Love Stories

I am no good at writing love stories.

In nearly all my love stories, at least one half of the couple ends up dead or turned into a monster.

It's not that I don't like happy endings. Actually, it is. I hate happy endings. At best I want my endings to be bittersweet. Happy endings make me want to puke a little. I don't know why. I can't stand romantic comedy films either; I've never ever seen a single one I liked. I guess I was absent the day God handed out girly genes or something. Although I am happily married, I don't like to see other people happy.

I like love stories though, as long as they end tragically. Even better, I like stories about people who are in love but can't be together for whatever reason. When the torment is palpable, I'm in Heaven.

Take my favorite TV show, The X-Files. For 8 years Mulder and Scully solved mysteries and chased aliens and gazed at each other longingly, and everyone loved it. Then they hooked up, even though they didn't tell the audience about it right away, and the show went down the toilet. I didn't even watch the final season, it was so bad (I admit I dragged my husband to see the movie that came out a few years back. It was awful, except for AD Skinner, who showed up near the end and did something sort of badass that I can't entirely remember).

I've already mentioned a couple of my favorite love stories in my "A Few of My Favorite Things" posts: The Persian Boy (dead) and Shogun (also dead). I'll also add Kazuo Ishiguro's novel The Remains of the Day (and the excellent movie adaptation). It's of the 'tormented, unadmitted love' variety, and is an elegant, heartwrenching read.

I'm not exactly a Jack/Sam fangirl (Stargate SG-1), simply because I haven't watched the series religiously, but I always liked their understated relationship. I especially loved when the writers included an episode where Sam realizes, with no doubt, that nothing can ever happen between them; then, in the very next episode, Sam is hurt and Jack puts his arm around her. So not only did the writers crush the fangirls'/boys' hopes, they then taunted them about it.

Then there's Ghost in the Shell. It's one of my favorite anime franchises, and both the movies and television series give a nod to the unspoken affection between the kickass female main character and her almost-as-kickass right hand man. But they also make it clear it's never going to happen, which lends just enough anguish to make me happy.

Speaking of anime, I lied about hating happy endings. The manga and anime of Emma: A Victorian Romance, is happy. SHUT UP I'M STILL A GIRL. Even if I hate rom-coms.

Tonight the husband and I will do what we always do for Valentine's Day: sit on the couch, eat junk food, and watch the goriest, most violent movie we can find on Netflix. Happy Valentine's Day.

Famous Book Game!

I'm not actually even sure what Pinterest is, but one of my Facebook friends put this picture up on my wall. It's pretty neat; see how many of these books you can guess!

http://pinterest.com/pin/67554063130415349/

The ones I can't figure out are: the dinosaur/dragon with the little car in the top row, and the goody pink one with a crown between Watchmen and The Wizard of Oz. If anyone knows what they are, drop me a clue please!

A Few of My Favorite Things Part III

Gateway – Frederik Pohl

Frederik Pohl is a grand old master of science fiction; he written hundreds of novels and stories, and edited hundreds more. At age 90-something, he keeps a blog, thewaythefutureblogs.com, filled with his canny views on modern society, pictures from his cruise vacations, and wonderful stories about the old days with all the other great Golden, Silver and New Wave writers he knew and worked with.

Gateway is a perfect example of Pohl's signature style; imaginative, far-flung science fiction with realistic human characters at its core. Despite Robinette Broadhead's vast wealth and success, he's a tragic, sorrowful figure, and Pohl really makes you feel for him. His style is simple and easy to read, but Pohl can turn a phrase when he wants too, and his trademark humor and courage- he shies away from no subject- is brilliantly evident in Gateway.

Note: Gateway is the first novel in Pohl's most famous series, The Heechee Saga. So be warned, if you read it you will most likely find yourself sucked in for the long haul.

The Suicide Club – Robert Louis Stevenson

As much as I love Stevenson's swashbuckling adventures in the lowlands and on the high seas, The Suicide Club (a collection of stories) remains my favorite of his works. Stevenson brings his observant eye and sharp wit to early 20th-century society, tackling a topic that's still relevant today: people run down by the routine, who long for something different but can't make it happen, but who don't have the means or courage to make a change. The Suicide Club brings together men who want to die but are too cowardly to do it themselves, so they draw lots to kill each other, sometimes in original or ineffective ways.

