dir. M. Night Shyamalan. Bryce Dallas Howard, Joaquin Phoenix, Sigourney Weaver, William Hurt, Adrien Brody.
Thursday, July 25, 2013
My summer of the vampire
It started out innocently enough. Being a newly-minted horror aficionado, I wanted to read more Stephen King. So I picked up one of his most famous (and his favorite, apparently) books, 'Salem's Lot (1975). I had always sort of loved vampires, I'd read Dracula when I was in high school, and it seemed like a good solid book to take with me on vacation. (Since I was about 13, I wasn't allowed to buy books at less than three or four hundred pages, because my mom said I read them too fast.) So I did.
I read 'Salem's Lot all through Israel, though less often than I would've thought. I loved it. I loved King's style of focused omniscience, changing with every chapter. I loved the chapters that were from The Town's perspective. But most of all, I loved that he didn't use the actual word "vampire" until at least page 300, but you knew what it was about from page 10. A master of storytelling and insinuation, that one. I had fallen in love again. So it seemed a simple enough continuation that for my July Eclectic Reader challenge I would choose Dracula The Undead by Dacre Stoker and Ian Holt, a sequel to the original. I didn't think much of it at the time.
Now, nearly two months later, I finished both novels, read the first installment of Charlaine Harris's Sookie Stackhouse books (on which HBO's blockbuster True Blood is based), re-read Dracula and have just picked up Anne Rice's Interview With A Vampire, which has been sitting on my shelf since my first intoxication with the undead.
So why the sudden spike?
I've always loved the undead, the concept of a different sort of life playing by different sort of rules, and I think I've become more in tune with that now, as a recent grad trying to navigate this world that apparently has no apparent rules that I'm familiar with. Trying to find a new job and a new purpose in a new era is really hard, so much easier to just sit and read about vampires who couldn't give a shit about any of that stuff.
Sunday, July 7, 2013
NEIL FLIPPING GAIMAN, EVERYBODY.
Holy shit, guys. Today I saw NEIL GAIMAN. In person. I heard him speak his beautiful words and read from his beautiful new book and just generally be awesome. He told stories about Shirley MacLaine pulling his hair in Santa Fe, his son at age 4 wanting a goldfish instead of a dad, the best way to maintain one's humility (a cat!), how he thinks and other wonderfully normal things. His flight and subsequent arrival was delayed due to complications at the SF airport from the crash yesterday, so we were entertained for a good two hours with old BBC archive footage of interviews and readings, our crowd laughing along with the one on the screen. As Neil caught his breath once he came onstage, I was reassured of the incomparable humility most of my favorite writers have. He told a story about how there was a girl on his plane who recognized him who was on her way to Ann Arbor to see him, still distraught that she was going to miss the show (even after seeing the man himself!). He signed her boarding pass just in case, but said "the show can't really start without me, now can it?" But in a totally non-douchey way. Just humble and logical and reassuring.
Being at his book tour for his new novel, Neil read from said new novel, The Ocean At The End Of The Lane, which he wrote for Amanda. Then answered with "terrifying randomness" a bunch of index-carded questions that he hadn't had time to go through before the show due to his tardiness. We got to hear how weird he was as a kid, sitting under tables to read (it's dark and quiet and no one will bother you!); how to actually pronounce his last name (his grandmother changed it not-quite-legally between the engagement and the wedding because she liked the spelling better); he acknowledged his grumpiness at his wife being away which led to the writing of this short-story-accidentally-turned-book.
As a writer myself, I think my most meaningful memories of the night will be when he talked about himself as a writer. About where he gets his ideas. How he decides to do what he wants to do next. He said he got his ideas out of his head, by taking one thing that people know all about and another thing that people know all about and pushing them together and seeing what happens. (like...a chairwolf!) When asked about writing sequels (specifically of Stardust), he made a comment about doing something that he knows absolutely how to do and everyone expects him to do and something that's already half formed, but then on the other hand there's this thing that he has no clue how to do and no one at all is expecting..."and I generally just hare off after that!" he said with a flourish and a laugh. I love that idea of new territory. I am exploring it more and more every day, what with being recently graduated and trying to find my way in the "Real World." Neil is a self-professed "maker-upper" and I try every day to emulate that beautiful feeling.
