Okay, I’ve had this entry window up and blank for about half an hour now. As I was reading this, I didn’t have the wherewithal to actually mark quotes like I usually do, and also, I don’t want to give away any major plot points. Hm. So really, I don’t know how to talk about this.
How about this: Is the movie out yet? How about now? What about now? Is it now yet?
All seriousness: this series is marketed in the Young Adult section, but (as my roommate and I were saying last night), it ain’t our Young Adult series. The YA stuff we had to choose from when we were kids? Goosebumps by R.L. Stine and Nancy Drew. The ‘chapter book’ that would push us up to adult books, because adult books had more interesting things, like sex and violence. (Look, I have distinct memories of me, taking the eighth grade Maine Educational Assessment tests, finishing the section before the end of the period, and taking out my dad’s old Agatha Christie compendium and finishing reading “And Then There Were None,” and in the next period, when I again finished that section of testing early, taking out The Pelican Brief and beginning to read that. I was fourteen. I also aced the reading comprehension section.)
This YA series takes place in an indeterminate time after society as we know it has collapsed. What was (slightly) interesting to me was that my NaNoWriMo project this year [16,000 words and counting!] also involved society as we know it collapsing, but not to the degree experienced by the narrator, Katniss Everdeen. Katniss is seventeen and the one responsible for her family: her widowed mother, and her younger sister, Prim. Katniss lives in District 12 of Panem, which is the new North America. Panem is divided into 12 Districts, and all are ruled by the Capitol, who strictly regulates what everyone is allowed to do. Not quite Big Brother, but scary nonetheless.
Because what the Capitol does to keep all the districts in line is The Hunger Games, where each District sends two tributes — a boy and a girl, aged between 12 and 18, determined by a hellish lottery — to fight to Last Man Standing in an arena. The Games are also broadcast to all the districts in the highest-rated reality show ever, so the Districts get to see in all the gory, glorious detail how their children die. In this year (the 74th Hunger Games), Prim’s name is drawn to represent District 12. Katniss immediately volunteers to take her place, keeping her sister at home with her mother. So Katniss travels to the Capitol with her other tribute, Peeta Mellark, and together they enter the Games.
The good news for Katniss is that she is an exceptional archer, so with a bow and arrow in her hands, she is able to survive. Of course, getting the bow and arrow is something else.
The Hunger Games is also a love story, of sorts. I say “of sorts” because Peeta appears to be in love with Katniss, but as she’s our narrator and she’s extremely cynical, she believes it to be a ruse in order to help Peeta garner sympathy from the audience and potential sponsors. It’s weird that, two days before beginning to read Hunger Games, I rewatched Breakfast at Tiffany’s, and while Holly Golightly wouldn’t last past the training portion of the Games, she’d give Katniss a run for her money in the Women Oblivious to the Men Who Loves Them category.
As much I talked about trying to remain unspoiled as much as possible back when I reviewed The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, I will admit that while I didn’t read ahead, I did seek out the resolution of the first book on Wikipedia. Look, I honestly wasn’t sure if The Hunger Games contained the whole Games, or if the deadly arena fight-to-the-death continued through the other two books. And more importantly, I liked Peeta! I wanted to make sure he lived, too!
[SPOILER ALERT: The Hunger Games covers the Games to the end, and also, Peeta lives! Yay!]
To get back to the “Young Adult” series thing: Yes, I tagged this as “genre: young adult,” but that’s only because I couldn’t think of any other genre to put it in — it’s too rich, almost, for what I consider to be YA. But then I think, just because my YA series growing up wasn’t like this, doesn’t mean it should be denegrated to the genre and then dismissed.
Okay, actually, I could go in a dozen different tangents here, but rather than talk about the whole YA publishing category and the crap I’ve seen going on behind the scenes with that (if you’re curious, here’s a great article from New York Magazine, published in the wake of a big frouferah about the YA genre being evil, as seen in the Wall Street Journal). So instead, I’m going to say this, as a reader, and as a promoter of reading: don’t limit yourself to genres. Not picking up a book because it’s in the “Young Adult” section is just stupid. Twilight aside, there are some awesome books being put out under that genre, and while I haven’t read a lot of them, some of the titles continue to grab my attention as a scroll past in the monthly Goodreads newsletter.
And so, I’ll leave you with the words of my father, spoken to me sometime in my high school years:
“Alaina, you’ve got to broaden your horizons. You can’t keep reading the same books over and over. Here, read this.”
“The Hobbit? Dad, I’m not sure this is in English.”
In 2010, I read 34 books. I read the same amount in 2011. The heck? Why can’t I read more? Stupid being an adult with stupid responsibilities.
Anyway. For those interested (and looking for a handy-dandy reference [or possibly I'm just completely too anal-retentive for words]), here’s the complete listing of What She Read in 2011. An asterisk (*) marks the ones I’d never read before.
Oh, my god, you guys. You GUYS. I’m FINALLY DONE with these stupid vampires.
I don’t even know where to begin with this. I have five-and-a-half pages of quotes from this book in a Word document. If I had thought about it ahead of time, I would have taken a picture of the book with all its little Post-It Flags throughout. Way more than New Moon did.
I guess I’ll start with the plot. It begins with Bella and Edward engaged, about a week before the wedding. Now, I’ve read a lot of books and watched a lot of movies, and let me say that I was totally expecting the wedding to result in a horrible, awful bloodbath, sent down by the Volturi, or maybe that kid from Bella’s high school who loves her, or maybe Edward would end up in a panic and just frickin’ shave his head like Marshall did on How I Met Your Mother, but as I think that I realize that would be ridiculous, because according to this “canon,” everything about a vampire is strong, which means he would break the razor on his head, and then that makes me think about Pauley D from Jersey Shore, I mean have you seen that hair? That hair is immune to nuclear bombs.
That is how my mind works, ladies and gentlemen. (You’re scared now, aren’t ya?)
Okay, so anyway, I was expecting the Battle of the Bride or something at the wedding. But it went off without a hitch. Seriously? No cold feet? No explosions of fire that aren’t fireworks? Nothing? I would be disappointed, but then I remember that I’m reading a Twilight book, and I stop being disappointed and start being awesome instead.
[Note to self: stop watching so much How I Met Your Mother.]
So Bella and Edward go on their honeymoon, which is on their own private island (well, Carlisle’s own private island) off the coast of Brazil. And there they have sex once (FINALLY, but oh it is the vaguest of vagues. It’s all “we went to bed and FADE TO BLACK and then I woke up and it was AWESOME” but NO ONE GOT TO SEE ANYTHING. And folks, there are TWO REASONS I read romance novels occasionally, and those reasons are “They’re Cheesy” and “And so is the sex descriptions.” BUT AT LEAST WE GET TO READ ABOUT QUIVERING MEMBERS), and because apparently there are bruises all over Bella’s body from teh sexing, Edward actually takes a stand with Oprah and says LOVE SHOULDN’T HURT and refuses to have sex with Bella anymore. Until she seduces him, because apparently, our little Bella, she likes it rough. (Who knew? She’s so whiny all the time, I didn’t expect that.) So they have sex like, one more time, and all of a sudden SHE’S PREGNANT.
And — how — I doo—
IF VAMPIRES ARE SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD, AND THE “VENOM” IN THIS CANON “FREEZES EVERYTHING INTO PERFECTION” or whatever, then HOW THE FUCK IS EDWARD’S SPERM MOTILE?
