Wherein We Discover That Some Opera Scholars Are Dumb

Oh man, you thought I wasn't going to update today, but you were WRONG. Because my friend Hannah and I started setting up our January/February book club and I now have to talk about it.

I believe one day a month or so ago, Hannah and I essentially said "We don't know enough about German history. Let's read somethin'." For me, this was motivated by reading Sophie's Choice and it's like "Yeah, the Nazis were the clearest modern depiction of evil, but WHY were they that way whyyyyyyy?"

So we found a book called Iron Kingdom: The Rise and Downfall of Prussia, 1600-1947. And we formed what Hannah has dubbed 'Alice & Hannah's Book Club of Super Fun.' WHICH IS THE BEST NAME EVER. Aren't you just automatically like 'Bam! I want to join that book club. But I can't, because I am not Alice or Hannah.' *sadface*

In other news, I have two and a half days to finish my 2011 TBR Challenge (link to Adam's blog found on the right if you're reading this on my blog instead of on Google Reader like a suckah). I just started Understanding the Women of Mozart's Operas, and I'm like halfway through State by State: A Panoramic Portrait of America. I keep telling myself I can do this. I CAN DO THIS.

Understanding is actually really kickass so far. So, in Don Giovanni, the titular character (eponymous hero? nah, he's not a hero) is Don Juan, but Italianified. And at the very beginning, he breaks into this noblewoman Donna Anna's bedroom and either rapes or TRIES to rape her. She comes on stage struggling with him and swearing vengeance and all that, and her father comes out to defend her honor and Don Giovanni kills him.

One of the goals of the book I'm reading is to eliminate centuries of critical interpretation and look back at the source text. Also to help the reputations of Mozart's ladies, because a lot get accused of not cool things that are MAYBE not textually supported. Complit majors: We Like Textual Support.

So one of the critics of Donna Anna said -- in 1977 -- "All men, to her, are beasts, and it would be beneficial to her personal growing-up if she had been pleasantly raped by Don Juan."

I KNOW RIGHT. That was William Mann. Everyone hate on him.

People also say that she was sekritly in love with Don Giovanni because rather than wanting to discuss marriage with her fiance, she's focused on vengeance against her unknown attacker. I love that they're completely ignoring that SHE WAS SEXUALLY ASSAULTED AND THEN WATCHED HER FATHER GET KILLED BY THE MAN WHO ASSAULTED HER.

People are idiots.

Norwegian Wood: The Planning Post

You all remember this?

So, after some panicking on my part, and the over-taxed Chicago Public Library taking weeks and weeks to send my copy (it's been in transit for about three or four weeks now), I finally caved and bought it on Kindle (even though the Kindle price is more than the paperback -- COME ON PUBLISHERS).

Tuesdays worked well last time, because then you get to panic on Mondays and not Sundays that you haven't done the reading. Makes the weekend more relaxing. But if people want to do Wednesdays instead because of Top Ten Tuesday being such a big meme, let me know and I'll shift everything forward a day (except the 31st, because I REFUSE TO GO INTO JANUARY). Here's the schedule:

January 3rd: Intro posts. How do you feel about Murakami/have you read anything of his before/whatever you want to say; I am merely your faciliator.

January 10th: Chapters 1 through 4

January 17th: Chapters 5 & 6

January 24th: Chapters 7 through 9

January 31st: Chapters 10 & 11

If you want to read ahead, obviously, do it -- we're stretching a 300 page book over a month. But we're probably all going to be reading other things, so no huge assignments -- this is considerably denser than The Help (thank God).

In honor of the last readalong, here's Hilly weeping over her toilet yard (see how much fun we have?):

Post-Christmas Posting!

Excuse me while I pause from my frantic attempt to finish three books in the next five days (do we all remember how long Sophie's Choice took? yeah, this is something of a Quixotean quest for me).

But look at the book-related stuff I got!:

Ok, so two of those I asked for (thank you, Rayna at Libereading, for recommending Ex Libris), but the ones in the center were given to me by my oldest brother. I got a shitload of Doctor Who-related items this Christmas — SO SURPRISING — and Chicks Dig Timelords is a collection of DW-related feminist essays. Daaaaamn. And, of course, 5 Very Good Reasons to Punch a Dolphin in the Mouth is a collection of comics by The Oatmeal.

I obviously wish you all lived near me so we could play Book Lover's Trivial Pursuit.

Now. Nabokov. I've maligned him somewhat in the past week, but Speak, Memory is actually really good and you all should kind of maybe sorta read it.  That's as strong a recommendation as I'm going to give him, because I'm still bitter about all the other books of his I had to read. But reading his sort-of-autobiography-but-more-an-exercise-in-memory makes his work more understandable. 

Also, dude was INTO butterflies. Which — brief language aside — did you know that the French for butterfly is 'papillon', which sounds nice and fluttery, and the German is "Schmetterling" which sounds like an elephantine creature that thunders around a dark forest? 

