Everybody Loves Saturday Night

Let me take you back a few years, as I struggled to write the prospectus for It, a necessary document before the actual writing of It could commence. That doesn't make much sense, does it? To write something about something that hasn't been written yet? That's what I thought, anyway, and I fought it almost every step of the way. I was repeatedly told, "This is just a blueprint for the final project, but nothing you claim here is set in stone." Then what's the point? Just to make stuff up? Well, there was the little matter of the fellowship--the prospectus was key in that. So I trudged through it, putting together sections about how the project came to be, what I'm going to be studying and why, what my primary argument(s) will be, what methods and theories I'll be using, and how the project is situated within the larger field of Victorian literary studies.

Guess what.

It's a freakin' introduction, man.

Sure, it's going to need to be fleshed out a bit--the prospectus was capped at 25 pages, and I'm shooting for 30-35 for the intro--but it's all essentially there. I kept making lists in my head of books I needed to read through, and I think that this was part of what was keeping me from getting back into It fully--not the actual writing part, but the researching part. But, like, I kinda already did a lot of that, I just did it ffrshmrrggphrr years ago.

So today was a lot of cut-and-pasting, and rewriting some parts that no longer apply, and making them fit together a bit better. I also wrote some brand new stuff. The cool thing about starting early (9:30 am) is that after four hours, it's still only 1:30. The rest of my day is free to enjoy. I made a list of what I should do tomorrow and then next day, and authoritatively decided that cleaning my office counts as "active work," because it involves reorganizing all the It materials for this final stage. I also put all the chapters together just to see how long it is. 212 pages. Can you fathom? And I'm not done.

I realized yesterday that in excerpting the bio of Eliza Sharples, I was not starting at the beginning. Now I have a draft of the beginning, so I'm going to backtrack and offer a link to the first five pages, half of which are fresh off the keyboard today. I also realized yesterday that I don't like the way it looks on the Deleted Scenes blog, so I just made a simple web page for it. It's a draft. It's not fully polished, but there are parts of it I'm very happy with. This explains what I'm working with and what I'm doing with it. Click here to read.

I need to tell you how excited I was when I found the quote that begins the introduction. See, the title of It is What Women Wanted (there's a colon in there with a more descriptive subtitle, but that's not important right now). So I'm going through the issues of Shafts and come across this letter, and bam! I knew it would start It.

So yesterday I was still contemplating whether to post more excerpts of It, and I've decided to do it. For one thing, it's going to keep me honest. For another, if I think about writing It as though I were writing a blog entry, it's a lot easier and I don't feel compelled to use crazy-ass jargon that not even I understand. Normally I go over passages and wonder if I'm explaining things adequately, but envisioning an actual audience is a hundred times more effective. As for the differences that exist between blog writing and It-writing, they will still be honored, but in the revision/editing stage. For now, I just need to get the words out.

I did start a new tank the other day--I resurrected the GGH Velour from a failed project and am working on it ChicKami style. It would be cool if I could finish it by the time I'm set to go see Spiderman 2, and given that the rest of my day is now obligation-free, I'm just gonna go work on it.

Since I started this blog, almost a year ago, I've been going back and forth on the idea of providing snippets of It for public consumption. On one hand, it's kind of private writing, but on the other, no it's not. Hard to define the parameters of this debate, actually. I'm not all that personally attached to it, as I would be to ... something else, like the Starbucks essay or that play idea I've been batting around catlike for a year. Besides, it's not like ANYONE ELSE (save committee members who are forced to at least PRETEND to have read it, and maybe my mom) is gonna read it. Since I opened the "Deleted Scenes" blog, I thought I would use it to post some excerpts. You may also choose to interpret this as proof I've been working, similar to the posting of knitting progress.

So, if you'd like to meet Eliza Sharples, editor of The Isis, the first periodical covered in It, click here. I should note that what you will see, after the first paragraph which is included mostly for context, are paragraphs that will most likely NOT appear in the final draft. They've been reworked from an earlier draft and will probably be further revised and condensed for inclusion in the introduction and/or the first chapter. I have not included any of the footnotes (they are plentiful. I LOVE the footnote).

I may do this again as I continue working through not only the introduction, but each chapter--going back and forth is proving to be extremely helpful in figuring out what needs to get done, as well as reminding me that I am, in fact, really really really really close to being done. Besides, now that I've introduced Eliza Sharples, you should see what she was up to. It's quite a kick.

Also of note: The knitting of Charlotte is complete. Will block this weekend, and will post the obligatory Blocking of The Charlotte picture. I am. So excited. Oh, and P.S. thanks for the blocking & crocheting advice. I will be blocking first, crocheting later.

** DRAFT **

To: Em
From: Michelle
Re: It

Your presence participation is requested required for the completion of It in a timely manner as soon as freakin' possible. In order to ensure that this goal is met, I must impose the following non-negotiable rules:

1. You are required to spend four hours a day actively working on It. These hours may be worked consecutively or they may be split up, according to your daily needs. It doesn't matter when you go to bed or when you get up, so long as you put in those four hours.

2. The four-hour rule is suspended in the event that five full pages are completed before the four hours have elapsed. Outlines do not count as pages. Two pages of paragraph fragments count as one page.

3. The four-hour time frame may be shortened to two in the event of illness (unlikely) or hangover (let's face it, rather likely).

4. Due to the potential for repeat invocations of the Hangover Excuse, you are permitted one free day per week, to be used on whatever day is necessary. Use it on Friday? Then you're working Sunday, babe.

5. "Active work" may be anything from re-reading chapters previously written in order to insure continuity and lack of repetition, to actual writing and editing of new material.

6. THE FOLLOWING ACTIVITIES SHALL NOT BE ENJOYED UNTIL YOUR FOUR HOURS ARE COMPLETED: Knitting, blogging, surfing other blogs, and watching TV.

7. "Knitting" encompasses all crafty yarn activities. There will be no crocheting and no seaming, and no random fits of stash organization.

I don't expect you to like these rules very much, but I hope you will come to appreciate them in time you're just going to have to suck it up. The only way to make It go away is to finish it.

You really only have so little left to do. I have faith that if you stick to this daily regiment of four hours or five pages a day, you will get through your final chapter by mid-July.

Which is good, because then you've got a little matter of a syllabus to write.

I am open to suggestions for rewarding your hard work, bearing in mind that you shall remain unpaid for the duration of this project.

There's no way today's Horoscope is not about knitting:

When you go up a set of stairs, only take one step at a time today, dear Aries. Trying to skip up the staircase two at a time will only result in you tripping down to the bottom after you have already made it up half way. In addition, trying to rush things will leave holes in your projects. Finish the job completely by making sure that every step is thoroughly taken care of. Don't skimp on the details.

