A quick update

There is a massive thunderstorm going on right now, and it's great. The thunder sounds almost reluctant -like the sky is getting popped instead of cracked in half. It's pretty crazy. Also the rain is great, as it's been about 2 weeks+ since we had any.

I'm still reading The Library at Night, because it's worth reading slowly. I'll work through an essay and then pause for a few minutes to allow for mental digestion. It's really a fantastic book. I will admit, however, that I am itching to begin the graphic novel version of F451; I am aware that if I start it I won't read anything else until I've finished it, so I'm holding off.

There is no review today, obviously, it's a Tuesday. There might not be one tomorrow, either. There might be a little thing about some current events in Cleveland, perhaps. I'm not sure.

Also, just because I feel like letting the world know -one of my biggest pet peeves is when people say, "A whole nother." Nother is not a word. It's "another whole." Please? For my sake?

My hands are covered in ink.

Today as part of my second job at Spectrum Eye (the first bit was finding, pulling and re-filing 2000+ files), I started faxing 929 new doctor announcements. Except first I had to cross off all of the out-of-state doctors. Then all of the in-town doctors. Then all of the doctors with no fax numbers (duh). Then I had to go through and find all of the optometrists and ophthalmologists to make sure I fax to them first (hello yellow hi-liter). I went from 929 to 373 doctors. 97 of those are now hi-lited. My hands are covered in ink from crossing stuff out. I don't just do lines, I do big wavy scrawls. No curlicues, just big waves. That way I know it's really crossed out.
After an hour and 39 minutes I decided I was done for the day.
I haven't sent a single fax yet.

In other news, you guys suck. I got zero votes on what review to post today! My feelings are hurt. On a scale of one to permanent scarring, I'm at about a knee scrape. Screw you guys. :(

So I picked the review of The Great Gatsby. Mostly because I worked really hard on it. It took probably 3 hours total to write, edit, re-write, re-edit, finish, polish, find links, format and publish. So be grateful. And go read it. I'm pretty pleased with it. Of course I could have written more or changed a few things...but I say that about every piece, every time I go back and read it again. I've learned to just let go a little. Once it's out there, it's out there. I'm chill with it. It's a good review, and I like it.

The only rotten part is now I want to watch the movie version except I know it will depress the hell out of me.

Today I'm going to be working on a review of The Perks of Being a Wallflower (thanks again Dirk), and possibly going to the library to pick some stuff up. I got Walden Two (which I'm working on) but the two other books I got I haven't even cracked. That's a bad sign for them...usually if I grab a book and let it stew for a couple of days the suspense drives me nuts and I blast through them. These two are just sitting there, bored and useless. That means they need to go back and I need to find something else.

Right now then I have TPoBaW, W2 and Interview with the Vampire to work on; Alex is going to lend me Parallelities when he gets back from NYC (cue jealous grumbling and bitching) and I'm hoping Jonah will let me borrow a sci-fi book he was telling me about, which is called either Up or Down the Line (my memory is horrible).

Other than that, I still need ideas. I'm going to go through my own books and pick out a few I remember well enough to review without rereading (Assassins of Tamurin which I've read upwards of 6 times is definitely one, maybe A Canticle for Leibowitz... we'll see. Memoirs of a Survivor. Stuff like that), but I still need ideas.

I'm also going to be writing a piece on what literature is for my super secret special project, and I want some outside opinions. What do you think literature is? Write as much as I want. If you give me good ideas, I'll use them and credit you in the blog entry about it and be forever grateful to you. I have some outlined ideas which I'll be keeping to myself so as not to bias your comments (which had better be many), but I would love to hear from you all. All...what, 5 of you who read this? If I'm lucky.

The Things That Matter

After finishing Rebecca, I realized with an unpleasant jolt that I had nothing left from the library to read. So of course I had to go yesterday and get some things. I got Everything Is Illuminated, a bio of Audrey Hepburn, Brave New World, The Things that Matter and a book called The Accidental. The ones I've not read look interesting and the one I have I know is good; I just want to review it.

There was a terrific thunderstorm this morning. I haven't heard it rain so hard since Findlay flooded a couple of years ago. The thunder was fantastic, too. It sounded like the world was tearing open. I loved it.

Right now I'm reading The Things That Matter. It's an analysis of 7 great works of literature and how they relate to seven different stages of life. So far it's been really good; I've read the first section, which deals with Frankenstein. It dragged on a little towards the end of its 40-some pages; I got the feeling that the author ran out of things to say and so repeated them a lot. However, it did get his point across. Lots of biographical information on Mary Shelley and a perspective on Frankenstein and the creature (not the monster, as I usually see it called, which I thought was interesting in itself) I haven't really seen before.

So far so good.

I also got the movie La Vie En Rose, which is about Edith Piaf. La Vie En Rose is one of my favorite songs. Audrey Hepburn sings it in Sabrina, and Edith Piaf is famous for it; it's a beautiful song. The actress who plays Piaf in the movie, Marion Cotillard, also plays Billie Frechette in the movie Public Enemies, which I saw a week ago...it's a good movie, by the by. Worth seeing, despite its length. It's one of the most beautifully shot movies I think I've ever seen. There's one scene in particular, in a bar, where the only thing in the frame are the heads of the characters talking at one side of the screen, the edge of the bar extending away from them, and darkness. It's unspeakably gorgeous.

Now that the storm is over, it's sunny and humid and sticky...I know my mom isn't going to turn on the AC, which sucks since (for once in Findlay) there is no wind. But it's a pretty day. Everything is crackly and wet.

I like Saturdays.

Real vampires

I've done it again, me and my reviewing. This time, it's a (mostly) positive look at the Sookie Stackhouse Novels by Charlaine Harris. True Blood (one of my favorite shows) is based on them, and I'm only a little embarrassed to say that the show is the only reason I picked up the books. I am very pleased, however, to say that I was pleasantly surprised by them. They're not great, I'll be honest, but they don't really try to be. They try to be violent, steamy, interesting fun -and they are. That's all they are, and that's all they need to be. Hell, if that's all Twilight pretended to be, I might be able to like them.


Okay, that was an exaggeration.

Twilight can't even pretend to be as good as these books, because Twilight is too busy primping its hair and pretending to be a saga. It's a series. A series. Look up the definition of a saga before you sling the word around like so much mud.

The Sookie Stackhouse Novels aren't written for high-brow readers of literature. They're written for the everyday girl (or guy) looking for a little bit of lighthearted fun, and they deliver. There are plenty of flaws in the books (I get a pang every time I think of "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" written as "The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner"), but despite those flaws, at least there's a story. There's an interesting, complex story with interesting, complex characters. Sookie's shallow moments are human moments, not Mary Sue moments, and the characters continue to get more interesting as the series progresses.

So, while I would read these over Twilight in a heartbeat -less than a heartbeat -I still wouldn't call them good literature. But damned if I don't enjoy them.