wild

As usual, I got really excited about finishing the required reading this term and started on a large and riveting book right before finals, successfully distracting me from studying. OH WELL heh. So, here goes, I'm feeling a little tongue tied but there's so much I want to say about Wild by Cheryl Strayed. I'm sure whatever I have to say has been said a million times by now since it made it into Oprah's book club this year, but I really think it holds a special place in my heart now that I don't think that the one million middle aged women who read Oprah's book club books could begin to understand. [Not to sound too cool for school or anything: trust me I've had my narcissism put in check and my book taste humbled this month in a weird conversation I had with a friend the other night]

Alright, where to start? This book has been on my "to read" list since some hiking blog I follow posted something about it earlier in the year. I was super stoked because it's my only really difficult but realistic dream to hike the PCT or at least a good chunk of it. To my surprise, a couple months later when my dad came up to visit and give me a box full of groceries, the box included this book. I of course freaked out, and he was like "Oh I just finished it nbd thought you might like it". It's taken like all of my willpower NOT to read it the past couple months with all of the priority school work I've had. I set it on my kitchen table, which as far as "to read priority" goes is tops, [followed by the stack by my bed, the stack in the corner of my room, and finally the shelf in my closet.]Finally got to start it a couple days ago, and other than work and school, I haven't put it down since.

When I was home for thanksgiving, I was looking through some of the old books I read when I was a kid that we keep in the garage. Most of them were weird historical fiction books about girls surviving on the frontier or as pioneers on the Oregon trail. The first books I ever read were the Little House books. This is kind of my thing i guess.

So anyways, I was literally crying the whole way through. The first third of the book is just emotional stuff that I could barely even get through. There were so many parts where I could not even read through my tears, it was so heavy. But it was so compelling and cool. I was sad that she bypassed the high Sierras, because I had a pretty life changing backpacking trip there and I hope she eventually went back, because golly, there's really nothing I can say that can amply describe its beauty. Actually hold up. Sup. Anyways, when she gets to Oregon, I'm just like fuck yeah, my territory. She's like going through the woods, describing trails I've been on and mountains I've explored, and then she has this heartwrenching and terrifying experience. Oh god. I'm getting shivers thinking about it. I held my breath for a good five pages, and seriously was on the verge of an emotional breakdown when she finally lets it go. It's not a main plot point, it's just a relatively small anecdote, but fuck.

Let me explain. September, 2O1O [for Cheryl, September 1995]. Hunting season. Mount Jefferson Wilderness. The kind of crazy fucks who find themselves with a gun in the middleofnowhere Oregon, stupid deadbeats who hold nothing in today's society suddenly granted this power, their murderous instincts heightened, just wild about being outside of the law. They think they're on top of the world. Here, in the forest, with no cops, no social status, no education, they're fucking kings, they're killers. I really don't know what else to say, and I already feel like I'm rambling and not really dictating exactly what's going on in my head. Nothing happened with me and the girl I was backpacking with thankfully, but I was more terrified than I've ever been in the [possible] presence of bears, pumas, injuries, losing the trail, running out of food and other absolute bullshit you encounter being an unprepared and idealistic young backpacker. A guy with a gun, miles from civilization, who thinks he owns the forest and everything in it, including your body, is the most terrifying thing.

Gosh, that part just really riled me up and had me fuming and reliving traumatic.could.have.been's, triggering fight.or.flight feelings I'd forgotten about.

But here I am, fine, I just about cried happy tears at the end of the book, I'm really proud of the girl and everyone else who's accomplished the PCT, and I'm more excited and confident than ever that it's something I can actually do in the relatively near future. [definitely not alone though, this book checked that possibility out of the way, as much as I dreamed about that, there's just too many things I know I'd fucking freak out about alone]. It also really inspired me to pull the reigns in and actually seriously start to think about saving up money to wonder off to montana's wild for a couple weeks next summer. I can't afford more at this point in my life, in fact at the moment it would be quite impossible, but I'm formulating realistic plans, putting little pieces together for a rough outline.

So I'm actually kind of tempted to write this author. She lives in my city and just seems so real to me, I think I'd just like to send her a nice thumbs up letter. Which is so strange for me. But this book is definitely up there. Riveting story. It's obviously not some hip cool super awesomely written pretentious fuckery but I loved it and I'm not ashamed to say so. Thanks and goodnight.

