Ah your nose... ahem. Your nose is... rather large.

Because I am lazy and have only been reading books for English class (mostly) I write today of Cyrano de Bergerac by Edmond Rostand. So.

Basically- Cyrano has a big nose, but is very courageous and smart and poetic and stuff. He likes Roxane, who is basically just hot. Then Christian, who is also basically just hot, also loves Roxane. But Christian is an idiot. So Cyrano promises to provide Christian with words to say to woo Roxane, since Roxane has already fallen for Christian's smoking bod. Then Christian and Cyrano go to war, and Roxane (being, y'know, super intelligent and all) follows them because she loves the letters Cyrano sends her (signed by Christian) so much. And then she says she's love Christian even if he were ugly (zomg like Cyrano!) because of his pretty words. And then Christian dies, Cyrano won't admit he wrote the letters to be honorable, and Roxane goes to live in a nunnery for 14 years until Cyrano admits it as he dies.

Essentially, this play is supposed to be about how inner beauty ultimately trumps outer beauty. Since Roxane understands the deepness of Cyrano's soul. The last major symbol of thi in the book is Cyrano/Christian's last letter to Roxane. It is soaked with Cyrano's tears (his soul as he wrote) and Christian's blood (his body as he died). So yeah. Symbolic.

As this was a book I read for my English class, you know what that must mean- an angry rant! YAY!

The point has come that I literally hate having discussions in my English class because close-mindedness and ill-argued points irritate me so much. So a few major rant-points that I'd like to cover. (Point of clarification- is it still a rant if I use bullet points? Or is that too organized-and-not-angsty?) Anyways. Most will be about the double standards in this play.

• ---Essentially, throughout the course of the play, Roxane learns to value Cyrano's intelligence, but both Cyrano and Christian speak (in a poetic manner) solely of Roxane's beauty. This is a double standard. The man's mind is valued, but the woman's is not. Throughout the play, Roxane never really illustrates that she is an intelligent person. Essentially, she spends the whole time saying "Say pretty words to me. Please say pretty words to me. Prettywordsprettywordsprettywords."
• ---Cyrano calls Roxane intelligent once in the whole play. Christian does the same. No one else mentions her intelligence. I think that a compliment on intelligence should be taken with a grain of salt coming from someone like Christian. And Cyrano's opinion also isn't cannon. As shows this lovely explanation.
• ---‎"Because he and Roxane have known each other so long, Cyrano may see qualities in his lady love that are not readily apparent to others. It does not seem possible that one of his intelligence and sensitivity should be in love with a woman totally committed to the shallowness and pretentiousness of the précieuse philosophy."
• ---As stated, Roxane is a member of the precieuse society. She is materialistic, well-dressed, and beautiful. These things do not show great intelligence.
• ---The one point I will concede is that in the final act of the play, Cyrano recites his "gazette" to Roxane. Perhaps the argument could be made that this shows that Roxane cared about the news. But as the "gazette" was pretty much just all court gossip, it does not speak volumes about Roxane's intelligence.

The rant-y (but not all that rant-y) portion is now done. Honestly, I don't care that much about the double standard in this play, because I don't think it's that big of a deal, and it would match that time period. I just became frustrated with my English teacher's complete denial that such a double standard existed.Overall, I liked this play a lot. There's some phallic imagery, but I thought it was only mildly amusing, not crude (and not hilariously funny, either). Plus, the symbolism was really good, even if it seems a little cliche now. I would definitely recommend it, and I think it would also be a fun play to perform.

Total Book Count: 11

NonFic: 1 (YAY! I'll get to that in my next post.)

ZOMBIES!!!!! AAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!!

Although the coming Zombie Apocalypse  is possibly inevitable, I admit that up until last week, I had not taken any steps to prepare myself. I neglected to read the zombie apocalypse handbook, I do not watch Man vs. Wild, and I am not familiar with zombie weaknesses.

Thankfully, I am now better prepared.

