So okay, the main focus of this picture is the man throwing his little girl into the air and catching her? That's great! And there's Aunt Agnes in the background eating a piece of pie and the park bench she's sitting on is green and a squirrel is a few feet away hoping to scrounge food...
And a whole bunch of other unnecessary details. Can the picture describe what is going on in the man's mind? The little girl's? Can it describe her laughter so vividly it feels like you can hear it? Will it let you know that mommy's just out of the frame yelling for them to be careful?
Don't get me wrong, pictures are great for capturing familial moments, just not so great for telling stories.
Words allow for details that aren't necessarily seen, and they allow the author to tell only the things that are pertinent or even hide details they don't want to reveal yet.
I felt like the drawings in the graphic novel took away from Poe's works. He was a master at playing with words and didn't need illustrations to create pictures in our minds. If anything I feel like the drawings set limitations on what images his descriptive talents could pull out of our minds.
For me, Poe's description of the eye in the Tell-tale Heart was extremely vivid. It was downright creepy. The black and white graphic adaptation failed to stick with me like the haunting words did when I read the original.
And I swear the same guy must have illustrated "The Raven" and "The Fall of the House of Usher" because in neither one can I tell what in the hell is going on. I mean, cool, he can create pictures in blocky black and white. How about some detail?
And I'm sorry, but I don't even think that "The Pit and the Pendulum" should count as an adaptation. Not even the same story, really. Changing all the important details but keeping the general idea doesn't count as an adaptation. It counts as a different story with a somewhat similar message.
All in all, I was fairly disappointed. I say instead of reading these dull graphic adaptations that on Friday everyone should pick their favorite Poe poem and have a round of recitations. I wonder how many people would bring "The Raven" or "The Bells"? ;D
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
The Road (to nowhere)
When Lisa said that this novel had been compared to The Odyssey, I didn't see it and I still don't. Odysseus had a definite destination in his travels and knew exactly what was waiting for him when he got there. The idea I got from the Man was basically, "Well, we can't stay here. Let's go this way."
That being said, I don't really consider this as a journey. A journey has a definite destination, whether physical, emotional, or spiritual. There is an eventual end and it is plausible that one will be able to reach that end.
In The Road it seemed that they might be looking a 'a better place'. I'm sorry hon, this is the apocalypse, this is the world that you live in, there is no better place. I'm sure that the Man knew this too. I feel like he wanted to give the boy something the look forward to. After all, "livin's better than dyin'". Or so they say.
I'm glad at the end the Boy is picked up by a family. The thing is that it's not like it's going to get any better. The plants are dead. The animals are dead. The sun is dying. Hope just blinds them from the harsh reality.
This book was depressing and not really that compelling for me. Am I glad I read it? Sure. Will I ever read it again? No. And for me, that says everything.
(Now, I know that "livin's better than dyin'" is a quote from somewhere and for the life of me I can't figure it out. It's really frustrating, because I know that I know where it's from and I feel like it should be really obvious. If anyone who reads this recognizes it, please enlighten me so I can hit myself up the head with an "Oh my god. Duh.")
That being said, I don't really consider this as a journey. A journey has a definite destination, whether physical, emotional, or spiritual. There is an eventual end and it is plausible that one will be able to reach that end.
In The Road it seemed that they might be looking a 'a better place'. I'm sorry hon, this is the apocalypse, this is the world that you live in, there is no better place. I'm sure that the Man knew this too. I feel like he wanted to give the boy something the look forward to. After all, "livin's better than dyin'". Or so they say.
I'm glad at the end the Boy is picked up by a family. The thing is that it's not like it's going to get any better. The plants are dead. The animals are dead. The sun is dying. Hope just blinds them from the harsh reality.
This book was depressing and not really that compelling for me. Am I glad I read it? Sure. Will I ever read it again? No. And for me, that says everything.
(Now, I know that "livin's better than dyin'" is a quote from somewhere and for the life of me I can't figure it out. It's really frustrating, because I know that I know where it's from and I feel like it should be really obvious. If anyone who reads this recognizes it, please enlighten me so I can hit myself up the head with an "Oh my god. Duh.")
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
and through your own split head you rise up glowing;
Yvette Nichol.
Oh, dear.
I can't stand her.
It's like Armand Gamache has taken my four-year-old sibling on a murder investigation. Me, me, me. Where's my recognition. Why can't I do what I want. Oh-- wait! I made a mistake? Well, you can't blame me, I'm only a trainee.
Beauvior has a right to hate her. Someone this self centered should never have entered law enforcement, which is entirely about other people. Sometimes it's about helping other people, other times reading other people. But of course Nichol can't do either, she's still trying to grasp the idea that there are other people.
