Pages

Friday, August 27, 2010

on books

Hi. I, Kathleen Morrison, am a bibliophile. And I harbor a (semi) secret love for books typically considered sci-fi/fantasy, young adult, or young adult sci-fi/fantasy. I used to try to keep this love on the down low, but my nerdiness can’t be denied, so what the hell. Plus, I feel less alone after discovering this:

http://www.foreveryoungadult.com/2010/08/18/the-long-awaited-hunger-games-drinking-game/

Yesterday the final book in my newest favorite trilogy (The Hunger Games) arrived in the mail. I sat down, opened it up, and didn’t put it back down until it was over.
If you haven’t heard about these books, you can read this non-spoilery review/summary:

http://thehappyfreelancer.com/2010/09/08/book-review-the-hunger-games-trilogy-no-spoilers/

But what you SHOULD do is run to the nearest bookstore, buy all three and then call in sick to work so you can read them RIGHT NOW.

What makes a good book? For me, it is simple. I want to read it again. Bonus points for making me cry, but it is not essential. Books are like old friends, to be visited over and over again.

It’s not (necessarily) about having an original story. There’s nothing original about wizards or vampires, or love triangles (TEAM PEETA!), or even the idea of real people being forced to fight for their lives for public entertainment.

What it is about is writing a story that your audience can’t help but become attached to, and to write it with intelligence, style, finesse and heart.

Twilight is popular because it achieves the first but not the second. Here’s why: 95% of pre-teen and teenage girls aren’t born with oodles of confidence. They feel awkward and weird and desperately want someone to tell them they are beautiful, special. My personal theory is that Stephenie Meyer was unpopular growing up, and Twilight is her way to live vicariously through Bella, who, despite being CONSTANTLY described as ordinary, clumsy, and awkward, somehow gets the perfect, god-like, most-gorgeous-creature-alive-or-undead Edward to fall for her. But you know what? Who wouldn’t want that? The very core of the story is what every teenage girl who has ever felt bad about themselves dreams of. Too bad that story is papered over with layers of self-dislike, sexual abuse, and the ideas that stalkers are romantic and that a woman literally should not want to live without a man to make her existence worthwhile. Vomit.

And then there’s the writing. I’m not going to get into the (third-grade level) writing.

Thank god that for every few Stephenie Meyers, there is a Philip Pullman, a Katherine Neville, a J.K. Rowling and now, a Suzanne Collins.

Great writers like this write with an intellect that challenges the reader to grow, yet also with an effortlessness that keeps the pages turning, one after another.

Most importantly, they aren’t afraid to write something that’s hard.

Every single character that the reader cares about in Twilight gets a happy ending. The entire Cullen family survives multiple battles with nary a scratch, allowing Bella and Edward to sparkle and scamper around in their woodland home; Bella turns out to be a naturally perfect veg vampire, Jacob (creepily) falls in love with Bella’s infant daughter – therefore getting to stay friends without continuing to endanger the Bella/Edward perfect perfection, even Bella’s dad gets a lady friend AND gets to stick around to hang out with his vamp daughter. This is the mark of a bad writer.

Not so with the other writers mentioned. Characters die (RIP Dumbledore/Hedwig/Fred/etc RIP wayyyy too many to name in the Hunger Games). True love doesn’t always conquer all (I still cry every time I finish His Dark Materials). War is scary and it forces impossible, terrible decisions (Hunger Games). These things are hard. They are hard to write and even harder to read. But they are moving and satisfying and beautiful.

I’ve read His Dark Materials once a year since the sixth grade. I’ve read each one of the seven Harry Potter books between two and eight times. The Eight, three times. And I can’t wait to re-read the Hunger Games sometime in the future. PEOPLE: PUT DOWN TWILIGHT AND READ THESE BOOKS.

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

adventures with kittens: hide and seek

Brian brought me something tiny and furry last night. Forget jewelry, THAT's love. Meet Penny:


Pretty much everyone who knows me knows that I am a cat person. Like the most cat person of cat people. I wish I could post a picture of me with the last kitten I got, when I was 9 and my full-blown awkward stage was blooming, but said picture is at Chez Mom & Dad. (By the by, the last kitten I got is now the cat I still have, although he resides at my parents’ house. His name is Mischief and he is getting old, has been fat, and is recovering from feline diabetes. I love him.) Anyway, I hope this sketch will give you an idea of what it looked like:

 
But back to the new bundle of joy. Immediately upon being let out of her carrier, she made a mad dash for the tiny space under the heater, where she tried to stay all evening (except we kept pulling her out to pet/snuggle, which she would tolerate for approximately thirty seconds, then as soon as she could, run back to her heater haven).

