The Big Push!

I'm making a big push to resurrect my blog. My literary opinions must be vocalised!

Trials

The most frustrating thing about learning to play an instrument is that sometimes you suck. Right now (right, right now - I'm procrastinating) I'm learning to play Massenet's 'Meditation' and I want to bloody throw my viola on the ground and stand on it. Because I was better last week.

Why? It's frustrating. If I was just awful and I stayed awful all the time that would be absolutely fine, but that glimmer of musical credibility that I hear once in a while just makes it so infuriating when I sink back into the doldrums.

Matthew is self-deprecating today. It's a good thing because ninety-nine times out of a hundred he is pompous.

Book update: finished one 'young adult' fantasy novel for the library club. It's called 'The Keeper's Daughter' by Gill Arbuthnot. Enjoyable. A solid 7.8. I have to read another young adult fantasy novel and then I'm going to back to my darling littérature. Currently debating between Matthew Lewis's 'The Monk' (Gothic Romanticism -- ah!) and Vladimir Nabkov's 'Lolita' (infamous twentieth century Russian sexcapade - ah!) The life of a teenager is a difficult one.

Those damned novelists are being clever for the sake of it

Hello Blog. I'm sorry I was away for so long. I'm only using you now as a procrastinating tool. I hope you don't mind.

I have heard bad things about 'Tess of the d'Urbervilles' by Thomas Hardy. One such quote is "That's an awful book", coming from my absurdly knowledgeable librarian as I took it out. I just finished the first 'phase' this morning and so far I don't really see what they're complaining about. So far my only qualm is that the narrative is a bit jumpy and hard to follow: lots of really important things seem to happen in the time between chapters. Another irksome thing is that damned 19th century prudishness. It is really very difficult to discern when anything of a sexual nature is happening in the book, despite it dealing centrally with the theme of sexuality! Humbug.

Since my last post I also finished 'The Sea, The Sea' by Iris Murdoch. It took me so very long to read.

'The Sea, The Sea' is very much a novel of the brain. First and foremost, it is written in the first person - diary entries; you can never trust diaries - you learn about the protagonist by reading between the lines, and learn nothing about other characters because they're coloured by the protagonist! Standard first-person isn't quite so bad, even when it's heavy on the interior monologue - you can understand other characters by dialogue, movement. In a diary, however, the only things you can pick up on are the central character, and themes.

We'll start with character. That's a bit easier. 'The Sea, The Sea' begins with ninety pages of uninterrupted musings. That might sound awful, but it really was fascinating. Charles Arrowby, the protagonist, is a playwright who retires to the sea for peace and solitude. For a while he revels, playing the part of the hermit with obvious grandeur. His writing is lavish and descriptive, incredibly romantic. However, in complete contrast with his writing, his actions show discontent - hallucinations, injuries etc. It seemed to me that he was searching for a kind of solitude he was never going to find. Furthermore, he was trying to deceive himself with romantic imagery and endless philosophy.

As the novel progresses so too does Arrowby's view of the sea. Things become chaotic, people come to visit him, and the sea once again becomes an effigy of peace. I thought it was a rather cyclical novel, but that would give away a lot of the plot.

Oh! It's important to not that Arrowby is a horrible, horrible person and if you can't get past that you won't enjoy the book.

This review is horrible. It has no structure.

THEMES. Actually, I should go do some proper work. Themes will come later.

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

Various Wonderful Things

It’s been a good few weeks. There was Easter (which was pleasantly uneventful) and then the first week of school, which, despite draining me to exhaustion point was quite fun. A few days ago I got the results of my music exam back, and I was relieved, to say the least.

After my horrific sight-reading and some other parts of the exam that I have forcefully removed from my memory, I was pleased to discover that I got 118. With 100 being a pass and 120 a merit, this wasn’t too shabby. I’m actually really happy with it because I know that if I improve my sight-reading everything will be shiny and wonderful. I also haven’t looked at my viola in weeks which makes me happy and…un-stressed.

So that’s one think to be thankful for. My first week of Easter was so fantastically easy and agreeable. It consisted of getting up at 9:30 every morning and going for coffee with some friend or another. Nights I stayed with a friend or just stayed at home shamelessly watching “Gossip Girl” (with more on that coming up).

