one to save for later

Something was nagging at me to give "The Velveteen Principles" a look. This book, by Toni Raiten-D'Antonio, was lent to me by my mother, who said she hadn't read the whole thing yet but thought it was interesting. I made it a little ways in -- to page 28. I do agree that it's a good concept, but it hasn't grabbed me yet. Written by a therapist, the book suggests we can learn valuable lessons from "The Velveteen Rabbit." The stuffed bunny is sad because he's not as nice and shiny as the other toys, but in the end the boy's love for him allows him to become real. Or, Real, as the word is portrayed in EVERY instance in this book. The author says the children's book can show us how to stop objectifying ourselves and just be real.

The self-acceptance that came with my attempt to be more Real made me feel less anxious and more comfortable in everyday life. It also affected the way I viewed others. I became more patient and openhearted, and this immediately brought me closer to the people I love. This made sense. After all, if this new understanding gave me permission to be specifically myself, then I certainly had to extend the same permission to others. (10)

I discovered that everyone's internal process was unique. I couldn't assume anything about anyone. Just as we know that no two snowflakes are identical, so it goes with Real people. The variety is endless and delightful. (11)

To that last sentence, I wanted to add: " ... and gets boring after a while." Perhaps you have to be in the right mood to read a book like this. If you work in an environment in which you continually interact with strangers, i.e. customers, you are expected to act in a certain way, i.e. gracious and perky. I currently (emphasis on temporarily) work in such an environment, and I have in the past, also. I admit I'm good at faking nice, but I grumble about it to myself a bit. I'm certainly a friendly person, but I'm not a big believer in small talk. If I'm invited, I'll play along, but I'm not usually the initiator. I can tell which people want to be talked to, and which would rather just get the hell wherever they're going. So the idea of seeing individual people as "delightful" is one I can put in practice only in certain situations, i.e. when I'm meeting someone I truly have a reason to invest in.

This book was written for people who are not being true to themselves. They have turned themselves into objects to be compared with others. The author specifically mentions how we might hold ourselves up to impossible standards portrayed by models or athletes. People who try to be "more" than they really are might obsess about their weight, their car, money, clothes, etc. I am not one of those people. And yes, the author writes that no one wants to admit they are an "object" person, but I shop at TJ Maxx and Goodwill. I love my car because I picked it out and I pay for it, not because it's flashy (it's not). I know what it's like to be untrue to myself, because I've been in relationships that required me to stifle my real self. I rationalized it by saying I was "adapting," but I always knew better. The most basic example I can come up with is that I was with a man who wanted me to have long hair. Short hair was "lesbian" hair. So, I grew my hair out and hated it. Now single, I have short hair and I love it, even if some people teasingly call it "boy" hair.

I'm not trying to say, "I'm so perfect, I don't need the help this book has to offer," but the best part of the book so far was when the author said the rabbit felt defective. I thought that was an idea applicable to more people, because you can feel defective without trying to overcompensate. However, I guess the overcompensation comes in because some of the other toys in the boy's room fell apart when they cracked under "the pressure to excel" (21).

The worst part so far was when the author talked about shame. She starts off great, then takes it one step too personally, I feel.

Shame is so unsettling that we can recall it long after the moment has passed. (This is why we all remember those times in childhood when we were ashamed.) (19)

The parenthetical statement is a little unnecessary. The first sentence is plenty. Why prompt the reader to recall specific moments they are ashamed of? As she says, people don't forget shame, so they likely still feel bad about themselves for those moments. I'm no therapist, but as a reader I'd rather take in what she says at my own pace -- let it digest -- without this bump in the road.

I may not pick this book up again for a while. I think it might be a good pick-me-up for when you're feeling bad about yourself, but as a leisurely read it's just a little annoying.

everything in moderation

I promise to spend quality time inside my head tonight, rather than in the magic window.

Thanks, man.

just let him read vonnegut

Dear God,
Please make sure my letters of recommendation got to their respective university admissions offices on time.
Love,
Ginny

I received a postcard from Columbia, stating my application and fee had been received. Hurray! Wait ... there aren't any little check marks next to "transcript" and "letters of recommendation." I'm hoping this is an issue of organization, not one of my documents not arriving. I spent a lot of today browsing blogs, and I've got a nice little collection going in my Google Reader. I've basically read enough to know this is the field I want to work in, but I'm going to have to work my butt off catching up. Part of that involves reading "trendy," newer books, like "The Witch of Portobello" and "The Da Vinci Code." I know I've already mentioned this, but after reading bookish people's snubs of the latter, I almost cringe thinking about associating myself with the book. I never wanted to, but I'm just assuming the people who dislike it aren't judging it without having read it themselves. And like I said, I got a hardback for 99 cents. But I'm starting with the former, having never read "The Alchemist" or hardly any other such "trendy" book. My version of a trendy book includes things like "The Lovely Bones," "The Da Vinci Code," "Tuesdays With Morrie" -- basically the books that spend an eternity on the bestseller list.