Zombicorns by John Green is a zombie apocalypse novella that was written for charity. It was released online a few months ago, and I only just discovered it this week. Thank God I did. I now feel protected and amused.

Zombicorns as a disclaimer, has nothing to do with unicorns. Rather, it is about zombies that become "z'ed up" after consuming diseased corn. They then spend the rest of their existence attempting to grow more corn to infect the rest of the population and force uninfected humans to eat the corn.

The main character in the novel (Mia) has somehow avoided getting z'ed up, although her parents and sister were infected. She actually had to shoot both her father and her mother in order to survive, but she still watches over her little zombified sister. She brings her food, and tosses to her as she works in the cornfield. She is unable to accept that her sister's soul is gone.

Eventually, Mia meets Caroline, another girl who has survived. Together, they spend a lot of time slaying zombies (Caroline's really good at it)  and going around Chicago. They decide together that they will try to flee to Canada, where it is too cold to grow corn and thus too cold for zombies. But Mia is hesitant. She doesn't want to leave her sister. So Caroline shoots her sister. So Mia shoots Caroline. And the book ends.

I finished this book last Friday, and it was really absolutely perfect timing. My aunt, who works as a librarian at the Library of Congress, is a big fan of zombie apocalypse novels and zombies survival skills. I was actually able to have a legitimate conversation with her about how to survive if zombies attacked, and what to do to avoid being infected. I taught her about different anti-zombie weapons and zombie slaying techniques and she explained to me how to build a water-powered generator. We also discussed supplies. I said that convenience stores are the best play to find stuff because supermarkets will be scavenged too quickly. She suggested finding the warehouses where different suppliers are located. Apparently, she already knew knew some. We also discussed how all zombie apocalypse novels are metaphors for the society that we live in, the havoc that will occur when fossil fuels run out, nuclear war, or famine and disease.

It was a bit of an epic conversation.

Even though John insisted that it was poorly written, I thought it still had some really great lines like "I came to the conclusion a while ago that there is nothing romantic or supernatural about loving someone:  Love is the privilege of being responsible for another. " So good. It totally exemplifies why Mia continued to care for her sister when she was a zombie. It also says a lot about the way we love. I know that when I love someone, I want to protect them and care for them. I end up being responsible for them, especially if they need me. And maybe, that bond is stronger than plain old love. You can't shirk your duty.

I really liked this book because it was laugh-out-loud funny, surprisingly deep, and different from what John usually writes. I was happy to get a new fix.

The only thing that I didn't like about this book was that I didn't realize that Mia was a girl until halfway through. She wasn't called by name until she met Caroline, and she really acted more like a boy than a girl. I think this says a bit about John Green's writing ability. He's at his best when he essentially writes about himself, awkward, former-John teenage boy character. Mia was the same type of character. She was just a girl, and it felt a bit random. I like John's boys.

Also, new font. You like?

Total Books: 9

NonFic: 0, but I'm reading one now.

Papertastic Paper Towns

I am a fan of Paper Towns by John Green. I wrote several college essays abouts it, I made an actual paper town out of origami, and now I have written another essay about it, for a scholarship that I'm applying to. I just finished reading Paper Towns again, so I figured I'd share it. So yeah. Here it is. Any feedback would be welcome. It's based off a Francis Bacon quote. But I've deleted the quote because other people applying to the scholarship have been googling it. (Which, imo, is stupid. If they were smart enough to qualify for the scholarship, I'm sure they're smart enough to write a good response to it.)

Young adult literature has a reputation. It is often said to lack substance, often categorized as the precursor to “Chick Lit.” Books placed in the young adult sections of public libraries and book stores are doomed by many to the schema of fun but useless reads. Yet, this is certainly not always the case. The novel Paper Towns by John Green is a perfect example of this.

