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Archive for October, 2008

Pig-nosed Wonder

Penelope

Awww.  This was sweet.  Back in what looks to be the Victorian era, a rich man knocks up his servant girl.  He wants to marry her, but his family basically laughs off the suggestion, and the servant girl throws herself off a cliff (that, or she falls over because her giant pregnant belly overbalances her.  As my sister pointed out, it’s sort of hard to tell).  Unfortunately for the rich guy and his family, the girl’s mother happens to be the village witch, and she curses the people who shunned her child:  their first-born daughter will be born with the nose of a pig, and the Nose will stay until someone of her own class can accept her as she is.  The family dodges the curse for a few generations by having nothing but boys (and one little girl who was actually the milkman’s), but their number is up when Penelope (Christina Ricci) is born. 

After plastic surgery attempts are thwarted–it is a curse, after all–Penelope’s mother fakes her daughter’s death and locks her up at the family estate.  On Penelope’s eighteenth birthday, her mom begins trying to matchmake; several years later, she’s still at it.  Penelope is sick of the whole business, but her mother is completely, insanely driven to lift the curse, and keeps forcing more and more suitors on her.  They finally seem to be making headway when Penelope meets Max, a compulsive gambler who’s being employed by a reporter who has reason to wish the family ill:  two decades before, Penelope’s mom accidentally put out his eye while he was trying to take Penelope’s picture. 

Yeeeeeah, that’s not going to end well.

I liked this a lot, because it’s a simple little fairy tale and Christina Ricci is ADORABLE with a pig nose.  The only complaint I had was that they way overused the term “blueblood” to describe the upper echelons of society–but even I can admit that that’s relatively minor.

Recommended for:  Anyone who liked the movie Stardust, anyone who ever wanted to be a Disney princess.

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*Shivers*

It was actually gorgeous out today (yesterday?  WordPress doesn’t believe in East Coast time, so far as I can tell).  However, it was colder than a well digger’s ass, as my dad likes to say.  And so:  some more effing flowers.

That’s a downed bird bath beside them.  Before it met its utimely end, my meanest cat liked to sit inside it and intimidate the local fowl.  Awwww, Sophie.  Never met a mockingbird she didn’t want to eat.

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Melusine

Sarah Monette, Melusine

 

In the fantastical city of Melusine, two very different narrators tell us about their daily trials and travails.  There’s Felix, the former gutter prostitute turned aristocratic wizard; there’s also Mildmay the Fox, the former assassin turned cat burglar.

 

Mildmay’s transformation?  Slightly less of a stretch.

 

Anyway, Mildmay’s story starts off with a frankly unimportant (in this book, at least) recounting of his relationship with a hot chick.  I know, I know, Monette wants to show us “how he got mixed up in all of this,” but seriously:  Ginevra is, at least so far, connected to the central storyline only in the sense that her shenanigans motivate Mildmay to change his life course.  Otherwise, she’s kind of narrative deadweight.  And since she accounts for like, the first third or so of Mildmay’s narration, that’s a lot of deadweight.

 

Felix’s story, on the other hand, gets straight to the point:  one minute he’s swanning around with his aristocratic lovaaaaah, and the next minute the entire court knows that he was a hooker.  Within fifteen minutes of that, he’s shame-spiralled far enough that he’s already back in the clutches of Malkar, his former owner/teacher/rapist.  His story, it is quite the whirlwind.  So Malkar lures Felix back in, and then uses his magic to break the Virtu, which (so far as I can tell) is basically a gigantic focus for all of Melusine’s magic users.  Then he puts a binding spell on Felix so that he can’t talk, blames the whole thing on him, and rides merrily off into the sunset.  Oh, and by the way?  All this magical wtfery has left Felix INSANE in the membrane.  Which he is for effectively the rest of the book, rendering his narration VERY TIRESOME.

 

So with one character, it takes forever for anything to happen, and with another character, everything happens in the first forty pages and then it’s CRAZY TIME ALL THE TIME for the rest of the book.  Oh, and I haven’t even gotten to the sex!magic yet.  Jesus God, people, I HATE THE SEX!MAGIC.  Personally, I feel that sex!magic is about as successful a combo as sex and food; in both cases, things just end kind of messy and ludicrous.  For example:  the spell Malkar casts to break the Virtu essentially consisted of chaining Felix to the floor and raping him.  Which should have been horrifying, but mostly wound up being hilarious.  Because Felix is all, “I saw like, burning gods and azure skies, and then he thrust again and I saw the Virtu!”  Okay…seriously?  I think someone shared an acid trip with Anne Bishop, because that is about one step away from magic cock ring territory. 

