Posts (page 2)
The Secret History of the Pink Carnation
or "I'm sorry, Liz"
Aside from the fact that I figured out who the Pink Carnation was by the end of the prologue, which was not actually revealed until a healthy two-thirds of the way through the book at the end of chapter 28 (and you're expected to share her surprise?), this book is utter rubbish. If it weren't for the sex scenes that give it a bit more than a PG-13 rating (in my opinion), I would have thought it's target audience was pre or early teenage girls. This watered down bodice-ripper (literally at points... ugh!) quickly destroys any mistaken impression that it is either a mystery or a historic novel. It is a romance, plain and simple, heavy handed and blandly written at that. How many times can you say "his green eyes darkened with emotion". *BLEH* I'm puking!
Summary: Silly teenage girl traipses off to post-revolution France in hopes of joining heroic Purple Gentian to exact her revenge on the people who guillitined her parents, and assumably, in her mind, to simultaneously have the Gentian fall in love with her.
Such a plot truly is appropriate for an early teen. Accordingly, her regular references to works of ancient literature are commendable for the first three chapters, but become tiring when they fail to achieve anything more than the appearance of "cleverness" to someone in a high-school-level English class.
Beyond the specific greviances as I have listed above, this entire genere of "novel" is so utterly repulsive to me I cannot refrain from defaming them. To place such a book in any female's hand is to encourage romantic flights of fancy, daydreaming of the dangerous sort, and general silliness. To give such a book to any girl under 20 is like giving them stupid pills in their Vente Latte: this book is filled with lies.
Lie number one: even if you're silly and ignorant and a lousy spy, things will work out for you, so charge ahead. Indeed, you can be the "heroine of a silly horrid novel running pell-mell into disaster" (pg. 364).
After all, three such inexperienced women are quite smart enough to identify, within a week or two of entering French society, the number one most wanted by all English spy. Boy, would the French commander of police like to befriend those clever women! But oh no, their on the spy's side, and so their not telling; clever, clever women.
Lie two: if no one is watching, it's not improper and doesn't affect your reputation a bit.
I personally say, things done in secret with a young man, that would never be done in front of friends, generally should not be done. I'm not talking about the evening kiss while saying goodbye. I'm referencing the mind set that, as long as we're both consenting adults, and no one finds out, it's ok to do things that would be highly inappropriate if anyone knew. And with a stranger. Because it feels right.... to a nineteen-year-old girl. Paragon of good judgement, there.
Lie three: Romance really is that marvelous, all the time, and makes you forget everything bad; or sensible. And that completely excuses doing senseless things.
Lie three: A woman can orgasm lying in the bottom of a boat, with a boatman watching, with a thrilling stranger you've kissed twice whose touching you in a way you've never been touched before, just hours after fighting for your life to get away from being raped.
I don't mean to be offensive, but it's in the book and I was appalled. If I weren't so appalled, I'd be amused. Did a man write this? You wish! Has Lauren ever had a boyfriend? (from this type of writing, I would guess not, or at least, not for long)
Lie four: Young men spend that much time agonizing over young women, and in exactly the same way young women agonize over young men, analyzing every slightest action and deriving nuances from everything.
Lie Five: Everyone in post-revolution France behaved regularly like a sixteen-year-old girl. Including Napoleon Bonaparte, who is much more like a streak of Looney Tunes Tazmanian Devil, clad in red velvet, than one of the more infamous conquorors of all history.
I cannot go on, it's too, too painful.
Oh, swear to me women give up this type of silly romance wishing by the time they enter their twenties, swear!
MSN recently ran a little article "how not to cry when you're at work" in their "Career Building" section. Perfectly nice little article.
Now, clearly, this article is for women. I doubt there are many men who struggle with this dilema; or realize this is something every woman has thought about.
My question is why not to cry at work?
I'm not personally the "weepy" type, but life prevails and sometimes I am reduced to tears regardless of location. I also believe that it is healthy to just "let it go" for a few minutes, cry a bit, and feel better. I would even go so far as to say this is part of the female make-up. We cry. It helps.
So why not cry at work? If you are able, step into the bathroom, give yourself five minutes, regroup and be unapologetic. "Excuse me, I just needed a moment to myself, thank you for waiting."
Is it unprofessional? Unacceptable? Weak and therefore bad?
Why?
(I always find it amusing when that's quoted in English)
So we hit up Sonoma last night (I'm fascinated with their tap system) and stumbled across the most marvelous "round, long finísh, full body reds": from bin 42 TRUTH “lindsey’s cuvee” 05- cabernet sauvignon : syrah : petit verdot - california. Very tasty. The quintessential red, in my mind.
We also had a bit of the "hudson valley camembert, new york, creamy, soft, sweet, milky" which was suPERb. The waiter asked if we were into something "a bit funkier" and this was his recommendation; although, I've met funky cheese, and I didn't consider this one. Anyway, we will certainly be popping by Cowgirl Creamery to pick up something along these lines again.
Last week J brought home some Leinenkugel's Honey Weiss Bier, which I absolutely love. He also picked up their Sunset Wheat which neither of us had tasted before. It has a surprising amount of blueberry flavor, but not sweet or "fruity", and we both now love it. We will certainly be adding them to the "favorite brewer" list, and sampling all they have to offer. (I particularly appreciate the food pairings they suggest with each beer on their website; nice!)
