A Wrinkle in Time: The Graphic Novel by Hope Larson

I was really excited when I first read that this book was coming out. I enjoyed the graphic novels I've previously read--especially the young adult ones in my college courses--and I thought this seemed like a fun classic to reconstruct. I also have extremely fond memories of my seventh grade teacher reading Madeline L'Engle's book out loud to our class. Her standing at the board illustrating the concept of a wrinkle in time is something I may never forget. 

But for all the fondness I feel for it, the graphic book didn't do much for me. I picked up the book and read it in an hour: the illustrated format and sparse text (well, I mean, less than the original novel, and less than the last graphic book I read, Watchmen) kind of let me get as into it as I wanted. And at 11 pm on some Sunday night, it would appear that I did not want to think too hard. 

I'd forgotten most of the characters, but not all. I remembered the controlling brain character, the dad, and the two siblings. The others were new again. The problem was that I didn't feel like I really established a connection with the characters. So nothing seemed that important to me.

 Two siblings. Missing dad. Weird boy at school. Instant best friends. Fairy godmother like beings. Other worlds. No surprise. Conquer all. Save the world. Blah blah blah. 

It seemed to easy for a story with such a potentially powerful moral. Then again, it's a YA book, so maybe that's okay. Maybe that's how the original was, too. Oh, the original, which I now, of course, want to reread and reassess. Just another book on the to do list, which is moving at about the pace of George R. R. Martin writing his Song of Fire and Ice books--painfully and annoying slow. 

Illustrating the wrinkle in time.

Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn

The most interesting thing about reading this book was how fleeting of a book club conversation it produced. For the first time two of my book clubs (like, the two most opposite book clubs on the planet) covered the same book. And each time it produced a pithy conversation that didn’t last. Each question we asked ended with limited discussion. Although there were definitely different opinions, there weren’t exactly points to argue on or expand the discussion. It was more of a “What’d you think of this?” with a flurry of responses. Then done.

So, what did we talk about? Each book club meeting kicked off with the ending. My first group liked the ending (they deserve each other) the second group liked it less. Personally, I wanted one or both of them to end up dead. 

Next we talked about whether Nick or Amy were more likable to us as the reader. The group of women said neither and the mixed group seemed to fall on Nick. It seems that the second group really preferred the book before you found out the twist, found out about Amy’s plan. I don’t know that I agree. I think I felt equally disinterested-but-compelled-to-find-out-the-details via either narration. Neither character was likable, which also kind of made the book hard to read. However, there were parts of Nick and Amy (er, Diary Amy) that I did identify with. 

I connected with Nick because of his job loss. I am also a magazine writer and editor, and while reading this book my large publishing company was going through layoffs. I understood so many of the things that defined Nick, whether that was his commentary on the industry, his questioning the world around him, or just some of the ways Amy talked about him. I had thought of it all—to some degree—at some point, too. But my book wasn’t going to be War and Peace it was Anna Karenina and I was already diving into Twitter and other social media to become marketable.  

Passages about Nick:  

I'd arrived in New York in the late '90s, the last gasp of the glory days, although no one knew it then. New York was packed with writers, real writers, because there were magazines, real magazines, loads of them. This was back when the Internet was still some exotic pet kept in the corner of the publishing world-- throw some kibble at it, watch it dance on its little leash, oh quite cute, it definitely won't kill us in the night. Think about it: a time when newly graduated college kids could come to New York and get paid to write. We had no clue that we were embarking on careers that would vanish within a decade. I had a job for eleven years and then I didn't, it was that fast. All around the country, magazines began shuttering, succumbing to a sudden infection brought on by the busted economy. Writers (my kind of writers: aspiring novelists, ruminative thinkers, people whose brains don't work quick enough to blog or link or tweet, basically old, stubborn blowhards) were through. We were like women's hat makers or buggy- whip manufacturers: Our time was done. (4-5)

This litany of crummy jobs. (69) 

It seemed to me that there was nothing new to be discovered ever again. Our society was utterly, ruinously derivative (although the word derivative as a criticism is self derivative). We were the first human beings who would never see anything for the first time. We stare at the wonders of the world, dull-eyed, underwhelmed. Mona Lisa, the Pyramids, the Empire State Building. Jungle animals on attack, ancient icebergs collapsing, volcanoes erupting. I can’t recall a single thing I have seen firsthand that I didn’t immediately reference to a movie or TV show. A fucking commercial. … I’ve literally seen it all, and the worst thing, the thing that makes me want to blow my brains out, is: The secondhand experience is always better. The image is crisper, the view is keener, the camera angle and the soundtrack manipulate my emotions in a way reality can’t anymore. (72) 