*sigh*
So ANYWAY, Edward wants to bring Bella home to Carlisle immediately to perform an awkward vampire abortion, but no she wants it she needs it her preciousssss and she uses Rosalie, previously known as The Bitch of the Cullen family, to her advantage: Rosalie only wanted BABBIEEEES, and now she has a chance to have a BABBIEEEEE in the family, and Bella wants to keep her precious little fetus that, oh right, is also killing her slowly.
At this point, the narrative switches from Bella’s whiny emo tones to Jacob’s funny, sarcastic side. Which doesn’t really serve a purpose other than: we don’t have to hear Bella’s thoughts while the baby kills her from the inside, we only see what Bella goes through. In such awful, horrific detail, but then I saw the movie and was saddened that there wasn’t more blood.
So the baby gets born, and it wasn’t the son that Bella was hoping for, but instead a girl, and she picks the STUPIDEST NAME ON THE FACE OF THE EARTH: Renesmee, a mash-up of Renee and Esme, her and Edward’s ‘mother’, respectively. Also, the middle name is a mash-up of Carlisle and Charlie, or, Carlie. Dear god, when did Bella hit her head on something hard?
So THEN, Edward turns Bella into a vampire, and I’m like, FINALLY, but it turns out that Bella is not only a vampire, but only the bestest vampire in the history of vampiring. Apparently the vampires are supposed to go through a one year “newborn” phase, where everything is BLOOOOOOOOD and there is no logic, only thirst, but Bella wakes up and she’s like, “Where’s my baby I want my baby and also why am I in this beautiful dress ALICE oh hey honey, let’s have sex now, you couldn’t possibly break me in two.”
Oh, and did I mention that Jacob imprints on the baby? Meaning that, at some point when Renesmee is no longer a baby but a full grown person (because she’s half-human, half-immortal, I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS), Jacob and Renesmee are going to be a couple.
HA HA HA HA HA oh Jesus make it stop.
Then there’s this other coven, the Denali clan or whatever, and one of them sees Renesmee prancing about and immediately assumes that the Cullens have created a vampire baby, so she runs to the Volturi to tattle. But while Renesmee is a baby of vampires, she is not a human baby that was turned into a vampire, so the Cullens should be safe from the Evol Volturi. But they have to gather other vampires to act as witnesses, and since Renesmee is growing at, like, creepy speed (her first words after a week, reading poetry after a month, like, WTF), the other vampires can see proof that she is a different thing than a vampire baby, so they should hopefully be safe. And Renesmee also has a power: she can touch someone and show them her thoughts, which is how she shows everyone her grisly birth.
Charming.
And that’s totally where I lost interest. Seriously, it’s five hundred pages of Bella and Edward having sex then not having sex then being pregnant then Jacob turning into his own One Man Wolf Pack, then Bella giving birth and becoming the bestest vampire ever and then more sex between Bella and Edward and then … a month of visiting vampires, new talents, and talking, oh dear god so much talking.
And when the Volturi arrive, there isn’t even a fight. Lame.
Anyway. Everyone lives, nobody (that anyone would care about) dies*, and everyone lives happily ever after. The end. Thank fucking God.
*Except Irina. Poor Irina, the scapegoat. And what really makes that funny for me is that, in the movies, Irina is played by Maggie Grace, the girl who played Shannon Rutherford on Lost, which is also the sister of BOOOOOONE!, played by my favorite Ian Somerhalder, who now plays the ultimate character Damon Salvatore in that superior television program The Vampire Diaries. But really, I’m almost looking forward to Breaking Dawn II so I can see Shannon die again.
So here’s the part where I show you some quotes. I have to say that the majority of Post It’s were for the category I created called, “Edward is perfect and I am awful.” Because even as a vampire, Bella has problems with self-esteem.
This quote is, like, on page three. I distinctly remember uttering, “Good Lord,” and then restraining the urge to throw the 754-page book across the room.
… I just couldn’t reconcile a staid, respectable, dull concept like husband with my concept of Edward. It was like casting an archangel as an accountant… [6]
Let’s see, what else made me roll my eyes?
The rush was due to the fact that I was getting closed to nineteen every stinking day, while Edward stayed frozen in all his seventeen-year-old perfection, as he had for over ninety years. [16]
Sometimes it was so easy to forget that I was kissing a vampire. Not because he seemed ordinary or human – I could never for a second forget that I was holding someone more angel than man in my arms … [23]
Here, Bella forgets the Number One Rule of Weddings: No One Looks At the Groom Except the Bride:
I stared at the long counter, covered in all the paraphernalia of a beauty salon, and began to feel my sleepless night.
“Is this really necessary? I’m going to look plain next to him no matter what.” [44]
Even after she becomes a vampire, Edward is still Perfect and She is Still Awful:
The greater part of my senses and my mind were still focused on Edward’s face.
I had never seen it before this second.
How many times had I stared at Edward and marveled over his beauty? How many hours – days, weeks – of my life had I spent dreaming about what I then deemed to be perfection? I thought I’d known his face better than my own. I’d thought this was the one sure physical thing in my whole world: the flawlessness of Edward’s face.
I may as well have been blind. [390]
I could not answer immediately, lost as I was in the velvet folds of his voice. It was the most perfect symphony, a symphony in one instrument, an instrument more profound than any created by man … [391]
NO. NO NO NO. That cannot happen. There is NOTHING more beautiful than the Pastoral Symphony. Except maybe the Sleeping Beauty ballet. But COME ON. Robert Pattinson’s voice is AWFUL.
Some other categories of choice: Bella is Dumb, and also, Jacob Speaks the Truth:
“So why hasn’t Carlisle done anything?” I growled. “He’s a doctor, right? Get it out of her.”
He looked up then and answered me in a tired voice. Like he was explaining this to a kindergartener for the tenth time. “She won’t let us.”
It took a minute for the words to sink in. Jeez, she was running true to form. Of course, die for the monster spawn. It was so Bella. [177]
Even more examples of Jacob Speaking Truth (which is why Jacob’s my favorite, if I can have a favorite in this hell):
“I thought the whole point was that you wanted your vampire more than anything. And now you’re just giving him up? That doesn’t make any sense. Since when are you desperate to be a mom? If you wanted that so much, why did you marry a vampire?” [193]
“Why do you always have to love the wrong things, Bella?” [197]
And one rare instance where Bella Speaks the Truth:
I’d never done anything good enough to deserve a friend like Jacob. [60]
Now, let’s just take a moment and recognize that some things can be learned over time:
Behind the light, I could distinguish the individual grains in the dark wood ceiling above. In front of it, I could see the dust motes in the air … [387]
I DID NOT CHANGE THAT, that is an ACTUAL quote! YAY!
Renesmee, meanwhile, is a creepy little fucker:
“Renesmee is healthy and well,” he promised, a gleam I’d never seen before in his eyes. He said her name with an understated fervor. A reverence. The way devout people talked about their gods. [396]
See, and Bella’s not being ironic or creeped out about this. Devout people talking about their gods is not a creepy thing for her.
There’s also a category for “Seriously?! You guys are just messing with me now, right?”
“But he’s a smart, practical man. She thinks he’ll come up with his own explanation. She assumes he’ll get it wrong.” Edward snorted. “After all, we hardly adhere to vampire canon.” [301]
Vampire canon?! You guys acknowledge that there is a vampire canon?! Amazing!