That's the second time in a row Horoscope has called me "dear Aries." Makes me think something bad's about to happen. The advice I'm given here is irritating because it hits home: I'm often impatient enough to rush through the finishing details of things. Those Opal socks? Couldn't even consider grafting the toes while I was at my brother's poorly lit apartment, so I did a three-needle bind off on the toe. I don't like the way it looks, but then, Note to Self: always wear shoes with these socks. Done. Of course, this means that I should concentrate on finishing something. I started putting the purse together yesterday, but I discovered that somehow, I made one side just that much wider and that much longer than the other. Did I consider redoing the second piece? Are you serious? Not for any amount of time that registers. I did decide that it's going to need lining in order to be functional, and that kinda dampened my spirits as well, but Horoscope says I shouldn't skimp on the details, so lining it will have. I wonder if I've got old clothes lying around that would work. At any rate, I'll have the sewing and i-cord completed by the end of the weekend, most likely.

That is, if I don't start working on It again. My Netflix discs are in transit, so anything can happen.

Today I'm going to Knit NY to meet with Cari and Iris, and I'll be taking Charlotte with me. I want her off the needles so I can use the 6s and the long cable for other things. I won't be able to do any kind of blocking activity for another week or so, but I'm itching to get her done. I searched the Internet yesterday to see if I could find an answer to a blocking question, but came up with more than one answer, so I'm going to put it to you, even though I suspect the answer is: "whatever you choose, dear Aries." I wanted to find out if it would be better to do the crochet trim before or after blocking. My instincts tell me to do it before, but I saw a number of pictures yesterday of Charlottes that were blocked without trim. It makes more sense to me to wash the shawl once everything (except the fringe) is done, but if it's easier to add crochet once blocked, that's something I'd need to know.

Last night I got to the heel-making part of the Mermaid sock, and immediately got confused. The pattern calls for a garter stitch short row (should any of those be hyphenated?) heel, or alternatively, an afterthought heel. I started the first, but something about the way stitches are divided and how to wrap got me mixed up. Then I looked for the afterthought directions, but found those also rather hard to read, but that I'm going to blame on the Amstel. When I'm done here I'm going to look for more afterthought advice. I remember Brainylady had a link to someone.

Why go through this day with any doubts or fears, dear Aries? You have every reason to be happy. The things you project out to the world today will prove to be extremely favorable. Don't hesitate to act and enjoy this day to the fullest. You will find that people will be eager to participate in whatever you have going on. As long as you remain confident about yourself, everyone else will too.

OK, I admit that while these horoscopes are incredibly flattering, for the most part, they're starting to get on my nerves. They remind me of fortunes in fortune cookies that tell you the kind of person you are, when all you want to know is whether you're good in bed, or going to be rich and famous (in bed).

But it's true, I have every reason to be happy. And I have spent the last week or so harboring a number of doubts and fears, so today I will concentrate on letting those go, or at least giving them the day off. And I managed to take some steps yesterday, even, to help me do this. Come to think of it, what I've been noticing is that my horoscope doesn't really cover just one day, but carries over from the day before or into the next day. Venting yesterday about It was a big help, but I didn't work on it at all yesterday (taking that deep breath that Horoscope advised), and it looks like I won't be working on it today, either. Not if I'm going to enjoy the day and think of favorable things to project.

Because I'm a very slow person (ok, I'm not. I get things fairly quickly, normally. This, by the way, makes me an ideal job candidate for just about anything, but sadly "I'm a quick study" has become a meaningless thing to say in job interviews, because everyone says it. I wish I could somehow prove it in those 15 minutes) it only occurred to me last night (let's overlook the fact that I was thinking about what I was going to write today last night) that I could apply these horoscopes to my knitting as well as my writing (another aside: the more I identify myself as a writer, as in "What do you do?" "I'm a writer," the easier it gets. And it feels more right to say "I'm a writer, and I teach" than the other way).

My knitting continues to languish, sort of. I'm exactly FIVE rows away from completing Charlotte, and I'm much more appreciative of the colors now than when I started. Now I just need to face the crochet edging and fringe. I couldn't face working on Audrey when it was so hot (even though I'm on the seaming part), and when it cooled down a bit I wound up bringing Purple Rain (remember? From the fall 2002 VK? This one?) out of hiatus, and after six episodes of Season 3 of Sex & the City (the last season I recall watching, to refresh my memory before plodding through Season 4. I'm all about the Season 4s lately: Sopranos, S&TC, Simpsons...I heart TV and Netflix and Steve the bartender) I was halfway through the fair isle band on sleeve #1 (I've got the front and back pieces in the bag). Not a bad bit of progress there. Last night I started a new pair of socks with Lana Grossa Meilenweit and following the Mermaid Socks pattern in Lucy Neatby's book, and I am very happy with the way it's turning out. See?



More specific to my horoscope, I do have a nearly completed project that I am now prompted to finish: a small purse out of Koigu. All it needs is a bit of blocking, a bit of sewing, and a mess of i-cord, so perhaps if I get cracking on that I could have pictures of it this afternoon. I'm very excited about the purse, because it's my first original design. I mean, aside from the fact that it's a purse and I'm sure countless other people have employed the "make two rectangles and sew them together" technique. But mine has a fun lattice pattern that I think works beautifully with the Koigu, and I can't wait to share it with you. Horoscope says you'll all be really into it, too. So that's what I'm going to do today.

Today's horoscope, taken as always from Earthlink (it's the same on Yahoo, I learned yesterday):

You start your day with a big bang. This isn't the cosmic gesture that created the universe, but it works for you. You're big on noise and flash because that's how you feel. Your aggressive strategy isn't necessarily hostile, but it makes others think twice about getting between you and your target destination. You'll take your foot off the accelerator long enough for someone to get out of the way. Taking a deep breath every so often would be good for your system. You'll have no trouble getting back up to speed again when ready.

This is one of those horoscopes that's clearly meant for someone else, but lemme see what I can do with it. Nope, no, see, from the first sentence there it's all wrong. I did not start my day with a bang. Whatever denotation you choose for that word, my day didn't start with it. Well, unless you count the noise outside my apartment that begins around 6:30/7. I live in a very industrial part of town. Right across the street is some service place for big-ass semis that line up around the block and then just sit there, idling, which is almost as loud as the metal-on-metal servicing noise that comes from within the station, and of course the semis create roadblocks, which leads to interminable honking and the setting off of car alarms.

