Beginning "The Road"
So I started reading "The Road" by Cormac McCarthey. He's kind of a big deal. Like a living legend type of writer. This is my first experience with Cormac, because he's a southern gothic/western writer, and that's typically not my bag. For that case, neither is post-apocalyptic writing such as "The Road," but I decided to give it a go. This novel won the Pulitzer in 2007 for best fiction, and is highly praised by all of the lit critics that have cred, so post-apocalyptic fiction, here I come! I'm only on page 40, and I'm already in love. McCarthy. is. a. pure. master. of. the. English. language. Read and adore these quotes:
"A corpse in a doorway dried to leather. Grimacing at the day. He pulled the boy closer, Just remember that the things you put into your head are there forever, he said. You might want to think about that. You forget some things, don't you? Yes. you forget what you want to remember and you remember what you want to forget." p 12
"The lake dark glass and windowlights coming on along the shore. A radio somewhere. Neither of them had spoken a word. This was the perfect day of his childhood. This the day to shape the days upon." p 14
"It's snowing, the boy said. he looked at the sky. A single gray flake sifting down. he caught it in his hand and watched it expire there like the last host of christendom." p 17
I could go on and on, but you get the idea. He has this amazing poetic/prose style of writing that I've never seen before. He doesn't use quotation marks, uses strange words, and combines words incorrectly. I'm not sure why, but it's different and kind of wonderful.
Overall, read the stinking book. Even if you don't like post-apocalyptic storylines. Even if you don't think you can appreciate the style. Even if you don't like reading anything. It's worth it, and I'm only on page 40.
Book Review: Pygmy
Oh, the joy of summer reading. I'm not taking any classes this summer, so I'm enjoying the freedom to read whatever I want. I've missed out on a LOT of current fiction due to being lost in Shakespeare, Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, and other great writers. I can't complain about that, but when summer hit, I was itching to read something modern, edgy, different, obscure. I looked on Amazon and Library Thing (some of my biggest online time-sinks), and came up with Pygmy by Chuck
Palahniuk (which, after extensive
YouTube research, I found is pronounced pollen-
ick.)
Palahniuk isn't really obscure, he has a pretty large audience due to his most famous novel, Fight Club. My other criteria of modern, edgy, and different definitely apply.
I'm actually a little confused on if I liked the book or not. It was so different than what I'm used to reading that I was definitely intrigued, but I'm not sure if it was in a good way. Much like the movie version of Fight Club, there are scenes that make you feel like you need to scrub your brain clean after reading, but he wrote them in such a funny way that I didn't know whether to laugh or be offended. I guess that's Palahniuk's charm - the random scene in which the absurdly disgusting occurs written in biting humor. If that's your thing, then Palahniuk is your guy. I can't fathom where he comes up with his plot lines, and I'm sure a psychologist would have a field day trying to analyze his psyche. One thing is for sure: the man is an insanely gifted writer.
The book was told in 1st person point-of-view from a 13 year old terrorist from some unnamed fascist country. He was sent by his country to pose as a foreign exchange student in America, meanwhile plotting "Operation Havoc" with his fellow comrades. His English is very broken, but his insights into American life are funny. I found myself laughing despite myself. The entire novel is written in broken, fragmented sentences, which has put off several readers, but the book would not have worked without it. His language makes the unbelievable circumstances surrounding Pygmy work. (Sample sentence: "Next now, eye new positioned, locked door slip unhealed, latch loud clack, sound angry humming." ...definitely takes some getting used to!) The unusual prose made the book enjoyable for me. Palahniuk wrote of everyday American events through the cold eyes of this outsider - events such as trips to Walmart, middle school show choir, dodgeball, church - and made these events spectacles. Very creative.
So overall, I liked it. It was a quick read, definitely unique, made me laugh. I wouldn't recommend it to a large audience; he's pretty irreverent, and there are definitely some graphic descriptions that I could have done without. I'm not sure I'll ever read another Chuck Palahniuk book, but he's a good writer with some crazy ideas. How's that for a lukewarm review? :)
Next book on the chopping block: The Road by Cormac McCarthy
Melancholy Musings on Family
Once in awhile, when it's good
It'll feel like it should
And they're all still around
And you're still safe and sound
And you don't miss a thing
Till you cry when you're driving away in the dark
Oh, John, you know how to cut to the core of me. In all seriousness, these lyrics make me cry almost every time I hear them, which is often, because I'm obsessed with John Mayer's music. Ok, who am I kidding, I'm obsessed with all things John Mayer.
Anyway, I think this makes me cry when I hear it because it's such a poignant and melancholy metaphor of how deeply we love our families, yet with that love comes a certain feeling of foreboding. This feeling is magnified when you don't live near your family. I cried every time I left my parents house for about 3 years after leaving for college. Poor Justin knew it was coming and did his best to make it better each time it was leaving day. You're forced to recognize that family is home, but family is not forever. The comfort of "everyone together" is fleeting and precious. Having lost two grandparents in the last 6 months, I realize how safe it is knowing you have grandparents. Knowing there is a place that exemplifies unconditional love. Knowing there are four people in the world outside of your parents who are rooting for you no matter what. I was blessed with the best 4 grandparents known to man.
