really intense stuff
I think I've mentioned in here a few times that one of my very favourite authors is Stephen King - I also really like him as a guy, and as an essayist and pop commentator. He's just all round awesome.
He just got more awesome. YES, The King just publically said what so many of us already knew - Stephenie Meyer CAN'T WRITE. She CAN'T, you guys. She's a TERRIBLE writer. She can tell a good story, I don't deny that I read the whole Twilight series (and saw the movie but hey - free tickets), but I cringed and chortled and rolled my eyes and was vaguely offended the whole way through them. She is awful at pacing and plotting on the macro level and, like, sentence structure and dialogue on the micro. YES, she often made me laugh for the right reasons (the [intentional] humour in the books is often overlooked) and yes she can hook you and keep you coming, but so can a lot of horrible writers - I'm looking at you, Patterson, Reilly, Coben and Slaughter.
I've also mentioned in here that I don't want to come across as a book snob. I think I've said I read way to much fantasy to be called that, and also too much King. But I do appreciate good writing. Stephen King is a very, very good writer. His stories aren't for everyone, and yes, I do think sometimes his endings don't hold up as well as they could, but he's one of those authors that I find a joy to read. This might be hyperbole, but sometimes just a brilliantly executed sentence can make me put the book aside and just smile happily into space for a while. Tanith Lee gives me that, and so does King. I never got it from Meyer.
(My hate for Meyer is so out of proportion at the moment because of all the problems her damn books are causing for me at work, and I don't like the idea of that whole 'It's cool to bag Stephenie Meyer on the internet!' thing, I admit that. But I also don't like the fact that there are a million teenage [and up] girls jumping on the Meyer bandwagon and thinking that she's the be-all and end-all of literature. It skeeves me out.)
Anyway, I had a day of juxtaposition.
This morning I woke up on my day off in a kind of gloomy, delorous mood. I had just finished The Reader, by Bernhard Schlink, and of course it's the most depressing, thought-provoking, gorgeous work of literature (oh, god, I'm sounding like a Book Snob...), so I decided to watch the movie, starring Kate Winslet. I settled down with my coffee in front of my computer and bawled my way through the entire thing. GOD. That movie is VERY GOOD but VERY VERY SAD. Kate Winslet is brilliant in it, although I've read a few interviews with her that show that she and I have a very different idea of her character.
The story - Michael is a 15 year old boy in post WWII Germany who has an affair with a mysterious, 36 year old woman, Ha. It's all told from his point of view, and (in the book, and I believe in the movie too) she comes across as very vulnerable, spikey, needy, clingy and damaged. They fall in love. The affair lasts for a summer, during which time the boy withdraws from his friends and family to be with her, until one day she disappears, leaving him alone and emotionally bereft. Years later, he is a law student witnessing a war crime trial when he sees her again - as one of the accused. She was an SS Guard at a concentration camp, accused of various things - which you can probably imagine.
The Reader is essentially about guilt. German guilt in post-Nazi Germany especially, but also the boy's guilt - he loved this woman, must he now hate her? Does he try to understand her? Or does understanding lessen her crimes? Does he condemn her outright? She committed the crimes well before the affair, was there something wrong with him in loving her? Also, she has a secret, secret which, if he tells, lessens her crimes somewhat. Is it enough? Does he have the right to tell?
And so on. It's very complex and painted in shades of grey and Hanna is not a paticularly sympathetic character (apart from the SS crimes, her affair with Michael is ultimately damaging and unequal), but you're forced to have sympathy for her, which raises questions of guilt in yourself. I like art that draws you in so deeply. And I know that it's been criticised by some...critics, and while I'm not devaluing those opinions, I also don't entirely agree. But, argh! I think its a very important work, and you should all read/see it.
After watching the movie I checked the mail and found, to my delight, that my Gossip Girl dvds had arrived, so I spent the rest of the day in trashy teen fantasy land. GOD, I love Blair. Could I have chosen two more different forms of entertainment? No, and that's what I love about myself :D
So this entry is long and what I really want to be doing is envying Blair's wardrobe and romantic partners and hair. I'm sorry, guys. I've gone to the sparkle side.