You know how we talked about how he's careful with Every Single Word he chooses, and it's kind of annoying because then you have to pay extra attention since it is all important or at least he thinks it is? Yeah, so, sometimes that pays off and you get descriptions like this of when he was about 16 and started writing poetry:

A moment later my first poem began. What touched it off? I think I know. Without any wind blowing, the sheer weight of a raindrop, shining in parasitic luxury on a cordate leaf, caused its tip to dip, and what looked like a globule of quicksilver performed a sudden glissando down the center vein, and then, having shed its bright load, the relieved leaf unbent.

 PARASITIC LUXURY ON A CORDATE LEAF. GOOD LORD. I can't even handle that sentence.

You all have a swell Christmas? I do indeed hope so. Other people don't seem to be posting photos of their books, so PLEASE DO SO.

I leave you with this:

Light of My Life, Fire etc etc etc

Have you ever read Nabokov? Here's a sample sentence: "This slow, somewhat somnambulistic ascension in self-engendered darkness held obvious delights." That's about him as a child walking up some stairs with his eyes closed.

That's actually one of my favorite sentences of his in recent memory, because you look at each word and it's like "daamn, self-engendered darkness -- that's EXACTLY what it is."

That being said, I both like and really don't like him.

I've mentioned before that in college I took a course on him because my favorite professor was teaching it. We read eight -- EIGHT -- of his books, a fact by which I am still outraged because it's more than I've read of many authors I quite like. And now with Speak, Memory, I'm just adding to that number. Boo.

But as with anything you're over-exposed to, I have a weird fondness for him. I'll say an affectionate "Nabokov, you bastard" when he decides to write his millionth inside-joke-with-himself into his book. Because that's what he does. There are innumerable jokes-just-for-him and tricks in his books and I HATE THAT, but I've gotten used to it. I'm just kind of resigned to not getting a vast portion of what I read of his.

What did I enjoy, you say? Why, a few things.

Invitation to a Beheading. I took my Nabokov course at the same time I took a Dickens course, and Invitation was SO WELCOME by the time I finished the semester. Because Dickens is great in small amounts. Meaning one book. Maybe two. When you get to the third or fourth in a small amount of time, you want to murder the Victorian era and all its strictures. "Oh, of COURSE this is going to happen and this other thing can't happen, because that was the accepted morality/decorum." I was so sick of Victorian lit by the end of that course, all I wanted was its antithesis. Which would be Invitation, because it is INSANE and has no rules.

Check out this synopsis: "The novel takes place in a prison and relates the final twenty days of Cincinnatus C., a citizen of a fictitious country, who is imprisoned and sentenced to death for 'gnostical turpitude.'" Only there is more. Fantastic, weirdass book.

Lolita just irritated me. When searching my e-mail for Feelings At the Time of Reading It, I came across this note to my brother: "People who say Atlas Shrugged and Lolita are their favorite books are a particular kind of dumb."

I still stand by that to a certain degree, but I have more tolerance for it than I used to, i.e. people can say they like it and I won't instantly name them pretentious literary wannabes.

Basically I'm just a big fan of Pnin and Pale Fire. They are both awesome AND, bonus, were first written in English, so you're not getting the translated versions. 

This was obviously a necessary post.

YEAH. More Top Ten Things. Everyone Loves Those.

Some people would say I already did a 2011 wrap-up, but to them I say IT IS STILL ONLY THE 21ST LEAVE ME ALONE.

I'm gonna do a top 10 list, 'cause I love that shit.

Best Books I Read in 2011

I'm not gonna think too hard about this, so it's probably at least kind of incorrect. But trust that these books were all awesome and should be read.

1. The Witch of Blackbird Pond - Yeah, I didn't read it when I was little. Yeah, it's still awesome if you read it in your 20s. Yeah, I called the local library of Wethersfield, CT and asked if they had any kind of sites to see in their town related to the book.

2. Middlesex - If you don't know by now that everyone thinks this book is awesome, why are you reading book blogs, because you obviously don't absorb information.

3. Will Grayson, Will Grayson - Yes yes, it's very good.

4. Sophie's Choice - There's no way I'm not listing this.

5. The Family Fang - This has just kind of stuck with me? I really liked it. I loved the family, despite the parents being kind of assholes but not quite.

6. The Old Curiosity Shop - DICK SWIVELLER I LOVE YOU. Ignore Little Nell. Read for Dick Swiveller.

7. The New York Regional Mormon Singles Halloween Dance - I've recommended this too much. I'm just a fan.

8. How to Leave Twitter - If you're on twitter and haven't read this, I don't get you.

9. Unfamiliar Fishes - I wasn't that into it after I finished it, BUT I've used the information I learned about Hawaii a LOT this year. Plus I still love Sarah Vowell, so I'll rec anything she writes.

