All We Ever Wanted Was Everything

All We Ever Wanted Was Everything, by Janelle Brown.

Chick book, Type 2.

Get The Code

And since SOME of you are complaining about "cheating"- there. I changed my background. Happy?

Off Season

Off Season, by Anne Rivers Siddons.

Chick book, Type 7.

Get The Code

The truth about girls and books... and movies

I've been reading, just not blogging. Since I have a lot of books to catch up on, I think it's time to admit the truth.

I read a lot of junk. Lots and lots of junk. I also read lots of really great stuff. But my go-to time killer/entertainment activity (after the TV/cross stitch combo, of course) is to read a book (or listen to one). Sometimes I am absorbing what I read, enjoying the nuances and/or literary genius that is laid out before me. Other times, well, I'm just killing time and don't really give a rat's ass what's in front of me. At those times I grab what's most likely to entertain me or something I can just pound the pages from front to back. That's usually some sort of juvenile or childlike fiction, or, sigh, chick lit. That's it! I don't care what you think of me! I'm a girl, and I read nonsense girlie books! (Not that romance crap, mind you, that's disgusting tripe.) I also watch chick flicks, too, got a problem with it? Didn't think so. No one's asking you to read them. And I'm not even asking you to read about them.

Well, except this one time. But I'd like to point out, no one is asking you to read this, so if you don't want to, well, don't. But I'm going to make my future girlie book blogging a lot easier by giving you this handy-dandy "all about chick lit" guide. That way you don't have to read about all the ridiculous details. FYI, I use movies (of course) to classify books, because most people have at least heard of these iconic (horrible) movies.

Type 1: Beaches. These are the stories that are all about THE GIRLS. In books about THE GIRLS we chronicle the friendship of two girls from beginning to the ultimately untimely end. Most often we meet these girls in their teeny little years. They are, of course, unlikely friends. They are, of course, singular friends. For some reason these unlikely people who attracted each other spend their entire lives attracting absolutely no one else. They have nothing in the world except for each other. They have saved each other from the world. THE GIRLS are all each other have, and all each other ever need. Until, of course, they fight for some reason... but don't worry, they make back up. Eventually. Maybe they fight again. Probably over a guy. Probably one of them has a happy relationship while the other is a bitter and bad friend about it, but don't worry... those other relationships won't last, because no man on earth can ever measure up to THE GIRLS, who complete each other. Now, I mentioned untimely end, and that is because THE GIRLS have an unspoken agreement to be each other's one and only until death do they part, which (in the best of Beaches-type books), they do. Generally it's a slow horrible death that really, really shows us just how MARVELOUS the friendship of THE GIRLS was. They were lucky to have each other. But, well, now they don't. They're dead. Shucks. And one does wonder... that was an awfully nice ending to the movie, but whatever happens to the other one?

Type 2: Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. Hereafter referred to as Ya-Ya (shudder). This is a loose adaptation of THE GIRLS storyline in that instead of just a pair, we have 3-6 GIRLS. Four seems to be the magic number, but there can be more. However many girls we need to round out a complete personality set, that's how many are in this book. You know, one wild, one shy, one angry, one crazy, etc, etc, all with the slightly ominous possibility of going completely nuts at the drop of a dime. (Generally at least one does.) Oh, and it helps if one is a writer, because that makes the story easy to tell. So you know, add one brainy, one stupid, one artsy, one sporty, one posh, one ginger, one baby... whoops, never mind. Lost my train of thought there. Anyway, this motley crew has the exact same specs and story lines as THE Beaches GIRLS, there's just more of them. Yikes. More women. Again. Shudder.

Type 3: Legally Blonde. This is the most fun type of chick lit. You know why? It's about NOTHING! Absolutely nothing! There's some girl. She's really girlie. She talks about shopping, shoes, boys, sparklies, hair, puppies, calories, soap, curtains, and her favorite color. Who cares? No one cares! But for some reason... it's still funny. Toss in a few humorous scenarios and somebody in the book who can crack good one-liners and it's amusing enough. It doesn't matter that the joke was about stilettos... it was still funny. And it made you turn the page to see the punch line. You don't care what the punch line is. You know you're just trying to find out what it is. And you know you're going to enjoy getting to the punchline because for some inexplicable reason along the way chickie will trip into a mud puddle and her skirt will fly up and reveal that she had to wear her holey granny panties instead of the more appropriate thong because her dog pooped in her fancy underwear drawer. Oh, and she's got a booger hanging out of her nose and toilet paper stuck to her shoe. Who cares? No one cares! It's still funny!