 

Just…just don’t, guys.  When it comes to the sex!magic, just say no.  Because I know y’all think it’s all great and primal and raw, but I have bad news for you:  sex?  Sex is innately ridiculous.  There are strange noises and weird faces and it’s just not a terribly dignified affair, if you know what I mean.  It may very well be sacred and wonderful to those involved, but to an outside observer?  It’s either hot, disturbing, or ridiculous–and of the three options, it’s usually the last.  I know Monette wanted it to be disturbing, but, well, she failed.  Hard.  Most writers do.

 

…it doesn’t help, either, that I don’t think her understanding of gay sex is really all that solid.  Without going into specifics (because my use of the f-word already brings too many mouth-breathers here in search of “good times,” by which I mean the pr0n), I just…well.  All I gotta say is, some of the things she mentions would work a whole lot better if Felix were a girl.  Ahem.

 

So, having bashed this old school and hardcore, I’m…still going to read the sequels.  I mean, it was long-winded and frankly ridiculous in places, and Monette’s writing is pretty much the embodiment of this cartoon, but I really liked Mildmay.  Any narrator who regularly exclaims, “Fuck me sideways until I cry!” is fine by me, friends.

 

Recommended for:  anyone with a reasonable tolerance for fantasy that takes itself too seriously.  Also, anyone who can maintain their composure during the sex!magic!  Or anyone who finds it hilarious.  You know, whichever.

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This one’s a Confederate Rose.  I don’t know why it’s called that–it doesn’t particularly look like a rose to me, frankly.  Cool botanical fact:  it’s white when it first blooms, and then changes to pink later.

Taken in the middle of a rainstorm in the summer of 2007.

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Ann Fessler, The Girls Who Went Away

Fessler, the adopted daughter of an adopted daughter, set out to interview mothers who had given their children up for adoption before abortion was legalized.  This book weaves those interviews together with historical information to place the stories in context.  And the context, it is grim.  During the years following the second World War, sexual activity among unmarried women skyrocketed; society, unfortunately, did not keep pace.  The birth control pill was not available for widespread use until like, 1970, condoms usually had to be purchased from the neighborhood pharmacist (who was likely to call your parents), diaphragms required a doctor’s visit, and–and this is the real kicker–it was illegal to distribute birth control to unmarried people.  Furthermore, schools of the era did abstinence-only education one better and usually didn’t teach anything at all.  If you were lucky, you might learn about frog sex in school, but many of the women Fessler interviewed admitted that until they actually had babies, they weren’t real clear on the whole process.  One woman recalled solemnly asking her mother how the doctors would remove the mark from her stomach after she gave birth; she was about to be a mother, and she had no idea that babies are born vaginally. 

So yes.  No birth control, no sex-ed–total recipe for disaster, right?  And it got worse.  For pretty much all the women Fessler interviewed, adoption was presented as their only choice.  Even women who always wanted to keep their babies–and many did–were told that their children would have horrible lives if they stayed with their birth mothers.  They’d be poor, they’d be bastards, their lives and their mothers’ lives would be ruined.  Give the baby up, the logic went, and you’ll forget about it.  It’ll have nice parents, you won’t be labeled damaged goods, everyone will be happy.  The only problem was, that logic never took into account the girls’ feelings for their babies:  even women who had managed to disassociate for the entire nine months reported feeling wrecked and destroyed when their babies were born and taken from them.  Many women tried to renege on the adoption, only to be told that if they did, they would have to pay back the entire cost of their stay in a maternity home, their hospital bills, their mandated sessions with their social workers–everything.  Since these girls by and large had no means of support other than their parents (who usually refused to pay for “the little bastard”) and had little understanding of things like welfare, the debt was usually crushing enough to prevent them from reclaiming their babies. 

