Yeah, I don't know either. But a lot of poetry and haiku gets written during ARH, that's all I know.
In this one, I was playing around with imagery and symbolism, so the title will come after the poem itself.
--
a needle pressed into the pad
ah she says surprised
harder into the skin
prick
prick!
wince
red beads drip downdown her finger
fascinated stare
it won't be so hard the next time.
--
Any guesses?
It's called "Blood Sister".
Now don't you feel silly?
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Why I have such a hate-on for Gretchen Wilson and her ilk
First thing: I enjoy country music. Quality country music, of course. Garth Brooks, Lee Ann Womack, Emmylou Harris, Brooks and Dunn, Miranda Lambert, Josh Turner... people who demonstrate actual talent in crafting songs and real music. I catch some teasing from friends about it sometimes, but I do see quality in country music, just like there is quality in any kind of overcommercialized music *coughhiphopcough*
Gretchen Wilson is not quality.
Let's not delude ourselves - nobody ever said she was. But I'll be damned if my ire doesn't pique every single time I hear that "classic" "Redneck Woman". It offends every single sensibility of mine in the lyrics alone.
Because I have such a burning hatred for this song, I'll show you and explain the lines that make me incoherent with rage. Fun!
Well I ain't never
Been the barbie doll type
No I can't swig that sweet champagne
I'd rather drink beer all night
The beginning of the song, ladies and gentlemen. The beginning. And already I want to break her beer bottle and stab her in the eye with it. What she does here is set it up nicely to explain that all women get divvied up into two categories:
Seriously, Gretchen, fuck you. Some of us have never been from the country and quite frankly have absolutely no desire to - and are not perfectly-sculpted Barbie dolls that swill champagne. There are myriad other categories that women alone fall under that don't involve those two. How about the woman from the inner city who's worked her whole life to get somewhere? How about the hipster girls at the poetry slam? How about the moshers at the Nine Inch Nails concert? Way to acknowledge any of them - or, even worse, imply that all of those women are "the barbie doll type" simply because they aren't down-home country like you. Let me tell you, if somebody told my friends I was the Barbie-doll type, they'd laugh until the tears were streaming down their faces.
Worse, we're supposed to agree that she's inherently better because she's country. Uh, no, actually. I think I'll pass that one because it is just too easy.
I'll stand barefooted in my own front yard with a baby on my hip
You do that, sweetheart, but others kinda wince at the imagery of a barefoot pregnant woman. It's not like that's inflammatory or sexist at all, nope.
Also, I have nothing against having children, but seriously? Some of us would like to get some education before we go down that long hard road that is parenting. And maybe some of us don't want kids, for whatever reasons. (I know that having children is something I have to think seriously about because depression is hereditary and look at all the problems I've had with it. Not saying I don't want kids, but for anybody with a mental illness, it's something that requires thought.) Not everyone wants to live in a trailer with their infants chucked on their hips. Actually, if you can point out to me anyone who thinks that's desirable or a great goal in life, I'll... well, I'm not actually sure what I'll do. Probably bang my head on my desk repeatedly.
Cause I'm a redneck woman
And I ain't no high class broad
Extra "fuck you" for calling anyone not like you a broad (I hate that term with a passion). And ooh, if they ain't homegrown like me, they must be puttin' on some high-class airs! Not. Reality check, girl: there's a huuuuuuge middle ground between "redneck" and "high-class".
And I keep my Christmas lights on, on my front porch all year long
This is just a personal pet peeve, but that offends my sense of aesthetics. Have some pride in where you live, please.
Victoria's Secret
Well their stuff's real nice
Oh but I can buy the same damn thing on a Wal*Mart shelf half price
And still look sexy
Just as sexy
As those models on TV
No I don't need no designer tag to make my man want me
No, actually, you cannot buy Victoria's Secret-quality at Wal-Mart. And you never will. My Wal-Mart bras have all fallen apart at this point - it's the stuff I got at department stores that's still holding up. And I will be damned if a Wal-Mart bra gives you half the push-up that Vicky's gives me. Also: does Wal-Mart sell that sexy little lingerie hiding in my drawer? I didn't think so. Until they do, I don't take that section seriously.