Type 4: Erin Brockovich. This is a movie all about THE WOMAN. And this WOMAN has POWER. And she will let NOTHING stand in her way until she has been given what is RIGHTFULLY HERS. WOMAN POWER. GO WOMAN, GO!!! Sometimes this movie is a little funny, say, Bull Durham style. Most often it's just a painful, horrible struggle where everything just keeps going wrong until at the end, sigh, we realize that she's had her power all along. Sort of Places in the Heart. I have nothing more to say about this movie, because of all the chick movies... this one is the most annoying to me. It's like women need to watch this movie to be reminded that they are, in fact, human, and that they do, in fact, have rights. Good grief. I don't need a multi-million dollar lawsuit to convince me that I'm worth something. Jeez, ladies, go read the Bible. Find some of your own self-worth, don't go watch some fantasy to convince yourself you don't have to sleep your way to the top. But sadly, this is the kind of movie that chicks watch and then go out the next day and try to conquer the world. (Invariably they fail and end up back at home with a quart of ice cream and a Type Seven.)

Type 5: The Wedding Singer. Now, nearly everybody that I know that grew up in the 80s loves this movie. So guys reading this are now whining at me: what?! That's not a chick movie! Stupid girl, that's just a good movie! Well, sorry guys, you been snookered. You didn't know you were watching a chick movie. It's a very special deceptive kind of chick movie called THE DATE MOVIE. This movie is designed to be universal in its appeal- There are plenty of funny jokes and amusing dialogue- probably at least one or two slightly crude references but more than likely no real nudity. Definitely none of those long annoying sex scenes. At least one nice romantic kiss- because really... sorry, guys, hidden among all that actual entertainment, this movie is really all about the romance. And you, poor sap, have been conned into seeing something that your date is counting on you taking some pointers from. She fully expects you to pretty much recite that sweet little speech at the end of the movie that leads up to a fabulous kiss (complete with musical fanfare) that the camera zoomed out from at the end. When you go to this movie, buddy... take notes. There will be a quiz.

Type 6: My Best Friend's Wedding. This is the WORST kind of chick movie!! EVERYBODY beware of this one. This one is in disguise. It looks like THE DATE MOVIE. Previews and all else will lead you to believe it's safe. But it's really (type 4) in disguise. Guys are ready to see at least one bathroom joke and girls expect the glittering smooch and happily ever after. Guess who wins? Girls win. This movie is all about the torturous journey that leads to the eventual happily ever after. And this journey is, indeed, TORTUOUS. The guy is a hapless idiot. The girl is supposed to look like some all smart and sassy and in control chickie, but is unhorsed from her control seat by the supposedly charming and gorgeous hapless idiot. Consequently, you hate them both. They are absolutely retarded. There is no reason for them to be together yet they continue to torture you with their how-we-came-to-be story. And then for some reason when they get together at the end, no one questions it. Apparently she doesn't care that he's just a beer swilling porn addict (his passions) who cares nothing about fashion or art (her passions)- love conquers all, right? Oh, how sweet. Here's the kicker. When this movie is over, the female watcher inevitably asks the male watcher "didja like it?" Male watchers beware: any answer other than, "Sure, it was great!" Is UNACCEPTABLE. You will sleep alone on the couch. Seen it happen. (Also seen "Sure, it was great!" turn into a very favorable scene on the couch. FYI.) Let's be totally honest here. Any girl who drags her guy to one of these movies and expects him to like it is an idiot. And any guy who is dating a girl dumb enough to ask her guy what he thought of this ridiculous cinematic experience is also an idiot. He DESERVES to be forced to act like he likes it in order to get what he wants. Basically, they are just the characters in the movie and they deserve each other. And their life is, predictably, tortuous.

