An Ode to Banned Book Week

Next week is Banned Book Week! This always gets me so excited. I think there are two reasons:

1. It’s an excuse to read. Because I, you know, need another one of those.

2. I’m a rebel. I’m not planning to track down a copy of Mein Kampf or anything, but reading a book that someone, somewhere, has deemed inappropriate makes me proud to be an American. Freedom of speech rocks.

I think that’s one of the really great things my parents did for my brother, my sister, and myself. Though our movies (The Goonies, The Sandlot, and Ghostbusters) and television (Saved by the Bell, Boy Meets World, and Home Improvement) were highly regimented—as in, we were not allowed to watch any of the aforementioned works—our reading standards were surprisingly lax. I was allowed to go into the tiny library in our town and leave with armfuls of books with almost no restrictions. I wasn’t allowed to read things like The Babysitters Club and Sweet Valley Twins, but I like to think that was on the lack of artistic merits of the books instead of the moral ones. Isn’t that right, mom? I’m pretty sure I’ve read every Newberry Award winner from 1959-1999. (‘69, ’78, ’81, and ’90 are some of my favorite books of all time.)

I love how provocative this kind of literature is. Not in the it’s-all-erotica sense of provocative, but in the makes-you-think kind of way. I will never forget the feeling I had when I first read Orwell’s 1984. Other than a personal tie to the year (it was a good year for bright, brunette girls to be born, they say) I knew it was a classic and I picked it up for some light, summer reading. I read it when I was lifeguarding at a pool that didn’t get a lot of swimmers. For three days, any time I wasn’t forced to be on the stand actually, you know, guarding lives, my nose was stuck in that book. When I got to that epic final line, I actually shouted, appalled that was how Orwell chose to end his stunning work or dystopian genius?! Was there nothing sacred!?

Immediately, I read the line again. I don't know, maybe I expected it to change somehow. Alas, it hadn’t, so I threw the book on the floor and it narrowly missed a puddle of pool-water.

Weeks later, I was still stewing on the ending when it finally hit me: that’s exactly what the writer intended. He wanted me to be bothered by the ending. He wanted me to think about what was controlling me in my own life. He wanted to make me mad at Big Brother and rise up to do something to change it. It all clicked, and suddenly, all of literature made sense to me in a way it never had before. Good books make you feel. They move you, they disturb you, they make you grateful for the people around you, and help you see things from a different perspective.

You don’t hear of a lot of book-banning these days (other than the occasional group of parents at some small school.) But what I love about banned book week is celebrating the diversity in literature. Most of these books have been banned for sexual or political content and I think that’s exactly why people should read them. To see the world from a perspective that is completely different than your own. So go ahead, pick up a banned book. Here are my recommendations:

• 1984
• The Perks of Being a Wallflower--nice and short and teenage-angsty
• Of Mice and Men--also short
• A Handmaiden’s Tale--very feministy
• Harry Potter--I'm sure you've read him unless you've lived under a rock for the last decade and a half, but I put him on every list of books I create, so...there's that.
• Or you could go crazy and track down an untained version of Huckleberry Finn simply becuase it's not socially acceptable.

I’m either picking up A Brave New World or Fahrenheit 451 because I'm a rebel like that.

Happy rebelling—I mean reading.

An open letter to the cute guy from Biology class forever ago.

Hi, cute guy from Biology class from forever ago.

Eww--no, not him.


To the actual person who was in a real biology class and who never looked constipated or like a serial killer like that:


Hi.

*laughs nervously, rubs palms on thighs, and licks lips.* 

I'm sure you don't remember me. We shared am 8am class at community college a million years ago. Okay--it was only a few years ago. I'm not THAT old. The class was Biology 110 if memory serves. You don't remember? Of course not--because you never looked at me twice. If you had, I would have probably sculpted my number for you out of frog entrails or from the cellular cross-sections of onion skins or something. To this day I don't understand why you didn't notice me...

But hey, this isn't about me nursing some weird stalker-wound. This is about you. Besides, I'm married now to a pretty incredible guy, so I'm good. I promise.

Anyways, I got an "A" in Biology 110 and from a place of reflection here in my adult life I want to say "thank you".