When I became interested in "Portobello," I wasn't aware it was becoming a trend. I saw it in the mini Borders and just liked the way the cover looked and read. "How do we find the courage to always be true to ourselves--even if we are unsure of who we are?" the inside flap queries. I figured I'd run across it eventually, and suddenly my mother was on a mission to find this book cheap. She must've asked me a dozen times how to spell Paulo Coelho -- and I still can't remember if it's LH or HL. Maybe if I pronounce it "coal hoe." I've been saying "co ell o," but I don't know if that's right. Maybe I'm just burnt out, but I got bored reading reviews of this book. I'm almost bored writing about it. Maybe that's because I thought "The Alchemist" looked boring. Yeah, yeah, "don't judge ... "

One I have judged already is "Shadow of the Dolls." Apparently a modern writer got hold of Susann's first draft of a sequel for Anne and Neely, and lo, sequel city. I was wary after reading that it took place in the '80s, but with the girls just 10 years older -- that's more than a "liberty," it's heresy. Still curious, though, I read through the first few pages on Amazon. I was turned off simply because the first scene starred Neely, and I was appalled by references to liposuction and Godiva. Not to mention "Cardio, schmardio." Gag me with a spoon.

I'm no Sophie Kinsella fanatic, and I don't read science fiction. I'm embarrassed to go through a check-out line with romance novels, so when I'm feeling generous I order them from Amazon to send to my best friend, who lives far away. The universities asking for my recently read books was the kick in the pants I needed to dive into "Lamb" and "Valley of the Dolls." I want to boast a diverse library and be able to say I've read and been enlightened by some important books. I don't want to get sucked in by "trendy," but it may be a while before I conquer "Mein Kampf." Likewise with words. I guess I'm just a girl on a mission to make up for all the intellectual stimulation I missed out on in the past 10 years -- wasting my time trying to nurture doomed and destructive relationships with guys who were lucky to finish high school.

I'm not saying I want to be a book snob per se, for I'm certainly in no place to discuss Pushkin or Kahlil Gibran. But maybe I can weave some oxymoronic "respectable trendy" into my library and not get caught in headlights.

men are pills

Tonight I finished the last 20 pages or so of "Valley of the Dolls." I almost cried reading about how Anne dealt with Lyon's infidelity. I've been there. I wouldn't say the book as a whole is depressing, but that certainly was my feeling at the end. At Neely's third near-death experience with the pills, I rolled my eyes at the girl crying wolf. "I don't have to live by the stinking rules made for ordinary people," Neely says. Lyon and Neely's relationship eventually fizzled, and it seemed as though it had existed only as a tool for advancing his business. If Neely was happy, he was making money. The funny thing is, Lyon never seemed like the type to care that much about money. He lived decently in London, but his writing career didn't make him rich. His affair with the latest Broadway prodigy in the last few pages suggests either he was motivated by money -- or that he simply couldn't live without being worshiped. And perhaps it wasn't so much Anne's betrayal that changed him, but her lack of faith in him. Of course, she didn't lose faith in him at all -- she just fumbled the ball. And she loved him less only after his ultimate sin. I half expected Anne to succeed in a suicide on the last page, but she chose to remain in a robotic existence. Now instead of a devoted husband, she has the dolls to depend on. But they, too, could inevitably betray her.

*************************************

I spent some time checking out more blogs today, and was simultaneously encouraged and discouraged by my findings. I've posted links to the three most informative blogs I've found so far, and they are indeed where I was informed that the job market in book publishing is bleak, but also informed that you can start your publishing career anywhere. Well, I'm gonna try to make it work, because I can't think of a single thing I'd rather do. I'm getting a kick out of reading notes, questions and suggestions from authors, agents and editors. I know I've only scratched the surface, but I don't plan to quit any time soon. If anybody can do it, I can do it, right? So until I hear from one of the universities, I'm on my own course of study.

I may not start the next book tonight. I have a feeling I'll have more fun scrolling through reviews and analysis of "Valley of the Dolls."

reality bites

I almost don't know what to say for Anne. She's learned the hard way about love and truthfulness. Henry isn't even the hero. For all his schemes, Anne's situation doesn't genuinely improve. He helped her betray the man she loved, and convinced her Lyon would be grateful later. No one likes being played for a fool, so Lyon turns the tables on Anne. It's unfortunate, of course, but it's the kind of thing that happens in real life.

When she held him in her arms she suddenly knew it was important to love--more important than being loved. (426)

She should've known she could no more force Lyon's hand than Kevin or Allen could force hers. She finally made the connection between the two, but somehow it still wasn't enough. She had never learned how to love between simple caring and romantic fervor.

It was unbelievable. History repeating itself. Kevin had suddenly looked like Allen Cooper--the same cowlike expression and the same childish rage. And once again it was Lyon who was sitting back, demanding nothing and promising nothing, while she was being torn in two. (429)

The difference here is that Kevin allows himself to turn into every prick I've ever known. He alternates between rage and pleading. Lyon recognizes the significance, but the situation only superficially resonates with Anne.

"I'm talking about love," he said hotly. "Not begging! Love shouldn't make a beggar of one. I wouldn't want love if I had to beg for it, to barter or qualify it. And I should despise it if anyone ever begged for my love. Love is something that must be given--it can't be bought with words or pity, or even reason." (437)

Anne tries to put this theory into practice, telling herself she won't ask to come to London with him -- "that would be begging." But the longer he stays in New York, the more she forgets it. His departure looms, and she gets desperate. Ironically, he had even admitted he knew love would always be a struggle, but Anne simply takes it too far.

