Perfection vs. Imperfection- Does love know these bounds?

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun (Sonnet 130) by William Shakespeare

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.
   And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
   As any she belied with false compare.

Alright, I admit it. I totally got lucky with this one. I was going to do Shakespeare anyway, since we are doing one of his plays in Drama. (DEAR AMANDA AND BEYOND-SPOILER ALERT*. Then I was watching My So-Called Life, and this sonnet just sort of shoved itself in my face, since it was featured on the show as the turning point for Jordan Catalano (the protagonists love interest)- to realize he did want to be with Angela. *Girly squeal*. (*SPOILER ALERT OVER*) So yes, they read this poem in English class on the show and I was watching it, and was like, "Hey, I should write about this for my blog post."

In nearly every book you read, the protagonists love interest is talked about or described in a way that makes them seem absolutely perfect. I suppose that is not unlike real life- when you're in love, you look at the person as if they were the most beautiful, perfect, incredible person in the world, for some period of time.

I noticed, firstly, how every line is a comparison between a dream girl and his own love. There are comparisons of her hair, her scent, her lips, and the way she speaks. He seems to take cliches of the perfect girl (snow white skin, rosy cheeks, eyes like the sun, etc), and he compares his own mistress to this, usually with a bit of a dismissive tone. Not like, "My girlfriend sucks because she's not blonde and her breath reeks," but more of a simple, matter-of-fact tone, like saying, "This is the way a dream girl is supposed to be, but my mistress isn't like that. He also seems to be honest with himself in some ways, especially, "I love to hear her speak, yet well I know; That music hath a far more pleasing sound." He seems to be grasping reality with sentences like these. As if he's telling himself, "C'mon, man. I mean, I love to hear her speak, but there are things that sound-better. Like music."

Honestly, this isn't a very dreamy-lovey-dovey like poem. In fact, he seems to be comparing his mistress with the cliche perfect woman and accepting how his lover doesn't have all of these qualities. But he still loves her. He is not trying to tell himself she's perfect, because he knows she isn't. The last line, "And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare; As any she belied with false compare,"-Basically reveals all you need to know about the poem. Here, he's saying, the woman I'm trying to compare her too is as rare as my love for her. I know it's cheesy, but that's his conclusion. He says to himself that his love is just as powerful and heart stopping as being with this perfect woman he is comparing his mistress too.

I think that even when a person is in love, as well as pursuing your feelings and blah blah blah, it's important to keep a realistic eye. Although you may be telling yourself that you are waiting for a certain type of person, and you don't want to be with anyone else until you find that person, your potential love is not always that person. A person that you'd be perfectly happy with, and possibly even be in love with, is right in front of you, no matter how imperfect they may seem. Oh dear, did I just write a cheesy teenage-girl-esque interpretation of love? *Mental Slap*

Journey through the Harry Potter series: Harry Potter and the Sorcerers Stone

Firstly, if you are puzzled by the title, click here, since I don't really want to explain it again. If you don't want to read my life story along with the introduction, scroll down to the bottom of that rather long post right up there.

Harry Potter and the Sorcerers Stone is the first book of the seven Harry Potter books. It's only seventeen chapters. In this book, Harry Potter learns that he's a famous wizard, instead of just some loser orphan who's stuck with his aunt and uncle and cousin, who hate him. He gets accepted into the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, is guided through this new magical world by several people, and makes new friends.

I find this book rather light-hearted. It's so full of wonder, curiosity, and mainly consists of Harry trying to find out how to live in this world. Nearly every other word out of Harry's mouth is, "What's that?" "I'm a WIZARD?" "Who is Voldemort?" "Who is that?" He's leaning and taking in so much, like a baby being born into it's new and open world.

Despite a large portion of the book being a question and answer session, I think it works. Why? Because when this came out, it was the first Harry Potter book. You are like Harry, being thrown into this fantastical, surreal world! You want to know just as much as he does, and you know just as little. J.K. Rowling created this world and this book is solely responsible for introducing to to the basics of it, so we can get on with the more serious stuff. And although I did feel frustration in reading two page question and answer session about how Quiddich worked, and found myself saying out loud, "I know how Quiddich works! Let's see some three headed dogs!", I of course, had to find the strength in my heart to tolerate it.