And they keep messing up her agenda to be the best and most renowned detective that was ever known. It's so unfair.
On the other hand, we have Gamache who practically is other people. He is watching their faces, sensing their intents, perceiving actions before the person them self is sure what they are doing. He is the ultimate detective because he is the ultimate watcher and listener.
All he wants to do is solve the crime-- with the help of his team of course. This is a man who recognizes the true important things in life. He touches other people, reaches out and stirs their emotions. He makes connections, forms relationships, and honestly, truly, surprisingly, cares.
When he needs them, these people will be there for him. They will be his friends. They will entrust him with secrets. They will unknowingly reveal important details to his intent listening. They will help him to solve a crime. After all, most premeditated crimes are committed by someone close to the victim.
Gamache has recruited a small army of people at his back, supplying him with information and support he needs. Nichol only has her own narrow viewpoint, and her lonely super-woman (scoff) self to rely on.
Oh, dear.
I can't stand her.
It's like Armand Gamache has taken my four-year-old sibling on a murder investigation. Me, me, me. Where's my recognition. Why can't I do what I want. Oh-- wait! I made a mistake? Well, you can't blame me, I'm only a trainee.
Beauvior has a right to hate her. Someone this self centered should never have entered law enforcement, which is entirely about other people. Sometimes it's about helping other people, other times reading other people. But of course Nichol can't do either, she's still trying to grasp the idea that there are other people.
And they keep messing up her agenda to be the best and most renowned detective that was ever known. It's so unfair.
On the other hand, we have Gamache who practically is other people. He is watching their faces, sensing their intents, perceiving actions before the person them self is sure what they are doing. He is the ultimate detective because he is the ultimate watcher and listener.
All he wants to do is solve the crime-- with the help of his team of course. This is a man who recognizes the true important things in life. He touches other people, reaches out and stirs their emotions. He makes connections, forms relationships, and honestly, truly, surprisingly, cares.
When he needs them, these people will be there for him. They will be his friends. They will entrust him with secrets. They will unknowingly reveal important details to his intent listening. They will help him to solve a crime. After all, most premeditated crimes are committed by someone close to the victim.
Gamache has recruited a small army of people at his back, supplying him with information and support he needs. Nichol only has her own narrow viewpoint, and her lonely super-woman (scoff) self to rely on.
Look how far we've come.
I don't need a bonus blog post; I haven't missed a blog yet. I crave one. To read and discuss literature, my passion, is all I need out of life.
Contemporary literature. What is there to say? What do I expect? Nothing I suppose. I read to satisfy a craving, fill a void-- not because I have expectations. I either like a book, or I don't. There is no set criteria. I am not choosing actors to fill a specific role, I am simply filling it with whatever I can get my hands on and either entering another world euphorically or tossing the current travesty away with disgust.
But enough about me. It's not what I expect from modern literature that matters (even I am not that egotistical), it's what modern literature needs to be.
Once upon a time books were only read by the highly educated-- people who understood art. Today, everyone reads. And I can't believe some of the people that try to claim that they like reading. Half of them wouldn't know a good book if it bit them in the ass. Instead, they read Soap Operas that are written down instead of being acted out on the television.
However, that is not my point, so I'll save that tangent for a another day.
My point is that everyone reads. The populace of America is "educated". (And what a low-brow, narrow, boorish education it is. Once again I am being distracted.) I mean to say, that in a society where everyone reads, truly great books must appeal to everyone.
"How," you ask, "How is this possible?"
Well, for most authors it isn't.
But- a truly good author can create a writing style and plot that seems quick and interesting enough for the people in it for the (as Lisa put it) "brain candy", yet include hidden themes and depth that will appeal to those of us that occasional seek something with a little more sustenance.
This, I suppose is not what I necessarily expect, but what is needed from contemporary authors. They must multitask and appeal to as many audiences as possible.
Don't ask me what I expect. Even though I said I wasn't picky before (I'll try anything once), if I had my way, everyone would write in prose and focus on abstracts and personal relations and character development. I'm not sure if the contemporary audience would appreciate that.
Contemporary literature. What is there to say? What do I expect? Nothing I suppose. I read to satisfy a craving, fill a void-- not because I have expectations. I either like a book, or I don't. There is no set criteria. I am not choosing actors to fill a specific role, I am simply filling it with whatever I can get my hands on and either entering another world euphorically or tossing the current travesty away with disgust.
But enough about me. It's not what I expect from modern literature that matters (even I am not that egotistical), it's what modern literature needs to be.
