Chelsey Cosh's Blog: From Mind to Mouth - Posts Tagged "classics"
Turn It Up To Eleven.
Fine. You caught me. I broke the rules again.
May came and went so quickly. And June is a busy month for me, with a wedding and visits from relatives across the globe. I know I won't be getting in much reading, so I figured I should overcompensate this month.
So what did I do? I read for the fun of it.
Ooh, rebel without a cause. Not quite what James Dean intended, surely, but I'll take it.
This month I read X vs. Y: A Culture War, a Love Story . And it fits no prompt in the PopSugar reading challenge. Trust me. I scoured that list. Nothing. Nada. Zip. It was a quickie, in my defense, a comparative look at pop culture through the eyes of sisters with a fourteen-year age gap. Generation X is Eve Epstein who waxes on about Wham, bulky acrylic legwarmers, Saturday-morning cartoons, and auteur David Lynch and his Twin Peaks in her personal essays, while her sister Leonora Epstein who represents Generation Y was more my speed, rattling on about the profundity of Aqua, Tom Green, dating via text message and IM, and, one of my favourites, the book The Perks of Being a Wallflower . I especially appreciated the line of similarity she cuts through Rugrats , Buffy , and New Girl . It certainly captures the attention, even if only for a fleeting 190 pages.
I finished a writing style guide, too, The Sense of Style: The Thinking Person's Guide to Writing in the 21st Century , but I don't think that qualifies as cheating since I had read eighty percent of it before jumping into this crazy challenge. Tying up loose ends cannot possibly rate the same as diving into something new. It just can't.
Shortly after, I got out my good-girl pants and swore up and down to devote myself wholly to this challenge. In short, no more dicking around.
In total, I devoured eleven books, a whopping nine of which were challenge-applicable books. I hope that'll be enough to keep me on track. Crossing off any less than three books a month seems like a guaranteed derailment.
This month also offered a bounty of opportunities for perusal of other books that might fit the challenge. I skimmed both the novel Atonement and the non-fiction skewering of the Koch brothers in Dark Money: The Hidden History of the Billionaires Behind the Rise of the Radical Right . I'm not sure how whether or not I will use them to fulfill this reading challenge, but they seem like interesting reads nonetheless. If they don't fit a prompt, I will definitely go back to them, perhaps when I've shown this challenge who's boss.
(Me. I'm boss.)
So, here we are.
Book #13: A YA Bestseller
Last month, I read The DUFF: Designated Ugly Fat Friend , a book that arguably has one of the worst film adaptations, in which the only thing retained from its source material are the names of a handful of characters. Sincerely, the two are strangers, book isolated from and unfamiliar to the film it bred.
My sister is a fan of author John Green and I've been a fan of some of the webseries he's taken part in. (And he and his brother share, like, a whole Youtube channel together.) He's very charismatic, for sure. So, it was no surprise that she recommended I read The Fault in Our Stars . A massive international hit, the young adult juggernaut also sparked a film, which again, I have seen. Granted, I haven't seen the film in a little while, consuming it when it was released, but if memory serves me, The Fault in Our Stars was adapted very honestly, sticking to each word and outright copying whole sections of dialogue. It's a very faithful adaptation. There are little bits and pieces in the book that I don't recall from the film, passages that paint a slightly darker tone than the bittersweet love story told onscreen, but again, the gist is the same.
Unfortunately, that sours my experience a touch.
I already know every beat along this path. I know the destination and the journey. Alas, I was underwhelmed. I obviously don't blame the book. It was my choice to watch the film first.
I was just left with very little as a result.
Still, I understand the book's overwhelming popularity. It seems to be written honestly, too, spoken from a place of knowledge about cancer survival and all the details that that experience entails. The mumbo-jumbo doctors say and the reality of living it. Not to mention the vast differences between those suffering from it. The blind, the amputated, the deoxygenated. Those fighting to be well again and others fighting the incurable. I knew someone with cancer who was much older when I was too young to understand. Then, I knew someone else with cancer when I was much older and they were too young to understand. To be fair, I wasn't particularly close to either of them, but I knew them all the same, well enough to be let in on what was going on with them. Both thankfully went into remission.
I've never suffered the harsher realities of cancer or the devastating loss it produces. So, I can only imagine that what John Green wrote is accurate. I'd be willing to say it's right on the money. Why else has the world clasped hands in a circle around him?
I'm going to break away from John Green for a brief while, but I will return to him to fulfill another reading prompt. In fact, I'll be reading what my sister describes as her "least favourite John Green." Swell.
But speaking of men named John ...
Book #14: A book written by a celebrity
I mentioned last month jumping from actress Anjelica Huston's early Irish childhood tales of whim and woe, to the more slick and hopefully funny adventures in Hollywood of actor Jon Cryer. His book, So That Happened: A Memoir , is full of great anecdotes, both funny and tender little stories from different stages of his life.
I decided to do a little reading time between me and the husband-to-be. We've had quite a few laughs reading So That Happened. More importantly, though, it's not just salacious gossip about Hollywood denizens (although you do learn a few juicy factoids) or retellings of events from his vantage point. Rather it's a fun and enlightened recap of his life, from toddler to today, and it's written so honestly, conveying the emotions he experienced, that you feel closer to Jon. I really find it superbly written, especially considering Jon is not a writer by profession. It walks that tightrope between laugh riot and sincere feelings.
I'm glad I switched over. Sorry, Anjelica.
Book #15: A book that's set on an island
Cuba is an island. So, I read a classic novel about Cuban fisherman, a short one with a lot of promise. Ernest Hemingway published his novella The Old Man and the Sea in 1952, but it still reads well today, owing to that terse style. I'm not a big fan of fishing and that kind of lifestyle. Many do love that kind of thing, but I just don't fall into that category. So, reading this one was a bit of a trudge. Now, that being said, I think the writing style is great and I'm sure that, while I'm not one of them, people who love fishing are totally on board. Yes, yes, pardon the pun. However, the book was short, so I'd be damned if I wasn't going to see it through.
Which is funny because that obstinate brand of stick-to-it-ness is kind of the point of The Old Man and the Sea.
Thematically and symbolically, the book is a goldmine. Let's deal with the idea of endurance first. We all know a person's self-image can be degraded by the labels plastered to us by those who surround us. You have confidence in yourself, but that pride is melted away by the corrosive words of others. If you don't catch a fish for months, the other fisherman deem you too old to be in the game any longer. But the human spirit can defy these declarations. He is not just the "old man," but rather the great fisherman and arm-wrestling champion Santiago, and he aims to conquer the age discrimination against him by capturing a truly great fish in the sea. A marlin of epic proportions. The real thing. And I'm sure you can attach all sorts of meaning to that fish. For some, the fish represents Jesus. For others, the fish is symbolic of the meaning of life. Some argue it's the need for friendship and companionship; others look at it as a metaphor for pride and legacy. And I'm sure someone somewhere thinks the fish is Tupac. It's whatever you want really. Affix your end-all-be-all here. It's the big kahuna, whatever the kahuna is to you.
The Old Man and The Sea also describes the loneliness endured in this quest for survival, not just physical survival but the survival of one's dignity in the face of these judgments. Above all, though, perseverance is king, and Hemingway expertly demonstrates that, if at first you don't succeed, try again. You are never too old to do so.
Book #16: A book that's becoming a movie this year
As I read The Taliban Shuffle: Strange Days in Afghanistan and Pakistan for this prompt, all I could think was, "Holy shit, people. How much can you drop the ball?" Frankly, I thought I was going to read something more humourous, the more comedic side of war replete with shenanigans, especially considering the trailers I'd seen for Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, the film they made this year from the book. I mean, it's Tina Fey. You expect laughs. Yet The Taliban Shuffle is playing it straight and is more heartbreaking than sidesplitting.
Journalist Kim Barker was definitely in a weird place. She volunteered and became quickly and thoroughly addicted to the miserable existence of life as an embed in the U.S. troops in the wartorn Middle East. While most find India chaotic, Kim wrote how boring and normal it was, how desperate she was to get back in the action in Kabul.
Then, the government truly screwed up. Not like the minor mistakes she'd witnessed prior, she truly felt affected after a friend of hers dies and a person she'd never meant but knew a bit about is sent back out into Afghanistan way past their prime. With that, Kim decides to leave Afghanistan to investigate the other side of the mountain: Pakistan, or as she describes it, Whack-a-Stan.
In Pakistan, Kim encounters a new set of problems. For one, the men won't stop grabbing her ass. Secondly, she is being chased by the Pakistani intelligence agency ISI. Third, her foolish friend and fellow journalist decides to meet a high-profile insurgent in the tribal lands of Pakistan, a virtual no-man's-land where Westerners are kidnapped, held for ransom, and often killed. Then, her allergies and sinus problems to the polluted air send her back to the States for nasal surgery to remove polyps and, she hopes, fix the problem for good. Alas, while still in the States, she faces a new set of problems, both professional and personal, as the landscape of her workplace changes and she becomes a victim of identity fraud.
Full disclosure: I still have a couple chapters left, but I will still finish the book before the end of the month. Although it's not funny, it is very informative, and I feel I've learned quite a bit about life in the Middle East during the Bush administration. As someone who hates war films, war books, and, of course, the event that inspired it all, war, I had every reason not to like this book. And yet, I really did. So, even if you're just like me with an utter disdain for grenades and camo, The Taliban Shuffle still offers something worthwhile.
Book #17: A satirical book
It's great when a classic isn't overrated. Animal Farm , that famous satire of Russian communism, is really clever. It's short and sweet, like The Old Man and the Sea, but I enjoyed Animal Farm far more.
The animals represent the people longing for equality, as the capitalist-minded farmer, Mr. Jones, drunkenly uses, abuses, and ignores them. One day, after Mr. Jones forgets to feed them, the animals fight back and kick the Jones family out of Manor Farm. Thus begins Animal Farm. Their rebellion starts off as an honest effort to benefit all, but slowly the pigs use their superior intelligence to oppress those around them. Soon infighting begins. I won't go into too much detail because, if you haven't read this classic yet, it's about time. In fact, now more than ever is the timeliest of times to read it.
To write something so political from the perspective of animals is genius. It really is. And above all, he did it so damn good. At no point did I feel like George Orwell was trying to force the analogy. It all just happened naturally, proving how easily power corrupts. In this era of television shows like Breaking Bad and House of Cards and films like The Hunger Games: Mockingjay , this poignant novella strikes a chord. When given the reins, the hero can swiftly become the villain.
Animal Farm broke my heart. Needless to say, this novella is a moving page-turner that's not easily forgotten. I highly recommend it.
Book #18: A graphic novel
Written by Gerard Way (yes, from My Chemical Romance) and illustrated by Gabriel Bá, The Umbrella Academy, Vol.1: The Apocalypse Suite let me escape into a fascinating world of super-powered children born seemingly from an alien force and raised by an eccentric aristocrat who believes in scientific experimentation over love, all in the name of saving the world. The Umbrella Academy is a very human tale in spite of its sci-fi leanings. It's dark and moody and yet light-hearted and fun. Sure, it's the end of the world, but sibling rivalry seems more important. It's equal parts sweet, sadistic, and superheroic. I'm glad I gave it a chance.
Book #19: A classic from the 20th century
I chose Of Mice and Men . Again, I'm a little behind, but will be finished it in less than a day, so I figured I know enough about it now to share my thoughts.
Of Mice and Men centers on an unlikely pair of friends. They're an odd couple for sure, George Milton and Lennie Small. George is the smart but small one, trying his darnedest to stay out of trouble and earn enough money as a ranch hand to make something of himself. However, he's forced to rove because of his connection to his friend Lennie. Lennie is a gigantic, lumbering man whose size makes him a great farmworker, but unfortunately, he is a bit dim-witted and cannot stay out of trouble. He's a gentle giant, never meaning to cause harm, but people don't seem to understand him, forcing him and by proxy George to flee town after town in the middle of the night in hopes of work elsewhere.
