My Literary Love Life

I've Moved

2011-01-07T15:53:00.000-08:00

My Blogspot and I finally got tired of fighting with each other over formatting and font sizes and have decided to part ways. I can be found here now:

http://notablyindigo.tumblr.com/

I'm thinking about continuing to post book reviews here, but until I decide, see my Tumblr for updates (if you want to :P).

Book 18: Howl's Moving Castle

2010-12-19T17:08:00.000-08:00

Finals just ended, and as a reward for a full week's worth of focused studying I picked up Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones from the college library for a fun bit of reading. I read it years ago in high school after watching (and loving) the Hiyao Miyazaki film adaptation and wasn't terribly thrilled by the novel, but I was feeling optimistic after my final exams and decided to give the book a second chance.
I'm so glad I did!
I don't think I was reading diligently at all the first time around if I didn't like it then, beacuse I found it to be an absolute delight as I tore through it over the last couple of days. I love the whimsy of the concept and the wit of the characters. I often criticize Jones for employing a rather turbid writing style, but I found Howl's Moving Castle to have a clarity that that other books of hers seem to lack. You have to read the book with some care to really glean the motivations and emotions of the characters (they're all quite British even if the story takes place in an imaginary country, so of course they never quite say what they mean), but it's completely worth it.
Now, the plot!
The main character is a young lady named Sophie Hatter who has decided that she is destined for failure due to the fact that she is the eldest of three (think about it--what fairy tale have you ever heard of in which the eldest child is successful? It's always the youngest, of course). While her two sisters go off to seek their fortunes, she remains behind in her hometown, tending to the hat shop that her recently deceased father owned before he died. Sophie is all set to live a quiet, mouse-like existence until she finds herself in the line of fire of the evil Witch of the Waste, who curses her and turns her into an old lady. In order to break the spell, Sophie sets off to the roving castle of Wizard Howl to seek his help, and finds herself entangled in the affairs of his strange, enchanted household.

The film adaptation by the same name is actually one of my favorite movies ever, but I prefer the book, since the story is more complete and the characters are a good deal more compelling. Sophie and Howl in the book are a lot more fun than they are in the movie (they're just to darn nice in Miyazaki's version). They both have a lot more personality and engage in a lot of that witty, snarky banter that I just love. Still, the animation in the film is absolutely gorgeous, and the voice acting in both English and Japanese is brilliant (it doesn't hurt that Christian Bale plays Howl in the English dub. What a hottie!). In the end I've come to see the film and the novel as separate creative entities.
And they're both fabulous.

Anniversaries

2010-12-10T00:00:00.000-08:00

"By three methods we may learn wisdom: first, by reflection, which is noblest; second, by imitation, which is easiest; and third by experience, which is the bitterest." ~Confucius

I discovered this quote in late May of this year, in the epitaph of a book I was reading. Though the book itself ended up being no good, I found this saying of Confucius' to be pretty neat so I jotted it down on a piece of paper and tucked it away somewhere. I don't want to say that it "came in handy" this summer, but it definitely applied.

As of today it's been six months since the passing of my beloved Golden Retriever, Shadow.

He came into our home in April of 2000, a new presence in our lives during a time when we had just lost a close family friend and were facing the end of another's battle with cancer. My family had just moved to a new neighborhood forty miles away from our old neighborhood, and finally getting the dog my brother and I had been asking for (and which our previous house couldn't have accommodated) was our solace. The three of us--Shadow, my brother, and I--grew up together, and while he was theoretically our dog, Shadow took to our mom immediately. She became his Person, and he remained unyieldingly loyal to her for his entire life.

Shadow saw us through a lot of funny stories, like the time he literally ate my homework, or the time when he drank a pot of oil my mom had used to try dumplings and cheerfully wreaked havoc from both ends for a week. He absolutely loved fruit and was always sneaking into our neighbor's orchard for the apples and pears that fell from the trees in summertime. Going running with my dad thrilled him, even though he would get bored or tired quickly, and he was endlessly patient even when my brother and I went out of our way to annoy him.

When I went home for spring break in April, he was fine. And then he wasn't. He declined suddenly, within the span of less than a month, while I spending my summer working in an on-campus lab four hundred miles away from home. I wasn't there to watch him get sicker and sicker, but I heard about it from my parents. It started out as stiffness in his hind legs. A loss of appetite. Then a fever. And then the vet said cancer. We didn't want to do the scans or biopsies to confirm. What was the point? "He's too old," the vet told us, "to be a candidate for surgery." And we weren't about to put our ten-year-old dog--the equivalent to an eighty-year-old man--through chemotherapy.

I saw him twice before he died, on brief weekend visits, and flew home one last time to be with him in the vet's office when we had to let him go. It was quick, and I was holding him, and I felt it when his heart stopped beating and his pain finally ended. Two days later, I went back to campus and returned to work.

What followed was the worst summer of my life. I wasn't alone on campus, but I felt alone even when I was with my friends. I spent most of my time in my basement lab, where I was typically the only person working, and even when the other girls were there they didn't really talk to me. I've never felt more empty. My parents, troopers that they are, healed fast and by my next visit home they were fine even though I wasn't.

We're not so good at talking about grief. No one is. All we're ever taught to do is be strong and bottle it up. The stiff upper lip and all that. No one's ever taught us what we're supposed to do with our sorrow, our rage. Unaddressed and unexpressed, it has nowhere to go but deeper into oneself. It becomes a part of our identity, this grief. And we think that's a legitimate way of dealing with it. If you bury it deep where no one can see it, that's got to mean it's gone, right?

Right?

I've healed to the point that I can write this without crying now, but I can't downplay the tightness I'm feeling in my throat and chest. At six months, my grief is lighter now--less like an open wound and more like a scar. Other people won't know it's there (I can pet other peoples' dogs now without tearing up, and I suppose that's progress), but I know it's there and I have a feeling that it always will be.

Of course, in our own grief we forget about that of others. While I was home over Thanksgiving, my little brother broke down and cried in the car when I was driving him home. I hadn't realized how much he still missed Shadow until then.

I'm not of the belief that dead people or things can hear you, but since Shadow died I've made something of an exception for him. So, darling boy, if you've got access to the Internet in Dog Paradise or wherever you are, hugs and kisses and MilkBones to you from me. Miss you, sweetling.

Book 17: Memoirs of a Geisha

2010-10-23T22:34:00.000-07:00

When a novel is adapted into a film, I almost invariably find the written version more appealing. It might just be one of those elitist things that comes with the territory of being a longtime book-lover; you somehow always come to believe that your imagination is more accurate and on-point than the other guy's.

However, through pretty much no fault of its own, Memoirs of a Geisha as a novel is, in my books (ha ha ha, puns!), surpassed by the silver screen's version. I think a lot of this has to do with the way the movie adeptly brings to life all the colors and sounds of the world that Golden strives to portray in his writing. John Williams' arrestingly lovely accompanying score doesn't hurt either. In any case, the novel is significantly improved upon in the film, which I find to be a good thing. After all, isn't that why screen adaptations of books are made in the first place? (And that noise you hear is Hollywood responding with a resounding "NO". Clearly.)

At its core, Memoirs is a novel about overcoming adversity. It tells the story of one geisha's dogged pursuit of love and happiness in the face of career challenges, political turmoil, and bitter rivalries. Narrated from the perspective of retired geisha Nitta Sayuri, Memoirs paints an elegant picture of the colorful, separate reality--the "flower and willow world"--in which geisha once lived and worked. It was the imagery that drew me in most of all; Golden's descriptions of the settings and costumes are vivid and arresting. I found myself reading late into the night, just to get a "glimpse" of another one of Sayuri's kimono. I've always been fascinated by Japanese culture, and Memoirs of a Geisha definitely fed that fascination.

The novel also impressed me because it read like an actual memoir. It is written in such a manner that it is easy to forget that it is, in fact, a work of fiction. The book even begins with a (fictional) note from the translator. For the five days it took me to read this book (which makes it a quick read, considering the fact that I'm a full-time student), I was absolutely ensnared by the world that Golden creates with his prose.

That being said, the book definitely has its flaws. While Memoirs is a good introduction into certain concepts within Japanese culture and the geisha subculture, it is clearly a novel written by an American. Rather than being introduced and incorporated subtly, many of the cultural elements are addressed with a heavy-handedness that is sometimes jarring. It is clear in these instances that Golden is trying to prove that he did his research. He works hard to capture a Japanese "voice", and it's sort of hit-or-miss throughout the novel. The characters were also kind of flat to me. Even Sayuri, in spite of being the protagonist, is generally lacking in depth and definition.

I do in some respects feel like the movie did it better; the characters are more real, and even the plot was executed more capably in the film than it was in the novel. The screenwriters made changes to the plot that even I, as a purist when it comes to film adaptations, approve of. The changes heightened the drama and improved the pacing, and these are changes which I wish Golden's editor would have made.

In any case, Memoirs of a Geisha is a fine book and a fine film. While both provide a relatively good primer on Eastern culture and philosophy, they are both works of historical fiction, and this is a fact that is important to take into account. As long as readers/viewers keep this in mind and don't try to take Memoirs at anything more than its face value, they will enjoy and benefit from their experience.

Grade: B+
Rating: 13 and up, for some (relatively vague) sexual content

Today (Phoenix)

2010-09-16T17:02:00.000-07:00

Today is the two-year anniversary of my grandmother's death. I wrote this poem a week after she died in 2008. It seems like it's been forever now.
-----------------

Today,

I remember you in joy;

In laughter,

In echoes of voices, reminiscent foods

And silk that still smells like your skin.

Strange is the relief blooming now

Where grief, even in life, gnawed.

Silent is this journey's ending,

Which we take as fate.

Curious, the lack of the black rage,

For where I could not see before,

You are everywhere now;

Soft, golden, sunlit.

Full.

And even as weeping--so cathartic--

Cleanses backwards,

Spreading dirt to leave a snowy soul,

I can say nothing but "good night"

And wish you, the hero, safe travels to Valhalla;

No longer wasted, as in armored battle, but

Resplendent, glowing.

Eternally alive.

The phoenix of my dreams.

Brave warrior,

Dearest heart,

To where do you go now?

-----------------------------------------------

"Someday we'll all be gone,

But lullabies go on and on.

They never die--

That's how you and I will be..."

~Lullaby by Billy Joel

Book 16: The Pillars of the Earth

2010-09-11T00:32:00.000-07:00

After a good two months of slow, painstaking reading, I have finally finished reading Ken Follett's novel, The Pillars of the Earth. The time it took me to finish the book reflects in no way upon the book itself, but upon the fact that I hadn't had much time to read until recently.

Pillars of the Earth is almost 1000-pages long and spans over fifty years of medieval history. If you've seen Paul Haggis' 2004 film, Crash, then you'll be familiar with the broad idea of the novel. Pillars takes characters from many different walks of life and unites their lives, ambitions, and story lines in one town, with the building of a cathedral church. Their affairs tangle together quickly and become inexorably linked, which is what drives the novel's plot. The book is also like Robert Bloch's Psycho in that it is divided into two parts, each of which is presided over by a different protagonist.