Type 7: The English Patient. OY!!! This third type of romance movie is THE WORST. Wait, I said the last one was the worst. Well, that one is the worst, but this is the longest, so it is a special kind of horrible. In fact, it's length alone is something that classifies it's type. This movie must be long, epic, weepy, and void of any plot other than watery eyes. It makes you wish you hadn't ordered the extra large soda at the concession stand. The only thing you care about during this movie is whether or not the two lovebirds will overcome their extraordinarily bad circumstances (controlling parents, terminal illness, living miles apart, being engaged to powerful royalty other than your sweetie) and eventually live happily ever after. The kicker is, you're never sure until the last few minutes of the movie. More than likely, somebody will die or marry the wrong person or be chosen for Biosphere 14 and have to live underground for the rest of their life. It's a shame, really, because some morbid curiosity drives you to the end to find out what happens... and if you happen to be unlucky enough to watch this in a theater, you can't watch it in fast forward to speed up the tedious process of love-getting. And let's not forget the love-making- there must be at least one painfully gratuitous sex scene in this movie. With strange illumination, extra caresses, tossing heads, ecstatic gasps, and that very original morning-after scene with our two lovers basking in the glory of their night of passion. Man bare-chested and woman with sheet wrapped around their boobies. Don't even act like you don't know what I mean or are offended by my description... you've all watched it. So here's the thing about this romance movie- guys go to this movie expecting to win points and be rewarded for their suffering. They think their date will get in the mood and they'll have a little extra caressing themselves. Foiled again, guys- your girl has watched this movie and is completely overwhelmed emotionally by the magic she has just witnessed, and she will want to talk about it. You will undoubtedly answer a question incorrectly. A fight will ensue. You will sleep alone. On the cold, hard floor. Couches are for men who care about their women enough to truly open up and share their feelings with them. Sucker.

Type 8: The Other Sister. This is a tricky kind of movie, because it has to have a heroine who is truly an underdog in society. In this particular movie she's mentally retarded, but she could also be a little stupid, one-legged, or just plain ugly. It all counts. The point is, this poor underprivileged dear has too long of a list of odds up against her to possibly be able to fulfill her hopes and dreams. Guess what? She does it anyway! Turns out she can live on her own without burning down the place (if she's retarded), she can learn to read and gets a job (if she's a little stupid), she finds a boyfriend who makes her a prosthesis (if she has one leg), or contacts and conditioner fix all her problems (if she's ugly). The point is, this woman isn't REALLY impaired, but oppressed by society, and once she discovers her inner awesomeness, well, she finds out that the stars have been aligned for her all along after all. Go woman. Yay fuglies.

Type 9: Veggietales. Okay. Veggietales is not a chick flick. But it is the only predictable Christian-themed video production I could think of. See, Type Nine is totally different from all the rest of the chick books. It’s called Christian chick lit. It’s a very strange genre. The stories are always different, but equally predictable. The theme is always THE SPIRITUAL JOURNEY. Obstacles that test our little heroes and heroines are always merely blessings in disguise. I’m not calling it unrealistic, but only in Type Nine can a person rob a prayer group at gunpoint and then join said prayer group later after a spontaneous baptism in the lake. Not to mention the trusted aunt to whom our dear little Amish girl has always turned with her problems turns out to be her real mother, praise the Lord and we’re all going to forgive each other for living a lie for 25 years! True loves return from the misunderstood grave, unconverted husbands become holy rollers, and some god-fearing child single-handedly saves a tiny little western town from the beer-guzzling thugs that would drag it down to Satan’s lair. And that’s why this crowd of books is just like Veggietales. Always a different story, but always the same ending: God wins.

Type 10: The Thomas Crown Affair. There’s not much to say about this one except that it’s another one of those “I fooled you!” chick types. Most of the world sees this book/movie and thinks, “Hey, that looks good!” Its advertising is actually geared toward the male persuasion. It appears to have all the good guy parts- action, crime, cops, token hot chick. So guys go see it expecting to see a James Bond type flick, only to discover- zoinks! The hot chick isn't really a token. Unfortunately, the whole story revolves around her, and this little romp in chickland ends with requited love. Awww. Sorry guys, but your date is happy!

Type 11: Sex In The City. There is not much to say about this kind of book/movie/tv show/tv network/horrible, horrible horrible piece of literature. This is the kind of thing that any self-respecting woman will not admit to reading. (So if any woman ever admits to reading/watching/liking this stuff, be warned: she is more than likely just as shallow as all the characters in this book/movie/horror show.) I, however, have no self-respect, so I will admit to reading this… sigh… book. Ish. Thing. I will not, of course, admit to liking it. Hated it. However, as outlined earlier, I read everything. So it is no reflection on my character. But for the occasional boy who might happen upon this blog, I’m going to tell you the truth about this particular category. If you meet a girl who admits to “just looooving” anything written by Candace Bushnell, the E! Network, or the mall- any mall, mind you- then run. Run like the wind, Bullseye.She will spend $50,000 on a wedding and divorce you in six months when she doesn’t receive a new pair of shoes every day, every hour, on the hour. And not that Payless junk, either. You’re going to have to go designer, baby.