George and Lennie find themselves at a new ranch where the son of the owner, a guy named Curley, seems to want to fight everyone just to prove his manliness. He has a new wife who also seems to have an eye for every man but her husband, which worries George. He repeatedly warns Lennie to stay out of trouble and keep quiet. It's an interesting picture painting of working on someone else's farm, the spectrum of people one encounters and the hard truths you just come to expect. I sense trouble brewing, though.
And their relationship is a very interesting one. Author John Steinbeck tirelessly worked on this unconventional male-male bond to figure out why George would stand by a guy like Lennie. Their relationship and George's general uneasiness about women give me the impression that perhaps George is gay. But there is no evidence, either way.
Regardless, it is a beautiful relationship mired in trouble. And since I haven't been living under a rock, I'm pretty sure I know what's going to become of one of them. However, I don't yet know why this fate will come to be, and the journey is worth more than the destination. I can't wait to find out.
Book #20: A book based on a fairytale
I was going to read Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister , by Gregory Maguire, who kind of has a claim to this whole retold fairy tale business. But the library was ordering a copy and wouldn't have it in circulation for quite some time. And when things are out of stock, you have to improvise. So, I found out that Gregory, of course, has written a whole book of short stories, Leaping Beauty: And Other Animal Fairy Tales , all of which are retellings of fairy tales re-imagined with animals. I'm fairly sure this book was meant for children. I even found it in the juvenile section. But then again, I found The Little Prince there, too, and that didn't stop me. So, I leaped into Leaping Beauty.
Leaping Beauty offers eight short stories: "Leaping Beauty," "Goldiefox and the Three Chickens," "Hamster and Gerbil," "So What and the Seven Giraffes," "Little Red Robin Hood," "The Three Little Penguins and the Big Bad Walrus," "Cinder-Elephant," and "Rumplesnakeskin."
Each have their own spin, and true, the moral messages imbued in the originals are a little tainted in Maguire's retellings, but they still make for great reads. I liked the idea of a hamster and a gerbil vowing revenge on an evil skunk who, as their stepmother, sends them away, and all the problems that a skunk brings to a rodent family. I like "Leaping Beauty," in which the curse brought to the frog princess backfires wildly on the very person who put the curse upon her. I like the chimp named So What whose personality is shaped by the name he is given and how that conundrum is resolved. I like the idea of little penguins who live in an igloo and keep forgetting to shut off the oven and keep the door closed.
It's all tremendously silly and that's what I like the most about it. As an adult, I appreciate the whimsy, and I'm sure any kid would get a kick out of it.
Book #21: A book that's guaranteed to bring you joy
This prompt is so open to interpretation, it was rather hard to determine what does and doesn't qualify here. I was going to take a sarcastic, literal route and read cover to cover either The Joy of Cooking or The Joy of Sex . (The former I do own and highly recommend.)
Then, I came across a book called How to Be an Explorer of the World: Portable Life Museum , by Canadian Keri Smith. It literally intends to inspire you by your surroundings with promises to open you up to happiness through exploration. I figured this is a book that actually does promise to bring you joy in one form or another, so this was as close as I was going to get to a so-called joy guarantee.
I quickly learned that How To Be An Explorer Of The World was more like a workbook than I'd first assumed, but the principles within could have been found in a more typical book meant for pure reading. The words are posed in a way meant to inspire creativity. Each idea intended to trigger thought is called an exploration. I didn't want to rush through them because I enjoyed looking at the world from the random angles it proposes. As a writer, these exercises are, quite frankly, fun. (You might even say joyful.)
How To Be An Explorer Of The World is filled with quotations and factoids. The first exploration asks you to list ten rapid-fire things you didn't notice before about right where you are sitting, which is where I found a great quotation from philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein that author Keri Smith uses to illustrate the point of the exercise: "The aspects of things that are more important for us are hidden because of their simplicity and familiarity. One is unable to notice something -- because it is always before one's eyes."
A few words near Exploration #8 were pretty inspiring, too, claiming that, "when you begin to pay attention to something you've never really looked at before you will begin to see it everywhere. You eventually begin to feel as if the thing is out to find you, instead of the other way around."
That being said, not all of these explorations are prizewinners. Some are actually a recipe for hoarding or kleptomania, asking you to collect objects on the way to work. Needless to say, I skipped a few that didn't seem worth the effort. It's okay, though; the book asks me to do so, picking and choosing what makes me feel joyful and curious.
One exploration made me laugh because I was already in the process of doing it before reading it albeit not for creativity's sake. Exploration #7 requested that the reader collect paint chips from a hardware store to find colours that respond to you in the world, essentially documenting the colours around you. Well, I was trying to find an exact match to my red wedding dress for my make-up artist, which is hard to describe because of its pink undertones, so I gathered me some paint chips and found that ... sigh, none of them matched. I got close, but no cigar. Even if I didn't succeed in matching them, some of the ridiculously descriptive names on the paint chips brought me joy, such as "racing stripe" and "sugar poppy" or, the paint chip that turned out to be the best match for my dress, "100 MPH." My wedding dress is saying, "Vroom, vroom," clearly.
Speaking of guaranteed joy, I would be remiss to ignore that June has come, which means, to me, that as of next month, I will have already pranced off into the metaphorical sunset to get married. (It'll actually be closer to noon than sunset, but them's the breaks.)
So, as aforementioned, my reading may be slightly interrupted, but I will try to stick to it.
Happy reading!
May came and went so quickly. And June is a busy month for me, with a wedding and visits from relatives across the globe. I know I won't be getting in much reading, so I figured I should overcompensate this month.
So what did I do? I read for the fun of it.
Ooh, rebel without a cause. Not quite what James Dean intended, surely, but I'll take it.
This month I read X vs. Y: A Culture War, a Love Story . And it fits no prompt in the PopSugar reading challenge. Trust me. I scoured that list. Nothing. Nada. Zip. It was a quickie, in my defense, a comparative look at pop culture through the eyes of sisters with a fourteen-year age gap. Generation X is Eve Epstein who waxes on about Wham, bulky acrylic legwarmers, Saturday-morning cartoons, and auteur David Lynch and his Twin Peaks in her personal essays, while her sister Leonora Epstein who represents Generation Y was more my speed, rattling on about the profundity of Aqua, Tom Green, dating via text message and IM, and, one of my favourites, the book The Perks of Being a Wallflower . I especially appreciated the line of similarity she cuts through Rugrats , Buffy , and New Girl . It certainly captures the attention, even if only for a fleeting 190 pages.
I finished a writing style guide, too, The Sense of Style: The Thinking Person's Guide to Writing in the 21st Century , but I don't think that qualifies as cheating since I had read eighty percent of it before jumping into this crazy challenge. Tying up loose ends cannot possibly rate the same as diving into something new. It just can't.
Shortly after, I got out my good-girl pants and swore up and down to devote myself wholly to this challenge. In short, no more dicking around.
In total, I devoured eleven books, a whopping nine of which were challenge-applicable books. I hope that'll be enough to keep me on track. Crossing off any less than three books a month seems like a guaranteed derailment.
This month also offered a bounty of opportunities for perusal of other books that might fit the challenge. I skimmed both the novel Atonement and the non-fiction skewering of the Koch brothers in Dark Money: The Hidden History of the Billionaires Behind the Rise of the Radical Right . I'm not sure how whether or not I will use them to fulfill this reading challenge, but they seem like interesting reads nonetheless. If they don't fit a prompt, I will definitely go back to them, perhaps when I've shown this challenge who's boss.
(Me. I'm boss.)
So, here we are.
Book #13: A YA Bestseller
Last month, I read The DUFF: Designated Ugly Fat Friend , a book that arguably has one of the worst film adaptations, in which the only thing retained from its source material are the names of a handful of characters. Sincerely, the two are strangers, book isolated from and unfamiliar to the film it bred.
My sister is a fan of author John Green and I've been a fan of some of the webseries he's taken part in. (And he and his brother share, like, a whole Youtube channel together.) He's very charismatic, for sure. So, it was no surprise that she recommended I read The Fault in Our Stars . A massive international hit, the young adult juggernaut also sparked a film, which again, I have seen. Granted, I haven't seen the film in a little while, consuming it when it was released, but if memory serves me, The Fault in Our Stars was adapted very honestly, sticking to each word and outright copying whole sections of dialogue. It's a very faithful adaptation. There are little bits and pieces in the book that I don't recall from the film, passages that paint a slightly darker tone than the bittersweet love story told onscreen, but again, the gist is the same.
Unfortunately, that sours my experience a touch.
I already know every beat along this path. I know the destination and the journey. Alas, I was underwhelmed. I obviously don't blame the book. It was my choice to watch the film first.
I was just left with very little as a result.
Still, I understand the book's overwhelming popularity. It seems to be written honestly, too, spoken from a place of knowledge about cancer survival and all the details that that experience entails. The mumbo-jumbo doctors say and the reality of living it. Not to mention the vast differences between those suffering from it. The blind, the amputated, the deoxygenated. Those fighting to be well again and others fighting the incurable. I knew someone with cancer who was much older when I was too young to understand. Then, I knew someone else with cancer when I was much older and they were too young to understand. To be fair, I wasn't particularly close to either of them, but I knew them all the same, well enough to be let in on what was going on with them. Both thankfully went into remission.
I've never suffered the harsher realities of cancer or the devastating loss it produces. So, I can only imagine that what John Green wrote is accurate. I'd be willing to say it's right on the money. Why else has the world clasped hands in a circle around him?
I'm going to break away from John Green for a brief while, but I will return to him to fulfill another reading prompt. In fact, I'll be reading what my sister describes as her "least favourite John Green." Swell.
But speaking of men named John ...
Book #14: A book written by a celebrity
I mentioned last month jumping from actress Anjelica Huston's early Irish childhood tales of whim and woe, to the more slick and hopefully funny adventures in Hollywood of actor Jon Cryer. His book, So That Happened: A Memoir , is full of great anecdotes, both funny and tender little stories from different stages of his life.
I decided to do a little reading time between me and the husband-to-be. We've had quite a few laughs reading So That Happened. More importantly, though, it's not just salacious gossip about Hollywood denizens (although you do learn a few juicy factoids) or retellings of events from his vantage point. Rather it's a fun and enlightened recap of his life, from toddler to today, and it's written so honestly, conveying the emotions he experienced, that you feel closer to Jon. I really find it superbly written, especially considering Jon is not a writer by profession. It walks that tightrope between laugh riot and sincere feelings.
I'm glad I switched over. Sorry, Anjelica.
Book #15: A book that's set on an island
Cuba is an island. So, I read a classic novel about Cuban fisherman, a short one with a lot of promise. Ernest Hemingway published his novella The Old Man and the Sea in 1952, but it still reads well today, owing to that terse style. I'm not a big fan of fishing and that kind of lifestyle. Many do love that kind of thing, but I just don't fall into that category. So, reading this one was a bit of a trudge. Now, that being said, I think the writing style is great and I'm sure that, while I'm not one of them, people who love fishing are totally on board. Yes, yes, pardon the pun. However, the book was short, so I'd be damned if I wasn't going to see it through.
Which is funny because that obstinate brand of stick-to-it-ness is kind of the point of The Old Man and the Sea.
