Something Wicked Comes This Way

I really need to stop shopping online for books, because I am constantly finding new things I want to read (and also, not getting any real reading done.) For example, I really want to take a look at Wicked Plants based on a interview and review that said it was particularly gory.
Also, Freud did cocaine?

Toronto Women's Bookstore

Found this intense looking Women's Bookstore in Toronto.  They look really cool.  I totally wish I could go there and volunteer, but alas, I have no plans to go to Toronto anytime soon. 

Indian Comic Books

I have a lot of love for Indian musicals, and today, I came across this article on Indian comic books and their recent huge festival.  This looks so cool!  I just about never go to conventions, but seeing this made me want to go.  I really want to check out some of these comics sometime too. 

A Red Card for the President

Certain friends of mine are totally obsessed with the Egyptian uprising, and I admit that I find myself occasionally perking up when I've heard anything about it.  I'm loving this little article about how censored books are coming back now that the previous regime is gone. 

Book Porn

Alexander gave me this huge book catelog today.  As I leafed through it, I realized how many of the books being advertised were things I would read.  Then it occurred to me: this catalog is like porn to me.  (Or, at the very least, a Victoria's Secret magazine.) 
I spent about a hour today making a big list of books I'd like to read. 

The Mona Lisa Code

I read the first six chapters of the Da Vinci Code years ago, and it was okay.  The debate over what happened to Mary Magadalene always struck me as silly because the evidence was so scanty either way and really, people of faith are going to adhere to their faith no matter what the historical evidence is.  (That's why it's faith.)
So today it was announced that there is a set of letters and numbers in the eyes of the Mona Lisa.  I find this really interesting though also sort of nuts, because it just seems too much like the book and the movie.  And I find myself wondering if someone else didn't paint the "code" in, just because, again, it smacks of being way too easy.   

Cleopatra

There's a review out this week on a couple of books on Cleopatra.  Being a big history nerds, I think I'm going to need to read these two books.  Schiff apparently calls Cleopatra a monster, which makes me a little wary, since that sounds like male fear of women's power talking there. 

But the review had some good details.  For example, Egypt was a egalitarian (or at least more egalitarian society.)  I'd like to read a book on that, frankly, since socieites that allowed women significant power seem to be lacking and the books on them most certainly are. 

Also, there's apparently a movie coming out featuring Angelina Jolie!  I'm already excited. 

Making an Effort to Understand

I've been reading this book about a man who decides to live in a foreign country.  At one point in the novel, his step-daughter gives him a hard time for not speaking the local language. As I was reading this book, I found myself wondering why he wasn't making an effort at it.  I would want to make an effort to learn some of the language, even though I am miserable at other languages; one could even argue I'm miserable at my own native tongue. The narrator was there for years, was there to understand; why did he not make an effort? He never explains in the book, (or at least he hasn't explained yet, and I'm about two-thirds of the way in) but certain characters give him a hard time over it.
I guess I could interpret this to mean that the reason he never fully grasps the country and the reason he is never fully accepted is because of the language barrier?

The Well-Read Wife

This morning I stumbled across a blog called The Well-Read Wife.  It basically looks like a small book review blog. 
What got my attention (and, obviously, got me thinking) was that the site's title basically identifies the author in a traditional woman's role.  I'm not sure how I feel about this.  Of all the things to think of one's self as, being something of another's seems strange.  Haven't women spent enough time being someone else's and not their own? 
She is reading Cassandra Clare, and, back before she was a well-loved children's author, I read her too, so it is hard for me to hate on her.  And I do like the author's (the well-read wife's?) observation about the Millennium Wheel being so Victorian.  So I guess it isn't all bad.  

Parents Just Don't Understand

I happened upon this post about recently banned books.  I notice they're almost all young adult books, which makes me shake my head and quote a particularly great rapper: Parents just don't understand.

If you look at that list, you don't seen poetry books by Charles Bukowski or novels by John Updike.  No, it's the stuff that teens read.  I feel terrible having read only two of the books on that list, but some of these books weren't even out when I was a teen, and I can already tell you, my teen!self would be totally all over at least one of them just based on the title alone.
And if there's anything my parents failed to do, it was stopping me reading, especially if I decided I needed to read it.  I worked through a lot of romance novels and religious books as a teen because I wanted to. 
So, besides all the other problems with censoring books, I'm pretty sure it's a useless endeavor because bookish teens are usually the last people who are going to be told what they can't or shouldn't read.  And if anything probably encourages them, it's telling them no. I can say from personal experience that it is really easy to hide books from your parents.  I just removed the jackets of my Danielle Steele books and put all my religious books under the bed for easy night time access.  (That's right: normal teens put porn under their bed; I put The Book of Mormon.) 
So make sure you celebrate banned book week by doing something naughty: getting into bed with an "illicit" book.  Trust me when I say it doesn't have to be a dramatic choice like Story of O. 

