I'm a Fan

I've written my first book review for my IS class and I'm quite proud of it. Other than the fact that I forgot to mention what the book is about (oops!), I think it's pretty good. In fact, I'm going to post it for you all to read, as if you need more to read. It's a review of Stephen McCauley's latest book Alternatives to Sex. I was inspired to read his work after we heard him speak at Lesley's graduation. Here's a link as well to an interview on NPR as well. He's a funny, funny man.

Book Review:

Alternative Lifestyles

Not everyone is comfortable reading about anonymous gay sex generated from online chat rooms. For that matter, not everyone is comfortable reading a novel about real estate brokers. But Stephen McCauley is just brilliant enough in Alternatives to Sex to make you overlook any squeamishness you might have about subject matter—particularly because he manages to explore within such a framework themes such as a society’s reaction to disaster (namely, 9/11) and our innate need for spiritual fulfillment.

William Collins, a real-estate agent, is a forty-four year old self-effacing clean-freak that we immediately warm to. In one of his many confessional moments he admits: “I like to think of myself as highly ethical, although what that boils down to isn’t making careful ethical choices but acting on impulse and then advertising my guilt and regret about having done so.” McCauley continues on with similar such witty, urbane language, spinning a tale with a cast of eclectic characters. Though the storyline is sometimes predictable, above all, it is McCauley’s acute observations about everyday American life that make this book so readable. Like many Stephen McCauley novels (The Object of My Affection or The Easy Way Out for example), reading Alternatives to Sex feels akin to watching an episode of Six Feet Under: you feel a little guilty that you’re watching non-educational television, but it’s some of the most daring, edgy, intelligent television you’ve ever seen.

McCauley casually reveals a typical yet profound response to the 9/11 attacks: “Since the tragedy of the preceding September, everyone I knew was trying to choose between combating the collective evil of mankind by putting selfishness aside and doing good, and abandoning altruism altogether and doing whatever it took to feel good. The result seemed to be a lot of infidelity and binge eating, followed by resolutions to curtail same.” His characters ring true because they struggle with the same mundane, day to day issues of the average person.

The narrative offers up a contemporary mélange of lifestyles: William’s best friend Edward is a flight attendant who is afraid to fly after September 11th. His artist tenant Kumiko is so passive-aggressive that she has not paid rent in months. We meet a Marty, a black female ex-Marine who has a self-help business called Release the Beast; a compulsive apartment shopper who is an anorexic college professor; a doobie-smoking pet-shop owner; a mysterious gay Belgian shoe-factory owner; and a wealthy couple in the midst of marital struggles whom William hopes to befriend.

If there are moments when the author uses obvious devices, such as a notebook that William records his thoughts into (Hmmm, do you think someone will find the notebook and read what he’s written?), or annoyingly divides every scene by using humorous and clever titles, we forgive him. Mainly because these devices often work. His titles are clever: “Come Again?”, “Contemptuous Passion”, and “All Her Shameful Secrets”.

McCauley is a writer who is adept at attacking large subjects with irony and accessible yet erudite language. (How many writers can make the word ‘parsimoniousness’ seem unpretentious?) It is McCauley’s humor that levels the playing field. We do not feel he is judging, even when his characters explore the oft-taboo subjects of religion and politics:

“I’m baffled by spirituality,” William confesses. “When people talk about their spiritual quests and the comfort they take in spiritual pursuits, I usually have no idea what they’re talking about. Or to be honest, I often have the impression that they don’t know what they’re talking about….Religion, spirituality’s sturdier cousin, has its drawbacks, like, for example, being the cause of eighty-five percent of the violent conflict in the world. But at least religions have specificity….Religions have a narrative driving them, and they have, in some form or other, God….Spirituality, in contrast, has eye pillows and green tea.”

Though William Collins’ journey from anonymous online sex to self-awareness is not the most moving of stories, it is Stephen McCauley’s command of language and sharp sense of humor that carry us through. I may not be yearning to read more of William Collins (the character’s) life, but I am determined to read more of Stephen McCauley’s words.

Bare Bones

Lately, I've been lying in bed at night and thinking about how underneath all of this still fairly smooth skin lies nothing but a skeleton. The realization that that's all I really am has been sort of freaking me out. I don't know what got me thinking about that-thoughts of death, disappearance, essence. I don't mean to be macabre, but I've been feeling my mortality.

Then, my husband and I went into town-- he talked me into attending one of his politico functions (it was a war protest sort of thing, so I thought I should go-- was feeling the guilt of not doing anything further than donating a few dollars here and there, but that's another discussion altogether). So, when this "action" was over, we happened to walk right by the Bodies Exhibit.

We had to go in.

It was inspiring to see so many people, of all ages and economic backgrounds educating themselves on a weekday afternoon. And paying a bit of money to do it. The exhibit is layed out nicely, with plenty of information, and has a most excellent volunteer staff that can answer almost all questions. It's amazing how little we know about ourselves. Anatomy should be a requisite in all high schools.

