Last week, as part of National Library Week, the ALA released the 2013 list of the 10 most challenged books.
In order of most challenged...
#1 Captain Underpants series (published 1997-present)
#2 Bluest Eye (1970)
#3 The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian (2007)
#4 Fifty Shades of Grey (2011)
#5 The Hunger Games (2008)
#6 A Bad Boy Can Be Good for a Girl (2006)
#7 Looking for Alaska (2005)
#8 The Perks of Being a Wallflower (1999)
#9 Bless Me Ultima (1972)
#10 Bone comic book series (1991-2004)
See other years' top-10 lists or read a little more about this year's list.
If you didn't get a chance to fully appreciate National Library Week by visiting a local library last week, take an opportunity sometime in the future to check out one or more of these books as a sign of support for your library's decision to carry them. We can support the freedom to read every day, and every week, not just BBW and NLW!
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
Sunday, March 30, 2014
The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexander Dumas
I followed the book with interest, but little thought or judgment, until Dantes' vengeful plans began to be revealed to the reader. While I really enjoyed seeing how Dantes would avenge his wrongs (the elaborate impersonations, the network of friends and compatriots carefully curated solely to exact revenge), I was pretty quickly struck by his playing God. Why does he get to decide their fates? Didn't his own experience with others unfairly commanding his future teach him anything?
Thankfully, for both myself and Dumas' moral and God-fearing readers at the time, Dantes did realize his fault, even sparing the life of one enemy. And it wasn't a sudden feeling of remorse or change of heart--which I think would have felt too cheap--but the incidental death of a child that woke him from the automatic pilot of complete devastation to all.
The relationship between Dantes and Haydee is the one part of the novel I didn't enjoy. His love of the young girl surprised me, because I took him as a only-love-Mercedes kind of guy. The romantic in me wanted him to be devoted to her, although I understood his coolness and yet absolute compassion for her, which was necessary for the advancement of his character from a wronged, heartsick man to a worldly, manipulative Count. All that aside, I still don't get where Haydee fits. Dantes' revelation of being in love with her seemed as unexpected to him as to me, which didn't fit the way the novel tended to allude to things as they developed. And then there's the way they come to their realize they're in love with each other: some sort of middle school s/he thinks s/he doesn't like me, can you believe it, can it be true? And this conversation is even facilitated through another person, so it might as well have been middle school. Why did his second love have to be assisted? Why weren't they mature about their relationship? Why wasn't the novel more gratuitous with their growing relationship? It's such a small part of the book that I can hardly get hung up on it--and I certainly don't strongly judge the book for this reason--but I did find it worth noting.
A final note, I highly approve of the sentiment of the ending, which is about the bigger picture over all, and certainly the lesson that Dantes learned as a prisoner, as a vengeful man, and as a lover: '[A]ll human wisdom is contained in these two words: wait and hope.'
Friday, February 28, 2014
Millennium Trilogy - Stieg Larsson
Can I just start by saying, This series has the best damn audiobooks I've ever listened to, and I don't even care that the bolded sentence within this sentence ends in a preposition. It's that damn fantastic. Thank you, thank you Stieg Larsson and Simon Vance. I could not stop listening!
A couple people who have read the books told me they thought this would be hard as an audiobook. I presume listening to someone speak about the gruesome rapes and murders would be worse than reading them--you can always skip over uncomfortable parts when you can see the words to know when you're in the clear. However, it didn't particularly bother me. Was it easy? Of course not.
But one benefit outweighed that negative: Listening to the books produced the distinct advantage that I didn't have to guess, or just ignore, the names of persons, places, and things that I couldn't pronounce. It was fabulous!
Something else about the audiobooks that I enjoyed? The reader doing different voices for the characters. That can be kitschy and annoying rather than helpful. But these books were so dialogue-heavy that simply reading the text without tonal clues as to who was speaking, would have produced some confusion for the listener. Simon Vance is a master, and I could not only recognize the different voices for the main characters, I honestly was not distracted by the variety. It felt almost like listening to a TV show, but was less jarring than the books that include different readers for the different characters.
Now, a quick word on the books themselves: Compelling. Literally, if I only had one word, that would be it. This is a damn compelling story.