Aanndd finally,

The last book I read for class was Here I Stand by Paul Robeson. I don't know, I wasn't too impressed by it, there's not a whole lot to say about it. I feel mean putting it down because it's a civil rights book or w/e but it just wasn't that moving, and Robeson seemed kiiinnndddaa full of himself, but I feel bad saying that too because I'm sure he was a great guy, i dunno. I was like crying and absolutely moved by a short letter we read by MLKjr the same week, so this book just didn't cut it for me in comparison. I don't know this review is like the biggest muddled mess [as was that class] and i'm just glad to be done with it all.

clocks

The second book read for class was Clock Without Hands by Carson McCullers. I'm writing this on a day where I feel absolutely numb and bored out of my wits but unable to do anything productive. You know those days, they pass. My brain has been in the process of shutting down the past couple weeks, since I got a cold last weekend I've been a little off. As I enter week 8 of this term, I'm completely lacking in any enthusiasm and passion for learning, an unwillingness to get out of bed, and the sort of pressing misery caused by an immense workload that never decreases no matter how hard you try, so you stop trying. Ugh. And my list of things that I would rather be doing severely overpowers my list of things I SHOULD be doing, manifesting itself in me doing absolutely nothing. J.F. deleted her blog today, why do I care so much? It's like the icing on the cake, this completely real soul with great wisdom and flowery words, and there's really no one else like her. I'm obsessed with a vision of a Christmas that is so far from reality. I just want to be in a cabin in the woods with my boy and a warm fire and maybe a few little ones, I'm just so done with pushing myself against the grain to get a degree to satisfy society's B.S. requirements for success. I would just die if I read the bell jar again right now haha.

Ughhhh rant over. I don't have a journal right now and I'm too lazy too physically write anyways. I really liked Clock without Hands. It had nothing to do with what I just wrote. It changed my perspective, which puts it in the rank of good books. And it held my attention. I liked the characters. Even the most ignorant ones were so hilarious lol

Quicksand

Welp, here goes this again. Back in school, no time to read ever. I signed up for a class called American Literature from 1865 to 1965 in hopes of reading things along the lines of Mark Twain and Faulkner, but it's all been essays and short stories thus far. It's like the biggest disappointment of a class anyways, for many reasons.
So one of the required books for the class was Quicksand by Nella Larsen. The main character was whiny and stupid, and only concerned with fine aesthetics and mulling over the past. She never seemed to learn, and kept passing up fine opportunities. There were literally no characters in the book that I liked, it was relatively boring. At least it was somewhat well written. But beyond that, yeah not super impressed.

Dragonz

So, I read Dealing with Dragons by Patricia C. Wrede last week while on a backpacking trip, I needed something small to come with me. I didn't like it much, it reminded me of Ella Enchanted, which was my favorite book growing up, only it completely lacked in heart and emotion and its characters were devoid of depth and I know it's a kids book but seriously I felt nothing the whole time. And I'm like the most emotional person ever, especially when reading. So yeah, maybe I would recommend it for kids but mostly I would just say "Hey kids there's better books out there".

Okay, I have ten minutes before work so I'm going to post crappy quick reaction reviews of the measly three books I've read this summer. This is a sad post representative of the sheer amount of business that has been my life since school started. Let's just say I'm never taking summer school again.

To wrap up that chapter of my life, I read Learning Capitalist Culture, an ethnography by Douglas Foley for my American Culture class. It was alright, I was expecting it to be a bit more transfixing since it took place in a racially tense Mexican/White community in Texas in the 7O's, anyone familiar with my cultural heritage might understand if not whatever. It was interesting to see how little high school culture has changed since then, I could relate most instances and people in the book to people I knew, with slight geographical and time differences. The end.

A couple days ago I finally finished A Light In August by William Faulkner after starting it in March after remembering my handsome English teacher from high school who said Faulkner was his favorite author and had us read As I Lay Dying, which I remember liking. I liked the tone of the book, I liked that I was completely able to transport myself to this time and place, I adequately hated and loved the characters the way I do real people, I loved the language and the writing was so dreamy and an awesome headscape, it just wasn't extraordinarily interesting, took me forever to drudge through, I dunno.

Today I read Illyria by Elizabeth Hand, a short young adult "fantasy" novel. It wasn't too "fantastic" unless young love is magic, I dunno, I have yet to fully reflect on it having finished it minutes ago. I liked it though, it was well written for a kids book and left out stupid details, was quick and nostalgic and encompassing and breathtaking and romantic. Shit I have to go to work. HOPE to write again soon.

