On Chick Lit

In a recent post, I asked for book recommendations; a lot of people mentioned Sophie Kinsella, so I searched for her books when I went to the library. However, even though I had heard that her non-Shopaholic books were better, the only one available was Confessions of a Shopaholic, so I snapped that up for a quick read during my lunch break.

The book reminded me strongly of Bridget Jones' Diary, and the ending, wherein silly Becky Bloomwood falls for the serious, intelligent, somewhat condescending Luke Brandon, recalled an even stranger flavor: faint Twilight undertones. It's a classic chick-lit formula, after all: a silly-but-likeable girl blunders her way through life, finds herself attracted to a snotty, superior Byronic fellow, and accidentally does something splendid at the end of the novel that helps to fix everything.

Chick lit is fun because it's fluff and you can read it on the subway without needing to think too deeply, but popular literature is also interesting because of what it tells you about popular culture. After all, if these books are popular, then something in them appeals deeply to many, many people, and that can tell you something about your fellow readers. So what can books like Shopaholic tell us about women?

Well, for one thing, they're certainly incredibly insecure. Both Becky Bloomwood and Bridget Jones are hopeless at their jobs at the outset of their respective books, and they're miserably single (ever notice how these girls in chick lit books are never happily playing the field?), and they frequently feel like they're failures at everything. Doesn't that say anything about the way women in their twenties and thirties are feeling about themselves?

But in a certain way, you can also see these books as a somewhat nebulous expression of feminism. I mean, the women in these books may be similar to one another, but they aren't always similar to your average female stereotype. They like clothes and shoes and they long for a dark, handsome man to come along and sweep them up— but they're also independent women, who possess their own incomes, enjoy sex on their own terms, and hold careers in male-dominated worlds (Becky is a financial writer; Bridget works in publishing, then later as a TV news reporter).

Really, though, isn't that the point— that in the end, our heroines get to have it all? Maybe that's what makes these books escapist experiences for some— because they take the anxieties that lots of women have everyday (Where is my career going? Will I ever fall in love? Am I attractive? How can I balance career success with personal success?) and present scenarios in which women really can have everything at once. At the end of Shopaholic, Becky can have the clothes she loves, a job she enjoys (a job that also pays her oodles of money), a handsome man to sleep with, and plenty of great friends. In the end, Becky never has to choose between kids and a career, between home and the office, between intelligent and beautiful.

What's your favorite chick-lit/chick-flick/fun piece of fluff?

What's the story, Wishbone?

The other day, I was flipping channels after work while I waited for Adam to get home from class, and I came upon some kid's channel that we get via our DTV box. Instantly, I recognized the current program's music: it was the classic PBS show "Wishbone," which my sisters and I used to watch all the time when we were little!

In case you aren't familiar with the show, the main character is a Jack Russell Terrier named Wishbone, who lives with his middle school-aged owner, Joe, and Joe's widowed mom, Ellen, in a small Texas town. Wishbone can "speak" (his mouth doesn't move, but a voice actor provides his running commentary on the action), but his owners can't hear him— only the audience and the characters in Wishbone's daydreams can. See, Wishbone often imagines himself in a great works of literature— Sancho Panza in Don Quixote, for example, or Odysseus in The Odyssey. The little dog links what is happening in his family's lives with a similar story in literature— like when Joe begins helping the lunch lady at school take cafeteria leftovers to the food bank despite a command from the vice principal to throw it all away, Wishbone imagines himself as Robin Hood and tells the story of that book as the action in the "real world" unfolds.

When I was little, "Wishbone" was one of our favorite shows in our house. My sisters and I would sing along with the theme song, and sometimes we'd act out our favorite parts of the story afterwards. I think what I really loved about the show was that it never talked down to me— it wasn't encouraging me to read kids' books or picture books (those are great, too, of course, but I was a pretty advanced reader), but real, classic, adult novels. As a result, I was never intimidated by classic literature, and I left all the local librarians nonplussed as I walked up to the checkout desk at age seven with thick novels stacked high in my little arms. I guarantee that I was the only nine-year-old whose Barbies suffered the cruelties of Lowood Institution before becoming governesses and falling for the charms of Mr. Ken Rochester.

But what I also liked about the show was that few of the issues or the actions in the books were sugarcoated. People died, or were kidnapped, or had babies out of wedlock in these novels, and the show didn't attempt to hide that fact. The sad parts of the novels— and the scary parts— were never edited out, but were usually just explained in ways that made them accessible to kids.