Had the Bronte sisters written Pride and Prejudice, this is what it would have looked like. Kiera Knightly (Elizabeth Bennet) may have physically smiled more than her predecessors in that role, but the film itself had a grave undertone that is untrue to the spirit of Austin's original work.
The casting is a diverse and masterful collection of talents, and yet the acting leaves much to be desired. Bingley is dopey-ly-charming as ever, but full young, as are the Bennet girls, giving the over all impression that mariage is the result of a whimsical crush, rather than a balanced combination of reason and affection. The brevity of the film, and the necessity to cut much of the book, only substantiates this feeling. There is too little material to base an "ardent love" on, particularly between Darcy and Elizabeth. Knightly is not up to the task of playing Elizabeth Bennet's sharp wit derived from deep observation and balanced with affection; Darcy looks more like a lost puppy dog than a young but experienced gentleman. Mr and Mrs Bennett are adorable in their own ways, lessening the impact of their "position" on the entire plot. Bingley's sister is too snooty to feel pity for. Even the ever fabulous Dame Judy Dench is not enough to save this film.
As unexciting as the acting was, I believe the director is responsible for this flop. So unfaithful was he to the true tale, he makes his audience fall in love with a story that doesn't exist. I would go so far as to say that someone wholly unexposed to Austin would be disappointed with the book if they fixed their heart on this film. I hope it would be otherwise though.
For starters, the lines are horribly sliced up and re-distributed to different characters and at all the wrong times. But I'm sure the reason behind this alteration stems from the director's desire to cast them in different light than previously seen; too different, I'm afraid, to be faithful to Austin's clear depictions of them.
The most material loss is that you don't see our Elizabeth, or Darcy for that matter, learn any great lesson. She is simply a silly, uneducated girl who makes a simple and willful mistake in judging character; if even is a mistake, by this representation. There is no moral character for young viewers to strive for. No maturity gained through following in the footsteps of Elizabeth's experience. Indeed, she seems fully capable of making that mistake again, and again, and again.
In fact, I would go so far as to say, the director seems to have taken all "sin" out of the story. The mother is excused for her marriage-obsession and impropriety on the grounds that it is prudent underneath. Mary is actually a very sensitive girl, her father truly caring and in tune with his family, and above all, Lydia is just an imaginative little innocent with an addiction to "romance"; without indication of the deep social harm that arose from her sickeningly selfish "elopement", or behavior in general. In the end everything is represented as being harmless, but to my eyes it seems more than that. Or less I ought to say, for it seems like nothing has changed by the end of the film. Indeed, it is all so "watered down", there is little plot left besides guy-meets-girl; which is probably all the director think this story is anyway. Austin is much better than that.
So,
while Austin enthusiasts like myself will automatically embrace
anything with her name on it, this modern version has utterly failed to
capture the hearts of us all, and the famed 6-hour, A&E version
still reigns supreme as undoubtedly the best Pride and Prejudice thus
far produced.
What?! Why?! Who would DO such a thing?!?!
We went to the Hotel Washington Sky Terrace Restaurant this weekend. Having tried to go once before it was open, and another time, but they had a private party so the remaining tables had a 45 min wait, I was very excited to be there. This time we had a merry party of six out-of-town friends, the weather was magnificent, and the view everything advertised.
The experience, however, left something to be desired.
Our waitress tried to take our full order within five minutes of sitting down, so we sent her away for drinks and concentrated on perusing their political-pamphlet-esque menu. Drinks arrived, but then our waitress disappeared for a good fifteen minutes, and my 16oz Sam Adams Original was beginning to dominate my empty stomach. But thus far, nothing uncommon to a DC restaurant go-er. The waitress was found, order given, and we directed ourselves to enjoying the view and deciding whether the President might be flying in, because there were fire trucks near the White House.
A good thirty minutes later, our food came.
That is when I was accosted with a Greek salad. I had ordered "shrimp and grits". Somehow she heard "shrimp Greek salad." I didn't even know that was on the menu! Now, I am not a salad girl, unless there's steak on it, but the combination of my empty stomach, beer, and over half an hour wait for our food made me desperate, so I ignored the mistake and dutifully tucked in.
I must say, for a salad, it was better than I expected. The mundane romaine lettuce was spiced up with a generous helping of kalamata olives, chunks of ripe avocado, gorbonzo beans, and good sized cubes (!?) of feta. The shrimp, sadly, had been "blackened", but not in the seasoning sense; they were literally charred, and while someone may say, "that was on purpose" it was too much. You tasted more carbon than shrimp, and they were tough and chewy. That said, I did eat all five that were provided. Some of us will stop at nothing when shrimp is involved.
Not ten minutes after the food was paraded out to the expectant party, the waitress returned to check on us... or I should say, to place the check on us, saying they had a large banquet coming and they needed our area. Should have thought of that before it took thirty minutes to bring out our food!!
Upon perusing the bill, they charged us for two extra cheeseburgers we knew nothing about, and 20oz beers instead of 160z (despite the waitresses verification "that's 16oz?" "Yes, thank you, 16oz.").
All in all, badly done, particularly considering the high-even-for-DC price of their average fare and the reputation of the Hotel. And the fact that one of our party was very sick for quite a while following his meal.
So, Hotel Washington, while I may still bring out-of-town guests your way from time to time, I don't have to enjoy it.
I give you a thumbs down.
Oh my! A shoe exhibit coming to town!
The great thing about being one of the few people who enjoy licorice is that no one wants to you to share your candy.
