dissecting trash

Now that my latest line edit is complete and the draft is off with a beta reader or two, I am allowing myself to once again read some trash.  In this case, the first four books of Charlaine Harris' Southern Vampire Mystery Series.  When J asked me what I thought of them, I said, "No one can ever call Twilight bad again."  But I said this with a big grin on my face.  I'm loving them.

So J asked me why, if I thought the writing was so bad.  This was difficult to answer.

The prose isn't great.  The plots are only ok, the pacing makes me want to skip pages every now and again.  So why am I engrossed?  Well, because I'm engrossed.  That ability to pull a reader into a world is nothing to discard.  Harris has created a very complex, fun universe that I can lose myself in for literal hours at a time.  

The characters are fun and more nuanced than I would have imagined.  I have a specific sense of who they are and the nature of their relationships even when the main character, Sookie (whose first person perspective we're reading), doesn't.  Harris nails Sookie's voice, as well as other characters in the book.

And Harris has a strong sense of humor.  She winks at the reader frequently, such as when the kind of dumb Sookie claims to be "self taught from genre novels."

That said, I still think of the books as trashy.  Partly thanks to the graphic sex scenes, partly due to the blatant fantasy wish fulfillment for every straight female reader, partly due to the fact that they turned the series into True Blood.  (By the way, very very different after season one.)  And yes, partly because the prose doesn't make me ache.

But that's ok, Eric does.  And we all need that every now and again.

YA, paranormal, love triangles, and my psyche

One of my beta readers had some pretty serious gripes with FLIGHT.  She was mad at how my love triangle ends in the book.  She thinks my MC, Maria, made the wrong choice.  I'm ok with this gripe.

As I sat with beta reader A, we discussed why she didn't like Maria's choice and I realized that her opinions had much less to do with characterization or plot, but about her own sense of that is important in intimate relationships.  And -- now I am not about to say I am a great writer or that FLIGHT is great literature -- that's what great art does.  It holds a mirror up tot he audience/reader and makes them see themselves a little bit differently than they did before.

Carrie Ryan recently blogged about the love triangle in her amazing book The Forrest of Hands and Teeth.  The entry includes spoilers, so go read the book first.  Then read her post.

I'm a grown woman and I am happily married.  So my husband takes some umbrage that I like to read paranormal YA and that FLIGHT has a love triangle with a married woman at its core.  So let me explain why this genre, this plot, and Ryan's post speak to me.

I have a pretty strong sense of who I want to be.  And despite being considered an adult by any cultural measure, I still have no idea of exactly how to get from who I am to who that is.  In fact, I don't even think that I could truly be that who-I-want-to-be given all of the other factor and obligations in my life.  Part of why I like YA paranormal (The Forrest of Hands and Teeth, Twilight, Harry Potter, and others I can't think of off the top of my head) is that at their core, these books are about the main characters trying to work through this very dilemma.  And the paranormal component raises the stakes, states emotional truths through the literalization of metaphors (I'll have to blog on this topic separately, lots to say).

As with paranormal elements, love triangles are a manifestation of this dilemma -- who does the MC want to be?  At least the best ones -- Catherine/Healthcliff/Edgar, Ilsa/Victor/Rick, Buffy/Angel/Spike, Arthur/Guenivere/Lancelot -- are.  Notice these aren't literature's great lovers.  Love triangles aren't about romance.  I have very strong opinions about who is "right" for the torn party and each is a little Rorschach test of who I am.

But enough about me.  Go read Ryan's post, read some good YA paranormal love triangles, and learn a little bit more about who you are.

read an excerpt of FLIGHT on Glass Cases

Many thanks to Sarah La Polla for publishing an excerpt of FLIGHT on her awesome blog, Glass Cases.  You can read it here.

Woo hoo!

to make you smile

I've been a failure of a blogger lately, haven't I?

Thanks to some crazy work travel, a concentrated bout of editing, and an ill-timed illness, I haven't had much time to blog.  Or much of anything worth blogging about.  So instead, I give you this.

do you write what you read?

On his blog, Nathan Bransford wrote yesterday about books as existing at some point along two number scales. The first measured plot--how good the story is, the structure and pace. The other measured the writer's mastery and use of language. Any book could be given two numbers, one for plot and one for language.  So, anything by Virgina Woolf might receive a 1 for plot and a 10 for writing. Dan Brown would get the inverse 10 and 1.  Haruki Murakami would receive a pair of 10s.  Bransford asked what people prefer to read and if that correlates to what the write.