I think that’s what it is, that it’s all happened at once, so I have the emotional bends. […] He makes a massive list of things he’s always meant to do...And then he starts on bigger stuff: He reads War and Peace. He flirts with taking Arabic lessons. He spends a lot of time trying to guess what skills will be marketable over the next few decades. (83)

Both groups agreed that Amy was the more interesting character, though. She was a brilliant, villainous mastermind that we were unsure why she was wasting all her talent on petty things like getting back at people. She was also the most inconsistent character. All of a sudden she decided he loved her so she loved him? How did she lose sight of everything, even for a brief time? Also, why did she EVER act the way she did and lose all her money to those two hicks? I know there’s "book" smart and "street" smart, but, damn, she should have both. One aside regarding Amy at both meetings was the idea that Amy felt so very relatable to women. I’m not sure that the older women in my first book club felt it as much, if they did they certainly were not as vocal, but the rest of us really felt connected to a lot of the ideas and things that Diary Amy talked about in regards to being a woman, dating, being single, and creating a relationship. A fact that real Amy would have loved and hated. 

Amy passages: 

I worry for a second that she wants to set us up: I am not interested in being set up. I need to be ambushed, caught unawares, like some sort of feral love- jackal. I'm too self-conscious otherwise. I feel myself trying to be charming, and then I realize I'm obviously trying to be charming, and then I try to be even more charming to make up for the fake charm, and then I've basically turned into Liza Minnelli: I'm dancing in tights and sequins, begging you to love me. There's a bowler and jazz hands and lots of teeth. (11) 

Give me a man with a little fight in him, a man who calls me on my bullshit. […] So I know I am right not to settle, but it doesn’t make me feel better as my friends pair off and I stay home on Friday night with a bottle of wine and make myself an extravagant meal and tell myself, This is perfect, as if I’m the one dating me. (29) 

I am happy not to be in that club. I don’t partake, I don’t get off on emotional coercion, on forcing Nick to play some happy-hubby role—the shrugging, cheerful, dutiful taking out the trash, honey! role. Every wife’s dream man, the counterpoint to every man’s fantasy of the sweet, hot, laid-back woman who loves sex and a stiff drink. (56)

Being the Cool Girl means I am a hot, brilliant funny woman who adores football, poker, dirty jokes, and burping, who plays video games, drinks cheap beer, loves threesomes and anal sex, and jams hot dogs and hamburgers into her mouth like she’s hosting the world’s biggest culinary gang bang while somehow maintaining a size 2, because Cool Girls are above all hot. Hot and understanding. Cool Girls never get angry; they only smile in a chagrined, loving maner and let their men do whatever they want. (222) 

I’d waited patiently—years—for the pendulum to swing the other way, for men to start reading Jane Austen, learn how to knit, pretend to love cosmos, organize scrapbook parties, and make out with each other while we leer. And then we’d say, “Yeah, he’s a Cool Guy.” But that never happened. … Pretty soon Cool Girl became the standard girl. … Every girl was supposed to be this girl, and if you weren’t, then there was something wrong with you. (223)

Other characters had brief turns. Tanner was a favorite character in my second book club, but I have to admit I don’t remember talking about him in the first group. The cops seemed shitty. Go was okay. At the first book club we spent a lot more time talking about just how creepy Desi was, and there was a definite sympathy for Amy in that position, even though everyone seemed to agree she deserved it. At the second meeting there was a dislike of Desi as a character, because he functioned more as a plot device than anything worthwhile. They also pointed out that Desi should have noticed how mutilated and bruised Amy was while he was busy keeping such tabs on her, and later kissing every inch of her body. Something like that, you think, would have stood out. Side note: I think in the movie he should be played by Javier Bardem.

There was also the quick whodunit conversation that each group had. As soon as someone asked, “Before you knew about Amy, who did you think did it?” A flurry of names and ideas and plots came out. Her parents. His dad. His sister. His girlfriend. Him. We all agreed we felt like we weren’t supposed to pick Nick because the book set him up so well, but it was hard not to wonder if he did it. No one really bought the Amy’s old friends/exes thing. Most people thought Amy was still alive, but didn’t get so far as to think that she had orchestrated the whole thing to make Nick look guilty.