The novel partially takes place during a period in history known as The Anarchy--a nineteen year-long war of succession between King Stephen (also known as Stephen the Usurper) and the Empress Maud following the death of the King Henry's heir, William, aboard the White Ship, which sank off the coast of France in the year 1120. This incident plays a major role in the political undercurrents which guide the novel's plot (and, besides, is a really interesting era of British history on its own).
And now for an attempt at a spoiler-free plot summary... I suppose I could come up with some keywords and list them in vague order of appearance. Here goes:

public execution, perjury, maternal morbidity, attempted infanticide, treason, invasion, ecclesiastical trickery, ruination, bribery, LOTS OF WAR, arson, architecture, political cunning, building, evil plots, self-denial, oopsies-babies, epic love stories, more evil plots, global travel, epic disaster, more war, murder, royal succession, court disputes, marriage, divorce, skirmishes, religious miracles, science, public execution, changing the church forever

Ok, the order sort of went to crap towards the middle of the list, but it was spot-on at the beginning and end. Anyway, there is a LOT that happens, to say the least.

There are many things that I love about this book. The characters are strong, and although some of them ended up being written too black-and-white for my taste, they are written vividly and well. The settings are also stunningly portrayed. Follett has a real knack for writing engagingly about architecture, of all things, and paints beautiful pictures with his words.

The plot is also strong in that it honestly does have something for everyone. Follett keeps the action varied, and in doing so engages his audience even further. As in 'Crash', the end of the novel sees all the threads coming back together to form a complete, intricate tapestry of intersecting lives and worlds. The melding of political intrigue, war, religious zeal, and iron-willed industry and innovation is evocative and intriguing.

When I further analyze my fascination with this book, I have to admit that I've always had a weird, distant sort of fascination with the concept of a God. I don't consider myself a believer in much other than science and people, but I definitely found myself interested by the frequently-mentioned theme of "God's will". Watch out. Some day, when I write a post about East of Eden, this idea--the idea of human will versus what is construed as the will of God--will come up again.

In summary, I looooved The Pillars of the Earth, and I'll read it again as soon as I get a chance.

Grade: A

Rating: 15+, for language and strong adult content (definitely took me by surprise)

Since finishing the book I've also had the chance to watch the recent STARZ channel series. I was fully aware before I started watching that it wasn't going to be great, since trying to cram such a huge book into a few one-hour episodes was definitely not going to happen. However, I wasn't expecting to be quite so disappointed. They drastically changed the fates of certain characters, cut out major themes, and added some really awkward undertones to certain character dynamics (hello, incest?). The one thing that I felt the series was good for was the portrayal of England at the time. While Follet's writing provided me with a lot of fabulous mental images, it was nice to have some of the corroborated by actual visuals. If you haven't read the book and have watched the series, I implore you not to judge a novel by its screen adaptation. The book is a zillion times better.

New Year

2010-08-30T01:19:00.000-07:00

I never bothered to work on drumming up traffic for this sodding blog, so it's no surprise that I'm the only one who reads it. Not sure why I actually bother posting here, but I think it has more than a little to do with narcissism. Meh. At least I have my own little corner of the Interwebs.

This has been a strange summer and, honestly, I could've gone without pretty much 100% of it. Very little happened that I actually enjoyed, and a great lot of it was actually pretty crappy. I learned things, I guess, but it was mostly stuff I wish I hadn't had to learn. People suck, even (especially?) when they're related to you. No matter how many times you experience loss, it never gets easy. Folks don't communicate nearly as well as you think they do. Just because you're nice to someone doesn't mean they aren't going to be an ass in return. Stuff like that. It's stuff that one ought to know, in theory, but it doesn't become something to live by until you have to actually experience it yourself. And then it starts to suck.

It's been a bit of a downer, and I don't really know how to talk about it with people. Clear solution: spew it into the endless ether of the Web. I'm a little disgusted with myself.

Junior year of college starts tomorrow, which is very weird. People keep using the term "halfway over"to refer to our college experience, and I wish they would quit it because I'm not ready to be done with college. After college comes medical school (hopefully), and I'm not nearly as excited for that transition as I was for the one from high school. I want to feel optimistic, but I'm not finding much to work with right now.

I guess I should put things in perspective, though. I have a great job, and my friends are back on campus now. I'm still tight as ever with my parents and brother. I have good relationships, and I'm working on making new ones. I'm a respected member of the college community--a leader, even. That's all good stuff.

Classes start soon, and there's nothing for mood-elevation like routine (I suppose). I'm hoping that this year will be better than last year, and that the burnout I'm concerned about will just leave me alone.

I'm tired. When I'm not surrounded by people, it's easy for me to sink into dark funks, which are difficult for me to pull myself out of. I feel old, and stale. I hate to think of myself as being dried up and boring at the age of 20, but that's where I seem to have found myself.

This is probably just the fatigue talking. Things are supposed to look better in the morning, right?

The Last Airbender: Why I'm Boycotting (And Why You Should Too)

2010-07-02T00:10:00.000-07:00

I'm not going to write something all that eloquent, because I'm terribly jet-lagged and very tired, but I figure I should send this out into cyberspace while it still has as a chance of influencing your decisions.

I implore you not to go and see Paramount's new film, The Last Airbender, this weekend in theaters. In fact, I would encourage you not to go see it at all. The reason? Racebending.

If you want a really detailed explanation and analysis of what Racebending is and why it sucks, head over to http://www.racebending.com/v3/ and take a read or watch some of their informational videos. Here, I'll limit my explanation to to the following:

In the casting and production of The Last Airbender, Paramount has displayed a level of racism that I, for some unknown reason, had come to not expect from Hollywood (silly me!). For those of you who know about the original Nickelodeon cartoon, Avatar: The Last Airbender, the source material for Paramount's new film is an American-made anime-style cartoon which features an entirely Asian/Inuit cast of characters. However, in the translation of this TV series to the silver screen, Paramount has made the inspired decision to replace all of the Asian heros with Caucasian ones, going so far as to ask specifically for white actors in their casting calls for the lead roles.

In addition to this, both actors and members of the casting crew have produced various quotational gems that amount to nothing more or less than a suggestion and expectation of brownface (see Wikipedia for more information). Here's a delightful bit from Deedee Ricketts, the film's casting director:

"If you're Korean, come in a kimono. If you're from Belgium wear lederhosen. Even if you came with a scarf today, put it over your head so you'll look like a Ukrainian villager or whatever."

Cute, right?

The best part is that there's more. Not only did Paramount decide to just ignore the fact that the show's heroes are Asian, but they decided to color code things for us a little bit in case we didn't get the fact that they were being just a wee bit racist. Which, of course, is why just about all of the actors playing the antagonists are South Asian, aka "brown". Thanks, Paramount for solidifying for us once and for all that white = good and brown = bad.

So that's racebending for you. I can't imagine that the decision was made for any other reason than for a perceived monetary benefit, since I don't imagine Paramount having a KKK-type agenda (though I could be wrong). And maybe that's what makes it worse. See, "Avatar" as shown on Nickelodeon is one of the only existing American cartoons that actually has Asian heroes. For just about the first time, Asian kids have self-reliant, able protagonists who look like them.

To a lot of people this might not seem like a big deal, but allow me to remind you of the fervor that surrounded the creation of Disney's first black princess, Tiana. If having a Disney character to aspire to was so important to black youth, is it at all difficult to imagine that the same might be true for Asian kids? Don't they deserve to know that you can be Asian and still save the world--that being a hero doesn't necessitate Caucasian descent? This, I think, is what boils my blood the most about Paramount's adaptation--the fact that it strips "Avatar" of what makes it special to so many of its fans around the world. It tells Asian kids that they aren't worthy of telling their own story--that someone pretending to look like them can tell it better than they can. And that's a sad thing.

This is an annoyingly long note, so if you read it all the way through I offer you serious props and thanks. I suggest you look critically at this issue instead of brushing it aside as a trivial matter of pop-culture. I encourage you to maybe even do a little research of your own. Most of all, though, I really hope you and your friends will take this into consideration when making the decision of which movie to go see at the theater this weekend and in the future. Since protests and letter-writing campaigns have clearly failed, Paramount will have to face a monetary blow if it is to learn a lesson from this experience at all, and only a failure at the box office will do.

If nothing else, be comforted by this: according to Rotten Tomatoes, this movie seriously blows.

Quick note--

2010-06-21T08:10:00.001-07:00

Quick post before I hop in the car and head to the airport--

I finished The Dress Lodger by Sheri Holman. It's a piece of historical fiction based in 1700s, cholera-stricken England and has a troubled surgeon and an equally-troubled prostitute as its protagonists.

I don't have much time to go into great detail, so I'll just tell you that once I got a good bite of the plot I couldn't put the book down. Holman's tart, sassy prose keeps you coming back for more and lends new life to writing about this time period.

You should read it.

More later.

Good Old Mr. Kissel

2010-05-25T18:51:00.000-07:00

A lot of stuff has happened since I last posted, and most of it is stuff that even the phantom readers of this readerless blog won't actually care about. In summary, sophomore year is over. That includes organic chemistry, which I couldn't be happier to be over and done with (though, as my mom likes to remind me, I can't forget about it quite yet thanks to the impending MCATs). I'm looking forward to junior year.

As I've mentioned before, I'm spending the summer on campus doing research, which should be interesting. In an attempt to stave off any potential burn-out or homesickness, my parents were cool enough to fly me home for the weekend, so I'm sitting in the airport waiting for my flight back to Claremont. On my way to my terminal, I stopped in a restroom to, y'know, fix my hair...and was all of a sudden struck by how automated to the whole place was. Now that toilets, faucets, and even soap and towel dispensers are motion-sensitive, you don't have to touch anything. It's pretty wild.

This is something that I feel like my old science teacher, Mr. Kissel, would have appreciated. When I was a kid in his second grade science class, he had me living in fear of the bacteria that hangs out on toilet flushes, door handles, and everywhere else. "What's the point in washing your hands after using the restroom?" he would ask, "When the next thing you do is touch a door handle that's covered in bacteria?"

To keep us germ-free, Mr. Kissel used to have us dip our hands in a bucket of chlorine-treated water that he kept outside of the classroom before and after class, and then shake the water off so we wouldn't have to ruin our cleanliness with a bacteria-covered paper towel.

Mr. Kissel is the same guy who taught us how to count in binary, froze ping pong balls in liquid nitrogen, and gave us a very good mnemonic device for remembering the planets of the solar system (My Very Educated Mother Just Served Us Nine Pizzas...though I suppose it's moot now, what with Pluto not being a planet anymore and all). I credit him with much of my interest in science, so way to go Mr. Kissel!

I hope he's doing well.

Blooming

2010-04-22T15:05:00.000-07:00

So it turns out that the flowers I bought on Sunday are not tiger lilies but are, in fact, orange Asiatic Lilies. The color is somewhat more subtle than I expected.

It's been really fun to watch them bloom throughout the week.

Photo-Heavy

2010-04-18T12:16:00.000-07:00

I've been busy and, on top of that, I've been feeling lazy so I haven't posted in a while.

So here's a quick catch-up on what's been going on...through pictures~

1. Saw Sandra Day O'Conner speak. It was interesting, but it sounded more like an infomercial for her new KID-FRIENDLY INTERACTIVE website than a talk to be given to college students.

