I decided it had been far too long since I'd read a Jennifer Weiner book and when I found some time in between book club reads, but not enough to start and finish an entire book, I picked up The Guy Not Taken: Stories, a book of short - you guessed it - stories packed with the wit, charm, empathy, and great sense of humor that I've come to expect from Weiner, and why she is one of my favorite authors with Sophie Kinsella (Shopaholic and Baby got me through some very rough bouts of morning sickness. And she had a girl, too!! And, no, I've never seen the movie,. I've seen parts and know the plot and I think their depiction is a complete travesty.).
Weiner expertly walks the line - if one even exists between the two - between chick-lit and what book-snobs would consider respectable literature. Her stories, long or short, deliver laughs, sympathy, drama, romance, and a certain serious nature that results in you pondering long after you've read the acknowledgment (because you know you read every last page). The first few stories, for instance, center around a family that has suddenly split apart and the consequences - good and bad - are revealed. And even if we aren't going through something similar ourselves, we still find ourselves being able to relate in some fashion.
While I don't envision ever being detoured from reading one of Weiner's books, I do have to admit that I enjoyed the book less as I neared the end. I'm not exactly sure what the last story - about an elderly woman taken hostage and forced to vacation by two young teenagers - is trying to convey, it just sort of left me feeling depressed. I found myself surprised at this, but it made me want to get back to reading one of her novels, where I really thinks she really shines (she does write incredibly funny Tweets about The Bachelor and Bachelorette, but because I can't watch live with her and I don't want to spoil it for myself, I avoid her Tweets like the plague).
So I picked up Goodnight Nobody.
Friday, July 5, 2013
Mockingjay
Suzanne Collins' Mockingjay was one of the first books I read this year, and I think I waited so long to review it because I have absolutely no idea where to begin.
To say this series blew me a way is an understatement. And don't even get me started on how it's classified as a YOUNG ADULT series. I mean, seriously?!
I'm ashamed to admit that I actually forgot I hadn't finished the Hunger Games series until something unmemorable triggered my mom-brain memory (as in, I have none), and Mer gasped and said, "You still haven't read that?! I'm bringing my book over right now so you can finish it. The third is absolutely my favorite." And she wasn't wrong; in my book of books, the final installment of the Hunger Games was absolutely the best, most worth the effort, and second easiest to plow through behind the first. Finally, everything I had hoped for in the first and expected in the second, was finally happening in the third.
Completely unaware of the goings-on behind the scenes, Katniss miraculously escapes her second Hunger Games on the side of the "good guys." Or did she...? Peeta has been captured by the Capitol to be used as a pawn in these larger-than-the-Hunger-Games games, and Gale is weird and distant, a far cry from the one person she could count on and trust. Expecting and motivated to hit the front lines of the now-emerged civil war, Katniss' role in the unrest is largely trophy-ish, a symbol used by the rebels to remember what they're fighting for. As the reader, I had hoped for more scenes from the fighting but that doesn't mean everything Katniss was up to wasn't heart-palpitating and breath-taking and, well, game-changing.
Reading this reminded me a lot of what Mer said about Game of Thrones; the good guys are the bad guys, the bad guys are the good guys, and you never know which is which, even as the story nears a dramatic and horrifying end. If nothing else, this story shines a bright light on the inter workings of war, the evil that is at the heart, and the coming together of people who believe they deserve better for themselves. And, if nothing else, provides a clear warning message for our future.
In general, stories of the post-apocalyptic nature provide us with a waning self-assurance of, that will never happen to us/our country/our world. But I firmly believe the Hunger Games provides more of a foreshadowing then we care to admit, taking into account the large consumption of reality TV we can't steer clear of, and the large degree of human suffering we find it easy to turn our heads away from. The way our current media sensationalizes every gruesome crime is the major foundation to our own Hunger Games, I just hope we never start to fear our power-hungry government more than we hate them.