We looked at portrayals of family and relationships, and each group agreed that there was no paragon that stood out against the rest. I didn’t get a sense that there was a right way and a wrong way to be a family or in a relationship—it seemed like it was all bad, so I don’t know what the commentary there would be. Stay single and avoid your family? Nick/Go and their mom seemed to have the best familial relationship. The award for best romantic relationship probably went to Tanner Bolt and his wife, and I don’t even remember much about them except that she was not white. Here’s a passage from Nick about his dad that I think is interesting because it actually has a slightly positive spin, perhaps because it’s about the father he invented.

… that after the divorce, I saw him so seldom that I decided to think of him as a character in a storybook. He was not my actual father—who would have loved me and spent time with me—but a benevolent and vaguely important figure named Mr. Brown, who was very busy doing very important things for the United States and who (very) occasionally used me as a cover to move more easily about town. (132) 

Feminism was brought up in the second club, but not at all in the first group (interesting, since that was the gathering of 10 women of various ages and life stages). I don’t know that we actually came up with any kind of theory—in fact, I know we didn’t—but it was still interesting. Where does this book fall in the grand scheme of feminism? Does this book really combat the stereotypical Lifetime movie? In a sense, yes, because the husband did not kill his wife, but he did cheat, and lie, and do a lot of other stuff that would look great in a Lifetime movie. And then there's the fact that Amy was (and there is no other way to say it) batshit crazy. So did she do anything to further the cause of the feminist? I don’t think so. I’m not sure what she did, and it’s an interesting theory to really explore (not one that I would dive into, because I don’t really do feminist critiques. I like talking about sex and nature).

We also talked a little about the construction. The diary format (one member noted that she didn’t even realize the chapters had titles related to time until a while into the book. I wonder if that’s part of reading on an e-reader, but I certainly did not miss that fact) was extremely effective and integral to the plot. I liked it. In its own way it was a big lesson on assuming authorial intent in writing—clearly what she wrote and what she thought were two very different things. Learn that lesson, young book nerds!

Nick was very aware of how he came off to the reader throughout the book. He talked to the reader, knowingly understanding his place with them.

I have a mistress. Now is the part where I have to tell you I have a mistress and you stop liking me. If you liked me to begin with. I have a pretty, young, very young mistress, and her name is Andie. (142) 

The older married man promptly exploited his position by launching a torrid fuckfest of an affair with one of his impressionable young students. I was the embodiment of every writer’s worst fear: a cliché. (145)

Amy had two personalities that the reader encountered, and she was very aware of both of those women as well.

I hope you liked Diary Amy. She was meant to be likable. Meant for someone like you to like her. She’s easy to like. I’ve never understood why that’s considered a compliment—that just anyone could like you. (237)

They have to read the diary like it’s some sort of Gothic tragedy. A wonderful, good-hearted woman—whole life ahead of her, everything going for her, whatever else they say about women who die—chooses the wrong mate and pays the ultimate price. They have to like me. Her. (238)

Finally, a little roundup of descriptive writing that I just adored in this book.

We’ll eat lobster with butter and have sex on the floor while a woman on one of our old jazz records sings to us in her far-side-of-the-tunnel voice. (40) 

But I do like a certain standard of living—I think it’s fair to say the garbage shouldn’t literally overflow, and the plates hsouldn’t sit in the sink for a week with smears of bean burrito dried on them. That’s just being a good grown-up roommate. (85) 

She had an unnecessarily loud voice, a bit of a bray, like some enchanted hot donkey. (94)

It was one of those big-smelling days, when people bring the outdoors in with them, the scent of rain on their sleeves, in their hair. (119)

I’d fallen in love with Amy because I was the ultimate Nick with her. Loving her made me superhuman, it made me feel alive. At her easiest, she was hard, because her brain was always working, working, working—I had to exert myself just to keep pace with her. I’d spend an hour crating a casual e-mail to her, I became a student of arcane so I could keep her interested: the Lake poets, the code duello, the French Revolution. Her mind was both wide and deep, and I got smarter being with her. (214) 

The woman’s entire music collection is formed from Pottery Barn compilations. (259) 

His cock is slick with conquest. (366)

Happy Anniversary Pride & Prejudice

Today marks the 200th anniversary of the publication of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. 

There is a read-a-thon at the Jane Austen Centre in Bath, as well as numerous other activities across the globe. [It's days like these where I miss college the most, knowing many of my English classes, and professors, would be celebrating in style.]