2. Did some delicious cooking with my friends. We had an adventure finding ingredients, and eventually we didn't even get all the stuff we needed, so it was a lesson in improvisation. The food came out quite deliciously though... Fusilli in tomato cream sauce and a pizza with roasted garlic, fresh tomato, and gorgonzola & feta cheese. Tasty.

3. The Red Cross Club, which I'm part of, held a CPR/First Aid Training event that went really well. We got to play with dummies and bandage people up. Good times! We got a bunch of people certified.

4. My sponsor was babysitting an adorable little puppy named Meryl. We went and played with her. Those of us on campus who have dogs back home tend to go into withdrawal, so it was awesome to actually have a puppy all to ourselves for a couple hours.

5. My fellow Red Cross Club VP, Gabi, brought a delicious cake in to our meeting last week! And she even had the bakery personalize it. So. Pretty.

6. Last week I decided to make the great leap and buy a mixed bouquet. It was rewarding. They were pretty (and stayed fresh for most of the week, too!). Orange/red Gerber daisies, azaleas, some unknown pretty purple-and-white things, and fern fronds. Love it.

7. I started making pretty hair clip things with all the scrap yarn I have sitting around. They're fun and easy to make, even though crochet isn't really my thing.

8. I saved the best part for last. My little brother came and visited me this weekend and we went and saw Russell Peters perform on campus. It was FANTASTIC. We had great seats--super-close to the stage, but just far enough that he couldn't pick on us. I haven't laughed that much in ages.

Photography was ultra-prohibited, so I didn't risk taking any pictures.

I put the boy on a plane back home this morning, and I'm already feeling the family withdrawal. It was a wonderful weekend. My brother brought me a vase from home, so now I don't have to do the sad thing where I arrange beautiful flowers in an unsightly water bottle.

This week, my brother paid for my flowers so I bought ten bucks worth of what I'm pretty sure are tiger lillies (Mr. Florist's nephew wasn't 100% sure, but I like lillies in general so I'm pretty sure it's worth the risk).

Sunday Flowers

2010-04-05T15:48:00.001-07:00

I have no idea what these are called, but they caught my eye as I was walking through the market this Sunday and I just had to have them. The Mr. Florist who I usually go to had an unusually small selection, so I went to the other guy and picked up these beauties

I still don't have a legit vase, so I'm still doing a terrible injustice to these by storing them in the Arrowhead bottle. Sad...

To be fair, I've trimmed the stems since taking this picture, so they fit better in the...vase...but still. Yuck.

EoE Progress

2010-03-30T10:23:00.000-07:00

Since returning to school my progress on reading East of Eden has been...zilcho. Predictable. I don't have free time, and when I do have free time I tend to spend it doing brain-dead things. So sad. TV>Steinbeck? Well, no, but it's easier to zone out while watching TV than it is while reading. I'll have to get back into it soon...

Sunday Flowers

2010-03-29T00:01:00.000-07:00

Today I bought what Mr. Florist calls "fragrancy lilacs". I'm absolutely delighted by them. They smell lovely. :)

The process of getting them into a vase was pretty involved. Mr. Florist's assistant told me that I should crush the stems of the flowers so they'd pick up water better, and he said to use a hammer to do so because the stems are pretty woody. Unfortunately I don't have a hammer here at school so I just used the wrong end of a screwdriver. I've never made use of such an involved kit of tools in arranging a bouquet of flowers before...

There's also the snag that the friend of mine who lent me his vase needed it back, so I'm currently out one vase. Luckily for me a freshman of mine was kind enough to donate a giant water bottle to my cause. Thanks, Marco!

The only unfortunate thing is that apparently the ants think that these flowers smell delightful too, so they invaded my room this evening to take a whiff. Happily, my RA has sprays of death and destruction readily available outside of her room. Needless to say, the invaders have been routed. Woo!

Such lovely color contrast! Thanks, Mr. Florist! Now my next mission is to get a real vase...

Summertime

2010-03-26T23:08:00.000-07:00

I've received a grant to do research on campus for the summer.

This should make me happy, but it sort of doesn't. I never thought I'd say this, but I'm kind of sick of Claremont. Sophomore year for premeds is notoriously difficult, and even though I've done pretty well, it hasn't been easy. I was hoping to spend a quiet couple of months at home with my family, continuing research at the lab where I worked last summer. In all honesty, the research would've been pretty secondary to everything else I had planned--the epic reading lists, the backpacking trips, cooking, playing with my dog, and finally learning to use my dad's fancy camera. I won't be able to do a lot of that if I'm spending the summer on campus, and I guess that has me a little down.

The obvious thing to do is talk to my advisor about my options ASAP and see what she thinks. I do feel like I'd be a fool to turn down a paid on-campus research opportunity, though... We'll see.

In other news, I participated in a murder-mystery dinner this evening that was put together by one of the lovely freshmen on my floor. It was quite the adventure (though there was no dinner actually involved...)!

Book 15: Her Fearful Symmetry by Audrey Niffenegger

2010-03-24T15:20:00.000-07:00

Cool fact: my aunt is Audrey Niffenegger's physician.

I guess that doesn't count as having a real celebrity connection, but it's within six degrees of separation so it's good enough for me. My aunt was cool enough to take my copy of her first novel,The Time Traveler's Wife, back with her to Chicago after her last visit to be signed, and she recently sent me a "mission accomplished" email. Apparently, Audrey Niffenegger thinks my name is pretty.

Awesome? Indubitably.

Unfortunately what isn't awesome is the experience I had reading her latest novel, Her Fearful Symmetry. It was one of those books that I bought in that epic Border's gift card splurge I went on at the end of last semester. Seeing as The Time Traveler's Wife is more or less my favorite novel, I was expecting greatness from this new addition to Niffenegger's body of work. Maybe that was the problem, since I was sorely disappointed with the novel in light of my great expectations.

Her Fearful Symmetry is about two identical mirror twins--Julia and Valentina--and, by extension, about their mother (Edie) and her estranged identical twin sister (Elspeth). The novel opens with Elspeth's death. She bequeaths her estate and most of her worldly possessions to her young nieces, stating that they will come into their inheritance at age 21 with the conditions that they live in her London flat for at least a year before selling it and that. The girls, who at age 20 have floated in and out of various colleges and now live in their parents' home in Chicago, decide to take Elspeth's offer.

They arrive in London a year later, Valentina more reluctantly than the bossy, dominant Julia. The two establish themselves in Elspeth's apartment next to London's famous Highgate Cemetery and explore the city together. Eventually they meet Elspeth's elusive lover, Robert, and Martin, an older man living in the building with persistent, debilitating OCD.

The novel quickly begins to explore the relationship between the twins. While highly dependent on each other, Julia and Valentina have very different ideas of what it means to be a twin, and Valentina spends much of the novel trying to emancipate herself from Julia. Her budding romance with the much-older Robert proves to be particularly divisive.

And then there's the ghost story. It turns out that Elspeth's ghost is still skulking around the apartment, and while she at first can't be detected or heard, she observes everything and eventually becomes able to communicate with Julia and Valentina using a Ouija Board set-up. The ghost story and Valentina's desire for individuality come together in what I consider to be a tragic but rather predictable end to the story, which I won't reveal here.

I was not pleased by this book. Besides being written in a manner that makes it difficult to really bond with or relate to the characters, the style is murky and lacks the fluidity and detail that made Niffenegger's first novel such a joy to read. It comes off as less intelligent and more gimmick-y than her previous work.

While the characters are life-like and believable, I found it easy to read about them without caring what happened to them (this is with exception to Martin, who was actually remarkably well-written and is arguably the single-most interesting character in the entire novel). The emotional developments of the characters are all so on the surface that there is no brain work left for the reader to do. Instead of being the literary experience that The Time Traveler's Wifewas for me, with its running themes and emotional undercurrents, Her Fearful Symmetry was something of a joke--predictable, cliched, and too much like the run-of-the-mill paperback. I wasn't a huge fan of the supernatural aspect of the story either, though it's undoubtedly a very cool idea. I guess it just wasn't for me.

Like I said before, maybe the biggest mistake I'm making in all of this is continually comparing Niffenegger's two books, but I think it's fair to hold one work to the standards of its predecessor. The conclusion I've come to regarding Her Fearful Symmetry is this: sweet idea, but lackluster execution. The book could have been shorter, less convoluted, and much more interesting.

Grade: C+

Rating: 13+ for mild language, minimal sexual content.

PS: Cool fact--I was presented with my high school diploma by none other than MC Hammer. And, what's more, I got a hug. That's right. I touched that. How d'you like me now? :P

Seven Weeks Left...

2010-03-22T02:06:00.000-07:00

Spring break's over and it's my first night back in my dorm. Classes start tomorrow morning at 8AM.

I miss home already.

Good night.

East of Eden

2010-03-12T18:12:00.001-08:00

Spring Break started on Friday, which means I have a good week at home to do whatever I want. Yesterday, I finally tucked into East of Eden by John Steinbeck. I bought a copy of the book after reading The Grapes of Wrath during my junior year of high school, so it's been sitting on my bookshelf waiting for me to crack it open for three years. I think it's about time.

I fell in love with Steinbeck's use of language in The Grapes of Wrath, and even though I'm only a few chapters into East of Eden it's clear that it's going to be just as beautiful to read, if not more-so. Steinbeck thought of this book as his magnum opus, and described it as the book that he had been practicing to write for his entire career. That's pretty heavy if you think about it, since Steinbeck has a lot of amazing novels to his name.

Apparently the major theme in this novel is Biblical, as seems to be the case with so many of the world's great works of literature. In particular, East of Eden parallels the story of Cain

and Abel, the ill-fated sons of Adam and Eve. Since I don't know very much about the Bible (most of my knowledge of it is derived from Mr. Deity, which you should totally go check out; it's hilarious), I did a Wikipedia search on the subject. This is what I found:

Adam knew his wife Eve intimately, and she conceived and gave birth to Cain. She said, "I have had a male child with the LORD's help."^[33] ²Then she also gave birth to his brother Abel. Now Abel became a shepherd of a flock, but Cain cultivated the land. ³In the course of time Cain presented some of the land's produce as an offering to the LORD. ⁴And Abel also presented [an offering]^[34]— some of the firstborn of his flock and their fat portions.^[35] The Lord had regard for Abel and his offering, ⁵but He did not have regard for Cain and his offering. Cain was furious, and he was downcast.^[36] ⁶Then the LORD said to Cain, "Why are you furious? And why are you downcast?^[37] ⁷If you do right, won't you be accepted? But if you do not do right, sin is crouching at the door. Its desire is for you, but you must master it." ⁸Cain said to his brother Abel, "Let's go out to the field."^[38] And while they were in the field, Cain attacked his brother Abel and killed him.

Cool. Yay, murderous creepy people! This should be a fun read.

Being home makes me feel like I must be just east of Eden myself. My family lives in a seriously beautiful place. It's the kind of beauty that you don't really get over, even after living

surrounded by it for a long time like I have. I love spending time with my folks, and being able to get away from school for a few days isn't shabby either.

That's not to say that I don't have piles of homework to finish by the time I get back. I have little to no idea as to how I'm ever going to get this organic chemistry problem set done...

OH WELL.

