Blankets, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Graphic Novels (and Comic Books)

Yes, I stole the title from a movie, but you'll all get over it.  I'm in a weird mood, and taking a break from my grad school final (paper and presentation for Thursday) to update my blog.  I'm currently sitting at the wine store, because I find coming here an hour or two before my scheduled shift and grabbing coffee, I get a lot more done.  Change of scenery, perhaps; maybe Andrew's iTunes jazz selections, or just a nice surface to spread out with, whatever the reason, on slower days in town I like to come in to get work done.  It's less distracting from being at home -- plus, this non-fat pumpkin chai latte is soothing my soul.  What will I do when pumpkin season is over?  And when does that even end?  Why haven't I even gotten to the actual point of this post?

Okay, so although it's been some time since my last post -- I ate myself into a turkey induced coma, if you must know my whereabouts -- I've been reading.  And by reading, I mean reading.  I've sailed through a few books, some for class, others for pleasure, but Blankets is the one I feel most drawn to, and what I think will make the most interesting topic.
I didn't get into graphic novels or comic books until college, really; the summer reading for incoming freshmen at McDaniel College my first year as a peer mentor was Persepolis, an autobiographical graphic novel by Marjane Satrapi.  As a peer mentor, it was expected that I would participate, and the nerd in me happily agreed.  Plus, they gave us copies of the summer reading for free, so what wasn't to like?  I wasn't sure what to expect, but I don't think I realized until that point how engaging -- and literary -- graphic novels could be.  I was used to seeing Manga (I almost typed 'mango,' how embarrassing that would have been) and didn't really see any literary merit in them, but Persepolis was interesting and well-written, even with the use of graphics to tell part of the story.  It was done completely in black and white, which added another level of analysis to the plot. It turned a political situation -- the story takes place in Iran during the Islamic Revolution -- into a backdrop to a traditional, relatable, and well-told coming-of-age story.  I was hooked.

Don't you remember what this was like?

A year late I had to read American Born Chinese for my Young Adult Literature class, and again, I was pulled into a multi-layered analysis of a story.  And last year, in my Memoirs class, we read 100 Demons, which was another excellent graphic autobiography.
And now we come to Blankets, a Craig Thompson coming-of-age graphic novel, also done in black and white.  Although there are several plot lines to follow, it is essentially a beautiful rendition of falling in love for the first time, and the heart break that comes with it.  There is also family drama, and questioning of faith and religious belief, which to anyone who was ever 15, much of that is a true part of growing up.  The thing I loved most about Blankets was how long it was; the book is around 600 pages long, but I read the entire thing in about 45 minutes.  Ahhh, the beauty of illustrations.

At least it's better than that green monster with bolts in his neck...

I've discovered that I do, actually, truly, really enjoy graphic novels.  There are a number of graphic novels that have gone on to make really excellent and successful movies and TV series (The Walking Dead, anyone?) and a few TV series and movies turned into spin-off graphic novels.  Coheed and Cambria has a series of graphic novels/comics that parallel the stories they tell in each album, which is another reason why I love that band.  Classic literature, canonical literature, has been turned into graphic novels; Poe and Shakespeare seem to be the most popular, but other works by Dickens (vommm) and, for my weirdo English friends out there, Frankenstein, and there are companies that specialize in creating graphic novels out of classics, presumably to be used in a classroom setting.  After all, don't all kids want to read books with pictures?
In theory.  In theory, graphic novels should be regularly used in the classroom, but the problem is the lack of thought put into these publications.  A true graphic novel should have illustrations that can be analyzed and add to the story, instead of just illustrating what's happening.  Really, they just need to have a point.  And that point should not be because kids would rather read a picture book.  When an author uses illustrations, it's like a director of a film making choices about camera angles and lighting, the editor choosing what can stay or go.  It's all significant.  Or it should be.  If it's not, what's the point?

Remember, if you want to join our International Reading Club, we're currently reading One Day and our first discussions will start December 10th.  Join us!

Hemingway hated women, but I love me some Diana

For those of you who don't know my relationship with Diana, it probably sounds creepy that I keep mentioning her in all my blog posts, but a simple explanation is she's my sorority sister, college friend, and secret Hispanic girlfriend (novia), which comes from a long story about a bar night last September and a pilot named Javier wanting to take us flying.  I'm laughing while typing this, she's probably laughing while reading it, and the rest of you are probably confused.  That's okay.  We all have best friends that mean the world to us, and although I count myself lucky enough to have more than one -- and my lovelies know who they are -- since she's in France and we've been having an awful lot of book talk recently, she's been on my mind.  Also we're facebook chatting right now, so get over your jealousy.