Thematically and symbolically, the book is a goldmine. Let's deal with the idea of endurance first. We all know a person's self-image can be degraded by the labels plastered to us by those who surround us. You have confidence in yourself, but that pride is melted away by the corrosive words of others. If you don't catch a fish for months, the other fisherman deem you too old to be in the game any longer. But the human spirit can defy these declarations. He is not just the "old man," but rather the great fisherman and arm-wrestling champion Santiago, and he aims to conquer the age discrimination against him by capturing a truly great fish in the sea. A marlin of epic proportions. The real thing. And I'm sure you can attach all sorts of meaning to that fish. For some, the fish represents Jesus. For others, the fish is symbolic of the meaning of life. Some argue it's the need for friendship and companionship; others look at it as a metaphor for pride and legacy. And I'm sure someone somewhere thinks the fish is Tupac. It's whatever you want really. Affix your end-all-be-all here. It's the big kahuna, whatever the kahuna is to you.
The Old Man and The Sea also describes the loneliness endured in this quest for survival, not just physical survival but the survival of one's dignity in the face of these judgments. Above all, though, perseverance is king, and Hemingway expertly demonstrates that, if at first you don't succeed, try again. You are never too old to do so.
Book #16: A book that's becoming a movie this year
As I read The Taliban Shuffle: Strange Days in Afghanistan and Pakistan for this prompt, all I could think was, "Holy shit, people. How much can you drop the ball?" Frankly, I thought I was going to read something more humourous, the more comedic side of war replete with shenanigans, especially considering the trailers I'd seen for Whiskey Tango Foxtrot, the film they made this year from the book. I mean, it's Tina Fey. You expect laughs. Yet The Taliban Shuffle is playing it straight and is more heartbreaking than sidesplitting.
Journalist Kim Barker was definitely in a weird place. She volunteered and became quickly and thoroughly addicted to the miserable existence of life as an embed in the U.S. troops in the wartorn Middle East. While most find India chaotic, Kim wrote how boring and normal it was, how desperate she was to get back in the action in Kabul.
Then, the government truly screwed up. Not like the minor mistakes she'd witnessed prior, she truly felt affected after a friend of hers dies and a person she'd never meant but knew a bit about is sent back out into Afghanistan way past their prime. With that, Kim decides to leave Afghanistan to investigate the other side of the mountain: Pakistan, or as she describes it, Whack-a-Stan.
In Pakistan, Kim encounters a new set of problems. For one, the men won't stop grabbing her ass. Secondly, she is being chased by the Pakistani intelligence agency ISI. Third, her foolish friend and fellow journalist decides to meet a high-profile insurgent in the tribal lands of Pakistan, a virtual no-man's-land where Westerners are kidnapped, held for ransom, and often killed. Then, her allergies and sinus problems to the polluted air send her back to the States for nasal surgery to remove polyps and, she hopes, fix the problem for good. Alas, while still in the States, she faces a new set of problems, both professional and personal, as the landscape of her workplace changes and she becomes a victim of identity fraud.
Full disclosure: I still have a couple chapters left, but I will still finish the book before the end of the month. Although it's not funny, it is very informative, and I feel I've learned quite a bit about life in the Middle East during the Bush administration. As someone who hates war films, war books, and, of course, the event that inspired it all, war, I had every reason not to like this book. And yet, I really did. So, even if you're just like me with an utter disdain for grenades and camo, The Taliban Shuffle still offers something worthwhile.
Book #17: A satirical book
It's great when a classic isn't overrated. Animal Farm , that famous satire of Russian communism, is really clever. It's short and sweet, like The Old Man and the Sea, but I enjoyed Animal Farm far more.
The animals represent the people longing for equality, as the capitalist-minded farmer, Mr. Jones, drunkenly uses, abuses, and ignores them. One day, after Mr. Jones forgets to feed them, the animals fight back and kick the Jones family out of Manor Farm. Thus begins Animal Farm. Their rebellion starts off as an honest effort to benefit all, but slowly the pigs use their superior intelligence to oppress those around them. Soon infighting begins. I won't go into too much detail because, if you haven't read this classic yet, it's about time. In fact, now more than ever is the timeliest of times to read it.
To write something so political from the perspective of animals is genius. It really is. And above all, he did it so damn good. At no point did I feel like George Orwell was trying to force the analogy. It all just happened naturally, proving how easily power corrupts. In this era of television shows like Breaking Bad and House of Cards and films like The Hunger Games: Mockingjay , this poignant novella strikes a chord. When given the reins, the hero can swiftly become the villain.
Animal Farm broke my heart. Needless to say, this novella is a moving page-turner that's not easily forgotten. I highly recommend it.
Book #18: A graphic novel
Written by Gerard Way (yes, from My Chemical Romance) and illustrated by Gabriel Bá, The Umbrella Academy, Vol.1: The Apocalypse Suite let me escape into a fascinating world of super-powered children born seemingly from an alien force and raised by an eccentric aristocrat who believes in scientific experimentation over love, all in the name of saving the world. The Umbrella Academy is a very human tale in spite of its sci-fi leanings. It's dark and moody and yet light-hearted and fun. Sure, it's the end of the world, but sibling rivalry seems more important. It's equal parts sweet, sadistic, and superheroic. I'm glad I gave it a chance.
Book #19: A classic from the 20th century
I chose Of Mice and Men . Again, I'm a little behind, but will be finished it in less than a day, so I figured I know enough about it now to share my thoughts.
Of Mice and Men centers on an unlikely pair of friends. They're an odd couple for sure, George Milton and Lennie Small. George is the smart but small one, trying his darnedest to stay out of trouble and earn enough money as a ranch hand to make something of himself. However, he's forced to rove because of his connection to his friend Lennie. Lennie is a gigantic, lumbering man whose size makes him a great farmworker, but unfortunately, he is a bit dim-witted and cannot stay out of trouble. He's a gentle giant, never meaning to cause harm, but people don't seem to understand him, forcing him and by proxy George to flee town after town in the middle of the night in hopes of work elsewhere.
George and Lennie find themselves at a new ranch where the son of the owner, a guy named Curley, seems to want to fight everyone just to prove his manliness. He has a new wife who also seems to have an eye for every man but her husband, which worries George. He repeatedly warns Lennie to stay out of trouble and keep quiet. It's an interesting picture painting of working on someone else's farm, the spectrum of people one encounters and the hard truths you just come to expect. I sense trouble brewing, though.
And their relationship is a very interesting one. Author John Steinbeck tirelessly worked on this unconventional male-male bond to figure out why George would stand by a guy like Lennie. Their relationship and George's general uneasiness about women give me the impression that perhaps George is gay. But there is no evidence, either way.
Regardless, it is a beautiful relationship mired in trouble. And since I haven't been living under a rock, I'm pretty sure I know what's going to become of one of them. However, I don't yet know why this fate will come to be, and the journey is worth more than the destination. I can't wait to find out.
Book #20: A book based on a fairytale
I was going to read Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister , by Gregory Maguire, who kind of has a claim to this whole retold fairy tale business. But the library was ordering a copy and wouldn't have it in circulation for quite some time. And when things are out of stock, you have to improvise. So, I found out that Gregory, of course, has written a whole book of short stories, Leaping Beauty: And Other Animal Fairy Tales , all of which are retellings of fairy tales re-imagined with animals. I'm fairly sure this book was meant for children. I even found it in the juvenile section. But then again, I found The Little Prince there, too, and that didn't stop me. So, I leaped into Leaping Beauty.
Leaping Beauty offers eight short stories: "Leaping Beauty," "Goldiefox and the Three Chickens," "Hamster and Gerbil," "So What and the Seven Giraffes," "Little Red Robin Hood," "The Three Little Penguins and the Big Bad Walrus," "Cinder-Elephant," and "Rumplesnakeskin."
Each have their own spin, and true, the moral messages imbued in the originals are a little tainted in Maguire's retellings, but they still make for great reads. I liked the idea of a hamster and a gerbil vowing revenge on an evil skunk who, as their stepmother, sends them away, and all the problems that a skunk brings to a rodent family. I like "Leaping Beauty," in which the curse brought to the frog princess backfires wildly on the very person who put the curse upon her. I like the chimp named So What whose personality is shaped by the name he is given and how that conundrum is resolved. I like the idea of little penguins who live in an igloo and keep forgetting to shut off the oven and keep the door closed.
It's all tremendously silly and that's what I like the most about it. As an adult, I appreciate the whimsy, and I'm sure any kid would get a kick out of it.
Book #21: A book that's guaranteed to bring you joy
This prompt is so open to interpretation, it was rather hard to determine what does and doesn't qualify here. I was going to take a sarcastic, literal route and read cover to cover either The Joy of Cooking or The Joy of Sex . (The former I do own and highly recommend.)
Then, I came across a book called How to Be an Explorer of the World: Portable Life Museum , by Canadian Keri Smith. It literally intends to inspire you by your surroundings with promises to open you up to happiness through exploration. I figured this is a book that actually does promise to bring you joy in one form or another, so this was as close as I was going to get to a so-called joy guarantee.
I quickly learned that How To Be An Explorer Of The World was more like a workbook than I'd first assumed, but the principles within could have been found in a more typical book meant for pure reading. The words are posed in a way meant to inspire creativity. Each idea intended to trigger thought is called an exploration. I didn't want to rush through them because I enjoyed looking at the world from the random angles it proposes. As a writer, these exercises are, quite frankly, fun. (You might even say joyful.)
How To Be An Explorer Of The World is filled with quotations and factoids. The first exploration asks you to list ten rapid-fire things you didn't notice before about right where you are sitting, which is where I found a great quotation from philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein that author Keri Smith uses to illustrate the point of the exercise: "The aspects of things that are more important for us are hidden because of their simplicity and familiarity. One is unable to notice something -- because it is always before one's eyes."
A few words near Exploration #8 were pretty inspiring, too, claiming that, "when you begin to pay attention to something you've never really looked at before you will begin to see it everywhere. You eventually begin to feel as if the thing is out to find you, instead of the other way around."
That being said, not all of these explorations are prizewinners. Some are actually a recipe for hoarding or kleptomania, asking you to collect objects on the way to work. Needless to say, I skipped a few that didn't seem worth the effort. It's okay, though; the book asks me to do so, picking and choosing what makes me feel joyful and curious.
One exploration made me laugh because I was already in the process of doing it before reading it albeit not for creativity's sake. Exploration #7 requested that the reader collect paint chips from a hardware store to find colours that respond to you in the world, essentially documenting the colours around you. Well, I was trying to find an exact match to my red wedding dress for my make-up artist, which is hard to describe because of its pink undertones, so I gathered me some paint chips and found that ... sigh, none of them matched. I got close, but no cigar. Even if I didn't succeed in matching them, some of the ridiculously descriptive names on the paint chips brought me joy, such as "racing stripe" and "sugar poppy" or, the paint chip that turned out to be the best match for my dress, "100 MPH." My wedding dress is saying, "Vroom, vroom," clearly.
Speaking of guaranteed joy, I would be remiss to ignore that June has come, which means, to me, that as of next month, I will have already pranced off into the metaphorical sunset to get married. (It'll actually be closer to noon than sunset, but them's the breaks.)
So, as aforementioned, my reading may be slightly interrupted, but I will try to stick to it.
Happy reading!
Hot Summer Streets And The Pavements Are Burning, I Sit Around.
August is a good month for family. My mother and sister both celebrated their birthdays (and then, today happens to be my birthday, but that's September, so that's a story for next time). My parents celebrated their wedding anniversary in August (31 years and counting). And with the bright sunny days, we all just want to hang out on the patio together and eat barbecue. Life is good. So, what did I do? Bury my nose in a book. In fact, I buried my nose in a lot of them.
This reading challenge is going to give me a Vitamin D deficiency.
Book #25: A book that's set in summertime
For this prompt, I went to a classic: A Midsummer Night's Dream . I mean, "summer" is in the title, so I can't be wrong.