Scripps Dinners, Party Weekends, and Mystery Flowers

2010-03-09T14:25:00.000-08:00

Last week was pretty busy, and kind of stressful too. On top of having multiple tests to take and several important assignments due, I've been conducting zillions and zillions of interviews as part of my new job, so that's been going on all week as well.

My friends and I decided to get away from campus for dinner on Friday night, mostly in an effort to get away from the junk our dining hall tends to serve on Fridays. The four of us headed up to Scripps College for food and sat there talking until the dining hall staff turned out the lights on us, which we pretty much took as a cue to leave.

David picked a cherry blossom sprig on the walk to dinner. They were rather pretty. :)

In spite of intentions to go to bed early, we ended up going for a late-night walk around campus. On Friday night, our college hosted a concert by Lupe Fiasco, and aside from that there were a lot of parties going on. Needless to say, we ran into a lot of people who were not quite at their best. We even managed to catch a glimpse of one of our drunken contemporaries laying claim a light post. With his urine. Classy moment? Not so much.

A positive outcome of the excursion, though, was the discovery these beauties growing in one of the flower beds on the quad:

I have no idea what kind of flowers these are, but if anyone out there in the void does know, I'd definitely appreciate a heads-up!

After finding the lovely specimen above, I figured I wouldn't be buying flowers from the market this week. Of course, I was wrong. How could I have possibly passed these up?

Clearly, I couldn't resist. And why would I ever want to? These orchids are sitting on my desk in the bud vase that my mom cleverly devised from a broken olive oil drizzler. They're so lovely to look at that sometimes I'm almost sorry to get up from my desk after finishing my homework for the night. Almost, but not quite, of course.

Happy National Reading Month!

2010-03-08T13:37:00.000-08:00

Well, I suppose the title says it all. March is apparently National Reading Month in the United States. I'm not sure when this was designated, but it's good to see that people still want to celebrate literature and the simple joy that reading a good book can provide. I'll always be grateful to my dad who, even after an exhaustingly long day at work, would diligently read me a story before bed just about every night when I was little. He to this day enjoys reminding me of how I used to jab him with my elbow to wake him up if he, God forbid, fell asleep while reading to me. Apparently I've always been a book fiend.

I hope you get to enjoy some quality reading this month, whether it's a piece of classic literature or a childhood favorite. I myself hope to buckle down and read at least a good chunk of Steinbeck's East of Eden while I'm on spring break. Wish me luck!

(Image courtesy of ModCloth.com)

Three Colors of Sky

2010-03-03T18:52:00.001-08:00

I was standing in the exact same place on my college campus when I took these pictures. The sky sure looks different in all of them...

Oh, SoCal...you never fail to astound/amaze/confuse me!

Featured in the bottom left corner of this picture is my lovely

friend over at Striped Green Gloves. Go check

her stuff out--she writes a mean

music blog.

Just look at that sky!

Sunday

2010-02-28T21:20:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I woke up and it looked like this outside my window:

So I was pretty surprised when I woke up this morning and saw the following:

Pretty startling, right? I spent all of yesterday indoors avoiding the rain, and would've been sad if my Sunday morning ritual had been interrupted by the rain.

On Sundays, I get up by about 8 o'clock, and do homework until 10, at which point I suit up and go for a run around Claremont. The circuit usually takes me about a half an hour, and after I'm done I head to the Village, which is tiny Claremont's idea of a Downtown area. Timing on Sunday mornings is key, and this is because Donny, the Bubble Tea Man, only ever has his boba ready by 10:30 AM.

Every Sunday morning, I show up at CK's Cafe and order the same thing--a small Thai iced tea with boba. It's a beloved weekly indulgence, which I know I'm supposed to savor but can never find the self-control to drink slowly. I reduced this puppy from full to just about empty in under five minutes today. I think that might be a new record.

Donny is often the first person I talk to on Sundays. I actually just learned his name today and was, to be perfectly honest, kind of surprised. He's an adorable old Asian man with a pushy, stuffy wife. I don't know what I was expecting his name to be, but I definitely wasn't expecting "Donny". It's a pretty neat name, though.

After getting my tea, I walk around the Farmer's Market, and sometimes I check out the produce booths (which I buy much less often than I should; I'm a sucker for samples, though). Generally, though, I make a bee-line straight for the flower vendor.

Today there were way too many options to choose from--mini gerber daisies, orchids, roses, snapdragons, tulips, sunflowers... But then I saw these and I just had to have them.

Irises remind me of my dad (they're his favorites). You really can't go wrong with them. I've always been a fan of their gorgeous color-contrast.

Notice, though, the gimpy petal on this flower! Sad! Wish I'd noticed it and picked out a different bouquet...

Irises are a snap to arrange, mostly because there isn't much arranging to do. You just cut off the extra leaves, cut them to the right height, and pop them into the vase.

There sure were a lot of extra leaves on this bouquet, though...

They're so pretty and green! It was definitely a shame to have to throw them away. I sort of feel like they belonged in a vase of their own!

Well, that was my Sunday morning. What did you do today?

Flowers

2010-02-27T14:53:00.001-08:00

One of my favorite things about going to school in Claremont is the fact that they have a Farmer's Market that operates throughout the year. Come rain or come shine, those troopers are out there every Sunday morning with their produce and their hand-knitted hats and their used books and whatever else they're selling. I started going for the weird novelty items--there used to be a lady who sold tote purses that she crocheted from cut-up plastic grocery bags--but I keep going for the flowers.

There are two vendors who sell cut flowers, and all of last year I gazed upon those booths with envy because, you see, my roommate last year was allergic to flowers to the point that the only plants we could have in our room were of the plastic variety. Very sad. This year, however, I live by myself and as such have made it a point to buy flowers for my room every week. I think it's a good, happy way to spend a paycheck.

This semester I've decided to keep photographic evidence of the flowers I buy. They're too much of a delight for me to not document them.

Week 1:

Red Gladiolus! They barely fit in

the vase...

Week 2:

Red, pink, and mauve tulips, courtesy

of my parents who visited

that weekend.

Beautifully arranged by my mom. :)

Week 3:

Yellow Renanculae! Simply too sun-shiney to resist!

I wonder what will catch my eye this week...

Book 14: Ella Enchanted by Gail Carson Levine

2010-02-27T11:41:00.000-08:00

One of my best friends here at school insists that the Anne Hathaway movie based on this novel is "legitimately awesome", but it's still one I refuse to see. Maybe I'm being closed-minded, but I thought that the point of adapting a book to screen was to improve upon the material, not destroy it. The trailer for the film alone told me it was going to be a heinous bastardization of the book, and seeing as it's one of my favorite books in the history of EVER, I'd rather spare myself the pain and stick to the good old ink-and-paper version of this story, thank you.

This is one of those books that goes against my general rule about the attractiveness of the cover predicting the merit of the novel, since it's a cover I loathe but a novel that I love. Ella Enchanted by Gail Carson Levine is one of the first books that I consciously remember reading and adoring from page one. I first picked it up in the fourth grade and can still devour it in one sitting ten years later, which is a clear indication that it has something big going for it.

Ella Enchanted is a brilliant fractured fairytale version of Cinderella (duh), which takes the basic Cinderella story and weaves in all the other exciting elements of fairytale lore that the traditional take lacks--adventure, mystical creatures, dastardly plots, true romance, and a protagonist with a real personality, among other things. Out of all the Grimm or Disney Princesses, the one I've always hated on the most is Cinderella because she actually doesn't do anything. She plays second fiddle in her own story, and that's just sad. Levine's Ella takes the reins and works hard to steer a life that is very much out of her own control.

The story is very much like the original fairytale in a lot of ways. There's the distant father, the dead mom, the evil stepmother and stepsisters, the handsome prince, and the fairy godmother...and then there's a curse that forces Ella to always obey any order given to her (see the danger there?). The curse, really, is the most interesting part because that's where the deviation from the original story comes from. It's what gives Ella much of her spunk and appeal as a character. She lives her life under this unwilling compulsion to always do as she's told and is always doing her best to fight it, which gives her strength as a protagonist. Beyond that, she's written to be witty and brave and commanding, and these are all traits that the traditional Cinderella clearly lacks (actually, the only real personality trait that the original Cinerella has is "whiny". Lame).

The plot's the part I just can't give away. It's much too much fun, so you should discover it for yourself. If you're a fan of fairytales and, of course, strong female protagonists, you'll love this book, and you'll have just as much fun with it whether you're five or fifty. I always throw Ella Enchanted at pre-teen girls, but the best thing about it is the fact that it's really appropriate for anyone at all.

Everything Is Science These Days

2010-02-21T08:42:00.000-08:00

At the start of every new year, I always see a bunch of reading challenges spring up on the Internet. They always seem really fun and interesting, and I am always tempted to go for it and try one. I think it would be a dangerous thing to try, though, when I have so much academic reading to get done. I hardly even get time to read "real" literature, since once it's 2AM and I'm looking for something to put me to sleep after hours of studying scientific subject x, y, or z, I usually grab something that even I would tell you possesses of little serious literary merit. I turn back to the books that my parents used to give me grief for reading when I was in middle school--that's right, middle school.

I'd love to have more time to invest in carefully choosing books and really sinking my teeth into a couple serious pieces, but I suppose that will have to wait until summer.

In another way, though, I don't feel so bad. If Facebook questionnaires are any indication, I've read more books off of the "Books You Must Read In Your Lifetime" list than many of my English major friends. That must mean that I'm not a complete failure, right?

On that note, I'm going to go write a delightful chemistry lab. Ugh. Even my writing is all about science these days.

Book 13: The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold

2010-02-19T22:25:00.000-08:00

So I thought I posted this months ago, but it turns out that it's been sitting in my "drafts" folder since November. Oops.

---------------

Seeing as this book has been made into a soon-to-be-released film, I figure should review it.

The Lovely Bones is Alice Sebold's second novel, with the first being Lucky--Sebold's memoir about her experience and survival of a brutal rape in 1980, and how she came to bring her attacker to justice. Riffing off of that theme, The Lovely Bones is the story of a young girl named Suzie Salmon who is violently raped, murdered, and dismembered by her neighbor. After her death, Suzie narrates the rest of the novel from her own personal Heaven, observing as her friends, family, and her killer deal with their experience and move on with their lives. It also functions as something of a murder mystery thriller, because while we know the identity of the killer from the get-go, the process of the family developing their inklings and their interactions with the investigators is another thing entirely.

There isn't much to this book in the way of plot summary, since anything I say will only adulterate the experience of the book. The main strength of The Lovely Bones is the style of the narrative, which is both humorous and tremendously sad at the same time. The writing is strong and convincing, as is the host of characters. Sebold's use of sensory writing and imagery is fantastic; I adore her take on Heaven, which she describes as a perfect place created from the things one loved while alive.

At the end of the day, The Lovely Bones is really a coming-of-age story. Suzie is killed during that awkward place in life between childhood and adulthood, and spends many years trying to cope with her murder while at the same time holding on to life and the living by watching her family as they work through their grief. Her life continues through the proxy of the lives of her family members (especially her younger sister), but she remains very much a child in many aspects. Without the experiences that propel the living into maturity her soul, and therefore her narrative, remains quite childlike through much the novel. Her outlook on her situation, however, is surprisingly mature and becomes more so as she spends more time in Heaven. She reminds me oddly of Anne Frank in this way--a young person in a terrible situation who still manages to not become jaded by their experiences. It was a pleasant parallel.