Thursday, July 4, 2013
Ask Again Later
It has been several years since I've read one of Jill A. Davis comedic masterpieces, of which I remember laughing out loud in a room full of people with my nose buried in Girls Poker Night. To this day, I can't even tell you what it was about, but certain lines about trying to gain admittance to a mental hospital, and a quick one-liner about suicide with a blow dryer stick out prominently in my brain. I can't tell if it's because I'm older and arguably wiser and less gullible, or if Davis really isn't as funny as I previously thought. And that was long before I ever tried smoking weed.
Ask Again Later is your typical young-woman-trying-to-find-herself chick lit littered with absolutely ridiculous scenarios that make you laugh out loud in that "WTF?!" kind of way. I wouldn't say it was the best book I've ever read - certainly not the funniest and I have yet to read anything by the All Mighty David Sedaris - but it wasn't a complete waste of time, either. It made me appreciate my boring, married-with-children life and made me wonder how necessary it is to have chick-lit in my literary life right now. Like rom-com movies, most romance novels, and porn, once you've seen/read one, you've read/seen 'em all. The random twists Davis peppers throughout the generally hum-drum story definitely keeps you on your toes, though, is much appreciated, and keeps the 240ish paperback pages turning.
Written as if we've secretly picked up a stranger's diary, we're led down a wandering path of a woman who has absolutely no idea what she's doing, where's she's going, or what her basic interests are. It reminds me of Runaway Bride when she has no idea how she prefers her eggs. By the end, we're not really sure if she's figured anything out, just that her life will continue in less of an up-heaved kind of way. So, good for her.
Ask Again Later is your typical young-woman-trying-to-find-herself chick lit littered with absolutely ridiculous scenarios that make you laugh out loud in that "WTF?!" kind of way. I wouldn't say it was the best book I've ever read - certainly not the funniest and I have yet to read anything by the All Mighty David Sedaris - but it wasn't a complete waste of time, either. It made me appreciate my boring, married-with-children life and made me wonder how necessary it is to have chick-lit in my literary life right now. Like rom-com movies, most romance novels, and porn, once you've seen/read one, you've read/seen 'em all. The random twists Davis peppers throughout the generally hum-drum story definitely keeps you on your toes, though, is much appreciated, and keeps the 240ish paperback pages turning.
Written as if we've secretly picked up a stranger's diary, we're led down a wandering path of a woman who has absolutely no idea what she's doing, where's she's going, or what her basic interests are. It reminds me of Runaway Bride when she has no idea how she prefers her eggs. By the end, we're not really sure if she's figured anything out, just that her life will continue in less of an up-heaved kind of way. So, good for her.
Monday, May 20, 2013
Beyond Belief: My Secret Life Inside Scientology and My Harrowing Escape
From the very first paragraph, nothing more aptly describes
Jenna Miscavige Hill’s Beyond Belief:My Secret Life Inside Scientology and My Harrowing Escape than “beyond belief.”
Growing up in the throes of Scientology, first as an outsider then as a full-fledged participant as her parents got more immersed in the “religion,” Hill’s experience was confusing, contemplative, mysterious, and anxiety-ridden all rolled in to one, which, excuse me if I’m wrong, isn’t supposed to be the epitome of religious epicenters as it so claims. As a disclaimer, I warn you my review is biased and largely tainted by my new-found Scientology education and I could very possibly come across hostile and I completely mean to.
Jenna’s life started as most of ours do – school, friends, chores, relatively stable home-life with most of the activities and minutia we civilians – or Wogs as we’re referred to by Scientologists – take for granted. Her grandfather played a prominent role in the founding of Scientology, thereby forcing his son, Jenna’s father, into the organization. Generally against it, Jenna and her siblings began their childhood, like I said, as most do. At some point, however, her father decided Scientology was the way to go and packed up the family to live in what I can only describe as a very underdeveloped compound.
Separated from her family for extended periods of time, only getting to see her parents at most an hour each week, Jenna’s “schooling” consisted of learning via memorization of L. Ron Hubbard’s “teachings,” emotion control, and manual labor to restore “The Ranch,” a California desert expanse of dilapidated buildings that was to one day be a major hub of Scientology.