This is a fine book, a worthy book, a book that I think everyone really needs to read before they start weighing in on adoption, abortion, or anything related to the politics of reproduction.  But it is not a perfect book by any stretch of the imagination.  While Fessler does eventually point out that the women she interviewed were, for a number of sociological reasons, largely white and middle class, it took her a few chapters before she spelled that shit out.  Also, Fessler includes a huge number of quotes from her interview responders as well as the full text of two interviews at the end of each chapter.  That’s great–you certainly can’t accuse her of marginalizing these women–but it also made for some serious repetition.  One of the women Fessler interviewed made the very valid point that there was practically a baby-stealing script, and it’s true:  the more stories you hear, the more they sound the same.  And I mean, I found it all very compelling and couldn’t put the book down, but I definitely got frustrated with Fessler at some points and just wanted to say, “We. Get.  The.  Point.  Now can we move on, please?”  All in all, I think this book could have benefited from more organization and a meaner editor, but still.  It really is a must-read.

Recommended for:  Everyone.

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…here’s a picture of some flowers in my mom’s garden.  Taken the summer before last.

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Snoozeville

21

I rented this without realizing it was a Kevin Spacey movie–which is a good thing, because if I had known?  Let’s just say that my Spacey track record isn’t that great.  Take a gander: 

  • American Beauty:  Creepy and sanctimonious
  • The Life of David Gale:  Creepy and sanctimonious
  • Pay It Forward:  Simply sanctimonious
  • The Usual Suspects:  Good, but only because (for once) they didn’t let him play anyone creepy and sanctimonious.

21 wasn’t particularly creepy or even that much more sanctimonious than your typical Hollywood morality play; it was worse.  It was boring.  Not only was it boring–it was stupendously, unbelievably boring.  And more than faintly ridiculous.  From the moment the movie began with Jim Sturgess solemnly intoning, “Winner, winner, chicken dinner,” I knew we were in trouble.  And boy, was I ever right.

So, the premise is this:  Ben Campbell (Sturgess) is a smarty pants who’s majoring in pre-med at MIT; he wants to go to Haaaaaaaaaaavaaaaard Medical School, but needs a scholarship to cover the fees (frankly, who among us wouldn’t?).  Ben’s smart and has a great resume, but it–and he–lack punch.  When he talks to an official affiliated with the scholarship board at the beginning of the movie, Scholarship Dude gives him the hard truth:  if they’re going to hand someone 300,000, that motherfucker’s gotta SHINE. 

In other words:  dance, monkey.  DANCE.

Ben’s all sad, because he can’t dance doesn’t “dazzle.”  And this is where the movie really fell apart, because it’s true:  Sturgess is the blandest, most charisma-less actor I have ever seen in a major studio movie.  I certainly didn’t want to give him 300,000 dollars, and this is the guy I’m supposed to be identifying with?  Shit. 

Anyway, Ben needs money, but he’s boring, blah blah blah, way too much exposition, and then!  Kevin Spacey is a math professor who runs a secret team of blackjack scam artists!  And he wants Ben to join!  Because Ben is smarter than Isaac Newton!  And then we spend the rest of the movie watching Ben and Kate Bosworth try to pretend that they have chemistry.  Seriously, y’all, it was like watching two sloths trying to mate:  snoozeville.  Occasionally Aaron Yoo would walk around stealing shit and generally giving off an air of “I’m too good for this movie–why am I stuck being the loopy sidekick again?  Oh, wait.  I forgot.  BECAUSE I’M ASIAN.”  Those minutes made the movie sort of bearable, except not; I mean, I love Aaron Yoo, but I’m starting to feel really, really sorry for him, and that’s totally harshing my buzz whenever I see him.

But I digress. 

So first Ben’s all, “Noooo!  I can’t join the team.”  But then he realizes that money is nice, so he does.  And then he becomes their best player (of course), but then he gets too big for his britches and loses all their money one weekend (of course), and Kevin Spacey is just like, “You are under the mistaken impression that I give a shit about any of you.  GIVE ME MONEY BACK, BITCH.”  And then…I just fast-forwarded, because let’s face it:  I knew exactly what was going to happen.  Ben was going to go out on his own, win some money, and then get it all taken from him by the big black enforcer guy played by Laurence Fishburne (Laurence!  Great to see ya!  Except, kinda wish it had been under better circumstances…).  And yea verily, when I got to the end of the DVD?  THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED.

I AM AMAZING…ly good at discerning the TOTALLY OBVIOUS.