This is the second of Shakespeare's comedies that I have read. (Although I was given a copy of Much Ado About Nothing by my special education resource teacher as a child, I never got around to reading it and instead read The Tempest first as part of my high school syllabus.) As far as Shakespearean comedies go, it's not my favourite (The Tempest, by default, is); Midsummer seems too much about the folly of love and doesn't say too much here or there about anything, really. Everything's just done for shits and giggles. I appreciated The Tempest's motivations behind its actions and, frankly, I'd rather read any of Shakespeare's tragedies over his comedies. Still, if I can deduce anything from Midsummer, then the principal point is that true love and happiness are made-up, a fallacy concocted up from magic and trickery. So, the happy ending and marital bliss and all the joyous laughter are merely . . . nothing? Ultimately, I don't know and I don't care. The sourness of that message, as that is all I can extract from what is ultimately a huge farce, is far more pessimistic than anything in the tragic downfalls of King Lear, Othello and Desdemona, Romeo and Juliet, or any of the like. Sorry, Willy, this one's just not for me.
Book #26: A book from Oprah's Book Club
When I was a kid (because, during her heyday, I certainly was a young 'un), I loved Oprah. She was this magical entity of smiles and giggles. She did some very serious episodes, which at the time I didn't fully understand, but for the most part, it was animals, information, celebrities, and laughs. And, as it turns out, books. I loved to read as a kid, so you would have thought I would have been much more aware of her book club.
That was not the case. I only really took note in light of the James Frey incident. I bought his book because of Oprah, further evidence of the Oprah effect. I was shocked when I found out that some of this so-called true story was, in fact, fabricated. Now, I feel like that's not such a big deal, considering it doesn't make the story and the experience it conveys any less true in theory. For the same reason, I feel that the Orange is the New Black television program, which has veered far from the original source material, Piper Kerman's memoir of the same name, is still true. Now, the names may be different, the locations, and any other number of details, but the experiences are much the same and the injustices even more so. The essence is real, and sometimes that's good enough.
But that's neither here nor there.
The point is, I didn't know a great deal about Oprah's book club until her show was off the air. I had read White Oleander not because Miz Winfrey had declared it so, but rather simply because I wanted to. It wasn't until later that I noticed her stamp of approval on the cover.
So, I had nothing in mind and had to look up a list for this prompt. I was oscillating between Paradise and the book I eventually chose. I determined that, considering its popularity, I would most certainly read Paradise in the future. It would not disappear like a faded memory from the public conscious, so I went with Option B.
I had never heard of What Looks Like Crazy on an Ordinary Day . Written by Pearl Cleage, What Looks Like Crazy tells the story of Ava Johnson, a successful Atlanta stylist, recently diagnosed with HIV, who returns home to Michigan to spend some time with her sister before leaving for San Francisco. She slowly gets wrapped up in the details of her sister's life until she finds not one but many reasons to stay put. But can she really live her life there? Or is she just being delusional? Coping with the shock of an incurable illness must be terrifying, but, while Ava does address her fears surrounding her diagnosis and the social stigma she faces now, the book mostly skims past all of the darkness and depression and god-knows-what-else that one would probably succumb to after that, trading it all in for Ava's composure and strength. As nice as it is to have a poised protagonist, that part feels less than realistic.
Otherwise, I absolutely freaking loved this novel. Pearl Cleage writes so well in Ava's voice, an ongoing trickle of thoughts that never feel contrived or constructed. Everything feels natural and respects the character's best and worst parts without sugarcoating or demonizing. She thinks what she thinks, completely uninhibited. She doesn't act on every thought. That's what makes her real. We sometimes have fleeting flashes of darkness, happiness, idiocy, prejudice, and everything else under the sun. We, as humankind, only act on a very small fraction of those ideas.
Lastly, I found Ava's quest for self-improvement inspiring. I'm sure Oprah did, too, and that's why Pearl Cleage's book landed itself a coveted spot on her Book Club list. Forever canonized as Lady O's lit of choice, I am glad that this novel got some attention -- not just by the world but by me. It was a fun experience to read and I am glad I found it.
Book #27: A book set in Europe
This is my favourite book so far. (It gets the edge on Sharp Objects, a vastly different novel.) It more than fulfilled its prompt as a book set in Europe with discussion of places like Italy, Greece, and Iceland, and settings like Switzerland, England (currently the country most on Europe's bad side), and a cafe in Le Marais and other parts of Paris. That book was Me Before You .
If I cried once, I cried a dozen times. Although I'm sure Me Before You is categorized as a romance novel, that's dealing with it in far too basic terms.
For one, it has a greater depth of subject matter than your average generic bodice ripper. There's an intense heaviness there you can't shake nor can you find in a Harlequin paperback. It transcends the genre in that way, but author Jojo Moyes is the real reason why Me Before You is so damn spectacular.
Her writing style rubs us raw and holds the bare skin to the flame. We feel it. We don't want it to hurt, but it does. We're invested despite ourselves.
In one of the more tearful moments, I concluded that Louisa Clark, the fictional protagonist, must be speaking to me. I couldn't stop flipping the pages, hearing the next thing and the next thing. Louisa’s voice (really, Jojo Moyes’s voice) beckons. Having experienced some of the same things this character has, I felt a closeness to her that I haven't felt since Lisbeth Salander (for the record, anything I might have in common with Lisbeth doesn't make me even remotely similar to her). In ways I like and in a few ways I don't (I too can tell you the exact day I stopped being fearless), I am like Louisa. Her story is ridiculously unique and individual and yet, in its tenderest moments, it engages everyone with the ubiquity of its emotion.
I absolutely loved this book and I don't think I'm alone in my fascination with it. I wouldn't hesitate to recommend Me Before You.
And that is it for August. A mere count of three for this month seems too small in my mind, though. Fingers crossed I can make some serious headway sooner rather than later. I am not looking forward to reading a 600-plus-page chunkster, but this is what the PopSugar gods have decreed. This challenge is, like, totally hard, guys.
Until then, happy reading!
This reading challenge is going to give me a Vitamin D deficiency.
Book #25: A book that's set in summertime
For this prompt, I went to a classic: A Midsummer Night's Dream . I mean, "summer" is in the title, so I can't be wrong.
This is the second of Shakespeare's comedies that I have read. (Although I was given a copy of Much Ado About Nothing by my special education resource teacher as a child, I never got around to reading it and instead read The Tempest first as part of my high school syllabus.) As far as Shakespearean comedies go, it's not my favourite (The Tempest, by default, is); Midsummer seems too much about the folly of love and doesn't say too much here or there about anything, really. Everything's just done for shits and giggles. I appreciated The Tempest's motivations behind its actions and, frankly, I'd rather read any of Shakespeare's tragedies over his comedies. Still, if I can deduce anything from Midsummer, then the principal point is that true love and happiness are made-up, a fallacy concocted up from magic and trickery. So, the happy ending and marital bliss and all the joyous laughter are merely . . . nothing? Ultimately, I don't know and I don't care. The sourness of that message, as that is all I can extract from what is ultimately a huge farce, is far more pessimistic than anything in the tragic downfalls of King Lear, Othello and Desdemona, Romeo and Juliet, or any of the like. Sorry, Willy, this one's just not for me.
Book #26: A book from Oprah's Book Club
When I was a kid (because, during her heyday, I certainly was a young 'un), I loved Oprah. She was this magical entity of smiles and giggles. She did some very serious episodes, which at the time I didn't fully understand, but for the most part, it was animals, information, celebrities, and laughs. And, as it turns out, books. I loved to read as a kid, so you would have thought I would have been much more aware of her book club.
That was not the case. I only really took note in light of the James Frey incident. I bought his book because of Oprah, further evidence of the Oprah effect. I was shocked when I found out that some of this so-called true story was, in fact, fabricated. Now, I feel like that's not such a big deal, considering it doesn't make the story and the experience it conveys any less true in theory. For the same reason, I feel that the Orange is the New Black television program, which has veered far from the original source material, Piper Kerman's memoir of the same name, is still true. Now, the names may be different, the locations, and any other number of details, but the experiences are much the same and the injustices even more so. The essence is real, and sometimes that's good enough.
But that's neither here nor there.
The point is, I didn't know a great deal about Oprah's book club until her show was off the air. I had read White Oleander not because Miz Winfrey had declared it so, but rather simply because I wanted to. It wasn't until later that I noticed her stamp of approval on the cover.
So, I had nothing in mind and had to look up a list for this prompt. I was oscillating between Paradise and the book I eventually chose. I determined that, considering its popularity, I would most certainly read Paradise in the future. It would not disappear like a faded memory from the public conscious, so I went with Option B.
I had never heard of What Looks Like Crazy on an Ordinary Day . Written by Pearl Cleage, What Looks Like Crazy tells the story of Ava Johnson, a successful Atlanta stylist, recently diagnosed with HIV, who returns home to Michigan to spend some time with her sister before leaving for San Francisco. She slowly gets wrapped up in the details of her sister's life until she finds not one but many reasons to stay put. But can she really live her life there? Or is she just being delusional? Coping with the shock of an incurable illness must be terrifying, but, while Ava does address her fears surrounding her diagnosis and the social stigma she faces now, the book mostly skims past all of the darkness and depression and god-knows-what-else that one would probably succumb to after that, trading it all in for Ava's composure and strength. As nice as it is to have a poised protagonist, that part feels less than realistic.
Otherwise, I absolutely freaking loved this novel. Pearl Cleage writes so well in Ava's voice, an ongoing trickle of thoughts that never feel contrived or constructed. Everything feels natural and respects the character's best and worst parts without sugarcoating or demonizing. She thinks what she thinks, completely uninhibited. She doesn't act on every thought. That's what makes her real. We sometimes have fleeting flashes of darkness, happiness, idiocy, prejudice, and everything else under the sun. We, as humankind, only act on a very small fraction of those ideas.
Lastly, I found Ava's quest for self-improvement inspiring. I'm sure Oprah did, too, and that's why Pearl Cleage's book landed itself a coveted spot on her Book Club list. Forever canonized as Lady O's lit of choice, I am glad that this novel got some attention -- not just by the world but by me. It was a fun experience to read and I am glad I found it.
Book #27: A book set in Europe
This is my favourite book so far. (It gets the edge on Sharp Objects, a vastly different novel.) It more than fulfilled its prompt as a book set in Europe with discussion of places like Italy, Greece, and Iceland, and settings like Switzerland, England (currently the country most on Europe's bad side), and a cafe in Le Marais and other parts of Paris. That book was Me Before You .
If I cried once, I cried a dozen times. Although I'm sure Me Before You is categorized as a romance novel, that's dealing with it in far too basic terms.
For one, it has a greater depth of subject matter than your average generic bodice ripper. There's an intense heaviness there you can't shake nor can you find in a Harlequin paperback. It transcends the genre in that way, but author Jojo Moyes is the real reason why Me Before You is so damn spectacular.
Her writing style rubs us raw and holds the bare skin to the flame. We feel it. We don't want it to hurt, but it does. We're invested despite ourselves.
In one of the more tearful moments, I concluded that Louisa Clark, the fictional protagonist, must be speaking to me. I couldn't stop flipping the pages, hearing the next thing and the next thing. Louisa’s voice (really, Jojo Moyes’s voice) beckons. Having experienced some of the same things this character has, I felt a closeness to her that I haven't felt since Lisbeth Salander (for the record, anything I might have in common with Lisbeth doesn't make me even remotely similar to her). In ways I like and in a few ways I don't (I too can tell you the exact day I stopped being fearless), I am like Louisa. Her story is ridiculously unique and individual and yet, in its tenderest moments, it engages everyone with the ubiquity of its emotion.