Working Women

At work two days ago, a man came in looking for a product that my Grandfather used to love.  My Grandfather has been dead for many years now, and hearing this man talk about, who was also almost certainly a Grandfather himself, made me strangely sad. 
I don't think about my Grandfather too often, and usually when I do, it's not in a way that affects my mood. 
It makes me so happy when people in the store are happy or nice to me.  Yesterday, a woman named Jenny came in who gushed over our stuff, telling me how much she liked it.  She talked my ear off about her life, telling me about her sons in their late twenties and what they like to drink and mentioning that her husband has cancer.  She told me all sorts of things that I never knew. 
I'm not sure why, but I relate well to random older women.  Everyone talks about age gaps and generational differences, and I'm sure there are some, but the only people I consistently feel that with are my parents.  Otherwise, I've had plenty of opportunities over the years to do things like giggle over how much we like Keeping Up Appearances or beans on toast or chatting about creative writing.  I like old ladies, which makes me confident that one day I'm going to be a great old lady. 
I told Jenny she should considering working there, since we're hiring.  At first she was like "Oh, no," and then I could see the idea forming in the back of her mind, like watching a flower bloom in real time.  I suspect she probably will consider it, and if she does work there, I'll be happy for the coworker.  
In other work news, I came in yesterday to find Ashley at the counter (which we're not suppose to do unless we're doing something that specifically has to be done behind the counter) reading a book (which I've never heard anyone say we couldn't do, but I've never heard anyone say we could.)  I decided not to comment on the book situation, because it's not my business and because I probably wouldn't want Ashley telling me how to do my job. 
Right before she left, Ashley turned to me.  "Don't you have a book?"
I did, actually, in my purse, but that's because I try not to go anywhere now without carrying some reading material along.  But I didn't want to get it out and I sort of skirted around it. 
"There's nothing else to do," she commented.  "We can't clean anymore and all the stock's out."
That was true, though I managed to find stuff to do.  I flipped over a puzzle and made in upside down, which was challenging, but I managed to muddle through it after two hours.  And then, after that, I worked on replacing a few extra things sitting in back by putting them on the shelves.  It didn't even occur to me to get a book. 

Night at Grandma's

It looks like I am going to spend tonight at my Grandma's.  It's not that big of a deal, but after all that has happened today, my Grandma threw up right as my Mom (who is also with me here tonight) got her into bed.  She was literally sitting on the side of the bed. 
I don't really want to spend the night here, since the power has gone back on now at home, but there's not a lot of choice in the matter.  I'm just grateful I don't have to go to church tomorrow. 

I watched a little of SNL tonight, which featured Taylor Lautner.  Like I've said before, I don't like Twilight, but I'm falling further in love with Taylor Lautner.  He's so sweet, and I get the feeling that he is at his happiest when performing, as all great actors are.  I love that he can't give an interview for beans. 

Oh God.  Am I emotionally cheating on my current celebrity boyfriend, Vincent?
I'm so sad Lautner is going to GVSU, a school not so far from my school.  In my imaginary world, I totally charm Lautner, not by throwing myself at him or by dolling myself up, but through my wit, like Elizabeth Bennet.  This is, I know, crazy talk. 
I texted my sister, since my Mom told me she likes Lautner.  This surprised me, because, well, she hates reading, so there's no way in hell she's read the books.  And she never mentioned the movies.  It's good to know that we have the same taste in men in at least one way.  Usually we totally disagree. 
Then I texted Nate, since he thinks Lautner is a moron.  He complains that he sounds like an idiot in interviews.  I disagree, obviously.  I just think he's nervous when he gives interviews, afraid he's going to say something stupid.  As someone who has given interviews before, I can tell you it's nerve wracking, especially when the interviewer comes at you with something you didn't expect.  And I've said some super stupid things during interviews.  It's like a curse I have. 
Nate and I talked a little, giggling over stuff.  I love him so much.  He's a nice boy.  
My Mom is falling in and out of sleep as I move around in the apartment doing things.  I'm trying to read through that romance novel that I mentioned. 
So far, it's been okay.  There's been some explaining of Amish culture, which I like.  The character keeps talking about how obedient she is, and that drives me nuts.  I hate hearing about women who are obedient.  Seriously, it's the most famous archetype for women, right behind women who are sluts and leave the narrator/stand-in for author all confused as to what women want. 
The other thing this book discusses is the tourist trade associated with the Amish.  Josie is into the Amish (she likes to take pictures of them, which I quietly disapprove of.)  But I was thinking, maybe if I ever make some money worth talking about, I'll buy her a weekend trip to Pennsylvania to see the Amish.  She'd love it.  And how expensive could it be, really, since the Amish are notoriously old-timey. 
Of course, what I should be doing is watching the end of this season of Doctor Who, but there are other distractions, like my Grandma getting up in the middle of the night. She just threw up again.  Christine has been talking about the season finale all day, making vague illusions to what happened.  I want to yell at her to stop, because, seriously, it's annoying me. 
This is the first time I've ever spent the night at her new place.  It's going to be kind of strange to see how it compares to when I was a kid and spent the night at her place. 

