random posts of pretty: su blackwell's book-cut sculptures

Although the bibliophile in me loathes the idea of cutting up a book, Su Blackwell's fantastic book-cut sculptures are pretty enough to make me look the other way. Of course, the fact that there are several Alice in Wonderland pieces in her collection weighs heavily in her favor...

(Via Jezebel)

FAIL: the time traveler's wife movie trailer

No, Hollywood! This is ALL WRONG:



Romance isn't usually my genre, but I LOVED Audrey Niffenegger's The Time Traveler's Wife. It was maybe one of the most romantic things I have ever read while still being well-written, smart, original and complex. However, if this trailer accurately depicts the tone of the film adaptation, it looks like Robert Schwentke had turned something beautiful, strange and special into another run-of-the-mill, cheesy date flick. I hate the way that it's cut, I hate the stupid song that's playing, and I hate how completely ordinary it looks. Blerg.

random posts of pretty

These pictures come via Very Short List, and are full of pulp and awesome. Thomas Allen creates dioramas out of classic pieces of pulp fiction and then photographs them. The results are so campy and droll I can't even stand it. Love!

Tangle

Fury

Viewfinder

Venom

Gripping

Distraction

Stacked

random posts of pretty

A bunch of us English teachers were discussing the Kindle today at lunch (none of us in favor, which I'm sure comes as little surprise). As far as I can tell, it's a question of versatility versus quantity - I can either carry my entire library with me at all times, or I can have a wall of real, tangible books in my home to take with me to the bath or to bed or to loan out to friends. Personally, I'd rather have the latter.   

Of course, another reason to champion the tangible over the technological is aesthetics.  Case in point, White's Books' gorgeous, new editions of beloved classics, each hardcover designed by renowned artists.  They're so pretty that I almost want to take a second stab at reading Wuthering Heights!  

(Almost.)

(Via Apartment Therapy)

random posts of pretty

JD Salinger turned 90 today, and I'd like to celebrate by posting a short passage from Franny and Zooey, a book that is one of the most influential, beloved and calming forces in my life.  Happy New Year's, and I hope this finds you well:

"Somewhere along the line - in one damn incarnation or another, if you like - you not only had a hankering to be an actor or an actress but to be a good one. You're stuck with it now. You can't just walk out on the results of your own hankerings. Cause and effect, buddy, cause and effect. The only thing you can do now, the only religious thing you can do, is act. Act for God, if you want to - be God's actress, if you want to. What could be prettier? You can at least try to, if you want to - there's nothing wrong in trying."  There was a slight pause. "You'd better get busy, though, buddy. The goddam sands run out on you every time you turn around."

2008: a scattershot reflection

I'm been a bit manic with my posting this week, I know, but it turned out that I had more ideas for end-of-the-year posts than I had time to write them.  If you're even reading this - my fifteenth or something post in the last four days - then congrats.  You're a more patient person than I.  I promise to slow things down next week, but before putting 2008 in its grave I have a few more things to say.

My initial intent was to pen separate posts on my favorite moments, books, albums, movies, etc of the year, but after looking back on it, 2008 - although a great year for music - was a fairly average year for books and a downright underwhelming year for movies, so this is the sort of situation when a more scattershot approach will do. 

Musically speaking, my personal favorites would be a four-way tie between Basia Bulat's Oh, My Darling, Liam Finn's I'll Be Lightning, Bon Iver's For Emma, Forever Ago, and Dr. Dog's Fate. I've written about all of these before so I won't say anything else other than this list is based purely on personal preference and was compiled in the most haphazard of fashions, so if you ask me about it tomorrow I'd probably produce a totally different list.  

Discussing books is harder because I feel like there's so much that I haven't had a chance to read yet, however of what I HAVE read, I'd probably list Tom Rob Smith's Child 44 as my favorite "for pure entertainment" book, Jane Mayer's The Dark Side as my favorite "important stuff you should all read" book, Cory Doctorow's Little Brother as my favorite Young Adult book (my review's coming soon), Michael Chabon's The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay as my favorite "book that wasn't released this year but that I finally got around to reading already" and Samantha Hunt's The Invention of Everything Else as my overall favorite new release of the year.  