And come on, no man gives a shit about the tags on your bra or lingerie, and saying that they do is stupid. Does anybody here know a man who cares if the bra you have on is xhiliration or Frederick's? But the quality does and should matter. If you can't afford it (god knows I can't), then that's fine, but don't sit there and tell me that it's all the same and nobody gives a damn. Well, I give a damn, because I like my stuff to last a long time. I'd rather buy one bra that'll last for years than a cartful of bras that'll last for six months max. (And if you really need to save, go buy Target or head to the mall and get something from a department store. It's still inexpensive and the quality's better. Maybe not as cheap as Wal-Mart, but when I say cheap, I mean price and quality.)
...and then the rest is mostly a lot of "hell yeah"s, to which I can only say, "woo."
Do you see now why I can't stand this song? I mean, I know I was just fucking around with that last part, but it's the absurd set up that women can either be down-home girls with babies and no education or airheaded bimbos with pneumatic tits and pouty lips. I happen to be a slight, intelligent woman going to college to further myself who loves learning and despises both of those stereotypes, mostly because they simplify women too damn much and partially because both of those types of women don't even care about taking the time to get educated.
Don't believe me?
"In 2007, [Wilson] completed the GED program."
You mean to tell me she had all that time, all that fame and money, and only recently bothered to get her GED? Ridiculous. And don't throw that "she comes from poverty, okay?" excuse at me, because if you want something hard enough, you'll do what it takes. My high school best friend came from poverty and frequently did not have enough money for essential things. There was no way in hell she could pay for college. But she worked hard and did what it took to be able to go. We've since fallen out, but if I'm correct she's still at college, working for her scholarships and loans. Do not tell me that Gretchen Wilson did not have the opportunity to go to a public high school where everything is funded for you and get her high school diploma.
Yes, I am intolerant of those who deliberately pass up education as an option and deride it as something for the elite. Education is for everyone. There is no excuse not to get one. Maybe it's my privilege speaking, but guess what? I went to public school too. I come from a lower-middle-class family who has had to strain and push for every penny we earn. There was no way my family could help me pay for college, and there was no way I could pay on my own. I had to bust my ass for scholarships and ended up landing a sweet one. I know what it's like to have to work hard in order to further myself.
Don't get me wrong. I don't hate this song because of Gretchen Wilson. I hate Gretchen Wilson because this song is a complete insult to any intelligent, thinking woman who uses her brain to do something other than hit the keg with the good ol' boys.
You might think I'm trashy
A little too hard core
Trashy? Yes. As for hardcore... darling, I know high school freshman more hardcore than you'll ever be. You are a woman who thinks "broad" is an acceptable term to call another woman. Any "down-home" thing you do is mostly to get the boys to love you because you aren't like those "sissy girls", undoubtably. There is absolutely nothing hardcore about you. Now go put that GED to some use, for the love of god.
Gretchen Wilson is not quality.
Let's not delude ourselves - nobody ever said she was. But I'll be damned if my ire doesn't pique every single time I hear that "classic" "Redneck Woman". It offends every single sensibility of mine in the lyrics alone.
Because I have such a burning hatred for this song, I'll show you and explain the lines that make me incoherent with rage. Fun!