In conclusion:   I should have known better than to rent this, since it got slammed before it ever debuted for being whitewashed.  And yet, I still Went There.  Why?  Dunno.  I was bored.  I like blackjack.  IT SEEMED LIKE A GOOD IDEA AT THE TIME, OKAY? 

Okay. 

Recommended for:  Oh god, don’t even joke.

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Ballet Shoes

This weekend, I wanted to go see Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist, partially because I read the book and loved it, and partially because I keep being thwarted.  I’ve told my boyfriend, my roommate, and even my MOM that I want to see that damn movie, and each and every one of them’s gone, “Eh.”  I can understand it in my boyfriend’s case, because he’s long since fulfilled the “Two chick flicks or a performance of the Vagina Monologues” agreement that we struck after he traumatized me with Rambo. My mom, too, gets a by–cause she’s my mom, and I figure she’s sat through enough Disney movies and whatnot over the last 23 years to earn my forgiveness for everything short of accidental decapitation.  My roommate, however, is totally on my shitlist over this one.  She’s all, “Oh, it looks cute, but I don’t think it’s worth paying theater prices for.”  Which sounds reasonable on the surface, until you consider the fact that this is the same girl who made a Livejournal entry not five days ago trying to cajole her friends into seeing W with her .

Yeah, you read that right:  motherfucking W.

So to make a long story short, I decided to go see Nick and Norah by my lonesome. And then when I woke up Saturday morning…okay, fine–when I woke up on Saturday afternoon and checked the showtimes, I realized that they’d kicked it out of the theater closest to my house.  Which, since I don’t own a car and the buses don’t run on Saturday in this barbarous county, meant that I couldn’t see it.

DAMMIT!

There was a little rending of clothes and gnashing of teeth, but then I decided to just rent a couple of movies I’d been meaning to see.  I threatened my roommate with the Nancy Drew movie, but I didn’t follow through because Ballet Shoes caught my eye instead.

Ballet Shoes was originally a novel by Noel Streatfield.  It’s pretty old–written in the thirties, I think–and although it’s evidently still popular enough to spawn a feature film in England, I’ve never met another American woman my age who’s read it.  Which is a shame, because it was really very cute and starred the Fossil sisters, plucky orphans with horrifying names like Pauline, Petrova, and Posy.  Their surname comes from the fact that Gum, the man who adopted them, is a paleontologist (although I don’t know that Streatfield used that term).  None of them are actually related.  Gum and Pauline’s parents were on a ship together; when the boat sank, Gum and Pauline survived, but her parents drowned.  Gum brought Petrova back from Russia, and picked Posy up from a feckless ballerina.  He left them all in the care of Garnie, his great niece, who was herself orphaned and came to live with Gum as a child.  After depositing Posy with Garnie, Gum went on his merry way–Gum was always going on his merry way, as evidenced by the fact that he kept bringing children back from as far afield as freaking RUSSIA.  Anyway, he left, but he made sure they had enough money for the next few years; the only problem was, those years passed, and he didn’t return.  Leaving Garnie with three little girls, a huge house, no job skills, and no more money.

In an effort to make ends meet, Garnie takes the girls out of school and rents out rooms in the house, but it’s hardly an ideal situation; Petrova runs circles around her mathematically, and she’s like, ten (in the book.  In the movie, the actress is about sixteen).  Fortunately, because this is a children’s book/children’s movie, all of the boarders are very kindly.  Two old ladies turn out to be doctors of mathematics and literature, and offer to teach the girls for free; the dance teacher who lives downstairs fixes the girls up at a good stage academy so that they can earn money while they’re still children–and the garage owner lets mechanically-inclined Petrova help out with his cars.

The movie differs from the book in only one major way:  in the book, Petrova is taken under the wing of a nice married couple who boards with the Fossil family.  In the movie, though, the man is unmarried and serves as a love interest for Garnie.  Which is nice, because frankly, even as a little girl I felt kind of sorry for Garnie.  She was this meek little creature who spent her whole life living with her great uncle and her nanny, and then wound up fostering three little girls and tearing her hair out trying to make ends meet.  Unfair!  At least in the movie she gets a little action.