And speaking of amazing,
“What an amazing creature she is,” Edward murmured, almost in agreement, as if Jacob’s comment was meant as a compliment. He was both dazzling and dazzled. [523]
Edward’s jaw clenched and unclenched, then he answered evenly, “They aren’t even werewolves. Aro can tell you all about it if you don’t believe me.”
Not werewolves? I shot a mystified look at Jacob. He lifted his huge shoulders and let them drop — a shrug. He didn’t know what Edward was talking about, either. [704]
No, really: you guys are messing with me, right?
I read the emotions as they scrolled across [Charlie's] face.
Shock. Disbelief. Pain. Loss. Fear. Anger. Suspicion. More pain.
I bit my lip. It felt funny. [506]
COME ON. ALL KRISTEN STEWART CAN DO IS BITE HER LIP. ARE YOU KIDDING ME.
And now, my favorite parts: The Crazy Random Happenstance References, which only make sense to me.
Here’s this one, from Jacob’s perspective (note: the italics are the voices of the members of his wolf-pack he can hear in his head. No, don’t ask):
They all saw the horror – Bella’s mottled stomach; her raspy voice: he’s strong, that’s all; the burning man in Edward’s face: watching her sicken and waste away … seeing it hurting her; Rosalie crouched over Bella’s limp body: Bella’s life means nothing to her–and for once, no one had anything to say.
Their shock was just a silent shout in my head. Wordless.
!!!! [198]
See, in one of my favorite short-lived series, The Middleman, the Middleman and his apprentice Wendy Watson face an evil killer that is making something called !!!!, which is an energy drink that, when drunk, turns people into zombie trout. Again, don’t ask, but this made me laugh, at least.
This did notmake me laugh; instead, it made me cry for the withdrawal I am currently undergoing:
The dark one grinned when I came into view. “Well, well, Carlisle. You have been naughty, haven’t you?”
“She’s not what you think, Stefan.” [627]
STEFAN! WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THE CULLENS? AND WHERE THE FUCK IS YOUR BROTHER AND WHY ISN’T HE SHIRTLESS (Vampire Diaries comes back in one week holy shit I can’t fucking wait)
Here’s the quote:
Caius stood alone beside the blazing remains of Irina, the metal object in his hand still throwing a thick jet of flame into the pyre.
With a small clicking sound, the fire shooting from Caius’s hand disappeared. [708]
And here’s the reference:
And then “The Final Countdown” runs through my head and I have to run away laughing.
The final reference (da duh daa daaaa! da duh da da daaaaaa!) is actually a conversation my friends and I almost had one fateful New Year’s Eve night:
“So there are real werewolves?” I asked. “With the full moon and silver bullets and all that?”
Jacob snorted. “Real. Does that make me imaginary?” [745]
And I can’t remember where I’ve mentioned this instance before, but we were all talking about zombies versus vampires, and Jen at one point said “Oh, you’re talking about Resident Evil zombies, not real zombies.” And Emily whirls on her and says, “REAL zombies!? Did you just say REAL zombies?!”
Finally-finally, as if Stephenie Meyer knewI’d need something happy to take away from all of this, she leaves me with this quote: [Context: Bella has found that she can draw her shield or whatever into herself so Edward is finally able to hear her thoughts, or, whatever]:
“I can’t keep it up if I’m even the slightest bit distracted,” I warned him. [754]
Hey, look! Two books in less than 48 hours! It’s a Saturnalia miracle!
(Incidentally, a real Saturnalia miracle would involve me finishing two books between now and 11:59 on New Year’s Eve, I’ll have actually increased the amount of books I’ve read year over year for the first time since I’ve started this blog. Everybody cross your fingers!)
I picked up The Maltese Falcon for two reasons: 1) I needed a ‘lunch break book,’ because (as I said in the entry for Retail Hell) there was no way in hell I was going to be caught reading Breaking Dawn by Brad and John and everyone else I work with. And 2), I was/am trying to write a novel with a distinct pulp fiction tone, and hey, why not one of the classics?
Now, at the risk of gaining more hell from friends and coworkers, I’m going to begin by saying that I’ve never seen the Bogart film of the same name. Although, knowing Brad and John, they could care less about me not seeing a classic film starring one of the best on-screen detectives of all time. But mention that I’ve never watched Pulp Fiction and let the skies fall down upon me in shame. So anyway, I cannot compare the book to the movie. I can, however, compare Sam Spade to that other embodiment of 1940s-era detectivery, Philip Marlowe from The Big Sleep.
The trouble begins when a Miss Wonderly walks into the office of Spade & Archer in San Francisco, and asks them to tail a man that she’s hanging around. Before the night is over, Archer’s dead, as is the man he was supposed to tail. Another 12 hours passes, and he learns that Miss Wonderly is actually a Brigid O’Shaughnessy, and she’s wrapped up in something more sinister than just being scared for her life.
Turns out, she’s a player in a gang of people playing one against the other, looking for something called the Maltese Falcon. It’s this extremely rare statuette that was originally used as payment to some king or something (look, it’s taken me about 24 lunch breaks and twenty minutes, a nap, and then another four minutes to read this damn thing, I’m not going back and looking shit up, okay?), and it’s gold-plated and practically bedazzled in jewels. So O’Shaughnessy, a “Leviathan” named Joe Cairo, and a man with overtones of Jabba the Hut(*) are all looking for this thing. And they rope Sam Spade into looking for it too.
(* — I’d like to remind the readers that I’ve never seen Star Wars in one sitting, or in chronological order. But I know who Jabba the Hut is. In short [hee!], shut up, Brad.)
Here’s the difference between Spade and Marlowe: Marlowe wears his moral code on his sleeve, and doesn’t compromise his morals for a job. Spade plays everyone against each other and just tries to stay ahead of the game and end up on top. Even after finishing the book today, I’m not sure if he would sacrifice his morals for his “relationship” with O’Shaughnessy, or if he would run away with her and the falcon. But I know that, if Marlowe were in the same situation, he’d remain aloof of Brigid and maintain his code of honor throughout the case.
In the end, I enjoyed this title, and I will look for The Maltese Falcon on TCM (I have too many movies on my Netflix queue — including the entire Star Wars series, coming as soon as True Blood is over, I promise!), and I may pick up more Hammett titles. But I know for a fact I will read a Philip Marlowe novel first.
Okay, so, I know I said the next book I was going to finish would be Breaking Dawn, but guys — I tried, okay? I mean, I saw the movie, and then got through the Part I Movie portion of the book, but dudes, Part II? Is fucking boring.
And I couldn’t exactly bring Breaking Dawn to work to read on my lunch break, because look, if Brad and John are teasing me for never seeing Pulp Fiction and Fargo and Caddyshack, can you imagine the ration I’d get if they caught me reading about sparkling vampires? So that caused me to pick up The Maltese Falcon, but that got boring too, and more importantly, work became … let’s use the term “crazy” to stand for so much more than I can get into in this space, and I needed to know that I wasn’t the only one feeling these feelings.
Enter a book I had purchased on a whim over two years ago, which (of course) was currently holding up one of the piles of books on top of another pile of books in a bookcase. Thankfully, no piles collapsed during the reading of this title: Retail Hell, by Freeman Hall.
Dear Freeman: You and I are kindred spirits. If you ever visit Maine, I would love to buy you a margarita.