I enjoy books on all points of the scatter chart. Twilight has a place in my bookshelf along with Atonement, Oryx and Crake, and The Graveyard Book.  Bransford's scales match how I choose what book I feel like reading at a given moment more than any other mechanism I know. I ask friends to recommend a book and say, "I'm in the mood for candy," or "I want to swim in something beautiful." But I can't think of a time when I've said, "can you suggest YA paranormal," or "how 'bout dystopic fiction?"

But as a writer, I am careful to time this consumption. High scoring plot books for when I'm outlining or writing a first draft. But only well written literary when I am crafting sentences.

See, I'm one of those people who pick up accents. I don't mean to, but I drawl around my Southern friends and get more nasal around my family. So, when I am focused on word choice and sentence cadence, I want my mind to be influenced by the most beautiful writing I know.

What about you? Does your reading palate vary according to what you're writing?  By these measures or some other?

on beauty

I finished reading Ann Pachett's Bel Canto about a week ago and I have been mulling over what I want to say about it here. 

Two aspects of the book stand out to me.  The first, is the magical texture of it.  On the surface, Bel Canto  is a fairly straight forward story of a group of terrorists in an unnamed South American country that take a group of high profile party goers hostage.  The Amazon review references the narrative's "omniscience of magic realism," but for me, the fabulist nature of the book lies not in the ability to see into each characters' thoughts, but in the thoughts themselves.

For a book that purports to be about terrorism gone awry, the characters are consumed with beauty.  This should be expected given the book's title and even the book jacket's focus on music.  But the transportative nature of opera and beauty, the way every character is overwhelmed by it, defies realism.  I am not digging opera here, it is not a question of musical form.  But the characters' thoughts about the arias and their emotions ebb, flow, and swirl around each other in a way that is as harmonious as the music itself.

By allowing music to hold such power over a group of desperate people--terrorists and hostages alike--and allowing that music to overcome their situation, Pachett writes an ode to beauty.  It is not realistic, it is not intended to be, but it is true.

The next stand out aspect of the writing is how perfectly Pachett sets up the ending.  Early on in the book, she tells the readers how the story will conclude.  It is a casual line, easily enough missed or ignored except that you don't.  And so for the rest of the book, as you grow to love and understand these characters, the conclusion colors each scene.

Like the characters, you find yourself determined that the ending you've been told will come is not inevitable.  Pachett was wrong.  It was just a throw away line, maybe you misread it.  But you, like each character, know the truth of their situation.  I found myself bargaining.  I found myself in denial.  I found myself undergoing the very same emotions as the characters, right through the epilogue.

While Pachett might have set out to write an ode to the power of music, she also created a testament to the beauty of literature.

trying to come up with a pun on Inception

Two movie-related posts in a row, what's up with that?

Sorry, I know this blog is intended to be about writing and writings, but a girl can't help it if other art forms also elicit a strong reaction every now and again.  My husband and I went to see Inception last weekend and the movie has been rattling around my brain for three days now.  

While watching the film, I loved it.  How often does a movie come along that is simultaneously this much fun and this mentally engaging?  I felt the entertainment hemisphere of my brain limber up and do the acrobatics necessary to keep up with Christopher Nolan's matryostka of a movie. Fun. Fun, fun.

My husband and I agreed on this enjoyment and gave it two thumbs up.  Then we spent the subway ride home contemplating separately before we discussed it.  And here's where Inception gets interesting: while we both thought we figured out the plot, we had very different interpretations of what happened.

This, I have to say, is not a flaw in my book.  It's great.  Like modern art and classical music.  How often do movies open themselves up to that kind of interpretation and personal resonance?

My next point of awe: it is an incredibly well structured movie.  As a writer, structure scares the hell out of me.  Yes, I know, it is pretty much the muck in which Christopher Nolan frolics.  But it is also impressive to create this intricate, this layered a movie and have the audience still keep up.

That all said, the disappointments (and here we have spoilers, too):

Ariadne: If you are going to create this much of a mind fuck, you need an exposition fairy.  I get that and appreciate that Nolan did not pretend this character was anything else.  But here is where I am willing to suspend my disbelief of the impossible but not the improbable: Why does this character magically understand the depth of Cobb's psychological problems and their implications before even his closest friends?  All of her other questions and hypotheses make sense to me.  An intelligent person in her situation could make the mental leaps.  But this, no.