Predominantly reminding me of a very brief reality show in which kids lived in a replicated old Western town and we got to watch what would happen if the world was left up to children, adults were often absent from The Ranch, but neither adults or fellow children could be trusted. As part of the higher class of the "church," Jenna was constantly scrutinized, monitored, questioned, and even punished for indiscretions she was often completely unaware of.
Hill explained early on the the founders of Scientology learned they could be an organization without religious affiliation and avoid some such tax law, but what the public is actually funding is nothing more than a cult. With no god(s), idols, deities, prayers, ceremonies, or anything involving anything spiritual, how exactly does it fall under the religious umbrella?
Operating on a belief of sort-of reincarnation, Scientology is based largely on the amount of control we have over ourselves and emotions; thus more supernatural than spiritual, as supposed previous lives are thrown into the mix. Scientology is of a fundamentalist nature based largely on the treatment of their members and the lengths they'll go to avoid scandal.
It's a benefit to the book that the baseline story is interesting as the writing would have caused me to put it down barely a third of the way into it. Written accompanied by another author, it is definitely obvious who wrote what.
The content alone is enough to keep you reading. But it's frustrating at times, hard to witness Jenna's treatment then subsequent devotion to to a group who didn't want to keep her but couldn't get rid of her and ultimately didn't know what to do with her. More than one thing will boggle your mind as you have this front-row seat to the largest (at least one of?) government subsidized cult.
Growing up in the throes of Scientology, first as an outsider then as a full-fledged participant as her parents got more immersed in the “religion,” Hill’s experience was confusing, contemplative, mysterious, and anxiety-ridden all rolled in to one, which, excuse me if I’m wrong, isn’t supposed to be the epitome of religious epicenters as it so claims. As a disclaimer, I warn you my review is biased and largely tainted by my new-found Scientology education and I could very possibly come across hostile and I completely mean to.
Jenna’s life started as most of ours do – school, friends, chores, relatively stable home-life with most of the activities and minutia we civilians – or Wogs as we’re referred to by Scientologists – take for granted. Her grandfather played a prominent role in the founding of Scientology, thereby forcing his son, Jenna’s father, into the organization. Generally against it, Jenna and her siblings began their childhood, like I said, as most do. At some point, however, her father decided Scientology was the way to go and packed up the family to live in what I can only describe as a very underdeveloped compound.
Separated from her family for extended periods of time, only getting to see her parents at most an hour each week, Jenna’s “schooling” consisted of learning via memorization of L. Ron Hubbard’s “teachings,” emotion control, and manual labor to restore “The Ranch,” a California desert expanse of dilapidated buildings that was to one day be a major hub of Scientology.
Predominantly reminding me of a very brief reality show in which kids lived in a replicated old Western town and we got to watch what would happen if the world was left up to children, adults were often absent from The Ranch, but neither adults or fellow children could be trusted. As part of the higher class of the "church," Jenna was constantly scrutinized, monitored, questioned, and even punished for indiscretions she was often completely unaware of.
Hill explained early on the the founders of Scientology learned they could be an organization without religious affiliation and avoid some such tax law, but what the public is actually funding is nothing more than a cult. With no god(s), idols, deities, prayers, ceremonies, or anything involving anything spiritual, how exactly does it fall under the religious umbrella?
Operating on a belief of sort-of reincarnation, Scientology is based largely on the amount of control we have over ourselves and emotions; thus more supernatural than spiritual, as supposed previous lives are thrown into the mix. Scientology is of a fundamentalist nature based largely on the treatment of their members and the lengths they'll go to avoid scandal.
It's a benefit to the book that the baseline story is interesting as the writing would have caused me to put it down barely a third of the way into it. Written accompanied by another author, it is definitely obvious who wrote what.
The content alone is enough to keep you reading. But it's frustrating at times, hard to witness Jenna's treatment then subsequent devotion to to a group who didn't want to keep her but couldn't get rid of her and ultimately didn't know what to do with her. More than one thing will boggle your mind as you have this front-row seat to the largest (at least one of?) government subsidized cult.
