One-Woman Book Club: September Edition

Today’s random musing: Why are there so many songs written about September?

It’s been awhile since I’ve made a book-related post but I haven’t been remiss in my promise / New Year’s resolution to read a minimum of four books a month. So, here goes.


1.  Dexter by Design (Jeff Lindsay) – I did not know that what I read was a fourth book in the series. Serves me right for not reading the fine print and jumping right in.

Anyone familiar with the TV adaptation of the books knows enough to expect blood and gore but it turned out a lot tamer and, for lack of a better word, sterile than expected. When it comes to the actual murders, Jeff Lindsay leaves a lot to the imagination.

Though the book is narrated through the eyes of the vigilante serial killer, Dexter, there’s none of that unsettling and even frightened feeling a “normal” person would (and should!) get when in close proximity with all things grizzly. Perhaps it’s because, being the psychopath that he is, without a conscience, remorse or any strong emotion, Dexter narrates his nocturnal activities with an almost droning and mechanical matter-of-fact-ness.

I can’t wait to read the other books, but just to be safe; I think I’m going to wait a bit. I don’t want to saturate myself with the macabre.

2. The Great Gatsby (F. Scott Fitzgerald) – I know I said no rereads but my resources are limited, so give me a break. Besides, I think enough time has passed.

What can I say? It’s another example of the wrong girl messing up a man’s life. It seems to be a common literary theme, but does it follow in real life? Personally, I’ve seen more cases of men --or should I say boys, messing up girls’ lives, or at least trying to, but never really succeeding --because we’re stronger and more resilient than they think!

In all fairness to the flirty, flighty and shallow Daisy Buchannan’s of the world, myself included, we mean no real harm and we need the love of a good man same as everyone else. And in behalf of my kind, I apologize for all the pain we've inflicted on hapless boys half of whom probably deserved it.


As a parting shot, though I understand the desire to impress someone from our past, if I ever get offered another chance with my ex or any one of the guys I've dated (however briefly), I WONT TAKE IT! I really don't care about what they think of me, in fact I'll be better served if they don't think about me at all. So YOU there, LEAVE ME ALONE!!!


3. Eat Pray Love (Elizabeth Gilbert)– If I don’t “discover” phenomenal successes before everyone else then I prefer reading it once all the hype has died down. I think by now everyone and their cousin has read the book and has formed an opinion about it so none of what I have to say would be original but I will say it anyway.

Elizabeth Gilbert writes beautifully. She’s charming, funny, endearing and she laments about broken hearts and decomposing dreams while simultaneously raving about good food. How can anyone with a heart and a healthy appetite not fall in love?

I forgive her for India where she bored me. I tend to shy away from anything new age-y. Clearly, I experience God and his divinity very differently and I try not to judge but, I’m sorry, it was just too weird for me.

Also, I would not go to an Ashram to “find” myself. (Italy, I understand!). I’m a big believer that we find ourselves in other people whose lives we touch, not through endless, self-indulgent introspection which can entail not talking for hours. I went to a silent retreat when I was in high-school and I didn’t even make it two hours! The retreat mistress heard me talking and rebuked me! “Get away, Satan! Do not rob us of our peace!” It freaked me out!

Somewhere in Indonesia is Gilbert gets very literal with the self-love concept and masturbates. I almost didn’t finish the book. I’m generally not squeamish about sex in literature, except, it turns out, in memoirs! I’m never picking up a memoir with masturbatory bits again. The cover should come with a warning.


4. Committed (Elizabeth Gilbert) – I say skip Eat Pray Love and go straight to Committed. I suppose Eat speaks more to the shiftless single girl while Committed speaks to the girl completely in love (yet still shiftless) and seriously contemplating marriage, which is one of the reasons I find it more accessible. It has all the travel, love, relationship, history and random trivia bits that I loved in Eat and none of the New Age drivel. It's reassuring to read about marriage from the point of view of someone who doesn't want to be a wife, at least not in the conventional sense of the word. You see, I don't want to be a wife either. I want to spend the rest of my life with my one great love in a legally binding way, indeed I do. That's another question altogether.

one-woman book club, April edition

I never got around to finishing Brida. I tried reading it in daylight and it still gave me the creeps.