When I discovered the program again a few days ago, I sat down to watch, and was glad to see that the show was every bit as great as I remembered. It instilled wonderful values (generosity, kindness, independence, equality) without getting preachy, and it stayed faithful to the literary works it was discussing. I can see now why the show inspired me to pick up so many classic books— in many ways, "Wishbone" prevented me from being intimidated by the idea of reading adult novels, and convinced me that grown-up books could be just as action-packed and interesting as kids' ones, especially if I took the time to really read them in their entirety.

A few years ago, in college, I was in a survey course that I particularly hated; it was an infamous course in the English department, because it was the only class required of ALL English majors, and it was basically a "here are the great works of literature that you should have read by now" sort of thing, which obviously lent itself to dissent and disapproval (everyone was disappointed that at least one of their favorite works didn't make the cut, and was annoyed that some of the ones that DID make it in were books they had never really enjoyed). In that class, we were supposed to read Don Quixote, a book I had never actually read for myself before, and I found myself dreading it. But as I began reading, I realized that I couldn't imagine Don Quixote without Wishbone! The whole time I was reading, Wishbone was there in my mind, acting out the role of Sancho Panza with his adorable little doggie hat on his head. And I realized that the story was familiar to me— that it wasn't some dry, dull work I had avoided because it sounded silly, but rather a rich piece filled with humor and pathos, a story that I had known since childhood even if I had never before laid eyes on the actual book.

Wishbone has truly affected my life in a positive way, I think, and I believe this says great things for the potential of educational television. To this day, many facets of my personality come from the books I've read; I mean, a big part of my attempt to always be kind and friendly to everyone I meet comes from having read Francis Hodgson Burnett's A Little Princess, which I read at age six or seven, I believe. And without that encouragement towards reading what I wanted to read regardless of what was considered "appropriate" for my age, who knows what I might have missed? And who knows if I would have developed as quickly and successfully as I did without the extra intellectual advantage that early serious reading gave me?

What are some of the TV shows, books, or movies that really helped to shape you as a kid?

Romancing the Novel

My mother has proposed that I swallow my pride and actually make money as a writer.

That is, she thinks I should write a romance novel.

She is right that romance novels are big money makers. When we were on the phone today, she told me the name of the best-selling author in the US, and it wasn't a name I recognized. Why? Because it was a romance novelist.

Romance novels are apparently hot sellers, and on top of that, romance publishers usually aren't as snobby as other publishers seem to be. They take quite a bit of work from new, unpublished writers, and sometimes from people who read romance novels and then decide to write them themselves.

The problem? I have never read a romance novel. I don't even know what they're like. Don't they involve, like, sex and stuff? Would I have to write sentences like, "She gazed down through her raven hair, allowing her fingers to graze his throbbing member"?

Also, I was trained as a poet. While it says "English" on my transcript, I pretty much majored in poetry at Vassar. I'm a poet— that's what I do. I like metaphor, and I like complicated meter, and I like delicacy— the quietness, the coyness of language. Could I really write a romance novel?

Of course, as I just said, I've never read a romance novel. It could be that I'm terribly biased, and that my assumptions about these novels are unfair.

So this is where you come in. Have you ever read a romance novel? Do you think I could write a romance novel? Would you read a romance novel I wrote?

And, most importantly: what would my romance novel pen name be? Because if the people from my writing classes at Vassar ever found out I'd written a romance novel, I'd have to kill myself in shame.

I'm leaning towards Vanessa Hart. Or maybe MacKensie Firefly.

An Awesome Blog

Before I go off to bed tonight, I just wanted to post a little plug for my dear friend Cla— er, Mistress of Snark. She has a totally rocking PNN blog that is filled with sweet, sweet snark of the most sarcastic and biting wit known to man. Do please check her out.

And the bitter, poorly written comments from teen girls who object to Twilight mockery are totally hilarious as well!

Banished To The Realm Of the Cliche

It's my favorite time of year! That's right: Lake Superior State University has just released its annual List of Words to Be Banished from the Queen's English for Mis-use, Over-use and General Uselessness!

On this year's list are "green" ("Companies are less 'green' than ever, advertising the fact they are 'green.' Is anyone buying this nonsense?" -Mark Etchason, Denver, CO), "maverick" ("You know it's time to banish this word when even the Maverick family, who descended from the rancher who inspired the term, says it's being mis-used." -Scott Urbanowski, Kentwood, MI), and "bailout" ("Use of emergency funds to remove toxic assets from banks' balance sheets is not a bailout. When your cousin calls you from jail in the middle of the night, he wants a bailout." -Ben Green, State College, PA).

Interestingly, the list included, for the first time ever, an emoticon: that perennial favorite of Facebook users everywhere, the <3, which is supposed to resemble a heart. "Just say the word instead of making me turn my head sideways and wondering what 'less than three' means," said Andrea Estrada of Chicago.