Friday, May 17, 2013
The Great (??) Gatsby
Committing the ultimate faux pas in book-reviewing (ok, really on in my anal-retentive mind), I'm book-jumping to squeeze in The Great Gatsby during its 15-minutes of popularity due to the latest Leonardo DiCaprio movie. Go figure.
Hailed as one of the greatest works of fiction - and F. Scott Fitgerald's - The Great Gatsby is a story of complete and utter absorption, from the main character, Nick's, preoccupation with the ostentation neighbor, to Gatsby's unhealthy infatuation with a woman he knew long ago, Daisy. The intense imagery and plethora of metaphors transport the reader back to a different era that keeps them plenty occupied while they wait for the actual story to begin.
Just shy of halfway through the short 180-pages, the story actually begins; a pretty messed up one at that. More of a short story, Fitzgerald's tale lack a lot of the drama, mystery, and mystique we've come to know and love with contemporary novels. Just as quick as the story begins, it's over and we're left wondering why we were participatory.
The span of several months, and even years, reads much like the length of only one day, and our knowledge of the main character - our accomplice, if you will - is startlingly limited. Even our knowledge of the would-be main character, Gatsby, is rather limited and sporadic and is seems like we're only left with the attributes of him that are grossly unflattering and downright sad. DiCaprio's Gatsby, however, will no doubt melt even the coldest hearts to pools of rich butter while his predecessor couldn't melt anyone's, even with a hearty helping of the finest champagne, the finest food money can buy, a mansion, and an air of mysterious, intriguing, possibly troubling past.
For most, this was required high school reading and in the beginning I could for the life of me fathom why; "spectroscopic gayety," really?! And, "...[she] began to cry stormily. 'They're sure beautiful shirts. It makes me sad because I've never seen such beautiful shirts before.'" Then, as the story gets moving, I realized walking through the world of The Great Gatsby (more specifically, his somewhat nosy neighbor) is an over-analytical individual's utopia. What better way to waste an hour than sit in a classroom and hypothesize why this book takes us through the various twists and turns, and analyze the supposed symbolism in the plenitude of metaphors? Perhaps, then, I might have liked and appreciated it more, and why my friends who did read it in high school think it's "AMAZING."
This might be the very first case where I enjoy the movie considerably more than the book. At least if the story is told equally as bad, I'll get to preoccupy myself with looking at all the pretty outfits.
Hailed as one of the greatest works of fiction - and F. Scott Fitgerald's - The Great Gatsby is a story of complete and utter absorption, from the main character, Nick's, preoccupation with the ostentation neighbor, to Gatsby's unhealthy infatuation with a woman he knew long ago, Daisy. The intense imagery and plethora of metaphors transport the reader back to a different era that keeps them plenty occupied while they wait for the actual story to begin.
Just shy of halfway through the short 180-pages, the story actually begins; a pretty messed up one at that. More of a short story, Fitzgerald's tale lack a lot of the drama, mystery, and mystique we've come to know and love with contemporary novels. Just as quick as the story begins, it's over and we're left wondering why we were participatory.
The span of several months, and even years, reads much like the length of only one day, and our knowledge of the main character - our accomplice, if you will - is startlingly limited. Even our knowledge of the would-be main character, Gatsby, is rather limited and sporadic and is seems like we're only left with the attributes of him that are grossly unflattering and downright sad. DiCaprio's Gatsby, however, will no doubt melt even the coldest hearts to pools of rich butter while his predecessor couldn't melt anyone's, even with a hearty helping of the finest champagne, the finest food money can buy, a mansion, and an air of mysterious, intriguing, possibly troubling past.