Shosh and Pops were the connoisseurs of the backyard barbecue, owners of the world's greatest screened in back porch, workers in an immaculately groomed back yard, bakers of bread and noodles, chefs of french toast and peanut butter and honey sandwiches (Shosh would write my name in honey on the bread...sometimes I still do it!), and parents to 4 kids who adored them. There was always laughter at Shosh & Pops' house. Always. Even if someone was getting in trouble (Adam's dog with the purple tongue, I got my mouth washed out with soap the first time there, and I could hear Shosh & Mom laughing as I was in the bathroom). I always felt fancy at Shosh's house. I wore her robes, brushed my hair with her brush, painted my nails w/ her. I have some of my favorite memories with Morgan and Adam there. Lots of funny, quirky moments, big celebrations, fun holiday gatherings, quiet and simple summer afternoons. It was a beautiful house full of love and memories, and I'll always miss it.
Grandpa & Grandma Holliday were owners of a child's paradise. A big, old house out in the country where kids were no longer burdened by the tedious rules of adults. Aunts, Uncles, and cousins abounded. There was never a dull moment. Horseshoe and croquet tournaments sometimes got a little heated. An endless supply of Wintergreen Lifesavers. The river and the old bridge was an endless source of entertainment. The infinitely proud grandpa who would boast for hours on his family. The grandma who would quietly agree, but was never the center of attention. The kitchen was packed with people, the food was always available. Imagination and make-believe abounded for the grandkids. Laughter and storytelling abounded for the adults. Almost all of my memories of the Holliday grandparents involved LOUD talking. It was always loud and buzzing with activity. The Holliday family was also full of love. Aunts, Uncles, Grandparents always made me feel like the world's most successful and interesting person. Another corner in the world where comfort and love lived that cannot ever be replicated.
I would love to go back to where "it'll feel like it should, and they're all still around, and you're still safe and sound," but I can't. The only thing to do is to try my best to recreate their love for future generations. Love my parents, love my siblings, love my extended families and their extended families. Love my husband's family with the same ferocity that my aunts/uncles-in-law love me. Stay connected. Stay interested. Stay family, not a bunch of people who happen to share some DNA. I'm definitely not perfect at this, not even close, but I recognize that I need to work harder at it.
Well, enough soul-bearing for one day. Talk about a schizophrenic blog - you never know what you're gonna get here, folks. I'm sure I have a grand total of 2 readers by this point, so have a good day, you two! (probably Mom and Justin)
Erin vs. Housewivery: Floors Edition
In a moment of acute stupidity followed by several hours of misguided, OCD type determination, I did something that I have never done before and will never do again. I scrubbed my tile floors. Like, hands and knees type scrubbing. Each tile, one. at. a. time. In hindsight, there were some definite red flags concerning this decision.
I first had the idea while watching an episode of The Tudors (which, by the way, Justin loves and I've grown cold toward. I can't stand King Henry VIII, and will never forgive him for his treachery. He's a bad, bad man.) Anyway, in one scene of The Tudors, there was a servant scrubbing the floors in a lovely dress. Her hair was perfect, she had a smile on her face, and there she was, just polishing the floors. I thought to myself, "wow, I'll bet those floors are impeccably clean. Maybe I should do that...doesn't look that hard!" hmmm. I'll spare you the wondering and tell you that it was not easy, I was not wearing a lovely dress, my hair is a sweaty mess, and I did not have a smile on my face. Oh, the inaccuracies of TV.
The next red flag occurred just minutes before making my ill advised decision. I was reading Martha Stewart's Homekeeping Handbook (which is the most amazing book ever. I use it all the time! If you don't have it, you're not truly living! Here's a link to see it http://tinyurl.com/pjreyq) I was reading about mopping, and she wrote something to the effect of, "if you've neglected mopping your floors regularly (I have) you might consider putting a little elbow grease into it and hand scrub them. It will make it easier to keep your floors clean for an extended period of time." Great! Just like that lady on The Tudors! I'm in! Well, "elbow grease" is a little different in Martha Stewart terms than it is in Erin Cowan terms.
The good news of this event is that I'm pretty sure I'm exempt from about a month at the gym. Surely I burned about 9 million calories. Ok, maybe a little dramatic, but seriously, Bob and Jillian on The Biggest Loser are missing a serious opportunity for some extra calorie burn! Also, my floors really are perfect. I've included a picture to show off my hard work. Notice the cat, who's about to screw it all up. NO CLEO! haha. Finally, I have divined an effective punishment for my future children when they do something really bad. This will be an effective parenting tool for me in the future.
Have a happy Wednesday, and don't get any hare brained ideas of hand scrubbing your floors!!