You can view the full list of banished words and phrases here.

And if LSSU gets to make a list, why don't I? Here's my compilation of a few more words and phrases that need to go:

Change: Okay, when a progressive candidate says it, it makes sense. But when a conservative candidate like, oh, I dunno, every single Republican who ran for president this past cycle, it makes less sense. The whole platform of the conservative movement is ANTI-change, and PRO-tradition. If you're for "change" and you're a Republican, you're in the wrong party.

[Name] the [Profession] (as in "Joe the Plumber"): Um, how is stating your profession somehow a vindication of your earnest folksiness? If I called myself "Philosophy the Writer," would people give a damn? McCain supporters flouted signs declaring their names and professions ("I'm Sam the Steelworker!") at rallies, and it made less sense than McCain's crazy campaign suspension in the midst of the financial crisis...especially since Joe the Plumber wasn't actually named Joe OR actually a plumber.

Vaycay (short for vacation): If one more person insists on abbreviating a word that isn't long or cumbersome in the first place, I might kill myself. If you can't take the time out to say or write the full word, you have more problems than your supposed shortage of time.

Historic (when used to describe the present day): I know I've been guilty of this one myself, but so many commentators and newscasters have used this word to describe certain events this year (the Democratic primary, the election of president-elect Obama, the recession, the Iraq War) that it's been getting a little ridiculous. Pardon me, but I thought things became truly "historical" when remembered from the FUTURE. We can't really know what events will be considered monumental unless we're looking back from the comfortable position of hindsight.

Joe Sixpack: NEVER EVER EVER EVER EVER USE THIS TERM AGAIN. Somehow, Sarah Palin is under the impression that stereotyping working class people as drunken men with bland names is a flattering compliment. The working class people I know? Not so flattered.

What words would you add to the lists?

Pick My Books!

So this week I finally got my library card for the New York Public Library. I can't go get some books until Thursday (that's when the library is open late enough that I can go after work), but that's okay, because I'm not actually sure what I want to read right now.

Usually, when I hear about a good book or author, I think, "Oh, wow, I'll have to get that when I go to the library!" And then I forget all about it. So now I can't remember any of the books I wanted— only that I wanted them.

I'm currently feeling in a slightly non-fiction-ish mood (as a result, I suppose, of enjoying Michael Pollan's books so much), but I'm trying to stay away from political non-fiction/essays, as that sort of stuff tends to make me throw things and attempt to kill people. I also enjoy quirky fiction, decent poetry that actually contains relevant meaning, and fun, light page-turners that dissolve in your brain like cotton candy does in your mouth.

Help! Can anyone suggest some books for me to read?

(Oh, and also, in case you've been living in a sound-proof, internet-free cave and haven't heard the news: I HATE TWILIGHT. So don't even think about that. :D)

Why I Write Accessible Poems

Yesterday we were all invited over to my great-aunt Lucy’s for dinner, and after the fabulous meal, we all sat outside and watched a glorious Florida sunset. The discussion turned to poetry, and I found myself feeling ashamed of modern poetry yet again for making people feel like it’s as inaccessible and unintelligible as a slab of granite.

My family members are not stupid, and they’re not uneducated, either. If my aunt and my grandma and my husband have difficulty with contemporary poetry, then there’s a problem with poets today, not with my family. And I feel partially responsible, being as I’m a poet and all.

A good poem is like a nice wine— with wine, there are several initial flavors that you taste when you first sip from the glass, but then as you drink more, or as you eat certain foods that have been paired with the wine, you notice more and more notes of varying complexities. Poems should be like that— there should be a layer that evokes a reaction in almost everyone, and then there should be layers that only other poets can see.

But a lot of modern poetry doesn’t include the former layer— only the latter ones.

Here’s my grandmother’s favorite poem:

The Virtues of Carnation Milk

(by anonymous)

Carnation Milk is the best in the land;
Here I sit with a can in my hand --
No tits to pull, no hay to pitch,
You just punch a hole in the son of a bitch.

It’s not deep, but it evokes a more profound reaction in her gut than any modern poem could. She at least gets a laugh out of it; contemporary poetry doesn't even give her that. And she’s not a layperson— she’s an English teacher.

Doesn’t that say more about the impoverished state of today’s poetry more than about my grandmother’s taste in literature?

A Writer's Lament

I just spent the past two hours writing a brilliant post. Seriously, guys, it was amazing— a political piece about race and gender and modernity, all set against the backdrop of the Sotomayor hearings. By turns eloquent, poignant, and inflammatory, it was one of the best pieces I've written here to date. I linked to the New York Times and to videos of Pat Buchanan, I quoted the founding fathers and a few racist guys at my husband's ex-job, and I tied everything together with some fabulously poetic phrases. This was to be my big piece of the month, and I wrote the whole thing, edited it, and got ready to post it...