And as for movies...I got nothing.  Although, I did recently see The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and Slumdog Millionaire, and liked them both quite a bit.

Finally, on a personal level, 2008 was a pretty meh year for me.  Sure, there were plenty of good moments (the election being a particularly notable one), however looking back on it 2008 certainly had its fair share of moments that tested both my patience and generally sunny disposition.  I have not and will not get into any of that here, but trust that 2008 had some shitty bits for yours truly.   Some good bits to be sure, but some shitty bits too.

So, what does a girl do to fare better in 2009?  Well, Jessica from Jezebel recently referenced this excerpt from Anne Lamott's book, Hard Laughter, and I think it's a stellar idea:

I said that I thought the secret of life was obvious: be here now, love as if your whole life depended on it, find your life's work, and try to get hold of a giant panda. If you had a giant panda in your back yard, anything could go wrong — someone could die, or stop loving you, or you could get sick — and if you could look outside and see this adorable, ridiculous, boffo panda, you'd start to laugh; you'd be so filled with thankfulness and amusement that everything would be O.K. again.

So there you go.  My one and only resolution for the new year is to get me a giant panda.  And I shall keep it in my backyard, which is, thankfully, quite spacious.  Cheers!

in celebration of banned books

Being Wednesday, today brings us smack dab in the middle of banned books week, and though it's depressing to think that we're living in a time where such a recognition remains necessary, necessary it nonetheless remains. So let's recognize, yes?

Here is the ALA's list of the most frequently challenged books of 2007/2008, and though I haven't read them all, I have read most of them. In fact, three of the titles on the list happen to comprise my favorite three young adult works of all time: Robert Cormier's The Chocolate War, Philip Pullman's The Golden Compass, and Stephen Chbosky's The Perks of Being a Wallflower. Copies of all three books currently reside in my classroom library, and I frequently recommend and lend each title to my students. So, does that make me an irresponsible adult? Well, I guess it depends on who you're asking. But since there are those who would deem me irresponsible, I suppose I deserve the right to defend myself by defending the aforementioned titles.

And so defend I will. *Ahem*

The Chocolate War is #2 on the list, and is awarded that "distinction" for being sexually explicit, as well as containing offensive language and scenes of violence. And I will assure you that it does indeed contain all of those things. (Well, assuming you think a subtly written and very brief masturbation scene is reason enough to declare an entire book "sexually explicit." And maybe you do. Because you're a Puritan, perhaps.)

As far as young adult authors go, Cormier was one of the most intense. His books are dark, complex, and troublesome. They focus on subject matter such as the dangers of mob mentality (The Chocolate War), anger and revenge (Heroes) and insanity (I Am the Cheese). But underneath the violence lies an important message: Life is hard. Evil people exist. But, you do not need to become one of them! Be strong. Be brave. Be better. Who wouldn't want their child to hear such a message? Furthermore, how can this message be realistically delivered to a fourteen or fifteen-year-old kid in a story devoid of violence and offensive language? You can't have a resurrection without a crucifixion, folks. Cormier, particularly in The Chocolate War, speaks to the importance of personal responsibility and the dangers of mindless conformity. And really - this is something we should be protecting teens from?

The Perks of Being a Wallflower, 10th on the list, is charged with containing homosexual characters, being sexually explicit, containing offensive language, as well as being unsuited to its age group. With the exception of the latter, I again assure you that all accusations are true. But the language is more realistic than gratuitous, and the "sexual explicitness" is largely due to the fact that the protagonist eventually reveals himself to be a victim of molestation, an issue which is handled tactfully, honestly, and not particularly graphically. And unfortunately, 15 out of every 100 Americans is either a victim or a victimizer of child molestation, so failure to address this topic isn't doing any of us any favors.