Well I ain't never
Been the barbie doll type
No I can't swig that sweet champagne
I'd rather drink beer all night
The beginning of the song, ladies and gentlemen. The beginning. And already I want to break her beer bottle and stab her in the eye with it. What she does here is set it up nicely to explain that all women get divvied up into two categories:
- "Ah don't b'lieve in bein' some uppity girl who cain't take a li'l beer now and again! Hey, wanna arm wrestle?" and
- "Like, check out my BMW, girrrrrrls! But be careful you don't break a nail! *giggle*"
Seriously, Gretchen, fuck you. Some of us have never been from the country and quite frankly have absolutely no desire to - and are not perfectly-sculpted Barbie dolls that swill champagne. There are myriad other categories that women alone fall under that don't involve those two. How about the woman from the inner city who's worked her whole life to get somewhere? How about the hipster girls at the poetry slam? How about the moshers at the Nine Inch Nails concert? Way to acknowledge any of them - or, even worse, imply that all of those women are "the barbie doll type" simply because they aren't down-home country like you. Let me tell you, if somebody told my friends I was the Barbie-doll type, they'd laugh until the tears were streaming down their faces.
Worse, we're supposed to agree that she's inherently better because she's country. Uh, no, actually. I think I'll pass that one because it is just too easy.
I'll stand barefooted in my own front yard with a baby on my hip
You do that, sweetheart, but others kinda wince at the imagery of a barefoot pregnant woman. It's not like that's inflammatory or sexist at all, nope.
Also, I have nothing against having children, but seriously? Some of us would like to get some education before we go down that long hard road that is parenting. And maybe some of us don't want kids, for whatever reasons. (I know that having children is something I have to think seriously about because depression is hereditary and look at all the problems I've had with it. Not saying I don't want kids, but for anybody with a mental illness, it's something that requires thought.) Not everyone wants to live in a trailer with their infants chucked on their hips. Actually, if you can point out to me anyone who thinks that's desirable or a great goal in life, I'll... well, I'm not actually sure what I'll do. Probably bang my head on my desk repeatedly.
Cause I'm a redneck woman
And I ain't no high class broad
Extra "fuck you" for calling anyone not like you a broad (I hate that term with a passion). And ooh, if they ain't homegrown like me, they must be puttin' on some high-class airs! Not. Reality check, girl: there's a huuuuuuge middle ground between "redneck" and "high-class".
And I keep my Christmas lights on, on my front porch all year long
This is just a personal pet peeve, but that offends my sense of aesthetics. Have some pride in where you live, please.
Victoria's Secret
Well their stuff's real nice
Oh but I can buy the same damn thing on a Wal*Mart shelf half price
And still look sexy
Just as sexy
As those models on TV
No I don't need no designer tag to make my man want me
No, actually, you cannot buy Victoria's Secret-quality at Wal-Mart. And you never will. My Wal-Mart bras have all fallen apart at this point - it's the stuff I got at department stores that's still holding up. And I will be damned if a Wal-Mart bra gives you half the push-up that Vicky's gives me. Also: does Wal-Mart sell that sexy little lingerie hiding in my drawer? I didn't think so. Until they do, I don't take that section seriously.
And come on, no man gives a shit about the tags on your bra or lingerie, and saying that they do is stupid. Does anybody here know a man who cares if the bra you have on is xhiliration or Frederick's? But the quality does and should matter. If you can't afford it (god knows I can't), then that's fine, but don't sit there and tell me that it's all the same and nobody gives a damn. Well, I give a damn, because I like my stuff to last a long time. I'd rather buy one bra that'll last for years than a cartful of bras that'll last for six months max. (And if you really need to save, go buy Target or head to the mall and get something from a department store. It's still inexpensive and the quality's better. Maybe not as cheap as Wal-Mart, but when I say cheap, I mean price and quality.)
...and then the rest is mostly a lot of "hell yeah"s, to which I can only say, "woo."
Do you see now why I can't stand this song? I mean, I know I was just fucking around with that last part, but it's the absurd set up that women can either be down-home girls with babies and no education or airheaded bimbos with pneumatic tits and pouty lips. I happen to be a slight, intelligent woman going to college to further myself who loves learning and despises both of those stereotypes, mostly because they simplify women too damn much and partially because both of those types of women don't even care about taking the time to get educated.
Don't believe me?
"In 2007, [Wilson] completed the GED program."