Though The Lovely Bones is fundamentally a book about tragedy and loss, it deals with these themes gracefully and, in the end, is a celebration of life and faith. While the ending was a little confusing, and perhaps a bit too perfect, it gave a satisfying conclusion to Susie's story.

Grade: A-

Rating: 14+ for violence, language, suspense

Miyazaki-san

2010-02-12T19:54:00.000-08:00

I'm a devoted, long-term vegetarian, but every time I watch Hayao Miyazaki's film Spirited Away, I always find myself craving the food that's depicted in the opening scene! I wish I could eat Spirit World food...even if it is meat. That's saying a lot for me. I think meat is freaky (which makes international dining something of a pain), but I'm not sure that I would be able to resist if someone put the food from Spirited Away on my plate. Maybe that's just the bad dorm food talking...

Anyway, Spirited Away is one of my favorite movies of all time. I don't think I will ever get tired of watching it. If you haven't had the pleasure of seeing it already, you should definitely get on it ASAP. I actually recommend the Japanese subtitled version over the English dubbed version. I love the voice actor who plays Haku in the English version, but the girl who plays Chihiro in the Japanese version is so much better than the girl from the English dub.

Delightful stuff, Miyazaki films are!

Hm...this blog is becoming motley.

Greenpeace

2010-02-07T11:59:00.000-08:00

So Greenpeace wants to set aside 40% of the world's oceans as Marine Reserves in an effort to save the world from total destruction.

I can appreciate that. After all, it's pretty gross that we have mega-trash blobs floating in our oceans, some of which are bigger than Texas (ew), and it's pretty un-legit to be spewing toxic chemicals all over the place and killing the fishies and stuff. Yeah, ocean pollution sucks. It screws all of us (yes, Minamata Disease, I'm looking at you).

But I really don't understand how setting aside 40% of the oceans as "no-take" zones is going to help. I mean, after all, wouldn't ocean currents blow that all to hell anyway? Unless Greenpeace is being really strategic about the placement of these reserves and taking ocean currents into consideration (which, in all honesty, I'm not sure they are), any efforts they make will be moot because, hey, for every square mile of ocean where someone isn't polluting, there are two or even three square miles where someone else is. And since we can't very well set up walls in the middle of the ocean to keep these areas discrete, pollutants can just as well pass willy-nilly across these imaginary boundaries and we end up with gunk everywhere, just like before. How does it make sense to say that people can pollute in 'x' location but not 'y', when the two places are obviously connected by current flows?

I would have asked the toolish Greenpeace representative who stopped me on my way back to campus from the Farmer's Market this morning, but he seemed a little out of sorts. Our friend was under the impression that the Amazonian kangaroos were endangered because we were chopping down their precious Nabisco trees. Say what??

Maybe pollution shouldn't be the top priority on our Worry List. Maybe...maybe it should be dumb people.

Book 12: Lucky by Alice Sebold

2010-02-03T15:27:00.000-08:00

I'm just going to cut to the chase with this one, because I'm in class and ought to be paying attention.

I was pretty disappointed by Lucky. I'm not sure if there's a way that this book could have been written better. It tackles really ugly subject material. I felt sick to my stomach while I was reading Lucky, and while that's probably the appropriate response to such material, it's not a comfortable feeling to endure throughout a 270+ page book.

Lucky is Alice Sebold's narration of the brutal rape and beating she experienced as a freshman in college, and of her efforts to return to normal while working to bring her rapist to justice.

Delightful, no?

That's really all you need to know about the plot. Since it's a memoir, most of it is spent in introspection and there aren't really any grand sweeps of action. This would be fine if the book weren't so moody and (for lack of a better word) EMO, but because it's paced so slowly and because Sebold's recovery experience is so entrenched in terrible, negative emotion (and, seriously, whose wouldn't be?), the middle of the book becomes muddy and plods along before diving headfirst into the ending.

The book doesn't even end on a high note, though. There's a somewhat predictable twist toward the end involving a college roommate, after which Sebold's character in the book descends into a spiral of drugs and self-destruction. She waits until the very end to let shine some teeny tiny ray of sunshine, and it barely manages to save the book from utter emo destruction.

Like I said before, I'm not sure if there is a better way to write a book like this. It's rough stuff to try and address, and Sebold seems to have done her best to talk about what is obviously a difficult subject. Still, while I didn't really expect to enjoy the book (because, really, how do you enjoy a book about rape?), I don't feel like I gained much from it either. I felt bogged down by it, and really only saw it through to the end out of a sense of duty.

If you're interested in reading an Alice Sebold book, I suggest you hit up The Lovely Bones instead. While it deals with a similar premise, the writing is much better and the mere fact that it is fiction makes it easier to digest.

Grade: B-

Rating: 15+ for violent and graphic depictions of sex, as well as language.

Books I Read Over Break

2010-01-31T11:52:00.001-08:00

So I've been back at school for a couple weeks now, so I figure I should update this thing.
I read a lot over break, and even though a lot of that reading was webcomics, a lot of it was also legit books.
Let's see...I read...
1) Lucky by Alice Sebold (B-)
2) Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri (B)
3) Her Fearful Symmetry by Audrey Niffenegger (B-/C+)
4) The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho (C)
5) Sabriel by Garth Nix (B+)
6) The Lion, The Witch, And The Wardrobe (B+)
7) Spindle's End (A)

As you can see, most of my reading experiences weren't particularly wonderful. They were, on the whole, very "ok", but I wasn't really blown away (Spindle's End is the exception to this).
More later. Shower now.

Freedom!

2009-12-18T18:54:00.000-08:00

The books have been purchased. Mission accomplished! I didn't pay a penny, either, since I used old gift cards that have been sitting in my wallet for years. Woohoo!

I'm also done with finals, which is a big yay (YAY!) and I'm heading home tomorrow morning with my parental units. I think it'll be good to get away from school for a while. I'm rather in need of a good break, and this semester has been murderously abusive.

Sir Winston Churchill (pictured at right) says that I deserve victory (he IS pointing at me, isn't he?), but I guess that remains to be seen until my grades get posted. In the meantime, I intend on doing little besides relaaaaaxing. Mm.

Book Wishlist

2009-12-14T10:44:00.001-08:00

I have literally hundreds of dollars in Borders and Barnes & Noble gift cards sitting in my wallet, and I think it's high time I use them. I have every intention of going on a crazy book binge as soon as my finals are over, and while I'm taking a break from the difficult fifteen minutes of studying I just did, I figure I might as well list some of the books I want to include in my mass purchase. Let's see...

-Her Fearful Symmetry by Audrey Niffenegger. She wrote what is possible my favorite novel of all time (namely, The Time Traveler's Wife).

-Lucky by Alice Sebold. By the author of the nationally-acclaimed novel The Lovely Bones. Girl's got talent. And it's been a while since I've read a good memoir.

-The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins. One of my best buds here at college is a Dawkins lover, so I figure I should give his stuff a try.

-Better by Atul Gawande. I read his book Complications a few years ago and loved it. Though I was pretty burned out in terms of medically-related books after my introductory seminar last Fall, I think it might be time to reopen that sector of literature.

-Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri. She writes absolutely amazing short stories. I'm curious what this new anthology looks like in comparison with Interpreter of Maladies, which has to be one of my most favorite short story collections.

-Coraline by Neil Gaiman. Haven't seen the movie yet, and I usually like to read the books before I see the film adaptation. I've been poked and prodded by tons of people to watch the movie, so I should probably get cracking on the book first.

-Book of A Thousand Days by Shannon Hale. I've read some of her other work (see: Austenland, among others), and am curious about this new addition to the litany of books she's written.

I think that's enough for now. My "To Be Read" pile at home is already prodigiously large, and adding to it is probably a really bad idea. OH WELL.

Something I've been wondering about books: What is it with authors these days and book titles like "The _____'s Wife/Sister/Daughter"? When did this title form become so daggone popular? I saw it with The Time Traveler's Wife, and before I knew it it was everywhere! Curious...

Life Update 4

2009-12-12T03:47:00.001-08:00

Fully in spite of the general hopeless that is my life right now (finals week starting Monday. Need I go on?), I can safely say that today was one of the best days of the entire semester. I saw something awesome happen today. Sometimes I forget how amazing the people around me are, and then it all comes back to me in a sudden rush that makes it absolutely impossible for me to feel sorry for myself and my pitiful knowledge of chemistry.

Cheers.

To life. L'Chaim!

Watching and waiting is for squares. I hope we've all learned a valuable lesson today.

Book 11: The Realm Of The Gods by Tamora Pierce

2009-12-11T10:21:00.001-08:00

This will be the end of my Tamora Pierce kick, or it will be for now. The Realm Of The Gods is the satisfying finish to Tamora Pierce's IMMORTALS series, and the conclusion to Daine's story.

Daine and Numair are facing what is certainly their doom when they are pulled into The Divine Realms by none other than Daine's parents, whose are both lesser gods. Though it is a very tearful reunion for Daine and her mother (who, when still mortal, was murdered by bandits) Daine and Numair must return to the Mortal Realms to help Tortall in her fight against Ozorne, who is back--this time as a conniving Stormwing instead of a conniving emperor, and with plenty of mortal and Immortal allies.

Since the war in the Mortal Realms is going on at the same time as a war between The Greater Gods and the Queen of Chaos (Ozorne+ Chaos=cohorts? Yes.), none of the Gods can be bothered to help Numair and Daine get back home, so the two are forced to make the perilous trip across the Divine Realms to request help from the Dragons. They also discover that they love each other--a wonderfully tender note in an otherwise plot-driven novel.

Once transported back to the Mortal Realms (courtesy of the Dragons), Daine takes on Ozorne in a bloody, decisive battle that ends the fighting in both the Mortal and Divine Realms.

The Realm Of The Gods provides a very fitting end to the series, and quite a satisfying one as well. Though quite fast-paced, the story is still imbued with detail and with enough character development that it doesn't rely completely upon plot. Though the trek through the Divine Realms got a tad monotonous at times, Pierce navigates the story well and does a good job of bringing the series to a fulfilling conclusion.

Grade: A-

Rating: 13+ (violence, mild cursing, romance)

Book 10: Emperor Mage by Tamora Pierce

2009-12-04T11:25:00.000-08:00

This is easily the most intense of Immortals Series novels. In Emperor Mage, the friction between Tortall and Carthak passive-aggressively comes to a head. Tortall sends a delegation of some of its most important, most powerful personalities to Carthak to negotiate a peace with the southern empire and its government. Included in the delegation are the King's Champion, the king's powerful uncle, Numair--once a resident of Carthak and a former friend of the emperor--, and others. And then there's Daine, who was asked by the Emperor Mage himself to come along with the delegation and heal his prized but suddenly sickly pet birds.

In spite of past evidence of his ill intentions towards Tortall, Emperor Ozorne of Carthak proclaims innocence and seems to be the very picture of a benevolent host, which somewhat reassures the very antsy delegation party and confuses Daine, for whom the image of the Emperor's concern for his birds and the devastation visited upon Tortall in his name are at extreme odds. The dynamic between the delegates and the Emperor is complicated by the presence of Numair, who fled Carthak and the Emperor years before the beginning of the series and had been admitted back into the Empire on a tenuous pardon from Ozorne.