Once upon a time books were only read by the highly educated-- people who understood art. Today, everyone reads. And I can't believe some of the people that try to claim that they like reading. Half of them wouldn't know a good book if it bit them in the ass. Instead, they read Soap Operas that are written down instead of being acted out on the television.
However, that is not my point, so I'll save that tangent for a another day.
My point is that everyone reads. The populace of America is "educated". (And what a low-brow, narrow, boorish education it is. Once again I am being distracted.) I mean to say, that in a society where everyone reads, truly great books must appeal to everyone.
"How," you ask, "How is this possible?"
Well, for most authors it isn't.
But- a truly good author can create a writing style and plot that seems quick and interesting enough for the people in it for the (as Lisa put it) "brain candy", yet include hidden themes and depth that will appeal to those of us that occasional seek something with a little more sustenance.
This, I suppose is not what I necessarily expect, but what is needed from contemporary authors. They must multitask and appeal to as many audiences as possible.
Don't ask me what I expect. Even though I said I wasn't picky before (I'll try anything once), if I had my way, everyone would write in prose and focus on abstracts and personal relations and character development. I'm not sure if the contemporary audience would appreciate that.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
We go together like a horse and carriage
To switch things up a bit, I'm actually going to be comparing "A Temporary Matter" and "The Third and Final Continent". The differing dynamics of these two marriages intrigue me. One for love and fallen apart, the other arranged and standing strong.
One just has to look at it and ask "Why?"
Shoba and Shukumar were obviously very much in love at one time. They were Americans with Indian heritage and lived by American ideals-- for all that they ate Indian food. And when their marriage hit a rough part it fell apart, like so many American marriages.
On the other hand, the man from "The Third and Final Continent" and his wife, Mala, had an arranged marriage. One doesn't find out what trials and tribulations they went through as a couple (there always are some), but we do find out that they live a happy life together as close a couple can be.
Now what is the difference here?
I think it is a sense of duty.
Americans are raised to do what they want when they want. We have freedom, dammnit! Whereas, India's culture focuses much more on a sense of duty. You have a duty to your community, your parents, your siblings, your spouse, and your children.
I'm not saying that women should always stay at home and cook, while men should always be the providers. I'm just saying that you should look at this example of sharing responsibilities and refusing to give up because you can't as something that makes a successful marriage. More often than not, it is a sense of responsibility that keeps a marriage together, passion is a bonus.
Shoba and Shukumar both chose to ignore their responsibilities and look at what happened to them. The couple together out of obligation turned out much better.
This is why I did not mind seeing the women "objectified", as people put it, because though the women had a duty her husband, he also had a duty to her. To me, that the most important point. Any two fools can fall in love, but couples often fail when it comes to actually making things work.
One just has to look at it and ask "Why?"
Shoba and Shukumar were obviously very much in love at one time. They were Americans with Indian heritage and lived by American ideals-- for all that they ate Indian food. And when their marriage hit a rough part it fell apart, like so many American marriages.
On the other hand, the man from "The Third and Final Continent" and his wife, Mala, had an arranged marriage. One doesn't find out what trials and tribulations they went through as a couple (there always are some), but we do find out that they live a happy life together as close a couple can be.
Now what is the difference here?
I think it is a sense of duty.
Americans are raised to do what they want when they want. We have freedom, dammnit! Whereas, India's culture focuses much more on a sense of duty. You have a duty to your community, your parents, your siblings, your spouse, and your children.
I'm not saying that women should always stay at home and cook, while men should always be the providers. I'm just saying that you should look at this example of sharing responsibilities and refusing to give up because you can't as something that makes a successful marriage. More often than not, it is a sense of responsibility that keeps a marriage together, passion is a bonus.
Shoba and Shukumar both chose to ignore their responsibilities and look at what happened to them. The couple together out of obligation turned out much better.
This is why I did not mind seeing the women "objectified", as people put it, because though the women had a duty her husband, he also had a duty to her. To me, that the most important point. Any two fools can fall in love, but couples often fail when it comes to actually making things work.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Now that you've lost my attention...
Okay, I'll admit it. Travelling around Ireland with a fridge-- a grand idea! I agree with the idea of the 'spirit of fun' and so on. I started reading Round Ireland with a Fridge expecting to be amused, enthralled, and filled with warm bubblies.
The author then proceeded to promptly lose my interest.
Tony Hawks is a dirty rotten rambler whose writing is as dry as stale toast-- and not in the amusing 'I'm snarkily British way'. His writing reminds me of the movie "Ferris Bueller's Day Off". You know that teacher? The one that says "Buelller" repeatedly? Yeah. That bad.