You mean to tell me she had all that time, all that fame and money, and only recently bothered to get her GED? Ridiculous. And don't throw that "she comes from poverty, okay?" excuse at me, because if you want something hard enough, you'll do what it takes. My high school best friend came from poverty and frequently did not have enough money for essential things. There was no way in hell she could pay for college. But she worked hard and did what it took to be able to go. We've since fallen out, but if I'm correct she's still at college, working for her scholarships and loans. Do not tell me that Gretchen Wilson did not have the opportunity to go to a public high school where everything is funded for you and get her high school diploma.
Yes, I am intolerant of those who deliberately pass up education as an option and deride it as something for the elite. Education is for everyone. There is no excuse not to get one. Maybe it's my privilege speaking, but guess what? I went to public school too. I come from a lower-middle-class family who has had to strain and push for every penny we earn. There was no way my family could help me pay for college, and there was no way I could pay on my own. I had to bust my ass for scholarships and ended up landing a sweet one. I know what it's like to have to work hard in order to further myself.
Don't get me wrong. I don't hate this song because of Gretchen Wilson. I hate Gretchen Wilson because this song is a complete insult to any intelligent, thinking woman who uses her brain to do something other than hit the keg with the good ol' boys.
You might think I'm trashy
A little too hard core
Trashy? Yes. As for hardcore... darling, I know high school freshman more hardcore than you'll ever be. You are a woman who thinks "broad" is an acceptable term to call another woman. Any "down-home" thing you do is mostly to get the boys to love you because you aren't like those "sissy girls", undoubtably. There is absolutely nothing hardcore about you. Now go put that GED to some use, for the love of god.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Folgers, just leave the feminism to us. You go ahead and make your coffee.
Ye olde Folgers commercial (or alternatively, Pretty Wife, Icky Coffee)
I know, it's from the 60s, but honestly? This makes me want to break things.
Look, I understand that doing nice things for your husband or boyfriend or whatever is great and the key to a good relationship. I like doing nice things for people in general, so of course I try extra hard for someone that I love. But it's his disdain for her and the way he knocks her down that's so infuriating. "How can such a pretty wife... make such awful coffee?"
Ladies, that's the part where you stick your nose up in the air and say, "Then make it yourself, asswipe. You're the one drinking it."
Also: she's such a pretty wife! Who brings her man coffee! How delightful! Gag. Now I remember why I love actresses like Mae West so much. If everyone in the 60s was like that, I'd feel better about my daydream of living with the Rat Pack.
And all that matters is her coffee? I won't even go into that.
Therefore:
Dear future husband,
I recognize that you may like coffee. I like coffee too. So you see, I can make my coffee. If you don't like mine (why I don't know, as it's perfectly fine), make your own damn coffee. Easy, right?
Love,
Dominique
(That's assuming I make my own coffee and don't buy it at a coffeeshop, what with my penchant for chai lattes. Sheesh.)
I know, it's from the 60s, but honestly? This makes me want to break things.
Look, I understand that doing nice things for your husband or boyfriend or whatever is great and the key to a good relationship. I like doing nice things for people in general, so of course I try extra hard for someone that I love. But it's his disdain for her and the way he knocks her down that's so infuriating. "How can such a pretty wife... make such awful coffee?"
Ladies, that's the part where you stick your nose up in the air and say, "Then make it yourself, asswipe. You're the one drinking it."
Also: she's such a pretty wife! Who brings her man coffee! How delightful! Gag. Now I remember why I love actresses like Mae West so much. If everyone in the 60s was like that, I'd feel better about my daydream of living with the Rat Pack.
And all that matters is her coffee? I won't even go into that.
Therefore:
Dear future husband,
I recognize that you may like coffee. I like coffee too. So you see, I can make my coffee. If you don't like mine (why I don't know, as it's perfectly fine), make your own damn coffee. Easy, right?
Love,
Dominique
(That's assuming I make my own coffee and don't buy it at a coffeeshop, what with my penchant for chai lattes. Sheesh.)