10. Ragtime - Did you know there's a musical of this and it's awesome and the book is similarly awesome?

MERRY ALMOST-CHRISTMAS, ALL

My Photoshop Abilities Are Obviously Beyond Compare

The fine Julie from Contractually Obligated to Like Books, friend, food companion and LOTR-marathoning-buddy, has a birthday today. Let there be much rejoicing. Her blog is both funny and smart and you should all check it out. If I had a friend with a shitty blog, I wouldn't recommend it, people. I have STANDARDS. But it does help that Julie has gone to a Tina-Fey-recommended Greek chicken place with me not once, but TWICE. FOOD BUDDIES FOREVER.

As for Top Ten Tuesday's "Ten Books I Hope Santa Brings" topic, the answer is ZERO. I WANT NO BOOKS. I HAVE TOO MANY.

Wait, that's a lie. I want Iron Kingdom: The Rise and Downfall of Prussia, 1600-1947, because my friend Hannah and I decided we don't know enough about Prussia.

BAM. List DONE.


edit: Book PURCHASED by my mom. I now want no books.

Christmas Is in Six Days and I'm Going to Be Happy, Damnit

Can we talk about books I love the pants off of?

It's almost Christmas, joyful time of the year, etc etc. So these are books that make me joyous. Or about which I literally flail.

Or do this.

House of Mirth. Someone on tumblr posted a graphic from the movie and I instantly remembered HOUSE OF MIRTH I LOVE YOU AND LILY BART YOU ARE AMAZING LET ME GIVE YOU A HUG. I first read HoM when I was 15, and while I've never "technically" re-read it totally, I chose to write a Complit paper on it in college and rediscovered its layers upon layers of meaning. Wharton, you are a genius. Just for that, I'm reposting my graphic of you accompanying Henry James to a gay club (which you would totes do if then were now):

Middlemarch. This is entirely due to my preoccupation with Will Ladislaw and Dorothea Brooke. Also Dorothea Brooke is my favorite literary heroine ever because I RELATE TO HER. Mainly because I too used to have the jackass, Christian school opinion that I wanted to marry a great man whom I could be a kind of aide to. Are you guys going crazy with all the dangling prepositions in this entry? DEAL WITH IT.

Auntie Mame. I've talked about this book before. It's by Patrick Dennis, and TOO NEGLECTED today, although it fortunately is still in print (unlike most of his other novels). The movie's great, the book is great, the musical's great, but not the movie musical. Stayyy away. Basically it's funny and smart, which is the best of combinations.

Bleak House. This is not a novel choice (HAH!), but I love the pants AND face off this book. Freshman year of college, I hated Dickens. And so when my Victorian Lit and Culture class assigned this, I groaned loudly. And then I realized I was an idiot, because Mrs. Jellyby! Lady Dedlock! Mr Guppy! Jo! Mrs. Pardiggle! George! So many people who make me hug my B&N Awesome Edition. The amazing amazingness of Bleak House made me do a 180 on Dickens and yell things like "YOU JUST DON'T UNDERSTAND" when people insult Lady Dedlock.

Four is good, right? Sure. Oh, also Gone With the Wind. That shit's great.

Sophie's Choice. It...Is...Done.

Yeah. I did it. I finished Sophie's Choice. It's basically the saddest book ever, so this will be gif-heavy to try to balance the Holocaust + domestic abuse goin' on. First: HURRAY IT'S DONE!

But then there's also the whole "Oh it's done." *sadface* Because, and despite what I am going to say regarding its IMMENSE SADNESS, it is amazing. William Styron is a Writer Who Can Write. He's all "LOOK AT THE MAGICAL MIXTURE I MAKE WITH WORDS! I have a CRAFT and I do it well." He kiind of reminds me of Nabokov (whose autobiography I still have to read this year), because both pay SUCH careful attention to which words they're going to use, so you never feel like they were just trying to use whatever to communicate an idea — no, each word is important and chosen for a reason.

This can also be maddening because, knowing that, it can take forever to read if you really want to appreciate it.

Oh, right, what is Sophie's Choice about. Essentially it's William Styron as the narrator, talking about the summer of 1947 when at age 22, living in Brooklyn and trying to be a writer, he met a woman (Sophie) and her boyfriend (Nathan). It pretty much alternates between Sophie being beaten up by Nathan when he goes into a schizophrenic rage, and her telling Styron (or "Stingo" as he's nicknamed for some reason he outlines early on) about her time in Auschwitz.

Yeah, Auschwitz.

It's pretty much a Holocaust book. I don't even know how to begin to do it justice, because I'm not one of those bloggers who likes to, y'know, "think" before she writes things down, but basically when you finish the book, despite every page being something hugely sad, you feel like you've learned and experienced a stunning amount. I finished it on the El last night headed back into Chicago, and I just kind of...sat there after closing it. And then thought about how much more I felt like I knew, about the camps and human experience and just — damn, it's an amazing book.