See, I was never the most dedicated student. I preferred cutting class to hang out with my friends, or sleep in, or take random road trips with my best friend to stay in the trailer of a strange man after I'd called in sick to work. (The trailer is a story for another time.) More than anything, I was a 20 year old female. I don't know why society asks young people to know what they want to do for the rest of their lives and commit tens of  thousands of their parents' dollars and the best party years of their lives to it. I was tanning lifeguarding for a living then for Pete's sake. I wasn't exactly the heart and soul of professional dedication.

The two things I was dedicated to were 1) cute guys and 2) getting their attention. There was very little I wasn't willing to do to obtain these things. And truthfully, the most enticing thing guys could do was ignore me.


So, thank you for being adorable. Thank you for being way more committed to Biology 110 than I was. Because of you, I sat in the back row of the lecture hall every Tuesday and Thursday morning, shoulders thrown back and head held high, ready for you to and sure that you would notice me. But you didn't. So eventually I got bored and took notes to pass the time. Because of you I can still tell you the difference between DNA and RNA, I vaguely remember the scientific method, and for some reason, the words "endoplasmic reticulum" mean something to me.


But more than anything, you ignored me even though I showed up every class, hoping that would be the day you noticed me. But you never did.


And weirdly, for that all these years later:

Thank you for the "A."

All best to you,
R

A Plea for Percy Jackson

Listen, I know the movie came out more than a year ago--which, if we're honest, is like two decades in pop-culture these days--but I have something to say about Percy Jackson.

Read the books. DON'T watch the movie.Hollywood representations of books are bad as a rule. But this one was actually abysmal. I did both and felt like the movie was unrecognizable as a representation of the book. Like, more than Hollywood usually messes books up. Which is saying something.

Anyways...as for the books:

The pacing is relentless, the characters are dynamic, and the mythology is everywhere. Really, I think I learned more about Greek mythology while reading these books than in my "History of Ancient Greece" class that I took in college. (Dad, not really, thanks for picking up the tab on that class, by the way. I learned a ton!)

Here are some useful interesting things I learned while reading the Percy Jackson series:

• Artemis, though completely kick-ass is a little full of herself--as she should be.
• Conversely, I think her brother got a bad rap and is the one god I would befriend without hesitation. And not just for his awesome sports car. Okay, partly for the car. But he's also snarky and funny.
• Hellhounds are actually rather cuddly and endearing.
• There is an entrance to Daedalaus' labyrinth so freakishly near my house that I'm tempted to go poke around on private property to find it.
• I'm even less into Titans than I was before. Especially Kronos.
• I want a Pegasus and not in the 6-year-old girl kind of way--they're WAY more convenient than driving like normal mortals do.
• I'm pretty sure I know an Empusa. She's my husband's ex-girlfriend.

See! There are all sorts of useful interesting things to be learned by this series. I read each of them in no more than three sittings, so you can't tell me that they're too much of a time commitment.

Besides, if you have any Empusa in your life, you should at least be able to recognize them for what they are...

And if that's not enough for you, Percy is one of the most adorable heros...well, ever. See? Maybe the movie wasn't a complete waste...at least we have Logan Lerman in all his resplendent cuteness.

Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children

This cover is SICK. I don't mean that in the I'm-trying-to-be-cool-so-any-outdated-saying-will-do kind of way. I mean that in the most honest no-really-I-want-to-high-five-the-cover-designer kind of way.

Granted, I'm always a fan of creepy. Not blood-and-guts-horror-movie kind of creepy, but slight-shivers-down-your-spine kind of creepy is my favorite.

(For the less observant kids in the class, she's hovering above the ground.


Okay, now that we're all on the same page...)

I purchased this book...In hardcover...Before the release date--not a typical tendency for me.

That's how confident I was in this book. Really, I had decided to purchase it before I even read the synopsis, but having an "elevator pitch" to justify the expense to my husband was helpful. So, when it arrived, I tore into the packaging and cracked the cover with high hopes.

There were monsters, time travel, and an island in Wales, what could go wrong?

Apparently more than I expected.

It started strong. Don't get the wrong impression about this. The first third of the book was absolute magic. The combination of vintage photography and narrative was completely compelling and fresh. It's been a while since I read a book with pictures in it, so it really brought me back to my childhood. I found myself flipping forward to the photographs as a way to shape my imagination as I read the scene; a bad habit from childhood that, apparently, I have never grown out of since I hate imagining things "incorrectly".