So we can safely say that I'm not big on noise, either. I'm really not. I dislike loud noises intensely, especially when they're surprising. When I was a kid, I had the habit of putting my fingers in my ears when watching movies if I thought there'd be an ambush involving guns. I catch myself doing this still and feel very, very silly about it. I don't have a problem with thunderstorms anymore, though they will occasionally elicit an "oh!" kind of mini-scream.

Back to the bang. Obviously it's meant metaphorically (I just typed "meataphoric," and I am amused), like something cool will happen to start my day, but...this is how I start my day: in front of the computer with a 20 oz. travel mug of coffee, checking email, reading blogs, writing my entry. I'm waiting for the bang, people. Was it when I accidentally spilled yesterday's coffee grinds on the floor by the trash can, forcing me to commit to mopping the floor at some point today? Cuz that's a really sucky bang. What else ya got? At what point do I declare my day begun, anyway? I'd say post-coffee, in which case, the universe has about five gulps left in which to manifest itself bang-like.

Moving on, I enter some sticky territory (ew). I can interpret the sentences about strategy and people getting out of my way to mean something that is about to happen here, but I wouldn't have internalized it in those terms. If I do take this horoscope as something expressly written for me, then I've got some balancing to do between the way my actions are being described here and the way I perceive them. Aggressive? Me? I don't tend to see going after things I want as particularly aggressive, but maybe it is and I'm the last person to realize it (par for the course). I'm not usually described by others as aggressive. And I have no idea what my "target destination" would be. To say that it's my PhD would contradict what I've got for the other sentences, although...maybe it works. I don't know. I don't necessarily see the completion of my degree as my target destination, though. I see it as yet another hurdle to jump over, and one I'm not keen on doing. This life is not for me. I have no business being in academics, and I'm not saying that because I don't think I'm good enough. No. I'm too good for it. I deserve better than a shit job I have to hold for five years in order to get any kind of job security, playing grown-up nanny/therapist to a bunch of kids who couldn't care less while performing routine committee duties and laboring under impossible publication requirements. I deserve way better than that. And returning to the albatross that's been hanging around my neck for a good two years is like...going back to being sixteen years old. It's just not who I am anymore. I find no joy in it. The only reason I keep plugging away at it is to get it done. And for what? Why am I doing this? What is a PhD going to get me that I can't get without it? Honestly.

Bang.

I had the idea yesterday to follow my horoscope (hot off of Earthlink's start page) for a week, write about it, and see what happens. You know, it's been so nice to me lately (see top right) that I should really give it some props. But today's has me ooked out again:

Your mood is fiercely playful, but you have a feeling that the stakes are high. There's a lot riding on the mischievous inner child who gets a day out on good behavior. You say that your creativity will excuse just about any prank you pull. What's more likely is that your passing interest will look a little too good to somebody who wants a serious commitment. Business or romance begun on this uncertain footing just might blossom into something special. Of course, there's no way to know this at the beginning. Keep the faith.

Fiercely playful mood? Check. Actually, Horoscope is a little behind on this one. I was feeling fiercely playful over the weekend, but now I seem to have settled back into that sort of restless boredom that accompanies procrastination. Plus, Col's out in La Jolla for seven frickin' weeks, and the separation will be brutal. Who am I going to see totally stupid movies just for the AC with? Does anyone else out there understand the fun involved in paying $10.25 to see a dumb movie that you'll laugh at simply because you've escaped the 95-degree heat? I'm not talking Raising Helen here--that's insulting, not dumb. I'm talking Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy. Anyway, my point: fierce playfulness in check due to best friend's absence. Same goes for the "mischievous inner child," who has been plenty active lately and it may just be time to rein her in for a day or two, so that "responsible outer adult" can get the laundry done and some writing time in.

(Anyone in the La Jolla area, however, needs to check out Suitcase when it opens there. See my post here for some idea of what the play is about. It's so good.)

The bit about creativity excusing pranks? That's so me. I do say that. I've said it here. Should I be continuing to do it? That much I'm not clear on.

The last part interests me, though. A passing interest could develop into something good, eh? In either business or romance? Either one, Horoscope, I'm not going to be picky. And I'm just supposed to keep the faith? Trust my instincts? Use the force? Can do. Doesn't make for exciting writing, though.

The sucky thing about my summer sleeping patterns is, when I finally get a little sleep in, I don't get up until after 9, and that throws my whole day into disarray. For some reason, I don't think I can get anything done if I don't start it in the morning. I could sleep all day in January, but as soon as summer hits--as soon as the sun starts rising before 6 and the temperature stays in the 80s, I don't sleep well. I'm up until at least 2, I don't fall asleep well and my dreams are freaky. Let's see, there was the one about the Queer Eye guys sending me emails with suggestions for how to improve my appearance, because I'm so hopeless that they took pity on me and adopted me as their token straight girl, and their advice was good, too, but of course I forgot it when I woke up. And, so, of course, I've been walking around with the nagging feeling that something is incredibly wrong with me.

OK, but to give you something to chomp on and discuss, let's go back to the lists. The Desert Island list is too hard for me, and besides, if I'm on a deserted island, how the hell am I going to watch movies? Battery-operated laptop, I suppose, if it survives the shipwreck, but then the battery will die within two hours anyway, which leaves room for only one movie, and to decide what movie you'd want to be your last (because let's face it, you're never getting off that island) is just too damn hard and ultimately pointless, because if the only movie you had was Cop and 1/2, you'd watch it.

I can't remember if someone else hosted this discussion or not, but what about movies that "everyone" (meaning most of your friends, critics, and the People in Charge of Awards) just raved about, but you absolutely loathed? Mine? The English Patient. HATED that movie. Not because I don't like long movies, and not because I don't like tragic romance movies. I found it incredibly superficial (I won't deny it's a beautifully shot movie with beautiful scenery and beautiful people, it's just all so freakin' pretty) and incredibly pretentious, and unforgivably uncomplicated in that we're being asked to sympathize with and root for a guy who helps the Nazis. This, my friends, is a deal-breaker. I was encouraged to read the book after I saw (and HATED) the movie, and the book is wonderfully and politically complicated (which I understand wouldn't translate well to the movie the producers wanted).

So what are yours? Not movies you thought were just kinda schmeh (like there's all this hype about Movie X and you go and you don't hate it, but you don't get the hype). Movies that make you question your standards because everyone else loved them. And then I want to know why you hated them.

All this list making has been giving me ideas. That combined with summer insomnia means I've been doing a lot of meaningless crap. Like copying the list of IMDb.com's Top 250 Movies and seeing which movies I've seen. I opened a new blog for the list, to save space over here. If you want to play along (although frankly, I can't see why you would, unless you're a) as big a dork as I am or b) are also experiencing summer insomnia), you can see the list here.