All in all, I thought the film was pretty cute.  I disliked a few things–primarily the fact that they aged both Pauline and Petrova’s characters.  It’s not a big deal if you never read the book, but if you did, then you know that some of the stress the girls felt stemmed from the fact that in the thirties, you had to be 12 years old before you could go onstage; basically, until their twelfth birthdays, none of the girls could make any money.  Pauline and Petrova were both played by girls in their late teens, however, so there went that.  Also, the little girl who played Posy was not a natural redhead–and that’s fine, but her dye job was BEYOND unbelievable.  Y’all, I’ve had that very same color on my head, and it came out of a package of dye that cost me 9.99.  I know the BBC does things on a budget, but DAMN.  And finally, the ending sequence involves a spinning globe and a wee little airplane flying a circle around it.  RIDICULOUS.

Nevertheless, it was very cute.  I liked it a lot as an adult, and I would have LOVED it as a little girl.

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Restraint

Restraint 

An Aussie thriller about a trailer-trash couple who takes an upper-crusty sort of fellow hostage in his own home.  My friend rented this because it looked gleefully trashy, but it was actually really awesome:  it had some excellent performances, good writing, good production values, and it was WICKED tense.  Restraint was violent without being gory, and it was frightening without being mindlessly so.  The terror comes not from having someone jump out of nowhere, but from watching these three people and either A.) Having no idea what the fuck they’re going to do next; or B.) Knowing exactly what they’re going to do, and precisely how HORRIBLE it will be.  My only complaint was that in an hour and a half,  I saw everything the female lead had to offer about twelve times–but I saw male nudity a total of maybe twice.  And even then, it was WAY TOO TASTEFUL.  

Friends, I object! 

Recommended for:  Anyone who likes a good thriller, anyone who enjoys an Australian accent.

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Skinned

Robin Wasserman, Skinned

Awww, man, this one was just cool.  At some point in the future, the Earth has become a giant ball of polluted caca and society has collapsed into a highly striated mess.  If you’re rich, then you live in comfort and it’s pretty standard for your parents to have you genetically engineered so that you’re attractive and intelligent.  If you’re poor, then you either live in a city (which tend to be post-apocalyptic wastelands), or in a “corp-town,” where you receive health benefits and housing in exchange for your labor and your vote.  Lia Kahn, our heroine, is rich:  her parents made sure that she and her sister Zo were both blond, blue-eyed, smart, and athletic.  Lia was pretty, popular, and ruled her prep school with an iron fist–until she got into a devastating car wreck.  The doctors tried their best, but she lost an arm and a leg and most of her face, and then she died.

And then they froze her brain, carved it into sections, and copied it into a computer. When Lia woke up a month later, she was a machine. 

Her parents–her father, actually–had opted to have her brought back as a “skinner”:  an android.  I love Wasserman’s depiction of this, because although Lia still thinks like a human and still experiences emotion, without a human body, she cannot truly feel human sensations.  Lia, the human, was a runner; she loved feeling a runner’s high, the sensation, as Wasserman puts it, “of being all body.”  As an android, though, she can run and run and run, and never experience that feeling.  She can tell that something is cold or something is hot, but the extremes of temperature don’t hurt anymore.  And she can tell that something is scratchy or soft, but she knows that without actually truly feeling it with her skin.

Also, in addition to the total bummer of suddenly being an entirely new creature without any forewarning, Lia’s got a plethora of other problems.  Daddy has the money to bring her back from the dead, but even he doesn’t have the money to make what she is socially acceptable.  The Faithers, a vocal group of religious nutbags, think she’s an abomination; the kids at school have much the same opinion.  Lia tries to make a go of it, but she slips further and further into social obscurity, until the only person she can still hang out with is Auden, the kid who is so weird that it looks like his parents didn’t even genetically engineer him

If I have any complaints about this book, it’s that it’s all set-up:  frankly, I don’t think it will surprise anyone but Lia to realize that robot-her is never going to be able to fit into the life she led as a human.   It’s interesting to see the way in which she’s forced to take her leave of her family and her friends, but it’s a foregone conclusion that she’ll have to go.    So I really liked it, and I look forward to getting the next book when it comes out (the author’s planned a trilogy), but all along, I kept expecting…more to happen.  Don’t get me wrong, it definitely doesn’t drag, but I was all, “Come on.  None of this is the surprising part.  Get to the part I don’t know yet.”

Also, spoiler!

(more…)

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