It wasn't until the main character's second or third visit to Miss Peregrine's school that I actually started to worry. The pacing wasn't picking up. The romance was, in turns, forced and a bit disturbing. The mythology seemed a little thin. There was a richness of storytelling that I kept searching for, that seemed to get lost in the sensationalism of the story. All Great-and-Powerful-Oz with nothing compelling to say.

The characterization of the secondary characters bothered me too. I felt as though they were nothing more than photos with captions that the author waved in my face to distract from the thin plot-line. Hear me: Jacob, the main character, was sympathetic. He was a great blend of heroic, frightened, and brash. I truly do think he was well developed. I'm just typically a sucker for secondary characters, and there wasn't one that appealed to me.

Also, I was disappointed in the obvious plot. I like this book--you guys know my rule about only spoiling books that aren't worth your time--so I won't give anything away, but a major plot twist was easily discernible at least a hundred pages before it happened. In fact, I would use the words painfully obvious.

But here's the truth: the strong points of this book were incredibly strong. The setting was fabulous. The monsters were sufficiently scary. The main character was very relatable.

I think I would have made the main character a little bit younger if I were the powers-that-be. I felt like his struggles weren't the coming-of-age tensions that come with being 16. When I think of that age-range their issues are things like sexuality, morality, and his self-worth in relationship to his friends (think Perks of Being A Wallflower). Jacob's struggles were a bit more middle-grade fantasy. Who am I in relationship with my family? who are these scary monsters chasing me? and holy crap, I didn't realize that the world is bigger than my little town! were things that he struggled with. The narrative would have been smoother for me if Jacob had just celebrated his 13th birthday instead of his 16th.

Also, I don't think it's ever appropriate to kiss a girl that's been hung up on your grandfather for decades.

Maybe that's just me and I'm weirdly prudish about things like that.

I won't go into detail, but the romance wasn't...romantic. I felt like it was a plot device instead of an exploration of two characters who didn't belong together. It was odd; the love interest was into him almost immediately, and her affection didn't waver throughout the book. I wanted her to hate him, kiss someone else, smack him, something, but she never did.

And her "peculiarity" could have been really cool but it wasn't used enough. I think she only used her power as a weapon, like, once. I'd be all over that power if it was mine. ***SPOILER she can create a fireball in between her palms. Imagine the villagers that could be terrorized! END SPOILER***

Final judgement: It's a good book just wait to purchase it until it comes out in paperback. Notice, I do think it is worth buying. I really did love like it. It really is worth the read. I just wish I could have tweaked a few things.

The Tiger's Wife

I had really high hopes for this book. 1: The cover art. Sure, you're not supposed to judge a book by one, but really, how are you supposed to be attracted to it in the first place? Let's be honest, I didn't go on a first date with my husband because he's a great guy. I mean that's why I made a lifelong commitment to him and took his last name but that wasn't the first thing on my mind when we started dating. He's hot. And so is the cover of The Tiger's Wife. In a completely different way, of course. Maybe it's more pretty than hot.

Whatever. I liked the cover.

2: I was impressed that this young author (she's like 25 or something) wrote something that is so critically acclaimed. That's the kind of young that makes me look at my life and say with tones of disdain: "What have I contributed to society?" But my own self-loathing is an entirely different issue.

3. One of the characters in the story is called "The Deathless Man". I'm always intrigued by immortality. Especially in the context of an otherwise non-fantastical story.

The writing was undeniably beautiful. I came into the house after reading in the backyard for about thirty minutes, and reported to my husband that the glow on my face wasn't just from the late-afternoon sunshine, but also because I thought I might be in love with the book. The idea of a granddaughter searching for the mysterious circumstances surrounding her grandfather's death was something I found incredibly alluring.

I'm glad the book and I didn't run off to Vegas, though. After about 70 pages, I felt myself a little disillusioned and kind of like I was on a date with someone who didn't have a lot of depth, but sure had a lot to say.

I went out on a date like that once. It was three hours at a Starbucks. And he talked about everything from his time in the military to his aunt's rice pilaf. I, on the other hand, spent most of the date nodding and trying to look politely interested. I don't think he asked me more than two questions about myself in three hours.