And yep, there are homosexual characters in the book. Just like there are homosexual people in life! You know that idyllic small town you grew up in where everyone was "normal"? Well, hate to break it to you, but it didn't exist. There is no normal, diversity isn't scary, and the faster kids learn all that the better off we all are in the long run. Do you know what happens when homosexuality is connected with hatred and fear rather than understanding and empathy? Matthew Shephard happens. Think on it.

Finally, and perhaps most bizarrely, is The Golden Compass, reaching #4 on the list for its "religious viewpoint." Ahhh, where to begin... So author Philip Pullman is a self-proclaimed atheist. So freaking what? The book is a fantasy, and unlike other famous fantasy stories before it (*cough!* TheLionTheWitchandtheWardrobe *cough!*) it is not a particularly religious (or anti-religious) book. But so what if it was? If your faith is such that it can be shaken merely by reading a fantasy fiction book penned by an atheist, then I hate to break it to you - your faith was pretty damn weak to begin with.   

Nevermind that the dissenters aren't even pretending to separate the author's life from his work. We live in a scary time when an artist's religious affiliations (or lack thereof) are sufficient grounds for the censorship of his work. In the words of Pullman himself, banning a book on religious grounds is "the worst reason of the lot," and "destroying intellectual freedom is always evil." 

And what are the critics protecting our dear little children from by keeping them away from Pullman's trilogy? A epic adventure where the young female protagonist is depicted as being daring, tough, brave, intelligent and wholly capable. Nope. We wouldn't want our young girls (and boys, for that matter) reading that garbage...

To conclude, I would sincerely recommend any of the above titles to readers both young and old. Each is beautifully written, moving, and has brought something fresh, complex and incredibly valuable to the table.

And let's be honest - banned books are simply just more fun.

READ!

So get a load of this: 

 My department chair tells me that our principal has somehow dug up the cash to create READ posters featuring every member of our school's English department.  You know, like the celebrity READ posters,  but...not.  

From what I gather, we're supposed to come to work next Tuesday dressed to impress, so we can each be photographed by one of the (arguably) weirdest men on our staff as we clutch our favorite books and do our best to appear particularly literate. Those pictures will then be blown up, laminated, and displayed somewhere in our building.  

Our images looming.  In the halls.  Forever.

And quite frankly I can see why our principal thinks this a rather cute idea.  If I were him I would probably think so too, but the thing is I absolutely hate getting my picture taken. 

Hate. It.  

I hate it more than I hate Star Trek.  More than I hate Muzak.  Maybe even more than I hate cilantro.  It's really the #2 reason I could never be a model.  (#1, of course, being that I'd make all the other models simply dizzy with jealousy, sparking such massive walk-outs, tantrums and cat fights that the industry would be thrown into a irreversible tailspin. I simply can't have that on my conscience, folks.)

So since the prospect of having my life-size image displayed somewhere in my workplace gives my tummy the twitters, I've decided to instead focus on what book I might want to be clutching for all of eternity.  A quick scan of my bookshelf reminded me that my copy of Franny and Zooey is currently M.I.A., so it appears as if I'll have to come up with a plan B.  

Here's what's currently on the short list for plan B:

#1:

#2:

#3:

#4:

#5:

#6:

#7:
So, what do you think?  Which one should I clutch while I stare my forced grin into that camera?  Which one most screams Mrs. White?  Currently, #5 is leading by a slight margin, but there's still plenty of time to be swayed in other directions and this truly is important stuff.  

(I mean, you know - I wouldn't want to look foolish!)

random posts of pretty

From Infinite Jest, by David Foster Wallace:

Mario'd fallen in love with the first Madame Psychosis programs because he felt like he was listening to someone sad read out loud from yellow letters she'd taken out of a shoebox on a rainy P.M., stuff about heartbreak and people you loved dying and U.S. woe, stuff that was real. It is increasingly hard to find valid art that is about stuff that is real in this way. The older Mario gets, the more confused he gets about the fact that everyone at E.T.A. over the age of about Kent Blott finds stuff that's really real uncomfortable and they get embarassed. It’s like there’s some rule that real stuff can only get mentioned if everybody rolls their eyes or laughs in a way that isn’t happy. 

