Pretty darned random

Does anyone else have the mid-winter blahs? I seem to just be doing the bare minimum that I must, then wasting a lot of time doing goodness-knows-what. I may be PMSing, too, so throw that into the mix. All in all -- blah.

It's not that I've been entirely unproductive, it's just that there's not a lot to show for it right now. Here's a short run-down of what I've been...

... Making:
I finally finished Gator's secret anniversary present and mailed it off yesterday. I can't show it to you until after he's received it. It took a lot longer to complete than I had anticipated but I lurve the results. Is it bad to be really jealous of your own husband for receiving a gift that you made for him?? That seems so wrong, somehow. And yet.

I have not worked any more on the Baby Christmas Stocking, but that should change this week. I've been puttering on another block for the experimental Ballband Afghan and I just ordered the yarn to make a baby afghan for my pregnant labmate. So things are a'brewin'.

... Listening To:
I'm seriously loving Ippy, my fabulous birthday / Christmas gift iPod. I've loaded all my music onto her and I happily listen all the time. I've been listening to some pretty random stuff, especially music from my collection that I haven't listened to in ages. The Church, Bela Fleck, Enya. It's a rockin' good time.

Also, I've just gotten turned on to the audiobooks available at Project Gutenberg. I knew they had a vast selection of E-books, but the audio versions are a godsend for long days in the lab when I have much to do, but none of it requires my entire brain. I've just downloaded all forty million chapters of Jane Eyre -- which I've never read! -- and I'm itching to get started today. Yay!

... Reading:
I just read one of the worst books I've ever had the displeasure to read. I'm a huge fan of Gone With the Wind and I really enjoyed the latter-day sequel Scarlett (NOT the horrible mini-series they made that bears little to NO resemblance to the book), so I was looking forward to reading the next authorized book based on GWTW, Rhett Butler's People.

It is supposed to tell the story of Rhett's upbringing -- how he became the man that appears in GWTW -- as well as what might have happened after Mitchell's novel. A version of the happy ending most of us yearn for. Even though both Scarlett and Rhett Butler's People are authorized companion novels to GWTW, they do not jibe with each other. They are two separate visions of "what happens next". While this apparently really messes with some peoples' heads, I don't really have a problem with it. But that's not to say I don't have plenty of problems other than that.

The author has previously written civil-war era fiction and has been highly praised for it. It apparently took him twelve years to finish Rhett Butler's People. He admits to only reading GWTW once and not liking it. He says he worked off his wife's notes on the novel. He admits he took the job for the money. It SO shows. Worse yet, I don't think anyone at the Mitchell estate or St. Martin's Press did any editing whatsoever. It's horrible. It is quite possibly the most unprofessional job I've ever seen, period.

There are many typos, to be sure. Ridiculous things that the lowliest of editors should have spotted. But worse than that are other errors. A one-legged man, who limps when he walks on his peg-leg, suddenly puts his cold feet into his shoes, "quickly" backs down a ladder, jogs in his stocking feet, and generally does things that a perfectly able-bodied man would have trouble with. Then there are the inconsistencies with the original Gone With the Wind. The timeline is disturbed (he states that Scarlett sold the lumber mills to Ashley before his birthday -- in opposition to the events of GWTW -- but then what excuse would Scarlett have had to go see him that fateful day and cause such scandal? The author offers no reason.), characters are decimated, and important events are left out completely. Then there's this novel's own storyline. It's all too pat and incestuous -- a small group of people seem to be the only people in the world; all their actions come around at the end to tie everything in a neat little horrible bow and nothing else influences anything. By the time I got to the last few chapters, I just wanted to get it over with so I could take the book back to the library. Thank God I got it from the library and didn't buy the ridiculous thing.

So now I'm going to re-read GWTW, just to cleanse my palate, so to speak.

Is it naptime yet? I just feel so... blah.

_____

Literary frustration and stupid groundhogs

I've read two books in the last week. Pleasure reading, even. Granted, they were quite short, but they were books, and I read two of them.

I bought both of them years ago at a local bookstore in my hometown called the BookStop which was run by mothers of girls I went to school with. It was charming and friendly and sometimes Gator and I would just go in and read the backs of books we wouldn't ordinarily read then buy a bunch of them. Many I've not yet read. But I brought a few up here with me and I finally pulled a couple off the shelf. Both enthralled me but both, ultimately, left me completely unsatisfied. I suspect "literary types" would say that this is because I'm unsophisticated and want everything laid out for me. Well, not exactly, thankyouverymuch, but it's true that I don't read Finnegan's Wake for a reason. I want to read a story. Stories, according to Mrs. Espey, require a beginning, a middle, and an end (climax, deneoument, etc. etc. yes, I know, it's still a beginning, a middle, and and end). If you refuse to end your story, don't get pissed at me because I find this annoying. You're not cool and edgy, you're falling asleep on the job.

