Uncreated Conscience

This morning I tweeted about lusting after Pottery Barn monogrammed towels and then felt the need to defend the fact that I have a yen for interior decoration. But why? It was a throwaway comment I made after Pottery Barn sent me an email blast about what was on sale. I don’t think any one cared or judged me for being unabashedly “girly”, yet I felt the need to qualify myself. That’s silly, so I am going to out myself, the way I came to terms with being Korean.

I’m a girl and that’s okay.

I admit it: I like playing dressup, makeup, and interior decorating.

This train of thought was brought on by Natalie Whipple’s post on “strong female characters”, but more than that, I find myself mulling about “feminism” and “femininity” and “femaleness” more and more these days. I’ve had a weird relationship to being “a girl” almost my entire life and it’s only recently have I been able to articulate my issues and then try and come to terms with them.

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Last night, in a fit of insomnia, I rewatched most of Nostalgia Chick‘s videos, which probably isn’t the most helpful in getting the brain to shut off, because I spent more time thinking about the questions she brings up than trying to get back to sleep.

If you aren’t familiar with Nostalgia Chick, I suggest you all remedy this immediately, especially if you were born between the years of 1980 and 1990. She is the Distaff Counterpart to the Nostalgia Critic, who examines the media of our formative years (e.g. Transformers, Animaniacs, etc.) without the rosy-colored nostalgia glasses.

Of course, I’m fonder of the Nostalgia Chick (who doesn’t update often enough, grrr!) because she tends to analyse and ask questions from a feminist perspective. In the video I posted, the Nostalgia Chick looks at several cartoons from the late 80s and early 90s and ends with a very, very important question: why is it that we believe that everyone can relate to a male protagonist, but only females can relate to female protagonists?

To that end, why is it that when a girl is awesome, she’s labeled a “strong female character” and not a “strong character” period? Or worse, why is it that the notion of a “strong female character” necessarily requires that she be “kickass” or “strong in a typical masculine fashion”?

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Beyond Heaving Bosoms by the Smart Bitches

Last night I was rereading the Smart Bitches‘ BEYOND HEAVING BOSOMS because I was in the mood for nonfiction and a few laughs. I cannot recommend this book enough to people for their interesting and well-read insights on the genre, as well as their snarky-yet-intelligent examination of romance, feminism, and fiction.

The other reason I reread was to reassure myself I wasn’t alone.

Alone in what, you ask? You don’t even read romance! True, but tropes that occur in romance novels also occur in romantic storylines and I just wanted to make sure other women found the overbearing alpha male just as obnoxious as I do. Okay, so maybe no one else finds the alpha as obnoxious as I do, but it’s gratifying to know that THERE ARE OTHER PEOPLE who find this hero problematic.

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One of the most iconic Bad Boys ever.

I’ve never been a fan of the Bad Boy in fiction, but lately I’ve become even more fed up with him. Mostly because he swaggers onto the page and expects me to find him sexy by virtue of the fact that he’s “bad”. Or something. Maybe “mysterious”?

What is it that’s so appealing about the Bad Boy that he now seems to be the default romantic hero? Tell me, because I would really like to know what it is that people love about him. Admittedly I’m not his type because if I ever fell for a boy in high school, it was the Class Clown. (But since I went to an all-girls prep school, the point is moot.) I like a man who can make me laugh.

I understand (I think) why the Bad Boy is appealing on an archetypal level. Danger is sexy. It is; I’m not gonna lie. Mystery is intriguing. I get that because I’m susceptible to those charms. I have an, um, inappropriate crush on Benjamin Linus (I’m…working on it.) Han Solo has my space-pirate-rogue-lovin’ heart forever. I adore Edward Fairfax Rochester and his manipulative, dickish, bigamist ways! So why do most Bad Boys turn me off?

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Me and Bear and White-Harp.

Thsee days I seem to be on a romance/feminist kick, so why not continue in that vein today?

Lately in my leisure time, I’ve been coming upon some incredible reading fatigue. This is pretty rare for me (and somewhat fatal in this business) as, like Hannah Green in WONDERBOYS, I read all the time because it’s compulsive. I’ll read the nutrition panels of cereal boxes at the breakfast table, the ingredients of shampoo bottles in the shower, the backs of people’s newspapers on the subway, etc. More and more I’ve been turning to comfort rereads instead of actively searching for something new and this is a bit troubling.