All digressions aside, the International Reading Club came from her journey to France (I've linked her blog about her teaching experience in Dijon in the post below, so check it out) and I spent some time yesterday searching for a book she wanted but couldn't really find.  The best part about it is I can read the book first, and then send it her way, and she won't mind.  I'm often guilty of that.  If I've ever bought you a book that I hadn't read previously, if you notice the spine was slightly creased, I probably read the book before you received it.  Sorry I'm not sorry about it.

The book she was looking for was A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway, an author I absolutely love (and love to hate), but I've actually never read the book.  It's ridiculous that I haven't, though, because it's Hemingway -- love -- it's a memoir -- love -- and it's from my favorite period of American Literature: the Modern period.  My favorite class to teach (when I was teaching, in Maryland) was Modern American Literature.  Mostly 11th graders, so that perfect age range of a-hole and hilarious.  Seriously, I get why people don't care for high schoolers because they are frustrating and horrendously annoying at times, but MAN are they funny. And bright, when you put them in the right context.

So finally, we get to Hemingway.  Hemingway is one of my all-time favorite authors to teach, because he resonates so well with adolescent readers.  If you've never had the pleasure of reading Hemingway, his writing style is very straightforward and sparse.  There's not a lot of unnecessary 'stuff' thrown in; descriptions are limited; if we don't need to know what color hair a character has, why tell us? And truthfully, the simple style and limited vocabulary is what makes him an easy author to teach. No offense to any students who may be reading, but sometimes big words and scary sentences are intimidating. Hemingway is an author who, when you put some work in, makes any reader look and feel intelligent.


I also do not believe in the New Criticism idea of the work being separate from the author, so I always teach about Hemingway's life before we read any of his works, so I start out by saying "Ernest Hemingway is a drunk, misogynistic author that I love."  And it's true.  He hates women and he shot himself, but MAN did he has an interesting life.  I can't wait to read A Moveable Feast, then send it off to Diana, and then discuss.  Isn't that what friendship is all about?

Remember, our International Reading Club is currently reading One Day by David Nicholls, and you can join the discussion at our LibraryThing group page.  We currently only have 2 members, but our facebook page has more, so be sure to log in to the website.  It's really a great site for anyone who enjoys books.

Heroin, Sexual Deviants, Chelsea Handler, and my intense failure at being intelligent.

Naked Lunch is destroying my soul.  That’s right, I said it.  Maybe I’m not intelligent enough, patient enough, or f*cked up enough, but that book is running me ragged.

A few posts ago I wrote about a trip I took with boyfriend to the library.  It was on that trip that I checked out the book Naked Lunch, thinking I’d have a month to read it before it needed to be returned.  Although I hate not having my own classroom, subbing does have its benefits when you’re working through graduate school and a blog project that revolves around reading.  I read an entire book today during a 1^st period exam and the teacher’s normal planning period.  Don’t be jealous of how awesome I am, because none of this matters when I can’t finish a damn book.

Naked Lunch is about drugs.  I think.  Maybe it’s not.  I think I’m right.  Really, I’m sure it’s about drugs, but there’s also a lot of sodomy and deviant sexual behavior. But everyone is on drugs, thinking about drugs, or selling drugs when these acts are taking place.  You know I’m not a fan of banning books, but the amount of times things are shoved up someone’s butt in the book is ridiculous.  I would NEVER teach this to high school kids.  Well, I wouldn’t be able to teach it because not only am I tremendously confused, I also haven’t finished it.

That’s right; I gave up and returned the book.  Say what?

I couldn’t help it.  The book was insanely overdue (I paid 6 dollars in late fees for three books.  SIX DOLLARS) and I knew I wasn’t going to touch it again for some time, so I returned it.  I’m not happy with myself, and I know as part of my goal, I’ll have to revisit it, but for now I needed to put it down.  Maybe it’s because I’ve never done heroin that it didn’t make sense.  I’ll have to find someone who has and ask, because I’m not willing to try it just to understand what the hell Burroughs is writing about.

I like to think I’m a moderately intelligent human being, and when it comes to English (and music) I’m slightly above average, but that’s only because I studied both of those subjects in college.  I have more education in those subjects than your average person.  So is my intelligence fabricated?  Am I really just a slave to the educational system?  Can I not interpret literature without a professor to guide my thoughts, classmates to help verbalize my insights, critics to paraphrase and cite in essays?

Or am I reading too much into things?

Literature is hard; anyone who’s read a book that was outside of his or her comfort zone can attest to that, but as a teacher, I feel like I should be able to get things.  And I don’t, not with this book.  Other novels and books have lacked depth without engaging in discussion, but this one makes no sense.  I broke down enough to return it and take a respite for now; when I check it out again, probably over Thanksgiving break, or maybe I’ll put it off till Christmas, I might break down even more and simply Google it.  I can’t be the only person out there who was bewildered by this book.