And this book is lighthearted and innocent as well. The books get darker and darker as they go along. You mature with the books. This is definitely a smart move by Ms. Rowling. You wouldn't want your Little Tom or Little Jane to pick up their first Harry Potter book and be terrified to tears by the tactics and evil of Voldemort. Even the final suspenseful scene (through the trapdoor), is written in a way that is not spitting dark magic and death. Even the encounter with Voldemort is written in such a way. The little drops of "Yes Harry, there are evil wizards," are dropped here and there, in a way so you have knowledge of it, but it's not intimidating to you. After all, Harry Potter is eleven years old. He needn't know about all that yet, and you don't either. You have six more books to lean about all that. Wow!

To me, this book was full of delight, wonder, and light hearted-ness. Which suits the book and is nessecary, considering the circumstances when it came out.

Journey through the Harry Potter series

Hello, chaps!

I'm sure that all of you are familiar with the wildly popular Harry Potter series. In fact, the last film is to be released in July 2011. Whether Harry Potter will die slowly or quickly after this demise, I cannot say, but for now, I'm going to be looking at Harry Potter with brand new eyes, (and possibly the eyes of six years worth of HP obsession).

Yes, I am a Harry Potter dork. Perhaps not as dorky as some, but I do love the series, and spent first, second, and third grade reading the series over and over again in a continuous loop. Of course, back when I was in thirdish grade there was only Harry Potter 1-6, so I had to make do with that. I think I read all the books about five times, at least. And that's not including all the nights I spent having Harry Potter being read to me. Harry Potter. It was ridiculous. It was extraordinary. It was like elementary school crack. (Pardon the drug reference. But it really was.)

Unfortunately, after I lost someone who shared my Harry Potter obsession and guided me through my Harry Potter experience, I avoided the series, not intentionally, I don't think, but there was something in my subconscious mind that didn't want me to read it. I was probably too young to really identify the series with that person, and be desperate to avoid the emotional pain to come with reading it again. But alas, I saw the movies that came out after that, and enjoyed them, (sort of).

A year later, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows came out.

The damn thing was everywhere. Every bookstore you walked into had a six foot poster of the gangly, mussy haired, lightning bolt scarred boy-now man-who's story we all had an obsession with. As the summer neared closer, more and more kept popping up. Get the Harry Potter book at midnight. Harry Potter here! Get it at Midnight! Harry Potter? Yep, it's here! It was like I was in a horror movie.

But I really did want to read it. The addictiveness of Harry Potter crack was seeping through my veins, and indeed, I needed to go get this book at midnight. Dad, I seriously need to go get this book at midnight. Dad? Hey dad? Ever heard of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows? Yeah, I kind of need to go to Barnes and Nobles at midnight and get the book, otherwise I will be in so much pain, it'd be like I was under the Crucius Curse.

"I would take you, but I think you're going to be in Cincinnati when the book comes out."

As you can guess, compromises simply had to be made.

So I dragged my aunt, who had no interest in reading Harry Potter, to a supermarket in Ohio so we could wait in line for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. She was puzzled to see many middle aged men dressed in Hogwarts cloaks and I could see her checking her watch every couple of moments. I was in no Harry Potter heaven, either. It was a supermarket, so there were fluorescent lights buzzing, and the polished white floors and walls and ceiling made me feel like I was in a spaceship, about to be probed. I thought about how nice it would be to be at Barnes and Nobles, where the floor was carpeted and there were books surrounding me, keeping my company. The highlight of the evening, though, was winning a raffle and getting a free copy, as opposed to paying the 40$ they were charging.

So we drove home. I tried to make out the lettering of the first chapter through the glints of passing street lamps, buried my nose in the book all the way up the stairs and into the loft that was in my little cousin's room. I read five chapters, then fell asleep. I woke up the next morning, refused to socialize, and read, nonstop, up in my room. I read in the car on the way to my grandparents. I read in my grandparents room. I finished all thirty seven chapters in ten hours. I read the epilogue, buried my face in the book and cried because it was over, wiped away my tears, put the book away on my shelf, and never touched it again.

