Yes, I have once more got Anna Karenina out of the library and, once more, failed to even open it.
I may never manage it.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Monday, August 31, 2009
Something old, borrowed, new?
WARNING: Spoilers if you have not yet read Pride & Prejudice. Even if your beloved other half bought it for you ages ago. And yes, that OH may not have read all your gifts, but this particular book might just happen to be one of the aforementioned O.H.'s favourite books of all time and if she could be anyone in literature, it would probably be the main character.
Where was I? Ah, yes, after all the preamble of spoiler warnings, I wanted to note that, while away holidaying, I read with a mixture of amusement, fascination and horror, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. It was... pretty good, actually. I have just two grumbles. One, it makes use of puns on "balls" much more than I really think any book needs, let alone an Austen, updated or otherwise (too much of something blue, methinks). Two, part of its very joy - things "falling into place" in the plot - are things that I find on some level troublesome and, really, a failure to understand the importance of the original. For example, Charlotte's decision to marry Mr. Collins makes much more sense, according to some reviews. But of course, in the original, her decision is due to feeling in danger of being left on the shelf, being stuck at home with her parents, and without anyone to take care of her were they to die before she married. The things that don't seem to "make sense" actually do when you look at them through the prism of how clearly women did lack choices and control over their lives.
Nonetheless, I'm not trying to write it off or be (too) humourless about the book. There is an interesting look at gender in both, and knowing the original is essential for getting the point of the later version. In P&P&Z, a large proportion of the nation's defenders the scourge of zombies are unmarried women*; a woman's worth is partly based on her immense strength and ability to kill zombies - Lady Catherine is an absolute legend in that field, which aids the narration by explaining why such an awful woman is so greatly esteemed. P&P&Z elevates women and explicitly recognises how vital they are to a nation's health; it also mocks the things that women were actually valued for - not strength or intellect, but sewing and being gentle and playing the piano - not that playing the piano isn't awesome, but it doesn't make you worth having a relationship with - unless you're really good, I suppose.
What reading P&P&Z mainly brought about was the renewing of my obsession with Austen books, and I have just re-read Persuasion in a day. I do utterly love that book. P&P does win out for me, but the older I get, the more Anne Elliot resonates, and the sadder and more thrilling the story. Maybe it's time to re-visit Emma, too, and of course, Sense & Sensibility - before S&S & Sea Monsters emerges. Would that I were joking.
* When they are married, they cease this work to devote themselves to the presumably much more important job of getting pregnant.
Cross-posted at Grace Goes Abroad.
Where was I? Ah, yes, after all the preamble of spoiler warnings, I wanted to note that, while away holidaying, I read with a mixture of amusement, fascination and horror, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. It was... pretty good, actually. I have just two grumbles. One, it makes use of puns on "balls" much more than I really think any book needs, let alone an Austen, updated or otherwise (too much of something blue, methinks). Two, part of its very joy - things "falling into place" in the plot - are things that I find on some level troublesome and, really, a failure to understand the importance of the original. For example, Charlotte's decision to marry Mr. Collins makes much more sense, according to some reviews. But of course, in the original, her decision is due to feeling in danger of being left on the shelf, being stuck at home with her parents, and without anyone to take care of her were they to die before she married. The things that don't seem to "make sense" actually do when you look at them through the prism of how clearly women did lack choices and control over their lives.
Nonetheless, I'm not trying to write it off or be (too) humourless about the book. There is an interesting look at gender in both, and knowing the original is essential for getting the point of the later version. In P&P&Z, a large proportion of the nation's defenders the scourge of zombies are unmarried women*; a woman's worth is partly based on her immense strength and ability to kill zombies - Lady Catherine is an absolute legend in that field, which aids the narration by explaining why such an awful woman is so greatly esteemed. P&P&Z elevates women and explicitly recognises how vital they are to a nation's health; it also mocks the things that women were actually valued for - not strength or intellect, but sewing and being gentle and playing the piano - not that playing the piano isn't awesome, but it doesn't make you worth having a relationship with - unless you're really good, I suppose.