Though Ozorne works hard to uphold the image of his "perfect" empire, it becomes increasingly clear that there is something amiss in Carthak. Through the action of the patron goddess of Carthak, the Graveyard Hag, Daine becomes unwillingly involved in both the political and religious struggles of the empire.

All of a sudden, things begin to go wrong. The gods, it is clear, are displeased with Emperor Ozorne, and pressure increases on Daine to act as their chosen vessel.

When everything begins to go wrong and Ozorne commits the most base treachery, Daine uses her powers--both her wild magic and a new power bestowed upon her--to bring Carthak to her knees and destroy the rule of the Emperor Mage.

Clearly, Daine is a total bad-ass.

Emperor Mage is my favorite in the series for a lot of reasons, but especially because of the new landscape we get to explore through Daine's eyes. There is also a great deal of movement in both the emotional and the physical plots, as relationships between the characters deepen and the series begins to realize its final trajectory. It's a pretty rich, evocative read, especially for a book of its sort (let's be honest, now--Tamora Pierce isn't a Tolkien or anything, but she is very good at what she does), and it's quick as well. I flew through this one in four days without sacrificing any work or sleep (though I did spend a lot of time at the gym...I get all of my fun reading done at the gym these days).

For fans of Wild Magic and Wolf-Speaker, this next book in the series will really knock your socks off. It's a fabulously fun read, and it benefits from the fact that it is a later book in the series. It seems to me that Pierce is more comfortable of her characters in this volume than she was in the previous books of the series, and that comfort translates into much more effective writing.

All in all, a job very well done.

Grade: A

Rating: 12+ (advisory: themes of doom, treachery, violence, "canoodling" [though this is only ever made vague mention of])

Book 9: Wolf-Speaker by Tamora Pierce

2009-11-29T14:20:00.000-08:00

As you can probably guess, this is the second book in Tamora Pierce's Immortals series. As the sequel to Wild Magic, Wolf-Speaker follows Daine's adventures in Tortall with her teacher, Numair Salmalin. In this novel, Daine receives a summons from the Long Lake wolf pack--wolves who once served as her surrogate family following the murder of her mother and grandfather--requesting her help with the human lords of the Dunlath Valley who are systematically destroying the area. However, once there, Daine and Numair find that not only is the environment surrounding the Fief of Dunlath being damaged, but there is also something else awry--and it stinks of high treason on the parts of the lord and lady of Dunlath who are, along with mages and Immortals from the southern empire of Carthak, attempting to overthrow the King and Queen of Tortall.

Daine and Numair become separated from one another and have to work alone to try and stop Yolane and Belden's treacherous plan before they destroy the valley--or worse, succeed at their plot.

This novel further develops the theme of animosity towards Tortall from the Emperor of Carthak, which becomes the primary theme in the last two books of the series. In this novel, Daine's powers also expand from simple communication with animals to the ability to heal them and enter their minds, and later transform completely.

Unlike the first book in the series, Wolf-Speaker is more of a straight-up adventure story and doesn't have nearly as much emotional and relationship development as Wild Magic did. While it was still a pleasant read, it was significantly less engaging than Wild Magic is and in my opinion almost expendable in the grand scheme of the series. Even so, Wolf-Speaker is not lost on the reader; anyone who enjoyed Wild Magic will like Wolf-Speaker as well.

Grade: B+

Rating: 10+ (advisory: mild violence)

Book 8: Wild Magic by Tamora Pierce

2009-11-28T00:31:00.000-08:00

This is a ridiculously long post (I have a long history with this book, so be prepared for storytime if you decide to read the whole dratted thing). If you're just here for the review, scroll until you see the big purple letters.

Anyway.

I picked this book up for the first time when I was in sixth grade, not knowing that it would be responsible for shaping my reading habits for the next three to four years. I devoured it and its sequels before moving on to the author's other books, and then obsessively re-read them again and again. The spine on my copy of this one is absolutely destroyed, which could be credited to the fact that it's a used book, but I choose to peg it on the fact that, once upon a time, it was the most-oft-read book on my shelf.

I generally expect books to lose their charm after a few years, and most of the time they do. There are a few exceptions I've found--Gail Carson Levine's Ella Enchanted, for example, or the first of J.K Rowling's Harry Potter Series. No matter how many times I read them, these books never get old. They are just as beloved to me now at nineteen as they were when I first read them as a fourth grader. Personally, I think that is a great feat of writing, and something that authors should be heartily congratulated on. It's easy to go from adoring a book one day to thinking that it isn't anything special the next, especially given the extreme power that public opinion has these days (hello, Twilight? I read it when it was a cool, cult-indie book. Now I wouldn't be caught dead carrying that one around in public; my apologies to Stephenie Meyer).

As I steadily read my way through Tamora Pierce's books, and as I got older, a litany of complaints with her writing sprung up in my head and stayed there, so that long after I stopped reading her books and moved on to more of the "serious literature" that my parents implored me to read instead, I still harbored a strange disdain for her and her work.

Of course, all of my criticisms of her work were completely justified. I still maintain that her later work is not nearly as good as her first couple series, and that her characters tend to become anti-stereotypes (ex: the bad-ass queen who bags bandits on horseback in taffeta ball gowns) and the kingdoms she "creates" are eventually very easy to identify as direct copies from real, existing countries. BUT, in my haste to "move on" and cover my tracks as one of the formerly Tamora Pierce-obsessed, I think I might have gone a little too far.

It had been years since I'd even paid a real thought to Tamora Pierce when I desperately grabbed Wild Magic off of my bookshelf as I left home on my way to the airport during a recent holiday from college. Last year, I came to school laden with books that I intended to read over the course of the school year. But at the end of the term, I hadn't properly finished even a single one. So this time when I packed to head back to school all the books I brought were academic, sparing two, and even those two aren't all that compelling as far as novels go. I read enough of the heavy stuff for my classes, so when I'm looking for some bedtime reading, I definitely don't turn to Feynman's Six Easy Pieces or Nehru's biography for a literary lullaby (unless I wanted to either bore myself to sleep or be lulled by words that are too big for a sleepy 2AM brain). When I look for a book to keep myself happy and entertained, especially nowadays, I find that I'm more likely to turn to the old faithfuls.

I started reading Wild Magic on the plane flight back to school, and was pretty surprised to find that it was more or less as good now as it was when I first read it. I suppose it was unexpected because of all the mental bashing I'd done of Tamora Pierce's work, but the characters still sprang out of the page and the plot still gripped like it used to. Granted, I'm now painfully aware of all the weird, unnecessary, annoying things that Pierce does with her writing, but I'm also willing to overlook all of that for the sheer enjoyment I got out of readingWild Magic. As my friend Eldridge so aptly described it, reading an easy, fun novel like that is like a brain massage--and goodness knows I need as many of those as I can get this year! I finished the book feeling rejuvenated and, for the first time in a while, excited about reading. It's been too long since I've wanted to find an excuse to pick up a book (I went so far as to go to the gym and work out for a good hour just so I could read while doing so).

Anyway, on to the review. God, this has been a long-winded post.

Alright. So, Wild Magic and its three sequels follow the adventures of Veralidaine "Daine" Sarrasri (Ridonkulous name? Yes, I think so) as she attempts to find her way in the kingdom of Tortall after her escape from her village in the country of Galla. She is young--about thirteen--, pretty, and a skilled archer. Her best friend is a ornery pony named Cloud. We quickly learn that she is an orphan (her family was killed by bandits) and that she has what she calls a "knack with animals". She meets Onua, the woman responsible for choosing horses and ponies for the Tortallan Royal Stables, and gets hired on to be her assistant. Together, the two lead the new herd of ponies south towards Tortall, getting into their share of trouble along the way.

With the help and tutelage of Tortallan mage Numair Salmalin, Daine discovers that she possesses wild magic, a rare type of magic that gives her a connection to animals (among other things). She learns to tap into it, and tackles her difficult past along the way. As her magic becomes stronger, Daine realizes that she can sense the presence of and communicate with Immortals--mythical and often dangerous creatures that were banished to the Divine Realms hundreds of years ago by mortal mages. This skill proves very useful when it comes to light that meddling sorcerers have begun releasing the immortals into the Mortal Realms. The story comes to a head when she and her new friends are attacked by raiders intent on the destruction of the Tortallan royal family. With the help of her magic, Daine helps save the day and discovers herself at home in a new country.

Wild Magic was and still is a fantastically satisfying read. I recommend it to anyone above the age of 10, and especially to those fantasy-inclined (but reluctant) readers. Tamora Pierce's work is both fun and easy to read.

Grade: A

Rating: 10+ (advisory: violence)

Life Update 3

2009-10-15T08:37:00.000-07:00

It's been raining around here for the last few days. Of course, "raining" is a relative term in Southern California. In the past 48 hours, we had approximately 3 minutes of torrential downpour. Other than that, the sky was gloomily but innocuously cloudy. We barely even got drizzled on.

And, of course, I woke up this morning to perfectly blue skies. It's supposed to hit 95 degrees tomorrow. Claremont weather is so completely on drugs. I hear it's supposed to be an El Nino year. Maybe that means we'll get more than, um, half the national average rainfall this year (National average = 38 inches per year. Claremont average = 18 inches per year. Awesome. That's what we get for living in a desert).

I have to admit, I miss rain. Even though we don't get a terrible lot of it in NorCal either, it's better there than it is here. I love ferocious rainstorms. We saw a grand total of ONE of those last year in Claremont. Good times.

I've been considering getting some of those ridiculous rainboots that all SoCal girls seem to be rocking around this time of year. They're so adorable, but I'm pretty sure I'd only get about 3 uses out of them in the year, so it would be a pretty impractical purchase. -sigh-

I'll be putting my life in OChem's hands once more tomorrow, since our third midterm starts bright and early at 8AM. Having only 9AM classes last year made it easy to forget the horror of having to get to class at 8:00. Now that I have to do it again, I can't for the life of me remember how I managed it in high school. I am convinced that high school students (and, indeed, any students who wake up at 6:30 on the daily) are superheroes.

Book 7: Austenland by Shannon Hale

2009-09-20T10:49:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure if I've made this adequately clear in the past, but I am not a huge fan of Jane Austen's. While her stuff is, yes, entertaining to a degree, I can't help but feel like every story is the same and every character is just a reconstituted Mr. Darcy or Ms. Bennett. And, yeah, her characters sometimes have rather witty, snarkastic (sarcastic + snarky; I think it's clever) things to say, but nothing from a Jane Austen novel has ever inspired me to love, admire, or even loathe her characters.

In light of this, I find it highly amusing that Shannon Hale's Austenland, a novel entirely concerned with Jane Austen and the women who love her work, is one of my favorite frivolous reads of all time. I say "frivolous" simply because, having read a few of Hale's other novels, I can safely call Austenland one of her more playful endeavors (it's meant to be funny and ridiculous, unlike Goose Girl which is much more literary in nature, for lack of a better description).