So sad. So true.

R.I.P, Wallace. You'll be missed.

random posts of pretty

From The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, by Michael Chabon:

The shaping of a golem...was a gesture of hope, offered against hope, in a time of desperation.  It was the expression of a yearning that a few magic words and an artful hand might produce something - one poor, dumb, powerful thing - exempt from the crushing strictures, from the ills, cruelties, and inevitable failures of the greater Creation.  It was the voicing of a vain wish, when you got down to it, to escape.  To slip, like the Escapist, free of the entangling chain of reality and the straitjacket of physical laws.  Harry Houdini had roamed the Palladiums and Hippodromes of the world encumbered by an entire cargo-hold of crates and boxes, stuffed with chains, iron hardware, brightly painted flats and hokum, animated all the while only by this same desire, never fulfilled: truly to escape, if only for one instant; to poke his head through the borders of this world, with its harsh physics, into the mysterious spirit world that lay beyond.  The newspaper articles that Joe had read about the upcoming Senate investigation into comic books always cited "escapism" among the litany of injurious consequences of their reading, and dwelled on the pernicious effect on young minds, of satisfying the desire to escape.  As if there could be any more noble or necessary service in life. 

random posts of pretty

From Ernest Hemingway's A Farewell to Arms:

If people bring so much courage to this world the world has to kill them to break them, so of course it kills them. The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.

random posts of pretty

From E.W. White's Charlotte's Web:

"Why did you do all this for me?" he asked. "I don't deserve it. I've never done anything for you."

"You have been my friend," replied Charlotte. "That in itself is a tremendous thing. I wove my webs for you because I liked you. After all, what's a life, anyway? We're born, we live a little while, we die... By helping you, perhaps I was trying to lift up my life a trifle. Heavens knows anyone's life can stand a little of that."

books: 2007

There are really only two areas of pop culture that I feel I can discuss with any amount of credibility (a statement which is still a bit of a stretch), and since I've already written ad nauseum about the music I liked in '07, I felt a little guilty not talking about the books I liked too, a guilt I'd like to resolve today. And although I guess talking '07 is sort of passe by now, I still want to.

So I will. Darn it.

And so here it is - my favorite literary moments of 2007. Should you be interested, I've linked to the more thorough reviews previously posted on each title (reviews that were written by me, so do be sure to temper those expectations).

Favorite Non-Fiction: The World Without Us, by Alan Weisman

Central question: What would happen to the world should humans suddenly disappear? The answer: boy, we sure have made a mess, but nature is nothing if not persistent.

Favorite Short Story Collection: No one belongs here more than you. Stories by Miranda July

With a voice that is uniquely her own, her stories are precious, awkward, silly, unsettling and strange. I pretty much loved each one, although "Shared Patio" and "Something That Needs Nothing" are my favorites.

Favorite Title that I Suppose is Technically Young-Adult Fiction, but When You Really Think About it So is The Catcher in the Rye, So Who Really Cares?: The Dead Fathers Club, by Matt Haig

For those of you paying attention I've already gushed on about this book to the point of absurdity, so it's probably best I not repeat what I've already said both here and here.

Favorite Title that Scared Me in Ways I'm Not Quite Used to Being Scared: A Good and Happy Child, by Justin Evans

Is the kid crazy? Is be possessed by a demon? Who knows, but the road I traveled while pondering the questions was smart, unsettling, and dark. These are all things that I find tremendously pleasing.