What reading P&P&Z mainly brought about was the renewing of my obsession with Austen books, and I have just re-read Persuasion in a day. I do utterly love that book. P&P does win out for me, but the older I get, the more Anne Elliot resonates, and the sadder and more thrilling the story. Maybe it's time to re-visit Emma, too, and of course, Sense & Sensibility - before S&S & Sea Monsters emerges. Would that I were joking.
* When they are married, they cease this work to devote themselves to the presumably much more important job of getting pregnant.
Cross-posted at Grace Goes Abroad.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
The Price of Quality
I've been trying to buy some DVDs of classic movies, because recently we've been turning to classics when tired and stressed. A few weeks ago it was Casablanca, and last night I watched the greatest music movie of all time - including even This Is Spinal Tap - A Hard Day's Night. But what I really wanted to make sure we have are Top Hat, The Third Man, and A Night at the Opera. Yet it's impossible to get The Third Man for under $30; Top Hat is not quite as expensive, but similarly uncheap. Why are they so much? You'd have thought less in terms of copyright issues, but somehow it's not the case.
Regardless of the reason, it's annoying. They're totally worth it, but I resent the movie peeps / retailers making these classics more unavailable to the masses. Including me.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Getting Round to Things
I finally read two books that I have wanted to read for a long time but have not yet managed.
First, We Need to Talk about Kevin by Lionel Shriver. It won the Orange Prize in 2005. It is a deeply traumatising and utterly compelling book. It is not the book to read if you are worried about becoming a mother. I wondered often what it was like to read this if you do have children. I imagine for some it would be unbearable to read about how this woman fails to connect with her child and her myriad disappointments and misery thanks to her (lack of) relationship with her child. For others, I imagine they repeatedly say "thank you" for identifying the misery and the inability to truly love her child. All this was very interesting in light of an article published by the Daily Mail a couple of weeks ago in which a mother publicly stated that she didn't really like her daughter. That was probably not the way to go about things, particularly when talking about how much she loves her other daughter. Yet, that's what this book is all about. For those of us who doubt whether we do want to have children, I could empathise with much of this book, yet you could see how much damage she did. It was a really extraordinary book. Apparently she had tremendous trouble finding someone to publish it, but I am very glad she did.
The next book was Ender's Game. It is a classic piece of science fiction, and my mother is mad about it. I basically inhaled it last Sunday, and I really, really recommend it. It's such an interesting question of morality, of reacting to things beyond your control with violence or force, and how people channel their gifts and use them for good or ill. Very interesting, particularly in its discussion of pre-emptive force - it's the Bush Doctrine!
Next up: Going to read some more classic fiction. Just not sure what, yet.
First, We Need to Talk about Kevin by Lionel Shriver. It won the Orange Prize in 2005. It is a deeply traumatising and utterly compelling book. It is not the book to read if you are worried about becoming a mother. I wondered often what it was like to read this if you do have children. I imagine for some it would be unbearable to read about how this woman fails to connect with her child and her myriad disappointments and misery thanks to her (lack of) relationship with her child. For others, I imagine they repeatedly say "thank you" for identifying the misery and the inability to truly love her child. All this was very interesting in light of an article published by the Daily Mail a couple of weeks ago in which a mother publicly stated that she didn't really like her daughter. That was probably not the way to go about things, particularly when talking about how much she loves her other daughter. Yet, that's what this book is all about. For those of us who doubt whether we do want to have children, I could empathise with much of this book, yet you could see how much damage she did. It was a really extraordinary book. Apparently she had tremendous trouble finding someone to publish it, but I am very glad she did.
The next book was Ender's Game. It is a classic piece of science fiction, and my mother is mad about it. I basically inhaled it last Sunday, and I really, really recommend it. It's such an interesting question of morality, of reacting to things beyond your control with violence or force, and how people channel their gifts and use them for good or ill. Very interesting, particularly in its discussion of pre-emptive force - it's the Bush Doctrine!
Next up: Going to read some more classic fiction. Just not sure what, yet.
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