Dear Readers,


I now consider this blog to be my Juvenelia. Have fun perusing the archives, and find me at my new haunt, here.

Monday, November 03, 2008

Monday Morning Poem: for Barack

one day to go...

I, Too, Sing America by Langston Hughes
I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.

Tomorrow,
I'll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody'll dare
Say to me,
"Eat in the kitchen,"
Then.

Besides,
They'll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed--

I, too, am America.



Sunday, November 02, 2008

Me as Sarah Palin

Those are my companions, Joe the Plumber and Russia, whom I can see from my doorstep.

doing my foreign policy hw so I can be ready next time Katie Couric tries to zing me.

Joe sure hates taxes!
(Ignore the sign behind him, we were at the house of some un-American folks. They were of the Hebrew persuasion, if you know what I mean.)

with my field-dressed moose at the Halloween Parade in Fake America, the bastion of the gotcha liberal media. You betcha!

Funny thang. There were 9 other Sarah Palins there, and 11 other Joes-the-plumbers! I also saw my daughter Bristol with my son-in-law Levi and my adorable disabled anti-choice prop son Trig.

Friday, October 31, 2008

HAPPY HALLOWEEN


I'm going as Sarah Palin. Pictures tk.



Scary, right?

Thursday, October 30, 2008

Lord of the Rings: The Great Re-Read


So here it is, at last. My thoughts on my Tolkien-reimmersion...

I thought I'd start by giving you the Tolkien backstory with my family. Like Senator Obama, who read the whole Harry Potter series to his daughter, my dad read The Hobbit and LOTR out loud to my brother and me when we were kids--the Hobbit when we were 6 or 7, LOTR a year or so later, because we were initially skeptical of any related story that did not star Bilbo front and center. (cute, right?)

The LOTR read-aloud took us over a year. I remember listening to it in our old apartment, in the room we shared, and on the beach in Rhode Island during the summer. By the time we were done with the saga, the Ring was destroyed, the Shire scoured, and the Havens sought, my brother and I had offically outgrown being read aloud to. So a family tradition that began with Mike Mulligan and Dr. Seuss and went through Eleanor Estes and E. Nesbit, ended with Tolkein.

Since then I've re-read the series at least three times, possibly four. Once was as a moody 16 year old. Once was the fall of my freshman year, right before the first film came out, and once was right now. There may have been a middle-school re-read too... but I've blocked those years out:)

So why the seven-year wait for this fourth read? Because Peter Jackson did such an amazing job with the films that for a while I didn't feel like I needed the books. The films had all those new additions: silly one liners and iconic speeches and stunning visuals, and they 100% captured the heart of the books. Occasionally I've flipped through favorite scenes to remind myself. But this last time watching the films, I started getting curious about some more of the arcane details of the books, and also eager to see if my childhood images of the characters had been erased by their onscreen incarnations. So I plunged in.

I'm happy to say the childhood images were still there. The hobbits were much older, wiser, hardier and less childlike in the text, and my earliest imagined images of them came back. So did my somewhat sunnier and less severe images of Galadriel and Elrond. While Fellowship, with its adventures in Tom Bombadil's house, the Old Forest and the Barrow-downs, read like a pleasant nostalgia-trip and took me two weeks, by the time the Company got to Lorien I was having a hard time putting it down, and I zipped through TTT in a few days and ROTK in a single day. The atmosphere really builds up to this all-encompassing crescendo. I started seeing all these Middle-Earthy images in my mind before I went to sleep and I began thinking in sentences that, in their very structure, I fear, contained far too many excess words, and indeed, a Tolkienish rhythm most particular. I also realized again how crucial Tolkien's geekiness was, with the languages and massive history of every Middle Earth race and region, and how effective that makes his world within the fantasy genre: it's 100% believable as another world, more so than any other fictional realm ever created. (Take that, Narnia!)

The funny thing is, what first impressed me about the films was the storytelling. But what also astounded me about Jackson's accomplishments after re-reading the books was how perfectly he shot all the scenery. I mean nothing he shot was actually more frightening, dramatic, or stunning than Tolkien himself described it, from the almost-vertical road in Dunharrow to the creepy black stair, to the lonely mound of Edoras. Jackson really nailed it. The script, which often changes Tolkien's exact words from character to character or place to place, was also ingenious.

The characters, on the other hand, are a bit different, and that's for a reason. In the books, everyone is more brave and good and generally kickass, while in the movies Jackson has each character struggle deeply with him/herself. Tolkien never had Aragorn doubt his calling as king. Legolas was never afraid of battle. Frodo never ever ever abandons Sam, and Merry and Pippin know full well what they are getting into from the beginning: in fact, they have guessed the entire story of the Ring before they set out from the Shire. Obviously, it was extremely effective filmmaking to have each character go through a crisis and/or a conflict and come out of it, but it's also fun to read the books and just enjoy the courageous badassery of men, hobbits, dwarves elves and wizards who just want to get their defeating-of-evil on.