Now here is where all my rambling and storytelling and reminiscing ends. You may be thinking,
"Wow Hannah. Is there a point to this story?" Why no, my friends! Quite honestly, if you wanted to get to the point of my post and skip over the mumbo jumbo, you could have just scrolled down to right about here.

I am on a quest. I am going to read one, yes only one, chapter a day of every single Harry Potter book. I want to look at the book with the eyes of a more experienced and mature person. I want to feel the same delight and wonder as I did when they were first read to me. Also, I felt like an idiot when I sat down after the ELA classes went to see Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows Part I, was grouped with the people who had read the book before, and had absolutely no clue what anyone was talking about, considering I read all 700 and something pages in ten hours five years ago.

I did the calculations (because that's just what I do in my spare time), and I will be able to finish all seven books before the final movie comes out. And I need you, yes you, to help me. (No, I actually don't. That just seemed like the cliche thing to say. I'm doing this completely by myself.) But, after I finish each book, I will blog post about it. Yay! That is all. Go back to your facebook pages now.

(P.S.- I finished the first book, and since I'm afraid Ms. Robbins won't believe I'm doing independent reading since this post isn't technically about my independent reading book, I'm going to write about Harry Potter and the Sorcerers Stone here.)

So simple, yet so... complex (possibly)

I never read forwards in stories. At least, not before I read the book. If I really enjoyed the book, yes, I will go back an pour over every little detail (including the forward).

But today I finished reading Our Town by Thorton Wilder. The Harperperennial Modern Classics Edition. The play itself is 109 pages. Three acts. The forward and afterword are 83 pages. I did the math and was like, WHOA, that's like, 45 percent of the book. (I lied, I didn't do the math. But that's a relatively reasonable guess).

It's hard to recap the plot of this play, since there really isn't one. This play is about a small town (and as far as small towns go these days, I'm talking, like, ten times smaller than what you're probably imagining right now). The town is Grovers Corners, in New Hampshire, and it starts on May 7, 1901. The first act is "Daily Life". The second act is "Love and Marriage." The third act is "Death and Eternity." The main characters are the Webbs (Mrs. Webb, Mr. Webb, and Emily Webb), and the Gibbs (George Gibbs, Mrs. Gibbs, and Doctor Gibbs). And then there is the Stage Manger, who guides us through the town, makes observations, and talks to the audience (breaking the fourth wall).

I really did like this play. My favorite- personally, was the third act. It hit closest to home for me. Not just because my drama monologue was in it, but because it was so simply played out, but it was so affecting.

*NOTE: There are some spoiler alerts, but honestly this is a classic play and pretty much everyone knows how it ends, and it's not a paticurally suspenseful ending, and the way it's written and performed is much more affecting than the plot line itself. So at this point, if I were you, I wouldn't care about the ending being spoiled. But, none the less, SPOILER ALERT.*

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that this play, this rather simply written, plot less, characters-with-hardly-any-personality play, is an allegory for life. I mean, it's printed on the back cover, for gods sakes. ("This Pulitzer Prize winning drama of life in the small village of Grover's Corners, an allegorical representation of all life, has become a classic".) Kind of puts the words into your mouth, huh? Anywho, yes. It broke down so many walls in theatre. (Not literally).

This play makes me think that perhaps keeping the plot and characters simple, but with scenes and moments that much of the audience will identify with their own life or feelings, will attach them more emotionally than anything else. Even if you live in a gigantic city, where you hardly know anybody (quite the opposite of Grovers Corners), you may be able to identify with some of the feelings towards love in act 2. Or perhaps you've wondered about life and death in some ways in act 3.

No one shall ever try to attempt Our Town.

"Stop Condenscending to Teenagers!" -John Green

I read "Looking for Alaska" by John Green back in September, but I loved it so much I decided to go back to it and buy it at the bookstore and read it again. I love this book. It's so incredibly written, tear jerking, funny, and overall life changing for me. Looking for Alaska is about 16 year old Miles (nicknamed Pudge), and his transition to a boarding school in Alabama. There, he meets some new friends, who "his parents would normally describe as the bad kids, but they seemed too smart to be." He meets Chip (nicknamed the Colonel), Takumi, Lara, and Alaska. They drink, smoke, and pull pranks. But, as I said, they are extremely intelligent. He develops a huge crush on Alaska, who is spontaneous, clever, mysterious, and utterly fascinating.