True, this will be you every 50 pages or so:

But it's worth it.

Towards the end, Sophie recounts a scene with a Jewish resistance fighter, who speaks of encountering a hostile Polish Resistance group:

"He looked at Wanda, filled with this rage and despair, and said, 'Three pistols I get, and sneers and laughter, to hold off twenty thousand Nazi troops. In the name of God, what is happening?'"

World War II was seventy years ago, which is NOT LONG AGO ENOUGH. At the very least, this book allows you space to contemplate how on EARTH that atrocity happened. How did we allow that? And by immersing yourself in it, you are able to leave the comfort and relative peace of your surroundings and solidify in your mind the knowledge that we cannot allow it to happen again.

French Things, It's Friday, and I Hate Austenland

I AM SORRY I HAD TO.

You guys. Have you read my friend Katie's review of Stephen King's 11/22/63? You should, because it's hilarious.

My mom just called and told me that some people are going into K-Marts and paying off other people's layaway bills for Christmas toys. I am now teary. How is this related to books? IT ISN'T GET INTO THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT EBENEZER.

I have precisely 12 pages of Sophie's Choice left, and it's just kind of sitting there next to me, which makes me the worst reader of all time. I've also, not kidding, done this when I've had two pages left of a book. "Yeah, I'll get to that later on." I'm a bad enough reader that I probably shouldn't have a book blog, but then where would I post gifs? Google+? We know that's not an actual option.

In other news, I have started La Comédie humaine by Balzac. I'm a third of the way through La Maison du chat qui pelote, and what's happened so far is young Théodore is in love with young Augustine, who has ivory skin and rosy cheeks and is, of course, 18-years-old. But he's a painter, her dad's a businessman, so, problems. That is pretty much the ENTIRETY of the first third of the book. He just kind of stands outside her house and looks at her window. Oh, The French.

In OTHER other news, I just discovered they're making a film of Austenland, which at first literally made me howl in despair (my priorities in life are not great), but then I saw the cast and INSTANTLY became conflicted. Because Jennifer Coolidge is playing a role I know she will make hilarious. And Bret McKenzie from Flight of the Conchords is in it. And Jane Seymour. Screw you, movie! I will see you, but I will complain about you.

2011 Wrap-Up Despite 2011 Not Being Over

Have you all noticed that EVERYONE is updating today? Like, to the point where I almost didn't. But then I said "Screw that! I'm adding to everyone's feeds!"

You know what I enjoy? Ridiculous categories. Let's create some.

Book I Most Expected to Be Horrible But Which Exceeded My Horribleness Expectations: Twilight. What a piece of shit that book is. All I have to say is: "I would have been angrier if his laughter wasn't so fascinating."

Classic That Is Actually Eye-Poking-Out Bad: The Scarlet Pimpernel. I have a tag for that book. And it's not "OMG THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL IS AMAZING." Because I am not a dirty liar.

Lesbian Book Everyone Loved But Which I Don't Get Because It Is SO VAGUE: Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit. You know who sympathized with me about this book? My 15-year-old cousin Kathleen, who had to read it for school. SHE got that it was maddeningly vague. When I picked it up I was all "Hurray! A book with sexy ladytimes!" But you know what was missing? SEXY LADYTIMES. Instead it was all "Wait, what just happened? Is she still 12? No wait, that would be horrible. She's 18 here. I think. Maybe?" And like...the whole book was like that. I need CLEAR, DEFINED HAPPENINGS. And ideally, some ladies in 19th c. dresses looking soulfully at each other while drinking tea.

Best 'I'm a Funny Person and I'm Gonna Write a Book' Book: Humorous essay collections. So hot right now. Bossypants by Tina Fey (like you needed me to say that), The Bedwetter by Sarah Silverman, and Happy Accidents by Jane Lynch all got 4/5 from me on Goodreads. But you know what got 5/5? How to Leave Twitter by Grace Dent. It's still available for Kindle for less than six bucks. It's hilarious, and Julie and I have both adopted 'multi-application spiraling circle of hell syndrome' as a term.

Best Book I Ignored for Ages Because I Didn't Want to Read About Gay Dudes But Then It Turned Out to Be Amazing: Will Grayson, Will Grayson. This is seriously awesome. To the point of me being willing to read anything else by the authors. Everyone should read it; I don't care what your genre preferences are.

Book I Have Most Referred to Through the Year: The New York Regional Mormon Singles Halloween Dance. Get it, read it, love it.

So there's that. I feel bad not mentioning a bunch of other books. Read The Family Fang if you can. Kissing the Witch by Emma Donoghue (author of Room) is an awesome collection of kind-of-lesbianized fairytales, but aside from that it's just really well done. The Parasol Protectorate  and Mennonite in a Little Black Dress were disappointing. If you ignore Little Nell, The Old Curiosity Shop is truly excellent.