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Yeah, it's cheap, so yeah, shut up.
Today is Celebrate Your Light Reading Day! Er, well, that's the focus of this post, anyway.
Some backstory: I have a weakness in my character for light, fluffy novels that don't need me to think about them too hard and just let me enjoy the ride. Commonly known as "chick lit", which I'm not sure if I dig, but to me it's all just easy reading. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love me some heavy stuff that challenges my viewpoint on the world and all, but sometimes you just need a palate cleanser. Promise, all of the books on today's post are just that.
To start off: most things by Meg Cabot are recommended highly, except for maybe The Princess Diaries because seriously, that series is overrated. I have the first three and Mia's voice gets annoying fast. I avoid it like the fucking plague. Her other stuff is much more interesting. I bought Avalon High a while back and I love it. It's Arthurian legend 101 in teenagerese. (Teenagerese: the voice and language of the current 14-17 year old set. Can be very enjoyable in moderation. Not to be confused with Juno-speak, which, though similar, is its own category.) Quick, satisfying, and if you love anything related to King Arthur, this is the easy read for you.
Another Meg Cabot book I love love love is The Boy Next Door. Mel's next-door neighbor has fallen into a coma, and walking her Great Dane Paco is interfering with Mel's work! Never fear, her neighbor's nephew, Max Friedlander has gallantly swooped in to take care of the dog and her two cats! But why does he insist that she call him John? And why do none of the rumors of Max Friendlander, Playboy About Town seem to match this laid-back, Grateful Dead-loving man? Prime example of easy romantic read - focus is on the romance, but there's a subplot that's also unfolding; it's charming and quirky and cute, and the romance is absolutely adorable, true to Cabot form. John is all too perfect. I'm just waiting for this to be made into a movie. (I will be first in line to buy tickets.)
Getting away from Meg Cabot, another easy rec is the Georgia Nicolson series by Louise Rennison, starting with Angus, Thongs, and Full-Frontal Snogging. Basically? Follows the life of crazy and wild teenager Georgia and her romantic ups and downs, not to mention her hilariously dysfunctional family. Rennison is a comedy writer, so these books are guaranteed to make you laugh out loud. They do it to me every time, and I've read and reread these books more times than I can count. Also, I can completely understand Georgia. Shaving off the eyebrows? Been there. (Okay, well, it was more like accidentally taking off a quarter of one, but still. You fuck up your eyebrows and trust me, everybody notices.)
On the teen-lit front, I just bought a book called Confessions of a Triple Shot Betty by Jody Gehrman. It's Much Ado About Nothing in teenagerese! I love it!! Considering Much Ado is only my favorite Shakespeare play ever, to see a teen remake of it made me squee out loud in the bookstore. (Yes, I am easily impressed.) So I shelled out the $16 for the hardcover copy and whaddya know? I love it. It's narrated by the Beatrice character, Geena, and oh my god her and Ben's romance is too adorable for words. I can't tell you how freaking cute this book was. See? Easy read, and adorable. Sometimes, it's just what you need. I mean, I could buy something artsy that pushes the limits of what's acceptable in prose and whatnot... but sometimes you just need to read a teen romance. It can't be helped.
To counteract all the teen books on here (what can I say, teen romances are the most adorable), I'll also rec Gods Behaving Badly by Marie Phillips. It's what American Gods would be without the philosophical musings, the implications of what America has become, the meaningfulness, and Neil Gaiman. It's light-hearted and witty, I'll give it that. The Greek gods exist, and they are the only gods, and they are losing their power. Also, Aphrodite is a phone-sex worker. (That's really the only job any of the gods have in the book that's worth mentioning.) It's funny and sarcastic, and if you want to take it seriously (which I don't), I'm sure an argument can be made to the effect of "how would the Greek gods find a niche in today's London?" - but then again, the same sort of thing was covered in American Gods to a much better effect.