And then I accidentally deleted it.

In all honesty, I'm kind of crying right now. I can't believe that just happened. I spent two hours. I wrote until I was exhausted. I made my husband go to bed alone; I kept my cats awake with my typing; I thought until my head hurt. And now it's all gone, and I'll never get it back, and you'll never read it. All that time, all that energy, wasted.

All I can think of, by way of dealing emotionally with this situation, is to scream (which I can't do right now; everyone is sleeping) or to throw things (which I can't do because I can't afford to replace broken stuff). Or maybe to run down and jump in the river, but even that won't bring back my stolen moment of brilliance.

I guess the moral of the story is: DON'T COMPOSE WORKS OF GENIUS IN YOUR WEB BROWSER WINDOW. MICROSOFT WORD IS THERE FOR A REASON, BITCH.

How do you deal with intense frustration?

Of Presidents and Poetry

Hey— did you know that Jimmy Carter, the ex-president, wrote POEMS?

Not just one or two, mind you. An entire book of them!

Well, I didn't know that, so I thought I'd share one with you. It's surprisingly humorous, and surprisingly spare, and surprisingly...good!

Progress Does Not Always Come Easy

by Jimmy Carter

As a legislator in my state
I drew up my first law to say
that citizens could never vote again
after they had passed away.

My fellow members faced the troubling issue
bravely, locked in hard debate
on whether, after someone's death had come,
three years should be adequate

to let the family, recollecting him,
determine how a loved one may
have cast a vote if he had only lived
to see the later voting day.

My own neighbors warned me I had gone
too far in changing what we'd always done.
I lost the next campaign, and failed to carry
a single precinct with a cemetery.

Is Poetry Dead?

So apparently, according to Newsweek, we are witnessing the death of verse, as poetry readership has dipped to a 16-year low.

Bad news for us poets.

The part that bothered me the most in the above article is this:

Even if readership is down, not everyone is concerned. In fact, popularity is itself a fraught subject in the poetry community. In an address to the Association of Writers & Writing Programs this February, the president of the Poetry Foundation, John Barr, described how the popular poet writing for the common reader essentially disappeared with the advent of Modernism. The 19th-century model of poets publishing in mainstream venues such as newspapers was replaced by the 20th-century model, in which the increasing fragmentation and difficulty of poetry required specialists to discern it, moving it into the college classroom. Today, to call a poem "accessible" is practically an insult, and promotional events like National Poetry Month are derided by many poetry diehards as the reduction of a complex and often deeply private art form to a public spectacle.

A few years after the launch of National Poetry Month, poet Charles Bernstein wrote in a caustic essay that April is now when "poets are symbolically dragged into the public square in order to be humiliated with the claim that their product has not achieved sufficient market penetration." He added that "National Poetry Month is about making poetry safe for readers by promoting examples of the art form at its most bland and its most morally 'positive'."

I don't understand. Why would you make art if you're not interested in communicating something? If you just wanted to make it for yourself, you wouldn't feel the need to display/publish/screen/perform it; if you're showing it to other people, then you're trying to communicate something, and if that communication isn't working, then YOUR ART ISN'T WORKING, no matter how nicely structured it is.

When I write poems, I use the onion method. A decent poem should have as many layers as possible, but the top layer is always the Everyone Layer— that is, everyone should be able to understand the poem on a basic level. Then, the poem should work on a different layer that more thoughtful people can understand; then, it should work on a level that only students of poetry can understand. Right now, I feel like the world of poetry views each poem as being able to consist of only one of these layers, so they'd prefer that it be the more "sophisticated" one— the one only understood by other poets.

To hell with them. I write by wringing my heart through my head, so that I'm able to communicate what I'm thinking or feeling or experiencing, so I'm able to share that wonderful coincidence or moment or trauma that occurred in my life and that might change the way you look at your own life.

Through writing for other people, I write for myself. Does that make sense?

For those of you out there who love poetry— what poems/poets do you love, and why? For those who hate it— why are you so turned off?

