A Wrinkle in Time: The Graphic Novel . . . it has pictures

I FINISHED A BOOK.

It only took me a month. And it was a graphic novel . . . adaptation . . . of a children's book.

Moving on.

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.

Total. Dreamboat.

Exactly 1 year ago today . . .

. . . I wrote my VERY FIRST blog post.

In honor of this momentous day, I present to you "Timeline of a Book Blog on the Occasion of Its 1st Birthday." [Suggested musical pairing: Shania Twain's "You're Still the One"]

November 1*—Stumbled (drunkenly? Probably.) into a Goodreads discussion about To Kill a Mockingbird (Someone actually asked if she should read it or if it "sucked." I KNOW. I can't even.)

November 1—Sought out and started reading Amanda's blog because of HI-larious things she said in above-mentioned Goodreads discussion

November 15—Started reading Alice's blog because Amanda exhorted her followers to do so (Sheeeeeep. Every one of us.)

November 23—Stopped lurking in the broom closet of Alice's blog and actually left a comment, setting in motion what would become a yearlong (and counting, to infinity) relationship

Mutual Hatred of Twilight: Bringing people together since 2006

November 25—Caved to Alice's peer pressure and started my own blog (pretty much immediately . . . I put up no resistance at all)

November 25 to Present—Met (YES you can MEET people on the Internet. Shut up.) an incredible mix of lady-bloggers who officially make up the largest group of female friends I've ever had at one time (AND I LOVE YOU ALL)

Charter members: Alice, Laura, Alley, Rayna, 
Kayleigh, Tika, Julie, Amanda, and Nahree

*Most of these dates are toooootally not right. But let's pretend together.

Side Effects of Writing About Books on the Internet:

• Reading more intentionally
• Reading outside my comfort zone
• Just READING more
• Knowing what books are floating around out there, in a general sort of way
• Becoming a bookseller (really, I don't think I would have gotten the job without this blog)
• Going to more book-related things in The Outside World
• Making friends I never would have met any other way (see above)
• Writing down random thoughts that would otherwise just bounce around behind my eyes, causing headaches and light bruising to my frontal lobe

And all because of a silly little book blog.

Reading Rut, I am in you.

I've been having that unsettled feeling particular to blogging—that feeling you get when more than a week has gone by between updates. Let's call it SELF-INFLICTED INNER TURMOIL. Because it is both of those things.

But I can't finish a book right now to save my life. And if I haven't finished a book, what can I possibly say that won't be about Doctor Who or, more specifically, how everyone should find Matt Smith as attractive as I do?

Or THIS, which I could write a POEM about.

I'm in the exact middle of three books right now, and none of them are hitting the spot. So let's talk about THAT.

I was really enjoying this when I started it . . . back in, oh man . . . in September. This rut is even worse than I thought. OK, well, I was ENJOYING it. But then I started the Grapes of Wrath readalong and tucked this away and really didn't care if I ever picked it up again. And there I remain on the subject of the Chicago World's Fair and this particular killer of women whose name I can't even remember because it's been THAT long since I picked up this book.



I haven't read ANY D. Eggs. So I bought this one, because it was $3 and the cover is kind of gorgeous. And there end my reasons for acquiring this book. I had no idea what it was about. I still don't, really. But I WILL tell you this: I was eating things while reading the first 50 pages, and I wouldn't recommend that. A little friendly advice from me to you.




I was kind of hoping that, in translating this into a graphic novel, Hope Larson would ALSO elevate the maturity level. I assumed that the people who would most want to read a graphic novel version of a beloved childhood classic would be the people who were the target audience for the original and are now all grown up and stuff. And, yeah, we like to relive old favorites just as they are, but if you're going to reinterpret something, shouldn't you reinterpret it? This version is still VERY much for children, which kind of just makes it A Wrinkle in Time: Now With Pretty Pictures.


What I'm trying to say here is that all three of these books are perfectly acceptable and maybe even really great . . . but they aren't doing it for me RIGHT NOW.

And for that, they must pay.

It blows my mind how many activities we can do.

The month of October was not a great blogging month for me, but . . . I've been moving.

NOT DRAMATIC ENOUGH.

Now that I'm sort of settled, I can get back to the business of writing things about books. And I should probably also do some editing? You know, if I have time.

But before I do ANY of that, let's have some pictures of the new place, yeah?

Walkway between the two buildings, one of which may or may not
house Joseph Gordon-Levitt. Or I could just be making that up. You don't know.

The view from the courtyard. I can gaze at the
Hollywood Freeway while the dogs take a poo. Eeeeexcellent.

This side is the "Gaming/Movie Zone for Boys and the Occasional Girl."

And I camp out over there in the "Book Zone for Awesome People Only."

It's the COZIEST.

And there's so much room for activities!

I think we're done here. Off you go.

Grapes of Wrath Week 4: Almost certainly not worth the wait

I'm so embarrassingly behind that I ALMOST didn't even try to write this final post . . . but then a grown man suckled at a teenage girl's bosom. So . . . yeah.

