Once again, I get overly worked up about books

I am having a dilemma. Even a personal crisis, if you'll allow me to have my dramarama. Here it is. Are you ready for it?

I like Pride and Prejudice.

Oh, no! Not the novel. I still think the way Jane Austen writes sucks rocks, and there is so much banality in her novels that I cannot stand to read them (and yet I've read 3--only one was of my own volition. But honestly, how could I love Clueless so hard without reading the book upon which it was based? That would be a violation of everything I stand for). However. I love the story; I love the characters--mostly, I love the way it was all brought to life in the most recent film adaptation. (Do not accuse me of liking it because there are several pretty girls in it. It is true that there were, but you insult me by thinking that was the only attraction.)

Here's the thing. Jane Austen, in the midst of all that boring writing, knew how to create a compelling story. And I certainly would have fallen in love with Elizabeth Bennet if I'd met her. (And not just because she looks like Keira Knightley now in my head. Stop insulting me!) But the film version made it all playful and touching and charming, while I just found the novel largely stultifying. Clueless did the same thing to Emma. The plot of Emma is brilliant. The plot of Pride and Prejudice is indeed quite entertaining if you don't have to read it.

I hate to say it, but seriously. In this case, reading was a chore. A CHORE! How dare you make reading a chore, Ms. Austen, when you have such a fun story about interesting characters to tell? I will never forgive you for that.

The other important part of Pride and Prejudice, the part about women's rights that was the only thing about the novel I liked, is more or less lost in the film. Of course there's the mention of how Mr. Collins will inherit the Bennet estate, because the women can't under English law, but that's about it, really.

Anyway, I was having this crisis, because I was wondering if the fact that I liked the movie so much meant I should re-read the novel. A terrifying thought to be sure. Because the thing that bugged me the most about the novel was all the evidence that these people don't do anything. They talk about boring things and play cards and walk around and moon over men, and they don't do anything worthwhile. And I know that's what it was like for people of their class in England at the turn of the 19th century. I know that. You think I don't know that? I was an English major. I know that better than you do. (Unless you were an English major, too. In which case, we probably know it the same amount.) That doesn't mean I want to read 400 pages of it. It's the same thing that killed Emma. In the movies, you get no sense of this, because movies aren't supposed to have time to get boring. Clueless is certainly never boring. And neither is this Pride & Prejudice--and I'm sorry, all you diehard Colin Firth freaks, but you'll have to tie me to a chair and prop my eyelids open with toothpicks to get me to sit through 6 hours of Pride and Prejudice. I have a feeling that version does not quite lose all the boring, do-nothing-ness of the book.

So, crisis averted, I think. I have effectively talked myself out of reading Pride and Prejudice again.

Update! Crisis totally not averted. I kind of need to read this novel again, so I can add some specific examples to this rant, because the pesky little English major in me kind of can't stand all the vaguery up there. Oh dear.

"I think the sun is a flower/that blooms for just two hours"

Okay, so I think everyone in the English-speaking countries of North America (or the U.S. and Canada, if you will) had to read the Ray Bradbury story "All Summer in a Day." Everyone I've ever brought it up to knows exactly what I'm talking about. If the title does nothing for you, here's a plot synopsis. The story takes place on Venus, which in Ray Bradbury land, has been colonized and is a planet of perpetual rain--except for one glorious day every seven years when it gets some sun action for two hours. The story takes place in a school, where a class of children is waiting for the rain to stop. One child in particular, a little girl, I believe, is waiting most anxiously, because, unlike the other children, she was born on Earth, so she can remember the sun--and these fools, who were only two the last time Venus got a rain-break, cannot. And she is a sad, melancholy child and an outsider, so of course the kids lock her in the supply closet, and she misses the sun, and IT. IS. HORRIBLE.

Anyway, I always feel like I am the only Ray Bradbury freak around, but everyone knows that story, and it always surprises me. A lot of people have to read Fahrenheit 451 for school, too, so that doesn't surprise me. It's the short stories that are never required reading. Except that one. I can never remember the title of it, either, and I think I've only even read it once, because I can never remember which of my Ray Bradbury collections it's in. So I must have read it twice, once in seventh grade, and once when I bought whatever short story collection it's in. Excuse me, I'm going to find that information out right now.