To celebrate this momentous occasion, I intend to read my Annotated Pride and Prejudice and make a post to this here blog. And I hope to rehash my undergrad lectures--women in literature, romance, british lit--and post something intelligent, not just a grouping of my favorite quotes. There is so much to say about this book: the woman who wrote it, the characters that evolved from it, and where it fits in education and literature.

The Hobbit by J. R. R. Tolkien

The Hobbit was first published in Sept 1937, and starting in 1951 changes in it were made to more closely align with The Lord of the Rings which he was writing. Changes continued into 1966, and the edition I read represents the closet to the final form, including Tolkien’s changes and corrections of misprints and errors (whatever that means. Apparently someone was playing Tolkien/god). Anyhoo, I was working with a 1994 printing.

          In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.

One of the most recognizable opening lines to a book. It’s simple and unpretentious. It’s not making you feel anything. Think anything. Ask any questions. It’s not evoking feelings. It’s not setting you up for an epic tale. It simply is. And that, I think, is the perfect way to start this unexpected journey.

          This hobbit was a very well-to-do hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses had lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is the story of how a Baggins had an adventure, and found himself doing any saying things altogether unexpected. (page 3-4)

This is a favorite description of mine in the book. The Baggins people are a predictable people. They have money and they are straight-laced. But then one Baggins wasn’t. The description, both the writing and the content, are so matter-of-fact. 

I suppose hobbits need some description nowadays, since they have become rare and shy of the Big People, as they call us. The are (or were) a little people, about half our height, and smaller than the bearded dwarves. Hobbits have no beards. There is little or no magic about them, except the ordinary everyday sort which helps them to disappear quietly and quickly when large stupid folk like you and me come blundering along, making a noise like elephants which they can hear a mile off. (4)

Well, now we know we’re stupid and big, and that we, not any of the other folk in the story, are the intended audience. I’m sure somewhere there is a whole slew of theory about the intended audience of The Hobbit, and how this is written in a way that influences how we perceive ourselves and other races. What’s Tolkien saying about man? And about other races? That is something we discussed at book club, although it was so long ago I don’t remember the outcome of the conversation. but we did discussion race and morality and how each is perceived on that scale. Also, importantly, the idea of ancestry. Both ancestry and race would be interesting pursue as themes and motifs. Races and even individual people do not get treated equally throughout the book. One character, say, Thorin, may receive a lot of history, as may his race, while another character may receive none at all. 

I am looking for someone to share in an adventure that I am arranging, and it’s very difficult to find anyone. (Gandalf)
I should think so – in these parts! We are plain quiet folk and have no use for adventures. Nasty disturbing uncomfortable things.  (Bilbo) (6)

I just love this. It made me smile. I have nothing else to say on the matter.

He charged the ranks and knocked their king Golimbul’s head clean off with a wooden club. It sailed a hundred yards through the air and went down a rabbit-hole, and in this way the battle was won and the game of Golf invented at the same moment. (17)

You clever man. I would like to know more about golf when Tolkien wrote this: Was it popular? New? Old? What caused him to throw this little bit in there, which the book could certainly do without. Also at book club we discussed the questionable intentions of Gandalf--both as a character toward other characters, and as a literary plot device. You kind of hate him, you know, disappearing at will and then showing up whenever he can save the day. Did he serve a larger purpose than to simply pull them out of bad situations and start the journey? I do not know. 

Now they rode away amid songs of farewell and good speed, with their hearts ready for more adventure … (51)

One of the many reasons I like The Hobbit more than LOTR: LOTR WOULD NOT HAVE ENDED LIKE THAT. THERE WOULD HAVE BEEN SO MANY SONGS THAT FOLLOWED.  I WOULD HAVE WANTED TO GOUGE MY EYES OUT.

There were many paths that led up to into those mountains, and many passes over them. But most of the paths were cheats and deceptions and led nowhere or to bad ends; and most of the passes were infested by evil things and dreadful dangers. (52)

The an apt description for a lot of things in life. Kind of reminds me of the Bible verse: “How narrow the gate and constricted the road that leads to life; and those who find it are few.”

You know how terrific a really big thunderstorm can be down in the land and in a river-valley; especially at times when two great thunderstorms meet and clash. More terrible still are thunder and lightening in the mountains at night, when storms came up from East and West and make war. The lightning splinters on the peaks, and rocks shiver, and great clashes split the air and go rolling and tumbling into every cave and hollow; and the darkness is filled with overwhelming noise and sudden light. (53)

Another great, relatable description that explains something almost mundane, but in  vivid terms. Also, an interesting comparison between war and storms.