"Peace of mind does not always come with love. I'm sure you'll have peace of mind with Gillmore, and a good conscience. With me, you might have to battle that conscience. But then, love is always a bit of a struggle, isn't it?" (436)

He meant it would hard for them to be apart, and she might have to hurt Gillmore -- not that it would be OK to do something she knew would create such a struggle, hoping naively that love would forgive without question and conquer all.

As time passes, Lyon is busy making Neely into a star again. Fat and friendless, she finds herself confiding in her manager. "I want a guy. And I'm gonna be choosy from now on. I'm not exactly a size ten, but I'm not a freak. And it's not just getting laid--I want someone who cares about me, someone I can respect ... someone to love." (457)

When Lyon finds out about Anne's betrayal (buying the business with her own money and having Henry take credit), even baby Jennifer isn't enough to keep him happy. Anne isn't stupid -- she knows he is cheating on her with Neely -- but Henry advises her to appear ignorant if she wants Lyon to come back around. Fortunately, business keeps Neely busy and away. It's a sad truth about some female friendships, too. But if you can't rely on those you've loved and trusted since your youth, who can you rely on?

But she had never formed a close friendship with any girl since Neely and Jennifer. Close friendships with girls come early in life. After thirty it becomes harder to make new friends--there are fewer hopes, dreams or anticipations to share. (479)

Anne, meet the red dolls. Thanks, Henry, for your thoughtful consideration.

• Swedish hose = I have not come up with an answer here. The two most relevant Internet references include a celebrity gossiper insisting Colin Farrel needs "a full body wash with a Swedish hose" and a reviewer referring to a baby aspirator that requires parental suction as a "Swedish hose for the nose." And then the quote from this book, about treatments Neely received at the sanitarium.
  
• Decolletage = a low neckline on a woman's garment
• Ungainly = awkward
• Svengali = a person who completely dominates another, usually with selfish or sinister motives
• Impassive = apathetic, emotionless

Just for the record, Anne's betrayal is no excuse for Lyon's behavior. He is still a cheating bastard.

jennifer smiled

Jennifer's suicide put me in denial today. I had my second "Sex and the City" flash when she developed breast cancer (the first being an older man who doesn't want kids, i.e. Kevin). It seemed that Jennifer had found the love she longed for with the senator -- he loved her for who she was instead of her body. But when he sat ignorant in the hospital room and said how thankful he was the doctor wouldn't be harming "his babies," Jennifer shut down. This was the last thing she needed to hear from someone she had put complete trust in. This was supposed to be the man whose love transcended the physical. Her heart shattered, and she lost the will to live. Susann cunningly foreshadows the tragedy.

Dr. Galens stopped in at midnight. "We'll go up at eight in the morning," he said cheerfully. "And Jennifer--it's going to be all right."
She smiled. "You bet it will." (374)

Neely, still on the pill roller coaster, nearly reaches rock bottom with a half-hearted suicide attempt. Anne still has faith in her.

Everyone seemed convinced that Neely was going through some kind of deliberate self-destruction, yet it was impossible for Anne to reconcile the image of the nervous, tortured Neely with the bright-eyed child who had once lived below her on Fifty-second Street. That was the real Neely. This phantom that Hollywood had created would eventually disappear and the real Neely would return. (343)

Anne's situation is depressing in its own way. Kevin suffered a heart attack and finally asked Anne to marry him, afraid he would lose her if he couldn't satisfy her. She keeps putting off the marriage, even though she accepted. Once again Susann captures the reader's empathy with a moment in which Anne runs into Allen.

But once, for a fleeting moment, the passage of time was wiped out by the expression in Allen Cooper's eyes. (344)
There was a pause. God, was there nothing to say after ten years? ...
Anne felt sad. People parted, years passed, they met again--and the meeting proved no reunion, offered no warm memories, only the acid knowledge that time had passed and things weren't as bright or attractive as they had been. She was glad Lyon was in England. She'd hate to run into him like this, to find that his hair had thinned or that the girl he dated was too young, too insipid. It was better to keep a memory intact. (345)

All the trouble with men brought Anne and Jennifer to make a comment I was slightly surprised to hear, though it's one my girl friends and I have asserted more than once.

"I love you, Jennifer--really."
Jennifer smiled. "I know you do. It's a pity we're not queer--we'd make a marvelous team." (353)

Then suddenly, it's almost like I'm reading a different book. Anne and Kevin take Neely to a place they think will provide "the sleep cure," but instead the barbiturate-addicted celebrity is committed. (I couldn't help but think of Britney Spears. Is she loony or are the drugs to blame? The world may never know.) I suppose my initial statement is more evidence of the author's skill. The sanitarium should feel like a different world because it is. Neely certainly doesn't feel at home, though she might end up staying more than a year.

• Trousseau = the possessions, such as clothing and linens, that a bride assembles for her marriage
• Nonplussed = a state of utter perplexity
• Alacrity = eagerness
  

a prude and a guttersnipe

The scene I read last night has got to be one of the best of the book: A confrontation with Helen Lawson. But first we had to meet Kevin Gillmore, Anne's 57-year-old manfriend. He sleeps over, but in a separate twin bed. Anne cares for him but doesn't feel the passion she did with Lyon. That's an understatement when she calls her relationship with Kevin "antiseptic." It's a relationship more of convenience than love. It's unfortunate because this is exactly the relationship she would've had with Allen Cooper, who she tossed aside for Lyon. She once again rationalizes it by saying perhaps passionate love is really not something proper ladies feel. But she knows she is settling because Kevin refuses to marry her or give her children because he's already raised a family.