For the people who say that he writes this way because he's British: I like British humor. My favorite author is British, he writes hilarious, satirical, fantasy books. (Terry Pratchett. If you haven't read any of his books, do it. It's a life changing experience.)
The most disappointing part of it all, is that he's telling a genuinely interesting story. It's about fun and laughter and people helping each other and a country coming together to help this crazy bloke with a fridge. This book could be about all of the best qualities of humanity.
Another thing that disappoints me: I feel like Tony is trying to prove to us that he's funny. It's almost like the reason he's unfunny is because he's beating us over the head with dry humor, "Look at me! I'm funny!" It doesn't really work, dry humor should be more subtle. If he wanted to be out there he should have gone for more over-the-top humor, which is another thing Brits are good at. I feel like all his jokes are meant to be some kind of cheesy advertisement, trying to entice us to look him up, buy his CDs, and go to his shows.
Not bloody likely.
I feel like a truly amazing story has been turned into a poor attempt at shameless self promotion by a mediocre comedian.
The author then proceeded to promptly lose my interest.
Tony Hawks is a dirty rotten rambler whose writing is as dry as stale toast-- and not in the amusing 'I'm snarkily British way'. His writing reminds me of the movie "Ferris Bueller's Day Off". You know that teacher? The one that says "Buelller" repeatedly? Yeah. That bad.
For the people who say that he writes this way because he's British: I like British humor. My favorite author is British, he writes hilarious, satirical, fantasy books. (Terry Pratchett. If you haven't read any of his books, do it. It's a life changing experience.)
The most disappointing part of it all, is that he's telling a genuinely interesting story. It's about fun and laughter and people helping each other and a country coming together to help this crazy bloke with a fridge. This book could be about all of the best qualities of humanity.
Another thing that disappoints me: I feel like Tony is trying to prove to us that he's funny. It's almost like the reason he's unfunny is because he's beating us over the head with dry humor, "Look at me! I'm funny!" It doesn't really work, dry humor should be more subtle. If he wanted to be out there he should have gone for more over-the-top humor, which is another thing Brits are good at. I feel like all his jokes are meant to be some kind of cheesy advertisement, trying to entice us to look him up, buy his CDs, and go to his shows.
Not bloody likely.
I feel like a truly amazing story has been turned into a poor attempt at shameless self promotion by a mediocre comedian.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
I want to be the Emerson Spartz of My Sister's Keeper: Kate and Anna should have died.
Though I would like to clarify that I have no desire to create a highly popular and well-known fansite for this book. Just write Kate and Anna Should Have Died, even though it probably wouldn't sell well. My Sister's Keeper isn't a franchise.
But, in all seriousness, Kate and Anna should have died. If Picoult wanted to hammer home the unfariness of Anna's death and the irony of her organs being used, why would she keep Kate alive?
It would have shown the unfairness so much more if Kate had died too.
Also, the book would have been much, much less ridiculously sappy. I mean good god, could Picoult have possibly catered to suburban housewife book clubs any more? Her movel lost it's sense of the profound, and to me, took on a sense of the ridiculous.
It could have made me cry. That's a hard thing to do. You have to make me like the characters, write well, and keep it believable. Kate's survival was just too pat, it was too impossibly perfect: Her sister made the ultimate sacrifice, and gave up her life, and now Kate gets to live because everyone knows getting a kidney transplant will put your cancer into remission!
I know cancer can randomly go into remission, but not like that. Not when you are stuggling to live, going through a surgery no one thinks you can survive, and getting a kidney that your failing body will probably reject.
In real life, people don't get miracles like that!
Thus, with the survival of Kate, the novel went from a semblance of reality to the absurd and Picoult lost all my sympathy.
Way to ruin a novel.
But, in all seriousness, Kate and Anna should have died. If Picoult wanted to hammer home the unfariness of Anna's death and the irony of her organs being used, why would she keep Kate alive?
It would have shown the unfairness so much more if Kate had died too.
Also, the book would have been much, much less ridiculously sappy. I mean good god, could Picoult have possibly catered to suburban housewife book clubs any more? Her movel lost it's sense of the profound, and to me, took on a sense of the ridiculous.
It could have made me cry. That's a hard thing to do. You have to make me like the characters, write well, and keep it believable. Kate's survival was just too pat, it was too impossibly perfect: Her sister made the ultimate sacrifice, and gave up her life, and now Kate gets to live because everyone knows getting a kidney transplant will put your cancer into remission!
I know cancer can randomly go into remission, but not like that. Not when you are stuggling to live, going through a surgery no one thinks you can survive, and getting a kidney that your failing body will probably reject.
