"Sense will always have attractions for me."

I Netflix'd the 2008 Masterpiece Theatre adaptation of Sense & Sensibility this weekend. I loved it. Don't get me wrong, I will forever adore Emma Thompson's 1995 version but this one was also pretty stellar. I was intrigued by the similarities in casting. I mean, characters of course carry attributes but Austen is not one for much physical description and, between these two films, the physical traits and mannerisms of certain characters were very recognizable. Lucy Steele, in particular, was played almost exactly the same.

While I was watching this movie though, I had an epiphany that Elinor Dashwood is perhaps Austen's best heroine. Allow me to elaborate on "best." I'm not saying she's everyone's favorite or that she is most wonderful, moral, relateable, anything. By "best" I mean that she strikes me as the summation of the best attributes included in the other Austen heroines. She is incredibly strong and unwilling to be cowed but not in the way that Lizzie's stubbornness and temper becomes rude and divisive. Elinor is patient and allows things to develop in their time but not the way Anne's retiring nature becomes debilitating. She is moral and modest but not as insufferable as Fanny's prudishness. She loves her family, despite their idiosyncrasies and cares for the welfare of her friends, without becoming meddling like Emma. Elinor endures the meanness of her in-laws and friends. She is practical. She admires Edward all the more because he does what is right and honorable, even if it means he will be lost to her forever. She is the best and brightest of all Austen's women. Maybe this makes her the most annoying, too perfect, but I have to say, I find her incredibly human, not a Mary-Sue. She is the Austen heroine I want to be.

But I still want Henry Tilney.

Book Haul!

So, our local used book store had a tent sale this week. Buddy Holly and I didn't have time to go until yesterday, so pickings were kind of slim. There was a lot of Danielle Steel, Tom Clancy, Star Trek, and *shudder* the Left Behind series. But I did find some great books! We had car problems at the beginning of the month, so I had to leave a few behind *weeps* but am delighted with my bounty.

Bel Canto by Ann Patchett
This was on my to-read list. I've never read Patchett but it was recommended by Christina of Reader of Fictions, so I bought it.


The Bean Trees by Barbara Kingsolver
I love The Poisonwood Bible, so I was on the lookout for any of Kingsolver's works. So glad I found one!


Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh
On my to-read list. I've wanted to watch the movie for a long time but have been waiting to read the book first. I'm uber-excited to have gotten a 1945 Little, Brown and Company edition! U.S. First Edition for a dollar SCORE!


Wobegon Boy by Garrison Keillor
Garrison Keillor and The Prairie Home Companion make me happy but I had no idea he wrote books. I'm hoping this turns out funny ha-ha.


September by Rosamunde Pilcher
I totally chose this book because of it's name. September is my favorite month. I was born in September. September ushers in Autumn, the best of all seasons. As it turns out, this novel is set in Scotland, which is also in its favor. Let's hope it lives up to its name!


I had been hoping to find a copy of L.M. Montgomery's The Blue Castle; I've been searching for that book for quite some time. I think eventually I will give up and just order it online but not yet. I have it in my head that there will be this wonderful, meet-cute moment in a little antique shop or quiet, out of the way book store where I'll happen upon the perfect edition for the perfect price. I'm strange.

Hysterical Women

Have you read The Yellow Wallpaper? By Charlotte Perkins Gilman? If not you can read the short story here or listen to the Suspense radio play, starring Agnes Moorehead. This short story is the chilling journal of a woman suffering from "hysterics", forced by her doctor husband to undergo a "rest cure" in a country home for the Summer and her subsequent descent into madness. Kept shut up in the house with little to no mental stimulation, our narrator writes, in secret, of her boredom, malaise, and the strange wallpaper of her prison, I mean, bedroom. Imagination, paranoia, and eventually a complete disconnect from reality follow. It is an early example of feminist literature and a prime example of an unreliable narrator. It is this unreliability that makes The Yellow Wallpaper so terrifying, in my opinion.  The audience can never quite be sure if the wife, our narrator, is driven mad by the neglectful and perhaps nefarious dealings of her husband or if her madness is inevitable and her paranoia merely a symptom of the disease.