Shitbananas! I don't have it! How did this happen? I can only find this story in the collection A Medicine for Melancholy, which I most certainly do not own. And now I must. Because it is the truth now that I have only read this story once, in seventh grade honors lit with Mrs. Kecy. Crap.

Sharing

Here's a slightly embarrassing factlet. (I need a word for a small fact, since I recently discovered that's not what factoid means. Suggestions?) The most played song on my iTunes is "Belle," the opening song from Disney's Beauty and the Beast. It used to be "Never Again" by Kelly Clarkson, but I deleted that when I bought the album yesterday. Now "Never Again" only has 13 spins to its name, and it can't compete with the Disney songs. Those are the songs that have the highest playcount. The first non-Disney song on the top is "Candyman." So I was obsessed with it for a while. Whatever. Next is Joni Mitchell's "A Case of You," so that's at least not embarrassing.

Speaking of Beauty and the Beast, I just finished Robin McKinley's retelling of that tale, Beauty. It was magnificent. You know, I've never read any of the sources for all the Disney movies I love, just various retellings of them. That kind of makes me ashamed. Like, I haven't even read The Little Mermaid, and I know dissecting the differences between Hans's and Walt's (or Roy's, I guess) versions will be a geek orgasm. Why haven't I read this crap yet? I have no idea.

Anyway! That paragraph was supposed to be about Robin McKinley, who is brilliant, and whom I only just discovered two years ago, during my "read all the Newbery Award-winning books" summer. Her Newbery Award winner is The Hero and the Crown, which was exactly the kind of book I love: science-fiction/fantasy-ish with an unlikely female hero. Robin McKinley has a lot of female heroes. (I guess that should be heroines, but I really, really hate distinguishing between the sexes in nouns that can easily apply to both. So, whatevs.) Even in her retelling of the Robin Hood tales, she makes Marian an outlaw with Robin's legendary archery talent, instead of just some pretty lady who sympathizes with the Saxons. And then The Hero and the Crown had a prequel, which actually follows it in chronology, but McKinley wrote it first. I don't know. Whatever. I read The Hero and the Crown first, since that was the Newbery winner, but I wonder if The Blue Sword was supposed to be read first. Or if it matters since the stories take place hundreds of years apart. Whatever! They're both awesome, and I am sad that I did not read them when I was younger.

December in June!

Now if only the weather would cooperate a little...

Here’s the thing. I know it’s no secret that I love Kelly Clarkson, but seriously. I love her. I’ve spent all daaaay listening to her new album, and I love it. I love Kelly Clarkson because her voice is amazing (and she’s beautiful, but that is neither here nor there for the purposes of this story), and when she’s not singing catchy pop, it makes me so happy. Not that I don’t love the catchy pop. I mean, bitch please, we have “Since U Been Gone” on one of the BBW CDs, and I will sing along with it, full voice, in front of customers. Okay? Love it. But this album is more Girly Sounds than radiopop, and I LOVE it. I’ve wanted an album like this from Kelly since she sang “Stuff Like That There” on American Idol. Especially non-pop are the bonus tracks from iTunes, “Dirty Little Secret” and “Not Today.” They’re awesome. The whole thing’s awesome. I can’t even handle how awesome it is. I actually want to cry, because she’s not touring with this awesome record. Fucking record industry. Fucking Boston Garden! Why couldn’t she just play the Verizon Center again? She sold that bitch out.

Some assmunch said a good title for this record would be Jagged Little Idol. Poor Alanis. She is never, never going to live down “You Oughta Know,” is she? It is true that when I first heard “Never Again,” I instantly thought of Alanis’s kiss-off to Joey Gladstone, but seriously, people. Girls get mad at guys all the time—just because they write an angry song about it doesn’t make them all Alanises. Although, I suppose Kelly’s record is introspective and occasionally angry, much like Jagged Little Pill. Still. The Alanis reference is just tired. It’s a cliché these days, twelve years after Jagged Little Pill came out.

Queer Apple

Well, here's another thing that's turning me slowly to the Dark Side. Apple loves the gays. iTunes has a playlist for Gay Pride Month, and it's officially iTunes--it's one of their iTunes Essentials things. For the gays. Come on now. Apple loves the environment and the gays, and this Mac Pro is so way better than my stupid Dell. And I hate Windows. And I've never loved an inanimate object more than I love my iPod. So that's it! I'm buying an iMac as soon as I can afford it.