At first glance, Paper Towns is a “typical” young adult novel. The first portion of the book centers on a wild adventure through central Florida, following the exploits of Margo Roth Spiegleman, the unpredictable and mysterious female protagonist, and her childhood best friend Quentin. The pair spends the night getting revenge on those whom Margo once considered friends, pulling asinine pranks like putting fish in people’s cars and Vaseline on doorknobs. Then, the next day, Margo disappears. Quentin, who, in typical young adult novel fashion, has a crush on Margo, is bewildered. He expected to reconnect with Margo after years of drifting apart, but is left with the knowledge that she has run away for reasons he cannot understand. The remainder of the novel follows Quentin as he bonds with his friends and attempts to find Margo

From this brief summary, Paper Towns seems like a simple novel about adventure, pranks, and teen love. Yet, Paper Towns is not a candy bar book, a book that’s fun to read but that has no real value. Paper Towns is a meat-and-potatoes kind of book; it deserves to be read diligently and carefully.

Underneath it’s fun exterior, Paper Towns is about learning to imagine others complexly. Quentin, in the early parts of the novel, idolizes Margo, placing her upon a tall and towering pedestal. She is, in Quentin’s mind, perfect. She is popular, smart, brave, and spontaneous. Yet, as Quentin uncovers more details about Margo’s life, he begins to realize that he never truly knew her. Underneath her thin façade of happiness and perfection, Margo was depressed, lonely, and often confused. As Quentin begins to realize this, he gets to know Margo better. “Margo,” Quentin learned, “was not a miracle. She was not an adventure. She was not a fine and precious thing. She was a girl.”

The central theme of the novel is beautifully covered in one quote from the book: “what a treacherous thing to believe that a person is more than a person.” Paper Towns should be read diligently and with attention because this message is important in every person’s life. If one places others upon pedestals, one can only be doomed to comparative mediocrity. If we as people think of our friends and loved ones as perfect, we can only be disappointed in ourselves and each other. Paper Towns is a book that should be read carefully because this is a message that everyone needs to hear, a message found in a young adult novel, where most would expect it least.

Total Book Count: 8
Nonfiction: 0

Ibsen Fan-girlism

I told myself that I would update this on the first of February- that I would at least blog once a month. But alas, February 1 passed and I failed to write a blog post. I also failed to read very much, but I did at least read some pretty damn worthwhile literature.

Mmmmmmmmmmmm. Ibsen.

I am an Ibsen fan girl. I love him so much that I can even forgive him for occasionally using the grammatically incorrect “that” instead of “who” (mostly because I blame the translator). I like Ibsen because he is real, and clever, and he writes plays, and he has good last words, and he has an interesting view of Victorian ideals in the home and related to death, and because he’s hot shit.

This month (where “this month” is not actually “this month,” but rather “last month,” meaning January), I reread A Doll’s House and also read Hedda Gabler for the first time.

Quick Summary (non lol catz):

A Doll’s House: Nora eats macaroons. Husband Torvald scolds his “squirrel” for being a sweet tooth. Nora asks for mo monies. Nora meets old friend (Mrs. Linde). Nora tells Mrs. Linde she borrowed money from Krogstad to bring her husband to Italy to make him stop being ill. Krogstad says “Yo, Nora, you didn’t get your dad’s signature for the loan. That’s illegal!” Nora flips out. Krogstad threatens to tell Torvald, who is his boss at the bank. Nora flips out. Torvald finds out and flips out at Nora. Nora realizes she’s an independent woman and decides she doesn’t need a man to flip out on her. Door slam.

Hedda Gabler: Hedda shamelessly uses her dumb husband. Her old flame, Eilert Loveborg writes a beast book, with the help of Mrs. Elvested, who loves him. It pwns Hedda’s husbands future book, even though Eilert is a drunk. Eilert gets drunk and loses his manuscript. Hedda’s husband finds it and gives it to Hedda.  Eilert comes to Hedda to flip out after a night of drunken debauchery. Hedda gives him a gun and tells him to kill himself. He does, sort of, but does a wimpy job of it. Hedda burns the manuscript, because it’s Elvested and Eilert’s “baby” and then kills herself. Gun shot.