King V. Meyer

While I'm not completely convinced that Stephen King represents the apex of American literature, I did have to cheer for him when I read this USA Today piece in which he disses Stephenie Meyer:

King, whose Stephen King Goes to the Movies collection came out last week, doesn’t know how much of an influence he had on Meyer, but he does know that Rowling read his stuff when she was younger. "I think that has some kind of formative influence the same way reading Richard Matheson had an influence on me," King explains. "People always say to me, 'Well, what about H.P. Lovecraft?' And the thing was, you read Lovecraft when you were a kid but I never felt that he was speaking my language. It was chillier than my heart was, and when Matheson started to write about ordinary people and stuff, that was something that I wanted to do. I said, 'This is the way to do it. He’s showing the way.' I think that I serve that purpose for some writers, and that’s a good thing. Both Rowling and Meyer, they’re speaking directly to young people. ... The real difference is that Jo Rowling is a terrific writer and Stephenie Meyer can’t write worth a darn. She’s not very good."

HA! At least I'm not the only writer who thinks Meyer is a nasty hack.

A Possibly Finished Poem

Here's something I've been playing with for awhile now. I can't quite decide if it's done or not.

The Annunciation
 
The angel went to her and said, "Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you." Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be. (Luke 1: 28-29)
 
The night was wide and black and filled with stars.
I had just finished my prayers when it came
through my window like unexpected day—
a six-winged creature with hot liquid eyes
that burned like a salamander’s birth.
Its voice was a hundred thousand thunders,
and when it drew breath, the room contracted.

Terrified, I heard little that it said
until it mentioned God, for then I knew
things would soon be bad. When God sends servants
like that, he’s not asking for a favor;
he’s weaving the threads of the world tightly
around you, and you can only stay still.

And after it left a trail of glamour
in its wake, the darkness closed around me,
and never left.

Poetics and Politics

Now that Obama is president-elect, the poet in me is considering such vital questions as, "What poem will they read at Obama's inauguration?"

Oftentimes poems by famous poets have been read at presidential inaugurations. At Clinton's first inauguration, Maya Angelou read "On The Pulse of Morning", and Robert Frost recited "The Gift Outright" from memory for JKF's inauguration because he couldn't see the text of the poem he was going to read due to the sun's morning glare.

There are so many poems by so many poets that could be recited at this inauguration! Some have suggested using Obama's past speeches as poems, since they often sound like eloquent poetic pieces. (And check out that link above to see a Wordle picture of Obama's "Yes We Can" speech!)

I think that might be my challenge this week— to write a poem that would be appropriate for a presidential inauguration. I'll post it up here and you can see what you think!

In the meantime: what poet/poem would you like to have at Obama's inauguration?

Billy Collins

I had forgotten about this video until now, but someone made a delightful little animation set to a reading of Bill Collins' poem "Forgetfulness"— which also happens to be one of my favorite poems.

It's a great little video. Check it out!

Chocolate and Poetry

I managed to rediscover Chocolove Chocolate Bars during my trip to the Ypsilanti food co-op this past weekend.

The bars come in all sorts of delicious flavors, from crystallized ginger or chilies and cherries in dark chocolate to toffee and almonds or hazelnuts in milk chocolate. But that's not the point— the reason poetry lovers will enjoy them is the love poem printed inside the wrapper of each bar.

I used to collect the wrappers when I was in boarding school, and I made a sort of poetry collage with them on the wall of my room. I'd forgotten about them since then, but when I saw them on the shelf at the co-op, I knew I had to buy one for Adam.

The poem we got was from Byron's "Don Juan":

And then she had recourse to nodes, and signs,
Ands smiles, and sparkles of the speaking eye,
And read (the only book she could) the lines
Of his fair face, and found, by sympathy,
The answer eloquent, where the soul shines
And darts in one quick glance a long reply;
And thus in every look she saw exprest
A world of words, and things at which she guess’d.

And now, by dint of fingers and of eyes,
And words repeated after her, he took
A lesson in her tongue; but by surmise,
No doubt, less of her language than her look:
As he who studies fervently the skies
Turns oftener to the stars than to his book,
Thus Juan learn’d his alpha beta better
From Haidée’s glance than any graven letter.

In the case of longer poems (like “Don Juan”), excerpts are printed on different wrappers of different kinds of chocolate, so that you can eventually collect them all. For example, the wrapper informs me that the two stanzas before these were printed on the Pure Milk 33% wrappers with the “best by” date of Jan. 2009, while subsequent stanzas were printed on Toffee in Milk Chocolate wrappers with the same “best by” date. Therefore, if I wanted to know what happens in the poem, or if I wanted to read the previous stanzas, I’d know which bars to buy!

If you’d like to read the entirety of “Don Juan” (it’s VERY LONG— I mean, it’s Byron, so duh), check out the free Project Gutenberg version here.

Stephenie Meyer Ate My Baby!

...no, just kidding. I don't even have a baby. But wouldn't that be an unbelievably interesting news piece?

