Uncreated Conscience

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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Last week I swore that this week I would blog about race in fiction. I absolutely intend to adhere to my resolutions, but I will need help in the coming days. Today I am going to blog about representing race in fiction, what I’d like to see, what I think (and hope) works, etc. However, after that, I’m at a bit of a loss as to what to blog about. So please, suggest things to me! Ask questions!

Anyway, before I get into the “heavy” stuff, two things of note! The first is Psychic Roommate and I completed our first 5K race this past Sunday! She ran hers in 30 minutes flat, I clocked in at 31:05. Needless to say, we’re quite proud of ourselves.

The second is I saw Tim Burton’s Alice in Wonderland dressed like this:

Yes, I'm dressed as Alice. And I'm seriously considering going platinum blonde. Yes? No? Bad idea?

Of the movie? Eh. But I’ve always been a huge Alice fan and to date I’ve never come across an adaptation I’ve liked. (Excepting the Disney version, which I apparently watched so often it destroyed the VHS tape. YES, VHS. I’M THAT OLD, OH MY GOD.) As per usual with Tim Burton films, I enjoyed the visuals, Johnny Depp, and Helena Bonham Carter. As per usual (of his recent films), I wasn’t impressed with the rest. It hurts to be a fangirl, sometimes.

Anyway, back to the point: representing race in fiction. I will be upfront in saying that a lot of my impressions come from a YA-bias as that’s mostly what I read outside work, and I was in the age group to grow up with the genre.

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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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Arwen Not Appearing In This Book

Everything I learned about revision I learned from…

…listening to the Writer/Directory commentary on The Lord of the Rings films with Peter Jackson and his writing partners Fran Walsh and Philippa Boyens.

I’ve begun my annual reread of THE LORD OF THE RINGS trilogy by J. R. R. Tolkien (I think that ranks up there as one of the geekiest statements I have ever made). Tolkien forms a large part of my childhood as my dad used to read the books to me before I went to bed. To those who criticize Tolkien as being “dense”, “dry”, and “unreadable” I say Read them aloud. Or find a recording of Tolkien himself reading the books. There is a lovely, oral-storytelling quality to his fiction, well-suited to curling up at the foot of an armchair before a roaring fire on a stormy night. To people who say Tolkien can’t write, well, please to be reading “The Bridge of Khazad-Dum” chapter and tell me that the entire chapter didn’t keep you up at night with the creepy-crawlies.

His prose is evocative and lovely, but I will own that his narrative pacing could use some significant work. Infodumps, strange characters popping up for some deus ex machina before disappearing altogether, entire segments where the characters actually do nothing, etc. I try to get people to listen to THE LORD OF THE RINGS as much as possible because Tolkien is part of a dying breed of writers who are more closely tied to an oral tradition than this generation’s authors (please see: Philip Pullman and Lloyd Alexander).

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I have been far more social this weekend than my little introverted heart can handle and I want nothing more than to crawl into bed with a White-Harp with the bedclothes pulled over my head. Alas, today I must force myself into Manhattan again for the third brunch this weekend. I must confess: I love brunch (both the food and the meal) but I am absolutely brunched-out.

Last weekend my friend Jerry Who and I attempted to see Coraline, but every show had been sold out. This weekend, we attempted to try seeing it again, only to have every show sell out in the Union Square theatre. Again. Thinking on my feet, I decided to get off at Times Square and see if the movie was playing (and not sold out) there. Thankfully there was a showing still open, although it was too late for Jerry Who to attend. Sir Gay, however, was still game, and since we had an hour to kill before the movie started, we went and had pineapple-coconut margaritas the size of our heads at Chevy’s.

Although I will say walking into a 3-D movie completely shitfaced isn’t the the brightest idea we’ve had.