Soon she realized that with all his worldliness, he was totally unsophisticated about the act of love. Obviously he had been quite pure when he married his wife, and she must have been equally chaste and unimaginative. They probably never progressed beyond a few limp kisses and the mechanical act of intercourse. After his wife's death there must have been girls, and some of them must have gone all out--but he probably related this kind of sex to girls with loose morals. Anne was a lady, as his wife had been. And so he accepted her frigidity as the normal attribute of a lady, and being a gentleman, he expected nothing more. (323-4)

He even tells her to a face that she's a New England prude, but he says it as though it's a term of endearment. She's still holding out for Lyon, and I sort of am, too. I just can't tell if this book is going to have a "happy" ending or not. It would seem unrealistic for Lyon to come back, but it might happen in a book. On to the excitement ...

Neely came back to New York, so she's hanging out with Anne. They go to the opening of Helen's new show, and it flops. They see her later in what starts as a fairly amicable meeting. Then Helen cops an attitude in an attempt to redeem her dignity in the face of the girls who for a while had looked up to her.

"Don't be so la-de-dah with me. I read the papers. You're a girl without a contract now. You've gone far for the little guttersnipe I gave a break to, but--"
Neely jumped up and stared at Helen with blazing eyes. ... "What did you call me!"
Helen stood up and faced her squarely. "A guttersnipe. What else were you? A third-rate vaudeville tramp who never even went to school. I was surprised you could even read the lyrics. I only gave you that break because of me and Anne being so buddy-buddy."
"Buddy-buddy! All you cared about was having her pimp for you," Neely snapped. (333)

Minutes later, Neely pulls Helen's hair hard enough to rip off the villain's wig. Then she attempts to flush it down the toilet. It was an incredible scene. It reminded me of Jim Carrey in "The Cable Guy." Salt peanuts, salt peanuts ... It was just the motivation Neely needed.

Women sure were funny--you could talk your head off and get nowhere, but then let them spend ten minutes alone together in a powder room and anything could happen. ... (337)

• To my dismay, I found the word "insure" twice where "ensure" belonged. It was fortunate Susann redeemed herself with the antiseptic bit, or else I might not have blamed the copy editors. I concede usage may have evolved since 1966, but this is one of my pet peeves. I heart you, Associated Press.
  
• Vibrato = a pulsating effect in vocal tone produced by slight and rapid variations in pitch. Apparently it was a bad thing for Helen Lawson.
• Guttersnipe = gamin
• According to Neely, the camera adds not only 10 pounds, but also 20 years.
  

neely's fall

Things are starting to move pretty quickly. A summary is unavoidable. The girls' chapters don't overlap, and they are skipping some big time periods. The plot keeps moving while keeping you informed, though, since the girls are still in contact with each other. Neely has changed the most so far. She's turned into a pill-popping Helen Lawson. She's the youngest, but she appears the most senescent after two divorces and a nearly fatal overdose. Jennifer is doing nudie films in France, and Anne is modeling for a makeup company. Lyon finally split -- and I can't decide if the move was noble or selfish. He thought he was spreading himself too thin, and with Anne it needed to be all or nothing. He proposed, but it was her aversion to living in her childhood home that caused him to reconsider. She's been holding out hope that he'll come back to her, but it seems she may have a new man soon. Through all their problems, Henry has been the rock. He pointed out to Anne that she has changed, too. He tells her there was a time she'd have gone to the ends of the Earth for the man she loved. New York City has shown her how complicated life can be. Love can't always create happiness.

Lyon did offer me some wisdom:
"And don't think I wouldn't like to write full time. These past few evenings have proved something to me -- you get a certain rhythm when you keep at a thing for hours on end." (237)
That's the kind of thing I need to keep in mind when I'm feeling unmotivated about something. Whether it's reading a book, reading blogs, writing my own book, scrapbooking -- it really is nice to let yourself be engrossed like that in something you love. It's amazing how much better I feel when I've spent an entire afternoon or evening thinking and creating, rather than watching television. Of course, there's a rhythm to that, too, it's just not as fulfilling.

It's funny, and possibly annoying, that I keep thinking of the characters in terms of actors I've seen in movies and TV. I guess it helps me picture them in my head, but I don't think I've ever done this before. I'll have to watch the movie one day. Miriam reminds me of Velma from "Scooby-Doo." Neely is like Hayley Mills when she's vulnerable, but she turned into the Vicky character from "The Parent Trap" when she was in her evil-actress mode. We get an insight into why she is the way she is, though. She opens up to her director one day -- after her divorce but three years before her overdose.

"I'm twenty-five and I feel like I'm ninety. I've lost two husbands. All I know is to study lines, songs, dance routines, to starve, to sleep with pills, stay awake with pills. ... There's got to be more than that to living."
"Did you have more fun back in your early vaudeville days?"
"No, and I hate people who say it was all so wonderful when they were starving. It stunk. One-night stands, cold trains, dim-witted audiences ... but there was something that kept you going and made you feel good--hope. It was all so lousy that you knew it had to get better, and you dreamed of the big time or security and thought it would be so wonderful if you could just latch onto a piece of it. And that hope kept you going so it didn't seem bad. But when you sit here and think, Geez, here it is ... this is it ... and it stinks. Then what?" (300)

He reminds her of her twin boys, but it's obvious her children are not a priority. She missed their first birthday, even. She can't break the cycle of dolls to sleep, dolls to wake, dolls for energy. Her vision of an orgy has changed.