Anger and Artwork

Another day of babysitting.
This time, the little girl got really upset when her Mom decided to leave.  I've babysat for this family before, and yesterday she was fine, so I don't know what got her so upset, but she went ballistic in that impotent way that most children get.  I found myself thinking about the things my Mom would say to me when I was this way as a child: "I'll give you something to cry about."  (Or my Grandma: "I hit you so hard, your teeth go marching out of your mouth!") 
I'm a big fan of using psychology to deal with children.  I don't know much, but I've been consulting with Josie, and will continue to do so as this job continues as how best to deal with children.  My sense right now is that you shouldn't reward any bad behavior with any kind of attention, positive or negative.  So, the little girl sat in front of the door, screaming and crying for her Mom, and I let her.  I sat nearby reading a book, on the off chance that she did something destructive or ran out the door into the street so that I'd be close at hand. 
It was tough to concentrate on my book, but I managed through three chapters sitting there.  One of their pet cats came by and meowed at me.  She, on the other hand, would eventually get tired and just lay there, in front of the door.  Then she'd get enough energy back and start hollering again. 
I was glad that her Grandma, also in the house, is deaf.  Lucky thing.  It takes me a few minutes to get use to the screaming before I tune it out. 
The last time she had one of these fits in front of me, last year, she ran into her room and screamed in the same way, with the screaming becoming shorter and with longer gaps of silence in between.  She screamed herself so badly that when I finally went in there to check on her, she had fallen asleep.  I was hoping this would happen this time, though I was wary of her sleeping in front of the door.  This little girl doesn't have regularly scheduled naps, but I feel like she should.  I suspect her parents are just not around enough to enforce them, and babysitters like myself probably don't like to start fights. 
After reading three chapters, I moved to the couch.  She could see me sitting there watching her, so maybe making her think I was even less interested would help.  I read through a whole another chapter and I was starting a fifth when she finally got up, went to her room, and brought out a toy, and we started playing.  Like nothing was wrong. 
That took about forty-five minutes.
We played with this dress up doll that was basically an updated version of paper dolls, only the clothes and doll had magnets so they'd stick better.  Then we played with her cats, which I like.  I get the feeling I am already their buddy because they follow me into rooms and come up to me looking to be petted.  The little girl got out one of those toys that is just a strip of cloth with a bell on the end.  She would run from room to room and the cats would chase her. 
One of the things the Mom left me to do with her was to help her set up a toy that required some artistic patience.  She asked me if was arty.  I just told her no, instead of the longer answer of "I'm creative.  No one who makes arty would dare say they were arty.  It's a demonized word by anyone who does it past eleven."  Also, I feel like it's not my job to be your kid's art teacher. 

Women's Writing Book Shopping

I'm off on another round of book shopping online.  This time I'm looking into lesser-known "classic" works.  Things that look good, so far:
The Enchanted April About four women who don't know each other but rent a villa together.  I'm wondering how much of this book will be like all these modern works with four female characters interacting with each other (The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, Sex and the City, etc.)
Belinda It's a feminist book that makes fun of the upper crust of England.  That's really all I needed to hear. 

Silas Marner  About some old man who finds redemption in raising a child.  I'm interested in it because it has such a silly name and because it's by George Eliot. 
Captivity and Restoration The authoress chronicles her time being captured by Native Americans.  This could be used in a both a historical or literary interpretation. 

A Lady's Life in the Rocky Mountains  Again, a woman talking about her experience that is both historical and literary.  The only problem with this one is that I can only find it via Kindle, which I don't have. 
The Circular Staircase Another Kindle-only one that I'm going to have to try to scout out elsewhere.  I'm interested in this one because it's plot is similar to The Turn of the Screw.  I'd like to write a comparison of them. 

Selected Stories of Katherine Mansfield Because I haven't got short story collections on this list yet. 
The Upas Tree One of the many things I look for with books is the possibility to write about them academically, and this book, about a (almost certainly white) man who experiences the magic of an African tree.  Probably an easy book to consider race under.  