These were a whirlwind of twists and turns. Some things I never saw coming. Others I thought would happen but did not. Uh, Lisbeth's twin, anyone? Where is she! The characters were familiar by the end of the third book, but not so familiar that the plots were entirely predictable. I love the extremely despicable bad guys and the flawed but loyal good guys. They were easy to hate, easy to like, and most importantly: easy to judge. I felt the books required a lot of passing judgment or assessing others' judgments was an integral part of the book for the reader. No one was perfect--even Blomkvist who oddly never abandoned Lisbeth had his downfalls with the womanizing. Where did Harriet Vanger go, by the way? She just disappeared. Is that one of the other women he referenced toward the end of the third book? And did he stay in love (so very out of character) with that muscular woman? Also in the world of loose ends: whatever happened with Hacker Republic? Did they just leave Sweden one day? These sorts of soft endings and ghost-like characters may have been answered in later books (almost undoubtedly would have, actually).
One thing I did not do while listening, surprisingly, was question the legitimacy or the reality of anything happening in the books. Realistic? Hardly. But it didn't bother me, and I assume it's because how, for lack of a better word, real the characters were in contrast to their amazing skills and situations.
I do so wish this series had made it to the 10 planned books. We're definitely suffering a loss with Larsson's death.
This is a must-experience audio series. Get to it! And if you've already read the books but would consider rereading them, pick audiobook instead for a likely different but highly enjoyable experience.
A couple people who have read the books told me they thought this would be hard as an audiobook. I presume listening to someone speak about the gruesome rapes and murders would be worse than reading them--you can always skip over uncomfortable parts when you can see the words to know when you're in the clear. However, it didn't particularly bother me. Was it easy? Of course not.
But one benefit outweighed that negative: Listening to the books produced the distinct advantage that I didn't have to guess, or just ignore, the names of persons, places, and things that I couldn't pronounce. It was fabulous!
Something else about the audiobooks that I enjoyed? The reader doing different voices for the characters. That can be kitschy and annoying rather than helpful. But these books were so dialogue-heavy that simply reading the text without tonal clues as to who was speaking, would have produced some confusion for the listener. Simon Vance is a master, and I could not only recognize the different voices for the main characters, I honestly was not distracted by the variety. It felt almost like listening to a TV show, but was less jarring than the books that include different readers for the different characters.
Now, a quick word on the books themselves: Compelling. Literally, if I only had one word, that would be it. This is a damn compelling story.
These were a whirlwind of twists and turns. Some things I never saw coming. Others I thought would happen but did not. Uh, Lisbeth's twin, anyone? Where is she! The characters were familiar by the end of the third book, but not so familiar that the plots were entirely predictable. I love the extremely despicable bad guys and the flawed but loyal good guys. They were easy to hate, easy to like, and most importantly: easy to judge. I felt the books required a lot of passing judgment or assessing others' judgments was an integral part of the book for the reader. No one was perfect--even Blomkvist who oddly never abandoned Lisbeth had his downfalls with the womanizing. Where did Harriet Vanger go, by the way? She just disappeared. Is that one of the other women he referenced toward the end of the third book? And did he stay in love (so very out of character) with that muscular woman? Also in the world of loose ends: whatever happened with Hacker Republic? Did they just leave Sweden one day? These sorts of soft endings and ghost-like characters may have been answered in later books (almost undoubtedly would have, actually).
One thing I did not do while listening, surprisingly, was question the legitimacy or the reality of anything happening in the books. Realistic? Hardly. But it didn't bother me, and I assume it's because how, for lack of a better word, real the characters were in contrast to their amazing skills and situations.
I do so wish this series had made it to the 10 planned books. We're definitely suffering a loss with Larsson's death.
This is a must-experience audio series. Get to it! And if you've already read the books but would consider rereading them, pick audiobook instead for a likely different but highly enjoyable experience.
Sunday, February 9, 2014
Liminal in the Kitchen
In undergrad, I developed a love of the liminal space as a sexual arena. The "liminal space" being a transitional location, something of a grey area. For most of my last years and my brief stint in grad school (and really still today) the most enticing liminal space, for me, has been nature. Gardens, barns, forests, you name it—nature is sexy and literature proves it. Tess of the d'Urbervilles, Jane Eyre, and Lady Chatterley's Lover all include characters that let their guards down in the leafy greens. (For the record, it's not just sexually charged acts that occur in nature; sexual descriptors and adjectives are also very common when encountering or describing nature.)