It was a fabulous re-read, and the saga remains so much in my heart. It's so impressive that the films and books each stand alone and also complement each other. The only other adaptations I can think of that do that are the 1995 trio of golden-age Austen adaptations. So here's to you, Peter J and JRR T, for giving Egalitarian Bookworms reason to be entertained, enlightened, and impressed.

And now, for something completely different...

...John Cleese (aka Basil Fawlty!), Ode to Sean Hannity (h/t TPM)

Ode to Sean Hannity

by John Cleese

Aping urbanity
Oozing with vanity
Plump as a manatee
Faking humanity
Journalistic calamity
Intellectual inanity
Fox Noise insanity
You’re a profanity
Hannity

So many poetic devices... truly evocative similes and metaphor, deceptively simple meter, unexpected rhyme scheme... a truly dazzling literary coup.

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Wednesday Afternoon De-Lurk


To my regular, but oft-silent readers: leave a comment! What books are you reading right now, and/or what book do you want to read when your life next allows you the leisure?
Or, if there are any websites or magazines you're reading obsessively instead to check poll numbers and punditocracy, what are they?

I'm reading The Historian, by Elizabeth Kostova. It's quite creepy and very long, so it will be a while before I can review it. Meanwhile, my websites du jour are fivethirtyeight.com, talking points memo and then the entire lefty blogosphere.

Tuesday, October 28, 2008

LOTR Remixes

So my next book review is going to be a long one on the experience of re-watching all three LOTR extended edition DVDS and then re-reading the entire LOTR saga. I finished ROTK about ten days ago, completing the epic adventure!

This is a project whose seed was sown on a dark, dark, August night, when Sarah Palin gave her Sauron-esque acceptance speech and I was all like "I'm craving some good defeating evil right now." But since I'm on deadline, and it's rainy, I thought I'd give you some silliness and cheesy, ridiculous, internetz lols instead. Here are two LOTR viral remixes; be warned, they're catchier than you think...






(see mashedtaters.net for more of this one)

Monday, October 27, 2008

Monday Morning Poem: One Week Til The Election

This is the place they hoped before, by Emily Dickinson
This is the place they hoped before,
Where I am hoping now.
The seed of disappointment grew
Within a capsule gay,
Too distant to arrest the feet
That walk this plank of balm --
Before them lies escapeless sea --
The way is closed they came.

Saturday, October 25, 2008

There Is No Chance of Taking A Walk Today, So Donate Your Money to Some Good Causes

It's a rainy day and windy, too, here on the Eastern Seaboard.

The election is coming up fast. A lot of things hang in the balance, like the fate of our nation, and our rights and such.

And you know what? All fall, I've been craving a new pair of flat, slouchy suede boots. Yeah, I really want those boots.

But reader, I didn't buy them and I won't until this election is over. Instead, I've been giving my equivalent money and time in trickles, so I can have as big an impact as I can 'afore the election.

Here are some ideas for where to donate YOUR shoe-money this fall.


That is all. Enjoy your Saturdays, and hope you don't run into Cousin John Reed whilst you're endeavoring to read your book behind the red curtains.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Brrr...

It's freezing in NYC, readers. I don't mind the winter as much as some, mostly because I love the snow, but it's a huge adjustment when the weather drops this way.

We've got to get used to that feeling of being freezing on the streets--pink noses et all-- and then sweating on the subway platform as the layers that a moment ago felt inadequate now oppress us.

Or perhaps it's getting into our bed all a-shiver, snuggling beneath the blankets, and then waking up at 2.a.m to hear the glug, glug, glug, whissssshhh of the radiator (that's for those of us in pre-war buildings) and feeling our skin begin to dry out by the second as the heat skyrockets.

Sometimes I think living in the temperate Northeast is an exercise of severe masochism. Between sweltering summers and wet, dark winters, we are rarely comfortable.

Or perhaps it's a lesson in hope and endurance. We withstand harsh weather for those beautiful clear days when the changing of the season fills us with sublime contentment at a white blossom or a scarlet-orange leaf.

It depends on how you look at it, I s'pose ; ) Still, to return to cynicism for a moment, I can't wait for daylight savings to end, the sun to set at 5pm, and my SAD to kick in hardocre! W00t!

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Disney Princesses and Feminism



Holy "once upon a time"! There is so much chatter right now in the blogosphere about the world of "pink toys and princesses" for little girls and whether/how we feminists should strike back.