"Now, Neely, whaddya want--red, yellow or blue dolls? Anything you want, baby." She swallowed two red pills. Then she staggered into bed. She picked up the phone and buzzed. The butler answered. "Lissen, Charlie, cancel the early call. Call the studio tomorrow and tell 'em Miss O'Hara has ... has laryn ... laryngitis. And I won't take any calls. I'm gonna sleep ... and eat ... and sleep ... and eat ... for maybe a week. When I wake up tomorrow I want pancakes, with butter and loads of syrup. I'm gonna have an orgy!" (307)

I also have to include an excerpt from the night her second husband left her. Here, she's in a drunken stupor and is soon to discover him in the pool with a naked girl.

Maybe Ted was at his office. Maybe he wasn't mad, just working late. She reached for the phone. No, if he wasn't at his office she didn't want to know. And what the hell--what would it prove? He could be at his office doing it with a guy. Jesus, why did she love him this much? He wasn't even a real man. But then Mel was kinda weakish, too. Why did she get attracted to men like this? They seemed so strong in the beginning--helping her, telling her what to do--real strong. Then they petered out. (288)

• Balefully = menacingly, (obs.) miserably
• Largess = generosity
• Gamin = street urchin
• Pan = to criticize
  
• Unctuous = excessively ingratiating
• I also found a couple of errors -- an accidental capital letter after a comma and a missing apostrophe in a contraction. I wonder if typos are fixed in subsequent printings. Will I find that missing punctuation in the pink-cover version?
  

nice buns

I could spend forever and ever looking at Web sites about books. I Googled "book blog" and got as far as bookslut.com, which led me to jezebel.com, where I watched a few episodes of "Pot Psychology," which cracked me up, and read comments about 1936's "Live Alone and Like It" from at least 15 girls I'd love to be friends with (who knew floordrobes were so common?). So that's two Web sites in about three hours, but I did come to one conclusion:

The question of trashiness says something about society. As Elizabeth Bachner points out in an article on bookslut.com, "Western culture has largely developed around the tension between revulsion and fascination, between being grossed out and turned on." She says it's like eating a hamburger. Some people have to pretend the bloody cow never existed in order to eat it, while others can visualize hanging cow carcasses and still fully enjoy their ground-beef patty on a bun.

After a few quick clicks and superficial viewing of other book blogs, I've come to the conclusion that some of them are pretty boring. I hope to be not boring, but then again, I may never have an audience, and that's OK, too. Boring book blogs are just something I'll have to accept. Like how some book people are really nice and say "excuse me," while others don't mind sticking their butt in your sideways face.

bloggy mcbloggerson

I scrolled through this week's New York Times Sunday Book Review again today, and decided to read the review of Sarah Boxer's "Ultimate Blogs: Masterworks from the Wild Web" by David Kamp. I found it to be quite an interesting review, since I'm new to the public blogging arena. (I've spent some time MySpace blogging, but that doesn't count.) I've scrolled through the Blogspot blogs a time or two, and have found the majority of them to be either artistic photography galleries or drawn-out versions of family newsletters. I've read other kinds of blogs before, mostly the sort that coincide with a particular Web site or are part of a friend's MySpace page, but I have yet to find any to read religiously.

Kamp says blogs are "frisky, naughty, inflammatory, overly confessional [and] scarily paradigm-threatening." I suppose he's right, because a blog can be anything you want it to be. He realizes this, and acknowledges that the trends and styles have evolved, and expresses that Boxer should've done the same. The admitted non-blogger is quoted as saying she thought the idea of a blog anthology was "dreadful" because books and blogs are not meant to mix -- but if you can blog about books, you should be able to successfully book about blogs. Kamp says Boxer's hesitation is evident in the book, despite the obvious pains she took to collect a variety of samples. Some, he says, are interesting, but some are boring, and overall the book fails to live up to its name.

I'm enjoying the NYT book reviews, and I'm glad they come free to my e-mail. No, that's not some paid advertisement. I'm genuinely thankful to have found a weekly, intelligent collection of reviews. I like them because they're so well researched. The reviewers are knowledgeable about the subject matter, or research it enough to seem that way, and they place the books in context with a critical eye, not just saying "I like/don't like this book because ... ". I have also read a bit of the USA Today book section, which I discovered while searching for inspiration on what book I think might be a bestseller in the year 2020 (for a publishing-school application). I ended up deciding on Anne Rice's final vampire book, which she has said she may or may not write. So I figure it could take her 12 years to figure out how to bring together the undead and redemption.

I'd like to find some other book blogs, but I haven't taken much time to look for that specifically yet. I did, however, initiate my Google Reader with two photography blogs, one about Polaroids. And that reminds me, too, that I also recently found out about Microsoft Reader and downloaded a couple of books to check out on there, and about the Google books search, which was amazing. Searching within books, mapping locations mentioned in books -- it's like heaven.

stylish and meretricious

I'm supposed to be sleeping, but I can't stop thinking. I started early tonight, in hopes of getting some sleep now rather than during Easter Sunday church service. But, I tend to write in my head while I wait to sleep, and sometimes I have to get it down before I forget it. Like last night, for some reason I related to "Valley" the scene in "Groundhog Day" where Bill Murray molds the chick's face out of snow because he knows it so well. Don't ask me how that relates -- I can't think of it at the moment. All I can think of is writing this blog. How I want it to be a far cry from summaries, because it's tempting to start a new post by summarizing the night's read. Rather, I want it to be a place for jotting down all those marginal English-class notes -- the ones with underlines and highlighting and big blue asterisks. In lieu of writing in my books, though, I've been keeping notes on a little sticky pad. Pooh Post-Its to be exact.

