Homage or ripoff?

I'm finally starting to tuck in to Jeanette Winterson's newest novel, The Stone Gods. I don't want to say too much about it yet because I'm just a couple dozen pages in, but a passage struck me last night with such force that I have to write it down here so I can mull it over and pose the question in the title to the universe.

Winterson writes:

Step into that water and you remember everything, and what you don't remember, you invent.

That simple sentence reminds me so much of this passage from Les Guérillères by Monique Wittig:

There was a time when you were not a slave, remember that. You walked alone, full of laughter, you bathed bare-bellied. You say you have lost all recollection of it, remember . . . You say there are no words to describe this time, you say it does not exist. But remember. Make an effort to remember. Or, failing that, invent.

I'm almost positive that Winterson is at least familiar with Wittig's strange and wonderful feminist dystopian novel (some people call it a feminist utopian novel, but I argue otherwise), so I can't help but assume she's tipping her hat somewhat to Wittig's narrative. Still, it's a little weird to see a similarity like that just jump out.

I love Winterson's writing style and I can certainly see where she's influenced by Wittig in many ways. If you've never read Les Guérillères (pronounced "Leh Gary Air"), I must politely nag you to do so. It's unlike anything you've probably ever read before.

Book cover musings, v. 3,223

How nerdy is it that I lust after book covers that I can't have?

For instance, I FINALLY got around to buying the new Jeanette Winterson book, The Stone Gods, and I was Googling the book to pull a jpeg of its cover for my sidebar down there, and lo and behold what do I see? A much cooler cover that is probably for the UK version of the book (at right). Bah.

Into the ether

So, internet, I'm up late (not really, it's only 12:30, but I'm tired), unable to find anything of quality on television. It smells like cat shit in here and I have had a sour stomach all day and haven't had much of an appetite until now (after crunching down on a nearly two-inch-long chicken bone in my three-day old chicken salad sandwich, I lost my appetite for a while). I don't know what's wrong with me, but I've felt asstastic since I woke up this morning (so it's not solely bad mayo or chicken bones). For some reason, I broke down a few minutes ago and ordered some lasagna from Camy's. I'm sure that will settle fabulously on my queasy gut. Especially if I have to sit here and smell fresh cat poop and watch Flavor of Love 3 (sorry, Sarah, but I just can't get on board anymore!) while I eat it.

I'm not really even sure why I'm on the computer, except that I always end up on the computer after idling at home for a while. It's a sickness. I sit there and read or see something on TV that reminds me of something else, and before I can blink and utter "tubes," I realize I'm on Google or Wikipedia or IMDb or some other info-saturated site.

I had decided it's time I change my book listing in the sidebar and link to the CA's new (and in-the-middle-of-development) book blog that I'll be contributing to, when I was suddenly reminded of Chuck Klosterman's infamous 23 questions from Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs, and started Googling away so I could find them.

Hey, my food's here. Time for a food interlude.

[nom nom nom]

Okay, that was actually pretty good. And I got to watch Harvey Birdman while eating, so that was cool. But now I have the hiccups and I still feel barfy. Ugh. I feel like there are worms in my gut. That is really gross. Maybe I just need to make myself puke. Mmmm, undigested lasagna.

Anyway. Klosterman's 23 questions. I had thought I might try to answer them just this side of thoughtlessly, since I'm kinda bored and putting off going to bed. Yeah, let's do that now. Maybe it will make me sleepy.

1. Yes.

2. No. Unless the horse had done something evil. I would, however, kick a horse in the family jewels, just like this fellow felt compelled to do. Repeatedly.

3. Turtle.

4. No.

5. Yes.

6. Yes. Reluctantly.

7. Sasquatch and Loch Ness can be packaged together and played as the big story; the president pre-biopsy doesn't trump that. I'm not even sure the president post-biopsy would. But the New Yorks Times is designed in such a way that there's not just one big story. All three stories could get significant play. I'm a nerd for spending more words on this answer than any other.

8. No.

9. Yes.

10. The Heart riff.

11. Exit, and call my mom. Don't fuck with gut feelings.

12. $10

13. Sasquatch and the Loch Ness monster.

14. Most cats would find it insulting, because most cats are jerks, but I think more likely is that most cats wouldn't bother with reading Garfield at all.

15. Probably exactly the same as I would now. Work, watch movies, read. Maybe spend more time with friends and family. Nothing fancy.

16. No.

17. I distrust them equally, which is to say, I'd probably leave the bar and go home.

18. Year in Europe.

19. Deny that I did it and try to convince her that she dreamed it, and is experiencing psychosomatic rib pain.

20. The indie film, duh, because I'm a true narcissist.

21. I'd keep it exactly the same; I have no regrets about how that went down.

22. The one everyone believes is true but isn't.

23. Mostly indifferent, I think.

Well, that was pointless.