Over-rated

Right now, I feel compelled to write about Gone with the Wind. Here's the thing: it's a somewhat interesting story, but it's entirely a romance novel and not so much a great American classic. It's pure Danielle Steele in that way, but here's the other thing: it's remarkably better written. Honestly. Margaret Mitchell exhibits evidence of knowing how to turn a phrase. There are some descriptions of Georgian landscapes that are breathtaking, and I feel like the dialogue was realistic. Ish. I read this book, at the age of 13, in, like, 3 days, but the main character is the most unsympathetic main character I have ever encountered. I hate to admit this, but I enjoyed reading Gone with the Wind much more than I enjoyed Pride and Prejudice, but while I totally and utterly love Elizabeth Bennet, I want to step on Scarlett O'Hara Hamilton Kennedy Butler's head. I guess that's the point? But why did Rhett bother? He's a cool guy. He wasted way too much time on that bitch. Also, Ashley? He's like someone nobody could find desirable. I mean, I don't even understand why Melanie would want him. Although, Scarlett is sixteen (I think) when the book starts, so I mean, I could see why she'd crush on him, but for the rest of her life? Once she's even gotten Rhett? Idiot.

Anyway, the point of all this was to say that while Gone with the Wind is really nothing great as far as plot, Margaret Mitchell could write. She was a better writer than J.K. Rowling, and I love the Harry Potter books.

Overly dramatic book post!

Once again, I have run out of room for my collection of books. These days, my books reside in two bookcase-ish things from the Mill Store, two actual bookcases, and four wooden crates stacked on top of each other in order to resemble a bookcase. A few weeks ago, I dumped my Buffy the Vampire Slayer lollipop tin of change into a CoinStar machine, got an Amazon.com gift certificate, and purchased ten more books. I have read five of them so far. And then, immediately afterwards, I received a $50 gift certificate to Barnes & Noble for my birthday. I still haven't spent it. You guys. This is the longest I've ever gone in my entire existence without spending all of a Barnes & Noble gift certificate in one fell swoop. A week and a half! I've only been able to show such restraint, because I just bought ten books. But when I've read those ten books, watch out, B&N. And then I won't have anywhere to put them. That is my problem. All my books fit in my bookcases now, but when I get more, as I inevitably will (because $50 of unspent book money, hello), there will be no room! And I have no room for another bookcase/wooden crate tower. This is undoubtedly a recipe for tragedy. But I will figure something out. I shall prevail.

"And since I am dead I can take off my head to recite Shakespearean quotations"

"Why do these girls turn everything into a project? Can't they just like needlecrafts or sports or the environment or art or whatever the hell Stacey likes without teaching a class or starting a team or opening a community college?" -Claudia's Room

"I have met thousands and thousands of pro-choice men and women. I have never met anyone who is pro-abortion. Being pro-choice is not being pro-abortion. Being pro-choice is trusting the individual to make the right decision for herself and her family, and not entrusting that decision to anyone wearing the authority of government in any regard." -Hillary Clinton

Apparently, the world is having a Baby-Sitters Club resurgence

Who knew?

Okay. Y'all. Y'all, y'all, y'all. The other day I found the greatest/weirdest/worst thing ever. They turned the first Baby-Sitters Club book into a graphic novel. Honest to God. Here is a link. I don't know what to make of this information. I think it's awesome or the end of the world. I mean, I'm not a fan of graphic novels, but it's not like the Baby-Sitters Club books were great works of literature. They were even worse than Harry Potter, and I read them like there was no tomorrow. Natch, my fave was Kristy, except she was kind of loud and obnoxious, so sometimes I preferred Mary Anne. And Alex Mack was in the movie! Good grief, Baby-Sitters Club love is so embarrassing.

But, in retrospect, here is my favorite moment from the entire BSC collection. I have no idea which book it's from--probably one of the earlier ones--but it involves punctuation (shockingly enough). So, the BSC beetches are having a meeting at Claudia's, as they do, and they apparently have some sign that says "Baby-Sitters Club" on Claud's door, because at some point Claudia's sister Janine--who is a huge bookish nerd in direct contrast to Claudia, the artsy slacker--stops by to ruminate on the subject of whether or not there should be an apostrophe in their club's name. Pretty much everyone is dumbfounded, and I cannot for the life of me recall any of Janine's reasoning for the apostrophe or against it, but it has stuck in my head lo these many years. I believe "Baby-Sitters Club" requires an apostrophe, because the club belongs to the baby-sitters, and I think that was one of Janine's ruminations, but I have no idea what she decided. Of course, Claud and the gang totally ignored her. I really wish I could find that book. I would love to read that scene again. Too bad I totally threw/gave away all my BSC books out of utter embarrassment.