This uncertainty is one of my favorite elements in a good suspense, the eerie of not knowing. Daphne du Maurier's My Cousin Rachel is another great example of this. In this novel, young Phillip, the ward of his older cousin, Ambrose, leads the comfortable life of confirmed bachelorhood. But Ambrose, while wintering in Italy for his health, makes the acquaintance of a long lost cousin, Rachel. Much to Phillip's dismay they marry and in the year or so following, Ambrose writes of his joy, then his failing health, and, at last, his suspicion of Rachel. Ambrose passes away and Rachel comes to England with his possessions, to return them to the estate, which Phillip has now inherited. Phillip, mistrustful of this woman, welcomes her to the estate and is surprised to find her beautiful and charming. Any misgivings he had of her are easily explained away by the brain tumor which caused his cousin's passing. Phillip's love for Cousin Rachel blossoms but is made uneasy by little occurrences - a missing note from Ambrose about Rachel's extravagances, an unsigned will leaving the estate to Rachel and her progeny, and a certain "healthful" tea Rachel gave to Ambrose to ease his pain when he was ill, made from a poisonous plant. To this day, after many read-throughs and movie-sittings, I cannot tell you if Rachel killed Ambrose or not. And that uncertainty is what keeps me coming back for more.

Now, don't get me wrong, I love a straight-forward, moustache-twirling, scheming bad guy too. As in the film Gaslight, where our heroine is driven to mental instability by the underhanded plotting of her husband. By making noises in the attic and dimming the gaslights when she is the only one at home, evil-husband convinces his wife that she is going out of her mind and, of course, insanity has always run in the family. When she finally breaks, he'll have her committed and inherit her vast fortune all for himself. Muahahahahaha. He even goes so far as to rent the house next door to complete his evil plan. Which really, is all unnecessary because this story is set in the late 1800s/early 1900s and he would pretty much have control of her fortune anyway. Just saying.

It's About Us

It's been a few months, about time for me to harp on women's issues again.

Have you seen The Color Purple? Don't worry, neither had I but you should, you totally should. Don't get me wrong, this movie is a challenge to watch and is emotionally taxing but you'll be a better person for having seen it.

The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield

Hester Barrow mansplains mansplaining:

Any governess, after the few hours I have had in this house, would have a full and clear picture of the task awaiting her, but he is a man, hence cannot see how tiresome it is to have explained at length what one has already fully understood. (pg. 319)

The Tea Rose

This isn't a review, snarky movie reviews are my deal. If you want a review, check out A Reader of Fictions review here. But I had one of the strangest experiences reading Jennifer Donnelly's The Tea Rose and I've got to write about it.

So, this book is massive. Not literally, I mean it is also fairly hefty size-wise but the story itself is vast. It covers a little over a decade and recounts everything from docker strikes in the East End of London to dining with the Astors in New York, from Jack the Ripper to stock takeovers. I don't want to give too much away, I'm going to do my best to not include too many spoilers but it will be inevitable. If you plan on reading this book you may want to wait to read this post.

Conversations with my husband, Sunday edition

Our church has beautiful modern stained glass windows. By modern, I mean they don't have people. The subjects of the windows are Christian symbols, like a baptismal shell, crosses, communion chalice, rather than Biblical scenes. Which I appreciate because I always think stained glass window people look kind of silly, unless they're iconized (no, that is not a word) or made to look more like cartoons. Anyway, during service on Sunday, Buddy Holly was trying to decipher the meanings of the symbols and running them by me.
Buddy Holly: Okay, that one has a crown and INRI was the plaque nailed to the top of the cross. I get that. And the one next to it has a PX, which has something do with peace.
Me: Yes, "pax" means peace in Latin.
Buddy Holly: And then there's the dove, which is a symbol of peace throughout the Bible. And, what the hell is the last one? An albatross descending into hell?
Me: An albatross? Really?
Buddy Holly: Yeah, you just can't see the guy.
Me: The guy?
Buddy Holly: Yeah, the guy killed the albatross and is wearing it on the end of a necklace around his neck, and the albatross is dragging the guy into hell.
Me: That's a phoenix. You know, rising from the flames. Resurrection.
Buddy Holly: Well that's not Christian. I mean, resurrection is but the phoenix is not a Christian symbol. Obviously, that's an albatross dragging a guy into hell.
Me: I think you need to reread the Bible and The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner.
Buddy Holly: I'm pretty sure The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner is a book of the Bible.

