Fifty Ninth Post

Hi, everybody.
You may or may not know about my past flirtation with the world of vlogging. It started in february, but then I ran out of time to edit videos and had to do school things.
I filmed myself rambling about "zen" tea that destroys me, but that one never went up.
I filmed my house, but that will never go up.
But yesterday, I filmed and edited a video thanking JK Rowling. It's not very good as far as videos go. I just have my built-in iSight camera and microphone with which to film, and, while adequate, they are not the best.
However, it's a start. I have a slightly romantic view of vlogging- I'll just make videos on my built-in camera and post them, crappy as they are, and people will watch them and like me! Then I'll have internet friends.
Unlikely.
I kind of want a video camera for when I go to england, but I doubt that will happen. Most likely I will just blog, post a lot of pictures on the study abroad blog, and make about one video the whole time I'm in another country.
ANYWAY. Back to the Harry Potter vlog post.
The idea of the original video (italktosnakes' "Want to say "thank you" to JK Rowling?" video) was for lifelong fans to thank JK Rowling for the impact she's had on their lives for the past fourteen years.
I talked a little bit about how Harry Potter has impacted the world in general: Ravelry.com has groups devoted to Harry Potter, there is a whole new genre of music that grew up from the internet, and someone has invented a sort of "ground quidditch".
Fact: Harry Potter had no impact in my life at all until five years ago when people started wondering why I had never read them (Answer: for the lulz gained from people's shocked reaction).
However, since I read the books in quick succession last summer, I've noticed depths to Harry Potter that I might have missed as a child. Harry is not just some kid who plays a mix of rugby, baseball, basketball, and bocce on broomsticks; he's not even a particularly lucky/talented kid who vanquishes ultimate evil. He embodies some of the good things that we like to think about ourselves, as a good protagonist should (at least in "children's" literature, as the series began). He's heroic, he's loyal to his friends, he's a natural leader. He also, however, embodies things that we like to ignore about ourselves. This is where we leave the realms of children's stories and get into the depths of human nature. His awareness of his wizarding prowess leads him to be reckless, foolhardy, and arrogant. Harry is a real person, in other words. He's a real teenager, unfortunately. He mopes, he whines, he takes out his anger on the wrong people. What makes him a protagonist, someone that people want to emulate, is the fact that he deals with the stupid human faults to which he is prone. In spite of his failings, he manages to get himself back on track and save the world.
Imagine if everyone could do that.

Fifty Eighth Post

You may recall that I wanted to read at least 20 new books this summer. If not, I refer you to this post, number 1 in The List (you'll know it when you see it).

1. Wuthering Heights, Emily Brontë. 

The Brontë sisters (Emily, Charlotte, and Anne – mostly Emily and Charlotte, and then, I think, mostly Emily) are engaged in a sort of contention with Jane Austen. I kind of understand this, as they were all contemporary female authors who wrote about ladies who ended up getting married. The thing is that Jane writes about a world that seems totally alien to the world of the Emily and Charlotte. Pride and Prejudice is widely regarded as one of everybody’s favourite books. It’s peaceful, with enough drama to stay interesting. Elizabeth Bennet is beset by enough troubles and has enough acknowledged flaws that she is believable and likeable, but she still gets a happy ending, as does pretty much everyone else with the possible exception of Lydia. On the other hand, Jane Eyre gets a happy ending, but Bertha Rochester really does not, and even Mr. Rochester has tragedy. Catherine Linton gets a happy ending (eventually, sort of), but Catherine (Earnshaw) Linton, Edgar Linton, Isabella Linton, Hindley Earnshaw, Young Linton, and Heathcliff do not. Virginia Woolfe (in A Room of One’s Own) points out that the writing styles, and the story styles, are completely different. Jane Austen wrote in fairly unbroken periods, all by herself, and Pride and Prejudice reflects this in its even narrative and graceful dialogues. Emily Brontë, at least, did not have this luxury. Wuthering Heights is full of angry characters, short bursts of dialogue, and choppy narrative. 

All this does not mean that I dislike the book in any way. I’m just pointing out that it’s different from Pride and Prejudice in some very fundamental ways, which makes straightforward comparison idiotic. In fact, I really enjoyed Wuthering Heights, which is one of my new favourites. It takes its place among Jane Eyre, The Story of Avis, and Crime and Punishment as a book that is steeped in raw, intense emotion and is full of questions to ask. 

X. Tess of the D'Urbervilles, Thomas Hardy. 

I’m having a hard time with Tess. So far, it’s well written, but perhaps too well. I internalize Tess's guilt, shame, fear, which is bad when things are rough at all. I will finish it this summer, but I’m not sure when.