Now, today I found this blog. This bitch is re-reading all the BSC books and blogging about it. It's fantastic. Here's a taste: "The front cover painting shows Jessi, Mallory, Dawn/Stacey (I can’t always tell them apart in cover art. Sometimes trendy/sophisticated and California casual look EXACTLY THE SAME!) are playing in the leaves with some kids, possibly Pikes." I always had that problem! I never knew which one was Dawn and which was Stacey on the damn covers. What was that about?

Speaking of my all-consuming love for Kelly Clarkson

Bitch canceled her summer tour! I wept bitterly this morning as I got dressed for work. And then! Just as I was leaving, her video for "Never Again" came on VH1, and I wept anew.

Okay, so I didn't really weep, but I am so bummed. I was looking forward to that show like nothing else. I don't care who knows it: I love this girl, and basically I want to have her children. Okay? Okay. And now she is not coming to Boston, which is in the only state in the country where we could be legally married. Sigh.

So I am mad and sad and now kind of worried. Like, is Kelly having a meltdown? Or maybe she just needs to take a really long nap. But she'd best get her butt back on the road soon.

I'm hooked on you I need a hit I can't take it

I have decided. There is only one American Idol contestant whose studio recordings I enjoy listening to. You're smart. You figure out which one. But! Everyone else I've ever liked on AI, I can't stand listening to their studio-recorded stuff. I adored Tamyra Gray, but her album tanked. I still listen to the bootlegged mp3s of her AI performances all the time, though. And today I found out that iTunes put up the rest of season six's contestants' studio recorded songs, and I got all excited, because I love Melinda, but turns out I only love watching Melinda perform. Her studio-recorded songs bore me. Same thing with Jordin, but I thought that was just her. Then I realized it was Tamyra and Melinda as well. Which is why Kelly Clarkson is the greatest. The end.

No one loves macaroni and cheese like I do

It's true. I will eat any form of mac 'n cheese. From the Ray. From Kraft. Homemade by yours truly with a recipe from Rachael Ray (who is not the Ray--the Ray is a place). Even deep fried mac 'n cheese! Even deep fried mac 'n cheese from the Ray! Delicious. So, obv, when I go to New York in, like, three weeks, my friends are getting dragged here. Even though I have no idea where the East Village is in relation to where we are staying. Details, details. This is a restaurant that only serves macaroni and cheese, people! How can I not go?

Apocalypse now

So it finally happened. I finally read a book that was decidedly worse than the movie. I know. I know. I am shocked my own self, but here's the thing, y'all. The Devil Wears Prada is bad. Baaaaad. It's not well-written; the characters are little more than cliches; and, since I'd seen the movie first, the outrageous behavior of the titular character did not shock or delight or whatever me. I mean, seriously, Miranda Priestly on a printed page absolutely pales in comparison to Meryl Streep. Now. I didn't even like the movie all that much, but Meryl Streep and Emily Blunt managed to make it mostly enjoyable. And Stanley Tucci! Who doesn't even exist in the novel, so. The movie took a lot of creative liberty, which was good, because the book was long and boring and didn't really tell a compelling story, but it still ended up with a plot identical to that of the film version of The Princess Diaries. (What is up with that, Anne Hatheway? Seriously. The only other Anne Hatheway movie I've seen is Brokeback Mountain, which obviously bears no resemblance to that plot, but what of her other films? I wonder...)

Basically, the novel sucked; the movie was only enjoyable because of the actors. In fact, I would watch it again right now just for Emily Blunt. I even liked The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants better as a novel. And that movie had Alexis Bledel in her underwear! So, for real. The Devil Wears Prada is bad. Sorry, Lauren Weisberger. Oh, wait! Here's a thing that she did that I hate that I just remembered. Allegedly, Miranda Priestly is based upon uber-bitch Anna Wintour, editor of Vogue, which is just fine, but then at the end of the novel, Miranda actually encounters Anna Wintour at some Paris fashion hootenany, and our narrator remarks that Anna and Miranda are always being compared, because they're both fashion bitches who put out important magazines. Like, leave it alone! If you're basing a character on someone real, leave the real person out of the story. That's just so dumb. And heavy-handed. Like, just in case you didn't see the similarities I'd drawn between my character and this real life fashion editor, LET ME POINT IT OUT FOR YOU LIKE THIS.