In real life, people don't get miracles like that!
Thus, with the survival of Kate, the novel went from a semblance of reality to the absurd and Picoult lost all my sympathy.
Way to ruin a novel.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
My Sister's Keeper
I missed class today due to exhaustion from being kept up half the night by the idiots living next door; however, I will do the best I can.
My Sister's Keeper is quite the compelling read, a real page turner. Personally, I could not put it own until I found out what happened in the end. The characters are so vibrantly alive, and their situation is unique, but based on some reality.
Campbell Alexander is an intriguing persona and my favorite. He is a seemingly strong man, hiding all these little flaws and weaknesses that make up his ambiguous personality. He is both selfish and generous, and at times he damns himself for his lawyer ethics.
And shockingly, Campbell--the lawyer-- seems to be the only character in this story that has his head on straight and is not running in endless circles of morality. While everyone else is asking themselves repeatedly what is the right thing, he knows. Anna should have the choice.
It's not saying that she will or won't donate the kidney-- just that in the end it's Anna's decsion. Everyone is acting like she is condemning her sister to death but no one sees the real issue: the sanctity of being able to own one's body.
You know, if I was in Anna's position I'd do the same thing.
My Sister's Keeper is quite the compelling read, a real page turner. Personally, I could not put it own until I found out what happened in the end. The characters are so vibrantly alive, and their situation is unique, but based on some reality.
Campbell Alexander is an intriguing persona and my favorite. He is a seemingly strong man, hiding all these little flaws and weaknesses that make up his ambiguous personality. He is both selfish and generous, and at times he damns himself for his lawyer ethics.
And shockingly, Campbell--the lawyer-- seems to be the only character in this story that has his head on straight and is not running in endless circles of morality. While everyone else is asking themselves repeatedly what is the right thing, he knows. Anna should have the choice.
It's not saying that she will or won't donate the kidney-- just that in the end it's Anna's decsion. Everyone is acting like she is condemning her sister to death but no one sees the real issue: the sanctity of being able to own one's body.
You know, if I was in Anna's position I'd do the same thing.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Loving books?
Here is my post, a day late and a dollar short. My only defense is that last night I was slightly delirious and grouchy from an over abundance of napping, so my post would have been crap anyways. But anyways, we all know what excuses are like so I'm not going to belabor explaining myself.
The last novel we read had a theme that is central to my life, a love of books. However, it was astounding and slightly offensive to me that they weren't talking about the literature. The corporeal body of a book is a beautiful thing. It takes on it's own traits, it own smell, it holds memories for those who read them, but books are really about the literature!
A good book is like a waking dream you can relive over and over. It takes you and allows you to be someone else, or teaches you a moral, or relates with your inner being like no other human ever has!
One may pick up a specific book and look at it and say: "I read this when I was seven years old. I adored it because I felt like no one loved me, just like Mandy." or "Look at those ruined pages. I dropped this book in the bathtub when I used to spend hours in the bathroom reading."
A true lover of books, doesn't want them because they're rare, or they think they lend a feel of affluence. No, someone who loves books, loves them for the way they come into your life, and touch your mind in their own unique ways. They love them for the snapshot of time a book is, both in its story and in the way it says something about the past you.
Mostly, I was bothered by the title of this excerpt. Gilkey didn't really love books at all. If he did, he would be stealing them for the sake of reading them, not to abandon the poor things on a shelf to 'look good'.
The last novel we read had a theme that is central to my life, a love of books. However, it was astounding and slightly offensive to me that they weren't talking about the literature. The corporeal body of a book is a beautiful thing. It takes on it's own traits, it own smell, it holds memories for those who read them, but books are really about the literature!
A good book is like a waking dream you can relive over and over. It takes you and allows you to be someone else, or teaches you a moral, or relates with your inner being like no other human ever has!
One may pick up a specific book and look at it and say: "I read this when I was seven years old. I adored it because I felt like no one loved me, just like Mandy." or "Look at those ruined pages. I dropped this book in the bathtub when I used to spend hours in the bathroom reading."
A true lover of books, doesn't want them because they're rare, or they think they lend a feel of affluence. No, someone who loves books, loves them for the way they come into your life, and touch your mind in their own unique ways. They love them for the snapshot of time a book is, both in its story and in the way it says something about the past you.
