Atonement

Last year I read Little Children by Tom Perrotta and then watched the movie based on the book. I did the same with Trainspotting - this, however, proved that not all books can successfully be adapted into a movie, though the movie was good.

[Note:] I liked the book by Perrotta, something a lot of people in the critic circle didn’t care too much about - Esquire, I believe, said the best way to read a Tom Perrotta novel was to watch the movie. I disagree. I like his writing. However, if you read the book, try not to say how much you like it in public. I was the victim of a lot of looks when I announced to my friend, rather loudly, that “I love Little Children!” Some book titles are best left unspoken.

This year, however, I’m going to read Atonement before moving onto the film. Jyg bought the book (movie tie in) for my birthday. Sadly, Hastings didn’t have the original cover anywhere in the store. It doesn’t matter, movie tie ins only make it look like the only reason you have the book is because you saw the movie. In any case, I wanted to read the book way before the movie existed.

Here’s what the back of the book says:

“On a summer day in 1935, thirteen-year-old Briony Tallis witnesses a moment’s flirtation between her older sister, Cecilia, and Robbie Turner, the son of a servant. But Briony’s incomplete grasp of adult motives and her precocious imagination bring about a crime that will change all their lives, a crime whose repercussions Atonement follows through the chaos and carnage of World War II and into the close of the twentieth century.”

I already got the movie, but I haven’t watched because I want to read the book first, as I had always intended to do. I started last night and I’ll try to finish it within a week, hopefully. I realize that I don’t read as quickly as I once did. I’m not sure why.

Reading

I’ve never read anything by O. Henry before. Right now I want to read something by him. While I’m still reading and loving Ten Little Indians, I have this sudden urge to reading something by the guy. Anyone have any suggestions?

So Tell Me

What are you reading right now?

Me, I started Ten Little Indians, a gift from the wonderful angelic person that is Jenndiggity. And yes, I’m trying to pepper her up because she’s that awesome.

Anyway, a lot of people have several reasons why they become bibliophiles or bibliomanes and I’m probably no different. Although, my mother has her anecdote of her own for me, I do remember having a hard time reading when I was in middle school. Sure, I could read the books and it wasn’t because I couldn’t read, but the words just took so long to register in my brain that my reading skills were pretty much the same like they had been in elementary. That’s what started got me started, the fact that I had this breathy, hindered voice when reading. I would blush when I had to read for class, all those eyes upon me.

The story my mother tells is different, and possibly a lot better than mine. I started reading as a child out of pure jealousy. My brothers would read to me, my mother would read to me, my father….well, he just slept. But everyone around me was capable of reading and I wanted to do so as well. I was the sort of kid who longed to do whatever it was everyone else was doing because I wanted to prove I was capable of doing.

My mother taught me how to read and how to write and before school started, I didn’t go to Pre-K., I was already able to read and write - not to mention, able to add, subtract and multiply, but they have nothing to do with reading. I gave hell to the teacher who was typically angry with the fact that I was excelling without her guiding me. In fact, as the story goes, my mother got a phone call from her. The teacher said to remind me that I was the student and she was the teacher and not the other way around.  Apparently, and my memories sketchy, later on, the teacher, frustrated, decided to implement me within groups of students who weren’t grasping certain concepts.

What bugs me is, I don’t remember reading all that much.

So when it comes to reading now, I still have the problem with words registering in my mind that my voice still comes out breathy - however, it’s not as bad as it was all those years ago, in fact, it’s now more of a slip up.

So now I ask you my second question, when did you fall in love with books?

Off the topic

Help me. Now that I’ve finished Wonder Boys, I have no idea what I’m going to read, even though I started A Home at the End of the World. Oh well, I suppose I’ll see what happens.

[Edit:]

I actually just received a copy of Ten Little Indians by Sherman Alexie from Jenndiggity. Think I’m going to read that instead.

Wonder Boys

I never know what to write in a review, or in feedback, or in anything that has to do with books and my way of reading them. I don’t think this would have been the same experience had I not been emotionally tainted by the current events of my life. I think everyone should pick up a copy of the and hold off watching the movie if you haven’t done so.