In other news, excluding memoirs, I read precisely three nonfiction books this year. That's not...good. Gotta work on that.

Pay Attention Emily Brown Is the Bee's Knees

Welcome to I-recommend-a-book-and-yeah-I'm-kind-of-biased-but-it's-WAY-AWESOME.

My mother is one of those Force to Be Reckoned With people, and that is not said idly. People come away from her shaken and awed. Nurses in hospitals (she has some health issues) quail before her imperious gaze, and those who try to patronize her emerge from the encounter a husk of their former self.

She wrote a book for children!

Two of my three brothers have had attention issues, and a very long time ago, my mother wrote a poem called Pay Attention, Emily Brown. My brother Carl, who is a super-weirdo artist, finally said he would illustrate it, and behold!:

Yeeeah, I know what you're thinking. 'GOOD LORD WHERE CAN I PURCHASE THIS FOR A CHILD IN MY LIFE?'

The answer would be "A bookstore." Come unto me, for I have the answers, my friends!

An example of the kind of talk you unfortunately will not find in the book (although you will find a message of love and patience and generally adorable illustrations) is this conversation betwixt myself and my mother when I mentioned goodreads:

My mom: Goodreads? My book should be on greatreads.
Me: That's funny.
My mom: Greatreads? That's not funny, that's accurate. Don't give me shit.

She's a special lady.

And! For your further viewing pleasure, here's a kickass drawing my oldest and weirdest brother did:

Look at that fine illustration. Just kind of makes you proud to be an American. (unless you're not, in which case your country is very nice as well)

Anyway, yes, so it's a lovely book and since my family has created nothing else in the field of literature, this is the only such entry I will make. Huzzah for children's books!

In Which I Am Too Chummy With People I Don't Know

I'm going to briefly go into love for authors as people despite one not knowing them, BUT FIRST, I want to relate something my friend Stephanie said, because it's one of those times you realize your friends know you better than you know yourself.

CASE IN POINT being that today I bought a drawing of the Doctor and River Song from Doctor Who -- yeah, a drawing -- and I sent Stephanie a link to it and this is how the conversation went:

Stephanie: I feel like this is the beginning of the end.

Me: beginning of the end of what!

S: the beginning of the end of your obsession.

Me: why! [I don't use question marks when I'm indignant]

S: Because it always starts winding down after you purchase the most ridiculous item.

And then I was shamed into silence. Because that is an accurate statement.

NOW. Authors. I tend to ignore them if they're still alive, and sometimes I avoid as much biographical detail about them as I can, because they carry with them an air of douchiness (ex: Dickens), but with SOME authors, I have a fondness for them that carries me through some of their not-so-stellar writing. Mainly because of passages like this, by Virginia Woolf:

Seriously and solemnly Richard Dalloway got on his hind legs and said that no decent man ought to read Shakespeare’s sonnets because it was like listening at keyholes (besides the relationship was not one that he approved). No decent man ought to let his wife visit a deceased wife’s sister. Incredible! The only thing to do was to pelt him with sugared almonds

Virginia Woolf (who will appear in my mind, despite it supposedly being Clarissa Dalloway) pelting someone with sugared almonds is basically my favorite authorial image ever.  And so now, despite having heard her speak, I still love her.

I also have a weird kind of love for the Brontes, which primarily manifests itself in bemused condescension. Like "Aw, you crazy women up on the moors, look at this stuff you wrote."

I make fun of George Eliot's appearance every time I mention her, but if I met her in real life, I guarantee this is how it'd go:

Me: Uh...hello, Miss Eliot. I've read Middlemarch and it sure was swell.

George Eliot: *stares me down*

Me: *even less confident* How'd you...so that writing there...it's pretty great.

George Eliot: *stares me down more*
Me: *passes out*

Because when faced with people about whom I have all sorts of IN-DEPTH AND IMPRESSIVE thoughts, I seem to never fail telling them only the most banal things possible. It's a gift.

Lastly -- and I realize these are only women, but I have already proposed to Steve Hely once on this blog and my wounded pride will not allow me to revisit the subject -- lastly, there is Jane Austen. I once referred to her as "Janie" and my friend made me promise never to do it again.

Is this just me? Does anyone else foster relationships in their head with long-dead authors? Although put that way, I guess it doesn't sound ideal in terms of a thing to do. But it makes the Victorian era so much more fun.

Lesbian Pop Culture and Masculine American Men

First off, are you all reading Dorothy Snarker? You know how gay men comment on pop culture a lot? (shut it, they do) Well, this is a gay lady and she is HILARIOUS and has provided me with hours of reading material. And even though I don't watch Glee, I find myself fascinated by some kind of two-characters-didn't-kiss-or-did-they controversy over what constitutes kissing, part of the argument of which involves what she calls "The Great Neck Nuzzle of 2010." Love. LOVE. And best blog name award, it goes to her.