The Life of Charlotte Bronte  I actually don't like Jane Eyre strictly as a reader, but I like it as a work to analyze.  I've heard that this Bronte was particularly interesting, so I want to read about her. 
Wuthering Heights  Saw a film version of it, thought it was trash-licious.  Want to read, again, because I'm a feminist. 
Ruth Hall About a woman who loses her husband and is forced to write to support herself.
Night and Day I've read A Room of One's Own a couple of times now.  I like what she says, but I've never been impressed by her writing.  Maybe trying another book will change my mind?  Also, look at the cover of the book on the link.  That is the most ridiculous cover I've ever seen for a Woolf book.  Someone had no idea what they were doing when they designed that. 

The Laughing Cavalier It's by a Hungarian woman.  So it's a must read for me. 
The Slyph  I had no idea that the Duchess of Devonshire was also a writer.  I'm curious now to see how good of a writer she was. 

Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl See above explanations about literature and history and non-white characters. 
Curse you Amazon, curse you Internet for making it so easy for me to see that yes, there are even more books out there that I want to read.  Because God knows I don't have a huge pile in my room right now.  

Five Sisters: The Langhornes of Virginia

Once again, I have found myself pining for a book I find online.  This time it's Five Sisters: The Langhornes of Virginia.  I already have so many books that I keep promising myself I'm going to read and never do.  As you readers know, I am a massive history nerd and my powers of resistance are low. 
Out of all the interests one can have, I guess I should be grateful that one of them involves me developing my brain. 

Library Fantasy #2

I spent a ton of time today and last night doing reading for various classes (a piece on the Crusades, one of Saint Louis, part of a book on Shell Oil in Nigeria, Oranges are not the Only Fruit, "Recitatif," a Winterson article.) Mostly, when I'm doing a lot of reading, I wander around until I find a comfy/semi-quiet spot to work in, since I don't have a couch at my place right now and I get antsy if I'm not moving.
One of my favorite quiet places are on the second floor of the building I live in. There's these two different rooms in two different corners of the buildings, and they're perfect. Generally, no one's there, and there are leather couches and tables and chairs. One of the rooms has tons of books, which I cataloged as a sophomore. Last night and today, I opened the windows, and enjoyed the nice weather and the perfect atmosphere for productivity. The weather has been a big help in keeping my mood up, and being left alone made it possible for me to really concentrate. I actually don't mind interruptions, usually, from friends. (It's when it's people I dislike it's a problem.)
As I was sitting in this reading room, I found myself fantasizing about having a large library someday. A nice library is a real steal. (The picture is from a conceptual piece for Buffy the Animated Series, which never happened. As of right now, it's my ideal library, except I want there to be comfortable, huge chairs, like the kind you find at Barnes and Noble, and blankets and even Snuggies.) I want to have lots of books, strange ones, leather ones, fugly ones. I want there to be no room for anything else, so there's no art on the walls. Except for Roman Empire busts. When I was in London, I hung out a little at the British Library, and one of the workers told me of a library they had received was cataloged by whatever Roman bust was on top of the shelf. I can say that I'm probably not that crazy, but I definitely want a collection: Julius, Augustus, Caligula, Nero, Hadrian, Marcus Aurelius, Sepitimus Severus, Caracalla, Elgabalus, Valerian, Diocletian, Romulus Augustus, Justinian. And then of course, when I have visitors to my library, I'll see who's up on their stuff. Maybe to throw them off, I'll throw in Suetonius and Catullus and see who's really on their game.

Early Feminsim

Today, I got an email from my employer. She wanted to know if I could stay an extra hour at work. Could I ever!
I realize that this is not the usual response. Most people would drag their heels. I was happy, since I want more hours (and more moolah.) Also, I recently put my employer on my resume, so this is a great way to remind her that I'm reliable. Really.
I work in an art gallery, which is possibly one of the coolest gigs ever. Right now, there's an exhibit showing comics (to which you should all go.) Mostly, because it's so quiet on Fridays, I do homework. Today, I finished that book on William Marshal and started on an essay about the Nationalist movement in Tanzania and feminism. Last week, the curator of the show came by, which does on occasion happen, but usually, they just look around and make sure nothing's burning or turned to a crisp. This guy actually sat there, and I couldn't help but wonder if I was being judged.
This week he wasn't around, and it was a big relief. Because he wasn't around, I felt safe sitting at the table that was covered in comics for us to read so that I could read the first book of the English Sailor Moon.
Sailor Moon was my first anime as a kid. I was about seven when the show aired on television in the mornings before I went to school, and I loved it. Looking back on it, a lot of it is silly and overdone and campy, but it still makes me smile. I have always thought of myself as a feminist, and a show written about girls for girls wasn't something I appreciated in a larger cultural sense (since I hadn't yet noticed how the majority of media is created for white Christian men). Even as a young girl, I liked the idea of young women who were strong and powerful and capable of working together, despite differences.