I'm sure you will be surprised to hear that there was no second date.

Politely interested is how I felt by page 100 but I kept turning pages, reasoning that all the hype had to be about something, right?

The pacing quickly felt something like running in place because there was more back story than forward motion. I liked the main character's grandfather and I was still intrigued by the Deathless Man (who would run into the grandfather at the most interesting times), so I found myself actually intrigued by the history.

Unfortunately, however, the ending left me more than a little flat. In fact, I felt cheated.

***Spoiler Alert***
It seems as though her grandfather died without purpose, and the Deathless Man had no apparent contact with her grandfather in his final hours as the buildup of the story would allow you to believe. I kept reading thinking that she would find out that the Deathless Man had been grooming her grandfather to be his successor or something. That when she finally chased down the Deathless Man, she would find her grandfather in his place. Not so much.

Instead, once she finally chases after "the deathless man", she finds Babra Ivan who is keeping up the charade for the sake of their small town. This is fine, except for the fact that there is absolutely no connection to the grandfather's death. No resolution. So the entire book was simply a young woman's rambling memories as she tries to come to terms with the death of her grandfather? For as rambling as it was...that idea wasn't strong enough for me.

Also the whole thing with the Tiger's Wife was incredibly disappointing because there was no resolution. And creepy. And weird. And unfulfilling. And pointless.
***End Spoiler***

Really, the narrative ended poorly. Maybe I invested in the wrong characters. Maybe it was the wrong storyline that I cared about. Or, what I think is more likely, is that the acclaim is deserved if you are not looking for compelling storytelling but words that are strung together beautifully.

Jane Eyre

I'm usually not a huge book-to-movie fan. Not saying I won't go to the movie, but I always walk out muttering something like, "the book was better" under my breath and secretly judging the undereducated plebeians leaving the theater with smiles of shallow satisfaction smeared across their faces. Mr. Awesome gets so mad at me for this. He's not a reader and the poor man just wants to watch a movie in peace once in a while. I tell him he married the wrong person.

I've been known to compare the Harry Potter movies to Totino's pizza rolls to anyone that says "Oh, yeah I know Harry Potter, I saw the fourth movie once because my sister dragged me. It's cool, whatever." "But Totino's have no comparison to deep dish Chicago style pizza!" I try not to scream as I respond to them, "And that's what the books are like! Similar elements, same name, but they can't actually be compared."

Yeah, people love it when I do that. It's especially appreciated if they haven't read the book.

Seriously, after writing that all out for you, I don't know why I have friends any at all.

But this time, I can't say that I hated this interpretation of the book. In fact, really loved the new version of Jane Eyre. Certainly, there were parts of the narrative that didn't quite translate to film, and it was a bit melodramatic in places, but I actually liked that. I can't believe I'm saying this, but it really captured the "essence" of the book.

Now, let me be clear, I'm no Jane Eyre connoisseur. Let's be honest, I'm normally not as invested in romances as epic fantasies, so I can't be considered an authority. But I have read the book twice and enjoyed it very much--both times--so I can appreciate the movie. Okay? Okay.

Casting, costuming, writing--it was all good. Mia Wasikowska was incredibly transparent as Jane. Very noteworthy. But the highlight for me was the overall artistic integrity of the movie: the dark halls of Thornfield were sufficiently creepy, the stark moors of the countryside were deliciously blustery, and the distant Rochester of my adolescent dreams was satisfactorily tempestuous.

Overall, the film was wonderfully gothic. Maybe this is why I used to have fantasies of loosing myself to the moors whenever I felt bereft as a young adult. There is something incredibly romantic about that era, and this film really captured that. It is highly recommended.

A little brilliant something

Ask anyone that's tried writing a story, it's intimidating. Thank you, interwebs for this brilliant Periodic Table of a Story. Some of my personal favorites are: Dlp, Aod, Chi, and Lah (Literary Agent Hypothesis--I don't know what that means, but I like it.)

*chuckles*

Original link: http://computersherpa.deviantart.com/art/Periodic-Table-of-Storytelling-203548951

I particularly like the equation for Star Wars in the lower lefthand corner of the post. Genius.