A lot of things changed, and a few secrets were revealed, in tonight's pages. Anne and Lyon managed to make it a year, and their relationship seems stable. I'll find out tomorrow, when I read the next Anne section. Tonight, I had two Jennifers and a Neely. I like how even though the entire book is written in third person, the tone changes from doll to doll. The narrator asserts for Jennifer that the purpose of a hot body is getting things you want, and for Neely crowds a page or two with the ubiquitous "Geez!"

I love a book that incites physical reaction. Laughter, tears, jaw-droppery and wide eyes. That's how these pages were for me (minus the tears). Neely and Jennifer have their men wrapped around their little fingers, and you wonder what in hell they're thinking. Jennifer acts out textbook game-playing techniques with Tony Polar, who literally lacks the capacity to resist. The second Jennifer chapter, the last few pages I read tonight, shed to light why the reader is kept distanced from the singer -- his sister, Miriam, has been hiding his mental illness from the world. I know I'm sounding summary-ish, but I haven't gotten over it yet. Jennifer has no clue the man with whom she has eloped has the mental faculties of a 10-year-old. Hard to believe for us normal folk, but after the homoerotic life she allowed herself to live in Europe, this blonde has a few short wires herself. (I don't know if that's a sentence, but my excuse is that I just exited near-sleep mode.)

Before I get to housekeeping notes, I want to mention that I'm holding off on a "trashy" verdict until the end of the novel, because I'm not convinced. I'm halfway through, and Seconals have only just been introduced for one character, and while the dolls have been sexing it up, it hasn't been in a creepy, romance-novel type of way -- it's been in a realistic way. And I'm entering into evidence a couple definitions of the word: "rubbishy," "in very poor taste," "tastelessly showy" ... wait, what's this? "A meretricious yet stylish book" follows that last one as an example. I might be onto something, Watson. Stylish? Yes. Meretricious? "Alluring by a show of flashy or vulgar attractions. Tawdry." Tawdry implies cheap and gaudy, vulgar a lack of good breeding. It's officially still a mystery (wink, wink).

• Polyglot = I probably would've had to look this word up, except that I learned it on a TV commercial. How ironic is that.
• Hauteur = haughty manner, arrogance. This one was easy from context, but I'd still never seen the word, so I wanted to mark it.
• Page 201 typo = especialy. Oops.
• Page 191 possible typo/grammatical error = "three hours sleep." It's like Lynne Truss points out in "Eats Shoots & Leaves," you can't say "two weeks notice," you have to throw in a possessive apostrophe. Say "three hours of sleep" or "three hours' sleep."
• How random was the ease with which Jennifer asked Anne, "I take it you didn't love your mother." And Anne replied, "No, I didn't love her. But I didn't dislike her." Granted, I guess Anne had a good excuse ... what am I saying? I know she felt smothered by small-town life, but give the poor woman some credit. There's an essay topic for you.
  

bitches in prose

Last night, I finished the first section of "Valley of the Dolls." I stayed up way too late, but I had to know what happened. Fortunately, there is more to the story in another Anne section, but tonight I'll be starting on Jennifer. There was a lot of suspense to keep me awake: Anne breaking up with Allen, Helen revealing herself to be a cold-hearted bitch, Anne and Lyon discussing marriage. Even though things seem to be good between the new lovebirds, I still have that suspicion that something is going to ruin it. Maybe it was the shameful desperation Anne revealed with Lyon.

"No, I was wrong. I'll never put anything before you again. Helen wasn't worth it. No one is worth it. Oh, Lyon, I love you so much."
"I love you, Anne."
"You do! Oh, Lyon, do you really?" She clung to him even harder.
He kissed the top of her head. "Really, really," he said lightly. But when she looked at him she knew he meant it. And once again she told herself she could never be as happy as she was this moment. (173-4)

It's just that the question is still there: When Anne rationalizes her love, is she only lying to herself?

She wondered whether Lyon felt the same intimacy. He couldn't. So many girls had probably seen him stand in his shorts while he shaved. ... She quickly pushed the thought from her mind. No girl had felt what she was feeling, and that made the difference. Nothing was going to ruin the most wonderful day of her life! (145)

Because Helen could still be right: "You don't think just because he's banging you he's gonna marry you, do you?" (166)

After all, as Anne admits, she's known Lyon for only a short time, and she doesn't know who "Elizabeth" is. The money issues that come up are interesting, too. What will become of the 10 karats in the safe-deposit box? I'm still waiting for the trash, so I'm hoping it will pay for cocaine.

I also have to mention, if only to give Anne back a little credibility, that her break-up with Allen was awesome. I almost felt bad for him, because even though Anne never told him she loved him (in fact, she told him repeatedly that she did not love him and did not want to marry him), she still wore the ring and went on dates with him. But unless he has the fattest head of any person on Earth, he shouldn't be surprised that she found someone else. She really showed some strength just by breaking it off with Allen so abruptly, although one might argue she could at least have done it in person, rather than over the phone. But you can also see why Allen was mad, and he said some pretty hurtful things, too.