I just finished Reading National Geographic by Catherine A. Lutz and Jane L. Collins. I liked it because I'm such a huge fan of Nat Geo and it made me think twice about the images and information I take in from the magazine, and helped me become more conscious about the thought that goes into the process of creating the magazine. I have a lot of old N.G's that I was able to flip through while reading this and say "Oh, hmm, yes!". I kind of got bored partway through and really had to fight for the concentration to finish it within a reasonable period of time because I'm reading it for my American Culture class. I'm taking summer classes so I probably won't be able to finish the two other books I'm reading for another month and a half because I'm completely swamped. I also got a job. So what I'm saying is that I don't have a summer and I'm crying inside. But yeah this is a shitty review so I'm just gonna stop. Until next time!

FOooodd

Finished The Omnivore's Dilemma by Michael Pollan yesterday. I read it for geography class, but a lot of the stuff we've actually been discussing in my environmental ethics class, so it was fun to link all that together. I think this book would be a lot more shocking to me if I hadn't already read a relatively stupid amount of things about being a conscious consumer and all that, and I hope it's opened a lot of people's eyes and changed lives. I've been a lot more aware of processed foods since reading it, and curious about industrial organic farming (more wary of "organic" food). It was just a really interesting book in general. I especially enjoyed the third part of it, which involved foraging and all that, which is like my favorite thing ever now. My writing skills are a little bit off today, so yeah the end.

How Nobel

I read Unbowed by Wangari Maathai for my Society and Environment class. (By the way I'm at real college now rather than online community college. Cool right?) I actually really enjoyed this book, it was super inspiring and interesting. It's been awhile since I've really liked a book for class. I don't really feel like writing right now because I spent 4 hours in the library today writing a paper about this book so I'll just post bits from my paper. Lazy huh. 

Wangari Maathai’s Unbowed was an interesting account of a Kenyan woman’s struggle for peace, freedom, and stewardship for the environment under an oppressive government

I think that the strength of the book was its accessibility. She is able to explain things in a way that most people will understand, even without any background knowledge of the history or cultures of Kenya. The book would be just as meaningful and inspiring from a Kikuyu perspective and it would be from a Western perspective. Before reading this book, problems like oppressive governments were only as real to me as the dystopian science fiction novels I’ve read. Wangari utilized geographical concepts, universal struggles, clear language and the idea of the “shrinking” world to help me realize that these are real issues, and they are happening in my lifetime in the world that I share with seven billion others. It was highly inspiring and overall a very entertaining read.

The only weakness I was bothered by was the limitation of perspective. As a memoir, Wangari is not required to tell the truth or lend any evidence to her allegations. Although I personally believe that she is a good and honest person, I’m left only with this faith and her understanding of issues to understand them myself. So one must take this book for what it is, a memoir, and put an immense amount of trust in the author in order to understand her life.

Off Griddin'

So last weekend when I was at my parents house, I mysteriously finished the Hunger Games a lot faster than I expected and was left with nothing to read. I thought the best thing would be to grab another book out of my dad's creepy survivalist stack called Off the Grid: Inside the Movement for More Space, Less Government, and True Independence in Modern America by Nick Rosen.

Now, I think I've made it pretty clear from my choice of books beyond fantasy and classics that I'm definitely interested in living close to nature. There are more to come (hopefully) later this year with books like Walden and Into the Wild in my "Important seriously read these books quit buying more books" stack. So this book definitely appealed to me in that respect. It presented a lot of options for alternative lifestyles and information about challenges faced by people living "off the grid".
The thing that totally turned me off about this book though, was the author. I definitely don't read a lot of non-fiction, but when I do, I expect a certain amount of objectivity if I'm going to be taking it seriously. I like when the author has voice and an interesting perspective (like Dolly Freed, see previous post), but this guy was plain rude.

He would write people's full names, and whether he liked them or not would determine his description of them. "She was short with pleasant looking laugh lines" might turn into "She was stunted and old, age had not served her well, her face was wrinkled like an old paper bag". He might not outright say that he didn't like them, but his opinions were clear by what he chose to focus on, including the state of their home, ridiculous beliefs, or reluctance to participate in his interviews. And he judges them too quickly, giving them no sympathetic human qualities. It's like he doesn't realize that they're real people, not just characters. It was too personal to be read as "truth", which made me question the entire legitimacy of the book.
He really forces his judgement on the reader, which is really annoying, and leaves no room for you to think freely and create your own opinion.

He's also disrespectful of some people's privacy. I mean, most of the time they've invited him into their home and shared personal information about themselves, and he has the audacity to pass judgement on them alongside their full name in print. It's like come on! They're trusting you! There's literally no reason to write that mean for a book with this sort of content. And sometimes he goes to their property without their permission, or interviews people close to them behind their backs. It's frustrating.