Sorry. Right. Book blog. But HILARIOUS NEW BLOGS, I am so fond of them.

I haven't been reading this week, due to having the toothache and the headache and the stomachache and other body part + ache combinations. Also the general problem of me being addicted to things like Tumblr and staying up too late looking at them and then just sitting there like an especially lumpy lump at work the next day, too filled with a general malaise of dumbness to even open my Kindle for PC app.

American authors. How about we talk about American authors. Guess what I didn't study in college? Ok, lots of things, but those especially. I did 19th century British and French lit, and when I asked if I could take one American lit class and have it count for my major, the head of the Comparative Lit department said "NO THEY ARE DIFFERENT CULTURES YOU STAY AWAY -- GO READ MORE BALZAC." 

Add to that my high school's horrible English Department, and I've read pretty much nothing of what I'm supposed to read. Here are the authors I think of when I hear about American authors:

Hemingway

Faulkner

Updike

John Irving

Jack London

Emerson

And...others. I guess. I've pretty much covered the ladies, because I'm a ladyist, and I've read enough Steinbeck (although is there ever really enough, people?), plus James, Twain (gag), and Hawthorne. But American lit is SO DOMINATED BY DUDES. Particularly in the 20th century. Shouldn't that trend have been reversed? Where are all the Literary Giantesses for America in the 20th century? Whenever I hear about the authors in the above list, I think 'Omg they just sound so BORING.' Because they're all Guys. Not guys, Guys. Just...men sitting around with their three-quarters-empty glass of whiskey, talking about how some two-dimensional female character screwed them over, and then moving on to how they used to go fishing with their father.

That's how I imagine all of Hemingway's novels.

At least with 19th century novels by British dudes, you have characters saying "What-ho!" and adjusting their cravats and the like. THAT I will read.

Children's Books Are the Best and I Shall Hear No More About It

All right. I was trying to give you all a brief respite, but today's Top Ten Tuesday (hosted by The Broke and the Bookish) is too good, so you only get Monday off from me. Here, to make it up for you, is THE BEST GIF OF ALL TIME:

IT'S A BABY POLAR BEAR BEING TICKLED

top ten childhood favorites

It seems a matter of debate as to when childhood was, so I'm just gonna choose books up until I was...I dunno, 13? Sure. That. And I know I'm gonna forget a lot of influential books, but oh well. Let's get all the terrible series books out of the way first.

1. The Babysitters Little Sister - Yeah, I read these. A lot of them, too. I specifically remember the woman at the bookstore saying I probably wasn't old enough for Babysitter's Club, so I should read this. Hopefully I wasn't like ten but stupid-looking. Anyway, I loved these, but they're what prompted my mother's rule for my childhood that she would buy me whatever book I wanted so long as it wasn't dumb (these counted as dumb).

2. Goosebumps/Fear Street - Man, just like one could graduate from Babysitters Little Sister to Babysitter's Club, you went from R.L. Stine's Goosebumps series, which was AMAZING, to Fear Street, which was disgusting. I specifically remember an Irish Setter dying in one beach-themed one and there being chunks of his flesh with hair still on them floating in the water. Gross, sir. BUT, totally engaging until you realized his formula was literally always suspect the least suspected. That quiet girl in the corner over there? Yeah, she's secretly the child your parents abandoned and has been slowly killing off your friends while working her way to your ultimate doom. My favorites were the ones that went into the history of Fear Street, because they took place In the Past and daaaaymn, I love me some Past.

3. Thoroughbred series - Yeah, I was obsessed with horses. Horses were the best. These came out once a month and that was NOT OFTEN ENOUGH, but I stopped cold when they ended one book on a cliffhanger, because even as a ten-year-old I WAS NOT GOING TO BE SUCKERED INTO BUYING YOUR NEXT BOOK. If I liked it, I liked it. No manipulation, authors.

4. Bloom County/Calvin & Hobbes/Fox Trot - I read a lot of comic strip collections growing up. And they heavily influenced my brain. Bloom County is still my favorite. 

5. The Whipping Boy - Um, this book is kickass AND has great illustrations AND won the Newbery.

6. Anything by S.E. Hinton - I went through a weird phase when I was 11 where I was obsessed with anything S.E. Hinton wrote, and organized my My Littlest Pet Shop animals into rival gangs that would fight each other.

7. Harriet the Spy - Obviously great book. No comment.

8. All of Roald Dahl - I think Roald Dahl was the most respected children's author in my house. Him or Madeleine L'Engle. And when I say "respected" I mean "respected by my brothers," who were the ultimate authorities in this kind of thing. Obviously.