Anyways, now that I have your attention: Claire sent me this awesome article (though I think Olivia sent it to her first?), entitled How Twilight Is Destroying America and Harming Our Nation's Youth. Read it now!

Of course, I don't really think that Twilight is severely harming our children; to be honest, while I think the messages in the book are negative at best, I'm much more concerned about the effect the book's poor writing will have on the writing skills of our teen girls.

But I do have to agree that the book sends some pretty terrible messages.

Take this one, for example: the relationship between Edward and Bella is pretty durn abusive. As Lucy Mangan says:

"It sounds melodramatic and shrill to say that Bella and Edward’s relationship
is abusive, but as the story wears on it becomes increasingly hard to avoid the comparison, as she gradually isolates herself from her friends to protect his secret, and learns to subordinate her every impulse and movement to the necessity of not upsetting Edward and his instincts (”I could quite easily kill you, Bella, by accident”), until by halfway through she is trying to suppress her very pulse (”my blood was racing and I wished I could slow it, sensing that this must make everything so much more difficult”) and planning her movements like a chess game - “I worried that it would provoke the strange anger that flared whenever I slipped and revealed too clearly how obsessed I was.” Whenever she responds physically to his kisses, he immediately draws away and berates her. Supporters will call this the erotics of abstinence. I call it fear and distaste for female sexuality and a poisonous message to be feeding young women."

I'm also upset by the message that Bella herself sends to girls. Bella starts off the first book as a very bright young woman; she reads Jane Austen for fun, she's already read all the books for her English class and done all the labs in her biology class, and she is dismissive of the vacuousness of high school in general. By the end of the series of novels, though, Bella has become her father's personal cook and housekeeper, and has (over her parents' objections) refused to attend college, preferring to marry at 19 and have a baby with her high school boyfriend.

Now, I don't think books cause people to do things. I don't think that allowing any daughter of mine to read Twilight would make her run off with some dashing stranger named Edward, and I don't think it would make her a misogynist in an instant. I think kids are smart, and I think kids are a lot more in touch with reality than grown-ups like to think. In fact, I often think that adults ascribe innocence to children because they themselves wish they were that innocent. I can't tell you how many kids in my elementary school classes pretended to believe in Santa Claus so as not to hurt their parents' feelings.

But I do think that kids need context when they read books that present sexist, racist, or disturbing material, because such material can be really confusing when reflected on later. The problem isn't that kids have access to shocking books— it's that once they read these books, they don't often have anyone to discuss them with, anyone to help them frame the books in the right ways. I don't think the kids who got hurt imitating Jackass or WWE wrestling did so because they watched the shows— I think they did so because they watched the shows and their parents or guardians weren't around to tell them, "Now, remember, that's not something you should be doing on your own, because it's very dangerous and not meant for you to try at home."

I would not expressly recommend Twilight to my daughter, mostly because I feel it's poorly written and fairly boring, but also because I think the things it says about the role of women in society are disturbing. But if my daughter discovered it on her own and wanted to read it, I would never stop her. I would simply request that she come talk to me after she'd read each book, so we could discuss which elements weren't acceptable in real life. "Edward does these things because he's not a human being," I'd say, "But it would never be acceptable for a real boy to camp outside your window and watch you sleep." Or: "Edward and Bella's romance lasted forever in the book, but that's because this is a fairy tale. Real high school romances hardly ever end in marriage and happiness, because you're not completely developed in high school— you change in your twenties a lot. And even people who do marry their high school sweethearts usually wait years to do so, and sometimes date other people in those intervening years." Or: "Real romance is based a lot more on character than on looks. The author of this book doesn't have time to show you how real romance develops, so she has to skip over a lot of stuff and concentrate on the physical attraction. But people who are really in love, like your father and I, are in love with what's inside the other person, not just what's on the outside."

This is kind of like what my mom did when I was younger. I was allowed to read anything I liked— in fact, my mom exchanged some heated words with a librarian who insisted that I should have a kids' card (which wouldn't let me check out any books that weren't in the juvenile section) rather than an adult card. Lemme tell you, she got that adult card for me, and I used it. And I read vociferously, and that's why I was so good in school, and why I'm so good with language today.

But she always made sure to talk to me about the books I was reading, even if it was just at the dinner table or while I was watching TV. She'd tell me about the author, where he or she was coming from, why certain characters did certain things. She helped me subtract from the equation the confusion that comes with entering the adult world. She gave me the context I never could have discovered on my own. And I hope I can do that for my child one day, too.