There is nothing like looking, if you want to find something (or so Thorin said to the young dwarves). You certainly usually find something, if you look, but it is not always quite the something you were after. So it proved on this occasion.  (54)

Another truly Hobbit-like passage: Reading it you know it’s from this book, even if the part that names Thorin is removed. It’s so simple in thought and sentence construction.

The goblins began to sing, or croak, keeping time with the flap of their flat feet on the stone, and shaking their prisoners as well.

Clap! Snap! the black crack!
Grip, grab! Pinch, nab!
And down down to Goblin-town
You go, my lad! (56)

“Murders and elf-friends!” the Great Goblin shouted. “Slash them! Beat them! Bite them! Gnash them! Take them away to dark holes full of snakes, and never let them see the light again!” (60)

Lit nerd moment: totally geeked when I read these passages because they are very reminiscent of Christina Rossetti’s Goblin Market which is one of my favorite poems and pieces of Victorian literature.

Although I did not take the time to type out the passage, page 67 has the introduction to Gollum. Who, after experiencing in LOTR, was very interesting to meet for the first time, per se. 

“If ever you are passing my way,” said Bilbo, “don’t wait to knock! Tea is at four; but any of you are welcome at any time.” (262)

Such a different song he was singing than the beginning of the book, but an old-yet-new Bilbo offer indeed.

You are a very fine person, Mr. Baggins, and I am very fond of you; but you are only quite a little fellow in a wide world after all! (272)

Great thought to end on. Hope everyone gets a chance to read this at some point in life—it’s quick and easy, so there’s no excuse not to! 

Kristina's Book List: aka The Impossible to Compile, and More Impossible to Finish...

In Shakespeare: Texts and Contexts during the spring of 2007, my new friendship with one not-so-plain Jane--a college freshman of extraordinary English talents--proffered this book list. It includes 20 books, ranked 1 to 10, that the very well-read literary geek has given her stamp of approval. I've kept it with me, tacked on cork boards, stuck inside closet doors, and taped to folders. But now it's time to share this with the world.

1. anything by David Sedaris

2. The Eyre Affair by Jasper Fforde

3. Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami

4. On Beauty by Zadie Smith

5. The Sex Lives of Cannibals by J. Maarten Troost

6. The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy

7. Atonement and Saturday by Ian McEwan

8. Indecision by Benjamin Kunkel

9. The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera

10. Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides

11. Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving

12. Everything is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer

13. Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer

14. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chabon

15. The Corrections by Johnathan Lethem

16. Drop City by TC Boyle

17. You Shall Know or Velocity by Dave Eggers

18. A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers

19. The Hours by Michael Cunningham

10. Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy

Happy New Year!

"A woman has to live her life, or live to repent not having lived it."  -D. H. Lawrence

Well, I certainly don't want to repent, which is why I've been so damn busy living that I haven't been writing. But I resolve to be better about timely blogging. That's my plan for 2013. That and read more. Isn't that an English Major requirement? 

Hold me to it. 

Blog-Life Hiatus and the books that happened.

Let me half-heartedly apologize for not posting in quite a while. I went to England, my mecca of English Literature, to explore the world that I've fallen in love with while reading.

For that trip I had to read travel literature A Guide to Dickens' London by Daniel Tyler and Jane Austen in Bath: Walking Tours of the Writer's City by Katherine Reeve. Then, of course, I read Persuasion, Austen's novel about Bath, and I started Dickens' Bleak House, which begins with terrific descriptions of London.

But now I'm back, and fighting the good fight to fit reading time into the sleepy period between my two jobs. Yesterday afternoon I finished A Game of Thrones. I don't warrant it a blog review, because I didn't read it that way. I just wanted to read for reading's sake, and I think it was the perfect book for that. I like it a lot.

Next I move on to three book club picks: Telegraph Avenue by Michael Chabon, Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn, and Bring Up the Bodies by Hilary Mantel. Somewhere in there I would like to finish Bleak House. Lofty aspirations, but I intend to make up for lost time.

Happy Banned Books Week!

I set up a table at work to do a little light educating about banned books. It included a few boxes of cookies, a few Iowa-based banned/challenged book facts, and a list of the banned/challenged "Best 100" classics.

It was a hit! People really enjoyed grabbing their own list and realizing that they've read many of them. "I never knew I was so racy!" said a co-worker. Passers-by were also interested to find out that the last ALA-noted challenged book in Iowa was as recent as 2011. I overheard multiple people asking "I wonder what book that was." I know, it's not big. I know I'm not reaching the entire corporation. But it's something.