That got me thinking about the movies that had a significant effect on me, the ones that had me leaving the theater thinking "If I never see another movie again, I'd be OK." Only two come to mind immediately: Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon and Lost in Translation. This list is definitely different than the "Desert Island" list of movies I could watch over and over and over again and not get bored or crazy.

Also thinking about what my Top Ten list of movies directed by women would look like. I mean, even today I'm sitting here racking my brains for ten movies directed by women at all, let alone good movies. Grrr. OK, let's see what I can do (keeping this list limited to movies I've actually seen. So no, I haven't seen High Art, but it's on my list):

Lovely and Amazing - Nicole Holofcener
Fast Times at Ridgemont High - Amy Heckerling
Lost in Translation - Sofia Coppola
Girlfight - Karyn Kusama * (OK, seriously? If you haven't seen this movie yet, hie thee to thine Netflix queue. In fact, why don't I own this yet?)
Thirteen - Catherine Hardwicke
American Psycho - Mary Herron
Slums of Beverly Hills - Tamara Jenkins
Boys Don't Cry - Kimberly Peirce
The Piano - Jane Campion
Titus - Julie Taymor

I just want to mention that Martha Coolidge directed Real Genius.

I've really got to start writing these faster. The entire morning is gone now.

Oh, but one last thing: Who the hell is writing my daily horoscope? I need to talk to that person. This was yesterday's: " "Today would be a good time to initiate some kind of emotional clearing of issues that have been eating at you for a while. If you approach the people involved in a clear and friendly way, you should be able to clear the air once and for all so you can concentrate on other pressing matters. Don't put it off. Squelching your own personal needs will only lead to resentment. Once you deal with your feelings about an issue, you may be able to act and move the situation forward."

Just...stop SPYING on me, ok? It's getting really fucking creepy. Except before you go, if you could just direct me to the particular issue you have in mind, because there are so many of them that require some kind of confrontation that I'm having a bit of a hard time figuring out which one exactly I'm supposed to deal with. Thanks.

So I watched Moonstruck last night because lately I've been drawn to movies from the 80s, which I think has something to do with my high school reunion, which I know I haven't said much about, but there really isn't that much to say. I got to see two or three people that I was really excited to see, people I'd actually been in contact with post-high school but not for a very long time. Not very many people showed up though, and of the ones who did, nearly all are married with at least two kids. I was expecting that. What I wasn't expecting was for so many of them (and I'm including spouses here) to come across as so OLD. They way they dressed, the way they talked, the way they laughed, it all made me feel really young and immature. And that? Made me really fucking happy. So right now I'm wearing one of my new dresses from Beqi Clothing (this one) and my hair is in pigtails and I look about twelve years old. Twelve years old with a glandular problem. I want to head out to Coney Island and ride the Tilt-a Whirl and eat cotton candy and corn dogs and then ride the Cyclone and puke.

I have not ever (or should I say "yet") ridden the Cyclone. I spent my adolescence terrified of roller coasters (my specific nightmares involved falling out of them, having the cars derail, or having the structure itself collapse), and the only ones I would go on had a water splash payoff. I also didn't much care for the feeling of leaving my internal organs at the top of the roller coaster peak while the rest of me hurtled downward. But I'm a big girl now and I should be able to handle a silly little roller coaster, even if it makes very unsettling creaking noises and looks like it's going to shatter into a million toothpicks at any moment.

By the way, I recommend Beqi. Yes, it took 4 weeks for me to get my clothes, but I love them. They're really comfortable and the fabric is fun, the styles are just too cute for words and the prices are good. Plus, I got some free goodies: a hair clip with a flower on it (which would've been way much cooler had I never seen American Idol, but sadly all it does it remind me of Jasmine Trias) and a kick-ass pendant necklace which just happens to go well with the dress I'm wearing right now. I feel so girly.

For the obligatory knitting content:

It hasn't been all that exciting, and writing about what I've been working on is even less so. But I did finish the Opal Lollipop socks.



I've spent the last couple days getting some work in on The Dissertation (henceforth to be referred to as It) but I'm not happy with It. Maybe it's just that I'm not happy that I'm working on It at all. I've taken a long enough break and I can't get a "real" job until It's finished and I can't go looking for summer work yet because then I really won't work on It at all. But It's just not coming together. I am frustrated.

I think the people upstairs are having sex. I usually only hear them vacuuming. I am confused.

"No Credible Evidence."

The 9/11 Commission found that there were no links between Al-Quaeda and Iraq in the planning of the attacks of 2001:

As for Iraq, the commission's staff said its investigation showed that the government of Mr. Hussein had rebuffed or ignored requests from Qaeda leaders for help in the 1990's, a conclusion that directly contradicts a series of public statements President Bush and Vice President Dick Cheney made before and after last year's invasion of Iraq in justifying the war.

And now the administration is trying to claim that they never suggested there was a connection between Iraq and the attacks, just that they knew of al Quaeda operations in Iraq.

Let's break this down.

In Dude, Where's My Country, Michael Moore lists at least ten different occasions (all of which occured between October 2002 and January 2003) on which Bush claimed Saddam Hussein was connected with al Quaeda. For example: "This is a man who has had contacts with al Quaeda," "This is a man who has got connections with al Quaeda," and "We know he's got ties with al Quaeda." What else does this accomplish besides forging a connection in the minds of United States citizens that there was a direct link between what happened on September 11, 2001 and Saddam Hussein? This is what the administration was counting on, and they got it--if you'll recall, by September 2003, 69% of Americans believed that Hussein had something to do with the terrorist attacks.

So yes, if you're going to argue semantics, I don't think anyone in a position of power said that Iraq was responsible for the attacks. But it seems now that they're trying to make it seem as though we misheard them somehow, when in fact we only heard what they wanted us to hear.

I feel as though I've been forced into the passenger side of a car helmed by someone who spent the evening chugging grain alcohol. And the seatbelts don't work.