If Only Writing Could Be More Lucrative Than Burger-Flipping

Public Service Announcement

I just wanted to remind everyone (and enlighten those who might not already know) that the work of poet and columnist Katha Pollitt can be most entertaining. Her poetry is always delightful, especially her work on Biblical subjects, including "The Expulsion" and "In The Bullrushes". If you're looking for some good summer poetry reading, check out her book Antarctic Traveller!

She's always been one of my favorite poets, and I actually got to meet her this past year. As I'd expected, she was a splendid woman.

The Strangely Controversial Month of Poetry

First surprise: Did you know that National Novel Writing Month (otherwise known as NaNoWriMo, which begins this November 1st) has a poetry counterpart, National Poetry Writing Month (with the equally adorable abbreviation NaPoWriMo)? It's in April, to help celebrate National Poetry Month, a month in which English teachers and avid readers and writers band together to celebrate poetry in all its forms and from all its sources.

Second surprise: did you know there are actually people who strongly oppose National Poetry Month? One of them is writer Charles Bernstein, a man who, in my honest opinion, could use some National Poetry Month exposure, since I've never heard of him. Bernstein argues in this piece that National Poetry Month dumbs down great poetry and chooses only those poems with a "moral" or "uplifting" message, so that the general populace won't be threatened or bored. He claims this is insulting to most people, as it assumes that they are stupid and can’t figure out poems for themselves. And of course, like all snooty "art" poets, Bernstein blames this all on the recent push for accessibility in poetry, which I've always thought is best illustrated by our two most recent Poets Laureate, Billy Collins and Ted Kooser.

I heartily disagree, of course— first off, I don't in any way think that showing people simple or one-note poems assumes that they are stupid. I think it assumes they had crappy teachers in school who spent all their time teaching their students how to dissect poems into similes and metaphors and assonance and consonance and imagery and symbolism, and never properly explained to them that you can't write a sentence about what a poem means because most poems are written to explain things that can't be said in only a sentence. And of course, this is usually the case. I went to public school, and I hated poetry until I started reading it on my own and was free to think that it represented whatever I wanted it to represent. I went to public school, and, incidentally, this is the reason I resolutely refuse to teach: because all my English teachers were so spectacularly bored with their subjects, so splendidly miserable about what they were being forced to do, that until I was about eight or nine I thought teaching was a punishment for committing minor crimes and misdemeanors.

Hence, I don't think that stashing the Wallace Stevens under the desk for the time being and breaking out the ee cummings or the Sylvia Plath is really all that horrible, because to use the Wallace Stevens is to ignore the fact that most people have had a spotty and disgraceful education in poetry, and therefore to ignore the fact that, as smart as they are, these people have no idea what the poems are whispering to them. Forcing difficult poems on people is like taking a child who only speaks Chinese and abandoning him in a bus station in Spain. It's mean, it's petty, and it's pretty durn insensitive.

And we all know my take on the accessibility movement: IF YOU DON'T COMMUNICATE SOMETHING IN YOUR POEMS, THEY AREN'T WORTH SHIT. In other words, if you want to write poems that only you understand, then that's fine, but it's not art. Art is a communication between the artist and the audience, and the message being communicated is always one that cannot be summarized or sequenced or essentialized. That's why we write: if we could say what we wanted to say in a simple sentence, then there would be no reason to write a poem or a story or a novel in order to say it. But the things you say in your writing must be able to be understood by others on some level, or else you are making up your own language, and you can't expect anyone to want to converse with you in it.

Long story short: Communicate effectively in your poems. Otherwise, you're just wasting our time.

Twilight: Adding Insult To Literary Injury

As it seems we're all kind of in Twilight-craze mode here at PNN, I thought I'd provide the lighthearted balance to all the lovelorn PNN posters who seemed to enjoy the novel. I'm reposting here my original review of the novel Twilight that I first posted on LiveJournal on August 18— and I don't think I ever posted it here.

Remember, this review is all in good fun (read: I don't want to get hate mail from teen girls), and I certainly don't advocate discouraging young people from reading such tripe. I simply would encourage them to read other, more interesting, pieces of literature.

Also, I'm not saying I dislike or think poorly of anyone who DOES enjoy Twilight— to each his/her own! I know there are people who despise some of my favorite novels (my husband is one of them; any time he reads a book on my recommendation he always regrets it), and I respect their opinions completely.

~*~

Twilight: Run Far, Far Away

The next Harry Potter? No way. Twilight isn't even on the same continent.

Please, please, please don't waste your time on this terribly hackneyed piece of literature (and I use the term "literature" very loosely here). It's an awfully cheap book, with static characters, a predictable plot, and more teen angst than "Degrassi: The Next Generation" and "The O.C." combined. What's worse, the apparent "romance" that has been so heartily admired by teen girls across the country is both nauseatingly sentimental and disturbingly obsessive— so much so that you'll fling the book down in disgust at least ten times before you're finished with this rag.