1. I Love You Beth Cooper Larry Doyle

I have no love for Hayden Panettiere so I’ve never had the urge to watch the movie adaptation, but the book turned out to be quite good. I’ve long out grown high school tales of love, loss and homeworks but  this one to be surprisingly intelligent and lol funny, reminiscent of the great teen movies of old like The Breakfast Club, Sixteen Candles, a little Can’t Buy Me Love and maybe even (a less annoying) Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. I heard the movie tanked and I say blame it on Hayden!

2. The Miseducation of Tabitha Stone Emily Durkheim

Well, I’m having a hard I’m stringing together something to say about this one but I shall try. Smut? Soft-core porn? Amateur erotica? My best friend, Patty lent me this for a laugh. I suppose one must find creative ways to stay sane in law school. The eponymous Tabitha is your typical 25 year old rich-bitch, LA-bred slut wreaking havoc in the small, east coast college her father exiled her to. If they ever make a Paris Hilton biography (have they already?) and if she ever manages a college degree I imagine it would be quite similar to this.

3. Prom Kings and Drama Queens Dorian Cirrone

I picked this one because I gravitate to all things pink. I do indeed judge books by their covers. A page, I kid you not, a page into the book I started to to wonder why I was wasting my time on it when there are more interesting books to waste my time on. But it was an easy enough read so I finished it. The only thing I hate more than disappointments is not finishing what I started. The book was no different from the sweet valley/sweet dreams/love story pocket books I devoured while growing up. Once upon a time I lived for those but as I said earlier I have out grown high school and the stories they inspire.

4. Laughter in the Dark (Camera Obscura) Vladimir Nabokov

I read somewhere that you can’t claim to be well-read if the only thing you’ve ever read of Nabokov is Lolita. So now, am I officially “well-read”? Where do I get my certificate?

Once again, another literary example of how a girl can frak up a man’s life. The protagonist, Albinus, is not as poetic as Humbert so it didn’t have the lyricism of Lolita. While it is also a dysfunctional May-December romance, and this time the girl is, I use the term loosely, of “consenting age”.

5. The Black Dahlia James Ellroy

I was saving this for May but I figured why not give overachievement a try. I read it in a day with no chick-lit breaks in between. I haven’t read much noir books and I’m reminded why in Dahlia. I would’ve rather just borrowed the DVD. One invests much more when reading than in watching a movie, and not just because it takes longer. Strange, because I tend to enjoy police/detective narratives, Sherlock Holmes being the precursor. I wouldn’t immerse myself in anything this depressing for a whole day again. Once I was done with the book I was ready to throw myself off the Hollywood sign.  I've yet to read LA Confidential. I don't think I even want to. I've seen the film. That ought to be enough.

one-woman book club, March edition

I've been slacking off. In fact I only started reading on the 28th. I find that March, the begining of summer and my birthday month, is plenty distracting that it almost waylaid my best laid plans. Not to worry, I completed my --not four, but five books with plenty of time to spare.

1. Percy Jackson : Sea of Monsters by Rick Riordian

I wasn't supposed to read anything of the Percy Jackson kind this month. But, truth be told, Paolo Coehlo's Brida gave me the creeps! Imagine reading about witches, worlocks, tarot cards and the occult late at night -that's when I usually read- in  a dark, empty and old house. I needed a break and...

2. Percy Jackson : Titan's Curse by Rick Riordian

...I didn't want to read a YA novel about vampires. I really wish this vampire-mania blows over soon. The Percy Jackson books have all blurred together in one puddle of mush in my head. I can hardly distiguish one book from the other...

3. Percy Jackson : Battle of the Labyrinth by Rick Riordian

...but I really, really like the series and I'd recommend it in a heartbeat to anyone. I like that it's easy to read, very easy on the eyes (written with dyslexics in consideration perhaps?) and fun, too. I particularly enjoy reading modernized takes on old characters from Greek Mythology like Circe and Daedalus.

4. Good in Bed by Jennifer Weiner

It might be a good idea to include one chick-lit a month. I'm not a big fan of the genre but, as I learned while ploughing through this month's reading list, the "easy" and "fun" books are necessary to get me through. Good in Bed was likewise not part of my original reading list for March, but I needed a break from the wordy and emotionally disturbing Lolita.

The heroine is Cannie, an overweight writer. I suppose you could say that the book resonated with me at many levels and not just with her weight struggles. After all, I vacillate from sizes 6-8 petite for tops and 8-10 petite for bottom (pear-shaped, y'all!). I'm no Olsen twin but that's hardly plus size!