What do I want in a book? I want really wonderful, three-dimensional female characters, a great story, and a great romance. A lot of books I read deliver on two of the three, but rarely on all points. Many books deliver on a great story, but it’s where ladies and love are concerned that I’m feeling a certain wariness.

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My newest movie obsession

For the first weekend in ages, I did nothing but watch movies and it was GLORIOUS. I rewatched Dangerous Beauty and Much Ado About Nothing and then watched Amadeus no less than three times. On the same day. (I know, I know, I tend to obsession.)

I think my taste in movies can be extrapolated and extended to my taste in books. Why do I love Dangerous Beauty? It’s an intelligent historical chick movie. Also, it has courtesans and apparently whenever people think of “courtesans”, they think of me. Why do I love Much Ado About Nothing? Because it is delightful. No other reason. Seriously, it is CHARMING and the cheer is infectious. Also, a little ridiculous, but I like that sort of thing. Also, this is my favourite of Shakespeare’s comedies.

As for Amadeus, well, this is a little harder to articulate. Certainly I love Mozart and his music, but one can’t help but be gratified by a great story well-told. Revenge, passion, the nature of genius, the pain of mediocrity, humor, tragedy–this movie is wonderful in every sense of the word. I could go on and on about its brilliance, but everything I feel about this film can be summed up in its title: Amadeus, Beloved of God. One of Mozart’s names rendered into Latin (he was christened with Gottlieb, but went by Amadé in his professional life), but also a recurring theme throughout the play/movie: divine inspiration. Oh! Oh! How I love this movie so.

Anyway, despite having watched movies all weekend, what I really want to do in this blog post is was review two very lovely books, GUARDIAN OF THE DEAD by Karen Healey and THE DEMON’S COVENANT by Sarah Rees Brennan. More after the cut.

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NAAMAH'S CURSE by Jacqueline Carey

I make it no secret how much I adore Jacqueline Carey and her Kushiel books. I have read every novel set in that universe. There have been 7 books to date.

Carey writes with lush, descriptive (but not overwrought) prose, develops a killer fantasy world that is both heartbreakingly realistic and a place to which I want to escape, portrays wonderfully nuanced and sexy relationships between all her characters, and has created my favourite feminist heroine of all time: Phèdre nò Delaunay, a kinky, bisexual, sexually masochistic courtesan-cum-spy.

Yep.

NAAMAH’S CURSE is her latest book (available for pre-order), the second in Moirin’s trilogy, the first being NAAMAH’S KISS. And right on the heels of my race-in-fiction week: LOOK AT THE COVER.

I might love her even more now.

You know, back in the days before I started working in publishing, you really couldn’t get me to shut up online; I blogged with such frequency it was ridiculous. Now that I have actual substantive things to say, I can’t corral my undergrad expository paper-writing tendencies enough to distill my thoughts into short, byte-sized informative posts, so I often don’t bother. Not to mention I lack the time. So kudos to all the industry professionals like Rachelle Gardner, Nathan Bransford, and Kristin Nelson for blogging every day! (Although I haven’t yet read an editor who blogs everyday…maybe that in itself is quite telling…)

Anyway, I was going to review MAGIC UNDER GLASS, discuss storytelling and craft, dissect the idea of literary fiction with a commercial bent, and write about half a dozen other topics, but didn’t have time. So you know what? I’m going to blog about the first thing that comes to mind today.

Which is The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

And specifically the Disney version. Because I rewatched it last night. And I kind of love the movie and have developed a newfound appreciation for it.

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Last night Bear and I went to his friends’ apartment for a potluck dinner and an evening of board games. After the standard games of Taboo, Apples to Apples, and Dirty Minds, we decided to try our hand at a weird game called Quelf, which is possibly a game one should play when one is SHITFACED DRUNK or tripping on acid. Or else the creators of the game were possibly on some hallucinogenic drugs. Highlights from this game includes Bear and I have to repeat everything we say twice for the entire fucking game, Chris and his fiancée playing the air piano every time someone rolled a one, and Bear’s roommate Oz performing a bellydance for everyone.

Because I didn’t get around to it on Friday, my promised thoughts on The Disreputable History.

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