The first book I read this week was Who Will Run The Frog Hospital? by Lorrie Moore. Funny, in just looking up the Amazon entry to make that link, I noticed that the reviews were either five or one stars. Strong feelings. I agree. It is both good and awful. A book that I refer to as "all middle". The beginning is awkward, as if you're already supposed to know something you don't. The main story is a flashback. The middle (of the "middle") eventually draws you in and you start to really care what's happening to these girls, teenagers in a small town with lives that are unappealing and so they try to create something more fun, something finer, that they share only with each other. This part was well written and enthralling. But reality eventually intervenes and life marches on leaving their constructed "lives" behind. The present is briefly described and a future hinted at. And then it ends. Infuriatingly.

The thing that is most troubling is that this is the story of a woman, unsatisfied with her life, who reminisces about her teenage life with her best friend and laments the loss of the girl she was then. Or, more precisely, the loss of the girl she wasn't then, as she mostly wanted to be her best friend back then. She finds that she's become jaded, cynical, not-so-nice. But I don't know why. Am I supposed to say, "Oh, well, yeah. We all get jaded and cynical. That's just life and growing up"? Well, it's not. I'm unsatisfied. Harumph.

The second book I read in one evening. It was Zombie by Joyce Carol Oates. I'd never read any of her stuff before, but I knew she was a pretty popular author and fairly well received critically. It seemed interesting when I bought it, so I went ahead and jumped in. AND WAS IMMEDIATELY, IRREVERSIBLY SUCKED IN. Wow. Cool book. Slice of life of a sexual psychopath told from his effed-up point of view. But. So "slice of life" that again with the no ending. Man. I understand what she was trying to do, what she was going for (more so than Ms. Moore, anyway), but I read the last page and actually threw the book across the room. Sucker-punched. Killer.

I know there are different kinds of reading. What I want right now is pure escapist reading -- the pure bliss of reading something that WILL NOT have the words immunofluorescence or mitochondria in it ANYWHERE. But I can't stand formulaic stories or your typical romance novel or fantasy one-off. So I look for something quirky because, let's face it, I'm quirky. But quirkiness often comes with the "meaningful stylistic contructions" that just piss me off. So, once again, I may be too weird for the world. I'm pretty used to it, really I am.

But thanks for letting me vent about it, anyway. :)

Now, in hot "Hows about some nice groundhog stew?" news: It's April 11, and we're going to get six inches of snow today, with three more likely tonight. Oh, and 40 mph winds. This is why we need so much beer up in here. Seriously.

Maybe all this is just how I make the lab look like a pretty warm, fuzzy place.

_____

A game-y, clash-y, storm-y feast

I'm re-reading my favorite books on the planet. They are the kind of books you just want to crawl right inside of, the kind that, once you start reading them, you don't ever, ever want it to end. The kind that have already been made into the best movies in the history of the world -- in your mind.

For me, these books are the A Song of Ice and Fire series by George R.R. Martin. So far there are four books in the series and it's unclear how many there will ultimately be. I just finished reading the first book, A Game of Thrones, and have begun the second, A Clash of Kings. Then I'll get to move on to the best one so far, A Storm of Swords, and wrap it up with A Feast for Crows. Then probably repeat until the next one, A Dance with Dragons, comes out, whenever that will be.



Here's the thing -- I hate fantasy novels. Actually, I just hate fantasy. Which is a complete riot when you consider what a Star Wars dork I am (and there's really no way you can truly understand what a Star Wars dork I am) which is totally fantasy. People classify it as science fiction because there are spaceships, but it's fantasy. Space fantasy, yes, but trust me, there's no science. Pure fantasy.

And I love Arthurian legend. Well, I used to love Arthurian legend, and I guess I still do in principle, it's just the reality has gotten old. Once you know the basic stories, every retelling is the same except they've tweaked this here or that there. It's a lot like reggae. I swear all reggae songs are the same song but with "Mon!" shouted here instead of there. I like it in principle and I'm very happy it exists, but I don't want to actually listen to it.

Oh look! I've digressed! So, yes, fantasy. It often involves elves and trolls and ::shudder:: talking animals*. I could never stomach Narnia, I don't care a fig for Lord of the Rings. I was once offered cash money to read The Silmarillion. I refused. My sister loves the Shannara series. I'd rather read Danielle Steel (and I don't want to read Danielle Steel, I assure you).

So, yes, the point of all this! A Song of Ice and Fire is almost-not-really-totally-yet-completely fantasy. But it's so darned good. The story isn't white and bright and pretty and spun glass and fairy wings. There are no unicorns. There's a lot of mud, a lot of blood, quite a good amount of sex, an array of human depravity, a great big huge ol' batch of politics and intrigue, and a bit of magic. All the characters have good points and bad. The chapters are told from different characters' points of view so you get inside lots of people's heads. And this may be the best part -- you really never know what's going to happen next because Martin isn't in love with his characters. Anyone could die at any time. Dont' you get sick of, "Well, this person is clearly the protagonist and will have a happy ending, we're just reading to see how s/he gets to the happy ending." I get really sick of that.

I can't review a book to save my life. Read this instead. I certainly can't recommend these books strongly enough. Try 'em.

So classes for the spring semester don't start until Jan. 16. Until then I work in the lab for several hours a day and the rest of my time is my own. So I'm reading and reading and reading. And knitting and crocheting. And reading. I'm so happy. Wouldn't you like to read with me?


*that said, I completely approve of talking animals in the context of stories such as Animal Farm and Watership Down. It's just not the same at all.