Freeman’s memoir (of sorts) is about his time at The Big Fancy, a high-class department store in Burbank known for its superior customer service. (Hm, where have I heard that phrase before?) He is the first male salesman in the Handbag department, and he still believes that the only reason he was hired for Handbags is because he’s gay (and there are no openings in the Menswear section). He bonds quickly with three women — Cammie, Marci and Jules — and also has to deal with the three Sales Demons, one of whom he tenderly refers to as ‘Douche,’ mainly because she steals sales out from under his nose.
The book is a series of scenes from his life as a handbag salesman, and in those scenes we meet a variety of characters, including the Shoposaurus Carnotaurus (a heavy spender who devours everything in sight, but ends up being extremely loyal to her salesperson), the Picky Bitch, and the Nasty-Ass Thief.
The Nasty-Ass Thief is actually a character I’m quite familiar with. Being someone who is currently mid-level management in a local-yet-internationally-known retailer with a history of superior customer service and a stellar return policy, we see Nasty-Ass Thieves all the time. [Note: they are certainly not Nasty Ass-Thieves.] We may not get people trying to return extremely expensive handbags, but I’ve authorized many a return without a receipt that puts over $500 on a gift card. And of course, they always try to get cash back first:
A woman wearing a dirty Mickey Mouse sweatshirt appears at the counter with a $3,000 Marc Jacobs handbag stuffed into a plastic grocery bag. She wants to return it and get her cash back. [vii-viii]
Then there’s this quote about the type of people Freeman experienced as being shoplifters:
Like handbags, Nasty-Ass Thieves come in all shapes, sizes, and colors. There are men, women, teenagers, children, white, Black, Asian, Latino, Russian, Middle Eastern, European, and yes, even Alien. They are fat, skinny, young, old, gay, straight, ritzy, trashy, pretty, ugly, poor, and yes, even Warren Buffet rich. [123]
This line made me think of our old shoplifting video we used to show in orientation, which would make me giggle every damn time. I can’t find the transcript I made of it (and thankfully, it wasn’t unique to our business), but essentially, the narrator said something like everybody steals but then only singled out teenagers, drug addicts, and rich people. But the best was the final line: “Old people steal lots of things!” That last one is a direct quote — there is nothing that could make me forget that line.
There are also the — *shudder* — evil Sale Monsters. We will be dealing with that at my place of business in a little over a week, and I am already sick to my stomach thinking about it. There’s the idiots who can’t read:
I then spent ten minutes explaining to a woman that 25% off an original price does not mean an additional 25% off. The women kept arguing saying “But that would mean it’s an additional 25% off!” Finally I went all Sale Hell Bitch on her: “Does it say ‘additional’ on the sign? NO! They are NOT an additional percentage off. THEY ARE 25 PERCENT OFF ORIGINAL! THAT’S IT!”
Then, for the millionth time, a woman came up to me and asked, “Why isn’t everything on sale?”
I bitched back at her, “Because life isn’t fair.” [197]
And then there are the vindictive bitches who must have it i wants it i needs itwhen they could live without it five minutes ago, but that’s since changed since someone else wants it now:
From experience, I knew what was going to happen next. You see, whenever there is only one left of something on sale, and two women suddenly start eyeing it for whatever reason, the one that picks it up first wins. And even though the winner may not really want it, if she’s a bitch, she’ll buy it out of spite, just to keep the other one from having it. It’s a common occurrence in the Handbag Jungle. [201]
I could get into all the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad customers that I’ve had to deal with on a daily basis, and how they sometimes intersect with the incredibly stupid, sometimes to the point of illiteracy customers, but I’m … don’t want to. It’s not important. What is important is that, while reading it, I realized I am not alone in my complete irritation at the general populace.
But really, the one place I truly felt that Freeman and I are the same person, only he lives in Burbank and I in Maine, and also, he is a boy and I am a girl and both of us like boys, is when he talks about the stupid-ass things (stupid ass-things? [I could get fired for that]) upper management does to try and make our lives as Retail Slaves better (so they think), but ends up making our lives complete Hell.
For instance, the schedule. Speaking as a leader, I am not allowed to limit my availability. Which is fine — I completely understand that. As a leader, I need to be able to be there at any time of day to see the entire team. But what that can also mean is that, this is the schedule I worked for pretty much all of November until I finally went to my boss and asked him sweetly, “Do you hate me? Or, at least, the idea of a sleep cycle?”:
Every week my schedule felt like a vomit-inducing thrill ride at Magic Mountain amusement park, except that I was anything but amused. I’d open, then close, then open, then work a mid-shift (11-8), then open, then close. [87]
And, like Freeman, I’ve had to work the more-than-six-days-in-a-row-to-get-a-day-off routine as well:
You see, in order for me to end up with three days off in a row, I had to work eight days in a row. During those eight days of opening, then closing, opening, then closing, and opening, then closing, without a day off, all the normal living shit that needed to be done didn’t get done. I’m talking about laundry, cleaning, grocery shopping, haircut and color, tanning, and exercising. [182]
And BELIEVE ME, when this happened? I kept my fucking mouth shut and ran like hell:
In the world of retail, having two days off in a row is unheard of. Three days is like a vacation. So when the General accidentally gave me a Saturday, Sunday, and Monday off because the schedule overlapped into the next week and she wasn’t paying attention, I took it and ran like I’d been awarded a Get Out of Jail Free card. [181]
Every retail store, regardless of square footage or importance, has an employee entrance. I’ve always compared my place of business to Disney World: there’s a separate employee entrance and a Habi-trail hidden from the customers’ view, so we can go all over the store without people seeing us; when we’re on the sales floor, we are on stage in a (sometimes) completely different persona, and also, our lines are very long and our rides suck sometimes. And occasionally, there are mascots walking around. Now, my employee entrance is up a small stairway, and it’s not that inconvenient. Freeman’s is an eight-flight walk-up with no chance of elevator. He calls it Mount Fancy. And one day, his corporate bosses decided to brighten up the employees’ hike up Mount Fancy by turning it into the lamer version of Studio 54, except with only three disco songs and a single disco ball, twirling unsightly and sadly on level 3. Climbing eight flights of stairs with Donna Summers’ “Hot Stuff” blasting was enough to drive Freeman crazy:
I endured the Mount Fancy three-song disco for almost a month before I snapped. I just couldn’t take any more celebrating YMCA hot stuff. Disco Death Star had to be destroyed. I tried to reach the player, but the bastards had thought of everything. The shelf was just high enough so the volume slider and off-button couldn’t be reached.
Was that done on purpose? Did they know we would get irritated by this? I became even more irritated by the thought of their preparing for our irritation. [211]
And then there’s the morning rallies, wherein we pump up the selling force to hit our goals, create an experience for our customers, sell the credit card, and have a good day! I notoriously made a seasoned rep nearly piss his pants from laughing when, one stellar, sleep-deprived morning, my rally speech consisted of, and I quote: “… make budget, sellthe credit card, blah blah blah, be awesome!” But I have to admit, my rallies are nothing like the ones Freeman attends:
“THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT, PEOPLE!” she gloated into the mike, with an oversized, eerie cartoon grin, “DOESN’T IT FEEL GREAT! DON’T YOU JUST LOVE SMILING?” [78]
One thing Freeman deals with which, luckily, I don’t, is that if someone returns a handbag he sold, he loses out on some of his commission. And when his boss warns him that he’s not making his sales goal and he replies it’s because of the high return rate, his boss just tells him to sell more. He almost hits the roof:
What next sale? Hello. We are closing! It is the last day of the pay period and Greasy’s $2,000 return is about to make my sales a negative number for the day.