I love a husband who mixes his literature and theology.

Conversations with my husband, Saturday edition

I just finished reading The Hunger Games this weekend, because who isn't reading The Hunger Games? I don't normally go for things when they're at their height. I waited years to read Harry Potter and, if you've seen my King's Speech post, you know that I'm not always on the edge of incoming media. I probably wouldn't have gotten to Hunger Games for a while were it not that my book club is reading them. But I am glad that I have read them and I'm desperate for Buddy Holly to read them so that I can talk to him about them.

He's all like: "Well, talk to me about it anyway and then I'll read them."
And I'm all like: "No! That's spoils it. I don't want to ruin it because so much of this book is about following the flow of the story and wanting to know more."
And then I'm like: "Well, okay, so there's a love triangle and I was really worried they'd make the decision for the main character, make it easy. Which they kind of did but not in the way I thought. Like, I thought one of them was going to die, which didn't happen but there were substantial reasons given to take one of them out of the running. And the choice she made was the one she would have made anyway but it was just made so much easier for her and I'm kind of disappointed in that."
And he's like: "Okay."

If you've read the books, I think you know what I mean. Buddy Holly obviously didn't. Now, I just need to wait about a decade or so to see the movies.

We named the dog Indiana

Take a moment today to read about John Fairfax. And, when you've finished reading about his absolutely fascinating life, let's have a moment of silence for our mundane existence. I'm sorry, I'm assuming again. Perhaps you also have "attempted suicide-by-jaguar" and "afterward [were] apprenticed to a pirate." If so, I applaud you. I have not lived quite so awesomely.

Reading about John Fairfax reminds me of Dana and Ginger Lamb. This newlywed couple left the coast of Southern California in a 16 ft. canoe in 1933 and sailed along the Californian, Mexican, Guatemalan, and Costa Rican coasts before crossing the Panama Canal in 1936. Enchanted Vagabonds chronicles this adventure and I highly recommend it. During the 1940s, they disappeared again, this time into Mexico and Central America, looking for the lost city of a tribe of Mayans that is said to have disappeared into the jungle to escape the Conquistadors. The Quest for the Lost City is considered to be the more controversial of their trips and many claim much of it is fabricated. I choose to believe in it because, frankly, it's a great story and even if it didn't happen I don't feel cheated or lied to by it.

If I weren't so absolutely terrified by the idea of bugs that could kill me and if I were not so fully aware of my own physical limitations, I would be tempted to be an adventurer. Are there people that still do this?

I've got nothing

Not really. I've got lots. I've got rhythm. I've got music. I've got my man. Who could ask for anything more? Okay, Gershwin aside, I'm quite content. Home, family, puppies, writing when I've got the time. A church member donated a new computer and I didn't lose everything in the crash. It's the quiet before the Lenten storm. I'm attempting to show Buddy Holly all of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all of the James Bond movies at the same time.

Buddy Holly turns twenty-five this week but we're waiting to celebrate his birthday and having a SuperBowl party. I'm making fancy (in the most manly way possible) cupcakes. I'll try to remember to take pictures of my success (or failure).

I get my Christmas present this Friday! We're going to the theatre. We'll be dressing up and I'll be wearing opera length gloves that are in the mail. I have a blue gown, a bridesmaid dress, and will be styling myself after Anastasia. I'll try to remember to take a picture of that too. Perhaps even with my music box. It's the hair I'll have trouble with. My hair is quite fine (in the thinnest sense of the word) and does not take to fancy styling, or curling, or volume, or doing much of anything.