He pitches a hell of a game, I'll tell you what. I had originally planned to fly home on the 9th, but before I booked my flight my brother called to say he'd scored tickets to a game against the Mets on the 8th (tickets courtesy of bro's fiancee's workplace) and would I like to go? It's a heckuva deal, you betcha! I wrote yesterday that I hadn't been to a Twins game in seven years, but I really think it's more like ten, or more. I think the last time I was in the Metrodome was for a Vikings game, even. So I changed my plans in order to go to the game. I'm not the biggest baseball fan, and I'm not a huge Metrodome fan (I prefer my baseball outside, thank you very much). The new thing this year is a new kind of artificial turf that my brother calls I Can't Believe it's Not Grass. Still, for the first four days I was in Minneapolis the weather was cold and rainy, so I didn't mind being indoors for this one. And it was so much fun to see the game with my brother, Mr. Baseball. See? Look how much fun we're having:



Our seats were great, right at first base on the lower level of the stadium (but alas, my foul ball catching mojo seems to have left me). The game itself was really exciting--a total pitching game that was tied 1-1 until the bottom of the 9th, when a couple of Mets gaffs and a Jacque Jones possibly breaking out of his slump led to our winning run. Woo hoo! One of the crowd-boosting things they do at the Dome is to show a couple on the Jumbotron framed with pink hearts. It's the KissCam, and the crowd cheers until the couple on the screen kisses. How funny would it have been...you know? We were trying to come up with an effective pantomime that would explain to everyone, "We're from the same womb. Ew!" Now I almost wish that had happened.

So that was my first day. On my last day I went to see Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban at this new shopping center in downtown Minneapolis. Well, it's not really new, but the last time I was in that area the block was all a bunch of pawn and porno shops (hmmm. Pawn your porno?) and now, well, it's almost like what happened with Times Square, minus the Disney factor. Walking down the street from the bus stop I caught a glimpse of First Avenue, which mercifully remains unchanged, at least from the outside. But I wanted to show you this picture, taken from a skyway overlooking Hennepin Ave. towards the bridge to St. Anthony Main (and one of my favorite places that I didn't make it to this time, Nye's Polonaise Room).



The bridge is obscuring a massive Grain Belt beer sign which has been there forever and should be declared a landmark, if it hasn't already. Grain Belt tastes pretty much the way you'd expect a beer called Grain Belt to taste, but that sign is righteous.

Let me tell you how insane the Twin Cities are. The interstate that runs between St. Paul and Minneapolis, I-94, shut down for the weekend, and until Friday afternoon no one knew where it was going to be closed. Where was it closed? Between the two cities. It reminded me of how the L will sometimes simply not run between Brooklyn and Manhattan. They're putting the finishing touches on what will hopefully be the first of many light rail transit routes (end points are downtown Mpls. and the Mall of America), when the bus drivers go on strike--and the governor refuses to negotiate or appoint a mediator. Let me rephrase that: the only form of public transportation that exists in the Twin Cities Metro Area, at least until June 26th and then only in a limited form, is the bus system. When that shuts down, people can't get to work. In the meantime, rush hour now apparently starts at like 2:30 in the afternoon and folks living Uptown have unilaterally decided to ignore red lights. And yet, and yet. Everyone is still so frickin' NICE.

Because I wanna be just like the Strizz (and Maggi and Mindy and anyone else I've missed--J Strizz has the original links). The idea here is to copy the list and put the titles of the books you've read in bold. It's either going to be an impressive display or a little embarrassing. Maybe a little of both. Someone should do this with movies.

OK, but to make this slightly more interesting, and in keeping with my obnoxious and insatiable need to both show off and provide a running commentary on absolutely everything, that's what I'm going to do.

Beowulf [but I know how it ends!]
Achebe, Chinua - Things Fall Apart [I have some vague memory of teaching this book, together with Heart of Darkness. Both were definitely on my PhD Comprehensive Exam reading list]
Agee, James - A Death in the Family
Austen, Jane - Pride and Prejudice [*ahem* I've read them ALL. Including the Juvenalia.]
Baldwin, James - Go Tell It on the Mountain
Beckett, Samuel - Waiting for Godot
Bellow, Saul - The Adventures of Augie March
Brontë, Charlotte - Jane Eyre
Brontë, Emily - Wuthering Heights
Camus, Albert - The Stranger [Michelle Fun Fact: I picked up this book because of The Cure.]
Cather, Willa - Death Comes for the Archbishop
Chaucer, Geoffrey - The Canterbury Tales [I've read parts of it.]
Chekhov, Anton - The Cherry Orchard
Chopin, Kate - The Awakening
Conrad, Joseph - Heart of Darkness
Cooper, James Fenimore - The Last of the Mohicans
Crane, Stephen - The Red Badge of Courage
Dante - Inferno
de Cervantes, Miguel - Don Quixote
Defoe, Daniel - Robinson Crusoe [hate this book.]
Dickens, Charles - A Tale of Two Cities [the first literary character I ever had a crush on, and of course he dies. Thus was I introduced to the "the coolest characters always die" cliche abundant in novels and movies.]
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor - Crime and Punishment
Douglass, Frederick - Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass
Dreiser, Theodore - An American Tragedy
Dumas, Alexandre - The Three Musketeers
Eliot, George - The Mill on the Floss
Ellison, Ralph - Invisible Man
Emerson, Ralph Waldo - Selected Essays [huh? which ones?]
Faulkner, William - As I Lay Dying
Faulkner, William - The Sound and the Fury [I've only read one Faulkner novel, and that was enough for me.]
Fielding, Henry - Tom Jones
Fitzgerald, F. Scott - The Great Gatsby [yep, that one's embarrassing.]
Flaubert, Gustave - Madame Bovary
Ford, Ford Madox - The Good Soldier
Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von - Faust
Golding, William - Lord of the Flies
Hardy, Thomas - Tess of the d'Urbervilles
Hawthorne, Nathaniel - The Scarlet Letter
Heller, Joseph - Catch 22
Hemingway, Ernest - A Farewell to Arms
Homer - The Iliad
Homer - The Odyssey [again, sections of both of these, but not all]
Hugo, Victor - The Hunchback of Notre Dame [but I did read Les Miserables, TWICE, and that's gotta count for something]
Hurston, Zora Neale - Their Eyes Were Watching God [just looking at the title of this one makes me all weepy.]
Huxley, Aldous - Brave New World
Ibsen, Henrik - A Doll's House
James, Henry - The Portrait of a Lady
James, Henry - The Turn of the Screw
Joyce, James - A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
Kafka, Franz - The Metamorphosis [auf Deutsch, no less. But I'd already read it in English by that point.]
Kingston, Maxine Hong - The Woman Warrior
Lee, Harper - To Kill a Mockingbird
Lewis, Sinclair - Babbitt
London, Jack - The Call of the Wild
Mann, Thomas - The Magic Mountain [also auf Deutsch and without the English for reference. I'm such a show off. I don't remember a WORD of this one, but I do remember the agony.]
Marquez, Gabriel García - One Hundred Years of Solitude [sigh]
Melville, Herman - Bartleby the Scrivener
Melville, Herman - Moby Dick [much to my father's dismay. I have actually refused to ever read this book, and I think I have a good reason, but I can't remember what it is. Not liking Melville?]
Miller, Arthur - The Crucible
Morrison, Toni - Beloved
O'Connor, Flannery - A Good Man is Hard to Find [one of the most sublime stories ever written.]
O'Neill, Eugene - Long Day's Journey into Night
Orwell, George - Animal Farm
Pasternak, Boris - Doctor Zhivago
Plath, Sylvia - The Bell Jar
Poe, Edgar Allan - Selected Tales [again--WHICH ONES? Hell, I'm bolding it.]
Proust, Marcel - Swann's Way [nice, thanks for reminding me that I'm still halfway through it. Chump.]
Pynchon, Thomas - The Crying of Lot 49
Remarque, Erich Maria - All Quiet on the Western Front
Rostand, Edmond - Cyrano de Bergerac
Roth, Henry - Call It Sleep [I've always wanted to read this...clearly not enough.]
Salinger, J.D. - The Catcher in the Rye
Shakespeare, William - Hamlet
Shakespeare, William - Macbeth
Shakespeare, William - A Midsummer Night's Dream
Shakespeare, William - Romeo and Juliet
Shaw, George Bernard - Pygmalion
Shelley, Mary - Frankenstein
Silko, Leslie Marmon - Ceremony
Solzhenitsyn, Alexander - One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich
Sophocles - Antigone
Sophocles - Oedipus Rex