I understand a lot of things, but I’ve had excellent guidance along the way.  AP Lit was there when I read The Sound and the Fury for the first time – I’ve never forgotten La, our teacher, reading the beginning of Benjy’s part in a slow, monotonous voice, exaggerating his mental abilities so we could understand why his section read the way it did – or Mrs. Dalloway or even Their Eyes were Watching God.  I had amazing teachers and professors to help me along the way.  So now I’m stuck, floundering in my own shortcomings.

In order to make myself feel better, I picked up (literally, I found it on a shelf in a store as one of those take one, read it, pass it on type books) Chelsea Handler’s My Horizontal Life, thinking it would be a nice, easy read to take my mind off of my own failure.

GOD that book was awful.  One review compared her to David Sedaris, which is so far from the truth, I can’t even believe it was a thought.  He is brilliant; she, on the other hand, is self-indulgent and really, it reads like an attempt to rationalize her sleeping around for years and years.  It doesn’t scream feminism; rather, as a person who generally enjoys Chelsea Lately, it seemed like a bunch of crap.  The best part?  When she mentions William Burroughs being bored by her attempt at comedy and writing and shooting up heroin in order to take his mind off her lack of entertainment.

At least she’s remotely well read.

Remember to check out our International Reading Club if you want to participate in an internet based book club, and to like my facebook page for updates on anything and everything.  Including how I’m dealing with the amount of drugs and butt sex in my current literary state.

Tasting emotions and reading across borders

We’re kicking this off a little late, but nevertheless, the second great experiment of this blog will begin!

For class this week we had to read a unique and rather odd book called The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake.  And I have to admit, I liked it but I also found it very condescending.  The basic plot line was interesting; our narrator, a little girl named Rose, can taste emotions in food.  She can taste how the person who made the food is feeling, almost like an act of mind-reading.  It causes a lot of problems, because who wants to taste the stress their mother is feeling about paying the bills, or the disassociation of a father, but the overall idea is so intriguing.  Obviously there’s a lot more that goes on, but trying to describe it would be pointless.  It would just sound like a bunch of garbled nonsense, although I think a few of you would really enjoy it.

Although the author seemed like she was trying too hard, there was an underlying message of how modern society is losing it’s ability to connect.  We spend so much time on facebook, twitter, and texting with one another that we forget what it’s like to have a real conversation.  Now, I’m not one to bemoan modern technology.  I text an unhealthy amount, I have a love-hate relationship with facebook, and I skype with friends who live far away, but I understand the idea of missing connections.  We should be using the technology to make interacting even more in-depth, but instead we use it to build a barrier of what we want our projected life to be.

A few months ago I started toying with the idea of starting a book club that would work through a variety of mediums in order to keep in touch, literary-wise, with my friend who is currently living and working in France (Check out her blog here!) and my friends who are currently spread too far apart to meet for a traditional book club.  Out of that idea, the International Reading Club was born.

The idea is simple; we all read a book.  Then, on a specified ‘read-by’ date, we will open up discussion on a website called LibraryThing.com (thanks, Brittany Cooper).  The rules and regulations are posted in our group, but you will need to create an account with the website to access certain features.  Trust me, it’s a great website, so you shouldn’t feel exasperated at this extra step.  The link for our reading group is here:International Reading Club

Our book for this month is One Day and anyone and everyone is welcome to participate.  The ‘read-by’ date is December 12^th, which gives you just under a month to finish, and some extra time after the Thanksgiving holiday.  Really, you have until the end of the month, because we won’t pick another book until after Christmas, but you don’t want to be too far behind.

What I’m hoping we can accomplish with this idea is to bring people together regardless of location.  Obviously you can hold a discussion on the topic boards, commenting and responding, but I’m idealistic; perhaps from this experiment will come people exchanging skype accounts and email addresses, or even finding you want to talk further with a person you don’t even know.  I have friends from all different parts of my life, and to bring you all together in this way is something I find really exciting.  Pass this along to anyone you think might be interested in participating, because reading a book shouldn’t be all you do.  Engaging with literature through social connections is the best way to make sure we never lose sight of what is important.  We can use technology to strengthen the bonds between people, but it will only work if people are willing to try.

If I can’t sit down in a room with my favorite people and have a book discussion, then I am willing to try it out in a chatroom or through a discussion board.  And we’ll just have to see how it goes.