So, when I say I've got nothing, it's more that I don't have anything to rant about just now. How boring.

I just finished Gilda Radner's autobiography It's Always Something. The biography, originally meant to describe the humor of her life. took a different turn when she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer in 1986. She battled it, it went into remission, and then claimed her life in 1989. It was not at all what I expected it to be. I think I was expecting Tina Fey (Bossypants is also a very good autobiography) but, of course, it wasn't because I got Gilda.  She writes about having to find herself, her Gilda-ness, over and over. In the midst of the pain and despair, she talks about losing the clown, the Roseanne Roseannadanna, and having to discover it all over again. It's inspiring and bittersweet. She died of cancer in the end but, I imagine, Gilda would never say she lost or that she wasn't a victor because she learned to live life when she had it and to fight the cancer and the depression it inspires.

Next up is The Great Gatsby because I've never read it.

Another Zodiac's Gone Around

The new year came quietly enough. Sparkling grape juice (because it's so delicious and only major Holidays can validate the buying of it in bulk quantities), Dick Clark, and Tim Tam slams made up the advent of my 2012.

What's that? What's a Tim Tam slam? Well, let me tell you. Tim Tam's are a cookie, native to Australia and New Zealand, that can be found in the U.S. from October through March, under the branding of Pepperidge Farm. They're a sort of porous, crisp inside coated in chocolate. They are good in and of themselves but slamming them makes them divine.
Tim Tam Slam:

• Take 1 Tim Tam cookie & 1 mug warm drink (coffee, hot cocoa, cappuccino, etc.) 
• Warm because you do not want to scald your mouth, duly warned.
• Carefully nibble off opposing ends of Tim Tam, so that inside is visible
• Use Tim Tam as straw to draw liquid drink, until Tim Tam begins to disintegrate
• Eat Tim Tam before it falls apart in your fingers
• Achieve Nirvana

Gosh, I'd like to say that my new year resolution is to be the kind of girl I think I am in my head. A girl who makes fantastic salads from fresh exotic fruits and vegetables and likes them more than whip cream and scones. A girl who wears pretty, flowing dresses all the time and is comfortable in them. A girl with hair that curls naturally, who wakes in the morning refreshed and pleasant. A girl that keeps a pristine but welcoming home. Gee, that'd be a great resolution and boy, would I louse it up. I'd love to be that girl. I'd love to dress like the girls at A Beautiful Mess and bake like Joy every day of 2012. But I can't and I won't. I'll be inspired by them and maybe, on the weekend, I'll try my hand at a new recipe or wake up a little early to put on make up for once. But in reality, day to day? I love scones and shortbread and hot chocolate and pumpkin anything, more than I care about being a size 6. I'm a girl who loves white eyelet dresses and bright patterned tights but is most comfortable in jeans and boots and a big, slouchy sweater. My hair is straight and that's all there is to it and I'm a grumpy-gills in the morning. My house was mostly clean for new year, which I considered a personal victory, but there's no less than three pairs of kicked-off shoes in my range of vision, just this moment. So, that's not what I'll be endeavoring toward in 2012 because being honest with one's self is just as important as a resolution.