I know some people have been concerned about how women are portrayed in this book, but . . . I'm more inclined to believe that the men get the short end of the gender-role stick in this one. The men are kind of powerless in this economic environment. They aren't even the sole providers anymore, now that women and children are taking to the fields to help bring in the pennies. And, at least in the Joad family, Ma is quite publicly running the show.

"'You get your stick, Pa,' she said. 'Times when they's food an' a place to set, then maybe you can use your stick an' keep your skin whole. But you ain't a-doin' your job, either a-thinkin' or a-workin'.'" (p. 388)

I would prefer that use of a stick not be acceptable in ANY situation, but we'll take what we can get here.

What Pa DOES get to do is say all the things I'm thinking.

"Uncle John shook his head over his plate. 'Don't look like we're a-gonna get shet of this here. I bet it's my sin.'
'Oh, shut up!' Pa cried. 'We ain't got time for your sin now.'" (p. 433)

"Ma said softly, 'Pa, I got to talk to you. Ruthie tol' some kids how Tom's a-hidin'.
'What?'
'She tol'. Got in a fight an' tol'.'
'Why, the little bitch!'" (p. 456)

God bless you, Pa.

On a more serious note (because the REST of GoW is such a hoot), I kind of think Tom drowned? Because he was living in a bush . . . and then there was a lot of rain. Someone should probably look into that.

ALSO:

"Tom looked over at the wide-eyed children. They seldom blinked their eyes. It was as though they were afraid something might happen in the split second of darkness." (p. 441)

AND THEY WERE RIGHT.

OK . . . so the breast feeding. I GET what Steinbeck is going for here. Desperate times, desperate measures. People have to help each other. And it's kind of nice that Rose of Sharon gets a chance to redeem herself for being generally the most selfish person ever for the vast portion of this book.

But when I read this:

"Her fingers moved gently in his hair. She looked up and across the barn, and her lips came together and smiled mysteriously" (p. 502)

all I can pictures is this:

Grapes of Wrath Week 3: Bullet points are for AWESOME people

**DISCLAIMER: This post contains spoilers and more GIFs than words.**

THINGS are happening. TOO MANY things. So I'm busting out the emergency bullet points.

• Hungry children watch Ma cook stew . . . and then make the Joads reallllllly uncomfortable while they're trying to eat.

• Casy gets taken to jail after kicking a deputy in the THROAT.
• Connie gets to California and promptly runs away after realizing he won't be able to own an ice box.

• Uncle John is the MOODIEST.
• The Joads settle in at a government camp (aka UTOPIA) and set themselves up for more heartbreak I'M SURE.
• THERE'S A CHARACTER NAMED WILKIE.
• Ruthie and Winfield have an adorable sibling moment involving a newfangled toilet contraption.

Grapes of Wrath Week 2: It's not Tuesday?

**DISCLAIMER: Readalong post, spoilers . . . you know the drill.**

Since I'm still not QUITE finished with this week's reading and it is, in fact, Wednesday right now, I'm a'gonna blurt out some thoughts so I can do what I really want to do, which is read what everyone else wrote look at everyone's GIFs.

Chapter 12: Someone (I think Laura?) said something smart about the book being full of biblical references, and here one is!

"66 is the path of a people in flight, refugees from dust and shrinking land, from the thunder of tractors and shrinking ownership, from the desert's slow northward invasion, from the twisting winds that howl up out of Texas, from the floods that bring no richness to the land and steal what little richness is there." (p. 128)

Correct me if I'm wrong, but this is most probably an "exodus from Egypt" comparison. And THEN there's that whole tedious paragraph about all the cities 66 runs through, and that reminded me of biblical genealogies (this guy begat this guy who begat that guy).

Chapter 13: There are ladyfolk sitting in the front seat now. I don't understand why that's suddenly allowed, but I'll TAKE it. Also, Steinbeck killed a dog and Grampa in the same chapter, but neither of those things hit me as hard as this:

"On her mattress, away from the fire, Granma whimpered softly like a puppy. The heads of all turned in her direction.

Ma said, 'Rosasharn, like a good girl go lay down with Granma. She needs somebody now. She's knowin', now.'

Rose of Sharon got to her feet and walked to the mattress and lay beside the old woman, and the murmur of their soft voices drifted to the fire. Rose of Sharon and Granma whispered together on the mattress." (p. 159)

Chapter 14: "For the quality of owning freezes you forever into 'I,' and cuts you off forever from the 'we'" (p. 166). Careful, Steinbeck. Your Communist is showing.

Chapter 15: "Mae really smiles with all her might at truck drivers. She bridles a little, fixes her back hair so that her breasts will lift with her raised arms, passes the time of day and indicates great things, great times, great jokes" (p. 167). You lost me at "back hair."

Chapter 16: Someone mentions splitting up the group, and Ma brandishes a jack handle and sasses the men into submission. You NEVER split the party, and you never mess with a woman wielding a metal rod. Some truths are universal.

Chapters 17 and 18