Reading In South Texas

The problem with reading in South Texas is not a lot of people partake in it. This can be accredited to the fact that South Texas Writers often go ignored by the mainstream. Writers like David Rice and Rene Saldana, Jr. get accounted for by the fact that they primarily write youth fiction, but then again that’s not enough to keep up with the big dogs. And then there are writers we most likely never heard of: Jovita Gonzalez’s Dew on the Thorn wasn’t even on my radar until I took a class with Dr. Rob Johnson.

However, I suppose the writers of my generation are going to hinder that relationship with our apparent readers. During a creative writing course I took last year (two actually, considering that god’s gift to literature actually made it into the MFA CW program at UTPA [go figure!] and will probably go on and become forgotten afterward) a writer said that we write for the educated masses. I’m sorry to say, but I don’t write for simply the educated masses because I see writing as a revolution on page, not the elitist most of us have grown to become.

It was a piece we were evaluating that brought on the realization that most of these people and I weren’t on the same page. The piece in question was an overkill of imagery, and granted, we’re the educated who adore imagery, a reader from our location won’t like it and will fall disinterested in a heart beat. So I said that.

“The people who read these magazines,” said one student, “are educated people.”

Educated, being the insult, the whip on the back - let us tell the story of our people, but not allow our people to read it - the wound with the salt pouring upon it.

I’m not sure, but I began to believe that the whole course, including the professor, a person I have much adoration for, felt the same way. Suddenly the most liberal of things became perverted by conservative viewpoints - the uneducated are not allowed the same pleasures as the rest of us. It was all that I could to not just get out of the class and walk out, signing off on this writer’s dream forever. If I have to be like that, then I refuse to even pick up a pen again.

In order to solve the problem of reading on the border, the writers from the borderlands - la frontera - must learn that writing and story telling is a gift from us to those who long to remember our history.

Reading and Writing

I actually own three copies of Lolita, the shoes cover, the 50th anniversary cover and an early annotated edition which I salvaged from the library’s free book shelf. My guess, the latter was actually a copy owned by the late Dr. Lee Davinroy as many of her books made it on the shelves that year.

I keep a book in each room of the house where you’d find me the most - minus the bathroom for you crazies who are already heading in that direction. There’s a copy in my study usually, though all copies at this moment are in my bedroom because I can’t decide what should go where - a copy in my bedroom and a copy in the living room. I do this because Nabokov is possibly the most poetic writer on my shelf and his style is influential to me; however, I in no way try to mimic it.

This brings me to the question I’m trying to ask to the writers who stumble upon my blog. While I tend to read Nabokov’s Lolita while writing, I don’t let his style intrude in my work. However, there’s always the caveat that most writers warn others.

So when writing, do you read while doing so? If so, do you read the genre you’re writing, or do you travel into another one? And if not, then why?

With me, it all depends on the mood I’m in. So I do it, but most of the time, I’ll read something that isn’t in my genre solely because I tend to gravitate towards researching something I’d like to make reference to - not the style, but usually a person’s life.

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Now playing: JayMay - Sycamore Down
via FoxyTunes

Mi Vida en Libros

I’m almost at the end of Wonder Boys, which is taking a lot longer than I originally thought I’d take. Sadly, I’m not the best of readers that I used to be, because I took a less time reading it the first time than I am now.

The next book I’m looking at is House of Leaves, by Mark Z. Danielewski.  However, the first time I read that book, it took me a month to get through it, losing myself inside it and becoming a part of its world. Not sure if that has ever happened to you, but it happens to me with only a few number of books.

It’s either that book, or I’m picking put Lolita or Innocents next. Or even Memoirs of a Geisha, though I’ve been hearing a lot of pretty bad reviews of that book from the inner circle - well, the outer circle, considering my inner circle’s made up a few small people. I suppose, we’ll see, right?

Do, you readers, have any suggestions?  However, if you mention any religious books, be prepared for a public mocking by me and the Philosopher. Just a warning.