She lost a love, lost some weight and got a big career break while at it. In the end she gets the guy and a baby but she did gain back some of the weight she lost. For  all intents and purposes, it is a happy ending. She came to accept her weight and learned to love her body regardless of size. Well, I haven't given up on becoming a size 2 so those coming-to-terms-with-your-current-weight endings don't really sit well with me.

5. Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov                    

                                                                      

What can I say about this one that hasn't already been said? It's shocking, immoral, sad, perverted, disturbing and everything it's touted to be. It's also very beautifully written, the language and the imagery are simply divine -and it gave me a migrane! I like to finish books in one sitting but I couldn't do that with Lolita, where 10 minutes of reading felt like several hours.

Sentences are long and languorous, pretty though it may be it's torture after a few pages. I like that the narrator, Humbert Humbert would intermittenly and without warning switch to French sans the English translation. My meager units of French back in college weren't such a waste after all. 

Lolita has become one of those must-read books but I actually prefer the movie (Adrian Lyne, 1997). It keeps the best lines (light of my life, fire of my loins, my sin, my soul), and the gorgeous cinematography and clever use soft-focus goes a long way in turning the otherwise depraved to something tragically beautiful. The movie version Humbert (played by Jeremy Irons) is only half as dispicable. Though I suppose that has a lot to do with the movie leaving out a lot of the more disturbing details of H's life pre-Lolita and because Jeremy Irons is one inbelievably dreamy guy! (Stanley Kubric's Humbert was not nearly as pretty).

I have not a shred of sympathy for book version Humbert Humbert, nor for the titular Lolita.  How ever beautifully written, it does not make what it is about any easier to stomach. Nonetheless, Nabokov's talent is unquestionable and I'm excited to read more of his works.

My one-woman book club, February edition

I enjoyed this month's selection immensely. The thing with reading is you don't know what you got until you've finished reading it. Feb's a good month. :D

 1. Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan

See this post

2. Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky

This was absolutely brilliant! It's my new favorite. But I say that about all the good ones right after reading them. This one had me sitting in the bathroom, crying, for 10 minutes when I finished it. The ending wasn't particularly sad, it was more of poignant than anything. But I was sad that it was over and there weren't any more pages to read!

3. Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro

I've read Remains of the Day, but I think I like this one better. His prose is wrought with so much pent up emotion that it hurts to breathe! I think restraint is the defining trait of all the characters in his novels. Obviously, that's something I know very little about, which makes his works even more interesting a read. I'm all for suspending the imagination!

I can't wait for the movie. I love you, Keira Knightley.

4. Long Way Down by Nick Hornby

How ironic for a book that is essentially about suicide to provide me all the good vibes I will be needing for at least month. Hornby is a genius. I imagine if Philip Roth had a pop culture geek of a brother who's funnier and less, err.., less Jewish and more middle class British he'd be exactly like Hornby.

Percy Jackson, my hero!

I never got around to finishing book #4 of January. There were too many to choose from and I couldn't stick to just one. I ended up reading the first few chapters of several books. My fickle nature will be the death of me. My boyfriend Toni thinks I have ADHD, which brings to mind book number #1 for Feb: Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Theif.  That was a mouthful! 

I watched the movie before I read the book, which is good, otherwise I'd spend the whole lenght of the movie comparing the two, out loud! I'm one of those annoying movie-goers who can't stay quiet. I'm also a sucker for Greek-mythology and I'd watch pretty much anything with Sean Bean. I even watched Silent Hill!

My boyfriend took to calling me goddess or demi-goddess, because in Percy Jackson-verse, a sure sign of divine parentage is dyslexia and ADHD. I pointed out that I don't have ADHD. He replied, "are you sure?"

No. I'm not actually sure. I did date a guy with ADHD for quite awhile and he'd blame it for his tool-like behavior. I'm nothing like him!

The story behind the Percy Jackson is just as great, if not better, as the the series itself. Percy Jackson, diagnosed with dyslexia and ADHD, began as a character in a bedtime story Rick Riordan created for his own son, Hailey who himself was diagnosed with dyslexia and ADHD. As most dyslexia goes, nine year old Haley had trouble reading, but he was very interested in Greek mythology. When Riordan ran out of Greek myths for the boy, he took up Hailey's suggestion and came up with his own. So began the adventures of Percy Jackson, ADHD and dyslexia addled, modern day son of sea-god Poseidon.