Favorite Title That Made Me Sad: The Beautiful Things that Heaven Bears, by Dinaw Mengestu

I never did get around to giving this beautiful little book a proper review and for that I am sorry because I truly loved it and should have pushed it on more people. The title comes from the last few lines of Dante's Inferno, and the story is melancholic, heart-rending and beautiful in the way that a tale about standing in hell and somehow finding the hope to look towards the heavens should be.

Favorite Title for Making Me Laugh: I Love You, Beth Cooper, by Larry Doyle

Denis Coverman - a true nerd's nerd - takes his first real risk when he throws it all on the line to professes his love for the most popular girl in school during his graduating valedictorian speech, and the aftermath is a hilarious train wreck that you never really want to look away from. I laughed from start to finish, although through gritted teeth.

Favorite Title Overall: The Brief, Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, by Junot Diaz

There's a reason this book is on almost every "best of 2007" list I've stumbled across. It's fantastic, and you should read it.

Other Scattershot Book-Related Thoughts on '07:

The One Title I Wish I Would Have Read Before Compiling This List: Out Stealing Horses, by Per Petterson

It made the top ten list for Entertainment Weekly, The New York Times, Time Magazine and more, so even if it doesn't sound much like my thing I expect I'll be getting around to it sometime this month.

The Book Whose Glowing Praise I Didn't Quite Agree With: Then We Came to the End, by Joshua Ferris

I appreciate the sort of Catch-22 meets The Office tale Ferris was trying to spin, but try as I might I couldn't get past the first person collective point of view. Lots of other people seemed to like it, though, so perhaps you shouldn't take my word for it.

The Book I Probably Should Have Tried Harder On, But Just Couldn't Find the Will to Do So: Tree of Smoke, by Denis Johnson

Perhaps it's every bit as brilliant as everyone said, but I couldn't get past page 70 so I wouldn't know. Not my thing.

Best Book Event of the Year Decade: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, by JK Rowling

As if this is a point that bears repeating...

Best Film Adaptation of a Novel: No Country for Old Men

I'd be terribly shocked if this doesn't get a best picture nomination. It's a jagged little pill to swallow, but a damn fine movie based on a damn fine book.

The Book Whose Film Buzz I'm the Most Curious About: The Raw Shark Texts, by Steven Hall

Last I heard it's going to happen, but I can't for the life of me imagine how. Some stories are better left to the imagination, and I fear this might be one of them.

Saddest Literary Event: Kurt Vonnegut's passing.

Book-Related Thing that I Found Most Irksome: JK Rowling's announcement that Dumbledore is gay.

So's Walt Whitman, Ursula Le Guin, Achilles, Bert 'n' Ernie and my cousin Scott. So what?

books: the brief wondrous life of oscar wao

To piggyback on yesterday's (sort of) post, a book that is certain to make the list of my favorite literary releases of 2007 is Junot Díaz’s debut novel The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. Narrated by an old college roommate named Junior, "Oscar Wao" is, among other things, the story of Oscar LaInca - an overweight, sci-fi reading, Dungeons and Dragons playing, "ghetto nerd," whose nickname is Spanglish for Oscar Wilde (meant as an insult, alluding to both Wilde's girth and sexuality). Although Dominican, Oscar completely defies the machismo stereotype, and given that he lives in the more-than-a-little-rough Paterson, NJ, Oscar spends most of his time in his bedroom where he can safely escape behind his Akira posters, Tolkien and role-playing games when he isn't in the midst of an obsessive and wholly one-sided love affair with some disinterested female.

As can be easily inferred from the title, Oscar's life is brief; yet, Junior must span two countries and three generations in order to tell the story of it. He begins by explaining that the LaInca family is said to have suffered from a powerful fuku (curse) earned when Oscar's grandfather angered Trujillo. Anticipating that most readers may have "missed your mandatory two seconds of Dominican history," Junior explains:

Trujillo, one of the twentieth century's most infamous dictators, ruled the Dominican Republic between 1930 and 1961 with an implacable ruthless brutality. A portly, sadistic, pig-eyed mulato who bleached his skin, wore platform shoes, and had a fondness for Napoleon-ear haberdashery, Trujillo (known as El Jefe, the Failed Cattle Thief, and Fuckface) came to control nearly every aspect of the DR's political, cultural, social, and economic life through a potent (and familiar) mixture of violence, intimidation, massacre, rape, co-optation, and terror...He was our Sauron, our Arawn, our Darkseid, our One and Future Dictator, a personaje so outlandish, so perverse, so dreadful that not even a sci-fi writer could have made his ass up.

