Slumming It At The Beach

I've been having fun since Thursday. A few friends and I took the train up to the seaside and went to the beach and pushed each other and generally frolicked. In the evening we made melted Mars Bars that took so long to eat that we missed the train.

Which turned out to be a good thing (random new paragraph!). We went to Barry's, which is a massive amusements full of roller coasters and rides and things. Major fun. Then we got doughnuts and sat on the beach, watched the sunset. It turned out to be a rather lovely day indeed. 

There was another train around nine so my three friends got that and left me at the beach. I was going to stay at my friend's apartment, but apparently he didn't know that and he was quite surprised when I showed up at his door. But it was all cool. We went inside and watched 'The Beach', the second time this week I've seen that lovely, disturbing movie. 

Friday was terrific fun. We did nothing until the afternoon when we went to a sea pool called the Blue Pool. Back in the '30s or something there were diving boards and everything and the water was really deep, so I could jump in from really high up. I'm bad a gauging distances but I'm guessing it was about 25 feet. It turns out jumping from that height hurts quite a bit, but I still loved it. I was falling for about a second, but it felt all slow, the way everything does when you're exhilarated. Then, just before I hit the water, a streak of panic tore through me for about a millisecond. Should I have jumped? But it was always fun. I plummeted into the water really quickly, like a bullet, and then the water just grabbed my whole body and held me in place for a few seconds. I jumped lots of times because it was fun.

That night we went to the theatre and saw a play. It was a silly little farce about a robot and relationships and things. I enjoyed it.

Since I've been so busy I haven't had any time to read, but I DID dream about books. The first was about Les Miserables, and the West End cast were coming to my town to put on a special performance for a select audience. Unfortunately, they were late so we had to watch the animated cartoon (what?) instead. The second was about American Psycho and I was Patrick Bateman and I wasn't as buff as I had imagined. I think it means I'm insecure. Maybe.

That's all that's happened in the last few days of my life. I enjoyed them. Tomorrow I resign myself to a week at the caravan with my arthritic grandfather who does nothing. At least I'll get a lot of reading done.

Goodbye!

Assigned Summer Reading That I Didn't Know I Had

I don't think I like Pride & Prejudice. When you don't care about the protagonist (Elizabeth bores me to tears) I don't think you care about her marital struggles. We were made to read this in English Literature class and at first I was thrilled and I kept batting my hand, exclaiming, "OH, Mr. Bingley!" Then I started reading the book and it got rather tiresome. I'm some 100 or so pages through it now. 

I discovered tonight that I have to finish this book by September, and, after spending an hour or so poring over positive and negative reviews on Goodreads.com (which I recently bookmarked!) I have a feeling that PaP might get somewhat better. I can only hope. 

In other news, I finished 'American Psycho' by Bret Easton Ellis a few hours ago. I haven't written a review in ages and I'm in the mood. 

The first thing that struck me as I read the book is the protagonist's attention to detail. The book is written in the perspective of Patrick Bateman (our titular psychopath) and he pores over clothing, hair, drinks, designer labels, credit cards and a number of other material things and treats all of his creepy killings almost as little asides that break away from his 'real' life which involves nothing more strenous than making reservations at various upmarket restaurants. And there are lots of them. At first I was struck by this reversal of interest between the reader and Bateman, where we focus on the gruesomeness of the murders whilst he gets infuriated by asking to 'please hold' making reservations and talking to his vast number of girlfriends. Later it gets quite annoying.

Excerpt:

"He's wearing a linen suit by Canali Milano, a cotton shirt by Ike Behar, a silk tie by Bill Blass and cap-toed leather lace-ups from Brooks Brothers." 

In this particular scene Bateman begins by describing his friend Price; he then goes on to describe, in detail, what he and his two friends Van Patten and McDermott are wearing. For the first twenty pages I could bear it as it was making a point about the materialism and obsession with style that was nurtured by the prep generation, but after 380 pages I was ready to strangle Mr. Ellis. I began to skim through these descriptions of clothing just because they bored me to death, and if I'm being honest a lot of the book just goes round in a loop of girls, clothing and reservations. 

But it's interesting. As the novel progresses Bateman becomes more and more unable to quell his bloodlust (BUT THANK GOODNESS THE POLICE DID NOT INTERVENE I WOULD HAVE CUT SOMEONE IF IT HAD BECOME A CRIME NOVEL) and it was extremely interesting to see how he began to unwind and his friends didn't notice - didn't care. In one scene towards the end he calls a friend and completely confesses all of his grisly murders and the friend laughs, completely unwilling to burst the bubble of self-indulgent unreality that the entirety of Upper Manhattan is living in.

One thing I liked is that he has several chapters that go by the same name that allude to the tautology of Bateman's life. 

(I had another thing to say and I just forgot what it was.)

Oh! In several scenes throughout the novel Bateman is referred to by his friends and colleagues by different names, and Bateman, once again too afraid to cause a scene, simply goes along with it. This poses a question: are all of these people who they pretend to be, or is everyone just following a facade out of politeness? This question became another core element of the story when Bateman murders a colleague, then finds that said colleague has been seen in London, and that his friends have eaten with him. Who did he kill? Who is Paul Owen?

Unfortunately, some of the murder scenes in the novel are just disgusting. Prepare yourself for some disturbing stuff to happen. 

I'm to-ing and fro-ing a lot in this review. Overall, I really enjoyed American Psycho, but I think I'm enjoying it more now that it's over. It allows me to think about the main theme of the novel without wading through designer labels and lunch dates and parties and a million other things I don't care about. 

I'm reading my friend's novel next. And on Sunday I'm starting Les Miserables, which is my August reading project. I must say I'm rather excited.

Oh one more thing!

XOXO Gossip Girl