I absolutely loved this book and I don't think I'm alone in my fascination with it. I wouldn't hesitate to recommend Me Before You.
And that is it for August. A mere count of three for this month seems too small in my mind, though. Fingers crossed I can make some serious headway sooner rather than later. I am not looking forward to reading a 600-plus-page chunkster, but this is what the PopSugar gods have decreed. This challenge is, like, totally hard, guys.
Until then, happy reading!
I've Paid Some Dues, Getting Through Tangled Up in Blue.
October has come and gone. Soon, the snow will fall. I know -- depressing. I am trying desperately not to get the winter blues with the lack of sunlight and the biting cold creeping in.
No, I will remain excited. After all, the holidays are coming soon, full of jubilation and times spent with our loved ones.
And let's not let the spooktacular Halloween celebrations wear off too soon. After all, I did look like this:
Despite this ennui, I managed to keep reading. There's no time to spare if I ever hope to complete this challenge. This is what I mustered this month.
Book #31: A book with a blue cover
Don't think for a second I didn't consider rereading The Cat in the Hat .
For some unknown reason, I really struggled with this one. I could not find a book with a blue cover that I really wanted to read.
I thought I had finally come to a decision when I started reading The Light Between Oceans . Unfortunately, I was borrowing the book and had to return it before I had a chance to really get into it. I do intend to go back to it, but as for its fate to be the book with a blue cover? Sadly, not to be.
Which brings me to Neil.
Neil Pasricha has devoted many years and many pages to helping others find happiness. He is probably best known for his Book of Awesome , but now he is trying to approach happiness as an equation.
I have read The Book of Awesome, which, to me, is a coffee table book, not meant to be consumed all in one seating like a novel but rather perused to bring a little dose of joy into your life at regular intervals or when you need it the most.
I liked the approach of his new book, too, The Happiness Equation , with its scribbles and sketches. It was cute, more like a conversation with graphics drawn on a napkin to illustrate the point.
However, I would not find it to be the most mind-blowing of investigations. Most of what Neil points out is a retread. In fact, I would argue that a significant portion of this book is quoting others. Buddha said this. Newton said that. Richard Feynman points this out. Tom Hanks points that out. It's a game of he-said, she-said, at times, and that is a touch grating. I did like the anecdotes, but endlessly quoting others didn't really help me get anywhere. It just felt like padding.
The gist is as follows:
"Always remember there are only three goals. To want nothing. That's contentment. To do anything. That's freedom. To have everything. That's happiness. What are the nine secrets to get us there? Be happy first. Do it for you. Remember the lottery. Never retire. Overvalue you. Create space. Just do it. Be you. Don't take advice."
I find it rather hilarious that the last piece of advice in this book is to not take advice, but nonetheless, it is probably good advice at that.
The other lessons throughout the book are ones we already know. I think the most interesting was to "do it for you". We already know we should aim for self-fulfillment, but the controlled studies of different groups and how their performance is affected by outside motivators, like money or fame or what have you, is fascinating. That is probably my favourite part.
As a minimalist, I was already on board with the lesson advising us to "create space" by streamlining and automating those decisions that don't matter but take forever.
I'm also a big believer in "just do it" because the second-guessing is the killer. The cyclic nature of doing to create the self-confidence is obvious, but having it pointed out and illustrated is great. I appreciated that one a lot, too.
I suppose, by already being a fairly happy person, most of these lessons were already understood by me and that's why I didn't get quite so much out of the book. For someone who is looking to be perked up, this book is a great set of beginning resources, a course of action for you to follow, but, in the end, while I enjoyed reading it because of Pasricha's writing style, The Happiness Equation needed to dive a little deeper to discover a bit more.
Book #32: A book at least 100 years older than you
What can I say that hasn't been said? This play may be by Shakespeare and it may have that lovely turn of phrase, but if you're getting the message at all, you'll realize that it's a horribly sexist one about how women should be beaten into submission and basically sit underneath the boots of their husbands. Women are property to be owned and should be at their beck and call at any given moment.
I came to this play mostly because I knew it was the source material for the film Ten Things I Hate About You. I love that film, the way it plays the basic premise of this play for laughs, making Baptista, the father of two very different daughters, a doctor who delivers babies and can't bear the thought of finding his baby girl knocked up. As a result, he concocts a plan: his youngest daughter Bianca can date once her elder sister Kat does, and Kat couldn't give less of a hoot for the slobbering idiots surrounding her. Much better than the actual source material, this film has reasons and motivations for the women to act the way they do. Unlike Shakespeare, the screenwriters realized that women act not on whims but because of reasons and this film doesn't shy away from them. I can't believe I'm saying these words, but the film is better, you guys.
Anyway, the play left me feeling disgusted. I'm a feminist and a human being. This shit would not fly in today's society. Frankly, if this is what it was like to live in the 1590s, they can keep it.
In terms of October, that's all I managed to get through. Although I am in the midst of several books, those measly two are the only ones I finished in time for this blog. Next month, I'm hoping to be well on my way, completing a handful at least. That better not be wishful thinking on my part -- this year and thus this challenge has almost come to an end!
Until next month, happy reading!
No, I will remain excited. After all, the holidays are coming soon, full of jubilation and times spent with our loved ones.
And let's not let the spooktacular Halloween celebrations wear off too soon. After all, I did look like this:
Despite this ennui, I managed to keep reading. There's no time to spare if I ever hope to complete this challenge. This is what I mustered this month.
Book #31: A book with a blue cover
Don't think for a second I didn't consider rereading The Cat in the Hat .
For some unknown reason, I really struggled with this one. I could not find a book with a blue cover that I really wanted to read.
I thought I had finally come to a decision when I started reading The Light Between Oceans . Unfortunately, I was borrowing the book and had to return it before I had a chance to really get into it. I do intend to go back to it, but as for its fate to be the book with a blue cover? Sadly, not to be.
Which brings me to Neil.
Neil Pasricha has devoted many years and many pages to helping others find happiness. He is probably best known for his Book of Awesome , but now he is trying to approach happiness as an equation.
I have read The Book of Awesome, which, to me, is a coffee table book, not meant to be consumed all in one seating like a novel but rather perused to bring a little dose of joy into your life at regular intervals or when you need it the most.
I liked the approach of his new book, too, The Happiness Equation , with its scribbles and sketches. It was cute, more like a conversation with graphics drawn on a napkin to illustrate the point.
However, I would not find it to be the most mind-blowing of investigations. Most of what Neil points out is a retread. In fact, I would argue that a significant portion of this book is quoting others. Buddha said this. Newton said that. Richard Feynman points this out. Tom Hanks points that out. It's a game of he-said, she-said, at times, and that is a touch grating. I did like the anecdotes, but endlessly quoting others didn't really help me get anywhere. It just felt like padding.
The gist is as follows:
"Always remember there are only three goals. To want nothing. That's contentment. To do anything. That's freedom. To have everything. That's happiness. What are the nine secrets to get us there? Be happy first. Do it for you. Remember the lottery. Never retire. Overvalue you. Create space. Just do it. Be you. Don't take advice."
I find it rather hilarious that the last piece of advice in this book is to not take advice, but nonetheless, it is probably good advice at that.
The other lessons throughout the book are ones we already know. I think the most interesting was to "do it for you". We already know we should aim for self-fulfillment, but the controlled studies of different groups and how their performance is affected by outside motivators, like money or fame or what have you, is fascinating. That is probably my favourite part.
As a minimalist, I was already on board with the lesson advising us to "create space" by streamlining and automating those decisions that don't matter but take forever.
I'm also a big believer in "just do it" because the second-guessing is the killer. The cyclic nature of doing to create the self-confidence is obvious, but having it pointed out and illustrated is great. I appreciated that one a lot, too.
I suppose, by already being a fairly happy person, most of these lessons were already understood by me and that's why I didn't get quite so much out of the book. For someone who is looking to be perked up, this book is a great set of beginning resources, a course of action for you to follow, but, in the end, while I enjoyed reading it because of Pasricha's writing style, The Happiness Equation needed to dive a little deeper to discover a bit more.
Book #32: A book at least 100 years older than you
What can I say that hasn't been said? This play may be by Shakespeare and it may have that lovely turn of phrase, but if you're getting the message at all, you'll realize that it's a horribly sexist one about how women should be beaten into submission and basically sit underneath the boots of their husbands. Women are property to be owned and should be at their beck and call at any given moment.
I came to this play mostly because I knew it was the source material for the film Ten Things I Hate About You. I love that film, the way it plays the basic premise of this play for laughs, making Baptista, the father of two very different daughters, a doctor who delivers babies and can't bear the thought of finding his baby girl knocked up. As a result, he concocts a plan: his youngest daughter Bianca can date once her elder sister Kat does, and Kat couldn't give less of a hoot for the slobbering idiots surrounding her. Much better than the actual source material, this film has reasons and motivations for the women to act the way they do. Unlike Shakespeare, the screenwriters realized that women act not on whims but because of reasons and this film doesn't shy away from them. I can't believe I'm saying these words, but the film is better, you guys.
Anyway, the play left me feeling disgusted. I'm a feminist and a human being. This shit would not fly in today's society. Frankly, if this is what it was like to live in the 1590s, they can keep it.
In terms of October, that's all I managed to get through. Although I am in the midst of several books, those measly two are the only ones I finished in time for this blog. Next month, I'm hoping to be well on my way, completing a handful at least. That better not be wishful thinking on my part -- this year and thus this challenge has almost come to an end!
Until next month, happy reading!
I Guess We Know The Score.
It's the most wonderful time of the year: the end of the Popsugar Reading Challenge. Man, was that a brutal goal or what?
It's difficult to fit reading seven books -- seven! -- in along with the usual holiday hustle-and-bustle. So difficult in fact that this is what happened:
Book #35: A political memoir
I wasn't too sure if Jimmy Carter's book A Call to Action actually qualified as a political memoir, seeing as it didn't do the typical biographical slant the way other memoirs do. However, since most of Jimmy Carter's post-presidential career (and pre-presidential, to some degree) dealt with his actions in trying to improve human rights, then I suppose it is a memoir, after all, detailing his life outside of the Oval Office. It still remains political, though, dealing with international efforts to improve women's rights on many fronts. He talks at length about how sex-selective abortions performed extensively in China and India to ensure that they have only sons and no daughters is, while a problem in and of itself, the trigger for sexual and physical abuse on women through child marriages, human trafficking, and prostitution, seeing as the disproportionately great number of males born in these environments demand women that just aren't there. The line of causation is easily drawn, but not so easily altered to improve conditions.
He talks about his life growing up in Georgia and how, although he works extensively with his wife through the Carter Center to improve women's lives around the world, his home is just as guilty of injustice towards women as Atlanta is "one of the preeminent human trafficking centers in the United States." He discusses the Bible and the Koran and how they support the idea of women's rights. He covers a wide range of topics, including "honour" killings, sexual assault, rape, spousal abuse, war, slavery, human trafficking, child marriage, dowry deaths, genital mutilation, maternal health, the pay gap, and political participation. Some of what he has observed in his life, we already know, but some of his findings surprised me, such as the great steps made forward in Morocco for women's rights.
The book is a bit saddening to read all in one sitting, which is what I was trying to do, because we -- and I mean, we, the people, all of humanity, population planet Earth, that we -- have so much further to go. That being said, Jimmy and his wife Rosalyn have made a difference by allowing people far and wide to empower themselves. In many countries, it is best to allow the community to do the work, as they are not seen as outsiders trying to foist their ideology upon others. It also gives them transferable skills that they can use in their many endeavours. It's the "teach a woman to fish" approach.