Week Two was spent in Portrush where I took long walks on the beach and played dangerous amounts of '”The World Ends With You”. It’s a fantastic little DS RPG set in Tokyo’s coolest district – Shibuya. I would explain the whole story but you just have to play the game and let it unfold naturally. Let’s just say that I became very, very addicted. (For those that care this week was called ‘Week Two’ because that’s what they do in the game. Now anything that consists of a day and a number is just unbearably cool to me.)

That weekend was my first time in the water since March, but I wasn’t surfing. We found this amazing little pool place, and, nearby, an even more amazing little pool. It was really deep and had a large rock hanging above it so you could dive in from several metres up. Major fun. So, as you may have guessed, that weekend was all about exploring the dear Antrim coastline in my wetsuit.

Going back to school was unpleasant, to say the least. 7:35 is such an ungodly time. For the first five minutes I trudged around like a stupefied zombie, boiling the kettle and painfully climbing up the stairs. Mornings are awful. But then when I got to school everyone was there and it was fun and we chatted and laughed and everything was as easy as breathing. I’ve decided that I need people around me or I go all philosophical and depressing.

So the rest of the week commenced like that, but with the growing pressure of my impending drama performance, which is how we skip to today (or yesterday, because the story begins then).

Let’s be clear. Yesterday kicked ass. It was funny and fun and school is fun because there are lots of people. So when I destroyed my poor ankle in P.E. I just lay there laughing for about five minutes because I was having too jolly a time to let pain get in the way. After that I milked the ‘I’m in pain’ thing until I got home.

Skip forward to this morning, and my foot was STIFF. I doddered even slower than usual to the kitchen then practically pulled myself upstairs into the shower. Everything was hunky dory except for how slow I was. Then, just as I was buttering my (home-made!) pancakes I took a sudden bout of sickness. I collapsed into a chair, sweating, freezing and ghostly, and proceeded to retch unsuccessfully into a bowl. I didn’t eat my poor breakfast and felt so bad because my homemade pancakes just sat there not being eaten.

So I watched TV and did the whole sick thing for a while and now I feel fine, which is irritating. A sixteen-hour day is far too long if you don’t have school to contend with. Right now it is 1:40 and I am bored numb. Hence the blog post. I can’t believe I need school so much.

Well, anyway, I started texting various friends to keep them busy (because school is just as boring as home when you’re there) and then my friend Ben said that my drama performance was tomorrow, first period. Which was like “OH MY DAYS I’M SO SCREWED” and I got all angry at him because he just told me to spite me because he’s like that. However, my teacher never told me this and even though I know it’s true I can just say I didn’t know when the performance was and Ben’s grand plan will be foiled. Because I am 100% not ready to perform tomorrow MORNING (opposed to tomorrow at 11:00am which I had assumed to be my time). So, I’m freaking out and all nervous and angry and stuff.

I actually have a lot going on tomorrow. It will be hellish. There’s the whole drama thing, then my music lesson (which is always a stressful experience) then I miss the whole afternoon for my Duke of Edinburgh practice expedition. It all points to carrying a lot of bags to school tomorrow.

That’s all a bit too ‘real’ for my taste, so let’s delve into Gossip Girl. It’s an American TV series (what else) set in New York’s lavish Upper East Side, and wow is it superficial. I positively love the glitz and glamour and all the scary, edgy parties and bitchiness and the venom and the fashion and the silliness of it all. The best part is that it’s seen through the eyes of a blogger called Gossip Girl who reports in her acidic, intrigued manner about all the cool people and their worries. It’s so clever because it makes what are sometimes serious matters seem so trivial and juicy. I do love it.

One last thing. I LOVE LaGaGa. Her actual songs are a bit samey and electronic, but she is a fantastic person. Her rendition of ‘Viva La Vida’ puts Coldplay to shame and she has SUCH an infectious flair for music. She’s also positively bonkers, which I love. Her teacup is hilarious.

P.S. I’ve been reading until my eyes bleed. I was about to say that I’m not going to do a review but I am enjoying procrastinating doing nothing by writing this post, so I think I will. The book was “Broken Soup” by Jenny Valentine and it was for my library club this Friday. I didn’t like the look of it at first because the blurb was VERY uninformative and it irritated me. However, I gathered from it that the book was some sort of mystery: intrigue, scandal, mad characters. I was mistaken.