After immersing myself into this book I had read before, I googled the book, hoping to find some quotes or something, and I found out that the author, John Green, has a Youtube channel. He and his brother vlog eachother back and forth. A couple of videos came up about Looking for Alaska and this one popped up, and it really got me thinking.



If, for whatever reason, you can't watch this, let me break it down for you:

John Green, the author of Looking for Alaska, made this video, expressing his excitement about having an 11th grade English class read his book. Since there are some scenes in Looking for Alaska that are a bit controversial, the school sent home a permission slip making sure parents approved of their kids reading the book. There was an uproar throughout the school board about the book. They thought "The book was pornographic and that it will cause immoral thoughts and actions in children." He goes on to explain the purpose of the scene that was "pornographic," raising some very good points.

Basically, there are two very brief, frank sexual scenes in the book. The first is very awkward and disasterous. It's very emotionally empty. The second scene is much, much less sexual than the last and although there is a lot less physical closeness, there is an intense emotional connection. He wanted to draw a contrast between these two scenes.

Apparently the school board, even after they heard this argument, said that kids don't have the critical sophistication to understand that. And to that, he says "Stop Condenscending to Teenagers!" (Hence my title).

That part really made me think. Why do people try to shield us from things that do happen in the real world? If we don't learn about them, how will we ever be able to think critically? There are many controversial things in Looking for Alaska that I can think critically about. I think that Green chose to make the people Pudge hang out with drink and smoke because it makes them seem more taboo and mysterious. Considering that at first Pudge, the kid who had no friends in his hometown, was going to stay away from "the bad kids" as his parents said, would make friends with them really breaks down barriers. I think it's also more believable if cliques, such as in this book, are defying stereotypes, which Pudge's friends do by being very intelligent.

The whole point of having those scenes in Looking for Alaska is to show that physical intimacy will never stand in for emotional closeness. Many teenagers have the intellect and sophistication they need in order to read critically. People should be more trust in kids when it comes to exposing them to new issues and controversial scenes in their books. I think this whole experience has taught me to really think- What is the purpose of the 'controversial' scenes in my book? Should adults have more trust in teenagers when it comes to analyzing text?

On a final note- his videos are hysterical, especially the ones pertaining to his books. If you are a fan of his novels you should go check it out. "No teenagers should be allowed to read this disgusting work of lexicography!"

And P.S., John Green- Yes. After reading Waiting for Godot, I do think it's cool to sit around all day and do nothing. Although I do that anyway.

Questions in between pages

How long does it take you to accept how your society works? How quickly must you grow up, depending on your situation? What will you be willing to give up in order to survive? Is there always hope? This are some of the many, many questions that Sold by Patricia McCormick has pressed upon me.

In Sold, 13 year old Lakshmi had been living in the mountains with her mother, baby brother, and step father. They were poor and her father gambled away all her money. Once she gets her first 'blood', she slowly but surely begins learning the true way her society works. How you may never look a man in the eye, or how once you are married you may only eat once your husband has had his fill. Or how if he turns to you in the night, you must give yourself to him in hopes you will bear him a son. Even Lakshmi's stepfather describes the difference between a daughter and a son in this way: "A son is always a son. But a girl is like a goat. Good as long as she gives you milk and butter. But not worth crying over when it's time to make a stew."

After Lakshmi's sudden brisk into the confined world of Nepali womanhood, with her family in debt, her stepfather sells her to become a maid in the city. Or so she believes- after a long week of traveling, she realizes that she has been sold into prostitution.

She cannot leave until she pays off her debt. At first she is overcome by shock, and she tries to escape, but is given drugs and is confined to her room for a room so men can come to her. After she is realeased because they "cannot get a good price for her because she is no longer a virgin," she makes life changing decisions. Must I give up my naive ways in order for men to come to me so I can pay off my debt? Will I face the reality of my situation and find a way out?