Bedtime: before hitting the hay we decide to look for her again, to be sure she's not trapped or something. She's not in her usual haunts, which at this point include under the heater, under the couch… pretty much anywhere she can be “under.” However, she’s not in any of them. Finally I find her behind our printer, standing on her hind legs between the printer and the wall. She seems very alarmed to be found in this position.

2 a.m.: Brian, who is suffering from a raging case of indigestion and can't sleep, wakes me up for a kitten scavenger hunt. She's not in her carrier/bed, or under anything… Brian eventually points her out to me, on the desk behind our picture frames. She is adorable. We are slightly perplexed as to how she got on the desk, since I doubt she can jump that high yet. She seems too sleepy to care that we’ve found her in this position.

4 a.m.: Brian, who at this point has given up on sleep, wakes me up again to extract the kitten from behind the bookshelf, where he worries she will get stuck and/or pee on things that will be hard for us to clean. She seems pissed that we have found her in this position and are making her leave it.

5 a.m.: I wake up to find Brian is still awake and he informs me that the kitten is being unusually affectionate. I find her laying on top of the printer (a new favorite spot, at least for this hour). I put her on the desk and she proceeds to mew, purr, rub against my hands and climb all over me. Eeeeeee!!! Happiness. Pure happiness.

Unfortunately, once she’d had enough of that she retreated to under the bookshelf, where she is now ignoring me. She plays me so hot and cold.

EDIT: Picture acquired.
WHAT. ARE. THOSE. SHORTS?!?!?!

Sunday, August 22, 2010

life's important questions

The scene:
Our living room, last night.

The players:
1. Me, on the couch in my underwear watching Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire on ABC Family, passed out due to massive amounts of Mexican food and red wine; possibly drooling... I am attractive.
2. Brian, coming in to find me in said position.

The time:
Evening. Harry Potter is nearly over.  

Brian: “You know, it seems like a lot of work to get Harry into this tournament and try to make him win. Wouldn’t it be a lot easier if Voldermort just made a portkey out of one of his Playboys or something?”

Wouldn’t it indeed.

In an unrelated note, he also asked the following:

“You know its 10:30, right? What are you going to do when school starts and you can’t just sleep all the time?”

To which I responded, “I don’t know WHAT you are talking about,” rolled over, mumbled something else about ice cream and/or kittens and drooled some more.

In an unrelated (but still related to the first note) note, Daniel Radcliffe’s hair was seriously JANKED UP in HP4.
Thank god he cut that shit.

Disclaimer: Brian is a great fan of all the Harry Potter books (after I brought him into civilized society by making him read them last year). Don’t send him hate mail for allegedly not appreciating J. K. Rowling’s genius.

Friday, August 20, 2010

20-something (if only I could remember what)

Someone asked my age the other day and I sort of stuttered around before blurting out "22?" I legitimately forgot how old I was.

I've often said in the past few years that I still feel 18 years old. And I do. Except I don't. I mean, I just moved 1,200+ miles all by myself (well, not really, I moved with a MAN which is even more of a scandal) to a big city where I have to pay rent and bills and grocery shop and stick to a budget and do lots of grown-up, scary/boring stuff. Yet, I still don't feel really grown up.

Luckily, people much smarter than me have researched and validated this feeling.
Read more here!:
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/22/magazine/22Adulthood-t.html?_r=2

(Seriously, read it. It is super interesting.)

I am in awe of articles like this. I can't believe I will soon start classes that presumably will teach me the mechanics behind writing this great, although I live in secret terror that I will never have the pure talent to back up any amount of booklearning. Regardless of those feelings, validated or not, I know I need to work on my writing. Millsaps showed me that I can crank out a paper or news article quickly and fairly well, but what about storytelling? Humor? Writing about the things I really care about? That is what this blog experiment is all about. I’m not going to pretend I will write every day, although I wish I would/could. But I will try to make writing and thinking about writing a constant part of my life.

Shall we?