Short and short of it? I'll always prefer American Gods, but Gods Behaving Badly kinda fits the myths of the gods' trickeries and capriciousness. I won't get into how the myths are supposed to be parables and not actual true stories of what the gods are like (I promised this would be short), but if you enjoy the Greek myths for entertainment, I think you'll like this. Also, it's really fun to watch Artemis wince every time someone talks about sex.
I have loads more books, because I am a sad, sad woman, but I'm pretty sure you can live off of these. As long as one is discerning about the fluff they read, you can find some damn good fluff out there. See: a lot of stuff they sell in airport terminals. You have no idea, the light fluffy books I find there. Easy read extrordinaire.
So go out, buy yourself a light novel, and then sit back and enjoy not having to think too hard. Everyone deserves a break now and again, right? Ta for now.
Some backstory: I have a weakness in my character for light, fluffy novels that don't need me to think about them too hard and just let me enjoy the ride. Commonly known as "chick lit", which I'm not sure if I dig, but to me it's all just easy reading. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love me some heavy stuff that challenges my viewpoint on the world and all, but sometimes you just need a palate cleanser. Promise, all of the books on today's post are just that.
To start off: most things by Meg Cabot are recommended highly, except for maybe The Princess Diaries because seriously, that series is overrated. I have the first three and Mia's voice gets annoying fast. I avoid it like the fucking plague. Her other stuff is much more interesting. I bought Avalon High a while back and I love it. It's Arthurian legend 101 in teenagerese. (Teenagerese: the voice and language of the current 14-17 year old set. Can be very enjoyable in moderation. Not to be confused with Juno-speak, which, though similar, is its own category.) Quick, satisfying, and if you love anything related to King Arthur, this is the easy read for you.
Another Meg Cabot book I love love love is The Boy Next Door. Mel's next-door neighbor has fallen into a coma, and walking her Great Dane Paco is interfering with Mel's work! Never fear, her neighbor's nephew, Max Friedlander has gallantly swooped in to take care of the dog and her two cats! But why does he insist that she call him John? And why do none of the rumors of Max Friendlander, Playboy About Town seem to match this laid-back, Grateful Dead-loving man? Prime example of easy romantic read - focus is on the romance, but there's a subplot that's also unfolding; it's charming and quirky and cute, and the romance is absolutely adorable, true to Cabot form. John is all too perfect. I'm just waiting for this to be made into a movie. (I will be first in line to buy tickets.)
Getting away from Meg Cabot, another easy rec is the Georgia Nicolson series by Louise Rennison, starting with Angus, Thongs, and Full-Frontal Snogging. Basically? Follows the life of crazy and wild teenager Georgia and her romantic ups and downs, not to mention her hilariously dysfunctional family. Rennison is a comedy writer, so these books are guaranteed to make you laugh out loud. They do it to me every time, and I've read and reread these books more times than I can count. Also, I can completely understand Georgia. Shaving off the eyebrows? Been there. (Okay, well, it was more like accidentally taking off a quarter of one, but still. You fuck up your eyebrows and trust me, everybody notices.)
On the teen-lit front, I just bought a book called Confessions of a Triple Shot Betty by Jody Gehrman. It's Much Ado About Nothing in teenagerese! I love it!! Considering Much Ado is only my favorite Shakespeare play ever, to see a teen remake of it made me squee out loud in the bookstore. (Yes, I am easily impressed.) So I shelled out the $16 for the hardcover copy and whaddya know? I love it. It's narrated by the Beatrice character, Geena, and oh my god her and Ben's romance is too adorable for words. I can't tell you how freaking cute this book was. See? Easy read, and adorable. Sometimes, it's just what you need. I mean, I could buy something artsy that pushes the limits of what's acceptable in prose and whatnot... but sometimes you just need to read a teen romance. It can't be helped.
