Sunday, December 30, 2012
This is a hard one for me to write about just now, due to personal things in my personal life. I should also note that my copy of the book is at the bottom of a box right now, so I shan't be providing you any excerpts. But you don't need details anyway. In fact, a hex on details . . . because the less you know the better with this one.
But let's first address the depressed elephant in the room---sans details, of course. Some of you may have noticed that I've been sad on Twitter lately, which is the equivalent of standing in a crowd of cheerful, clever people and sighing dramatically until someone offers you a cookie and politely asks you to run along and refill the chip bowl. So I'm sorry about all that dramatic sighing. Also, I can't promise there won't be more. Also, we're out of barbecue chips.
But about Gone Girl. As I'm sure you've gathered, it's a cheerful romp through the wondrous institution of marriage. In a nutshell.
So Nick and Amy are the marrieds, and they've been having run-of-the-mill married-people trouble following a few unpleasant life changes (i.e., losing their jobs, moving from a big city to a small town, dealing with illness and death in the family, and so on and so forth). But then Amy goes MISSING. And an ottoman has been overturned, suggesting FOUL PLAY.
But that's clearly not the end of the story. And said story unfolds within a narrative that switches back and forth between Nick's and Amy's perspectives, showing just how very little two people can know about each other when they think they know everything about each other. It's every bit as delicious as everyone says . . . even though I can't look at the cover without sighing dramatically.
Is it next year yet?
Monday, December 10, 2012
I FINISHED A BOOK.
It only took me a month. And it was a graphic novel . . . adaptation . . . of a children's book.
A Wrinkle in Time seems to have played a prominent role in my generation's collective childhood. I, personally, was convinced that I WAS Meg Murray. I had mousy brownish/blondish hair. I wore glasses (more accurately, I was prescribed glasses that my mom purchased and that I promptly stored in a junk drawer). I was grievously misunderstood by my peers. MY NAME WAS MEG.
In short, this book resonated with me when I was an overachieving member of the school orchestra whose favorite clothing item was a Mr. Bubble T-shirt and whose go-to hairstyle was Princess Leia buns. (WHY wasn't I more popular in middle school?)
But NOW? If this graphic novel adaptation is any indication of how my grown-up self connects with A Wrinkle in Time . . . not so much. And that's a giant bummer.
I already sort of talked about how I was disappointed that this adaptation wasn't designed to appeal to a more mature audience. That's not really a thing. I mean, it's a thing, but it's not a thing. Because I can definitely see what Hope Larson was going for by keeping the adaptation of a kids' classic in the realm of . . . well, kids.
No, my REAL problem with this is that I kiiiind of hated Meg.
|WOMAN I WILL SMACK YOU.|
Could this whiny, stubborn, impatient, childish girl really have been one of my most prominent literary role models? I know a lot of her faults were part of the character and part of the story---the overarching message being, "Embrace your faults because they are what make you a special snowflake who will one day save the world."
But Adult Me is not buying that malarkey. And maybe that's because I know Things about The World now.
|Thanks a LOT, World. You jerk.|
Something that DID remain exactly as I remembered? Calvin O'Keefe.