I feel like a hooker who gave a ten-hour blow job and was beat up and robbed by the john, just to have the police officer who witnessed it all say, “Oh well, better luck on the next blow job.” [8]
Here’s how I described my job at one point:
“I feel that They meet me at the employee entrance with a shovel. When I open the door, They beat me repeatedly about the head, shoulders, and my upper body with the shovel. And when I’m bloodied, bruised and battered, They hand me the shovel and tell me to dig a hole with said shovel. Then They ask me to climb inside that hole, take the shovel away from me, and instruct me to pull myself out of that hole.”
It doesn’t matter who the ‘They’ in that situation is/are. It could be customers, it could be employees, co-workers, bosses, or a combination of all of the above. Regardless, when I crawl out to my car, I am a battered woman.
And it always amazes me when I get stopped on the sales floor, clearly outfitted in the dress code, wearing the sales walkie and carrying forty pairs of pants from the fitting room, and I get stopped by a customer and asked — well — :
And like the cherry on top of a shit sundae, a new customer forces her way up to the counter and shouts in my face:
“Excuse me, do you work here?”
I look like an octopus at the Aquarium of Insanity. How can she even ask me that? [viii]
I usually respond, “No, they just gave me the nametag and the outfit to raise my self-esteem. But when that failed, they gave me a job instead.”
Another thing that ties me to Freeman is that he maintains a job in retail to support his career: writing. I lie to myself and say that that’s what I’m doing — sacrificing sleep to stay up until the wee hours of the morning, banging out a thousand words a night (on a good night), working towards finishing a novel that, deep down, I’m afraid that only I will read. But I keep at it, because, as the joker said to the [Nasty Ass-] thief, there must be some kind of way outta here.
Oh man, maybe this was a bad idea. I was searching for a quote about dragons for this review, and accidentally refound the quote from Arrested Development‘s second season episode “Sword of Destiny,” where Gob is riding around on his Segway with his sword of destiny, and Michael says that it looks like he’s fighting dragons in the future, and then I made a huge mistake and decided to watch “Sword of Destiny” (no, thank you, Netflix), and now I’m afraid this entry will be rife with references to a show that only four of us have watched.
I apologize in advance. I’m sorry! (You’ll be sorry! Wait, that doesn’t work after his line … )
Anyway. This is really unfortunate, because this book is the exact opposite of Arrested Development. There’s a lot of development, and it’s dark, and gruesome, and above all, there is a lot of violence against women. A lot. A lot a lot. Like, I cannot say it enough: if you happen to have triggers for rape and violence, this is not the book for you. You should probably go find “Sword of Destiny” on Netflix and watch that instead.
No, go ahead. I’ll wait. (I need to finish the episode first anyway.)
For those of you who want to solider on and see what the fuss was about, or if you’ve already read it and are interested in what I have to say about it, let’s get to it. Although I’m going to try, for once, to not spoil everything, because if I did that, it would ruin it for you.
As y’all are probably aware, this is one of the most highly touted new series of the past decade. And yes, I am a sucker for hype. I’m also a sucker for upcoming movies starring Daniel Craig, so, y’know, there was also that. The saddest thing about this novel and the other two titles (aside from the violence against women) is that Stieg Larsson died from a heart attack with only three out of a proposed ten titles completed. So once I’ve read The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest, it’s all over. That’s very sad.
Anyway, I should probably talk about the book, huh? Considering I’ve just spend over two hundred words on a cancelled TV show and other miscellaney.
The book has two main characters: Lisbeth Salander is the titular character. She is a woman in her mid-twenties who is an accomplished hacker. She is extremely intelligent and also antisocial, but she has quite the career working with a detective agency. She is also prone to violence, but she only resorts to violence when defending herself or others. Due to her violent and asocial tendencies, she is a ward of the Swedish government, which poses problems for her in the first half of the book.
The other main character is Mikael Blomkvist, a journalist with the finanical magazine Millenium (hence, this series is referred to in many sources as the Millenium trilogy). Actually, he is a disgraced journalist, as at the beginning of the story, he has just been found guilty of libel. He had accused in his magazine a financier named Wennerstrom, and thanks to me being a huge depository of pop culture, every time I read that name, all I heard was Professor Farnsworth from Futurama grate out “WERNSTROM!” Y’know, this guy:
[It's moments like this that make me think I'm not a serious blogger.]
So while Blomkvist is dealing with forced unemployment, he gets a call from a Henrik Vanger, who wants him to solve a mystery. Forty-ish years ago, his niece, Harriet, disappeared from a family gathering. To this day, he’s unsure if she’s simply disappeared, or if she’s dead. Vanger asks Blomkvist to investigate her disappearance, which would require him to live on the Vanger Family compound for a year. Blomkvist initially wants to decline, declaring it an impossible task. Vanger sweetens the deal: should Blomkvist succeed, Vanger will give evidence that Blomkvist was correct in claiming that WERNSTROM (sorry!) is indeed a crook.
Meanwhile, Salander is incredibly violated. That’s all I’m going to say about that. That, and don’t worry, she gets her revenge in a fantastically awesome way.
In going through the investigation, Blomkvist realizes he needs a research assistant. When he learns that Salander was hired originally to do a background check on him for the Vanger corporation, he asks to hire her. She agrees, and they become a great team.
I’m not going to talk about the plot much more than that. Let me end with this: the plots are resolved (both Harriet and WERNSTROM), and they are twisty and dark and gruesome and it is more than worth it to remain as unspoiled going in as possible. I am a huge spoiler-er: with the exception of this book and maybe my no-spoiler stance on both Vampire Diaries and Veronica Mars, I like going in to things knowing how they’re going to end.
And here’s the part where we play a short round of Movies Alaina’s Never Seen, coupled with Things Alaina Knows About Those Movies Even Though She’s Never Seen Them:
- Animal House: Bluto’s a zit, FOOD FIGHT!, Marion Ravenwood’s ass, TOGA, TOGA, TOGA.
- Pulp Fiction: We never see what was in the suitcase, Uma gets shot with adrenaline on the dance floor, and they’ve never heard of McDonald’s in that universe.
- The Godfather: Leave the gun, take the cannoli; “you come to me, asking me to kill someone for money, on this, the day of my daughter’s wedding?”; and the horse head.
- The Shawshank Redemption: He escapes!
- Caddyshack: There’s a groundhog that drives Bill Murray nuts, but he’s going to Heaven, so at least he’s got that goin’ for him, which is nice.
- Star Wars: Emperor Palpatine’s a dick, Darth Vader is Luke & Leia’s dad, the Death Star gets blow’d up, and HAN SHOT FIRST.
- Schindler’s List: Schindler rescues Jews. (Enjoy your Chanukah cookie, man!) (I’m going to hell SO BAD for that joke.)
So when I finally sit down and watch these movies (and I will, because I seriously need to shut Brad and John up about that shit, and like yesterday, but I’ve been kind of busy, okay?), I want to know what’s going to happen beforehand. But I cannot tell you how happy I was that I refrained from looking up spoilers for the book, because it would have totally ruined how the plot unfolded.
I am greatly looking forward to the movie, and not just because Daniel Craig is playing Blomkvist (although, not gonna lie, that’s a big part of it). David Fincher is also directing, and I know he won’t compromise out the violence for a more marketable movie. And while there are some people in my circle who are still pissed that Noomi Rapace is not reprising her role from the Swedish movie version, I have no preconceived notions on Rooney Mara, and am awaiting the performance with open eyes and an open mind.