[Aw, HELL YEAH! That's a nice block of bold. Thank you, college Shakespeare classes.]

Steinbeck, John - The Grapes of Wrath
Stevenson, Robert Louis - Treasure Island
Stowe, Harriet Beecher - Uncle Tom's Cabin
Swift, Jonathan - Gulliver's Travels
Thackeray, William - Vanity Fair [can't decide if I'm sufficiently excited about the new movie version coming out.]
Thoreau, Henry David - Walden
Tolstoy, Leo - War and Peace [another one I started and haven't finished. That was 13 years ago.]
Turgenev, Ivan - Fathers and Sons [sad: I own this and haven't read it.]
Twain, Mark - The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
Voltaire - Candide
Vonnegut, Kurt Jr. - Slaughterhouse-Five
Walker, Alice - The Color Purple
Wharton, Edith - The House of Mirth [I had this bolded and then realized I've only seen the movie. Oops.]
Welty, Eudora - Collected Stories
Whitman, Walt - Leaves of Grass
Wilde, Oscar - The Picture of Dorian Gray
Williams, Tennessee - The Glass Menagerie
Woolf, Virginia - To the Lighthouse
Wright, Richard - Native Son [I honestly can't remember if I've read this. I know I read Black Boy. Native Son is not on my bookshelf. I'm going to say I haven't read it.]

I count 55 out of 101 books. I just noticed Annie's post about the list and the canon it represents, and how that canon is heavily weighted on the DWG side. True, and it's also overwhelmingly Western. Still, I would argue that Beowulf does deserve to be on that list, as it's a milestone achievement in the history of literature. But has anyone who's done this read that Saul Bellows book? And including several Shakespeare titles seems unfair and only in place to make people feel slightly better about the number of books on the list that they've read (I know I got pumped). Where did the list come from, anyway? It's not the Random House list from a few years ago because that was just American novels. If I were to come up with a list of movies, I'd go with AFI's Top 100, simply because I know where it is. But that's all American movies, so some real fantastic films wouldn't be on the list.

And speaking of novels, for those reading Middlemarch and wanting some forum to talk about it, should we start up a group blog? Let me know, via comments or email.

Longer post to follow, but I couldn't just read everyone's comments and let it go until tomorrow when I'll be in much better shape to write about my trip.

You?

ROCK.

How funny is it that the same thing that holds me (and others, judging from your comments) back from writing what's on my mind is kinda the same thing that keeps people from commenting? Myself included--I recognized myself in maryse and Carrie's comments about not having anything witty to say, and then Ingrid's comment about typing whatever "dumb-ass stuff" comes out just put it all into perspective. First, it's not dumb-ass stuff, and second...well, it just rocks. Coming home and going online for the first time since last Tuesday (yeah, I spent an entire week without the Internet. I can hardly believe it myself. And the world didn't end!) and reading all this, in addition to some wonderful email responses...it just makes me so happy and--get ready--content.

So, Minneapolis was fabulous. Highlights: going to my first Twins game in seven years (we won!), buying new bras (that was an interesting reality to face), reuniting with a dear friend from high school (yes--the reunion wasn't nearly as painful as I'd feared), getting asked to stand up at my brother's wedding, going to a St. Paul Saints game (independent league baseball), coming up with the idea for hovercraft coffins, introducing Freaks & Geeks to my brother's fiancee...and yes: the latest item on the menu at Midway Stadium (home of the Saints) is, indeed, Deep Fried Corn. My arteries harden just reading it. Wasn't foolhardy enough to actually try it, though.

I'm trying a different commenting service. I'm assuming that the increase of people using Tagboard is because they couldn't access the comments, and I can't access them either. I may just dispense with the comment feature all together, at least until I make the big blog move (pending...dissertation comes first). I've been blogging for almost a year now, and there are a few changes of content and structure I would like to make, and I don't think Blogger is going to serve me well in that area. I tinkered with the site yesterday because I just couldn't take the yellow anymore, and I really hated the three-column thing--it looked so cluttered and junky. Good thing I didn't get rid of the Tagboard, though it might go with the comments.

[Newer update]: Well, that didn't solve anything--can't access the new comments either. Disabled pop-up blockers and still nothing. I don't get it. But it'll have to wait until I get back, unless it corrects itself.

It's just that I've found myself in the position that I know some other bloggers find themselves in from time to time: you start the blog because you need some sort of outlet for writing or creativity or, in the case of knitters, some way to keep track of your projects and share them with a community that gets it. Or, as with a select few, both. Most of us start writing for ourselves, either as a more public version of Morning Pages or as a way to record those random unattached thoughts that need a place to go.

[oh, sidebar: Sometimes I have a really hard time staying focused on conversations, even when I'm the one talking. I'll have a thought, and as soon as I open my mouth, it's gone. So I asked Colleen once, "Where do thoughts go when you lose them?" And she said, "They go where the socks you lose in the dryer go." So at least my thoughts will have something to wear.]

Then, at some point, you come to an understanding of what public writing is like. It's, like, public. People respond. They often respond favorably. The response is, at times, wholly overwhelming and exceedingly gratifying. As someone who had always wanted to please people and be showered with positive feedback and never quite grew out of the whole "everyone must like me" attitude, the commenting features become a sort of lifeline.