Mostly, I was bothered by the title of this excerpt. Gilkey didn't really love books at all. If he did, he would be stealing them for the sake of reading them, not to abandon the poor things on a shelf to 'look good'.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
A Letter to Charlie
I'm afraid I used up all my genius on the discussion blog, so here's what's left over. :)
Dear Charlie,
You are one amazingly perceptive young man! I'm glad that you could end the cycle of hate and blame-- at least on your part. Hating someone just gives them power over you and your future, and I wouldn't want anything to mar the bright future a young man like you has in front of them.
It's right to still love your Aunt Helen for giving you two presents. She wasn't necessarily a bad person. She was probably just very confused and messed up in herself. Even though she hurt you, she probably loved you very much. Sometimes people don't understand the things they do.
My own step-father did many bad things to me when I was a little girl. In his own way he loved me, and I don't hate him. Hating him would be a waste of my time and just prolong the "cycle". Plus, I'm thankful to him too. In the same way that you're thankful to your Aunt Helen for saying she loved you and buying you two presents. He taught me how to fish, how to ride a bike, and made me into a kick-ass Rummy player.
Sometimes people can't help how messed up they are.
But me and you, Charlie, we're going places. You can't let the past weigh you down. I know you won't, and neither will I.
Have a great life.
Love always,
A Friend.
Dear Charlie,
You are one amazingly perceptive young man! I'm glad that you could end the cycle of hate and blame-- at least on your part. Hating someone just gives them power over you and your future, and I wouldn't want anything to mar the bright future a young man like you has in front of them.
It's right to still love your Aunt Helen for giving you two presents. She wasn't necessarily a bad person. She was probably just very confused and messed up in herself. Even though she hurt you, she probably loved you very much. Sometimes people don't understand the things they do.
My own step-father did many bad things to me when I was a little girl. In his own way he loved me, and I don't hate him. Hating him would be a waste of my time and just prolong the "cycle". Plus, I'm thankful to him too. In the same way that you're thankful to your Aunt Helen for saying she loved you and buying you two presents. He taught me how to fish, how to ride a bike, and made me into a kick-ass Rummy player.
Sometimes people can't help how messed up they are.
But me and you, Charlie, we're going places. You can't let the past weigh you down. I know you won't, and neither will I.
Have a great life.
Love always,
A Friend.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Group Discussion
Throughout this entire novel, there are dreams. Dreams of the future, a better one, a worse one. Charlie is the one dreaming all of these dreams, but they don't apply to him.
- Page 12, 4th paragraph- Charlie sees his sisters future with her useless boyfriend.
- Page 51, 4th paragraph- Charlie wants his brother's college experience to contain cocoa, rain, and unconventional beauty.
- Page 87, 5th paragraph- Charlie discusses whether or not his cousin has a "chance" in life.
- Page 92, 3rd paragraoh- Charlie talks about what his Aunt Helen's life might be like if she lived.
There are even more examples of Charlie dreaming for other people later in the novel. However, a far as his own future, I have only seen him mention it twice in the first two sections. On page 29 when he pretends to be a college student, but makes ridiculous and overexagerrated statements and on page 47 when he states he might want to be a writer that interviews other people about their lives.
Charlie never seems to mention in a serious manner what he wants for himself, for his own future. I want your opinions, do you think Charlie fears his future, doesn't see himself as having a future, or is just the ultimate wallflower--that lacks ambition for himself?
Do you guys have any answers for me? Also, do you think that this would be a good question to pose to the class, and if not what question do you think our group should ask?
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Super Man and the Bug-out
Spoiler Alert: If you haven't read "Super Man and the Bug-out" yet, you may not want to read this blog.
Before I started reading the stories in this book, I went through and read Cory Doctorow's commentary on them. I was highly intrigued by his description of a Jewish superman who believed in the Canadian values of "Peace, Order, and Good Government" rather than the flashy Super Man we all know, and possibly love.
I actually ended up reading this story before the ones we were required to read first, and I love it. A world where Super Man is useless because crime has been made obsolete, and he chooses to become an activist? Not only that, but he lets his overbearing Jewish earth mother guilt trip him about it. It makes a more human Super Man, something I appreciate in my heroes.
I also enjoyed seeing the bug-out up close in one of the stories for the first time. His interactions with "Supe" are genius and the political implications are astounding. Choosing to allow Hershie to speak at everyone of their war seminars effectively nullified the resistance in two ways that I could immediately see.
- Seeing their opinions on the feed will assure dissenters that they are being represented, and will lower the likelihood of protests being staged. This will lower the current uproar in society.
- Allowing Super Man to speak at the beginning will not actually achieve anything for "Supe"s cause. People will hear five minutes worth of reasoning on why war is bad, then they will hear hours worth of people refuting this opinion.