Here's what I've been thinking about since: Why are we grossed out by our own bodies? Why did my stomach turn while looking at the muscles pulled off the bone? Why was I unable to look at the tiny preserved fetuses? My husband thought that it is our survival instincts kicking in--that , like pain, they serve the purpose of letting us know there is something wrong if we're seeing blood and guts. I always thought I was heartier, but now I know I could never be a surgeon or a coroner.

I'm not sure I'm any closer to feeling comfortable with Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust, but it's good to have a bit of working knowledge about this form I'm walking around in.

It's All Crap

It's unfortunate, these feelings of defeat and in-accomplishment (I know, that's not a word but it's appropriate). They really do me no good at all. You see, my foolish foolish idea of not working this semester has exploded in my face. It was a pipe dream, a long shot, but I thought perhaps we could pull it off. In a perfect world, it may have worked-- but you know, cars keep breaking down and tools need to be purchased. Dinner plans are made and birthdays arise. Life costs money, and I'm unwilling to Suffer for Art. I did it for years and it's not any more fruitful. So, I'm back up on my horse and I'm galloping down to Texas once more. Houston Fashion Week, you know (Why o Why is it always the Texans who need my help?- rhetorical question)

And all this frustration leads to a frantic need to finish my schoolwork before I go, which leads to an absolute grinding halt in my abilities. Instantly my fingers forget how to type (unless, of course it is frivolous ranting that is pouring out), my eyes stare blankly at the screen and I can't remember what my character's motivations are and I can't figure out if my thoughts are cliche. It all seems like crap.

On the upside, I got my comments back from my professor and one of the nice things she said was:

"All in all, though, this is a great first draft".

The "though" in that sentence was in regards to the many many bad things, of which, I will only share that I messed up some punctuation on my quotes, which is pretty embarrassing for a grad student.

And Once Again I'm Floored by Technology

I’m not the most tech-savvy person, but normally I do pretty well. But in this day and age, you have to move fast if you want to keep up. Recently, through research I was doing for my Book Review class, I found out about a thing called a webfeed. I had no idea such technology existed. Where have I been? How long has this been going on? Ironic that it took a site about reviewing hard-bound, old-school novels to inform me.

Basically, a webfeed will give you a quick list of all the things happening on all your favorite websites—every day! So, instead of having to check ten different book review sites, I just scan the feeds to see if I want to read a certain review. As long as the web site you like has streaming ability--a little button that looks like this: you’re golden. I used the Firefox program SAGE- it's free & is pretty simple. I suggested to my husband that he set up a feed for all his political chatty-chat he enjoys. Bug and ti could do one for knitting sites.

What a world we’re living in.
Ten years ago I swore I’d never own a computer or a cell phone.

If you already know about RSS and XML I commend you, but if you don’t, you can read up on it here….
http://blog.contentious.com/archives/2003/10/18/what-are-webfeeds-rss-and-why-should-you-care

No Tube

A couple of weeks ago my husband was talking to a friend of ours, going on about how he wanted to get a flat-screen TV, wouldn’t it look wonderful in the living room. I hear them talking and shout from the kitchen (okay, it’s basically the same room so I didn’t really shout) “No way. Not going to happen. Absolute last thing on the list of needs.” He pouted a little bit and then we all laughed at the stereotypical roles D & I have taken on.

Guess what broke this weekend? Yep. Our television. Just stopped working, one straight glowing line across the screen, though you can still hear the audio. "Suspicious," you say, "that it just stopped working?" Yes, very suspicious.

In any case, we have been several days without the raucous thing and what silent bliss. We’ve never been huge TV fans, in fact, we don’t even have cable so we’d mostly watch PBS (big confession, I like American Idol too), but we always ate dinner while watching something. Several nights a week we’d watch a movie.

We’ve since looked at the prices for TVs online and Holy $%**#!!! They are spendy! (I got my previous one from a friend for $25). Now D agrees with me that we should wait a while, particularly if he wants a flat panel. So, we’ll be reverting back to the days similar to our artistic Bohemian twenties when we thought television was a waste of time, and oh, so uncool. What do you want to bet I’ll get a lot more done?

And I'm Back

Well, as usual, I’m having difficulty keeping up with blogging on top of the rest of my life. But now that I have a breather I want to write a little bit about what has gone on with me in the past weeks in regards to my writing.
Something clicked, and it wasn’t a malfunctioning cog in my brain, it was a synthesis. Suddenly I felt able to take a step back from my work and cut, cut, cut all of those questionable sentences, all of those thoughts that nagged at me. In the past I have clung to beautiful sounds and brilliant ideas even if they did not make for a good story. As it turns out, I may be learning something after all. And what I believe I am learning is a little bit of control: how to take a piece and point it—not in the direction that I wanted it to go, but in the direction the story needs to go.

Now, we’ll see what happens when I get my packet back, but for now I’m going to kick back and ride on the high of thinking that I very well might be able to do this after all.