Now, I'm a big fan of Downton Abbey, like many Anglophiles, and this season has me interested in liminal spaces yet again! Not just the great outdoors—although there was some groping on a bench and touching in a pig pen very recently—but also the kitchen!
I'd love, love, love to re-watch all the seasons and note the liminal spaces that show up, and how the differences or similarities in such spaces also include class. I think there is a brilliant article somewhere in there.
Thursday, January 23, 2014
So I started Anne of Green Gables
This girl is the most annoying character I think I've ever encountered. Seriously! She's worse than all those horrible people in The Great Gatsby!
Is this supposed to be some satirical rendering of Romantic literature, a la Jane Austen? Because I feel like I'm trapped inside the YA alternative to Mysteries of Udolpho. But worse, because there's no mystery and it's short. This is vaguely what I think Little Women must be like, but with less attractive characters.
What also scares me is that, if I had read this in my youth (about age 11 much like Anne), I probably would have developed a knack for hyperbole and flowery language even more than I was already prone to do with my incessant poetry writing.
Oh, the tragedy! Anne would approve of what she's putting me through right now.
Is this supposed to be some satirical rendering of Romantic literature, a la Jane Austen? Because I feel like I'm trapped inside the YA alternative to Mysteries of Udolpho. But worse, because there's no mystery and it's short. This is vaguely what I think Little Women must be like, but with less attractive characters.
What also scares me is that, if I had read this in my youth (about age 11 much like Anne), I probably would have developed a knack for hyperbole and flowery language even more than I was already prone to do with my incessant poetry writing.
I can't decide if it's better or worse that I'm encountering Anne of Green Gables as an audiobook. I'm not sure if it's better that I'm listening to it (less effort than to have to read her stupid wandering commentary, which I actually probably wouldn't do) or worse because I have to hear the whiny insipid annoyance.
Oh, the tragedy! Anne would approve of what she's putting me through right now.
Thursday, January 16, 2014
Web Whoops
I know it's hard to get things out quickly with hot hot news--like today's Oscar announcements--but it still is embarrassing to publish mistakes on timely stories, like this Huff Post "TK" that leads the second paragraph (among others).
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Panic at Pemberley is right!
Now, I just stumbled across this article "Now panic comes to Pemberley: Pride and Prejudice director fears backlash from fans." First of all, well-done with the catchy article title related to the book. Secondly, you're damn straight there should be some concerns. Janeites did not like the book, do you think they'd like the movie? No. But do I think the movie will be better than the book? It has to be.
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Let's Talk About James Bond
I'm disappointed in Barnes and Noble. Their recent post "The Most (In)Famous Mary Sues in Fiction" has garnered a lot of scorn from me.
First of all, Mary Sue is basically an idealized character, often one representing the author. Prime example by the author:
The blogger leads off with James Bond. A fairly legitimate choice, since he's definitely perfect in every way.
No. No. No. I'm disgusted by this synopsis.
Casanova? Sure. ROBOT? Hardly. He keeps a cool head, as she says, because that's what he's trained to do. That is his job. So what if he's mad successful with the ladies - he's hardly the only character in fiction to do that (uh, helloooo, you just named Casanova. And what about Don Juan? eh eh?). Also: BOND'S WIFE GETS KILLED. Yeah, so, he can't always get what he wants.
Bond doesn't play football, so he can't get hit in the nuts. However, did you read or see Casino Royale? The man's balls were beaten to a pulp, to the point that he really believed he would never get an erection again. I think that counts. Plus, he gets violently, physically abused in almost every book/movie. He's not running around, saving the world without a scratch. Now, if you wanted to critique how he knows how to operate any kind of vehicle ever, I could see why that's a bit of a stretch...
He won't shout at a barista because he would never lower himself to drink coffee from Starbucks, he has his own coffeemaker at home, and he eats/drinks at the work cafeteria when in the office, and I'm fairly certain his coffee order wasn't complicated to begin with. Finally, he's a true gentleman that doesn't shout at someone serving him. Let's be real, here, people. Bond doesn't squash the little people (they hardly exist in his world) - his secretary is a perfect example.