I didn't stay to get my book signed. I was alone and tired and hungry and had waited for two hours before I even got close to having my section called, at which time I would've still had to wait in the serpentine line that snaked up the grand staircase at the Michigan theater, around the balcony, and back down the stairs to Neil Himself. I wrestled with my decision for a long time; because this is Neil's last US signing tour, it would be special to have that, and i could've traded in my copy for a presigned one if I really wanted to (he signed hundreds throughout the actual meeting-people parts, as is apparent in the really grainy camera photo below), but I'd already written in my copy, notes and little hearts and things that it made me think of, and I didn't want to let those first blushes go. I was there, I heard him speak, I laughed with the rest--I didn't need a signature to make myself feel validated. I didn't want to be one face out of 1700 on a conveyor belt. Who knows what the future will bring?
Some of the best quotes of the night:
and of course, my favorite:
Sunday, June 30, 2013
Much Ado About Joss Whedon
review of Joss Whedon's Much Ado About Nothing (2013). Bellwether Pictures.
{NOTE: this review contains spoilers and also assumes the reader has a working knowledge of the play itself. Sorry if you're not in those categories...}
Cast of Characters: Amy Acker as Beatrice, Alexis Denisof as Benedick, Nathan Fillion as Dogberry, Clark Gregg as Leonato, Reed Diamond as Don Pedro, Fran Kranz as Claudio, Jillian Morgese as Hero, Sean Maher as Don John, Spencer Treat Clark as Borachio, Riki Lindhome as Conrade, Ashley Johnson as Margaret, Tom Lenk as Verges, Brian McElhaney and Nick Kocher as the watchmen, and Romy Rosemont as the Sexton.
I am an unabashed Joss Whedon fan. I love Buffy and Dollhouse and Firefly and Cabin in the Woods and Fray and Doctor Horrible and his zombie Republican video and his work with BriTANicK. . . the list could go on. My writing desk is peppered with his quotes traced lovingly onto lined paper in forceful black ink, where I can see them and be inspired by his nerd brain whenever I am at a loss for words or direction. Needless to say, I was beyond pumped when I heard my dear Joss was filming a version of my favorite Shakespeare play to be out this year, and the fact that he filmed it in his own house in 12 days with a bunch of his actor friends whose work I also know and love made me love him even more.
As soon as the first scene opened, my smile stretched wide--I could feel that I was going to enjoy this, and I was giddy with excitement. The not-quite-black-and-white color scheme gave the film a somber feel at first, but it worked wonders as the film paced itself out and got down with its screwball self. It was almost like it increased the focus on the faces because they were so stark and defined, and it helped bridge the gap between the modern dress and the archaic language. I could tell from the first canted high angle and off-center focus of Benedick silently getting dressed that the cinematography was going to be brilliant, framing just what needed to be framed in order for the scene to pack its full emotional punch. The film jumps back and forth from somber with undernotes of betrayal to giddy with suggestions of gleeful romping as fast as it takes for the viewer to decide if the black of Clark Gregg's suit jacket is really black or more of an emerald-tinted darkness in a single scene. The poles of angst and comedy are almost brutally encapsulated in certain characters, Don John being representative of the former and the good Constable Dogberry being gleefully indicative of the latter, and yet even the darkest scene where Hero is senselessly called out by her so-called true love (yeah, I'm a little bitter) still garnered laughs from some of the folks in my audience.
That's another thing I love about Joss Whedon. His ability to find the laughter. He has this quote that goes like this: "Make it dark, make it grim, make it tough, but then, for the love of God, tell a joke." And with Joss at the helm of Much Ado, I knew one of my absolute favorite comedic characters in the entire history of all literature ever would get his day in the sun: Dogberry. The bumbling constable of Messina, king of malapropisms and misunderstandings, one of the most seemingly-incompetent characters in the film who actually saves the day and makes everyone happy again. His lines are some of the funniest in the play when delivered with such gusto as the god Nathan Fillion so does, and I love him for it. Dogberry and his co-constable, Verges (played by Tom Lenk, the eternal child/wannabe-bad guy Andrew Wells of Buffy fame), and the two night watchmen (brought to hilarious life by the BriTANicK comedy duo) were possibly the kings of the facial expression, raising eyebrows at Dogberry's every misused word ("This is your charge: you shall comprehend all vagrom men") but still trying their best to do their jobs. Some critics say that these characters were meant to criticize the contemporary police force when Shakespeare wrote the play, but I've always felt them to be a beacon of hope, a sort of reassurance that no matter how smart you think you are, you can always save the day. Because even supporting characters have that power.