While it was not easy to digest some of the atrocities occurring miles away and equally right next door, it was easy to understand. The former president writes with eloquence and style and, as a skilled orator and the author of twenty-plus books, I expected nothing less from the 39th POTUS. I can understand from the overseas work he writes about (and surely, all the work he doesn't mention, too) why he deserved the Nobel Peace Prize. He truly cares about women, considering it a human and civil rights struggle worth the fight. Ultimately, I feel that he believes that, by making us equal and together, the world can, will, and should be better.
No question, I can get behind that.
Book #36: A book and its prequel
I'll be honest. This was not my first choice.
I recall, a long time ago, reading The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe at eight years old and being totally bored. I don't remember anything I read. I only remember snippets from the movie that was released. So I don't know what possessed me to delve into the Chronicles of Narnia full-force, signing on to read not one but two instalments in the series.
I originally wanted to read Wide Sargasso Sea , by Jean Rhys, which is a prequel to the classic Brontë novel, Jane Eyre . Alas it was not to be. I knew I would never get through Jane in time, rendering Sargasso a no-go, too. (I vow to read them both one day. I'm fairly sure I'll enjoy them.)
So, here we are.
I started with Prince Caspian . I can't remember exactly why I picked this book as the starting point. It's been such a toil reading it that I couldn't recall when I first broke the spine. I faintly remember doing some light research on books and their prequels; I believe the pairing of two Narnia books was listed. I figured, it's children's literature; if nothing else it will be a fast read.
As anyone who has read Heart of Darkness will know, the page count does not determine how quickly you will finish the book. Your own enthuasiasm is the only factor that matters. And I was tepid about the Narnians and the Telmarines, let me tell you. It took me an eternity to get to that final battle between Prince Caspian (or, as it was, High King Peter acting on Prince Caspian's behalf, which I found oddly coward-like of Caspian, the young man who we as readers should be cheering on to be king choosing to not fight the foe himself, but oh, well, I didn't write the damn thing) and the usurper King Miraz. Not much else happened. I feel it was what we were building to in the end. However, the most interesting part of the book for me came early. I was drawn in by the Dwarf's retelling of Caspian's childhood, growing up in a castle as an orphaned son, his father killed by his uncle, the new King Miraz -- a total Hamlet scenario, if I ever saw one. The community has been mostly eradicated of Narnian magic, like the dwarves, the dryads, the centaurs, the giants, the talking animals, and so on and so forth. King Miraz disapproves of them so much that he hopes his nephew, Caspian, never learns of them, dismissing anyone who brings word of it into the castle, especially if it goes to the boy's ears. Still, Caspian will be king one day. That is, until King Miraz has a son of his own, an heir to his stolen throne, which means only one thing: Caspian must go. Not go, as in on a sojourn to the Alps where he happily lives the rest of his days as a sheep herder. No, he means go, as in on a permanant vacation, never coming back again, one-way ticket to corpseville.
So Caspian flees and bands together all the Narnians in hiding that King Miraz doesn't wish to talk about to take down his nefarious uncle.
And that is, in essence, the story. Yet so much of it is tied up in long-winded descriptions of the lake scum floating on the water and the cliffs conveniently located on your left. None of it matters and, in my opinion, doesn't provide atmospheric qualities so much as it bogs down the flow of the narrative and inflates the word count unnecessarily.
But I'm not done yet. After all, the prompt calls for a book and its prequel.
And that prequel is The Magician's Nephew . Now, based on having read Prince Caspian at this point, I assumed that somehow the uncle-nephew relationship between Miraz and Caspian would reemerge in this book, but I'm not quite sure about the magician part. Miraz was not a big fan of the ol' bibbity-bobbity-boo, but this story is a prequel, so maybe he did say his fair share of shazams back in the day. Who knows, right? It's Narnia. Anything can occur.
And yet nothing occurred. I picked it up. And I read about a quarter of it. And then I asked myself what I was doing with my life.
As much as I found Prince Caspian to be a bit of the dull side, I found that The Magician's Nephew was a sleeping aid. Reading should not pain you. It's recreational, not a root canal. I was reminded why, as a child, I never dove into the Chronicles of Narnia like so many had before. It's just not for me. And I couldn't read any more of it. I tried -- oh, how I tried -- but alas, no prequel was read.
Book #37: A book recommended by someone you just met
I put far too much time and thought into this prompt. First, I started to read a Noam Chomsky book, since a colleague mentioned how much he loved him. Even though it was a slim volume, I didn't care much for the subject matter.
Moving on, a client mentioned reading Maeve Binchy, specifically Chestnut Street . I think I would have enjoyed reading it. I like accounts of small-town life, what with my childhood growing up in a particularly small one. Frankly, it made Stars Hollow look like a bustling metropolis. However, I couldn't read Binchy's book because I had waited too long and there was a mountain of holds for it at the library. I wouldn't get to read it until next year.
Alas, I started to scrounge though time and recalled a book recommended to me by a librarian I am well acquainted with now but, at the time of the recommendation, I had only just met her. I figured that kind of fits, and I was all geared up to start reading In Cold Blood , by Truman Capote. I liked Breakfast at Tiffany's , so I figured I wouldn't mind reading another Capote book, especially one that is so iconic in the literary world.
And then another client mentioned The Couple Next Door , which sounded all right. It didn't register with me the way reading In Cold Blood did, but I felt it was more true to the prompt.
But finally, another client -- the customer base includes a heck of a lot of readers, clearly -- she mentioned reading The Girl On The Train . I was already chomping at the bit to read this book and her recommendation was just an excuse to do now what I was going to do anyway.
I devoured that book. The snow fell and I just ate up every word. I think it took me three days, in between working, to finish it. My bookmark was a transient, that's for sure, never quite finding a home at the end of this chapter or that.
I loved the suspense, the thrills, the twists, and the ambiguity. Even if I saw some of it coming, it was still fun to get there.
And I know the film has already come and gone out of the theatres. And I have to assume that the lithe and gorgeous Emily Blunt is probably playing Rachel -- at a guess, I haven't actually seen it yet -- and that should have sat in my head as a physical qualifier as I was reading, but no, I don't picture her at all. The writing is so vivid that I was able to concoct and preserve my own mental image of each character, the pointy cheekbones on Megan's face, the turned-up nose on Anna's. I saw Kamal in my mind's eye looking something like Naz from The Night Of, only a little taller, a little older.
It's really quite remarkable that my brain was able to transcend the Hollywood casting because trailers and ads often gets rammed down your throat so much that the actor is the character, in all sense of the world. The book cover changes to the film poster and the work is supposedly done for you, but you lose a little something in the process. Julia Roberts was never Elizabeth Gilbert to me when I read the book a year earlier, but after watching the same ad on TV ad nauseum, she was. I never pictured Cameron Diaz as Sara Fitzgerald, the mother of the girls from My Sister's Keeper , but after a mighty marketing campaign, they were one and the same. I'll never be able to reread that book and it not be Natalie from Charlie's Angels. Emilia Clarke stopped being the Khaleesi and was irreparably Lou from Me Before You. And Kristen Stewart is in a bit of a pickle, in love with a vampire and a werewolf, don't you think? (To be fair, I never read any of the Twilight books, but still, I can't imagine anyone reading them afterwards and picturing anyone but her.)
But not this time. The Girl On The Train was all mine. No studio bigwig was able to compromise it, which was a nice change.
And what a book it was. To me, it read like Gillian Flynn. And everybody already knows how I feel about Gillian Flynn. Yes, undoubtedly, The Girl On The Train has moments that scream Gone Girl, dark and twisted and incomplete tales with an unreliable narrator. To be fair, Gone Girl left me in the lurch much longer, trying to predict the moves before they occur. Still, while I figured out the whodunnit mystery in The Girl On The Train a touch too early, it's not so much about who did it, but why and how.
Books like these only crop up once a year, maybe twice if you're lucky, and often much less frequently than that. Like Gone Girl and The Millennium Trilogy, The Girl On The Train earns a top place on my bookshelf for encouraging me to gnaw my fingernails off and having the audacity to push me to the edge of my seat. And then shove me onto the tracks. She's just that kind of lady.
Book #38: A book you haven't read since high school
I never realized how many books I read in high school. And worse, I never realized how many I re-read. And that became a problem.
You see, the books I read in high school that I chose to read again at some other point were good reads. I liked them. That's why I read them again. One of my favourites was The Perks of Being A Wallflower , a book I hold near and dear to my heart. I also liked The Lovely Bones . There's some Shakespeare in there, like Othello , The Tempest , and Romeo and Juliet . I read The Poisonwood Bible , a massive and wonderful story of a missionary family in Africa that spans over decades. (If you haven't read it, I highly recommend it. As Ferris Bueller says, it is "so choice.") I have re-read these books since high school, so they don't count for the challenge. I own all of these books for a reason.
There are a few I haven't re-read, but these are the ones I didn't like in the first place. For example, I wasn't a fan of Frankenstein . I absolutely hated Heart of Darkness ; reading it felt like a trek through a shitty racist jungle that ended off with a whole lot of pointless death, so I guess it accomplished its goal (?). Needless to say, I wasn't picking that up again.
After much debate, I decided to go with something unconventional. In twelfth grade, I had to do a comparative essay, in which I looked at the common themes in Perks (because, as aforementioned, I loved that book already) and Ghost World . You see, my English teacher at the time was big on graphic novels. He believed they were the next art form or the future of literature, something to that effect. So, to appease him, I picked -- gasp! -- a graphic novel. Since that time, I've read quite a few graphic novels and found some of them to be particularly great. Of course, there's Watchmen , which is wonderful, but I also liked the Scott Pilgrim series, especially with its Canadian roots. In fact, I even read a few graphic novels for this challenge. So maybe my teacher had a lasting impact after all.
Now all I can recall from Ghost World is that it was a bit angsty. But upon re-reading, I realized that it tells the story of the hipster movement and the psychology of those who subscribe to it. I didn't know that back in twelfth grade, but hey, hindsight is twenty-twenty.
Ghost World is a melancholy coming-of-age tale, one very different to The Body, which, as you may recall, I read last month. Too cool to genuinely like anything, best friends Enid and Becky live their life with frowns upon their face interrupted with the occasional sarcastic smirk, their existences rife with ironic detachment. Ultimately, they're betrayed by the fact that they feel lost, alone, and scared by the big bad world; they are children acting like adults or what they think adults act like, while they delay the inevitable experience of growing up. In many ways, it is very sad because they want love and acceptance, but lean the other way just because it seems cooler in that light.
There's a natural flow to the conversation, and that casual, borderline stream-of-consciousness style makes the dialogue between Enid and Becky memorable, a remarkable quality that shines through despite the ambling plot. Although there isn't very much by way of story, you almost want to cry at the concealed emotions and the Peter-Pan-esque reluctance to accept that we can't stay children forever. Forced to leave behind those childhood playthings and happy-go-lucky records, Enid and Becky put their best foot forward and enter the real world, however frightening it may be.
I know that what I got out of Ghost World may not be what you will, but that's what makes it interesting. Just because I'm not fanatical about it doesn't mean it's not a good piece of literature. In fact, considering its brevity, I'd recommend everyone try it at least once.
Book #39: A romance set in the future
Someone told me that Ready Player One was a romance set in the future. So, I believed them.
What I got instead was a book so full and rich and whole, a completely different world within our own, which happened to also have a romance in it. I started raving about this book when I was only a third of the way through it. My sister bought it based upon my recommendation. My husband said it might just be his favourite book of all time. When I find something awesome, I want to share it with everyone.
There was bubble of hype enveloping Ready Player One, which gave those often unattainably sky-high expectations. This book could never be the book I anticipated. It just couldn't. It was an impossibility. And yet it did. In fact, it surpassed all of the bars I set. To say I liked the book is to put it mildly.