2. Guards! Guards! Terry Pratchett. 

I needed something light to counter the depression brought on by the combination of financial woes and Tess's issues, and the Pratchett picked up at the same time as Tess was perfect. It introduces (I believe) several of my favourite characters: Sam Vimes (drunk watchman), Sybil Ramkin (Swamp Dragon Breeder and also a Lady), Carrot Ironfoundersson (six-foot-tall dwarf and watchman), and Detritus (troll “bouncer” at a tavern who appears in later books as a watchman). I’m not sure when Lord Vetinari is installed as Patrician – I need to check in The Color of Magic for a mention of him. The book is dedicated to under appreciated guards everywhere, including mall cops.

3. Sourcery, Terry Pratchett. 

Guards! Guards! was over too quickly, so I read another Pratchett. This book is another one regarding Rhincewind (whose hat says “Wizzard”). This time he goes  toe-to-to with evil in the form of the eighth son of an eighth son of an eighth son (which explains why wizards are now celibate). This book is very much before the books I picked up with, and there is a different set of wizards running the Unseen University. That took some getting used to, but Sourcery is a look, as per usual, at the darkness in one’s own soul. I don’t know why I like them so much.

4. This Side of Paradise, F. Scott Fitzgerald. 

I want The Great Gatsby, but it’s far too expensive as a rule. As a result of This Side of Paradise being $1 to The Great Gatsby’s $12, I went with the cheaper and now have plans to hunt down more of his works. I was expecting stuffy, but Fitzgerald brought an unlikeable person through his rocky childhood, his irritating adolescence, and his frustrated college years and turned him into a sympathetic character that still has serious issues. He’s still frustrating and irritating and childish at times, but he’s a real person who’s had real experiences and who sacrifices and loves and hurts. The book is a serious book, meant to make one question pretty much everything.

5. Equal Rites, Terry Pratchett. 

This was unusually hard to read, for a Pratchett. I blame the feminist issues at the core of the book. After I took Women Writers (EL-126) for my American Diversity credit in the spring of my freshman year, I have a hard time seeing sexism without anger. Happily, Pratchett seems to share this point of view. Esk, his eight-year-old heroine, lashes out at a chauvinist culture that won’t allow her to be a wizard, even though a dying wizard passed his staff and power on to her infant self.  

6. The Light Fantastic, Terry Pratchett. 

Book no. 2 in the discworld series, holy cow. Definitely a sequel to The Color of Magic, purchased but as yet unread. This one explains how Rhincewind acquired the Luggage, which apparently belonged to Twoflower (I first met him in Interesting Times). I’m going to read this again after reading The Color of Magic in hopes of gaining a better understanding

7. The Food of the Gods, H.G. Wells. 

This is a sci-fi novel from well before my time. Then, 20 years in the future was before my grandparents had even met. It’s still an engaging read, although I was suspicious of book that was made into B horror flicks about giant bugs. Ergh. However, it was more about human nature than big bug bugs. Two thoroughly boring scientists discover a compound that will cause continuous growth through childhood and adolescence. England eventually decides that the “Children of the Food,” giants more than forty feet tall, are second-class citizens and forbid them from traveling the public roads. Being small and delicate comes into fashion. One young giant, a gentle, curious man, wanders into London in search of the answers that his village leaders refused to give him; a mob kills him. Two giant lovers are forbidden to see one another, but they flee to an encampment of giants, where the fate of the world is changed. Through it all, “normal” people are stubborn and closeminded, feeling threatened by anything different. I have plans to read more Wells.

8. The Sign of Four, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Also The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, a few weeks later (see number 14 for details). 

I now have plans to read the rest of the Sherlock Holmes stories. I really enjoyed seeing where the 2009 movie drew on the books; I spotted a few direct quotes from both Holmes and Watson. The Sign of Four is an engaging story. I understand why the stories have survived and been adapted so many times. Holmes is unlikeable, arrogant, and brilliant. His redeeming factors are his assertions that class is no distinguisher of persons, his fierce desire to right all wrongs, and his care for his associates (generally, just Watson, but sometimes including his clients or their friends and relatives). He’s not the stiff man in a deer-stalker hat of bad detective jokes, but rather a rough-and-tumble boxer, chemist, geologist, and “self poisoner” (i.e. tobacco and cocaine addict. I was surprised, too). 

9. Cliges, Chrétien de Troyes. 

It was the only unread story in my Chrétien anthology from Arthurian Literature, so I read it. As expected, it was way better than the last two installments in the Vulgate Cycle, but more annoying than I remembered. Then remembered that my favourite was Silence, not a Chrétien at all. It was okay, but not awfully interesting. First in the story is how two beautiful people come together (yawn, I had forgotten how much the man has love personified), and second is how Cliges, their son, had his inheritance and true love stolen. He proceeds to steal back both, which would be exciting if his lady wasn’t so whiney. 