It's a quandary I think about a lot, I must confess, because I freaking LOVED the pink aisle in the toy store as a child. Yes, even though at the age of 8 or so the boys in my class were already calling me a feminazi (no joke) I was still playing with Barbies AND I was besotted with Aurora, Belle, Jasmine and the gang. In fact, the much-maligned "Disney princesses" line sounds to me like a fantasy concocted by my friends and me as we swooshed around the living room in castoff long dresses, hoping for adventure/princes to sweep us away: Wouldn't it be great if all the princesses got to be together? *(That being said, I had a twin brother and I also played with he-men and transformers,)

But just because one can transcend a girly childhood and live a full-feminist life doesn't mean we can't critique said childhood's frilly trappings. After all, fairy tales were invented to control women's behavior to begin with. In Gilbert and Gubar's breakdown of Snow White, for instance, the pricked finger=menstruation/sexuality which turns the virginal young queen into the evil stepmother, the magic mirror=voice of the patriarchy turning women against each other and telling them they're never good enough, and the glass coffin has some other dope significance I forget.**

As Sarah Haskins points out in the Target: women video below, the Disneyfied versions of these stories send a pretty similar, if somewhat more simplistic message. And she doesn't even mention that the "spinsters"/witches are vagina dentatae.



I think hiding this stuff from our daughters or nieces or sibs or mentees or forbidding it will only make girly-land this enticing sparkly world that they experience at their friends' sleepovers or whatever. And we don't want that. So while we should reject the consumerist aspect of it (ie limit the amount of princess swag we purchase), we should by all means let the young ladies in our lives swirl about with a long train and an imaginary prince. But also give them stories about tomboys and read them Roald Dahl's "Revolting Rhymes." Encourage them to write sequels where the princesses save the princes, and teach them how to be critical observers of their society from a young age, while still enjoying imaginative movies and stories.

Easy as pie right? And we'll all live happily ever after! Insert trilling song here.


[As for this other gender-normative crap, the sweet lily palace castle and rose petal cottage ... That stuff just utterly stinks and has no imaginative value whatsoever, so don't buy it for your daughters. Tell them to go slay a dragon or a vaginal old witch instead.]

*Incidentally, I never went for Cinderella or snow White or Ariel that much. My faves were far and away Belle cause she was a nerdy bookworm like me, and Aurora because when she's sequestered in the woods as Briar Rose, she wears the below outfit, way cooler than her pink/blue dress:

** I just looked it up. According to Gilbert and Gubar, the coffin turns Snow White into the patriarchy's ideal woman, an "it," an object, passive behind glass. Ergo the prince loves her at first sight. Also, the dwarves domesticate Snow White and prepare her for a life of female servitude.
As the "Gs" write of the classic tale's so-called happily ever after: "Surely, fairest of them all, Snow White has exchanged one glass coffin for another." (p. 42) In other words, she's now trapped in the same passive life that drove her step-mama (who is really a sexualized incarnation of her real mama) CRAZY with her poisoned combs and apples and stuff.

Monday, October 20, 2008

Monday Morning Poem: Autumn Edition part 3

THE FALLING OF THE LEAVES

by: William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)

      UTUMN is over the long leaves that love us,
      And over the mice in the barley sheaves;
      Yellow the leaves of the rowan above us,
      And yellow the wet wild-strawberry leaves.

      The hour of the waning of love has beset us,
      And weary and worn are our sad souls now;
      Let us part, ere the season of passion forget us,
      With a kiss and a tear on thy drooping brow.

Sunday, October 19, 2008

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME, Part II.


So listen up. It's been TWO YEARS since I started blogging egalitarian-ly about books, and bookishly about egalitarianism. Thank you to the thousands of you who have stopped by (or maybe the five of you who have stopped by thousands of times, whatevs.)

Last year I did a round-up of my favorite posts of the year, and I'll do it again, with the caveat that it's been a less exciting blog-year, as my real writing career took up more of my time and brainpower and coherence. Also, the craziest change in a year of blogging has to be that last year I was still using bloglines, not google reader, and hadn't even heard of twitter or tumblr. Weird.

Nonetheless, this year has been marked by two really important, earth-shattering, life-changing happenings: The Jane Austen Season and the 2008 election.

  • As for the books that affected me the most this year: I adored Cranford (both book and series), ate up Twilight, and couldn't finish a bunch of lauded contemporary books. I was befuddled, confounded and bewitched by the perfection of the Gwendolyn half of Daniel Deronda compared to the saccharine philosemitism of the Deronda half. And speaking of British authors and the Jewz, I also tackled Ivanhoe!
  • Again, I reveled in inanities, dissected superfluities and railed against hypocrisies.

That's all folks. Happy week to you all and happy blogiversaries to Romancing the Tome and Suzanne R.

Saturday, October 18, 2008

I missed my blogiversary!

It's been two years of bloggage and balderdash, by th'rood.

Word!

Much celebration to ensue forthwith, in the coming days, most assuredly.

But now it's time to sleep, for I am much wearied by these trying times.

And yea, verily, I'm talking like a hybrid of Hamlet, Frodo and Tupac, but that's what this blog is all about, yo.