The plot of Austenland is as follows: Jane Hayes is a successful working woman living in New York. She has, it seems, everything a girl wants--beauty, youth, a good job. Everything, that is, except a healthy love life. Jane is a Pride and Prejudice addict of the highest order and a lover of everything Jane Austen. And she is obsessed--OBSESSED--with Mr. Darcy. No real boyfriend could possibly compare in her eyes to the perfection that is Fitzwilliam Darcy. It's a guilty habit--one she's aware of and knows, on some level, that she has to get rid of if she wants to move on with her life. So when a recently-deceased relative wills her an all-expenses-paid trip to an English resort built specifically with her type in mind--that is, a three-week immersion in a re-creation of Regency England that caters to the Austen-obsessed--Jane decides to go on the eccentric vacation for one last hurrah before dumping the Darcy habit for good.

For three weeks she dresses in ball gowns, learns the talk and the manners, dances, and interacts with Martin the Gardener and the broody Mr. Nobly (or is it the actors they're played by?) and the other vacationers, and she eventually finds herself in her element, thriving in the synthetic setting and loving it. The true question by the end of the vacation is this: will she bid Pembroke Park adieu having left the obsession in the past or will she, perhaps, end up with a flesh-and-blood Mr. Darcy of her own?

It's a seriously delightful novel, and a very quick read. It's chick-lit, to be sure, but even the most straight-laced readers will have to laugh and sigh with the believable and relatable character that Hale creates in Jane Hayes. The narrative reads with an ease and a wit that I really can't get enough of.

Yeah, maybe it does have a happy ending, but it's so much better than that.

Grade: A+

Rating: 14+ for (ew omgsh) making out, etc.

Book 6: "Covering: The Hidden Assault On Our Civil Rights" by Kenji Yoshino

2009-09-19T21:02:00.000-07:00

Since I'm part of the housing staff at my college, I'm supposed to read the summer reading book that the college assigns to incoming freshmen so that I can discuss the book with the freshies when they get on campus.

I picked the book up before school let out, and started reading it during the train ride to the beach on my last day in Southern California. While the material was relatively interesting, I only got through the first few pages before falling asleep (credit for the doze-off goes to the groovy motion of the train, though, not the book).

I was recently reminded of the task I had been charged with, and since I didn't have anything to read, I picked this one back up.

Covering: The Hidden Assault On Our Civil Rights is a memoir/essay by Kenji Yoshino on the broad subjects of identity and society. More specifically, it's about society's demands for conformity through an act which Yoshino calls "covering". Covering is defined as the process by which people "tone down" or de-emphasize stereotypes or stigmas associated with their racial, gender, sexual, religious, or other identities. According to Yoshino, one can cover along the four axes of appearance (by making sure we don't look stereotypically ___), affiliation (by not associating with ____ culture), activism (by not engaging in ____ causes), and association (by keeping a distance from other ____ people).

Aside from addressing a very interesting and current topic, Yoshino does a great job of building the book into a delightful cross between an expository essay and a memoir. By using his own experiences as fodder for the discussion of covering, Yoshino builds context and provides resonant parallels between his life and the sociopolitical precedent that legitimizes covering in American society. I found the format in which Covering was written to be very effective in not only giving readers a reason to care about the subject, but also in forcing readers to think about how they themselves capitulate to and impose covering demands. Yoshino's style is also very appealing to me, in that he neatly balances the flourish of more formal, lyrical writing with a very frank, honest discussion of the issue and its effects. He is also very even-handed, and seems to never make the mistake of taking himself too seriously--a quality that I respect very much in a writer.

Professor Yoshino actually came and spoke at my college on the subject of covering, and I was pleased to find that he is as well-spoken in the flesh as on the page. (He also dresses excellently, but that's quite besides the point)

I think Covering is one of those books that everyone should read, both for the purpose of better understanding society and to, more importantly, gain better understanding of the self. Covering is an issue that touches everyone, and understanding it helps us know how it relates to us and influences our place in the world.

Grade: A

Rating: 15+; it would probably bore anyone younger

Considerations: None. It's appropriate for just about everyone

Life Update 2

2009-09-02T21:41:00.000-07:00

Things have been pretty crazy of late. I'm back at school now, and it's only just hit me how crazy this semester is going to be. Still, things are good. I like my classes (or, rather, I like them as much as I am able, given that Organic Chemistry has officially put its devil mark upon my brain as of today), I love my room (it's GIGANTIC and all mine), and I adore my freshmen. I hope they like me as much as I like them.

It's been insanely hot here in Claremont, though right now it's pleasant and cool in my room (the breeze blows in through the balcony door once in a while and it really is the most exquisite thing). The local fires are burning themselves out slowly, so the air quality is gross. I find ash on the balcony in the morning sometimes, and smoke clouds rise out of the North and make me think of Mordor every time I turn towards the mountains.

According to my freshmen, a "blonde guy" keeps showing up at my door when I'm not around. I have no idea who this person is, since he's never left me a note to indicate his identity despite the fact that a good portion of my door is taken up by whiteboard. Hopefully he'll come by while I'm here and solve the mystery. That would be good.

Book 5: La Cucina by Lily Prior

2009-07-24T17:44:00.000-07:00

I feel bad for hating on this novel, since it is technically the sort of book I should like. It's about Italy, it contains stellar recipes, it's got a neat front cover (sold!). But, if I had a five-star rating scale, this book would get a whopping two. I found La Cucina by Lily Prior lacking significantly in the uniqueness and stylistic grace that makes other books of its kind so much fun to read.

This book is the sexed-up, slightly demented lovechild of Under The Tuscan Sun and Like Water for Chocolate (both are excellent books, so it's a pity that they have such an odd pseudo-offspring). While the other two books handle the topics of family, hardship, and love in a classy and novel manner, La Cucina feels like it's been done before and, moreover, is just plain awkward to read. Within the first couple of pages, the narrator is talking about lying naked on a table and going into discourse on the subject of the virility of the locals' loins.

DO NOT WANT.

Don't get me wrong--I'm not a prude by any standards and, to be fair, the back cover of the book did prepare me adequately for the general content. Food and sex are deeply intertwined in this book; the two are explored together in all varieties of visual media (see photography byGeorgia O'Keefe, or the Japanese film "Tampopo"), so it isn't at all an unnatural pairing. What weirded me out was the style, the manner in which these themes were discussed. There is a lot of what I have termed "sexytime" in this book (I'm sure you can figure out what that means). I generally have no problem with literary sexytime. The problem with this novel is that the sexytime isn't...sexy. Or sensual. It's the kind of sexytime that makes your (or, at least, my) skin crawl.

But, hey, maybe the problem is with me. As a member of the younger generation, I don't have any relish for expostulation upon the mating rituals of the elderly (which, of course, is the nature of sexytime in La Cucina). Perhaps I just have some growing up to do before this will be a relevant/appealing read for me. In that case, I suppose your enjoyment depends on who you are and where you are in life. I'm just not there yet. Despite the richness and flavor of certain sections of the novel, I couldn't ignore the painful awkwardness long enough to properly enjoy what I was reading.

Anyway, on to the plot!

La Cucina follows and is narrated by Rosa Fiore, a farmer's daughter from the Italian countryside. Rosa is a talented and passionate cook, and her knack for the culinary arts introduces and sustains food throughout the novel as a medium for her self-expression and emotional catharsis (hence the similarity to Like Water For Chocolate). As a teenager, she falls in love with Bartolemeo, the son of a Mafioso who has already been promised to another by his father. Though Bartolomeo loves Rosa in kind, their romance comes to a tragic end, which results in a grief-stricken Rosa exiling herself first to her kitchen and later to the city of Palermo where she lives and works as a librarian. It is only years later in her life, after she has resigned herself to a loveless existence and grown fat on the richness of her cooking, that she meets an Englishman (who is referred to only as "L'inglese"--literally "the Englishman"--throughout the novel) who makes her discover not only the full extent of the pleasures of food, but also the pleasures of the body.

But, of course, love can't last. More disaster strikes and, in the wake of yet another loss, Rosa returns to her hometown where family drama (including a who's-the-daddy twist) awaits her. Despite this, though, the novel ends on an optimistic note, leaving Rosa's future happiness up for the reader to imagine.

The awkward handling of sex as a theme in La Cucina wasn't exactly my only problem with the novel. The characters feel more like caricatures, lacking depth and originality. Though the story was decent, the narrative was sadly lacking. I generally wouldn't recommend it, but if you're determined to read it, be aware that there is a good deal of strong language used, as well as a few relatively explicit sex scenes.

The tagline of the title is "A Novel of Rapture". Sorry, Lily Prior. I really wasn't feeling it with this one.

Book 4: The Nonesuch by Georgette Heyer

2009-07-15T23:19:00.000-07:00

No matter what people say about judging books by their covers and all of that, I will be the first to admit that books with attractive covers are the first to catch my eye and, more often than not, the ones I end up buying. I like bright colors and creative color schemes and evocative imagery; those are the principle characteristics of the covers of best-sellers like The Time Traveler's Wife (Audrey Niffenegger), The Alchemist (Paulo Coelho), and--yes, I'll admit it--Stephenie Meyer's Twilight that I have noticed, purchased, and enjoyed. As a result, it's actually become general (though mostly un-acknowledged) policy for me to literally judge books by their covers. True, it's a pretty prejudiced habit, but it's one that's actually proven trusty over the years so I generally follow it.

So when my librarian-friend, Sarah, stuck a copy of The Nonesuch in my hands, I was a bit apprehensive. "Funny-looking regency dude in front of shrubbery" isn't exactly my idea of awesome cover material. Still, Sarah has dependable literary taste, and she seemed so enthusiastic that I just had to read it.

This ended up being one of those reading experiences that make me perhaps maybe sort of consider changing my position on books with fugly covers. "Perhaps," I begin to think to myself, "maybe I should stop going only for the pretty books, because if I'd stuck hard and fast to the rule, I would have never read this piece!"

The Nonesuch is one of those books that you (or, well, I) enjoy not because of any depth or profundity of subject matter, but because it has fabulous wit and style. And because it was written by Georgette Heyer (an extremely prolific writer from the 1900s who is known both for her creation of the Regency England Romance genre and for her extremely well-researched books). If you've run out of Jane Austen books and are feeling the pinch of Regency Withdrawal Syndrome, nothing could possibly serve as a better fix than Heyer's 50+ novels (except, perhaps, Austenland by Shannon Hale for it is in fact a CURE for Regency Addiction). I digress. Basically, the woman was a total beast (and I mean that, of course, in a good way).

Back to the novel, plot first. The Nonesuch takes place in the Yorkshire countryside during (as you might have guessed) the British Regency Era. The plotline receives it's first push from a dead relative's bequeathment of his country property, Broom Hall, upon the already well-landed Sir Waldo Hawkridge, who is in fact the Nonesuch himself (for there is none such as him! Oh-ho! Clever!). Sir Waldo is "of the Corinthian set", a "top o' the trees" sort of gent, and a bona-fide "pink of the Ton"--basically a bunch of crazy Regency terms used to describe his good breeding and general social admirability.

At any rate, Sir Waldo and his cousin Lord Julian Lindeth set off to the countryside to investigate this property that Waldo has been given. The news of Waldo's intended visit to Yorkshire precedes him and causes a considerable stir among the locals, and his arrival at Broom Hall kicks off a flurry of social activity in the area--a series of balls and dinners and parties all put together for the purpose of impressing and perhaps ensnaring the ever-sought-after Nonesuch.