And that's it. That's what I've classified so far. I may add some classes from time to time as I come across something that doesn't fit into these categories, but I think that I've got the gist here for right now. If you think I've missed something, by all means, suggest another category. In the meantime, enjoy NOT having to read all the gory details about those silly books I read. I promise to read good stuff in between, too... if I have time.

Chains and Twisted

These are both by Laurie Halse Anderson, and the reason I am putting them both in one entry is because I'm WAY, WAY behind on logging these nifty books I'm reading. I'm about ten books behind. So I'm putting these together because they were both really fast reads and both by the same author and both really good, but I don't really have much to say about them. I like this author a lot because she writes lots of different styles and about lots of different subjects. (There are some very descriptive words in those last few sentences. I'm very proud of them.) By that I mean she usually writes about teenagers (these are considered "young adult" books, which are generally my favorite kind of fiction) but she sets her characters in modern high schools, historically tumultuous times, outer space, you get it. So she's a really versatile writer and I generally enjoy her stories. But that's pretty much what they are: just stories, and since I'm not 13 I'm not amazingly overwhelmed by the profundity. I just like reading them.

It reminds me of Judy Blume books when I was a kid. Judy Blume everybody read. Her stories were all about normal every day kids and all normal every day kids enjoyed reading them. Then she would write the story that includes a makeout scene or a kids "discovering" their bodies, etc etc, and the book became THE hot item as soon as it was found out. It was passed under desks from giggly girl to giggly girl. Our parents were horrified and forbid us to read all Judy Blume books and tried to get her banned from the library. But luckily, Superfudge was an innocent story about a four-year-old so only individual books like Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret got kicked off the shelves.

That didn't stop us from finding copies anyway so we learned how we must, we must, we must increase our bust. Obviously I was too goody-two-shoes to use that charm for myself. Sigh.

Anyway, long live young adult authors. Long may those over-intelligent eight-year-olds learn more about adolescence than they were meant to by reading them. Long may they suffer the consequences... long may I continue to block my scarring memories from second grade.

Travels with Charley

I don't read much Steinbeck, but when this book turned up in the pile of old-books-that-mom-doesn't-want-anymore, I couldn't resist it. It's John Steinbeck's true account of the time that he packed himself and his dog into a custom-built pickup camper and took about three months driving all over the US. As this is an activity I enjoy participating in quite a bit myself (minus the custom built comfort, substitute a teeny tiny car) I had to find out what the literary genius thought of the road. Would he have inspiring insights for my next trip? Did he think that the big ol' US of A is as great as I do? Would his fabulous journey render my silly little jaunts completely inconsequential?

Yep, yep, and nope. This book was devoid of the usual "literary genius" that laces Steinbeck's work. It may have been a bestseller, but no English teachers are assigning it for mandatory reading. It lacks that artistry and poetic prose that marks Steinbeck's greater known novels. Probably why I liked it so much.

As fun as it was for me to read Steinbeck's thoughts on many, many places I either knew well or have visited or have always wanted to visit, I admit to reading the book because I was intrigued by a person who hopped in the car with just a dog for company. Most people know I'm a little quirky about my dog, too, so this was fun for me to find a kindred spirit. But buried in those pages I found what I was looking for: just a little bit of validation.

Page 138: "Charley is no more like a dog than he is like a cat. His perceptions are sharp and delicate and he is a mind-reader. I don't know that he can read the thoughts of other dogs,but he can read mine. Before a plan is half-formed in my mind, Charley knows about it, and he also knows whether he is to be included in it. There's no question about this. I know too well his look of dispair and disapproval when I have just thought that he must be left at home."

Ah HA!! Validation!!! I am not imagining it! There are certain dogs who walk this earth who just have it. They got it: these dogs can read human minds and understand human words and communicate human emotions through eerily human expressions. And anyone who knows my dog Caleb knows... he's one of THEM. These strange breed of dogs that are either humans reincarnate or aliens deposited on earth contriving to one day take over our pathetic little species. Caleb can take one look at me in the morning (before I have raised my head from my pillow) and predict exactly what's going to happen to him for the next 16 hours. He can tell if his favorite massage client is coming over by the type of music I turn on. He knows whose house I've snuck off to visit without him and punishes me with his childish pouts when I come back home. This dog can tell exactly what I'm thinking and communicates his thoughts just as clearly as he reads mine.