I feel like this was written based on faint (very faint) idea of the film version of Bond and absolutely no clue as to the true fictional nature of the man - and that's coming from someone who has only read three or four of the books.
I'm also really annoyed that, if the idea of the Mary Sue is based on the AUTHOR becoming the perfect character, the author is missing from this particular writeup. There has been so much speculation (and so much published) about the life of Fleming (womanizing and secret wartime spy) and the spies he worked with and/or wrote about, the whole "Mary Sue" part of the argument is lost. Sure, sure, that might be guessing at authorial intent and assuming so many of the things about the author, but, in theory, the Mary Sue involves the author. So, instead of a well-thought argument, this blogger is just basically picking on the characters.
I briefly glanced at the rest of the list, disagreeing that Charles Wallace is at all a Mary Sue, because he clearly isn't perfect, otherwise they wouldn't have to save him. Not to mention, if you're going to pick on Charles Wallace, you should probably pick on Old Father Time from Jude the Obscure, too.
First of all, Mary Sue is basically an idealized character, often one representing the author. Prime example by the author:
Fanfic Mary Sue saves Dumbledore’s life with the world’s greatest healing charm, is proposed to by Mr. Darcy AND Captain Wentworth at the same garden party, and possesses striking green eyes that Peeta Mellark can’t stop staring into.Good topic! Great example! I love this idea. There are definitely plenty of appalling MarySues around. The blogger mentions the following list is comprised of MarySues in published fiction (not fan fiction). Okay, still on board.
The blogger leads off with James Bond. A fairly legitimate choice, since he's definitely perfect in every way.
If Casanova mated with a particularly ruthless robot, their child would be James Bond. He’s refined, clever, mad successful with the ladies, and able to keep a cool head in any situation. Just once we want to see Bond getting hit in the nuts with a football, or yelling at a Starbucks barista about soy milk.
No. No. No. I'm disgusted by this synopsis.
Casanova? Sure. ROBOT? Hardly. He keeps a cool head, as she says, because that's what he's trained to do. That is his job. So what if he's mad successful with the ladies - he's hardly the only character in fiction to do that (uh, helloooo, you just named Casanova. And what about Don Juan? eh eh?). Also: BOND'S WIFE GETS KILLED. Yeah, so, he can't always get what he wants.
Bond doesn't play football, so he can't get hit in the nuts. However, did you read or see Casino Royale? The man's balls were beaten to a pulp, to the point that he really believed he would never get an erection again. I think that counts. Plus, he gets violently, physically abused in almost every book/movie. He's not running around, saving the world without a scratch. Now, if you wanted to critique how he knows how to operate any kind of vehicle ever, I could see why that's a bit of a stretch...
He won't shout at a barista because he would never lower himself to drink coffee from Starbucks, he has his own coffeemaker at home, and he eats/drinks at the work cafeteria when in the office, and I'm fairly certain his coffee order wasn't complicated to begin with. Finally, he's a true gentleman that doesn't shout at someone serving him. Let's be real, here, people. Bond doesn't squash the little people (they hardly exist in his world) - his secretary is a perfect example.
I feel like this was written based on faint (very faint) idea of the film version of Bond and absolutely no clue as to the true fictional nature of the man - and that's coming from someone who has only read three or four of the books.
I'm also really annoyed that, if the idea of the Mary Sue is based on the AUTHOR becoming the perfect character, the author is missing from this particular writeup. There has been so much speculation (and so much published) about the life of Fleming (womanizing and secret wartime spy) and the spies he worked with and/or wrote about, the whole "Mary Sue" part of the argument is lost. Sure, sure, that might be guessing at authorial intent and assuming so many of the things about the author, but, in theory, the Mary Sue involves the author. So, instead of a well-thought argument, this blogger is just basically picking on the characters.
I briefly glanced at the rest of the list, disagreeing that Charles Wallace is at all a Mary Sue, because he clearly isn't perfect, otherwise they wouldn't have to save him. Not to mention, if you're going to pick on Charles Wallace, you should probably pick on Old Father Time from Jude the Obscure, too.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)