I need to stop ending paragraphs with all this yelling.

Word rage

In the spirit of crying about things I saw years ago, here's a story about the incorrect use of the word alliterative.

Now, let's preface this with as unpretentious definition of alliteration as possible. First, alliteration happens when two or more words begin with the same consonant sounds. Not letters. Sounds. Also, consonant-only. 'Kay? 'Kay.

Anyway, this story involves Jeopardy! which is part of the reason why it's so upsetting, but here goes. Once upon a time, I was watching Jeopardy!, and one of the answers was about "a publishing house with an alliterative name" or something, and not one of the contestants got it right. Turns out the questions was "What is Simon & Schuster?" I almost had an aneurysm. "Simon & Schuster" is not alliterative! Those words start with the same letter, obviously, but they do not start with the same consonant sound. I do not understand how anyone who's taken freshman English does not know that it is the sound, not the letter, that matters in alliteration. For example, "buen viaje" ("good trip" in Spanish) is alliterative, despite the words' beginning with different letters, because in Spanish the letter b and the letter v are pronounced exactly the same. The 's' in Simon is not the same sound as the 'sh' sound in Schuster. Gah. It's the same with all consonant blends like that. "Small skirt"? Also not alliterative. Skanky skirt? Yes.

"All riiiiight, field trip. Where we goin', man?" "The field."

I put three seasons of Daria on my iPod, and it was the greatest thing I ever did. I love Daria. Why isn't it on DVD yet?

Capitalize this, mother-effer

Even before I was a professional proofreader, I had the rules of grammar and punctuation shoved up my butt, so it really kind of pains me to admit this, but... I hate the rules of capitalization. I hate capitalizing titles of things beyond the initial letter in the first word. Maybe learning the rules of Spanish grammar and punctuation did this to me? But it's true. I hate it. I hate correcting incorrectly capitalized prepositions or articles or conjunctions. However, I also hate the rule many other style guides have opted for of capitalizing every single word in a title, regardless of its part of speech, because I think that just looks ugly.

However. Maybe I now hate the rules of capitalization, because I've been spending hours fixing the capitalization in my iTunes library.

Help.

Gather ye $3 shower gels while ye may

So the beginning of June means that Bath & Body Works has begun to put its entire store on sale. Three days only, shower gels are $3! Do you know how many $3 shower gels people will buy at once? Enough so that they end up spending at least forty dollars. What bananas. So this massive sale means that I get more hours at work, which means I get more money, but it also means I spend more hours at work. Last night was fun, though. I really do like almost all of the people there. Anyway, the $3 shower gel thing ends today, but I'm sure there will be more craziness soon enough.

Here is a thing that has literally been bothering me for years, but I don't believe I've ever publicly complained about it before. Way back in the day (eighth grade-ish?), I bought a Veruca Salt album, because, I mean, come on. They named their band after a character in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory! That was all I needed. However. Sometime later, I saw an interview clip of them on MTV News, in which they were, like, "Which one was Veruca Salt? The one that got turned into a blueberry?" And I freaked out, like I do when people get information about books incorrect. But seriously, bitches. Know where your band name comes from! That's like...I can't think of a good analogy right now, but it's like when people say things like, "This band did a cover of Soft Cell's 'Tainted Love'" when Soft Cell's version is in fact a motherfucking cover its own damn self. No, that's not so much an analogy as it is something else that bugs the crap out of me. (Okay, so even that is a bad example, because, like, a million people have done versions of "Tainted Love," but whatever. Okay, here, it's like, somebody saying, "Oh [some band] did a great cover of the Counting Crows' 'Big Yellow Taxi.'" Thankfully, I've never heard such blasphemy for real, because HELLO JONI MITCHELL. And why am I screaming? Oh, lord.)

Anyway. Blueberry girl? Violet Beauregard. Veruca Salt? Spoiled little shit who got dumped into the garbage.