Sunday Salon: November 29, 2009.

I wish I would have posted this on Sunday, rather than late Monday/early Tuesday morning.

Like many of you, I had a busy weekend with family and food. My stomach still hasn’t recovered from all of the stuffing and turkey. It was good though. My younger sister came home from college and I got to spend some time with her in her new car.

Matt, my brothers, and some close friends drove down to Chicago for his bachelor party. From what I have heard, they had a great time and drank a lot. When he got back Sunday evening, he was tired, so we relaxed a little and watched Lost. I never really watched it, so he is getting me into it for the last season that is airing soon. I have to say that if I had been watching from the beginning, I probably would have been mad to not know the answers to everything.

Anyway, like I said, it was a good weekend.

In reading news, I managed to hit my goals for last week. I finished The Bluest Eye as well as The Stranger (post will be forthcoming). I also managed to start Germinal by Emile Zola (again, post forthcoming) and at the time of writing this, I am well into it. It is a 500+ page book, so it might take me a little while.

The goals for this week are to finish Germinal. I’m not quite sure what I am going to read next, but I think I might read a play or get into a Steinbeck novel. We shall see…

Happy Reading!

Book 11: Finished.

To say I loved The Bluest Eye is probably a gross understatement, but I did. I loved every page. I loved the way the story was pieced together with small snippets about each of the characters, so you could sympathize with each one and understand them in the grander scheme of the novel. I loved the way Morrison strung words together so you could see the pain of Pecola. And Pecola herself, I loved. In her, I saw many of my former students and their struggles. At points, I just wanted to tell her that I understood and that I cared.

The central theme of the story is one about the meaning of beauty. Pecola believes that by having blue eyes, she will be beautiful. Throughout Morrison’s story, the reader sees how the characters view beauty and interpret in their own way. In the end, Pecola finally attains a tragic sense of beauty.

I loved this novel. I loved the discussion on beauty and the way Pecola, who is only 11, comes to terms with being a woman and what beauty means. Characters throughout the novel all see beauty in different ways, but primarily see beauty as the traditional blonde hair, blue eyes. Pecola’s mother sees beauty in the little white girl she takes care of. Pecola sees it in the blue eyes of china dolls.

Since the novel is set in the year before the United States entered World War II (1941), the views on beauty make sense. This is the era before the Civil Rights Movement explodes and Equal Rights. Whites are still predominant in the media and film, so that image of being fair-skinned, blonde-haired, and blue-eyed is still very much a fact.

It is a novel in stark contrast to today’s images of beauty, which I believe are far more diversified. I think it is more acceptable to see women of all shapes, sizes, and colors as beautiful in today’s day and age, in direct relation to the amount of media saturation we all experience with the internet, television, and movies.

I think that is why Morrison’s story of one “ugly” black girl wishing for beauty is so touching. Even now, with more acceptance of differences in regards to beauty, it is still hard to combat the images being presented. Even when I was growing up, I always wished for blonde hair to match my Barbie dolls and the people I saw on screen. And even though I have blue eyes, it never combated my wishes to be skinner, taller, have a bigger butt, whatever image was being presented.

So I feel for Pecola, as I am sure many do, as she is forced to deal with her image and the situations she is placed in. In the end, she is raped, which also causes her to become isolated even more from the people around her.

The result is a novel that packs a punch. Here is a girl who cannot find someone to take her side and in the end is ostracized for what she is and for a situation that happens to her that she cannot control.

This is a novel I highly recommend. It is touching, beautifully written, and leaves you thinking long after you close the back cover.

I cannot wait to read more by Morrison.

Book 11: Favorite Passages.

*I am a little backlogged on posts, so excuse the numerous posts being made today! I was enjoying my holiday yesterday.*

Wow. Toni Morrison is an amazing writer. Why have I never taken the opportunity to read her work before? I think that sometimes I intimidate myself with the thought of what “could be” in a book that I never give it a chance. I found that same to be true for Dostoevsky. I was so intimidated and nervous about the name that I psyched myself out about reading it.

But I suppose that’s part of the reason why I am doing this entire challenge to myself. I should be reading things that intimidate me. I am learning from the authors I am reading and improving in many ways.

Anyway, back to Morrison. I am in awe of her writing ability. She crafts her words so carefully that they make such a powerful impact on the reader. She seems to be a very “in your face” kind of writer. I love it.

I want to share some more of my favorite passages from The Bluest Eye. I hope you like them as much as I do.

“The first twigs are thin, green, and supple. They bend into a complete circle, but will not break. Their delicate, showy hopefulness shooting from forsythia and lilac bushes meant only a change in whipping style. They beat us differently in the spring. Instead of the dull pain of the winter strap, there were these new green switches that lost their sting long after the whipping was over. There was a nervous meanness in these long twigs that made us long for the steady stroke of a strap or the firm but honest slap of a hairbrush,” (97).

“There in the dark her memory was refreshed, and she succumbed to her earlier dreams. Along with the idea of romantic love, she was introduced to another—physical beauty. Probably the most destructive ideas in the history of human thought. Both originated in envy, thrived in insecurity, and ended in disillusion,” (122).

“He thought it was at once the most fantastic and the most logical petition he had ever received. Here was an ugly little girl asking for beauty. A surge of love and understanding swept through him, but it was quickly replaced by anger. Anger that he was powerless to help her. Of all the wishes people had brought him—money, love, revenge—this seemed to him the most poignant and the one most deserving of fulfillment,” (174).