In the end, I felt more sorry for Super Man than you could possibly believe. Not only was he obsolete because of the lack of crime, but also by being given this glorious speaking job he was made useless to the resistance he believed in.
I much prefer Doctorow's take on Super Man to the original (it reminded me of Hancock with his flawed and jaded persona, but better because Hershie seemed like your fairly average Joe), and would like to read more stories about this Super Man that has normal problems along with his earthshaking ones. I feel like he is easier to relate to, and more a believable character.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Blog Post 3
During discussion, we all pretty much agreed that Olive’s hysterical talk with Christopher in the kitchen is pretty much the climax of the novel. I’m sad to say that this is my least favorite chapter in the book. I’ve never really cared for him, and my distaste just deepened.
I feel like he is victimizing himself, blaming his mother for his inability to get past his baggage. I’m sorry to say, having been abused as a child is an excuse, not a reason. I feel like Christopher probably hates his life with his stupid wife, bratty kids and filthy house. With Anne though, they can both blame their parents for their poor choices.
He brought his mother all the way from Maine just to indulge his feelings. Then he let her go out in an unfamiliar place, where an old, confused lady could definitely come to no good.
He’s SELFISH. Sometimes I hate my mother, and sometimes I don’t care, but I don’t use her and I would never leave her helpless. Hell, she’s screwed me over plenty of times, yet I still let her be on my cell phone plan so that she isn’t without a phone.
Still, it served a sort of purpose. It woke Olive up to herself a bit in the end; she realized a lot of her loneliness was a consequence of her own actions. Her rudeness and abrasiveness had caught up with her.
On the last page she showed amazing insight. If any part of this novel sticks with me, the last page will be it. Youth squanders love and age misses it.
My boyfriend treats me with more kindness, love and caring than anyone else ever has. I think I’ll try to be a bit kinder to him and be more appreciative of the things he does. After all, I can be harsh and abrasive; I don’t want to end up alone.
I feel like he is victimizing himself, blaming his mother for his inability to get past his baggage. I’m sorry to say, having been abused as a child is an excuse, not a reason. I feel like Christopher probably hates his life with his stupid wife, bratty kids and filthy house. With Anne though, they can both blame their parents for their poor choices.
He brought his mother all the way from Maine just to indulge his feelings. Then he let her go out in an unfamiliar place, where an old, confused lady could definitely come to no good.
He’s SELFISH. Sometimes I hate my mother, and sometimes I don’t care, but I don’t use her and I would never leave her helpless. Hell, she’s screwed me over plenty of times, yet I still let her be on my cell phone plan so that she isn’t without a phone.
Still, it served a sort of purpose. It woke Olive up to herself a bit in the end; she realized a lot of her loneliness was a consequence of her own actions. Her rudeness and abrasiveness had caught up with her.
On the last page she showed amazing insight. If any part of this novel sticks with me, the last page will be it. Youth squanders love and age misses it.
My boyfriend treats me with more kindness, love and caring than anyone else ever has. I think I’ll try to be a bit kinder to him and be more appreciative of the things he does. After all, I can be harsh and abrasive; I don’t want to end up alone.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Post 2
To me, the introduction of new characters in every chapter of Olive Kitteridge makes the story seem disjointed. I know the reappearance of Olive throughout the book is supposed to add a sense of continuity, even though Olive is often barely mentioned. Plus, I don’t think that Olive is a strong enough or interesting enough character to carry this plot-less book. I feel like I’m reading about my grandmother and the constant introduction of new characters just leaves me feeling frustrated and uninterested.
Really, Strout should have chosen several well developed characters and had the chapters differentiate between them, and showing interactions between a few characters. For example, along with Olive talking to Kevin in the car, maybe she could have shown us Kevin in middle school or Kevin’s mother dying; whereas, other characters—such as Angie—seemed superfluous and should have been cut out of the novel.
I feel like I’m drowning in a sea of random personalities as I read this novel and I really don’t like it.
As for the novel being depressing, that has no context in the defining of good literature and bad literature. 1984 was the most depressing and freakish book I have ever read, and I still liked it… even though I had the heebie-jeebies for weeks after finishing it! Many depressing books are truly excellent; however, this one is not. I think that the approach and style of Olive Kitteridge gets the point across but fails to pull me in as a reader—and actually has caused me to intensely dislike the novel.
Hopefully our next reading in this class will be much better—I’m looking forward to some good literature. I spend too much of my spare time reading airy fantasy novels below my level, and I need you to make me read something challenging, thought-provoking and excellent.