It's arguably science fiction, but as someone who isn't a fan of the genre, it never feels quite like that. Ernest Cline managed to paint a vivid world, starting from the Stacks and moving into the OASIS and beyond, a world that bonded with its readers through a bounty of relatable references and allusions to beloved works that ignite the genuine fandom in all of us. It's a world so richly detailed and defined that you believe it's real. It's a world that seems possible. In a way, it's its own kind of oasis for us readers.
It would be impossible to replicate a book of this magnitude. Sure, it is reminiscent of the scavenger-hunt-style plotlines in other books, such as the Triwizard Tournament in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, but that world is a fabricated world of fantasy. Ready Player One taps into reality and shows us something uniquely possible in our world, the one we live in catapulted forward a handful of decades. And Cline found a way to give meaning to the predominantly seventies- and eighties-set nostalgia reel that ties everything together in a beautiful bow.
I don't think I can go on and on about the book because I may let something slip. To describe this novel too intricately would betray readers, robbing them of a chance to indulge themselves in what has to be one of my favourite books of all time. I couldn't recommend it more.
Thank you, Ernest, for letting us play with you.
Book #40: A book that's more than 600 pages
I wanted to read Anna Karenina , but I had started that before January 2016. So, instead, I went with the first of the long-ass volumes of the Harry Potter series: the fifth instalment, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince .
This was a bad idea. I recall finding the Harry Potter series riveting as a child. I tore through the first four, especially adoring the fourth and its Tri-Wizard Tournament. But when the fifth book came out and I got about two to three chapters in, the magic was gone. I found it too slow, not matching in pace, mood, or tone of the others. Something was missing. And I learned that I wasn't the only one to feel this way. My husband -- same thing. Friends of mine -- same deal. We all dropped off at the fifth book. Now, I know that's not true for everyone, that they demolished that book in a day and loved it just as dearly as all that came before it, but I just wasn't one of them.
So, why would I try to speed-read this mountain of a book in a short period of time, knowing I didn't like it the first time? Because I am an idiot.
After trying again and feeling the need for some No-Doze, I tumbled upon this blog, courtesy of Hilary Goldstein. She said: "[B]asing a book on its length is about the dumbest thing you can do. If I read 40 great 200-page novels this year, that's better than reading one stinker just because it's 600+ pages."
Hilary's attitude toward reading a book purely because of its page count is spot-on. The prompt is ridiculous. Why read a book just because it's long? What can be gained from that? You're not being pushed into something varied, something you wouldn't normally read. You'd just pick up the longest book that you think you could get through in time. You know, like what I was trying to do. Sure, I didn't get through it, proof that I didn't really evaluate all that well, but that's beside the point.
Then I did some thinking and a little math. If a page count is all you want, I've got that in spades. I read, outside of the challenge, Think Like A Freak at 288 pages, Bad Feminist at 320 pages, The Sense of Style at 368 pages, X vs. Y: A Culture War, A Love Story at 192 pages, The Beast from the East at 144 pages, and Rich Dad, Poor Dad at 195 pages. That's more than 1500 pages of reading. And that's just a small selection from the massive number of times I went astray during this challenge, wandering away from the prompts to simply read for the sake of reading. I would say I have more than accumulated six hundred pages' worth of additional reading, wouldn't you? I feel like this prompt was fulfilled, regardless of the fact that I did it across many books, rather than one. I'm going to audaciously say I deserve a checkmark on that elusive Book #40 (and probably #41, too).
Because, in the end, isn't the point of this challenge to get you to read a lot, especially things you wouldn't normally read? I think I have had quite the diverse year of reading. I've read about American presidents, mermaids, rich dads, poor dads, the joys of farming, the dangers of sugar consumption, the global scope of women's rights, the generation gap and overlap between those born in the mid-seventies and those born in the late-eighties, casual home decor, care-free home organization, tech-heavy dating scenes, Indian weddings, Cuban fishermen, Canadian schoolgirls, teen cancer patients, teen Lotharios, teen actors, suicidal princes on interplanetary travels, brave princes in magical battles, animals running farms, reporters running home, and reporters avoiding home. I read books where an unemployed drunk, a gang of twelve-year-olds, and a tight-knit group of twelfth graders each solved their own missing persons case. I read how you can have it all, just not all at once. I read about two different Indian comedians (one born in America) who are successful TV comedians and how they still miss their parents. Those moments stuck with me. Those are the moments that allow you to learn about how we, human beings, are all universally connected in some ways.
Sure, some would say that's cheating. (Well, burn me at the stake.) I believe most would say I failed the PopSugar Reading Challenge. (More like a success struck down in its prime.) But let's consider that, purely in the name of this challenge, I managed to read thirty-nine books in one year -- and that's not counting all those books not included under some prompt on this list or even the dozens that I started but put down for one reason or another. For me, that is a win.
Until next time, happy reading!
It's difficult to fit reading seven books -- seven! -- in along with the usual holiday hustle-and-bustle. So difficult in fact that this is what happened:
Book #35: A political memoir
I wasn't too sure if Jimmy Carter's book A Call to Action actually qualified as a political memoir, seeing as it didn't do the typical biographical slant the way other memoirs do. However, since most of Jimmy Carter's post-presidential career (and pre-presidential, to some degree) dealt with his actions in trying to improve human rights, then I suppose it is a memoir, after all, detailing his life outside of the Oval Office. It still remains political, though, dealing with international efforts to improve women's rights on many fronts. He talks at length about how sex-selective abortions performed extensively in China and India to ensure that they have only sons and no daughters is, while a problem in and of itself, the trigger for sexual and physical abuse on women through child marriages, human trafficking, and prostitution, seeing as the disproportionately great number of males born in these environments demand women that just aren't there. The line of causation is easily drawn, but not so easily altered to improve conditions.
He talks about his life growing up in Georgia and how, although he works extensively with his wife through the Carter Center to improve women's lives around the world, his home is just as guilty of injustice towards women as Atlanta is "one of the preeminent human trafficking centers in the United States." He discusses the Bible and the Koran and how they support the idea of women's rights. He covers a wide range of topics, including "honour" killings, sexual assault, rape, spousal abuse, war, slavery, human trafficking, child marriage, dowry deaths, genital mutilation, maternal health, the pay gap, and political participation. Some of what he has observed in his life, we already know, but some of his findings surprised me, such as the great steps made forward in Morocco for women's rights.
The book is a bit saddening to read all in one sitting, which is what I was trying to do, because we -- and I mean, we, the people, all of humanity, population planet Earth, that we -- have so much further to go. That being said, Jimmy and his wife Rosalyn have made a difference by allowing people far and wide to empower themselves. In many countries, it is best to allow the community to do the work, as they are not seen as outsiders trying to foist their ideology upon others. It also gives them transferable skills that they can use in their many endeavours. It's the "teach a woman to fish" approach.
While it was not easy to digest some of the atrocities occurring miles away and equally right next door, it was easy to understand. The former president writes with eloquence and style and, as a skilled orator and the author of twenty-plus books, I expected nothing less from the 39th POTUS. I can understand from the overseas work he writes about (and surely, all the work he doesn't mention, too) why he deserved the Nobel Peace Prize. He truly cares about women, considering it a human and civil rights struggle worth the fight. Ultimately, I feel that he believes that, by making us equal and together, the world can, will, and should be better.
No question, I can get behind that.
Book #36: A book and its prequel
I'll be honest. This was not my first choice.
I recall, a long time ago, reading The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe at eight years old and being totally bored. I don't remember anything I read. I only remember snippets from the movie that was released. So I don't know what possessed me to delve into the Chronicles of Narnia full-force, signing on to read not one but two instalments in the series.
I originally wanted to read Wide Sargasso Sea , by Jean Rhys, which is a prequel to the classic Brontë novel, Jane Eyre . Alas it was not to be. I knew I would never get through Jane in time, rendering Sargasso a no-go, too. (I vow to read them both one day. I'm fairly sure I'll enjoy them.)
So, here we are.
I started with Prince Caspian . I can't remember exactly why I picked this book as the starting point. It's been such a toil reading it that I couldn't recall when I first broke the spine. I faintly remember doing some light research on books and their prequels; I believe the pairing of two Narnia books was listed. I figured, it's children's literature; if nothing else it will be a fast read.
As anyone who has read Heart of Darkness will know, the page count does not determine how quickly you will finish the book. Your own enthuasiasm is the only factor that matters. And I was tepid about the Narnians and the Telmarines, let me tell you. It took me an eternity to get to that final battle between Prince Caspian (or, as it was, High King Peter acting on Prince Caspian's behalf, which I found oddly coward-like of Caspian, the young man who we as readers should be cheering on to be king choosing to not fight the foe himself, but oh, well, I didn't write the damn thing) and the usurper King Miraz. Not much else happened. I feel it was what we were building to in the end. However, the most interesting part of the book for me came early. I was drawn in by the Dwarf's retelling of Caspian's childhood, growing up in a castle as an orphaned son, his father killed by his uncle, the new King Miraz -- a total Hamlet scenario, if I ever saw one. The community has been mostly eradicated of Narnian magic, like the dwarves, the dryads, the centaurs, the giants, the talking animals, and so on and so forth. King Miraz disapproves of them so much that he hopes his nephew, Caspian, never learns of them, dismissing anyone who brings word of it into the castle, especially if it goes to the boy's ears. Still, Caspian will be king one day. That is, until King Miraz has a son of his own, an heir to his stolen throne, which means only one thing: Caspian must go. Not go, as in on a sojourn to the Alps where he happily lives the rest of his days as a sheep herder. No, he means go, as in on a permanant vacation, never coming back again, one-way ticket to corpseville.
So Caspian flees and bands together all the Narnians in hiding that King Miraz doesn't wish to talk about to take down his nefarious uncle.
And that is, in essence, the story. Yet so much of it is tied up in long-winded descriptions of the lake scum floating on the water and the cliffs conveniently located on your left. None of it matters and, in my opinion, doesn't provide atmospheric qualities so much as it bogs down the flow of the narrative and inflates the word count unnecessarily.
But I'm not done yet. After all, the prompt calls for a book and its prequel.
And that prequel is The Magician's Nephew . Now, based on having read Prince Caspian at this point, I assumed that somehow the uncle-nephew relationship between Miraz and Caspian would reemerge in this book, but I'm not quite sure about the magician part. Miraz was not a big fan of the ol' bibbity-bobbity-boo, but this story is a prequel, so maybe he did say his fair share of shazams back in the day. Who knows, right? It's Narnia. Anything can occur.
And yet nothing occurred. I picked it up. And I read about a quarter of it. And then I asked myself what I was doing with my life.
As much as I found Prince Caspian to be a bit of the dull side, I found that The Magician's Nephew was a sleeping aid. Reading should not pain you. It's recreational, not a root canal. I was reminded why, as a child, I never dove into the Chronicles of Narnia like so many had before. It's just not for me. And I couldn't read any more of it. I tried -- oh, how I tried -- but alas, no prequel was read.
Book #37: A book recommended by someone you just met
I put far too much time and thought into this prompt. First, I started to read a Noam Chomsky book, since a colleague mentioned how much he loved him. Even though it was a slim volume, I didn't care much for the subject matter.
Moving on, a client mentioned reading Maeve Binchy, specifically Chestnut Street . I think I would have enjoyed reading it. I like accounts of small-town life, what with my childhood growing up in a particularly small one. Frankly, it made Stars Hollow look like a bustling metropolis. However, I couldn't read Binchy's book because I had waited too long and there was a mountain of holds for it at the library. I wouldn't get to read it until next year.