The lowest dream: Is this limbo or another level of dream state?  Because if it is limbo, why isn't Cobb as old as the old Asian dude by the time he finds him?  And if it is not limbo, how did the old Asian dude end up in Cobb's dream world?  (Yes, I know that this incongruity is in direct opposition to my praise of Nolan's structure, but what the hell.  I was still impressed.)

I have discussed the movie with friends who disliked Mal and disliked the ambiguity of the ending.  I have to say that I shared neither view.  I loved Mal. (Marion Cotillard is kind of delicious in everything, no?)  I loved the movie's explanation of her thoughts and motives as well as Cobb's interactions with her.  She is so pure in her purpose and yet quite multidimensional for a figment.  And, while I have a strong opinion about what "really" happens in the ending, I like the ambiguity.

So, what do you think?  Stellar structure and thought provoking fun?  Crap dialogue and plot holes the size of falling vans?  In the end, I think that any art that leaves the audience having such heated conversations and contemplation days later has done its job well.

the devil is sending young women the wrong message

I first saw The Devil Wears Prada in a pre-screening event in NYC some years ago.  I adore Meryl Streep and Stanley Tucci.  While I didn't love her at the time, somewhere around Brokeback Mountain I finally admitted to myself that I like Anne Hathaway.  And Emily Blunt was, come on, perfect for this role.  It seemed like a fun, innocuous way to spend an evening.

I left the theater furious.  Then some years passed and I pretty much forgot about the movie.  Until I found it while flipping through TV channels.  I thought, "it was pretty cute. I'll give it a second chance."

No, no.  Just as angry after the second watching.

Here's my beef:

Anne Hathaway's character, Andy, moves to NYC in the hopes of becoming a journalist and scores a pay-your-dues craptastic job as an assistant to the "devilish" editor in chief of a fashion mag.  Since little Andy hates fashion, she thinks she is above it all until she gets sucked into the seductive world of clothes, parties, and being--um--really good at her job.  Along the way, she supposedly loses sight of herself and what is important to her.  

After being forced to work late on her boyfriend's birthday to attend a gala, Andy rushes home to apologize to him instead of staying the extra half hour when a mentor journalist offers to introduce her to editors of the kinds of magazines that she dreams of writing for.  She says no!  She goes home to mopey boyfriend instead!  

This is where the movie first veers off course for me.  Isn't the whole point of craptastic dues-paying jobs and missing loved ones' birthdays precisely for that moment?  What is the point of her work if she doesn't go meet the editor?  Boyfriend is going to be unhappy no matter what.

Then... Emily Blunt's character (did I mention she is my favorite in the movie) fucks up and Andy picks up the slack.  She is rewarded for this by Meryl Streep's character.  Hooray!  All that crap work is paying off, right?  Well no, at least not according to the moral of this story.  Instead, when Andy realizes that she has stabbed Emily Blunt in the back by succeeding, she walks off into the Paris sunset, unwilling to be a terrible person just to succeed at her job.  Meryl Streep watches her leave with a mix of regret and pride.

WTF?  WTF?

Since when is getting ahead in your job because you are better at it than others "stabbing people in the back?"  Isn't that meritocracy?  Isn't that good?  Effectiveness should outweigh seniority in the workplace.  

Since when is it the right choice to leave your career-making job because your friends miss you?  You're supposed to leave your amazing job and work for shit pay at a no name outfit because you'll have more integrity that way?

Oh, and while all this is happening, Andy's boyfriend is moving ahead in his notoriously cutthroat dues-paying field: as a chef.  But no complaining about that.  No.

The message of the movie is this:  Women who want to respect themselves and be showered with love by friends should not succeed in their careers.  And that is one devil of a moral.

an important story

I just added a button on the side of the blog to support Doctors Without Borders' (MSF's) Starved for Attention campaign to "rewrite the story" of childhood malnutrition.

Go to the site, watch the videos, SIGN THE PETITION.

My intention is for the blog to focus on writing, reading, an art. But this is an important issue and a great campaign. Besides, with a tag line about rewriting stories and such incredible photographers as Marcus Bleasdale, Ron Haviv, Jessica Dimmock, and others involved, the campaign certainly has artistic merit.

My favorites are Jessica Dimmock's "A Mother's Devotion" and Franco Pagetti's "The Malnutrition That Shouldn't Be." Jessica's for the breathtaking beautify of her images. Franco's for the heartbreaking story. Watch them. Then take action.