Joss is the master director of clever facial expressions, and he is perfect for this play that is all about undertones and suggestion and hilarity ensuing. For those not in the know, Much Ado About Nothing is a Shakespeare play from circa 1588 having to do with the matchmaking antics of a few friends to set up two of their gang who are eternally enmeshed in a merry war of wits, never realizing their obvious connection to one another. The casting was brilliant, employing a bunch of Joss's previous actors whose versatility is tried and true, and Joss's direction of their interactions truly cement Much Ado's place in the screwball comedy tradition that it deserves, linking modern apparati with Shakespearean language and reveling in the interplay of the two--for example, when John the Bastard is captured and brought back to Messina, a messenger says "My lord, your brother John is ta'en in flight,/ And brought with armed men back to Messina," and a cameraphone is employed to give witness to this event, showcasing a Cops-style overhead video feed of the arrest.
A sort of set piece in itself, the house used as a home base--Joss's own home, which his wife designed--was beautiful. Its expansive California grandeur lent itself to the partying lifestyle of Shakespeare's Messina, but by centering an entire town's movements on a single location, the house also allowed the film to focus in on the people themselves, ever overlapping and slipping past each other: perfect for a story that is basically 98% about eavesdropping. Think about it--every major plot point involves someone listening in on someone else's conversations: Benedick falling for Beatrice, Beatrice falling for Benedick, Don John's set-up to make Hero look defiled, the revelation of said plot by the watchmen--it's all pure hearsay. Wonderfully plotted hearsay, but still indirect and subject to interpretation, a quality every single character in this play is counting on. At its core, Much Ado is a meditation on the meaning and quality of human interaction, and Joss Whedon, with his masterful combination of Shakespeare's fine words and his own knowledge of the human body's ability to showcase and shape those words with nothing more than a raised eyebrow, has terrifically succeeded in translating a phenomenal play into a phenomenal piece of film.
Thursday, June 27, 2013
JUNE - Suck It, Wonder Woman
June review for the Eclectic Reader's Book Challenge 2013: Suck It, Wonder Woman!: The Misadventures of a Hollywood Geek by Olivia Munn (with Mac Montandon), 2010. [Memoir category]
(Fuck you, Olivia Munn, you do NOT have thick thighs.)
Okay, now that I got that out of the way. I can attempt to talk about this book in a civilized manner. Sort of. Apologies if this review becomes somewhat more of a tangential examination than a straight book review. I have a lot of feelings. Also if it folds back and forth on itself--I'm really just trying to figure out said feelings about the book.Overall, I had middling feelings toward it, but the things that made me angry are pretty big eyesores in my opinion and I wanted to give them their due, push against the things that made me uncomfortable coming from a woman I so admired. Here we go.
The gist of Olivia Munn's 2010 memoir-slash-funny-stories-about-her-life-collection Suck It, Wonder Woman!: The Misadventures of a Hollywood Geek seems to be a brash declaration of Munn's status as a Geek Sex Symbol, mostly stemming from her run as a host on G4's Attack Of The Show. When I first picked up the book at Motor City Comic Con a few months ago, drawn by the intriguing title and funny cover posing, I was excited. I like Olivia Munn, especially on HBO's summer blockbuster The Newsroom (returning for its second season in a few days!!!). I admire her disregard for stereotypes and her brazen ownership of a traditionally under-the-rug epithet. I was looking forward to loving every word of her sardonic take on the ridiculously sex-crazed society that has become our Mount Olympus of sorts, excited to take it almost as a gospel for a geek girl like myself, but I felt myself getting a little more angry, a little more annoyed, as the book went on. the sex-positive geek girl is a concept that seems to come under much contention lately. As another reviewer on GoodReads said, I decided at the end that I still like Olivia Munn, but I did not like this book.