Overslept

I didn’t want to be pulled out of my dream. I can’t remember what I was dreaming, or if it was a good one or a bad one, but I do know I didn’t want for it to end when a close friend of mine, let’s call her The Professor, called me late this morning. She called to inform me that Blane - not his real name - had canceled on her. They were going out as friends later on, but something got in the way. I don’t want to give too many clues out here because this is the internet and it isn’t private or safe. Which is why I refuse to give out names. Anyway, the situation on Friday left her with smiles - I couldn’t tell, really, because it was a phone call and I didn’t see her face, but her voice sounded happier than ever. I suppose things happen for a reason, but what reason this is, I don’t know. I don’t have faith, nor do I believe in a destiny (well, not one that’s out of your hands), but some things just have to happen in order for you to grow and learn in this life. Why? I don’t know, go consult your beliefs.

After her phone call, which I didn’t answer because I was in the midst of a dream I can no longer recall, I buried my head beneath my pillow. As some of you remember, if you read my last blog, I have sleeping issues. I’ve had them for quite some time, but not as long as Briggie (read the comments section of that blog) has had them. By the way, just as a side not, I really love the advice dished out.

I have no religion. This is my personal choice because I was raised Catholic, and being Catholic, I wound up being depressed 50% of my childhood. I was going to hell for killing a mosquito, so said my CCD teacher. I also didn’t really like the fact that most of the mass, we seemed to glorifying - gorifying? - the death of Christ. The other 50% was spent ogling the Catholic girls. And would it make sense if I said that 10% of that 100% of depression and horn dogging in church, I was a blasphemer? However, what Briggie advised did make sense. Prayer or meditation, and…um…god(?) knows I am capable of both. Because I am agnostic and seeking a way of life that works for me, I have studied most of the religions that the media covers. However, I’m also interested in the ones that are unknown by the “civil” man. Meditation, couple with the Yoga stint, might actually be the best route for me to go. And it’s also, I’ve heard, relaxing.

Anyway, I was hoping that my typing this blog would jog my memory about my dream. Alas, that isn’t so. I’ll continue on about a guy who decided to get in an online fight with me late last night because of this video. I like Nirvana just as much as the next person, but Emilie Simon took the song and made it her own, something very few musicians can do when they cover a famous track by a famous band.

The feud, as I like to call it, started when I said that I can’t stand how people don’t believe that Kurt Cobain took that shot gun and blew his brains out. I love Nirvana. I’ve been a great fan, sadly, after the legendary singer had already offed himself. But there are the crazy people, people my age and younger, who are so into the zeitgeist of He was murdered, not suicidal that they are blinded by the evidence that is presented for them. Conspiracy theorists can’t be trusted. When has any of their hackney ideas been true? The person’s argument was fueled by the “evidence” presented on a “well-documented” website. While the evidence may be there, the truth of the matter is, Kurt Cobain had been depressed, a drug abuser, and suicide was the only way. The next you know, they’ll want to say Mary Hemingway was the reason Ernest Hemingway was killed–”Twas not suicide, twas murder!” However, I’m giving these guys too much credit. Most of them sit around never hearing of Hemingway because they have their heads too up in their asses to read a book, let alone actual literature. But here is a “well-documented” website that proves that Cobain’s lyrics were messages from the Devil, and that Kurt Cobain, amongst other great Rock legends, were spawns of Satan and little antichrists to spew the dark lords gospel. Excreta Divine! EnnuiPrayer’s debunked the Internet. I’m sure I’m going to get a lot of hate mail with this one from emo-aged kids who “get Kurt” and “I was there, man” morons who have to tangle with me. And let it be, but I just say, as Jesus Christ said, let the dead be dead and get on with your life. I predict in ten years, Heath Ledger will be murdered, rather than a simple explanation of death.

I guess that dream, whatever it was, isn’t meant to be remembered. But I leave you with this:

One believes that he may eat all things, but he who is weak eats vegetables–Romans 14:2

But the Spirit says expressly that in later times some will depart from the faith, giving heed to deceiving spirits and teachings of demons By means of hypocrisy of men who speak likes, of men who are branded in their own conscience as with a hot iron, Who forbid marriage and command abstaining from foods, which God has created to be partaken of with thanksgiving by those who believe and have full knowledge of the truth. For every creature of God is good, and nothing is to be rejected if receiving with thanksgiving. –1 Timothy 4:1-4

In other words, Christian Vegans and Vegetarians are an oxymoron, but I think Jesus says it best in the picture.

Of course you know, I just say in this jest. But anger will pursue me. Unless, you have a mind and a sense of humor.