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Twilight the Movie

Friday night instead of watching La Belle et La Bête, I went in an entirely different direction and watched Twilight. I was simultaneously bored and amused, and then utterly conflicted, mostly because my entire reaction was OMG it doesn’t suck! Oh wait… It isn’t by any means a great film (despite the director’s pedigree), but by virtue of the fact that Bella doesn’t make me want to vomit for most of the film, it rises in my estimation. Unfortunately that doesn’t mean it’s not ludicrously bad in spots and some of the dialogue, while lifted directly from the books, is so awful in its cheesiness I cringed with embarrassment for the actors.

However there are times when the movie is wonderfully atmospheric and gothic, the way any good vampire flick ought to be, yet there was still something wanting in the entire film. Take this infamous “meadow scene” for instance:

BELLA: I know what you are…
EDWARD: Say it. Out loud. Say it.
BELLA: Vampire.

And I’m thinking, God, if they weren’t so afraid to let Robert Pattinson off his Hunky Hero leash this could have been so fascinating! Perhaps I’m letting my own deviant proclivities slip, but what he’s saying isn’t too far off from a pimp slapping around his ho and screaming, “Say my name, bitch!” Now, how much more awesome would Twilight have been if it had been played that way? It would have certainly been far less dull.

At least I didn’t waste my time; I managed to finish my scarf while watching the movie.

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Sometimes children amaze me.

Teacher: What country do we live in?
Very enthusiastic little boy: The United States of New York!
Teacher, a few minutes later: Can someone name a state outside of New York?
Very enthusiastic little boy: Brooklyn!

- Overheard in New York

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Once upon a time, there was a little girl who never wanted to grow up.

Peter: Would they send me to school?
Wendy: Yes.
Peter: And to an office?
Wendy: I suppose so.
Peter: Soon I shall be a man. (Teasing.) You can’t catch me and make me a man.
Wendy: Peter…
Peter: (Very seriously.) I want always to be a boy and have fun.
Wendy: That is your biggest pretend.*

The little girl wanted to stay seven years old forever because being a grown-up meant there was something everyone called “life” beyond childhood. As far as she could tell, “life” consisted of having to wear boring clothes, pay boring bills and do boring things like…going to the country club and sitting around listening to other grown-ups talking about boring things like “the stock market” or “mortgages” and other assorted boring subjects. (This ominiscent narrator has realised that she’s just betrayed exactly how upper-middle class the little girl’s upbringing was.)

Of course, that little girl is me. And yes, I know that “life” does not consist of health insurance and rent and being a paper shepherd in an office and that in fact, those “boring” things are only a fraction of what “life” really is. Hell, even as a seven-year-old, I had responsibilities to concern myself with: homework, chores, washing up, etc. “Life” has a duality to it: the routine, mundane everyday bits that include getting a paycheck and doing your laundry by yourself, as well as fun and adventures and play.

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Number of Tolkien books finished: 1 (The Fellowship)
Number of Cassie Claire fics read: 1.7 (Draco Dormiens and Sinister)
Number of hours slept well: 0
Number of times seen The Two Towers trailer: 15 (oh yeah, my Tolkien!Obsession is catching up)
Number of times have seen Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s/Sorcerer’s Stone: 41 (yep, that’s in total)
Number of times have seen Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring: 13 (in total, less only because I don’t own the DVD)

“I can’t help it,” said Draco. “I may be ill, but I’m still callous and strange.”
-Draco Veritas by Cassandra Claire

9:01 a.m. Who is “Elizabeth” and why does she keep sending my IM porn invitations?! GAAH! It pisses me off like no other. I’m not logged onto AIM for ONE minute before my screen is inundated with messages like “Hi, sexy. Cum see me, Elizabeth, from Texas, who’s lonely because my boyfriend just left me for my twin sister.” Of course, her screenname has “Marie012XX” or something like that in it. And note the spelling of “cum.” Do these people have any class?

9:07 a.m. Eurgh, definitely feel worse than yesterday. I can’t breathe. There’s an unbearable pressure around my ribcage and I can’t draw breath. If I do, it either hurts or the pressure makes me cough. And I’m just plain exhausted. I can’t sleep or I slip into odd dreams from which I feel I won’t be able to wake myself.

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