It makes me unspeakably sad to not like a book by someone who seems to be trying in earnest to cast a positive image for women in comedy and film, and this was no exception. I didn't enjoy reading Suck It, Wonder Woman! as much as I thought I was going to: Munn contradicts herself (as I have been doing for days trying to write this review and figure out how I feel about it), she uses the same jokes over and over again, her candor is illuminating at times but abrasive most of of the time--the flickers of actual personality sprinkled throughout the book are what kept me holding on. I mentioned before that the book seems to be proclaiming Olivia's Geek status although there exist within the text few substantial examples of such. I really want to believe that she is the geek she says she is, and not trying to capitalize on the sexy geek girl facade, to which she is dangerously close. She seems to have some connection to geeky stuff and mentions a lot of videogames that she played as an army brat outcast growing up being bounced from school to school, but there doesn't seem to be anything substantive to the claim other than running Attack Of The Show! Now, I'm not saying that Geekdom is a club for which you need to have references and a resume and a look-what-I've-done-to-prove-myself compendium, but I was disheartened by her continual use of pejorative language and suggestions for guys to "Totally Help You Score!" (title of chapter 17), adding the qualifier that geeky girls are somehow special and take certain XP to get with, maybe? Her language is almost intentionally abrasive--the opening anecdote about her first boyfriend ends with a revelation that he had Tourette's, and her response was that it was some kind of shitty karma, an almost "why me?" feeling. Not cool. Plus, incorrect use of the concept of “karma,” as I was informed by my Buddhist coworker. Double not cool.
While some of those suggestions were good and thought-provoking (like WHAT), many of them still seemed to fall under the typical "pretend to listen to girls because thats how you get what you want" heading. And I was angry. It appeared to me like Olivia was trying to be funny and appealing to all, but in a sort of angry way. Almost condescending?. She tells countless grotesque stories about other people in the industry--only one of whom actually has a name, almost like she's hiding behind her hilarity to ignore the fact that she's still relatively small-time and maybe isn’t Hollywood enough to be saying these steamy tell-all tales she’s telling. The one nameless story I actually enjoyed was chapter 9, "My Dinner with Harvard's Finest" (p76). It is one of the only times Olivia comes out as actively almost-feminist (though at one point in the books she denies the title), staring down a Hollywood bigwig's date and asking her why she lets him talk to her like that, calling her a whore and asking the others if they thought she was a whore. Although, at the end of the chapter, Munn does jump to conclusions and judge the girl as she pulls away with a community college bumper sticker on her car. Less than stellar.
On that note, I'd like to examine the sexuality and body-image aspects of the text. In the bottom corner of the book there is a teensy flip-book of Olivia in a long shirt/short dress type outfit waving and doing sexy things. Inside the cover is a poster of her in a frilly bikini and sailor hat kissing up at the camera. A whole chapter is devoted to her in revealing costumes of "Great Women" who inspired her--without any such meditations as to why or how they can inspire other girls. (Granted, they are each famous for certain things and no doubt those famous things contribute to their inspiration, but still.) While talking about her Playboy cover shoot--which she specifically got contracted to do sans nudity, which is impressive--she perpetuates the image of obsessive dieting and nigh-on-unhealthy eating habits that girls are force-fed every day. EVEN THOUGH later she says "I think it's great for young women to see a real woman, with real breasts and thick thighs considered sexy. I hope that changes the insanely narrow definition of sexy we generally see in the press and on television. Young girls should be proud of their imperfections and curves" (216). These two parts of her image were the most upsetting to me as a less-fit-than-most-twenty-something-girl who has lived with those pressures. I found myself being sucked into the stories, being like “yeah okay I can see why she wouldn’t want to eat if she has to pose--wait WHAT AM I SAYING.”
I found myself pondering the difference between her and say, Felicia Day. Do I respect Felicia a lot more? Why? Felicia still has sexy poses and a healthy knowledge of her body, but most of her time on Twitter is spent geeking out about the new Borderlands 2 patches and who’s going to stay up for the Persona release. Is it because Olivia seems to be selling some sort of sexualized version of the geek girl and because I don't look like her I automatically become angry and distanced from her? That isn’t a feeling I want to internalize. Both of these ladies are funny in their own way, and while both are skinnier than me (which I’m totally ok with, most of the time) I admire their devotion to being real, even if sometimes one or the other falls short. I guess the question I most asked myself is if there’s a world where two such geek girl personalities can exist without completely erasing each other's merits? How do we get there?
Ok, I know i’ve spent a lot of time arguing, against myself and this book and society. But like I said in the first paragraph, I do still like Olivia Munn. Actual glimpses of her personality shone through, and those moments were the ones that tried to hook their not-quite fully-formed fingers into the Memoir category while the rest of the book goes off on a stream-of-consciousness jaunt of its own with little regard for intent, and those moments were the quietest for me, the ones where I really felt connected to this woman, rather than sort of appalled (masturbating with shrimp in one hand story, anyone?). All in all, I admire Olivia for her attempt. This book came out in 2010, before she did Newsroom or her stint on New Girl, two characters that I really felt helped cement her into someone I’d like to get to know. I wonder what she’d have to say now.
Things I actually really enjoyed:
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