This, in turn, makes the blog site itself a sort of obsession. You check it at least once an hour, to see if there are any new comments. When there aren't, you immediately go to the stats page to check your traffic and referrals. Then you wonder why people aren't leaving comments. The reasonable part of your brain reminds you that you often have just enough time to check in with the blogs you read and don't always leave comments, either. The obsessive part of your brain, however, starts thinking of ways to attract the attention you want.

So you start writing for the comments. Just a little bit at first. Maybe you post a really good picture, or an insufferably cute picture, or a picture of your boobs in a sexy little strappy tank from the latest Vogue Knitting. You start to write posts and then delete them because you don't think they're blogworthy. You try to be as witty and charming as possible. You start to write posts in which you rant and whine and complain about whatever but then you delete them as well, because you don't want to generate those kind of comments. Positive thinking, or at the most light self-deprecation, at all times. The only controversial topic you broach is the insufferability of the current administration, and on that you will not budge, and anyone who leaves offensive comments--ones clearly not intended to create intelligent debate--will be deleted and/or banned. This has, in fact, only happened once. Which causes you to wonder, briefly, "What am I doing wrong?"

You set new parameters for yourself, taking a break from blogging over weekends and not feeling compelled to post every single day...but that doesn't work. You get cable modem access which makes it easier to check up on things even more, which makes it that much more sad when there are no more comments to read. You start to stop leaving comments yourself, because you know people are reading your site, so you figure, "When in Rome." That this is somewhat irrational and petty knocks against your consciousness, but you're busy and have no time to dwell.

You've always been one of those people who finds it difficult to be content. You've also been one of those people who second guess everything and hestitate on the most ridiculous things ("What should I call my blog?"). That you're even writing this with the intention of posting it is something, because you're this close from deleting it all and simply writing, "Thanks for the feedback on the new look, I'm off to Minnesota, back in a week." For the record, you're not stressed so much as ... blog-weary. There are times you wish no one you know knew you had this site. There are dark thoughts, violent thoughts, NC-17 thoughts that occur to you, snippets of fiction or dialogue you want to write out, but you feel somewhat constrained by the format, rings, and, no offense, readers. Yes, this is entirely of your own making. Which means it's entirely up to you to get over it and/or take this baby in a new direction.

I love the people who read this, I truly do. Finding a network of people I can call friends even if we've never met has been unspeakably wonderful. Writing for an audience has been, as I've said before, immensely gratifying. You don't even care how many adverbs I use, do you? Or maybe you do and are too danged nice to say so.

It's good that I'm taking a week's vacation. ["Vacation from what?" -- oh, shut up.] I can recognize a slump when I see one, and man, have I EVER been in a slump. Not so much with the blog, but with the other writing I've been doing (and it's not just the dissertation, but I can't tell you more than that. It's not really my secret to share. It's going to be really, really cool, though. Awesomely cool). I need to get away from the computer and email and Blogger. Regain a sense of balance. Remember why I'm doing this in the first place. Figure out what I want to do next. As a gesture of good will or whatever, I'm not even going to edit this before I post it (I normally do. I normally go over every sentence to make sure it's what I really want to say. Not today. Today is unfiltered. Just to see what that feels like. I need to frickin' relax).

So, I'm off to Minneapolis tomorrow, and I'll be back next Tuesday. Have a fantastic week.

(after a fashion. See previous post.)

1. "You're the one, without a doubt, with no questions asked."

"Doubt" implies questions were asked, doesn't it? So that's a bit redundant. Not the most promising of beginnings, upon second reading. Still, I see no reason not to include this line on my resume.

2. "You're bright as the sun."

Brighter, when the sun shines directly on me. I'm so white I could send planes off course.

3. "You're louder than thunder."

And I didn't even have beans for dinner. ::rimshot::

4. "Anybody this eager to attract attention is going to be at the center of the world before long."

If I recall ninth grade Earth Science correctly, the center of the world is a scorching hot lump of matter surrounded by a fluid magnetic field. I don't think I'm that eager to attract attention, thanks.

Or "center of the world" could mean New York, in which case, way to be on the ball there, Horoscope People.

Or...it could be Wayne Wang's Center of the World, which is not about New York but about sex and the dot-com boom (or something--I haven't seen it, but I know that there's a saucy scene involving a lollipop that the owner of the Esquire Theater in Cincinnati decided was too much for moviegoers, so he took it upon himself to edit it out). I'm all for a second dot-com boom. And for sex.

5. "Make your statement. Send your signal."

It would be easy to claim these two sentences are redundant and, in fact, I believe they are meant to be, as repetition can often be a useful rhetorical strategy. However, while the messages would appear to be the same, these two sentences are composed of words that mean different things. "Make," for example, means to build, to compose, to create, without necessitating the unveiling of the thing made for public consumption or edification. (This is particularly true of the perhaps regional or slang definition of "make" as "to go potty." Or maybe that's just in reference to dogs.) "Send," on the other hand, means to dispatch, to convey, with the direct result of the thing being sent thereby being known by others. So, too, do "statement" and "signal" convey slightly different ideas, "statement" being that which is written or spoken, while "signal"--while also being a means of communication--most often refers to something visual, as opposed to verbal, something like colored lights indicating when to stop or go, or semaphores demonstrating Wuthering Heights. Of course, the root of "signal" is "sign," and all words are signs, so that in this case "statement" and "signal" mean the same thing; in other words, I am entreated to do something that prompts some kind of action. Okey doke.

6. "Be ready for results."

Clearly, these results would be in response to my statement and/or signal. Thus, the statement "Pie for everyone" would yield just that.

7. "With all the energy that you're putting out, you'll find the right people to match your mood."

Yes, but will they match my salary requirements?

8. "Don't hesitate to try something a little different this time."

Done.

9. "With all this cosmic firepower and community support, you can't fail."

"Cosmic firepower." That's a nice bit, isn't it?

10. "Even your mistakes are trendsetting events."

Did you catch that? This is celestial carte blanche. Karmic proof that whatever I say, do, or wear is unconditionally right, even if it's not. I have it in writing.

11. "Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery."

This last sentence is pretty anti-climactic, given what it follows, and I surmise that it's in place to remind me not to get all bent out of shape or overreact when I catch wind of people trying to be like me. Such, after all, is the price of fame. Fame that, come to think of it, I don't have, not to such a degree that I'd actually have wannabes. Maybe I do have wannabes and don't know it, because they're being secretive about it, which come to think of it is totally something I'd do.