I actually read them both twice. Because I’m an Ibsen fan girl like that (and…um…because I obsessively study for English tests).

Speaking of English tests… You know what annoys me?

(What, Jackie, what annoys you?)

English teachers who miss major symbolism in works of literature. Take A Doll’s House. There’s this character in the play named Dr. Rank. His name is ironic on many levels. He is a doctor, so thus, a well-educated man. His name is Rank, which should mean “high ranking” or prestigious or something. But then, he is essentially treated as worthless by the other characters. He is considered a friend when a friend is needed, but the main couple in the play (Nora and Torvald) don’t care for more than a few seconds when he announces his imminent death by leaving calling cards with black Xs in the at the house. This highly ranked man is treated as if he does not matter. That’s Ibsenian irony for you.

But no, my English teacher does not understand this. My English teacher insists on calling him Dr. Stinky.

The frustration that I feel over the caliber of English classes in the American education system cannot be conveyed in words. Stinky. Really. Grr.

Another thing, too.  The title. For an assignment on the book, I was asked to explain why A Doll House is the more “appropriate” and “correct” title. Here is my answer:

I disagree with the statement that A Doll House is a more appropriate title, and the opinions of most people in the academic community support my stance on the issue of the title. The title A Doll’s House is used in most of the modern translations and most of the historic translations of Ibsen’s play. Most scholars (including William Archer, Paul Walsh, and Michael Meyer), agree that this is the more appropriate title. According to Egil Tornqvist, one of the most popular Danish scholars of our time, the Norwegian title, “Et Dukkehjem,” literally translates to “a small, cozy, neat home.” However, as this makes quite a poor title indeed, A Doll’s House is typically used. Thus, it cannot be said that the widely held opinion is that A Doll House is more appropriate than A Doll’s House.

So yeah. Not a great question.

Alas, though. This has been a complete bitching post. I really do adore A Doll’s House, and it is only for this reason that I become rather annoyed by people who get things wrong about it. It’s a fricking beast play. I listened to the audio book version from librivox last year and absolutely loved it (and I believe, blogged about it). Rereading it (twice) was just as fun.

Hedda Gabler is probably my favorite play by Ibsen, just because I absolutely adore Hedda. She’s such a manipulative, crazy bitch. It’s amazing. I at times find myself wanting to be like her. And then I realize she’s crazy. But I still kind of want to be her.

Gabler is the Ibsen play that most focuses on the themes of suicide. Essentially, Eilert kills himself because he has lost his greatest work and shamed himself by becoming drunk after long-term abstinence. Then, Hedda kills herself because Eilert did not kill himself heroically (his gun shot from his breast pocket into his stomach), her husband is working with Mrs. Elvested and no longer focusing on her, and she is failing at manipulating. The largest reason, however, is that her friend Judge Brack knows that she gave Eilert the gun that led to his death, and thus can control her with the threat of telling the police.

Hedda does not like to be controlled.

I think that the way that Ibsen thought about death is very interesting. In The Master Builder, the main character kills himself (maybe) by jumping off a tower after he is no longer the master builder anymore. Also, in A Doll’s House, Nora, on multiple occasions, states that she is not courageous enough to commit suicide, even though she might be involved in a huge scandal. Also, Dr. Rank, when Nora does not accept his love, essentially allows himself to die, as he is at that point, “worthless.”

Thus, in Ibsen’s works, it is clear that any character who fails to be courageous or fails to be worthwhile typically dies, usually at their own hands. I think this is interesting, and I intend to write my English research paper on it this year.

I read Looking for Alaska by John Green on Alaska Young Day. 'Twas just as awesome as usual.

I also read The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck in January, to prepare for AcaDec. All I have to say is

Old man on boob.

Total Book Count: 6 (eep)

Nonfiction: 0 (0% eep)