First off, I found the principle character of Bella Swan— a name that should already hint at the book's romance-novel quality of writing— to be so silly and weak and clumsy and stupid and whiny that it was difficult not to tear the book to shreds whenever she opened her ditsy little mouth. Despite her first-person narration assuring us that she's a clever girl who enjoys books and hates rumors and idle chatter, Bella is never anything but a foolish figure, a klutz whose antics are sympathetic and human for the first few chapters, and then gradually become more and more irritating and outlandish as one reads on.

On the other hand, the character of Edward Cullen, her vampiric lover (and here I apply yet another term liberally, since somehow, Bella and Edward manage to become undyingly devoted to and obsessed with one another without sharing any more physical contact than several brief snuggles and a handful of momentary liplocks), is so absurdly Byronic as to approach caricature. Physically perfect, constantly noble, and unendingly tortured, Edward as a character causes an unsuspecting reader to rip his or her hair in desperation and scream, "Oh, for crying out loud, just EAT her already, and be DONE with it!" Edward is not only Byronic in the sense that he seems to strongly desire to emulate the mopey, misunderstood heroes of Lord Byron's poetry; he's also Byronic in the sense that he treats women like shite, just like Lord Byron himself often did. Edward is so busy "taking care" of hapless, helpless damsel-in-distress Bella that he manages to fling her about, force her to do things she doesn't want to do, control her movements and her whereabouts, watch her while she's sleeping, manipulate her acquaintances, and generally become every misogynist's wet dream: a man who mocks, sneers at, patronizes, and controls his lover, and is adored all the more for it.

The plot holds no surprises for anyone who has ever read Anne Rice's novels, seen any episodes of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer," or written escapist short stories in his or her sixth grade English class. Bella moves to a town she hates (for completely the selfless reason that she wants to give her mother some alone time with her new husband, an action that is intended to garner our sympathy and admiration and instead makes us wonder if Bella will ever develop a backbone) to live with her biological father Charlie, who is (quite conveniently) an unobservant, unobtrusive, and uninterested man. Without any real justification, we are asked to believe that Bella, who was considered homely and awkward and unpopular in her old school, is suddenly the most popular girl in Washington State, and has dozens of guys falling over themselves for her.

Of course, Bella is only interested in Edward, who pretends to hate her for awhile in order to protect her from his bloodlust (insert eyeroll here) but who ultimately confesses his eternal (literally!) love for her after saving her from a bizarre and seemingly out-of-the-blue gang rape attempt. The two "love" (read: are infatuated with) one another, but Bella is constantly in danger from Edward's need to drink human blood, and while she is still human she will always be danger of being killed by his uncontrollable thirst for her tender young neck, blah blah blah. It's all been done before, only this time it's done with teenagers, which makes the whole thing take itself too seriously for its own good. The story even manages to end at THE PROM, for Chrissakes, with the injured heroine's leg in a cast and everything. Subtract from "Buffy" all the self-effacing humor and good-natured shtick of that delightful program, add a generous helping of the borderline-insulting, feel-good aura of an after-school special, and voilà! You've got Twilight.

I'm almost tempted to read the other three books in the series just so I can observe firsthand the creepy anti-abortion allegory that is apparently embedded in the last volume. Then I remember how desperately I had to force myself to finish the first one, and I think, "No WAY am I putting myself through that again."

I give this book five stakes, straight through its cold, dead heart.

EDIT: I found a hilarious review on Amazon, which summarizes the book's pathetic themes in the perfect (albeit occasionally grammatically incorrect) fashion:

"If there was ever a book that deserved the medal for Worst Messages of All Time to Send to your Teenage Audience, then this is the one. Girls, life is not worth living unless you have your man. It's okay to have no dreams, ambitions, hobbies, interests, goals, ideas, friends, etc... as long as you have your man. It's okay, and in fact desirable that you stay with a man forever, even though he may very likely kill you, or at least injure you, in the future. Growing into mature adulthood and eventually old age is a fate worse than death. True Love is based on appearances and physical aspects. And the list goes on."

~*~

Picture credit: Icon by Michaela of TwilightSucks.com.

Do Your Part To Stop Punctuation Abuse!

Did you know that punctuation abuse is actually associated with real-life crime?

Check out this article: apparently using punctuation incorrectly can keep you from successfully carrying out an illegal caper. Police can often compare your poorly written ransom notes to other documents you've created, and prove in a court of law that you were the perpetrator of the crime.

At last— an excuse to strangle people who incorrectly use quotation marks in order to indicate emphasis.