I absolutely hate jobs that objectify women (Prostitution, stripping, etc), but what's worse is to watch girls my age so such things. In this book, girls who are fourteen or so are sexualizing themselves for men three times their age. And do they have a choice? Certainly not- they cannot leave until they've paid off their debt, which could take years. There's one chapter where another working girl is explaining to Lakshmi her techniques to make men choose you; Tell the customers that you are twelve. If an old man is at the door, bat your eyes and act your part as a little girl. Flick the ends of your shawl in a come-closer gesture and it will bring the shy men to your bed. Draw your shawl to your chin, bend your neck like a peacock and it will bring the older men to your bed.

It's heartbreaking to watch these girls be sexualized and snatched of their innocence. In other parts of the world, these girls would be expected to act as children- to hang out with their friends, to go to school, to learn. Why does their society work this way? Why must women, and in this case girls, be treated as property and entertainment?

Obviously, the calling to the social action in this book are the horrible accounts of sexual slavery in the story. But there is more to it than that- within this huge issue, there are smaller ideas embedded in. How does this affect the girls who are experiencing these heartbreaking struggles? Are they traumatized later in life? How do they cope? How do they find a way out?

An odd reading week

I've been bouncing between Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger and Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller. Now, if you've read either of these, you'll understand how completely and utterly fascinating they are, and how sometimes you may have to read a page two or three times to really comprehend the information packed between the lines. I will likely blog about either of these two in the future, but for now, I'm only 30 or so pages into each and I don't feel quite ready or passionate enough to write a post about it yet. But on the other hand, this is my grade, so I need to say something related to my reading this week.

An hour or so ago, out of boredom I picked up The Curious Case of the Dog in the Night-time. I probably read this three times or so last summer, and out of a burst of nostalgia I began reading it again. I read about fifty pages, and I realized something.

This is an absolutely brilliant book.

Well yes, I already knew that. I knew that the first time I read it. I knew that when I was fifteen pages into the book the first time I read it. But one of the contributing factors to the book's absolute brilliance is that we know something the character doesn't.

Too vague? Let me explain. Christopher has Aspergers sydrome or some other form of autism, which isn't directly mentioned in the book, but if you know what the condition is, it's very clear. (Oh look! Another post about a book with a character who has Aspergers. I'm beginning to see a pattern here.) But yes, it's very clear to me and many others who read the book. Christopher lacks serious social skills, including reading body language, motives, and understanding others emotions. He can hardly even get into a conversation with someone.

But as the book goes on, the emotions and shock rise, intensifying the other characters actions (along with Christophers). But what's amazing is that although the other character's emotions are so strong, Christopher cannot understand that they're even having these emotions, or what they are, or why they're acting the way they're acting. Even in the slightest bit. Christopher is blinded, in that sense. But us, having the vague details Christopher (who is narrating) gives us, can come to conclusions about those around him. Mrs. Shears, Mr. Shears, his mother and father. And the fact of the matter is, with Christopher's condition, he can't draw conclusions or read emotions of those around them. But our ability to do so and empathize with the other characters makes the book completely fascinating and beautiful.

In some ways, I compare this book to The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger. I know it's strange, but hear me out. If you have ever read this book, you will know of Holden Caulfield, who is a fascinating character and narrator. And what makes him so fascinating it this- he's a bit of a jerk. There often thinks he's above everybody, and that everyone else is "phoney" and he's the only and the only person who isn't "phoney." He's very hostile towards other people too. Chances are, if he really existed, no one would want anything to do with him. (Not that he was paticurally liked by the other characters in the book either.) But the story from his perspective, reading his exact thoughts, what causes his actions, and his past- that's what makes the book brilliant.

(P.S.- I don't think Holden is a terrible person or anything. I think he has some very good qualities, but the way he acts towards other people makes him seem extremely jerk-ish to me. But that's unrelated.)

So what we know that he doesn't is that he is arrogant, annoying, and ignorant. But it's hilarious and intriguing to watch Holden act in such a way. In many other books you find yourself always on the narrators/main characters side. In other books it may be easy to assume that the main character thinks in the same way as you do, about the other characters, their life, or in some cases, themselves.

(On a final note, maybe it was a good thing I didn't attempt to write about Franny and Zooey or Death of a Salesman. I like this post a lot.)

P.S.-I just picked up the book and one of the critics on the back mentioned Catcher in the Rye. I kid you not. Damn, now I feel a great deal less observant. So much for ending the post on a high note.