"Keep it! You bitch ... I don't need the ring. I can buy a lot of them. But you're going to need it. It's very hockable. Or better yet, wear it! Let it cut into your finger every time some guy screws you like you've screwed me. I have a hunch Lyon Burke will be the first!" (160)

Just a fabulously written scene, all around. Susann is great at effecting empathy.

• Torch song = from "carry a torch," an obscure notion from Broadway slang (1927) referring to a song about suffering unrequited love
• Plaintive = expressing sorrow or melancholy, mournful

In other news, I bought a couple of books from the Goodwill today. The paperback of "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe" was 59 cents, and the hardback of "The Da Vinci Code" was 99 cents, so I couldn't pass up either of them. When the latter first came out in movie form, I was quite against it because I figured I was supposed to be. As time has passed and I've realized that I can read it without feeling like I'm supporting the theory of Jesus married to the Magdalene, I've gotten curious. So we'll add that to the list, too.

one girl's trash

One thing I recall from the book reviews of "Valley of the Dolls" is that just about everyone who read it, whether they liked it or hated it, called it trashy. So I'm about a quarter of the way through, and I'm waiting for it to get trashy. It hasn't made it yet. It's certainly gotten romantic, but not trashy. Maybe a little gooey, but the ooey-gooey love Anne thinks she's finally found with Lyon is clouded by a sense of dread. It doesn't take a detective to figure out that she's eventually going to end up unhappy, or at least strung out. Colorful pills are sprinkled over the title as cover art, and the book begins with a poem about how you have to climb Mount Everest to reach the Valley of the Dolls: " ... And when she met Lyon Burke /it was too late to turn back." And, Susann writes, there at the top, it's breathtakingly lonely.

I want Anne to be happy. She's got so much potential, but she's falling into a trap.

She leaned over and took him in her arms. His back was moist with perspiration. All at once she knew--this was the ultimate in fulfillment, to please a man you loved. At that moment she felt she was the most important and powerful woman in the world. She was flooded with a new sense of pride in her sex. (141)

It's so obvious it hurts. The bliss can last only so long before it all comes crashing down. I just wonder if she took off Allen's 10-karat ring when she took off her clothes.

A couple of side notes:

• In my head, Helen Lawson sounds just like Kathleen Turner ("Jewel of the Nile," voice of Jessica Rabbit) -- sort of a husky, worldly, sexy voice. Anne has more of an Audrey Hepburn innocence -- probably because of "Breakfast at Tiffany's." Allen is a young Cary Grant/George Clooney type, and Lyon is what would happen if you mixed Russell Crowe and Brad Pitt. Everybody's an archetype.
  
• Taciturn = reticent, almost to the point of stern.
• Kismet = fate.
  

modern tragedy

I didn't read a heck of a lot before I went to sleep last night, so this evening's post is on a related subject: grammar and the fall of literacy. I play a bit of online Scrabble, and I'm pretty good. I have never played the real board game, so this Facebook foray was my first word game since Upwords and Boggle. Because of my journalism background, people assume I know a lot of words. Well, that's unfortunately not true. To write a news story, you have to keep everything at an eighth-grade level to make sure all your readers can understand. (To one of my former editors, this meant even excluding the word "peruse.") Anyway, this means I never really put into practice all those vocabulary words I had to learn during SAT-prep years. Not that I have a horrible vocabulary, but it's definitely far from impressive. The reason I am good at online Scrabble is strategy. I have figured out what types of plays get the most points. However, that does involve quite a bit of submitting potentially nonsense words into the "dictionary" to see if they're playable. For example, this method has led to my learning that "shoji" and "fixity" are indeed real words.

So, what am I getting at? The key to Scrabble is looking up words. Memorizing two-letter words, hoping against hope you can get that J in somewhere. You don't have to know the words, you just have to know how to find them. For that matter, the same skill is applied during my daily crossword puzzles. It really isn't hard to look things up in a dictionary. I don't know if the real rules of Scrabble allow you to scour the dictionary till you find something that gets you more than 30 points, but in the rest of the real world, it's advisable to make sure you don't type "scourge" when you mean "scour," or "peruse" when you mean "skim." If getting out that big (apparently scary) book seems too old-fashioned, there's always Google. Hence, part of why I made a good journalist and copy editor was not because I know tons of words and style rules by heart, but because I am obsessive about looking things up to make sure they're right. I'd like to think if you find an error in my writing, it's a typographical oversight, not an error of ignorance (I love my backspace key).

Today, I got a little bored. Maybe I should have just picked up "Valley of the Dolls," but I decided to visit the Web site of one of my previous employers. I won't name any names or go into any of the deeper issues I have with the place, but I will say I'm embarrassed to have worked there because of the state of it now. When you work for a publication, there comes with the job a responsibility for making sure the writing is coherent. Or at the bare minimum, that you run spell-check. I only read a handful of sentences on the entire site because I could not force myself to continue after reading the word "unbenounced." Following the offending "word" was a parenthetical explanation: "meaning having no idea." I'm sorry. If you spell something so horribly wrong that you realize your error and make it obvious that you know you just guessed blindly on both spelling and pronunciation, look the damn word up.