Aside from Lindeth and Waldo, the other principle characters are two lovely ladies: Miss Theophania (Tiffany) Weild, heiress, and her governess-companion, Miss Ancilla Trent [Ancilla is such a cool name]. In short, Tiffany is the underaged heir to a considerable fortune who lives with her paternal Aunt Underhill at Staples Manor. She is also very beautiful, headstrong, hideously selfish, and manipulative, and the only one who can keep her under a semblance of control is the cool, collected Miss Trent.

Over the course of Sir Waldo's tenure at Broom Hall, he and his cousin meet Tiffany and Ancilla on many occasions, and due to Lindeth's infatuation with the lovely Tiffany, Waldo and Ancilla end up spending a great deal of time together. This and that happen and, as one can guess, love can indeed bloom as late in life as at the absolutely decrepit age of twenty-six (ha ha ha).

The Nonesuch was fabulously entertaining. Because of her wealth of knowledge on the Regency Era, Georgette Heyer's writing rings very true in terms of grammar, style, and vocabulary. Her use of ye olde school cant/language doesn't feel forced or fake like it tends to in a lot of other novels of the same type. And, above and beyond that, she just really knows how to use said language to create bitingly sarcastic characters (and, oh, but don't I love tongue-in-cheek humor!). Such fun!

I wouldn't call Georgette Heyer's works "classics"--they're not about to be taught in an English class or anything--but in terms of style and authenticity I'd say they're on par with a lot of the well-known Era stuff. And they're fun, to boot!

Positively anyone can read The Nonesuch, and if you are at all into BritLit and romance and witty banter, you most definitely should!

Life Update

2009-06-28T00:15:00.001-07:00

It's incredibly hot in my house, and the only thing that's saving me from boiling alive is the fact that my fan is running on full blast and both my windows are open. It's midnight, and even though it's cooled down substantially outside, the walls of the house retain heat like no other.

I shouldn't complain, though, because I prefer this heat to the wussy, luke-warm weather we've been experiencing lately. If there is any local evidence for global warming, I'd think it would be the ridiculous winds and rain that we had as recently as last week. Honestly, do I live in California or don't I? Sunshine, please, any day!

I went for a run this morning with my dad and basically got my butt handed to me by my old man (who is turning fifty and can still literally outstrip me with minimal effort). I have a long way to go. To be fair, though, it was hot as hell outside and the hills we were running were ridiculous.

Yummmm. Pie is delicious, especially when it comes from Marie Calendar's. Pie digests happily as I sit in bed and update and consider reading or sleeping. The computer is too hot to keep on my lap. Too hot, I say!

[Carol, you demanding thing, I wrote this because of YOU.]

Book 3: The Homecoming By Shashi Warrier

2009-06-23T23:55:00.001-07:00

The Homecoming sat on my bookshelf at college for six months collecting dust along with the other 15+ books I foolishly took with me to school thinking I would actually have time to read. I felt bad for not reading many (any) of them, but I felt extra-contrite about not reading this one for two reasons: 1) Because my dad gave me this book, and 2) Because the author is a good family friend of ours.

When I was a kid, Shashi Warrier (Shashi Uncle in our home) used to bring me drafts of his latest work in progress, the most memorable of which was a children's book by the name ofSuzy's Gift. With this and the several other novels he has written since, however, it is clear that Warrier has moved out of the whimsical (though greatly entertaining) sphere of kid's lit and into more grave and thought-provoking subject matter.

The Homecoming revolves around Javed Sharif, a rug-merchant, returning home to Srinagar, Kashmir for his elderly father's birthday. After a lifetime of working to support his family, Javed looks forward to retiring soon in his beloved hometown in spite of the violent wartime that has begun to make itself known in Kashmir. He is, at the onset of the novel, quite satisfied with his lot in life; he is fairly successful as a businessman, his three children (sons Irfan and Fawzi, and daughter Razia) are grown, and his relationship with his family is satisfactory. Javed surveys his life's work and perceives a job well done.

His peace, however, is disturbed when he and his younger son Irfan are arrested under suspected involvement with and sympathies for a brutal terrorist organization. This event, which occurs some twenty or thirty pages into the novel, kick-starts the action and drives the story to a desperate, wrenching ending. After a night in the local lock-up, Javed is released and cleared of all suspicion while his son is kept in detention. Though he knows it will cost him his retirement, Javed resolves to spend as much time and money as is needed to get Irfan out of prison. In a tale of pain, sacrifice, betrayal, and loss, Javed watches what he thought was a sturdy, healthy family life fall apart and, in a manner reminiscent of Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman, suddenly finds himself without anything.

To me, this book epitomizes the sentiment of having the rug yanked out from under your feet. We begin with a settled, happy protagonist and end with a wholly different picture. Warrier does an excellent job of painting both portraits, and of illustrating the series of events that brings the characters from one to the other. He handles the matter of Irfan's guilt beautifully and, while never giving the answer outright, puts out enough choice pieces of information to provide the reader with a clear verdict by the end of the novel. He presents the reader with not just the story of a family, but also the story of a country at odds with itself and its people.

The Homecoming spares no details, no matter how harrowing they might be, and leaves the reader with a startlingly honest picture of not only the Kashmir conflict, but also of the brutal potential, the irony, and the unyielding force of human nature.

It was a slow read almost until the end, so don't go for this one expecting an action thrill of any kind. Because it was measured in pace, the plot allowed for a great deal of contemplation and speculation on the part of the reader. This is one I definitely recommend for older audiences, perhaps 16+, simply due to the heavy/dense subject matter. However, if you are a particularly precocious reader, nothing should stop you from reading this wonderfully moving, evocative novel.

Book 2: Q&A by Vikas Swarup

2009-06-15T20:17:00.000-07:00

Q&A by Vikas Swarup is the novel that served as the inspiration for Slumdog Millionaire, and after being thoroughly impressed by the film I decided that I had to read the book for myself.

I generally find myself unimpressed by the book-to-movie conversion; one or the other almost always disappoints, depending on which medium I was exposed to first. However I found the novel just as impressive as the movie, and whileI can't say that I liked the novel more (though, usually, I do prefer novels to their film incarnations) I can say that I really enjoyed them quite equally. The Q&A-to-Slumdog translation put out a product that, while retaining the fundamental and important elements of the story, deviated enough from the plot and feel of Q&A that it could be considered a different animal entirely--a relative, but not necessarily offspring of the founding novel.

But this isn't a review of Slumdog.

So I'll go back to focusing on Q&A.

Q&A is about impoverished waiter Ram Mohammad Thomas (known as Jamal Malik in Slumdog Millionaire) and his life in the slums and chawls of Mumbai and Delhi. When we first meet him, Ram Mohammad Thomas (RMT for short from here on out) is in prison on suspicion of cheating while competing on the TV game show "Who Will Win A Billion?" (a fictitious offshoot of "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?"). It is my personal opinion that the reader learns most of what there is to know about RMT in those first few pages that take place in the

prison. Like in the movie, the questions on the game show serve as the mechanisms for the flashbacks that tell RMT's life story. Through each chronologically displaced episode we get one more piece to the puzzle and learn, in time, what has driven RMT to be on the game show in the first place.

There is no one clear genre for this novel. It is a thriller in some senses, a romance in others, and certainly a tragedy and an epic. Unlike the film, Q&A focuses much less on the love story and much more on...everything else. We get a much clearer picture of RMT's early years and the events that shaped him and his ideals. The novel is at once satisfying to the desire for a happy ending and at the same time brutally, unsettlingly honest.

Reading the novel restores protagonist Ram Mohammad Thomas/Jamal to his place as a first-person narrator and, in doing so, added on all kinds of hilarious wit and snark to the narrative that hadn't been there in the film. I love nothing btter than a snarky protagonist, and Ram Mohammad Thomas's voice is especially well-written. It forced a wide range of emotional reactions; I laughed a lot, got angry frequently. If I were the type to cry during books, I might've cried. The story comes in wide, sweeping arcs that make the book easy to devour in just one sitting and impossible to tear yourself away from.

As an Indian-American woman, I love Q&A for its honesty and its frank portrayal of India, complete with all of her strengths and weaknesses. There is so much that is wrong with India. But, at the same time, there is so much that is right.

I recommend this as a 12+ book, with a warning for language, violence, and mild sexual content. (But I still think everyone should read it!)

Book 1: Towing Jehovah by James Morrow

2009-06-13T17:17:00.000-07:00

Allow me to first put it out there that James Morrow is a freaking genius. I mean, really. A genius.

Now that you know that, allow me to explain the premise of this phenomenal novel:

God--that is, the bearded white male of the Bible--has died, and His body has fallen into the Atlantic Ocean. Supertanker captain Anthony Van Horne is called in by none other than the agents of the Vatican to tow the Corpus Dei (the Vatican's name for God's body) to His grave in the Arctic. Along the way, Van Horne has a host of difficult (and oft hilarious) obstacles to overcome, including a mutinous crew of sexually liberated pagans, off-site saboteurs, and his own personal baggage.

I don't know where he pulls this stuff from, but James Morrow has it going on. His work is irreverent and hysterically sacrilegious. I was hooked just by reading the back cover.

The action in this book comes in peaks and lulls, which affords the characters time to develop outside of emergency/panic situation (which, believe me, there are a lot of). It's well-paced, and written in this great tongue-in-cheek manner that I can't help but adore.

I think what really got my attention with this novel was the manner in which Morrow manages to address a whole range of views on religion. His characters include an ordained Catholic priest, a spiritually lost Jew, and a (literally) militant atheist. Morrow toys with religion, and manipulates it in ways that force us to look at it (and its agendas) from unique angles. His writing neatly side-steps irritating religion-bashing nonsense and skips right to the good stuff--the satire that, as it thumbs its nose at the religious establishment, provides an analysis of that establishment. This is something we rarely see, in literature or otherwise.

I would happily recommend this book to everyone I know. It's explicit, though, in a lot of ways (sexually liberated pagans. 'nuff said), so I'll put it out there as a 14+ novel instead.

A Statement of Purpose

2009-06-13T16:49:00.000-07:00

I have been inspired by The Julie/Julia Project. This lovely bit of blogging has been turned into a film starring Meryl Streep and Amy Adams, which promises to be adorable (see the pictures). In brief, Julie of The Julie/Julia Project did the brilliant thing of taking a goal and turning it into a fun, humorous blog. I'll admit it--the only reason I know about the blog is because, yes, I saw a commercial for the movie (cop-out, I know). I wish I'd even been conscious of the scope of the Blogger Universe when this particular blog was up and running, but alas I was an Internet toddler at the time (I may as well have still been wearing Pull-Ups and velcro-belt shoes).

But I digress.

Coming home this summer from college, I realized that the number of books I'd read over the course of the school year just for fun totaled up to a grand ZERO. And there were still so many books on my bookshelf that I had yet to read. More than half of the books I own, in fact, are still waiting to be read. And that, my friends, is a crying shame.

There are nine weeks of summer left. I'm going to get through as many of these puppies as I can.

I tried desperately to come up with a cool name for my project--something catchy, interesting, representative. But I've got nothing at the moment. So, for the time-being, we'll leave it nameless. Never fear, though. I'll come up with something soon.