Books of the Year

The most influential book of the year for me was Super Sad True Love Story (below). I was really struck by the innovative and effective way the book was written, and the social commentary. The material isn't entirely new, but the style was. And it's hard to find something new these days.

However, I have to say that the books I tore through the fastest were the Hunger Games Trilogy, by Suzanne Collins. The story reminded me of Ender's Game meets 1984, so of course I enjoyed it, even if the writing was pretty basic. I almost couldn't believe that young people (the books were written for teens) would be so interested in such depressing material, but the insanely quick-moving plot would keep anyone turning pages I think. And she wasn't afraid to kill off characters, ohhhh no. I was impressed by her storytelling and the fact that she could keep kids engaged in a post-apocalyptic world devoid of ANY of the modern teenager's beloved technology. It made me want to try it.

What the two have in common is that they speculate on where American society may end up in the future, though Shteyngart's guess seems a lot more probable. Neither vision is very comforting. Anyway, I guess the future is kind of my thing, and presumably a lot of other people's thing considering that both were bestsellers this year. 

Next year I think I would really like to see some flowery, beautiful, romantic, whimsical literature in the style of Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Haven't seen much of that in awhile.

A Super Sad Realization

I've been in crazy wedding mode for the past month or two, but I have also been speeding through some books, what with a new schedule allowing for time to read for an hour before bed and an hour in the morning while drinking my coffee. Last night I finished Super Sad True Love Story, by Gary Shteyngart (on my iPad no less! This is ironic and pertinent as the book makes a point of highlighting the downfall of print media).

Anyway, wow. This guy did "social commentary projected as future society" RIGHT. He took this simple story (weak man falls in love with confused girl) and placed it in such a richly textured world and relayed it all in beautiful, sometimes complex and sometimes satirically horrible writing. The occasional passage was long-winded and a little boring, and once or twice I felt beaten over the head with one the points he was trying to make, but overall, I was immensely impressed.

I was also immensely depressed. Not only due to the hopeless track he placed America on, but because my book sucks in comparison, and we aren't writing on such dissimilar subject matter. Seriously, what I wrote looks like a book for babies next to his, an infantile finger painting next to Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel.

Damnit.

Little bodies

Do you ever feel like an octopus trying to put on a sweater?
Even if it's a nice sweater
from a fancy store
and your grandma bought it for you - 
it doesn't fit.
and it scratches your liquid-smooth octopus skin
so itchy.
I do.

And sometimes I feel like an insect instead
limbs curled up tight
and jutting out.
Lying still and silent in the middle of the night,
heart thumping so loud.
it's all I can hear.

Crafty Wedding

At first I thought it was a little lame in a Martha Stewart sort of way, but now I just don't care: my creativity is all being channeled toward wedding projects these days. Not writing. Not painting. Not reviewing books or movies in this blog like I thought I would. Rather, save the dates, escort cards, paper cranes and party favors. So instead of ignoring this blog to peruse yet ANOTHER "real DIY wedding" on stylemepretty.com, I thought I would write up one of my little projects.

I just ordered these rustic wooden hearts for 25 cents each and plan to stain them a darker wood color and use a little wood-soldering craft kit to write guests' names on the front and table number on the back. Flippin' perfect for our Barn wedding!!

Okay, so I didn't invent the idea myself, I saw it in a magazine. BUT, they simply laid the hearts flat at place settings and I plan to hang them using twine from a huge bare branch, spraypainted, emerging from a hurricane glass filled with river stones we found at Great Falls. BOOYAH! And, AND, I want to place in front of the tree branch handmade moss-covered letters that spell out l-o-v-e. I mean, I just can't stop. I'm going to be up to my ears in projects soon.

Is it a ridiculous waste-of-time to spend this much energy planning little wedding details? I'm not sure. I should certainly be working on my book more than I am. Yet I get such pleasure from these little bursts of hands-on creativity, like popping ripe raspberries in my mouth, sweetness explosion. And when else will I find another excuse like this to waste hours upon hours gluing, cutting, painting, and soldering?

Ah, yes, I've figured it out now. It's the hands-on, crafting type creativity that I'm really enjoying at the moment, more so than intellectual wandering, which can be both rewarding and draining. I'm happy in the simplicity and quick reward of envisioning something, hunting down the materials, and putting them together to create something unique and lovely.

Yup, my favorite part of being a bride is the crafts :)

Cancer: A Paradox

Right now I'm reading The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, by Rebecca Skloot. While I'm not quite finished yet, I wanted to quickly make note of an interesting paradox that came to me while reading the book:

Cancer cells can reproduce and live forever while normal, healthy human cells cannot. Because normal, healthy cells can only reproduce so many times, we eventually die. Cancer cells could be the key to immortality for human beings. But they kill us.

The whole idea is fascinating to me because it brings forward this concept I've been ruminating on for a long time: when you stray too far from what's natural, no matter how appealing it might seem, it comes back to bite you. This is a key concept of the book I'm writing and a very big mountain in my mind.

Image by Sam Rohn

Lefty love

I wish I was left-handed, I really do. A righty who leans left, my brain is a battlefield where the ever-waging war between logic and creativity results in permanent unrest. I really want the right brain to win, to pull some crafty underdog maneuver on the rigid and disciplined left brain, but victory has not been claimed by either side yet.

My left-handed envy, of course, results from the typical association between the right brain and creativity. Oh, how easy life must be for the left-handed! Poetry and music and artistic expression dripping from them like sweat, wearing beauty as a halo. It's unfair! I imagine that lefties always feel like I do in the brief moments when I transition from sleep to wake, dreaming to reality: feather-light and expansive, floating on fuzzy electric brain currents.

I'm also immediately intrigued by lefties, no matter who they are. A student of Latin, I'm aware of the bad rap that lefties have historically gotten; in Latin, 'sinister' means left and the connotations are obvious. Lefties were treated with suspicion and mistrust and most lefties were forced to switch to their right hands. I find the whole mythology around lefties fascinating, plus they're rare - only 7 to 10 percent of the population.
 
Left is best, no doubt about it. Left is the hand for diamond rings and the political left is certainly my preferred place on the spectrum. Lefties are loose(y) and Righties are tight(y)! Who cares if they can't use normal scissors?? Who wants to be normal anyway?!

I'm green for left and it's a club I can never join. But I can write about all that creativity and that's what I'll do in this blog - post about books and movies and other artistic happenings of interest.  Maybe if I work hard enough (says the disciplined left brain), I can pass for ambidextrous?