I recently submitted applications to summer publishing courses. I had to write a personal statement explaining why I am pursuing a career in publishing. In that statement, I wrote: " ... in the barrage of words we encounter daily, I am consistently disappointed by silly mistakes that spoil the average American's literacy." This mistake is beyond silly. It it ludicrous for such a word to be displayed (defiled) to the public by a (theoretically) respectable news source. Why such rubbish goes unchecked by any journalism-related organization is unbeknownst to me.

getting to know anne

I spend a pretty good amount of time reading book reviews. I like to read them before and after I finish a book, but not during. When I'm in the middle of the book, it's mine. No one need ruin it for me by making me mad about anything. So I read some reviews of "Valley of the Dolls" before I started it. Apparently, you either love or hate this cult classic. I don't recall anyone being on the fence. So far, I think I fall in the former category.

I am really enjoying Susann's writing style. It's got an elegance reminiscent of Charlotte Bronte or Jane Austen, but updated to a mid-1900's properness. Nobody writes like that today, and it's a shame. Susann deftly throws in profound statements about the human condition as if philosophy is her second nature.

"Anne, you not only talk like a virgin but you think like a priest. Look, I'm a virgin, but I do know that sex and love are two different things for a man. Charlie used to live in the cheapest room on the road and send my sister three quarters of his pay check so she and the baby could live nice. But that didn't mean that once in a while he wouldn't take a flier with a nice-looking girl on the bill. He just needed sex. ... It had nothing to do with Kitty and the baby. I've hung on to my virginity because I know men put a high value on it, and I want some man to love me the way Charlie loves Kitty. But it's different with a man. You don't expect him to be a virgin." (23)

"I suppose if you're in [the war], nothing matters but getting out alive," she said quietly.
"You don't chance thinking even that far ahead," he answered. "You think from day to day. If you allow yourself to think of the future--any personal future--you lose your nerve. And suddenly you recall all the senseless time-wasting things you've done ... the wasted minutes you'll never recover. And you realize that time is the most precious thing. Because time is life. It's the only thing you can never get back. You can lose a girl and perhaps win her back--or find another. But a second--this second--when it goes, it's irrevocably gone." His voice was soft, remembering, and she noticed the fine lines around the corners of his eyes. (38)

Tony walked on, to a boisterous ovation. He bowed and accepted the applause with pleasant modesty. He was tall and good-looking, with a boyishness that made him seem vulnerable and appealing. A girl would trust him. A woman would want to protect him. (65)

I also like her use of foreshadowing, even if it's a bit obvious. Anne noted that nothing bad could ever happen to someone like Neely just pages before Neely comes bursting into the office sobbing about the Broadway show.

knowing my shelf

I love nothing more than buying books. I buy new books, used books, old books and anything I think is just plain cool. Mostly I like to buy from Goodwill or the Halfprice bookstore, Mike's Merchandise, or any other place that has cheap books. Only on a special day or for a special book do I actually buy something new off the shelf. Speaking of shelves, what all that means is that I have more books than I know how to read. That is unacceptable to me, especially since I plan on pursuing a career in book publishing. So, I'm creating this blog to hold myself accountable for reading as much as possible and writing about it so I don't forget everything. And if somebody else happens to enjoy it, too, then hurray! Just fair warning, though ... this blog will inherently contain spoilers. I'll also put quotes I like, links, vocabulary words, and who knows what else as I go through my personal library.

I also have an account on Goodreads.com, but I want this to be different. I want to be a little free-form, totally honest and possibly rambling. I guess we'll see what happens.

So just to say what's been happening lately in my book world, I just finished reading "Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal." I liked it. I reviewed it on Goodreads with four stars, but I had some gripes. It wasn't perfect, but it was an A for effort. I bought it on a whim at the mini Borders in the mall, where I also ran across Paulo Coehlo's "The Witch of Portobello," which I hope to get soon. I could only justify one full-price purchase. It's not that I'm cheap, people. It's that I'm poor. There is just as much a place in my heart for spanking-new books as there is for previously loved ones.

In the past, I've been really good at starting a book and not finishing it. It took me probably four tries to get through "Bridget Jones's Diary," even though I thought it was brilliant. Some other books I've begun but never got around to finishing: "Girl With a Pearl Earring," "Spirit of the Rainforest," "The Real Rules," "Pet Sematary" and "Everything's Eventual." There are probably more, but so far those are the victims. I also admit to having started "The Awakening" again, but it's being put on hold since I've read it before and I'm trying to get some fresh material in my head. The point is to be well versed in a variety of book "things" so I won't feel out of place when I attend publishing school (assuming I get accepted, which I will).

I have also lately signed up to receive the Sunday Book Review from The New York Times, which I've greatly enjoyed. I read reviews of Anne Rice's "The Road to Cana," "The Best American Erotic Poems," "Willing" and "The Fortune Cookie Chronicles," and I learned about the difference between trade and mass-market paperbacks. I sort of already knew that, from a year-and-a-half-or-so stint at Books-A-Million.

I've got quite a list of books to read, and perhaps I'll eventually make it through all of them. The problem is they multiply faster than I can read them. It might take a week or a month to get through one book, but I can sweep up an armful in under half an hour at any given bookstore. So now I'm off to bed, a.k.a. book haven, with "Valley of the Dolls." So far, so good.

Books upcoming beyond "Valley" will be "Spirit of the Rainforest" and "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time."