“We were so beautiful when we stood astride her ugliness. Her simplicity decorated us, her guilt sanctified us, her pain made us glow with health, her awkwardness made us think we had a sense of humor. Her inarticulateness made us believe we were eloquent. Her poverty kept us generous. Even her waking dreams we used—to silence our own nightmares,” (205).

Book 11: Toni Morrison's Lessons in Language.

I’m halfway through The Bluest Eye and I love it. It really is a powerful novel and I already have a million things I want to write about, even though I’m not done. I’ll try and save some things for when I do finish.

I seem to be drawn to authors who have the ability to craft the English language beautifully. Even though they use words we all use on a daily basis, they do it in a way to make the words seem extraordinary. I wise I had that ease with words. Sometimes my own sentences fall flat, where theirs can grab you and lift you off the page.

Let me show you what I mean. I might craft a sentence to say the following:

“An old store is on the corner of Broadway and Thirty-fifth street in Lorain, Ohio. Its kind of an obvious store for its ugliness as it seems to leap out at the people who see it. People visiting Lorain stare at its ugliness and wonder why it’s still standing, while residents just ignore it, as they have always done.”

And Toni Morrison seems to describe the scene like so:

“There is an abandoned store on the southeast corner of Broadway and Thirty-fifth street in Lorain, Ohio. It does not recede into the background of leaden sky, nor harmonize with the gray frame houses and black telephone poles around it. Rather, it foists itself on the eye of the passerby in a manner that is both irritating and melancholy. Visitors who drive to this tiny town wonder why it has not been torn down, while pedestrians, who are residents of the neighborhood, simply look away when they pass it,” (33).

Morrison makes that old ugly store seem much more real than I do and she does it in a beautiful way. I love her use of adjectives and the way she paints the picture so you see it. I’m just telling you and not doing a very good job of it.

Here is another example from the next page that I absolutely love;

“Each member of the family in his own cell of consciousness, each making his own patchwork quilt of reality—collecting fragments of experience here, pieces of information there. From the tiny impressions gleaned from one another, they created a sense of belonging and tried to make do with the way they found each other,” (34).

It is just a powerful statement. She speaks to how family members exist on their own until they are called together in such an elegant way.

I wish I could write with such open honesty. When I attempt to write passages to get across similar meanings, my emotion falls flat in my writing. I think I have the habit of telling rather than showing my stories. Perhaps learning more from Morrison can help my own writing.

I have one more passage I want to share:

“These and other inanimate things she saw and experienced. They were real to her. She knew them. They were the codes and touchstones of the world, capable of translation and possession. She owned the crack that made her stumble; she owned the clumps of dandelions whose white heads, last fall, she had blown away; whose yellow heads, this fall, she peered into. And owning them made her part of the world, and the world a part of her,” (47-48).

I just find that so powerful, the idea of making enemies of the things that challenge you, your own. Perhaps I need to do that with Dickens. And a lot of other more serious issues going on in my life. Like my current unemployment. I can own my unemployment. I don’t have to like it, but it is my own and makes me a better and stronger person in the end.

Truly powerful, isn’t it? Making friends of your enemies?

There are many other things I want to talk about—the bluest eye for instance, and the issues of how we view beauty, but I think they can wait a little longer. I’m going to go learn more from Morrison.

Sunday Salon: November 22, 2009.

This has been a slightly crazy week. Coming off from my wedding shower last weekend, I was kept busy with a lot of unpacking and organizing at the apartment. Then I spent a good deal of time cleaning out my closet and my dresser in efforts to ease the final move over in January, after the wedding.

I also kind of hit a low point on Friday. I had a panic attack in front of Matt, which I am sure freaked him out. Stress from being unemployed and having no money kicked in, so I freaked out. After a reality check with Matt and my mom, I know things will be okay. And of course, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. As soon as we’re back from Florida and our honeymoon, I have no more commitments to prevent me from getting a job. I just have to keep telling myself that everything will be okay.

In reading news, I finally finished Great Expectations, which I was starting to think would never happen. I even entertained the idea of quitting my little reading project and going back to reading the science-fiction, fantasy, and YA lit I love and miss. But to only give up after 10 books is pretty weak and I just need to keep my head down and keep going. I know that by reading through this list I am proving a few things to myself in regards to determination. Also, how could I ever expect my future students to keep going if I gave up this early on?

This week has truly been a lesson for me. I think I just needed a little reality check and I am all set to continue.

So, I have finished the first 10 books off the list of classics I made. Which means I am a whole 4% complete with my list! Only 240 more books to go!

This week I am planning on getting through The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison and The Stranger by Albert Camus. I also want to get into Germinal by Emile Zola if I can. It’s doable as long as I set aside the time to read, which I haven’t been doing recently.

I think this is the first year since I started tracking the number and titles of books where I won’t be hitting the magical 100. Last year I barely hit 100, but the year before I was at 108. Realistically, there is no reason why I shouldn’t be there, but it took me entirely way too long to get through Great Expectations. I have 14 books to read before January 1st, and with the holidays, the wedding, and the honeymoon, I think it just won’t happen, but I am going to try.

Here’s to a great week of reading ahead of me.

Book 11: The Bluest Eye.

For book #11, I wanted to read another author who I feel like I should have read sometimes in my English career. Then I noticed that I had quite a few books by Toni Morrison on my list. Somehow, just like Dickens, I got through my bachelor’s in English without reading any of her work.

Amazing.

I know that she is well-respected and her work has won numerous awards. She is also one of the more “modern” writers on my list and after Dickens, well; I need something a little livelier and less ridiculous in regards to length.

So, it is with this in mind that I am choosing The Bluest Eye as Book #11.