The story of the Trujillo-era Dominican Republic becomes the backdrop for Díaz’s tale, which is equal parts coming-of-age novel, historical fiction, and epic family saga that seamlessly weaves hip-hop, feminism, mythology, science fiction and magical realism throughout.

And if I haven't made it clear enough by my rambling and overly long overview, I loved it. Admittedly, it took a little while for me to fully get into it, but was hooked come fifty pages in. I felt two sorts of sadness at the novel's conclusion: one for the sweet, brave, pathetic Oscar, and the other because I simply didn't want it to be over.

books: the world without us

Alan Weisman's The World Without Us was born from a deceptively simple question: what would become of the world if all of humanity were to disappear? From that single premise comes what is arguably the finest work of nonfiction released in 2oo7, comprised of a series of surprisingly engrossing scientific articles. He starts with examining the fate of something so commonplace as our home without us (see these pictures of New Orleans' 9th Ward for an idea). Weisman then moves to the metropolis of New York City (after two days it immediately floods and fails), and then on to the farm, to our nuclear legacy, to the sea, our art and beyond.

His findings are sobering. In the chapter on nuclear energy, Weisman looks to the self-healing happening in post-nuclear Chernobyl when he writes that "typical human activity is more devastating to biodiversity and abundance of local flora and fauna than the worst nuclear power plant disaster," and after considering that since the human migration out of Africa and into the Americas and Australia we have left a trail of massive extinctions in our wake, it's easy to deduce that we've been a blight on the planet since our earliest hunter/gather days. But, of course, in many ways modern man is much worse.

I was absolutely terrified to read his chapter on plastics, which for me was the most startling part of the entire book. I knew that plastics don't break down, but I never really gave much thought to what happened to them beyond landfills. His description of the Great Pacific Garbage Patch - a garbage dump floating in the middle of the Pacific THE SIZE OF AFRICA - was thoroughly alarming. Comprised of 3 million tons of plastic, 80% of which "had originally been discarded on land...blown off garbage trucks or out of landfills, spilled from railroad shipping containers and washed down storm drains, sailed down rivers of wafted on the wind, and found its way to this widening gyre," this blight floats in the center of the ocean where it waits for evolution to create a bacteria capable of breaking it down.


(A dead albatross found full of plastic)
Needless to say, after reading up a bit more on polymers and nurdles I'm swearing off of plastic water bottles and buying my own canvas grocery bags.

I could go on (the fate of songbirds at the hands of powerlines, deforestation, feral cats and plate glass windows was also particularly disturbing to me), but I'm sure I've already depressed you enough. The funny thing is The World Without Us - although certainly grim - was also surprisingly hopeful. After all, history shows that despite our human arrogance we will eventually disappear, but our planet will adapt and move on, that "life will go on. And that it will interesting."

In sum, I recommend this book to everyone. In fact, (and at the risk of sounding preachy) it's an essential read.

Up Next: The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, by Junot Diaz

books: in the woods

I am right pissed off.

In the Woods is Tana French's debut novel. Lots and lots of people like it. It's 400+ pages long and has two parallel story lines - one that's interesting and one that's not. Unfortunately, 75% of the novel was dedicated to the latter.

Mind you, I wouldn't have stuck with a 400+ page novel if I truly hated it. The prologue was excellent, the cover quite pretty, most of the time I appreciated French's writing style, and as far as crime dramas go I suppose this one had a bit more eloquence, substance and style than most.