Note: Yes, that's a camera flash on the cover. It's an incredibly shiny cover, despite being a Dover Thrift Edition.

A Few of My Favorite Things Part II

Shogun (James Clavell)

Yeah, that’s right, my copy of Shogun is so elite it doesn’t even need a cover. I actually bought it that way from a library sale on the ‘$2 per bag’ day. It took me six weeks to read this monster (in my defense, I was moving house and had a 1-year-old at the time) but it was worth every minute.

This sprawling novel of pre-Tokugawa Shogunate Japan is packed with tons of fascinating detail about a world that probably as alien to modern Western readers as it is to Blackthorne, the book’s main character. He’s an English pilot whose ship wrecks on the coast of Japan, and it takes him a very long time to get used to taking a bath every day, rather than twice a year.

Note: There’s a 1980’s miniseries starring Richard Chamberlain that follows the book very closely, so if you like the book and have ten spare hours, check it out. I know see why every woman I know who is my mom’s age is hot on Richard Chamberlain.

The Devil of Nanking (Mo Hayder)

Mo Hayder is one fucked-up bitch, and I mean that in the most affectionate and admiring way possible. The Devil of Nanking is one of those books that makes you wonder what the hell is going on in the author’s head, but in the end you don’t really care because it’s awesome.

Grey is an English girl who heads to Tokyo in search of a notorious, vanished war criminal whose actions during the Rape of Nanking were recorded. Why exactly she’s looking for this guy isn’t revealed until the end… and trust me, it’s not what you expected. The various bizarreness that occurs during her quest is equal parts sick and funny.

Note: I’ve read almost all of Hayder’s other books since then, and none of them are as good as this one. And yes, that is an advance reader’s copy. I work at a bookstore.

A Tale of Two Cities (Charles Dickens)

Here’s the thing about Dickens: he’s so blatantly manipulating your emotions that it’s almost ridiculous, but you still cry when Jo dies in Bleak House or when Sydney Carton loses his head to La Guillotine.

I like A Tale of Two Cities because it’s dark and violent. I like Madame DeFarge and her ladies sitting in the front row, knitting and counting heads. I like people languishing in piles of straw in their cells in the Bastille, rapists and murderers getting what they deserve, and people getting their heads chopped off in what was supposed to be a humane execution.

I originally read a stage version of this novel back in about 6^th grade or something, and then we saw the play at the local children’s theater. I like the book better.

Note: There have been four musical versions of A Tale of Two Cities. No, I am not kidding and no, I haven’t seen any of them.

In the Heart of the Sea (Nathaniel Philbrick)

I primarily read fiction, but here’s some nonfic for you. I love books about explorers who die horribly at the hands of might Nature, people who get shipwrecked and have to eat each other to stay alive, and stories about whalers. Which is weird, because I like whales.

In the Heart of the Sea is the story of the whaling ship Essex, which sank when a pissed-off whale rammed the ship and broke open the hull. The sailors had to cram into lifeboats and defy death all the way home (spoiler: some of them don’t defy it too well- especially once they run out of food and start eating each other).

There’s some incredible writing in this book; Philbrick’s description of dying of thirst (taken from the record of a man who nearly did) makes you run to the kitchen for some Gatorade. And he brings the historical figures so close that you really feel their conflicting emotions as they try to stay alive in the face of overwhelming odds.

Note: My copy is signed. And Nathaniel Philbrick is a very nice man, so there.

A Few of My Favorite Things

Here are a few of my favorite things...(there's a bunch; picking a favorite book is like picking a favorite Meatloaf song. There's so many good ones...) I’ll put them up in batches of 4, so as not to overwhelm anyone. There are pictures of my personal copies of these titles at the top, up against a variety of attractive backgrounds such as my kitchen table, my son's alphabet mat and the carpet in the basement. The pics are at the beginning of the post because I fail at figuring out how to intersperse pictures with texts on Blogger.

The Persian Boy (Mary Renault)

I am pretty certain that if everyone in the world read this book, there would be no more homophobia. It's about two men: Alexander, conqueror of the world, the Great King, who wants to be loved by everyone; and Bagoas, former slave of the Persian king Darius, now Alexander's servant and consort, who wants only to be loved by one man.