           

Fall, Football, and Flu season

Although I have been MIA from my blog and facebook page, I promise I've been doing what this blog is all about; reading!  And whether it's for my list or for grad class on a deadline, I've torn through a few books in the past two weeks.  I don't even know where to begin.  I had plans -- big plans -- about the topic of blog posts, but since I procrastinate like a mo-fo, now they simply seemed backlogged and pointless. Even right now I'm at work, which is the last place I want to be considering I think I caught whatever it was that my mom and dad both had; I was going strong until the third quarter of the football game last night, when all I wanted was tylenol and sleep.  I thought I'd be fine once I got some rest, but I woke up this morning feeling worse than ever with no one to cover for me at work, so here I am, wishing to be anywhere else but here, attempting to update my blog so that somebody will read it, but my head is making it difficult for me to concentrate on any logical thoughts.

Instead, I'll give you the run down on what I've read recently with some short blurbs of drawn out pontification  That's a fancy way of saying I'm going to just say whatever the hell comes to mind.  Enjoy!

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo - This was a book I had to read for grad class in the category of Popular Fiction and we had to determine if popular always equals good (which we all know it doesn't) and does being a popular novel limit the teaching of said book?  My dad loved all three of the books, but I don't know if it was the looming critical reader punching me in the back of the head as I read (my fellow English majors can agree, it's hard to read a book and avoid accidental analysis) or the nagging questions of translation and credibility, but I didn't enjoy the book as much as everyone thought I would.

It wasn't that it was a bad book; to the contrary, I can see why people would love the books, and I'm almost disappointed that I didn't love them.  They are the type of book I love for an easy beach read, but really, the analysis part of it ruined the simple enjoyment of reading a thriller.  I saw too many other books in there, and as a side note, if you like the book, try Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None.

My other issue (well, more question) regarding the book was translation.  The book is translated from Swedish into English, and I always wonder how much credit is really due to the translator.  The original title was even changed from Men who Hate Women to the well-known The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.  And let's be honest; the original title would not have sold well in America.  Can you imagine any significant percentage of the male population carrying that book around?  Not so.  Probably a good marketing choice on the publisher's part.

Yet another reason I had trouble with the book was the marketing part of it.  Obviously an author wants his or her book to sell, but these were published posthumously (that means he was DEAD for those who are confused by multisyllabic words, like Keanu Reeves) so his aim was not to make money.  Instead, the books seemed like they've been turned into a corporation.  There is an obscene amount of product placement in the novels, especially concerning up-to-date technology, always a flaw in literature that is trying to stand the test of time.  It's fine to mention someone driving, for example, a VW bug (preferably one that is red and named Lola), but when you give specific details of the certain make of her laptop, down to memory and serial specifications, you loose the timeless nature and narrow your focus too much.

It's hard to read a book thinking that you are being sold a product instead of a story.  And I'm the first to admit my love for some 'product' type series or books (heck, even Harry Potter is a franchise) but maybe I'm becoming cynical in my lack-of-job-living-at-home-again early 20's.

The Swallows of Kabul - This was another book assigned for grad class.  It takes place in Afghanistan and as part of our final project requirement, it is translated into English.  Oddly enough, it was written by a soldier under a female pseudonym which really threw me at first.  Dealing with a culture that demeans women is a rough story line, but his treatment of the issue, as well as my reading it thinking it was a female author, was disturbing in some ways.  The novel starts with a woman being stoned to death, and although we have one female character who rejects the idea of the burka, there is still no positive to any of the female characters.  They do exactly as the men as even as they are claiming to be more forward minded women.

I am a big proponent of multicultural literature and education, but not in the way most public schools like to teacher the genre.  I'm sorry, but the curriculum at my old job for multicultural literature was a joke.  We taught Night in Multi.  And you know how much I love that book, and true, the majority (meaning all but one) of my students had no background or associations with the Jewish faith, but if that's multicultural, then I want that class to read books in the vein of Queer Theory and Feminist Theory.  How do we define minority and multicultural literature?

Teachers and students and schools (and readers, in general) have become the comfortable medium of literature; yes, it's a culture different from our own, but not so much that we are disturbed or forced to question our reality.  We're too middle ground in most of our entertainment choices.  I didn't love the book, but I love how I am forced to question why I don't love the book, and really examine a culture I am very removed from.

Our final project for class is a multicultural assignment, hence the reading of The Swallows of Kabul as a class assignment.  I struggled with finding a book, sent the librarians on a whirlwind search (they have the best search options on their computers, I wish they had it on the catalogue computer) and finally found a book called Border Town.  The assignment is to read a non-Western European book by a non-Western European author.  I went for Asian because I feel like I know more about Middle Eastern cultures than Asian cultures.  Already I can feel a divide in what I know and what is foreign, but I find that in the descriptions and reviews of the book, Shen Congway is always compared to William Faulkner and Pearl Buck.  He wrote before Faulkner!  Why do the Americans always win?
 
 I also read Food Rules: An Eater's Guide, The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake, and Blankets, but I feel those books deserve their own attention.  For now, the ramblings of a not feeling so hot girl who really just wants to go lay on the couch and sleep.