For most, this was required high school reading and in the beginning I could for the life of me fathom why; "spectroscopic gayety," really?! And, "...[she] began to cry stormily. 'They're sure beautiful shirts. It makes me sad because I've never seen such beautiful shirts before.'" Then, as the story gets moving, I realized walking through the world of The Great Gatsby (more specifically, his somewhat nosy neighbor) is an over-analytical individual's utopia. What better way to waste an hour than sit in a classroom and hypothesize why this book takes us through the various twists and turns, and analyze the supposed symbolism in the plenitude of metaphors? Perhaps, then, I might have liked and appreciated it more, and why my friends who did read it in high school think it's "AMAZING."
This might be the very first case where I enjoy the movie considerably more than the book. At least if the story is told equally as bad, I'll get to preoccupy myself with looking at all the pretty outfits.
Sunday, April 21, 2013
Sharp Objects
There was a lot of chatter about Gillian Flynn's Gone Girl within the book club and - as I later realized - all over the non-literary world (not book-snobs, just people who can appreciate a good book). My friend - you all know and love her - Mer, read it and after reading a few chapters of Sharp Objects, decided Flynn needed serious psychological help. As most of the group had read Gone Girl, we opted to read Sharp Objects, which was equally dark and disturbing, but lacked Gone Girl's humor so the reader just ended up feeling...violated...by the end.
Don't get me wrong, Sharp Objects is such an amazing story that Flynn should be praised for her creativity by the best of mental health professionals as she's strapped so a bed in a padded room (ok, I'm slightly biased since I have also read Gone Girl). We follow a woman, Camille, who is fresh out from just some situation because she was addicted to cutting herself; although not in the traditional way. Her obsession was of a different nature that also happened to correspond with her career as a reporter.
As her first assignment, she is to return to her hometown and cover the murders of two pre-teen girls. That means, of course, confronting the demons of her own past. One such demon in human form is her half-sister, who is the very definition of creepy.
Like most whodunits you've read, the killer seems obvious, but - as you also know - things aren't always that simple. The beauty of Flynn's storytelling, though, is that she's able to plot the most basic of stories - by that I mean a lack of overly dramatic emotion - with incredible intricacies, complexities, and - naturally - the creepy twist you never saw coming.
It is definitely a book you can read in a weekend, but you may need to put it down every once in awhile just to reassure yourself you don't live in this perpetually-grey world Flynn has made so vivid. I'll be honest - I felt taxed.
Don't get me wrong, Sharp Objects is such an amazing story that Flynn should be praised for her creativity by the best of mental health professionals as she's strapped so a bed in a padded room (ok, I'm slightly biased since I have also read Gone Girl). We follow a woman, Camille, who is fresh out from just some situation because she was addicted to cutting herself; although not in the traditional way. Her obsession was of a different nature that also happened to correspond with her career as a reporter.
As her first assignment, she is to return to her hometown and cover the murders of two pre-teen girls. That means, of course, confronting the demons of her own past. One such demon in human form is her half-sister, who is the very definition of creepy.
Like most whodunits you've read, the killer seems obvious, but - as you also know - things aren't always that simple. The beauty of Flynn's storytelling, though, is that she's able to plot the most basic of stories - by that I mean a lack of overly dramatic emotion - with incredible intricacies, complexities, and - naturally - the creepy twist you never saw coming.
It is definitely a book you can read in a weekend, but you may need to put it down every once in awhile just to reassure yourself you don't live in this perpetually-grey world Flynn has made so vivid. I'll be honest - I felt taxed.
What I Was Reading February 3rd
Former Navy SEAL Fatally Shot at Texas Shooting Range
Black Delegate Decides Against Va. GOP's Redistricting Map
The 'E-Nup' Contract I Want All My Facebook & E-mail Friends to Sign
Boehner Steadies Republican Team, Reframes Deficit Debate
I've been a real book-nerd this year so I'm hoping to eventually find the second - and motivation - to write some reviews. If you have any extra, send it my way!
Black Delegate Decides Against Va. GOP's Redistricting Map
The 'E-Nup' Contract I Want All My Facebook & E-mail Friends to Sign
Boehner Steadies Republican Team, Reframes Deficit Debate
I've been a real book-nerd this year so I'm hoping to eventually find the second - and motivation - to write some reviews. If you have any extra, send it my way!
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