10. Dakhmeh, Naveed Noori. 

I am fascinated by iranian revolution (the recent 1980s muslim one that set the country back about 400 years as far as human, especially women's, rights are concerned), thanks to Reading Lolita in Tehran (Azar Nafisi's memoir). This is a novel from view of young man who returns to iran from US, tries to “help” the downtrodden rebellion, and is imprisoned, as opposed to the memoir view of professor who leaves. It’s hard read, thanks to the brutal voice of the narrators. Life was not nice. It was not fun. 

11. The Color of Magic, Terry Pratchett. 

The first of pratchett’s discworld series. Having recently read light fantastic, I was eager to read this one. a falling out with the cousins with whom we were staying on vacation prompted me to put down Pnin and pick up something that I knew would make jokes and end well. The Color of Magic is now a comfort book for me. It’s an odd quirck of human nature (or just Raeann nature) that the things that bring comfort during sickness and stress are associated with the comfort instead of the stress. My favourite movie: Dune, watched first when sick. My favourite hot drink: Alpine apple cider, first imbibed in great quantity when writing stressful papers with a headache. My favourite clothes: loose, comfortable clothes that I’ve probably worn while sick. Favourite childhood books: those read to me when I was sick. My new favourite book (replacing nothing, with the possible exception of Louis L’Amour; Terry Pratchett and Charlotte Brontë, Fyoder Dostoyevsky, and Tom Clancy can’t really be compared on the same scale): The Color of Magic, read when I was dealing with a real, honest-to-God family fall-out that led to us leaving twenty minutes later without any of our cold food. I saw my parents in a much more vulnerable state than ever before, and realised that it is indeed possible for people to dislike my family after real association with us. I won’t say that we were saints, but we didn’t deserve the opinion that my cousins formed of us.  

12. Pnin, Vladimir Nabokov. 

I was working on Pnin the day before that relationship went in the crapper. Happily, Pnin is a much lighter novel emotionally than Tess, or I would probably never read another Nabokov. I hope to read more Nabokov, because I want to gain some more context for how I view the book. I’ll probably reread it and form a new opinion when it’s not in the context of misery and confusion, and bookending The Color of Magic. The book is not about an issue, as most of my books are, but about a man. I had trouble following it for a while, at least until I figured out that it was never going to be about a central issue/concept/conflict. Actually, I really want to reread it when I have time to really think about the whole thing and the underlying message that I’m sure is there. (This was another reading inspired by Reading Lolita in Tehran. Lolita is a Nabokov that Nafisi teaches. I wanted Lolita, but Pnin was the only book I could afford.) I plan to make an attempt to compare Nabokov with Dostoyevsky, one of my favourites, and Tolstoy (not really a favourite). It’ll happen anyway, since they’re all Russian, but I’d like to do it consciously. Nabokov lived and wrote in a different era than did Dostoyevsky, and my analysis will reflect that.

13. Carpe Jugulum, Terry Pratchett. 

Hooray hilarity! I definitely ditched King Lear for this one. Shakespeare puts me to sleep, as awesome as he is, especially when I’m stressed about anything. Most poetry does, actually. I am not a poetry person, although I do plan to finally finish King Lear (been working on him since… fall semester) and also work on The Canterbury Tales this summer. Anyway. Carpe Jugulum is pretty much about discovering that you’re strong enough to deal with just about anything. One character demonstrates this very literally, as her “alter ego” (floabw) is actually physically stronger than she is. Instinct, motherly and otherwise, takes a strong place in the book as well. The book is also, as per usual for Pratchetts, about not being an asshole. It sounds really trite when I put it this way, but the book is really awesome. Read it, losers.

14. The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. 

See number 8, The Sign of Four, for a description. The collection from HarperCollins includes “A Scandal in Bohemia”, “The Red-headed League”, “A Case of Identity”, “The Boscombe Valley Mystery”, “The Five Orange Pips”, “The Man with the Twisted Lip”, “The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle”, “The Adventure of the Speckled Band”, “The Adventure of the Engineer’s Thumb”, “The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor”, “The Adventure of the Beryl Coronet”, and “The Adventure of the Copper Beeches”. As stated above, I am very fond of these stories and have plans to acquire the rest. As it is, I owe my parents a clean room for this one. 

Only six to go and it's only July!

Regarding the rest of my list: I have not worked much on German, I have a job and am planning a yard sale, I have not finished any of the projects that I mentioned, I have not gone swimming, I still don't have a bike (but I have gone on walks), I have not flagged down the ice cream truck, I have planted Something, I have not watched much TV at all, I haven't done much cooking, I haven't cleaned my room, I haven't been to a yard sale, I haven't run through any sprinklers at all (although I did get wet on my way back from my first night of work), and I haven't had time to work on being ambidextrous.