9. Chronicles of Narnia - Ok, I have to confess, the BBC movies made a far greater impression on my childhood than the books (some of which I've only read once, because come on, The Horse and His Boy?), but that's because they are AMAZING. Not that the books aren't. But for reals, if you see them for the first time when you're like five, they will stick WITH you. Favorite of the series...Magician's Nephew or Last Battle. Cannot decide. Leaning towards Magician's Nephew, but I use Last Battle in theological discussions.

10. Gone-Away Lake - Omg. This book. This was my favorite for a long time. It was written in the '50s AND has all these stories about the turn of the century/1890s, i.e. AWESOMETIMES. It's amazing. I'd read it right now if I had it with me.

(honorable-mention-slash-I-couldn't-fit-them-on-the-list goes to Wayside School, The Egypt Game, and MOST DEFINITELY The American Girl series. Felicity's where it's at, yo)


(I've amended this entry about a billion times, but ALSO THE BOXCAR CHILDREN AND BOBBSEY TWINS AND HOW DID I FORGET NANCY DREW)

LET THE 2012 CHALLENGES CONTINUE

I promise this is the last one I'm signing up for. And I'm kind of re-using some books from one of the other TBR challenges I'm doing, BUT this is the challenge that caused me to create my blog, so I have feelings of fondness towards it.

All right. The other ones I picked kind of at random, but these are books I LEGIT want to read and get off my shelf:

1. Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, Susanna Clarke - I mentioned before, I have two copies of this, and it's just...it's just GIANT and intimidating, but also has the best blurbs I've ever read on the back of a book. And the hardcover version takes up so very much space on my shelf.

2. The Looking Glass Wars, Frank Beddor - I tend to hate it when people get into series because they have the same name as the heroine, but...well...it's not my fault; my mom's collected Alice in Wonderland things since I was born. And this looks cool. So I bought it ages ago but never read it because I suck.

3. Henry VIII: The King and His Court, Alison Weir - I went through a period in my teens when I read everything by Alison Weir. She was popular. But then I bought this, which I've started maybe three times and never gotten far because omgggg so many descriptions of Councils and Chambers and I cannot be interested. But I shall read it and Learn Things.

4. Twilight Sleep, Edith Wharton - Aw man, Wharton writing about the '20s? Amazon calls it her "superb satirical novel of the Jazz Age." And you know she hated that time period, because even though she didn't like her OWN time that much, when you get to be in your 60s, you hate what the kids're into. I'm 26 and I hate what the kids are into NOW, so I can only imagine how much fun I'll be in 40 years. Anyway. Grouchy Edith Wharton, I am ready for you.

5. Gigi, Colette - I've owned this (en français, thank you very much) for like three years. Maybe longer. The musical version is delightful, and now I need to read the damn book. Plus, Colette! She's famous and stuff!

6. Guards! Guards!, Terry Pratchett - One of my many brothers (I have three) lent me this. We're both very much on the Pratchett side of the Pratchett/Gaiman divide, and yet I have not read anything of Pratchett's work besides his part of Good Omens (note: if you have not read that GET ON IT). I have been promised this one is Very Good Indeed.

7-12. This post is too long, so here's just a list with no explanation given. Mwahaha!

The Woman in White

Dear Fatty (Dawn French)

And Then There Were None (Christie)

Rats, Lice and History

Frankenstein

Comparative Literature

My alternates are Little Altars Everywhere and Cranford.

If I actually stick to this and the other TBR challenges, I should be getting basically nothing from the library next year. Yeah. We'll see how that pans out.

FINAL READATHONING POST

Yeah, it's 10:30. I was going to read about Minnesota, and then I said screw it and went to get on my computer.

So, I spent this week saying (to myself) I wasn't going to be reading Sophie's Choice for the readathon, annnnd that's pretty much most of what I did. But I now only have 142 pages left, which is SO exciting.

I'm discovering so many awesome authors through State by State. I never read essay collections, but since this was about Things That Make Us Different But Still Unified, I had to get it. Because I fall for that every time. Anyway, John Hodgman wrote about Massachusetts:

Emerson said there is a "wise silence" inside all of us, and in it, a kind of divinity—an intuitive personal spirituality, that when we are attuned to it, makes all of reality an echo of our soul. Or something. No one really knew what he was talking about.

In honor of Massachusetts, here're pictures from my pilgrimage there last year for my 25th birthday (I have plans to marry both John Adams and Nathaniel Hawthorne):

That bust of Hancock was huge. HUGE. And randomly placed.

I took this photo illegally in the John Quincy Adams library.

Abigail Adams sat on that sofa. That's all I'm sayin'. Also that I love John Hodgman.

Oh, and I hate William T. Vollman. But that's another story. And maybe he's a great guy, but I hate his writing a whole lot.