Two final thoughts: Firstly, I cannot stress enough that while the main plot of the novel revolves around a missing girl, the undercurrent of the entire story is a plea to fight against violence on women. There are scenes that were difficult for me to read, so I cannot warn people enough of the trigger possibilities.
Secondly, the book is very slow to start. It takes about two hundred pages for the action to truly pick up. But I beg you, stick with it, because it is totally worth it.
And now, after that highest of highs, will come the lowest of lows.
That’s right, my friends: next on my list? Breaking Dawn.
Stock up on the vodka now, kids. That one’ll be a doozy.
Grade for The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo: 5 stars
It’s been over a year since I read the last Sookie Stackhouse mystery. Coincidentally, I have the first two discs of the third season of True Blood hanging around my living room somewhere.
The third novel (and, supposedly, the third season) concerns Sookie and her relationships with men. There’s her previously-ever-present boyfriend, Vampire Bill; Bill’s boss, Eric Northman, the vampire sheriff of Area 5, which covers at least Bon Temps, Louisiana (if not all of Louisiana); Sookie’s boss at Merlotte’s bar, Sam, a shapeshifter; and now Alcide Herveaux, who owes Eric something so he agrees to help Eric and Sookie out when Bill goes missing.
Because yes, Bill goes missing. He’s working on some secret project or whatever and won’t tell Sookie about it, and when he goes to do more research or whatever, he ends up kidnapped in Mississippi. Eric wants Bill back, because now Bill’s on the turf of the Vampire King of Mississippi, Russell Edgington. (Louisiana has a Queen, if you’re keeping track.) Eric doesn’t want to send Sookie by herself, because even though she’s a telepath, she’s also merely human. So he calls on Alcide to stand by her. Oh, and Alcide’s a Werewolf.
So Sookie leaves Bon Temps behind and heads to Jackson, MI, with Alcide as her bodyguard. Except the more they get to know each other, the more Sookie and Alcide start liking each other. But both parties know they can’t get involved with the other; Sookie’s on a rescue mission for her boyfriend, after all, and Alcide is still getting over being dumped by his ex, Debbie.
Their first stop is Club Dead, a bar where supernatural beings congregate and regular humans can’t enter (unless accompanied by a supernatural being). Sookie’s goal is to listen in on humans and see if any of them are thinking about Bill. On the first night, Sookie nearly gets into a bar fight over some Weres flirting heavily over her. Russell Edgington happens to come to her rescue, and then practically demands that she and Alcide return the next night. Which they do, and Sookie interrupts an assassination attempt on one of the second-in-commands of Russell. Sadly, Sookie ends up with a stake in her side for her efforts. Russell (and Eric, who’s there in disguise, keeping an eye on Sookie) takes her back to his mansion so she can recuperate. After having a vampire blood transfusion, she’s ready and raring to go, because Eric’s spy vampire, “Bubba,” has found Bill.
To speed up on my plot recap: Bill, Eric, and Sookie all get back to Bon Temps safely. Sookie breaks up with Bill, because while he was missing, he hooked up repeatedly with his sire, Lorena. And it is revealed that Bill was going to leave Sookie for Lorena. Understandably pissed, Sookie rescinds Bill’s invitation to her house. Recognizing that there is also sexual tension between herself and Eric, she rescinds his invitation, too. She and Alcide agree to remain friends — for now.
Before I get into the awesomeness that is Sookie, let me recount why I enjoy these vampires so much. A of all, they don’t sparkle. (Hey, one of the books on my to-read list is Breaking Dawn. I’m not done with sparkling vampires yet.) B of all, they can stay awake during the day, if they have to, but really, they should be in a coffin when the sun comes up. Vampires are able to be tortured through the use of silver. They do feed on humans, though TrueBlood has made it easier for vampires to get sustenance without having to hunt. And they are most definitely evil. Now, I could digress here and discuss how The Vampire Diaries‘s vampires have the tendency to be more violent, but I’m not going to, because a, it’s a digression, and b, we all know it would end up being an aria praising Damon as the King of Awesome, and this is neither the time nor the place.
Now, Sookie. Sookie is, for the most part, human. Sure, she can hear the thoughts of other people, but in terms of immortality or changing her genetic structure when the moon is nigh, she is human. This sets her apart from Buffy (super-powered vampire slayer), Caroline Forbes (normal-girl-turned-vampire), and even Elena Gilbert (*gasp* the Doppleganger!). [The last two are from The Vampire Diaries.] Anita Blake, of the Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter series is a necromancer, with an innate talent towards raising the dead. So I think that leaves Sookie’s only human contemporary to be … Bella Swan. So let’s turn to one of my favorite segments: Ways in Which Bella Swan Sucks.
… Basically, Bella wants to end her life in order to be with her boyfriend forever. Even when said boyfriend can be somewhat abusive and controlling (I will remind you about the WATCHING HER IN HER SLEEP). Also, she’s a whiny bitch and makes everything All About Her.
Sookie, meanwhile, doesn’t define herself by her man. When she finds out Bill has been cheating on her, she is very tempted to cheat her-ownself with Alcide. But she doesn’t, because she was raised right by her Gram. Instead, she breaks up with Bill. And even though she isn’t truly supernatural, that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t believe herself strong enough to hold her own against other supernatural beings:
If Alcide expected or wanted me to ask for smelling salts, or to beg him to save me from the big bad wolf, he had the wrong woman. [130-131]
She also remains her own person:
“They found the corpse in the closet of Alcide’s apartment, and they hatched a plan to hide his remains.” Eric sounded like that had been kind of cute for us.
“My Sookie hid a corpse?”
“I don’t think you can be too sure about that possessive pronoun.”
“Where did you learn that term, Northman?”
“I took ‘English as a Second Language’ at a community college in the seventies.”
Bill said, “She is mine.”
I wondered if my hands would move. They would. I raised both of them, making an unmistakeable one-fingered gesture.
Eric laughed, and Bill said “Sookie!” in shocked astonishment.
“I think that Sookie is telling us she belongs to herself,” Eric said softly. [269]
Hands-down, I prefer Sookie Stackhouse over Bella Swan. She’s sarcastic, she swears, she can hold her own, and she doesn’t want to subvert her own identity in order to keep a man. How’s that for a female role-model?
I continue to enjoy both the Sookie Stackhouse mystery series as well as True Blood, though the TV series is remarkably different from the novels. Someday, I’ll write that essay on their differences, but tonight is not that night — tomorrow ain’t looking that good, either.
Well, it would probably help if I spelled the author’s last name correctly …
I had been meaning to get into the Tess Gerritsen novels for a while. My mother actually was the first one to draw my attention to the series, though she never got in too deep when discussing them with me. She knows that I enjoy crime thrillers and not like a lot of romance (while I have since branched out into reading historical romances, you may have noticed that recently, that genre is not appearing as frequently as it was for a while), and as an added bonus, Ms. Gerritsen is sort of a local, living in Camden, Maine. She did a book signing years ago at the now-defunct Bookland, and Mom got a couple of her books signed by Ms. Gerritsen.
And then my roommate started watching Rizzoli and Isles on TNT last summer, and I don’t think it was until this summer that I realized that the series was based on the Tess Gerritsen series. I can’t remember how I figured it out — I think someone mentioned ‘the books’ in my hearing, and then I had them put two and two together for me. Sometimes I need extra people to do math for me.