To counteract all the teen books on here (what can I say, teen romances are the most adorable), I'll also rec Gods Behaving Badly by Marie Phillips. It's what American Gods would be without the philosophical musings, the implications of what America has become, the meaningfulness, and Neil Gaiman. It's light-hearted and witty, I'll give it that. The Greek gods exist, and they are the only gods, and they are losing their power. Also, Aphrodite is a phone-sex worker. (That's really the only job any of the gods have in the book that's worth mentioning.) It's funny and sarcastic, and if you want to take it seriously (which I don't), I'm sure an argument can be made to the effect of "how would the Greek gods find a niche in today's London?" - but then again, the same sort of thing was covered in American Gods to a much better effect.
Short and short of it? I'll always prefer American Gods, but Gods Behaving Badly kinda fits the myths of the gods' trickeries and capriciousness. I won't get into how the myths are supposed to be parables and not actual true stories of what the gods are like (I promised this would be short), but if you enjoy the Greek myths for entertainment, I think you'll like this. Also, it's really fun to watch Artemis wince every time someone talks about sex.
I have loads more books, because I am a sad, sad woman, but I'm pretty sure you can live off of these. As long as one is discerning about the fluff they read, you can find some damn good fluff out there. See: a lot of stuff they sell in airport terminals. You have no idea, the light fluffy books I find there. Easy read extrordinaire.
So go out, buy yourself a light novel, and then sit back and enjoy not having to think too hard. Everyone deserves a break now and again, right? Ta for now.
Monday, February 2, 2009
We're all Looking for Alaska, anyway
“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes 'Awww!'”
-Jack Kerouac
I love that quote. I always have. It describes everything I want to be in my life.
Alaska Young is that quote personified. There isn't any way I can describe her that does her any justice except that quote. She defies adjectives.
Looking for Alaska by John Green is like that quote. Miles is quirky in his own subdued, lethargic way, and still normal. He leaves life in Florida where nobody knows him to Culver Creek Boarding School in Alabama (hah, how utterly appropriate), where he rooms with Chip (the Colonel) and befriends Takumi, Lara, and Alaska.
Miles, or Pudge as the Colonel starts calling him ironically, is of course swept off his feet by Alaska. She's in her own league and dimension and mind. She's Edie Sedgwick, just in an Alabama boarding school. She is her own entity. How could she not sweep you off your feet?
The format immediately grabs your attention: there are two parts, Before and After. There is one central part to the book that is both shocking and obvious at the same time. Not hindsight-obvious, but just textbook, no-connotations obvious. And somehow it still shakes your world and starts the roaring in your ears, like every time it's ever happened in real life.
I had this whole post ready revolving around the climax and why it is that things like that always happen, but it really would spoil too much and I can't do that to anybody bothering to read this. So I'll save it for later, when you won't connect it to this book.
In my copy, there's a reading guide in the back. I want to rip it out and tear it to pieces. How can you make some trite reading guide about this book? It's fucking moving. It's honest and real and bewitching and surreal and true. It's like making a reading guide for The Things They Carried so your book club can try to make sense of it. I know, they always do that for books hitting on heavy stuff for teenagers, but that doesn't make it any less cheap and trite. It would be like a reading guide for Speak. Just... unthinkable. Maybe John Green thinks it's okay, but to me it just tries to cheapen the experience I got from this book.
(Yes, I am comparing it to The Things They Carried and Speak. The language is strongly reminiscent of both, but completely different and unique. The themes, though, are closer to the former. Also, both of those books changed my life.)
And you know what? I know he wrote it for high schoolers, but I can't imagine someone my age reading this and not being completely moved by it. Not moved like "oh man, I cried at Where the Red Fern Grows" or something, but... moved. I can't say it any other way. Sometimes there are no words for an experience. Maybe it wouldn't completely change the way my mother sees things or someone her age, but for the large age bracket that is my generation? It more than works.
So in case you didn't get the picture, buy this book. Don't just read it, buy it. It's mind-blowing, which is beautifully rare in young adult novels nowadays. Not a recommendation, an order. Buy it. Read it. And then maybe you'll really understand Jack Kerouac up there and why those people are the only things worth clinging to now.
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