It can be sort of disconcerting, actually... you get used to the idea of a dog as just this little furry accessory for a family. But just when you think he's some innocent dumb animal, you catch a glare from this creature in the corner and you realize you're looking at... something... that is more than just a cute furry face. He's taking you apart with his eyes. (And let me tell you, there are some moments where you really wish you had a little privacy instead of some strange dog with a voyeuristic attitude and narcissism complex boring into your soul.)

And it's not just me. Everyone who meets this dog says the same thing- he's one of a kind: He's definitely got more person-ality than dog-ness to him. We think it might be the eyebrows... Ah, Caleb. To know him is to love him.

Good Harbor

Well, truth be told, I have lots to say about this book. But I don't really want to share it with the entire world, so if you are really DYING to find out about this book, well, leave a comment with the magic word and I'll let you know if you get to hear my thoughts. :)

Otherwise... I read the book. Pretty much sort of stunk. That's it.

The Voyages of Dr. Dolittle

This book, by Hugh Lofting, is part of the WILDLY POPULAR Dr. Dolittle series that has been loved by children of all generations. Or so they say, anyway. So anyway, I loved the original Dr. Dolittle book, which is what made me excited to pick this one up because of my Newbery Award winners obsession.

(Oh, gross... I just have to put in that as I'm writing this I'm watching an episode of America's Got Talent online, and... oh, this is disgusting. There are way too many freaks in America. And of course they all come out of the Pacific Northwest... who in their right minds thinks it's okay to, like, have sex in a giant hoop suspended from the ceiling on national TV? I am ready for Andy to come back into town so I can watch So You Think You Can Dance again. *Shudder*)

Anyway, this book was fun. Okay, I mean. I couldn't figure out why I didn't love it as much as I liked the original Dr. Dolittle book. (Freaks... the hoop screwers went on to Vegas... I think I will die of horror shortly.) Then I got to the end and read the afterword... turns out the family/publishers of Hugh Lofting were re-evaluating these manuscripts for reprinting for some major anniversary or something. I didn't pay too much attention. I never pay attention after I've been annoyed a bit. And I was annoyed. Bottom line is, they didn't want to "offend possible readers" in this new "pc society" so they toned down a lot of that language from the last century that might be a misunderstood by today's readers. So, here's what I think of that.

IDIOTS!! Honestly, I know this is a kids' book, so you want to be careful what you put in front of them. But we're not talking about dropping f-bombs or anything. Words like that were horrible then as they are now, and Hugh Lofting certainly isn't going to throw language like that out in front of kids. But there are certain words that the meaning of which have changed a bit over time, and while they were benign then they might be questionable now. For example: Negro. Currently questionable. At the time of writing, the proper term for a human of African descent. And boob. As in, "Silence, you boob!" Currently a word that makes kindergartners giggle. At the time of writing, a benign synonym for idiot, dumbard, fool, stupid, stupid person.

So these are not horrific, horrifying words. And my thought is, if a child is mature enough to read a 300+ page book, a child is mature enough to be discussing language with their parents. As in, "Mommy, what does Negro mean?"... thus opening a door for Mommy to do some serious discussing with kidlet about racism, bigotry, stereotypes, history, war, civil rights, just to name a few. I mean, come on, people, what is literature for if not to educate minds and create discussions about issues? Certainly books are for entertainment- I'm the first one to say I don't want to learn a lesson but to be entertained by a book. (And nothing is more entertaining than the mental picture of an Indian chief screaming to his subjects, "Silence, boobs!") But literature that sticks should stick for a reason. It should be something that you can find deeper meaning in- even literature for kids. Now the only thing for kids to ask their parents after reading this is, "Mommy, what's a pushmi-pullyu?"- thereby introducing a FABULOUSLY intellectual discussion about giant submarine sized glass snails, parrots that are fluent in 117 languages (as well as being physics geniuses), and a floating island that rests on the back of giant whales. Yeah. THERE'S something that will enrich the darn kid for the rest of their lives.

So my gripe is, why should this book be called a Newbery Award winner if the book I'm reading isn't even the original book? Calling this book an award winner is like putting star shaped pasties over the nipples on a Titian and still calling it a masterpiece. Get over yourselves, publishers... keep Dr. Dolittle fun.