Anyway. I went to the library (because both Bookland and now Borders are defunct, and also [and more importantly] I need to stop buying books all the damn time, that’s what libraries are for) and picked up Naked Heat, this, and the next book I’ll read, Cooking for Geeks. This came before the cookbook.
I liked the book. I don’t really watch Rizzoli and Isles when the roommate watches it; I have so much TV to watch as it is, and also, the plot didn’t really interest me. I like Angie Harmon well enough, but it seemed like just another procedural. I’ll watch it if she’s watching it and I’m in the room, but it’s not appointment TV. But the point of that sentence is that I began reading The Surgeon without preconceived notions. I had no idea what I was going into; I only knew to picture Angie Harmon when I read the part of Rizzoli.
This is the first book in the Jane Rizzoli series (I’m going to call it Rizzoli & Isles in the tag, however, because Dr. Isles appears in the next book, The Apprentice). She is a homicide detective for the Boston PD, which meant that I actually knew the neighborhoods the different characters lived in. Back Bay, Southie, Jamaica Plain — all are somewhat familiar to me. Well, there is a serial killer running around Boston, nicknamed The Surgeon. His modus operandi is to kidnap women, lash them to their bed with duct tape, perform a hysterectomy on them while they’re still alive, and then slit their throat. Yeah, it’s pretty gory and gross.
Det. Thomas Moore is the lead on the case, assisted by a handful of other detectives and Det. Jane Rizzoli. Rizzoli is tough and unemotional, the product of fighting for the spotlight as the youngest only sister to two brothers, as well as being the sole female detective in her unit. Meanwhile, Moore is patient, calm, and saintlike. During the course of the investigation, they discover a connection to a rash of killings that occurred in Savannah, Georgia. Those murders were committed by Andrew Capra, and he was killed by his last victim, Dr. Catherine Cordell. Dr. Cordell was able to shoot him while he was attacking her, so she survived. She then moved up to Boston. One year later, another woman is killed in a similar fashion. A year after that, the second murder is committed, and now there’s a series. The clues, once gathered, all point to a copycat of Andrew Capra, and the more they investigate, the more they are horrified to find that the murderer is killing in order to terrorize Dr. Cordell from afar.
Over the course of the investigation, Det. Moore begins to fall for Dr. Cordell, and she for him. At one point, he is sent to Savannah to investigate possible associates of Andrew Capra, but more importantly, to separate himself from his growing attraction for Dr. Cordell. In the end, the killer is caught, and all becomes right with the world.
What rubbed me the wrong way in a couple of places was what I felt to be over-the-top feminism. Now, before I go too far, let me explain my personal stance on feminism: yes, it sucks that women make sixty cents for every dollar that men earn in the same position (blanket statement). Yes, it sucks that women are always being portrayed in the media as sluts, whores, and sexual objects. Yes, it sucks that women are rarely recognized for their intelligence and reasoning skills. Do I find myself fighting the status quo and the media machine due to those portrayals? … eh. Not really. Because I am aware of those portrayals, and they are portrayals I’ve seen all my life, and because I know that the media machine is now a near-unstoppable male empire of testosterone and jackassery, I’m going to spend my time fighting for things where I know I can make a bigger difference. Like, attending the Rally to Restore Sanity, or writing that comedy pilot that finally portrays people like ordinary people and not stereotypes.
Oookay, that was a rant and a half. I apologize. To get back to the main impetus of the story, the victims of The Surgeon had all been sexually assaulted prior to being brutally murdered. I know, right? As if getting raped wasn’t bad enough, now they find themselves the target of a brutal killer. And yes, again, it sucks, but I almost took offense at this woman who runs a women’s crisis center in the book. Moore and Rizzoli are following a lead, and learn that one of the victims of the Surgeon availed herself of services at this clinic.
Here’s the first quote I bookmarked to return to:
“It’s a possibility we’re considering,” said Rizzoli. “Unfortunately, the victim is comatose and can’t talk to us.”
“Don’t call her the victim. She does have a name.” [119]
And I’m like, yes, she does have a name, but she is also a victim. It sucks that she is also female, but let’s not look past the dictionary definition of the word victim.
And then, two pages later, the Women’s Crisis Center lady [Sarah] has another feminist moment:
“Did she remember the man who took her home?” asked Rizzoli. “That’s what we really need to know.”
Sarah looked at her. “It’s all about the criminal, isn’t it? That’s all those two cops from Sex Crimes wanted to hear about. The perp gets the attention.” [121]
Listen, lady, do you know why the perp gets all the attention? Because they want to catch him and prevent him from hurting more women. Because at this point, the cops have done all they can towards helping the victim — they can refer her to health care, they can refer her to therapy, and they can refer her to support groups. But after that, the attention turns to the criminal so they can catch him and punish him. And this is why I tend to have a problem with the more severe feminists — at some point, they rely so much on redefining gender that they no longer rely on logic.
So in the end, I enjoyed the book. There were a couple of descriptions of violence that I had to read through quickly (I do admit, I can be squeamish at times), and I see the beginnings of a great character in Jane Rizzoli. I will most likely continue reading this series in the future.
Dudes, after the travesty in decision-making that was “reading The Mayor of Casterbridge,” I am so proud of myself that I finished this book in, like, 48 hours. Granted, I had a big assist from my time in Boston this weekend (no, thank you, Holiday Inn Express-Saugus and the Public Garden), but this is how I’m supposed to read books: quickly and efficiently, in less than a week.
So where does the story pick up from Heat Wave? Well, for one, Jameson Rook’s article on Nikki and her team has been published, and though we don’t get to read it, we’re left to believe it’s a lot like No Doubt during Tragic Kingdom‘s huge sales. You know, the video for “Don’t Speak”? Where everyone’s trying to make a big deal out of Gwen and the boys aren’t having it? And even Gwen’s pissed that she’s become the center of attention? Well, substitute Nikki Heat for Gwen and Raley and Ochoa for Adrian, Tom and Tony, and that’s essentially how the whole situation shook out. Oh, and Heat’s pissed at Rook for making her all popular and stuff.
But the actual case is this: Cassidy Towne, one of the premier gossip hounds for one of the leading New York City papers, is stabbed in the back. And while that would be juicy enough, it turns out that Heat’s old pal Jameson Rook just happened to be doing a story on Towne, and so they’re back working together on a case.
The book still reads like a longer episode of Castle, and since that’s a show I enjoy weekly (OH SHIT I just remembered I still owe Brad five bucks for his raincheck Season One Castle he bought for me dammit), I will continue to read the Nikki Heat series.
And, much like the TV show, “Richard Castle” rewards his readers with little nuggets like these:
Heat didn’t like to bigfoot [detectives] Malcolm and Reynolds, but she wanted to check out the Dragonfly herself. [142]
I’ll admit, it took me a couple of seconds, but yes, that is a rather oblique reference to the great Malcolm Reynolds of Firefly, played by the awesome Nathan Fillion.
There weren’t as many weird grammar things in this book, which gives me hope — maybe someday, I’ll read one that has no weird grammar things. This was the only one I caught:
Detective Heat knew Soleil Gray had a music video shoot that day because her lawyer had mentioned it the afternoon before when she accused Heat of harassing her client at her places of business. [226]
It just seems that there are too many prepositional phrases in that sentence.