Sure, chapter one was like that, but chapter two set the scene for the whole book. The protagonist’s brother, Jack drowned and now she and everyone around deals with it. There’s also a mystery element but it is drowned out by all the lament. I have to say I was disappointed that it was about some guy that had died (make no mistake, he was the main character) and I wasn’t getting BORED of reading about these people’s shattered lives, I just didn’t want to be all depressed by the nature of death. The author did have good writing ability, but it was all rather pessimistic and samey. The mother was the Mary-Sue ‘crushed parent’ who just lay around taking drugs. She frustrated me. However, I liked everyone else (except for Bee’s druggie dad that everyone loved but I thought they were stupid for leaving an infant in his care) and overall it was a good enough read. It was sweet and it taught me all about the importance of family etc.

And because I love Gossip Girl:

XOXO Gossip Girl

The Weekend of Friday 6th - Sunday 8th March

I got out of school at 3:25 as usual and walked down to the library for my monthly book club. It had actually been two months since we met so we were discussing Meg Rosoff's What I Was and the infamous...Twilight.

Despite this being the least eventful part of my weekend I plan to do a little mini-review of each novel :3

What I Was really set my heart pacing when I read the blurb. Young love, contemplation of life, and the seaside. It ticked all the boxes. That's why I think I was so disappointed by it. The protagonist, instead of being the confused, fantastically lovable little boy I wanted turned out to be cynical, supercilious and uncaring. But you can't blame our dear author for having a character that was mean, could you? No, but you can blame them for said character turning from sarcastic elitist to blubbering romantic in the space of a chapter. Oh, yes! He's fallen in love; it's perfectly justifiable. 

No. Characters do not change in three seconds flat, no matter how great their love. They EVOLVE. 

Anyway, I trudged through the next 120 pages hating the new hapless Hilary (male) as much as the old cynical beast. The book became rather hopeless after I discovered that Finn, the adventurous young boy that lives in a shack by the sea and doesn't belong to the government, was as interesting as cardboard. The author was trying to show us that he had never been in human contact and thus didn't know HOW to have emotions, and she succeeded. Like I said, cardboard.

But then something happened. Dear old Finn disappeared and Hilary stole his shack and became "one with nature." Oh, it was splendid. It was the romanticism of Hilary mixed with Finn's idyllic lifestyle for 60 pages of almost uninterrupted nature imagery and contemplation of life with some delightful metaphors thrown in. 

And then the book ended and I felt that it had somehow redeemed itself. Slightly. Though one quarter of the book being a good read is simply not enough.

Now on to Twilight. We all love this novel at first. "Oh, isn't Edward lovely?" "It's so romantic!" After time the positive thoughts of the book atrophy in your head and are usurped by dark, twisty one about how two-dimensional Bella is etc. We had such fun ripping this and its movie adaptation apart on Friday. Because no one likes Twilight anymore. 

That'll do for Twilight. I'm still exhausted from Friday.

Saturday morning brought an early rise to my friend David's house to shoot the rest of his movie. I played a chav (ignorant, brutish English teenagers) and it was tremendous fun. I found out last night that it's on Youtube so everybody go look at "My View on Chavs and how they Resemble Zombies". It will make you laugh or your money back. So I stayed there for a while and played make-up artist/cameraman then returned home. My friend Jonny came over and we didn't go into town like we had planned. So we played on the Wii and watched some TV online and stuff.

That night I had to go play the viola at the Ballymena Academy Old Pupils' Association Dinner for about half an hour. When I came out it was WET. Lightning danced about the sky and the cheerful cacophony from inside and given way to thunderous roars in the sky. It took about five seconds to get from the doorway to the car, but I got WET.

Yesterday I went shopping and bought a jacket that I thought was grey but later discovered was green. I still heart it and am wearing it as I type. I also got a pair of shorts that mock me because it is too cold outside to wear them. I bought a few bracelet-y things as well because I always wanted to have random junk to string around my wrist.

I had a sudden urge tonight to run. But I was with our elderly dog so it wasn't going to happen. Now I have a not so sudden urge to get up at 7:00am tomorrow and go for a brisk morning run. Unforunately I'm 90% sure it's dark so early in the morning and our shower is broken, which means I would be sticky in school. Unpleasant.

Oh! I read The Great Gatsby and was really looking forward to talking to myself about it. However this blog entry has gone on long enough and I'm about to run out of battery power. Goodbye, myself.