Really, Strout should have chosen several well developed characters and had the chapters differentiate between them, and showing interactions between a few characters. For example, along with Olive talking to Kevin in the car, maybe she could have shown us Kevin in middle school or Kevin’s mother dying; whereas, other characters—such as Angie—seemed superfluous and should have been cut out of the novel.
I feel like I’m drowning in a sea of random personalities as I read this novel and I really don’t like it.
As for the novel being depressing, that has no context in the defining of good literature and bad literature. 1984 was the most depressing and freakish book I have ever read, and I still liked it… even though I had the heebie-jeebies for weeks after finishing it! Many depressing books are truly excellent; however, this one is not. I think that the approach and style of Olive Kitteridge gets the point across but fails to pull me in as a reader—and actually has caused me to intensely dislike the novel.
Hopefully our next reading in this class will be much better—I’m looking forward to some good literature. I spend too much of my spare time reading airy fantasy novels below my level, and I need you to make me read something challenging, thought-provoking and excellent.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Blog Post 1
Reading is my life.
I know, it sounds laughable—both melodramatic and cliché; however, reading truly is my life.
It’s a pathetic –yet exciting—existence, exploring the wards of Greenlaw College with Faris Nallaneen, sobbing uncontrollably with Harry after his beloved godfather falls to his death, and catching criminals with Sam Vimes on the tough streets of Ankh-Morpork.
I own more books than most people read in their entire lives and I have read every single one, multiple times. I’ve even reread the ones I hated, like The Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison. It was both dry and dull, but words have power over me. Even dry and dull can pull me along to see if the next page will be an explosion of action or eloquence.
Words move people. The right speaker can set people on fire. Fewer people, however, are moved by the written word. I am one of those lucky people, and reading sets my world alight.
Corruption is rampant in law enforcement.
"The Taskmasters" really struck a chord with me on the topic of corruption in law enforcement. It really brought to mind a quote from a book I have read.
In Night Watch, by Terry Pratchett, a seasoned officer is discussing the morality taking bribes with a younger officer.
“Put it like this, Lance Constable, would you let a murderer off for a thousand dollars?”
“No, Sir!”
“A thousand dollars’d set your mum up in a nice place in a good part of town, though.”
“Knock it off, Sarge, I’m not like that.”
“You were when you took that dollar. Everything else is just haggling over the price.”
High level corruption like the situation in The Taskmasters is not a rampant problem in the U.S. police force, but I’d have to say that low level corruption is a problem. There are the neighborhood heroes of America, then there are the cops who speed ten over because they have the ‘high speed training’, or drive drunk on the back roads because they ‘know what they’re doing’. As the daughter of a police officer, I’ve seen petty corruptions in action.
To me, this story took a problem we have in America and exaggerated it, or ‘upped the price’. It begs the question: What draws the line between petty corruption and full scale murder and framing, like in the story? Morally, is there really a difference?
I know, it sounds laughable—both melodramatic and cliché; however, reading truly is my life.
It’s a pathetic –yet exciting—existence, exploring the wards of Greenlaw College with Faris Nallaneen, sobbing uncontrollably with Harry after his beloved godfather falls to his death, and catching criminals with Sam Vimes on the tough streets of Ankh-Morpork.
I own more books than most people read in their entire lives and I have read every single one, multiple times. I’ve even reread the ones I hated, like The Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison. It was both dry and dull, but words have power over me. Even dry and dull can pull me along to see if the next page will be an explosion of action or eloquence.
Words move people. The right speaker can set people on fire. Fewer people, however, are moved by the written word. I am one of those lucky people, and reading sets my world alight.
Corruption is rampant in law enforcement.
"The Taskmasters" really struck a chord with me on the topic of corruption in law enforcement. It really brought to mind a quote from a book I have read.
In Night Watch, by Terry Pratchett, a seasoned officer is discussing the morality taking bribes with a younger officer.
“Put it like this, Lance Constable, would you let a murderer off for a thousand dollars?”
“No, Sir!”
“A thousand dollars’d set your mum up in a nice place in a good part of town, though.”
“Knock it off, Sarge, I’m not like that.”
“You were when you took that dollar. Everything else is just haggling over the price.”
High level corruption like the situation in The Taskmasters is not a rampant problem in the U.S. police force, but I’d have to say that low level corruption is a problem. There are the neighborhood heroes of America, then there are the cops who speed ten over because they have the ‘high speed training’, or drive drunk on the back roads because they ‘know what they’re doing’. As the daughter of a police officer, I’ve seen petty corruptions in action.
To me, this story took a problem we have in America and exaggerated it, or ‘upped the price’. It begs the question: What draws the line between petty corruption and full scale murder and framing, like in the story? Morally, is there really a difference?
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