My horoscope for today. You know, I think this should be my horoscope for life. No more of that "You need to deal with your obligations" or "Now is the time for reflection and contemplation." None of that "It will be wise to think before acting" or "Dude, tone it down a notch."

You're the one, without a doubt, with no questions asked. You're bright as the sun. You're louder than thunder. Anybody this eager to attract attention is going to be at the center of the world before long. Make your statement. Send your signal. Be ready for results. With all the energy that you're putting out, you'll find the right people to match your mood. Don't hesitate to try something a little different this time. With all this cosmic firepower and community support, you can't fail. Even your mistakes are trendsetting events. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

Consider yourselves notified.

Gotta buncha links for ya (in addition to the rather mind-blowing ones that BuzzFlash provides):

Shocking News: Beatles Lyrics Contain Drug References. [from today's NY Daily News.]

New Jersey Says No More Ladies' Nights--thus creating a feeling quite unright. [also from today's NY Daily News.]

And a couple passed along by the often imitated, never duplicated, inestimable Colleen (Col gives good linkage):

Rumsfeld Fighting Technique [from POE-news]

Jon Stewart's Commencement Address to William & Mary.

The commencement speaker at my college graduation was utterly lame. I think it was someone who taught at the university. (Hmmm, I can hear my mom now: "How would you remember? You were too busy chugging the champagne you smuggled in!")

And I got some pitchas for ya, too. No sooner had I started writing this morning than the Priority Mail guy dropped off a box for me, and guess what was inside?

(Oh gee, Michelle, we have no freakin' clue. It wouldn't be YARN, would it? How predictable.)

Fine. I don't have to show you.

(We're sorry. We love you. We really want to see the yarn. Please?)

I don't know. I'm not really feelin' the love right now.

(You know, we'll talk about this pathetic need for attention and adoration later. Just show us the goods.)

Yeah, well, maybe later. First I'm going to show you Audrey's first sleeve:



And as a bonus, if you click on the picture you'll get a close up of the cap shaping. The front and back pieces are shaped the same way, and I just think it's incredibly elegant looking. Hopefully the redness of the yarn doesn't get in the way of the details too much.

(Waaaaaaaaait a minute. Your stalling has provided us the time to recall something you wrote months ago about not buying yarn until you had three projects completed.)

Ummm. Well, I did finish two.

(And yet, you keep buying yarn. There was that Seaport Yarn splurge last month. Not to mention the purchases made when Rachael and Bethany were in town. Then you flew some Calmer in under the radar. When will it end?)

You're not trying to make me feel GUILTY, are you?

(umm.)

Because I don't.

(But you said.)

Yeah, yeah, I say a lot of things. You should know by now that I have absolutely no--and I do mean zippo--will power.

(You mean you're weak.)

I'm not weak. It's kinda more fun this way.

(So what you're saying is you have the will to have no will power.)

Precisely. Now, you wanna see this yarn or not?

(Yes, please.)

I thought so. And by now, you've probably guessed from whence it came, but if not, that tissue paper should be a dead giveaway.



The darker stuff is Silky Wool in Lava (which makes no sense to my ethnocentric mind, because lava is RED, not purple, but before you say anything, I'm going to guess that "Lava" means something purple in whatever Scandinavian language it's in), to be used with one of the patterns in the Viking Collection you see next to it. The lighter stuff is...more Calmer. In Chiffon. I just needed more. You understand. Propped up behind the box is Poetry in Stitches, an order that surprised Rob, but I knew I wanted it after sneaking a peek at Cari's. It's just so pretty.

The funny thing is that I've been so occupied with wondering at how much pink yarn I've been buying (not overly occupied, not like it consumes every waking moment, but you know what I mean) that I've completely overlooked how much purple yarn I have. Check THIS out, man!


Cat foot for scale

Left to right, then...

Top row: Colinette Tagliatelli, Diakeito Diajuliano, Silky Wool
Middle row: Calmer, the three skeins of Morehouse Merino I picked up in my yarn swap with Anjeanette, Plassard Coton-Lin (oh yeah, did I mention I picked up more of that, too?)
Mezzanine: Koigu PPPM
Bottom: Brown Sheep Cotton Fleece, Debbie Bliss Cotton Cashmere

I think this all has something to do with Prince touring again.

Good grief. I need to make this brief so I can race the weather to the laundromat. It happens to be partly sunny now, but it could turn any minute now, like it has been for the last couple days. The tyranny of weather. Nothing but damp and chills. I swear I'm contracting TB.

I met up with Anjeanette on Monday for a discreet yarn swap in the terminal at Grand Central. She is now the proud owner of that cone of green yarn I wanted to unload, and I am now the proud owner of a few skeins of Morehouse Merino in luscious berry colors. She is a delightful person with excellent taste, and she knows how to knit with beads.

At the time, I was full of praise for Karen Fowler's Jane Austen Book Club and, now that I've finished it I'm full of even more praise. I admit, while it was eminently readable, there was a voice at the back of my mind sneeringly skeptical of the concept and the ways in which Austen's plots were mirrored in the lives of the women who met for the club. For example, the first book is Emma and the group meets at the house of the interfering matchmaker. I also didn't feel particularly connected to any of the characters, which bothered me until I talked to my mom and, in the process of explaining the book, realized that I never felt particularly connected to any of Austen's characters either. I mean, they amuse and/or delight me and I like them and wish them well, but I don't identify or especially sympathize with them (as I did with Dorothea Brooke when I first read Middlemarch). So I returned to JABC with a weight off my shoulders and a renewed appreciation--I don't have to identify with anyone; they exist in the book to amuse and delight me. And they do--especially Bernadette. And poor Grigg, who never entirely lives down his preference for science fiction. And by the time I got to the chapter in which they discuss Pride and Prejudice and the whole chapter is about first impressions (the original title of P&P was First Impressions), I was hooked enough to not only silence the sneerer, but chuckle at the intertextuality that I thought would only be apparent to those who "know" Austen. In fact, I was going to write that while readers who are mostly unfamiliar with Austen's novels would still enjoy the book, only the English majors who have read everything would really "get" the book (much in the same way you don't really need to read Mrs. Dalloway in order to get The Hours, but you...kinda sorta do), but Fowler includes a lovely little glossary of the novels at the back. She also includes a compendium of quotes from reviews and criticism, dating all the way back to 1812.

And Karen Fowler is FUNNY. Honestly, the book is worth the hardcover price for the P&P chapter alone, which has the group attend a charity function, where they're seated together with a pompous murder mystery novelist who disdains Austen because "he likes a good plot." Austen fanatics, in case you don't know, are a particularly brutal group of people. The payoff of this chapter had me laughing out loud. On the subway, no less.