I actually surprised myself by making a resolution this year. On the last Monday of December, after having driven from my parents house to home (a fourteen hour trek), with very little sleep, I had the brilliant notion that I wanted to finish my novel in the new year. Maybe not have it published, not yet at least, but get it out, done -  a good, mostly draft. I began writing this novel in college and it's been slow going at best ever since. But I feel encouraged this time around. I have a game plan and a reward system. As an incentive, I'm converting our "office", which has been a storage room for important paper items and my desktop since we moved, into a writing room, tentatively known as the niche. (We have a thing for naming rooms things other than what they are or elaborating on the name. We have a Geek Room for all things DND, New Orleans Saints, Knitting, Bookish, and Firefly. We also have a Lilac room, so called because the walls are purple. Eventually it will be repainted but it will probably still be called the Lilac room. It's the spare bedroom, maybe in a nod to Narnia I should call it Spare Oom.) This makeover is being done on the cheap but will include another of my resolutions, file all our important papers and shred the rest. Old cork boards, prettied up with quotes, inspirations, and story ideas, newly framed pictures, and an overall Oriental theme, because I got a rug for free from church with a dragon on it. And sage green is totally my color, my vibe color, my heartbeat at rest, deep thinking, sunshiny afternoon with tea, a blanket and a good book color, my book color. (Deep red is Buddy Holly's color. Together we make brown, which we have a lot of in our decorating). I will also keep tea in this room and I may need an electric tea kettle. I'm hoping to find a chaise or big, comfy, reading chair for the corner. Someplace I can go sit aside and think or where Buddy Holly can do his thing while I'm getting my write on. This room will be inspiring and cozy, it will make me think of mountains and pounding waves, but also homemade cookies and a well-worn couch. This room will have scope for the imagination.

Once the room is finished, I will create a timeline for completion of the book. The year mapped out with important landmarks, completion of a certain number of chapters or plot points, matched with rewards, perhaps themed rewards. All of this will be tacked up on the wall in plain view. Then, of course, I'll have to sit down and actually start working on the damn thing. And, this Summer, a research trip. Fortunately (or not so fortunately), the book is set a few states away and will only require a long weekend. Next time I write a book, I'll have to set it in Norway or Ireland...or DisneyWorld. "But Dahling, (the girl I am in my head talks this way) we have to go. It's for my novel."

What intimidates me most, even with all my careful preparations, is that I'm not miserable. How can I write when I'm not in travail? I am willing to make sacrifices for my writing but I don't want to suffer for it. Is it entirely necessary to starve oneself or fall into the depths of despair? It seems so. It seems all the greats were tortured, suicidal, or held at the mercy of the critics - wracked with doubt, drugs or delusions. But then, I'm not out to be great, am I? I don't want to be Hemingway, Shakespeare, or Austen. I don't need to be a classic. I just want to write. This story is there, inside, and it wants to be written. And when I've finished that one, there will be another. Maybe none of them will see a bookshelf but, if I have anything to do with it (which I do), they'll see the light of day.

Wampyr

Do you know I had never read Bram Stoker's Dracula? Until just now? I'm not even finished with it yet. Wow. All of my Dracula knowledge comes from common lore, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and Dracula: Dead and Loving It. Yes, Joss Whedon and Mel Brooks are the creators of my vampire world. I've never even seen a true film adaptation. I hear the 1992 version is okay? Is that the one with the psychedelic love scene?

Anyway, in the long run, I feel my lack of true Dracula understanding will serve me well because now I can read the book without too many preconceived notions of how it ought to be. It is also very depressing that it took me this long. I keep being surprised by things. For instance, half of the characters that are in the book, never make it into common knowledge. I thought the story consisted solely of the Harkers, Lucy, and Van Helsing fighting against (or being killed by, in Lucy's case,) Dracula, Renfield, and the three sisters. There's three other guys involved! I am enjoying the part I'm reading just now, where the Harkers have joined the trio of Lucy's suitors - Arthur, Dr. Seward, and Quincey Morris - and Van Helsing at Dr. Seward's home/asylum. They've all caught up on their past run-ins with the Count and are about to hatch their plan to capture the monster. They're like the Scooby-Gang and it's cute how excited they all are to be in this little clique. They need t-shirts. Also, I really enjoy that Dracula lives next door. If only we had known!! Also-also, Van Helsing is Dutch and does not have a great grasp of English and I love it. I'm proud of Stoker for taking the time to write him flubbing English grammar rules.
P.S. Entirely unrelated to Dracula, I have a pet peeve about plastic-handled eating utensils. The kind where just the handle is plastic and the rest is metal. Ew.

Kindred Seasons

It's October. When did that happen?

Saturday. That's when.