However, I didn't really care who murdered the young ballerina because I figured it out about 100 pages in. With three quarters of the novel left to go, I stuck things out for that second story line. The one that wasn't paid nearly enough attention. The one that was never resolved.

So yes, if you like reading long-ish books that end in messy disappointments then I've got one to lend. But I actually quite like you, so maybe let's not.

Oh, bother.

Up Next: The World Without Us, by Alan Weisman

indifference and perspective

Things have been busy, consequently time to read has been drastically and depressingly reduced. However, this week - somehow and somewhere between all the et cetera whatever - I was able to take in Dinaw Mengestu's well-crafted, beautiful, melancholic little novel titled The Beautiful Things that Heaven Bears, a piece which I'm almost certain will end up somewhere on my year-end "Top Five Favorite New Releases of 2007" list.

The book deserves a much better review than I have time/energy for at the current moment, so that is not my intention with this post. Hopefully, that beast can be tackled when my mental faculties are a bit sharper and more up to the task. But for tonight, there's this one particular passage that, after underlining it and rewriting it (as I tend to do with sentences and passages that move me), is still gnawing like a raspberry seed lodged between my back teeth. It's a conversation between two African immigrants who both escaped violent coups in their separate homelands in the perhaps naive hopes of finding security, safety and opportunity in America. And it reads like this:

Everything is beautiful to you.

Not everything.

But damn close.

You just have to have the right perspective.

Which is what?

Indifference. You have to know that none of this is going to last. And then you have to not care.

And then the world becomes beautiful?

No. It becomes ridiculous. Which is close enough for me.

I'm not sure why this passage is sticking with me three days after I read it. Maybe it's the notion that what we so often laud as "beautiful" is really just the ascetically-pleasing oddity. Maybe it's the idea that we need to resign ourselves to indifference before we can look past all the beastly to truly see the beauty. Maybe I'm just an overworked, underpaid civil servant with a penchant for navel-gazing.

Probably all of the above.

But, what I am certain of is that there's a cohesive post lurking somewhere in this mess. Just maybe not this particular one.

leci n'est pas une nerd

One week down; 40 something more to go.

Not that it's been a bad week, mind you. A bit tiring perhaps, but my kids seem to be a significant improvement over last year's bunch. (Or, at least I'm not saving up for a bullet proof vest and contemplating the necessity of regular tetanus shots. Yet.) But who can really tell this early in the game, you know? And when it comes down to it, we're still trying to figure each other out. Realizing this, I've been intentionally fluctuating between humorless, abrasive, motherly, and *ahem* comical, because this early in the game I find it important (and not to mention fun) to keep them guessing.

What I'm pretty sure they've figured out by now, however, is that although I might be other things too, one thing that I most definitely am is a great big nerd. Case in point, over the course of the past four days I've referenced The Transformers, organic chemistry, Stephen Hawking's theory of time travel via wormholes, Severus Snape (multiple times, that one) and actually told a 'joke' ending with "and that's why a solid grasp of correct semicolon usage will help improve your love life." So see, it's hopeless. I'm a nerd.

And in keeping with that theme, here's some other nerdy things I've been enjoying these past few days:

Nerdy Books: I Love You, Beth Cooper (by Larry Doyle of The Simpson's fame) is one of the funniest books I've read in some time. The protagonist, Denis Cooverman, is a newly graduated high school valedictorian whose obsessively pathetic admiration of the beautiful head cheerleader leads to all sorts of humiliations, shenanigans and a myriad of both physical and emotional injuries. It's sweet, goofy, often sarcastic, awesomely references numerous nerds to have graced the silver screen, made me chuckle several times, laugh out loud at least three, and can easily be managed in a few hours. Consider it, yes?

Nerdy Fashion: Threadless had a sale last weekend so I stocked up, and one of my purchases has easily become the nerdiest thing I own, fashionistically speaking. See:


(And if you get the joke without having to consult either the Internet or your closest expert on Belgian surrealism, then guess what...you're a nerd too! But a cool nerd. One who I'd expedite to a space in my MyFace top eight, even.)