To write off Percy Jackson as a Harry Potter Xerox is to miss the point. While Riordan credits J.K. Rowling as an influence, he explains that both Harry Potter and Percy Jackson are similar, in that they are modeled after the same archetype: an outcast protagonist with horrible monsters standing between him and his great destiny. Lots of stories follow a similar structure and are no less loved for it.

Hailey, now 15 has only praises for the character he inspired. In one interview, he was quoted:

"Percy has changed my life.You read a lot of books and none of them have a hero who is ­dyslexic or has ADHD – it's always perfect people in a perfect world ­doing perfect things. Percy is, in fact, very flawed and he has to fight against that and at the same time fight monsters."

It warms the cockles of my cold little heart, truly it does. Dyslexia is far from being a badge of honor but the more attention it gets the better it is for those suffering from it. It wasn't even a part of my lexicon until high school and even then, I didn't think I had it. I could read, faster than most people in fact. Everything else that didn't seem to function normally with me, I chalked up to something else.

Growing up, there were only two kinds of students: good and bad. You were good if you kept your notebook neat, if you could copy everything from the blackboard, if you're good at spelling, if you can do long division without giving yourself a migrane. I couldn't do any of that. I was a lazy, daydreaming kid who never tried hard enough.

My notebooks/workbooks were a joke as I could never finish copying anything. Often, I'd mirror write, that is, write from right to left insted of the reverse. One of my most vivid school memories was of me volunteering to answer one of the math equations on the board, I got the answer right but the next thing I knew the whole class was laughing and I couldn't understand why. Eventually, after a fit of giggles, my teacher finally condescended to explain that I wrote my answer backwards. That was the last time I ever volunteered for anything that involved writing on the blackboard.

I would go on misspelling words, confusing dance steps, avoiding arithmetic at all cost and writing in my chicken scratch penmanship. Oddly enough, I fell in love with books and grew up to be a voracious reader.

Years later, it took all but 10 minutes for a neurologist to deduce what was wrong with me. It was a dinner party and we were sharing a table. I don't know what it was exactly that made him suspect. Perhaps he noticed how rattled I got with a harmless "left or right" question. He asked me if I make a lot of spelling errors, reverse my letters, etc.. Apparently, he was guilty of all the same things. That's how his dyslexia manifested.

I was just relieved there's someone to tell me I'm not an idiot. Not that I ever believed I was an idiot, but certainly I knew something was wrong with me. I still misspell words a lot (thank you Lord for spell checkers!) and I'll hesitate for a split second if you ask me a "left or right" question. But that's as bad as it gets. I'm an otherwise perfectly functional human being. I wish I could hunt down all my elementary teachers and tell them that. Kids aren't necessarily dumb or lazy if they can't read, spell or if they're not good in maths (it's not the theory, it's the numbers!). I'd bet my appendix and my spleen that I'm smarter and I've read more books than 3/4 of those kids who ever laughed at me.

To keep to the spirit of this post I wont use the spell checker. Enjoy deciphering through my mess. Be glad this wasn't hand-written.

one-woman book club, January edition

At the beginning of the year I promised myself I'd make time to catch up on my reading. I've decided on a MINIMUM of 4 books a month (48 books by the end of the year).  I will chronicle my progress in this blog.

As of today I'm 3 out of four and I still have 6 more days to go. More than enough time for another book.

1. Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides.

- I've read this before way back in the early 2000s but I'm still counting this one. However, in the future, rereads will not be included. I love Jeffrey Eugenides. He's one of the very few authors I read solely for his writing style. He could write an intruction manual for a lear jet and I'd still read it!

2. Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell
- Honestly, I don't know why I keep reading Malcolm Gladwell. Curiosity, perhaps? Meh. Tipping Point wasn't bad. But there's no chance of a reread for this one. Ever.

3. High Fidelity by Nick Hornby

- I love Nick Hornby. Almost as much as I love his characters. I can't believe I waited this long to read High Fidelity. I've seen the movie and although I feel it was charmingly done and perfectly cast (John Cusak and Jack Black esp.), I even like it better set in Chicago, I'm a written-word kind of girl and very few movies will ever be as good as its book version. Except maybe the Lord of the Rings series. Sorry, Tolkien.