So while I got Naked Heat from the library, I’ll be keeping an eye out for it used, as well as the third book in the series, Heat Rises. And I think the best part about these books? Is that you don’t have to be a fan of Castle to enjoy them. I mean, yeah, that’s how I got into it, but I’d like to think that if I happened across either of these books on the shelf in the library or the now-defunct Borders or wherever, and there wasn’t an author photograph or a dot that tells me to watch Castle to tip me off, I’d enjoy it as a separate entity. So, if you don’t watch Castle, that’s okay — the books are great on their own.
Oh, my God. I can’t believe I spent SO LONG reading THAT.
A) of all, I did not think it would take me nearly a month to read The Mayor of Casterbridge. Of course, having said that, I did not take into account the craziness that would explode at work, what with writing reviews and staying late and all the other … well, craziness. And B) of all, dudes — the next time I have a dream wherein I’m reading a book I’ve never read before, and I decide that I want to read that book to see if there are any parallels between the novel and the dream or whatever else is going on in my life? I want y’all to point to this moment in my life, say “Mayor of Casterbridge,” and then smack me in the face, because there are never ANY parallels between what I dream and what I read.
And here’s a difficulty for me and this book: I liked Tess of the d’Urbervilles. I thought I would like any Hardy equally. I WAS WRONG.
The titular Mayor of Casterbridge is Michael Henchard. You may think the narrative focuses on his tenure as Mayor — you would be wrong. The novel begins when Michael, his wife, Susan, and their infant daughter Elizabeth-Jane enter the fair at Weydon Priors. They have been traveling, and they are hungry. So they buy something called furmity (which sounds like porridge to me), and Michael spikes his with rum (as I would do, given porridge as my only option). He gets progressively drunker, rants against his poverty, and in his supreme moment of drunkenness, proclaims to sell his wife for five pounds. A passing sailor, Newsom, takes him at his deal, and voila – Mrs. Henchard now becomes Mrs. Newsom. The next day, Michael is appropriately chastised, but decides it’s for the best for both himself and Susan. He vows to abstain from alcohol for twenty-one years, which is his current age.
Flash-foward about nineteen years or so, and Susan and her eighteen-year-old daughter, Elizabeth-Jane, are entering Casterbridge, looking for an ‘old relative,’ Henchard. They are astounded to find him in good health, good spirits, a wealthy corn-and-hay-broker, as well as one of the Mayors of the town. They spend the night in an inn, rather than claim kin right away. While there, they meet Donald Farfrae, a Scotsman who’s passing through the town towards the coast, hoping to set sail for the Americas. Henchard meets up with him, and is impressed with his solution for saving blighted corn, and offers him the job of manager of his corn processing plant (or whatever). Farfrae and Elizabeth meet in the inn, but neither say anything to each other.
The next day, Elizabeth goes to Henchard and claims kin in a roundabout way. Henchard goes to meet Susan that night, and they agree that the best idea for both of them (due to Henchard’s claim that he’s a widower) is to have the Newsoms move into a house in town, have Henchard ‘court’ Susan, and then remarry later. Meanwhile, Farfrae is gaining in the business, and Henchard is starting to feel slightly unnerved by the quiet, stoic Scotsman. When Susan dies, Henchard is afraid that Elizabeth will leave him alone, and so he tells her that he is actually her father, not the sea captain Newsom she had believed all of her life. But then, right after he tells her this, he goes looking for something in Susan’s bureau and finds a letter addressed to Henchard, to not be opened until Elizabeth’s wedding-day. Henchard, being a curious bugger, opens it, and finds that — gasp! — his Elizabeth-Jane died shortly after being sold to Newsom, and Elizabeth-Jane in the parlor is actually Newsom’s Elizabeth-Jane! [Did you see the math I did up there, where Elizabeth-Jane was 18 only 19 years after being sold? Huh? Did you see that?]
But he doesn’t tell her that, because a) of all, he doesn’t want to lose her, and b) of all, it would look really stupid of him to say “Hey, uh, remember five seconds ago when I said I was your dad? Apparently your mom lied to me and you’re not my daughter after all. Sorry.”
And then, there’s Lucetta. Lucetta comes to town shortly after or shortly before Susan’s death (I can’t remember, and even though the book is right next to the keyboard, I’m not going to look it up). She wants to marry Henchard, because they had an affair years ago, in which he proposed marriage, but then rescinded because his wife wasn’t really dead. Now that she’s dead, Lucetta can marry Henchard! But then she meets Farfrae and falls in love with him even more, and so she rebuffs Henchard and marries Farfrae on the sly.
Meanwhile, Henchard has forecasted poorly in that year’s harvest, and he has lost everything. So he has lost his actual wife; the woman he was going to marry; his daughter; his business; and his friendship with Farfrae. He continues on his downward slide; Lucetta asks him to return her love letters to him. He gives them to his new manager, Jopp, to deliver, because he doesn’t want to see her again. Instead, Jopp goes to a shady tavern and reads them out loud, which leads the bad side of town to discern that Henchard and Lucetta were adulterers years ago, and they plan something called a “skimmington ride,” which used to happen when adultery was discovered. One night, after a Royal Personage goes through town (and Henchard embarrasses himself by trying to shake the Prince’s hand in front of everyone, apparently that’s something that’s frowned upon in mid-19th-Century Rural Britain), and the shady people send Farfrae out on a stupid mission to get him out of town (because if there were a sitcom based on this book back then, it would be Everybody Loves Farfrae), and the shady people make up some dummies of Henchard and Lucetta, tie them to a donkey, and set the donkey marching through town. Lucetta sees the donkey, is able to add two and two, and has a seizure from the shock. She’s also pregnant, not that it matters, because both die. Thanks, donkey.
Henchard ostracizes himself from society, but when Elizabeth sees how lonely he is, she goes to him and offers to stay with him to keep him company and take care of him. But then! Sea Captain Newsom returns from the dead! And he wants to see Elizabeth! And Henchard lies and tells him that she died. So Newsom leaves town, but then Henchard regrets doing that, but he’s too greedy to let Elizabeth know her real father is alive.
Eventually, Farfrae proposes marriage to Elizabeth-Jane, she accepts, then Newsom returns again and she is made aware of Henchard’s deception. Henchard returns to Casterbridge on this, the day of his ‘daughter’s’ wedding (I’m sorry), and they have a big fight and he leaves again. He dies like, four days later, not wanting a proper burial or recognition, because he feels he doesn’t deserve it.
Er, thus endeth the Cliffs Notes edition of The Mayor of Casterbridge. And look, if I wasn’t so tired all the time (no, seriously, I fell asleep at 4 a.m., slept until 1 p.m., then woke up from an hour-long nap on the couch at 6 after trying to finish this book, what the hell), I may have enjoyed it more. Hardy really enjoys playing with happenstance and random events that aren’t under any character’s control, which is different from any other novelist writing during that time period (I direct your attention to Charles Dickens and any of his books). There’s a lot about making decisions based on selfish needs and the dichotomy between Farfrae and Henchard is interesting — I just found it a chore to get through.
So I rate it with 1.5 stars (because classic literature automatically gets half a star if I can finish it), and move on to trashier things: the second Nikki Heat mystery, for one; the third Sookie Stackhouse mystery for another.
Okay, I’ve had this entry window up and blank for about half an hour now. As I was reading this, I didn’t have the wherewithal to actually mark quotes like I usually do, and also, I don’t want to give away any major plot points. Hm. So really, I don’t know how to talk about this.