Thank you and good night!!!

Listular: Master procrastination edition

• Random thought that just popped into my head while I was taking a shower: Is Jim Varney dead? Yes. Yes, he is. And what's so weird about that particular thought popping into my head today is that the anniversary of his death was yesterday. My shine is weak.

• I'm sitting here with wet hair and a list of errands that can't be run until the hair is dry. So what am I doing? Nothing that involves picking up the blow dryer, naturally.



• Somehow I've let my bookshelves overflow and books have begun creeping into the half of my bed that I don't sleep on. I don't mind it all that much, actually. They don't get jealous when I give attention to other books, and they don't get grumpy when I turn on the lamp in the middle of the night, or when I snore or hog the covers, which I would totally never do. But this clearly points to two things: My need for more shelving and my inability these days to pick a book and stick with it the whole way through before cracking open another.

• Actually, I did finish one of those books up there Friday night: Sharon Olds' Blood, Tin, Straw. I know a lot of people are torn about Olds' poetry and some people think is straight-up sucks, but I happen to love it. It's visceral, and often too pragmatic and matter-of-fact while being sweepingly metaphoric, but there is something so fearless about its honesty that I can't help but like it. If you need a sappy love poem to read to your SO this Thursday, you could try this one (forgive the Comic Sans).

• I think I'll go see The Savages some time today. One of the more interesting aspects of being single is the part where you go to movies by yourself. (I know there are some non-single people who do this too; I'm just saying, when I was part of a couple, I never would have gone to a movie alone because there's all sorts of relationship politics tied up in going to see movies without the other partner.) I went last week to see There Will Be Blood by myself, and had a pretty great time. Although, it does feel kind of weird to laugh when there's no one beside you laughing too. (Blood was fantastic, and yes, there were funny parts. At least they were funny to me.)

• I'm ready for spring. And things that are green.

Guess what I just added to my Amazon wishlist

Only what looks to be the most hilarious book ever!!!

When I grow up I want to be a book designer

Check out some of these 2007 book cover designs.

I particularly love The Worst Years of Your Life and Small Crimes in an Age of Abundance.

I swear I would read all the books on this list based on their covers alone.

Day 248 — 'The Game'

[for Wednesday, Sept. 5]



Not unlike The Rules, which I love for its sheer ridiculousness and tendency toward parody, this book is all about manipulation and tricksterism. ("It's not lying; it's flirting.") The former promises marriage; the latter promises booty. Both no doubt lead their followers down the path to become horrible people.

Which means they are excellent reads.

Project 365

1408 (obligatory spoiler alert ... sorta)

Phil and I went to see 1408 the other night. It was a decent-enough flick, carried pretty much by John Cusack and his sheer will to get to the end credits.

It's based on a Stephen King short story that I've never read, but like some of King's other works, it's about a writer and a place with a bad reputation and some spiritual residue, and how those environments can bring out the worst in people — terror, self-doubt, guilt, violence, etc. It was amusing watching Cusack verbally accost the mini-bar, and I got a good wince or two out of the creepy crawly thing in the vent, as well as the dead-daughter-turning-to-ashes bit. Now that's macabre.

I'd like to read the story to see if it's scarier than the film. I still contend that The Shining is the scariest (fiction) book ever written. Okay, maybe not ever written, but at least that I've read. I remember lying in my bed, heart racing during the topiary garden and fire hose scenes, having to put the book down for a while to settle (I was either in middle or high school during my first reading). But I'm open to suggestions of other scary fare. I haven't read a good scary book in a while.

Sucked in

Read this. I defy you to stop once you start. I'm on chapter seven and it's all I can think about. I'd like to add it to my Reader McReadsalot sidebar, but I'll have to come up with a cool way to display an online novel with no cover art. Hmmm.

Seriously, read it.

Day 138 — Grotto

I live near a Catholic school, which has a little grotto out in the courtyard. I never see any kids hanging around it.

[Insert clumsy religion-related segue here.]

I'm reading Christopher Hitchens' God Is Not Great, a rambly manifesto on the ways in which all religion — from arbitrary, black-cat superstitionist spirituality to Christianity to Islam — makes people think and do outrageous and harmful things in the name of pleasing/impressing/sating the sky fairy of one's choice.

While I don't count myself a big Hitchens fan, it's still a relief to see someone fearlessly call out and condemn those belief systems that seek to control the lives of all — even those who don't believe. He's preaching to the choir, I suppose (to use a worn-out religious metaphor), but sometimes when you count yourself a member of a choir that is largely ignored or despised, it's nice to be addressed every now and again.

(This photo has been darkened. Here's the original.)

Project 365