History-Rich Websites about the connections between religion and war and leadership and war (I expected Republicans to be the war mongers. Turns out, not so much. Huh.)

and Documentary Film: God Grew Tired of Us shows the stories of four of Sudan's "lost boys" - refugees from the 1992 genocide who all fled their homeland on foot as small children, raised themselves and one another in squalor, and were then brought to America as young adults. Their stories are terribly sad yet triumphant, and watching them try to maneuver modern conveniences like toilets, pre-packaged butter, grocery stores and shaving cream is both funny, sweet and humbling.

And to bring this all full-circle, the genocide in Sudan reminds me of last year's 9th graders (and not in the hyperbolic sense you may think). One kid, after studying the genocide, actually raised her hand during a class discussion and said, "People think Detroit is a bad place to be. However, when you really think about it, Sudan is much, much worse than Detroit." (I can remember this four months later because it so struck me that I jotted it down on a post-it note, which I discovered in my desk yesterday.) Yes, so have I mentioned recently that I'm glad last year is over? Because I am.

And with that, let's toast. To nerds!

books: a good and happy child

A Good and Happy Child (Justin Evans' debut) begins with George Davis, a first time father, who finds himself incapable of holding his newborn son. This inexplicable repulsion for his own child and the considerable strain it puts on his marriage sends him to a psychologist, who encourages him to journal in the hopes of understanding his unusual hangup. Through the journals, which consume the majority of the novel's plot line, Davis begins to recall a strange moment in his childhood shortly after his own father's mysterious death while chasing demons in Honduras. The journals recount strange visions Davis had as a child, "accidents" that frequently occurred around Davis and that threatened to get him committed, and the help he sought from his father's mystic friends who convinced him that his visions were demonic.

Truly intelligent horror is such a rarity, and although my biggest criticism of Evans' debut is that it's more unnerving than it is scary, there were certainly quite a few scenes that got under my skin. I mistakenly assumed that this would simply be a story about demonic possession, but it turned out to be something much more interesting - a freaky, tight little tale that explores both demons vs psychology, rationality vs spirituality, and perception vs reality. I've read several reviews by people who found the ending to be a bit frustrating, and would agree that it was anything but neat while the book had a tendency to ask more questions than it answered; however, for me, anyway, those are all good things.

Bottom line, I thought this was a very smart, spooky and enjoyable read. If you like The Exorcist you'd probably like it too. Holler if you want to borrow.

Up Next (assuming B&N has it in stock): I Love You, Beth Cooper, by Larry Doyle

books: then we came to the end

How you feel about short and sweet today? You know, 'cause I'm so short and so sweet?

Alright? Alright...

Lightening Quick Synopsis:
Told in the first person omniscient, Then We Came to the End (Joshua Ferris) is the collective story of the employees at a failing Chicago ad agency where increasing layoffs breed increasing paranoia, rumors, drama and obsessions over who has the better chair. Think Office Space meets Catch 22 meets The Virgin Suicides.

This book has been getting a fair amount of hype - positive reviews from the New York Times, a strong endorsement from Stephen King, and glowing praise from a plethora of other reviewers - but frankly, I just didn't see what the big deal was. Was it funny? Sure. Was it clever? Enough. Was it an engaging story? At times. But the best part came when the point-of-view shifted from the satirical collective to the singular voice of the boss - a lonely, work-obsessed, consummate professional who falls into a tailspin when facing a diagnosis of breast cancer. That section was honest, gripping, and generally unputdownable. However, as a whole, the use of the first person omniscient - although achieving the desired anonymously detached voice - tended to annoy me a bit, the characters were largely stereotypes, and despite the aforementioned exception of the boss' character I just couldn't bring myself to care about any of them.

So overall, it wasn't bad. It just wasn't great.

Up Next: What is the What, by Dave Eggers