Alas, I started to scrounge though time and recalled a book recommended to me by a librarian I am well acquainted with now but, at the time of the recommendation, I had only just met her. I figured that kind of fits, and I was all geared up to start reading In Cold Blood , by Truman Capote. I liked Breakfast at Tiffany's , so I figured I wouldn't mind reading another Capote book, especially one that is so iconic in the literary world.
And then another client mentioned The Couple Next Door , which sounded all right. It didn't register with me the way reading In Cold Blood did, but I felt it was more true to the prompt.
But finally, another client -- the customer base includes a heck of a lot of readers, clearly -- she mentioned reading The Girl On The Train . I was already chomping at the bit to read this book and her recommendation was just an excuse to do now what I was going to do anyway.
I devoured that book. The snow fell and I just ate up every word. I think it took me three days, in between working, to finish it. My bookmark was a transient, that's for sure, never quite finding a home at the end of this chapter or that.
I loved the suspense, the thrills, the twists, and the ambiguity. Even if I saw some of it coming, it was still fun to get there.
And I know the film has already come and gone out of the theatres. And I have to assume that the lithe and gorgeous Emily Blunt is probably playing Rachel -- at a guess, I haven't actually seen it yet -- and that should have sat in my head as a physical qualifier as I was reading, but no, I don't picture her at all. The writing is so vivid that I was able to concoct and preserve my own mental image of each character, the pointy cheekbones on Megan's face, the turned-up nose on Anna's. I saw Kamal in my mind's eye looking something like Naz from The Night Of, only a little taller, a little older.
It's really quite remarkable that my brain was able to transcend the Hollywood casting because trailers and ads often gets rammed down your throat so much that the actor is the character, in all sense of the world. The book cover changes to the film poster and the work is supposedly done for you, but you lose a little something in the process. Julia Roberts was never Elizabeth Gilbert to me when I read the book a year earlier, but after watching the same ad on TV ad nauseum, she was. I never pictured Cameron Diaz as Sara Fitzgerald, the mother of the girls from My Sister's Keeper , but after a mighty marketing campaign, they were one and the same. I'll never be able to reread that book and it not be Natalie from Charlie's Angels. Emilia Clarke stopped being the Khaleesi and was irreparably Lou from Me Before You. And Kristen Stewart is in a bit of a pickle, in love with a vampire and a werewolf, don't you think? (To be fair, I never read any of the Twilight books, but still, I can't imagine anyone reading them afterwards and picturing anyone but her.)
But not this time. The Girl On The Train was all mine. No studio bigwig was able to compromise it, which was a nice change.
And what a book it was. To me, it read like Gillian Flynn. And everybody already knows how I feel about Gillian Flynn. Yes, undoubtedly, The Girl On The Train has moments that scream Gone Girl, dark and twisted and incomplete tales with an unreliable narrator. To be fair, Gone Girl left me in the lurch much longer, trying to predict the moves before they occur. Still, while I figured out the whodunnit mystery in The Girl On The Train a touch too early, it's not so much about who did it, but why and how.
Books like these only crop up once a year, maybe twice if you're lucky, and often much less frequently than that. Like Gone Girl and The Millennium Trilogy, The Girl On The Train earns a top place on my bookshelf for encouraging me to gnaw my fingernails off and having the audacity to push me to the edge of my seat. And then shove me onto the tracks. She's just that kind of lady.
Book #38: A book you haven't read since high school
I never realized how many books I read in high school. And worse, I never realized how many I re-read. And that became a problem.
You see, the books I read in high school that I chose to read again at some other point were good reads. I liked them. That's why I read them again. One of my favourites was The Perks of Being A Wallflower , a book I hold near and dear to my heart. I also liked The Lovely Bones . There's some Shakespeare in there, like Othello , The Tempest , and Romeo and Juliet . I read The Poisonwood Bible , a massive and wonderful story of a missionary family in Africa that spans over decades. (If you haven't read it, I highly recommend it. As Ferris Bueller says, it is "so choice.") I have re-read these books since high school, so they don't count for the challenge. I own all of these books for a reason.
There are a few I haven't re-read, but these are the ones I didn't like in the first place. For example, I wasn't a fan of Frankenstein . I absolutely hated Heart of Darkness ; reading it felt like a trek through a shitty racist jungle that ended off with a whole lot of pointless death, so I guess it accomplished its goal (?). Needless to say, I wasn't picking that up again.
After much debate, I decided to go with something unconventional. In twelfth grade, I had to do a comparative essay, in which I looked at the common themes in Perks (because, as aforementioned, I loved that book already) and Ghost World . You see, my English teacher at the time was big on graphic novels. He believed they were the next art form or the future of literature, something to that effect. So, to appease him, I picked -- gasp! -- a graphic novel. Since that time, I've read quite a few graphic novels and found some of them to be particularly great. Of course, there's Watchmen , which is wonderful, but I also liked the Scott Pilgrim series, especially with its Canadian roots. In fact, I even read a few graphic novels for this challenge. So maybe my teacher had a lasting impact after all.
Now all I can recall from Ghost World is that it was a bit angsty. But upon re-reading, I realized that it tells the story of the hipster movement and the psychology of those who subscribe to it. I didn't know that back in twelfth grade, but hey, hindsight is twenty-twenty.
Ghost World is a melancholy coming-of-age tale, one very different to The Body, which, as you may recall, I read last month. Too cool to genuinely like anything, best friends Enid and Becky live their life with frowns upon their face interrupted with the occasional sarcastic smirk, their existences rife with ironic detachment. Ultimately, they're betrayed by the fact that they feel lost, alone, and scared by the big bad world; they are children acting like adults or what they think adults act like, while they delay the inevitable experience of growing up. In many ways, it is very sad because they want love and acceptance, but lean the other way just because it seems cooler in that light.
There's a natural flow to the conversation, and that casual, borderline stream-of-consciousness style makes the dialogue between Enid and Becky memorable, a remarkable quality that shines through despite the ambling plot. Although there isn't very much by way of story, you almost want to cry at the concealed emotions and the Peter-Pan-esque reluctance to accept that we can't stay children forever. Forced to leave behind those childhood playthings and happy-go-lucky records, Enid and Becky put their best foot forward and enter the real world, however frightening it may be.
I know that what I got out of Ghost World may not be what you will, but that's what makes it interesting. Just because I'm not fanatical about it doesn't mean it's not a good piece of literature. In fact, considering its brevity, I'd recommend everyone try it at least once.
Book #39: A romance set in the future
Someone told me that Ready Player One was a romance set in the future. So, I believed them.
What I got instead was a book so full and rich and whole, a completely different world within our own, which happened to also have a romance in it. I started raving about this book when I was only a third of the way through it. My sister bought it based upon my recommendation. My husband said it might just be his favourite book of all time. When I find something awesome, I want to share it with everyone.
There was bubble of hype enveloping Ready Player One, which gave those often unattainably sky-high expectations. This book could never be the book I anticipated. It just couldn't. It was an impossibility. And yet it did. In fact, it surpassed all of the bars I set. To say I liked the book is to put it mildly.
It's arguably science fiction, but as someone who isn't a fan of the genre, it never feels quite like that. Ernest Cline managed to paint a vivid world, starting from the Stacks and moving into the OASIS and beyond, a world that bonded with its readers through a bounty of relatable references and allusions to beloved works that ignite the genuine fandom in all of us. It's a world so richly detailed and defined that you believe it's real. It's a world that seems possible. In a way, it's its own kind of oasis for us readers.
It would be impossible to replicate a book of this magnitude. Sure, it is reminiscent of the scavenger-hunt-style plotlines in other books, such as the Triwizard Tournament in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, but that world is a fabricated world of fantasy. Ready Player One taps into reality and shows us something uniquely possible in our world, the one we live in catapulted forward a handful of decades. And Cline found a way to give meaning to the predominantly seventies- and eighties-set nostalgia reel that ties everything together in a beautiful bow.
I don't think I can go on and on about the book because I may let something slip. To describe this novel too intricately would betray readers, robbing them of a chance to indulge themselves in what has to be one of my favourite books of all time. I couldn't recommend it more.
Thank you, Ernest, for letting us play with you.
I wanted to read Anna Karenina , but I had started that before January 2016. So, instead, I went with the first of the long-ass volumes of the Harry Potter series: the fifth instalment, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince .
This was a bad idea. I recall finding the Harry Potter series riveting as a child. I tore through the first four, especially adoring the fourth and its Tri-Wizard Tournament. But when the fifth book came out and I got about two to three chapters in, the magic was gone. I found it too slow, not matching in pace, mood, or tone of the others. Something was missing. And I learned that I wasn't the only one to feel this way. My husband -- same thing. Friends of mine -- same deal. We all dropped off at the fifth book. Now, I know that's not true for everyone, that they demolished that book in a day and loved it just as dearly as all that came before it, but I just wasn't one of them.
So, why would I try to speed-read this mountain of a book in a short period of time, knowing I didn't like it the first time? Because I am an idiot.
After trying again and feeling the need for some No-Doze, I tumbled upon this blog, courtesy of Hilary Goldstein. She said: "[B]asing a book on its length is about the dumbest thing you can do. If I read 40 great 200-page novels this year, that's better than reading one stinker just because it's 600+ pages."
Hilary's attitude toward reading a book purely because of its page count is spot-on. The prompt is ridiculous. Why read a book just because it's long? What can be gained from that? You're not being pushed into something varied, something you wouldn't normally read. You'd just pick up the longest book that you think you could get through in time. You know, like what I was trying to do. Sure, I didn't get through it, proof that I didn't really evaluate all that well, but that's beside the point.
Then I did some thinking and a little math. If a page count is all you want, I've got that in spades. I read, outside of the challenge, Think Like A Freak at 288 pages, Bad Feminist at 320 pages, The Sense of Style at 368 pages, X vs. Y: A Culture War, A Love Story at 192 pages, The Beast from the East at 144 pages, and Rich Dad, Poor Dad at 195 pages. That's more than 1500 pages of reading. And that's just a small selection from the massive number of times I went astray during this challenge, wandering away from the prompts to simply read for the sake of reading. I would say I have more than accumulated six hundred pages' worth of additional reading, wouldn't you? I feel like this prompt was fulfilled, regardless of the fact that I did it across many books, rather than one. I'm going to audaciously say I deserve a checkmark on that elusive Book #40 (and probably #41, too).
Because, in the end, isn't the point of this challenge to get you to read a lot, especially things you wouldn't normally read? I think I have had quite the diverse year of reading. I've read about American presidents, mermaids, rich dads, poor dads, the joys of farming, the dangers of sugar consumption, the global scope of women's rights, the generation gap and overlap between those born in the mid-seventies and those born in the late-eighties, casual home decor, care-free home organization, tech-heavy dating scenes, Indian weddings, Cuban fishermen, Canadian schoolgirls, teen cancer patients, teen Lotharios, teen actors, suicidal princes on interplanetary travels, brave princes in magical battles, animals running farms, reporters running home, and reporters avoiding home. I read books where an unemployed drunk, a gang of twelve-year-olds, and a tight-knit group of twelfth graders each solved their own missing persons case. I read how you can have it all, just not all at once. I read about two different Indian comedians (one born in America) who are successful TV comedians and how they still miss their parents. Those moments stuck with me. Those are the moments that allow you to learn about how we, human beings, are all universally connected in some ways.
Sure, some would say that's cheating. (Well, burn me at the stake.) I believe most would say I failed the PopSugar Reading Challenge. (More like a success struck down in its prime.) But let's consider that, purely in the name of this challenge, I managed to read thirty-nine books in one year -- and that's not counting all those books not included under some prompt on this list or even the dozens that I started but put down for one reason or another. For me, that is a win.
Until next time, happy reading!