In other readingness, despite sneering at Game of Thrones, I did place a hold on a library Kindle copy ages ago, and it came in. I looked at the first chapter today. I mean, it's readable. And that's fine. But it's too...ok, it's too this: "It was a splendid weapon, castle-forged, and new-made from the look of it. Will doubted it had ever been swung in anger."

Just...ugh. Like...the guys who enjoy that are the guys who do Civil War reenactments. Frickin' "castle-forged." It just takes itself too seriously. But before you all jump me in a dark alley as I walk away from this post, lemme tell you that I had issues with the series before reading any of it. So I fully admit that I am a Prejudiced Reader Who Does Not Like George R.R. Martin.

HAPPY READATHON, YO.

Readathon, Post the Third, i.e. GIF Time

  

I don't know about you guys, but I am thoroughly enjoying this readathon. Amanda, this was an excellent idea. May all baked goods be given unto you.

I'm slowly wending my way through Sophie's Choice, but after all these weeks THE END, SHE IS IN SIGHT. I am so excited. But it's mixed emotions, because the writing is SO good, but it's also a billion pages with hugely long paragraphs and I'm like Styron, come ON, man, but he keeps doing it.

I've read about some more states in State by State. Today seems to just be Sadness in Books Day, because there's Sophie talking about being beaten by her high-on-cocaine boyfriend and then recounting her time in Auschwitz (...yeah, that's pretty much the whole book), and then the essay on Louisiana is all "LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT KATRINA" and I was like "Nooooooooooo!" but it did anyway.

By far, my favorite read today was Maine by Heidi Julavits. It has such wonderful sections as this:

"Because my Maine is the basis of the Maine cued in the minds of the non-Maine public when they hear the word 'Maine,' I'm inclined to issue a cultural correction, even a doomed one. I've spent a lifetime bristling at the Murder She Wrote doddery quaint clapboard nonsense that passes as Maine in the cultural vernacular. Maine, according to this vernacular, is a state filled with people possessed of great, garbled wisdom who eat lobster like it's bologna and die in ironic drowning accidents."

 I love her now.

My ensemble for the day, by the way, is a masterpiece of interstate cooperation. My book-not-movie Wizard of Oz t-shirt was ordered through a catalogue by my mother from...somewhere, my touristy hoodie with 'Boston' emblazoned across the front was purchased at a tiny mall store in Salem, Massachusetts when the town turned unseasonably cold around 5 pm, and my pink pajama pants covered in manatees were bought at the Mote Aquarium in Sarasota, Florida while visiting my best friend.

I know. I'm sometimes stunned by the foxiness of my own dress sense.

Unless I find a gif better than the one above, I'll probably only post once more tonight. READ ON, FELLOW READATHONERS.

Images of Class (Readathon Update Numero Dos)

Don't be overwhelmed or intimidated by my high class standards

Did I mention I don't drink a lot? And that sparkling grape juice is delicious? Although come to think of it, doing a drunk readathon would be kind of totally amazing.

So. I've read almost nothing. BUT I just got back from my voice lesson, which required me to take a half hour train ride each way, and then I had to go "LA LA LAAAA" like Babe the Pig. Only BETTER. Yeah, suck it, Babe, I own you.

I've read a tiny bit of Sophie's Choice, and State by State taught me that Kansas' state song is Home on the Range. Which was a surprisingly good Disney movie.

Excuse me, I have to go eat everything and read more about the Holocaust.

Readathon, Technically Hour Two But I Haven't Actually Started

I can't wake up on time for readathons. It's impossible. They always start at 7 or 8 a.m. and I always stay up too late refreshing tumblr over and over again, leaving me sleepy and irritated when my alarm goes off. "SCREW YOU, BOOKS!" I cry as I turn off said alarm and go back to sleep.

BUT! I am posting because our intrepid leader, Amanda at Dead White Guys has a birthday today, which I just learned, which is why this looks the way it does. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, WOMAN!

(it's in Russian too because Tolstoy's there)

I'm gonna go read Sophie's Choice and State by State: A Panoramic Portrait of America, both of which are excellent but which have significantly different vibes, since one is essays about states and one is..y'know, about the Holocaust. Then I have a voice lesson in the suburbs BUT THEN I SHALL BE BACK AND SHALL UPDATE ON BOOKS AND FOOD.

*flounces off*

Readalong Poll Results!

All right. It was seven to four, I'm sick of my banner being brown, so I'm deleting the post and calling it.

Yeah that's right WE'RE READIN' NORWEGIAN WOOD. This better not suck, people. I'm counting on your judgment here.

So rather than me stretching this out to a billion posts, let's have the sign-up post here. No, this isn't a hard and fast commitment (you know those people who can 'find' people over the internet?...I am not one), but YAYY LINKY. 

As always, ignore the leave a comment thing; Mr. Linky writes that and I cannot change it. Do what you want, because by God, you are a human being with a soul and free will! Make your commenting choices for yourself! Seize the day and so forth.