--Cheers, Beck
He just got more awesome. YES, The King just publically said what so many of us already knew - Stephenie Meyer CAN'T WRITE. She CAN'T, you guys. She's a TERRIBLE writer. She can tell a good story, I don't deny that I read the whole Twilight series (and saw the movie but hey - free tickets), but I cringed and chortled and rolled my eyes and was vaguely offended the whole way through them. She is awful at pacing and plotting on the macro level and, like, sentence structure and dialogue on the micro. YES, she often made me laugh for the right reasons (the [intentional] humour in the books is often overlooked) and yes she can hook you and keep you coming, but so can a lot of horrible writers - I'm looking at you, Patterson, Reilly, Coben and Slaughter.
I've also mentioned in here that I don't want to come across as a book snob. I think I've said I read way to much fantasy to be called that, and also too much King. But I do appreciate good writing. Stephen King is a very, very good writer. His stories aren't for everyone, and yes, I do think sometimes his endings don't hold up as well as they could, but he's one of those authors that I find a joy to read. This might be hyperbole, but sometimes just a brilliantly executed sentence can make me put the book aside and just smile happily into space for a while. Tanith Lee gives me that, and so does King. I never got it from Meyer.
(My hate for Meyer is so out of proportion at the moment because of all the problems her damn books are causing for me at work, and I don't like the idea of that whole 'It's cool to bag Stephenie Meyer on the internet!' thing, I admit that. But I also don't like the fact that there are a million teenage [and up] girls jumping on the Meyer bandwagon and thinking that she's the be-all and end-all of literature. It skeeves me out.)
Anyway, I had a day of juxtaposition.
This morning I woke up on my day off in a kind of gloomy, delorous mood. I had just finished The Reader, by Bernhard Schlink, and of course it's the most depressing, thought-provoking, gorgeous work of literature (oh, god, I'm sounding like a Book Snob...), so I decided to watch the movie, starring Kate Winslet. I settled down with my coffee in front of my computer and bawled my way through the entire thing. GOD. That movie is VERY GOOD but VERY VERY SAD. Kate Winslet is brilliant in it, although I've read a few interviews with her that show that she and I have a very different idea of her character.
The story - Michael is a 15 year old boy in post WWII Germany who has an affair with a mysterious, 36 year old woman, Ha. It's all told from his point of view, and (in the book, and I believe in the movie too) she comes across as very vulnerable, spikey, needy, clingy and damaged. They fall in love. The affair lasts for a summer, during which time the boy withdraws from his friends and family to be with her, until one day she disappears, leaving him alone and emotionally bereft. Years later, he is a law student witnessing a war crime trial when he sees her again - as one of the accused. She was an SS Guard at a concentration camp, accused of various things - which you can probably imagine.
The Reader is essentially about guilt. German guilt in post-Nazi Germany especially, but also the boy's guilt - he loved this woman, must he now hate her? Does he try to understand her? Or does understanding lessen her crimes? Does he condemn her outright? She committed the crimes well before the affair, was there something wrong with him in loving her? Also, she has a secret, secret which, if he tells, lessens her crimes somewhat. Is it enough? Does he have the right to tell?
And so on. It's very complex and painted in shades of grey and Hanna is not a paticularly sympathetic character (apart from the SS crimes, her affair with Michael is ultimately damaging and unequal), but you're forced to have sympathy for her, which raises questions of guilt in yourself. I like art that draws you in so deeply. And I know that it's been criticised by some...critics, and while I'm not devaluing those opinions, I also don't entirely agree. But, argh! I think its a very important work, and you should all read/see it.
After watching the movie I checked the mail and found, to my delight, that my Gossip Girl dvds had arrived, so I spent the rest of the day in trashy teen fantasy land. GOD, I love Blair. Could I have chosen two more different forms of entertainment? No, and that's what I love about myself :D
So this entry is long and what I really want to be doing is envying Blair's wardrobe and romantic partners and hair. I'm sorry, guys. I've gone to the sparkle side.
--Cheers, Beck