The Persian Boy has been accused of glorifying Alexander the Great, whose ambition might have bordered on psychopathy, but it's excusable because the novel is written in first person, from Bagoas' point of view, after Alexander's death. It's an elegant, painful book that won't leave your brain for a long time after you finish it. The wealth of detail in Renault's imagined ancient world is fascinating.

Note: technically The Persian Boy is the second in Renault's trilogy The Alexandriad, but the three books – Fire From Heaven, The Persian Boy, and Funeral Games- can be read in any order. Fire From Heaven was shortlisted for the 'lost' 1970 Man Booker Prize in 2008, but while all three books are worth your time, The Persian Boy is my favorite.

The Last Unicorn (Peter S. Beagle)

Like a lot of people my age, I was introduced to Beagle's delicate fantasy through the 1982 film version by Ralph Bakshi (to this day it remains my favorite movie ever made in the history of...ever). The premise is deceptively simple: the last known unicorn searches the world for others of her kind, and finds they may be imprisoned by a bitter old king. Yet The Last Unicorn is a deeply affecting tale of love and regret, carried through with gentle humor and simple, graceful prose.

Note: I met Beagle a few years ago at Dragoncon, and he signed my battered copy of his most famous book. He said his wife's name is also Patricia. Rock! Also, the Bakshi movie is being re-released into theaters in 2012-2013, so I am definitely keeping an eagle eye out.

Note II: An awesome and wonderful friend sent me a beautiful graphic novel version of this book today. It looks like it follows the novel even closer than the movie and the art is gorgeous, I can't wait to read it!

The Count of Monte Cristo (Alexandre Dumas)

I love Dumas. I have this image of him as this jolly, vulgar, goofy uncle sort of man who tells wonderful stories. And his stories are wonderful: sword fights, justice, loyalty, camaraderie, romance, intrigue- there's a little of everything in his swashbuckling tales. And none is better than The Count of Monte Cristo.

The various film versions I've seen of this novel never do it justice: invariably, Dantes exacts his revenge on the men who had him falsely imprisoned with violence, plain and simple. In Dumas' tale, Dantes is far more cunning than that; he knows these men, as they were once good friends, and he uses this knowledge of their flaws and weaknesses to encourage them subtly to destroy themselves. It's a brilliantly labyrinthine novel that keeps you on the edge of your seat and, improbably, ends happily for almost everyone involved- the ones who matter, anyway.

It took me 3 weeks to read The Count of Monte Cristo, and it was worth every minute. And I was even moving then.

Note: There's apparently a French miniseries with Gerard Depardieu that's really good, but I'm too lazy to look it up. Someone get on that for me, please.

The Word for World is Forest (Ursula K. LeGuin)

While I love Earthsea more than life itself (if our son had been a daughter, I was going to fight tooth and nail to name her Tenar), this little gem doesn't get nearly enough love (and since it is currently out of print for the foreseeable future, it probably won't get much love anytime soon). The real-life parallels are obvious- humans colonize a planet and force the inhabitants, who they think are inferior beasts, to work for them- but instead of beating you over the head with the metaphor, LeGuin crafts a tale of rebellion in which you're rooting against your own species.

It's a short little book written in LeGuin's early, spare style. It's a quick, compelling read and if you ever find a copy somewhere, buy it and read it! I command you!

Note: LeGuin is the goddess at whose altar I worship.

Black Beauty (Anna Sewell)

Just one look at my poor, battered, beloved copy of Black Beauty should tell you exactly how I feel about it. I was one of those horse girls (still am, I worked on a thoroughbred farm in college) so Black Beauty was pretty much required reading for me. It's a book that yanks at your heartstrings almost constantly. It would almost be ridiculous except for the fact that there is nothing calculated about it, nothing manipulative; you can practically see Anna Sewell weeping as she wrote it, outraged at the sorry plight of animals in Victorian England.

I told my husband that we have to read Black beauty to our son when he is old enough, but he has to read the chapter where Ginger dies because I'd be crying too hard.

Note: Anna Sewell was an invalid who had to take carriages everywhere because she wasn't strong enough to walk. Because of this she was exposed to horses more than most young ladies of the time and saw how they were treated firsthand. She died five months after Black Beauty, her only novel, was published.