I also question whether he chose people representative of "off gridders", or just went for the most fascinating stories. At one point, he is at a homeless camp that is mostly men, and he makes a beeline for the only young female there, admittedly to get a story. I get that, I get that you want people to find your book interesting, but the fact that people live off grid at all is already super interesting, and I'm sure they have no shortage of fascinating stories.

There's just a lot of things that bother me about this book that I couldn't get past. I'm sure if a more pleasant person with a more open mind were to go interview those same people, they would get very different stories out of them, and a lot more interesting personal information. Whatever. I'm not recommending this book to anyone and it isn't my loss.

More hunger

So I totally forgot to post when I finished Catching Fire and Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins last week. They were good, I liked them, but they weren't as strong as the first book. Catching Fire had a somewhat slow start, and the Games felt kind of rushed. Also, about halfway through I started realizing that I was "Team Peeta". Whenever I feel some sort of weird team mentality in reference to fictional teen hotties when the main character, an attractive yet modest young girl is torn between loving both of them, I start to question the book. I would have loved that sort of soap opera romance as a pre-teen, but with the highly shirtless media frenzy over the Jacob/Edward dillema that Twilight posed, this plot device just feels very used and abused.
Also, Mockingjay kind of took a turn for the worst towards the end. Think Bell Jar bat shit crazy kind of worst. It seemed like a realistic way to respond to all of the drama that happened, but at the same time, this sort of thing really weighs me down. The sort of drama it presented was entirely psychologically driven, as opposed to the psychological subtlety seamlessly intertwined with thrilling adventure of the previous books.
Another thing that bothered me about Mockingjay was that literally like every other chapter, Katniss wakes up in a hospital bed. Seriously, she gets horribly wounded like 600 times in that book.
I'm actually starting to feel like I have nothing good to say about the last two books other than that they were interesting, entertaining, and somewhat thought provoking. They just didn't play out as well as the first book did. Oh well.

In other news, I had a dream last night where I was in the Hunger Games, and I basically hid the whole time like the scaredy cat that I am, and made a weapon out of a bone needle attached to a rubber band that I used like a slingshot spear thing. Then I found a bow and was relieved because I guess that was my main weapon or something, go figure.

Survival

Well, I finished three books in one week: I was NOT expecting that. I really should have heeded my friend's warning that once I started The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins, I would not be able to stop. She was right.

Normally I start reading around midnight so that I can settle down to sleep and get an hour of reading done. That didn't happen last night. Even though I was sleeping in my own bed for the first time in 6 months, I stayed up till 5:30am, at which point I MADE myself put the book down and get some rest. Needless to say I finished it the next afternoon.

This book was just so enthralling and full of excitement, there was literally no good stopping point. I think this is the first book I've ever read where I can honestly say there was never a dull moment. It was a perfect balance of adventure, badassery, survival, politics, romance, and fun. I generally have an aversion to books set in the future, but this one had enough primal awesomeness and nature to keep me interested.

The author is very clever for coming up with this concept. Since it's supposed to be a Most Dangerous Game type reality T.V. show, the narrator is constantly dreading when the producers are going to intervene to make it more dramatic. Of course, this constant barrage of excitement not only pleases the audience in the Capital, but it pleases the reader too. How brilliant is that?

I really fell for the characters too. I almost teared up at parts, and "aww'd" at others. The likeable characters were all so good, I could never choose a favorite.

One weird affect that this book had on me was the realization that I would never last in the Hunger Games. I spent the afternoon thinking of ways I would survive (probably most like Foxface: using my wit and mooching off the people who knew what they were doing, while keeping a low profile), but I would be useless on my own. I go backpacking, but without gear I feel like I'd be pretty retarded. That's why I really admire Katniss, she's awesome. I also tried to think of ways I would kill people, and how I would probably end up being the asshole who slits throats while people are sleeping, when I realized how creepy it was that I was thinking that. But hey, you gotta do what you gotta do.

But yeah..even though I have loads of homework I'm probably going to finish the other two books in the series this week. Starting next month I'm going to be going back to school full time so I'll have a lot less time to read. Oh, and I changed the layout of this whole thing. I think the book background is a little obvious but I love it haha. The end.

Wild

I finally got around to reading Wildwood by Colin Meloy (of The Decemberists). I've been looking forward to this read for a long time, Colin Meloy is one of my favorite songwriters, I love going into the other world of vengeful sailors and class torn lovers and gypsy queens that The Decemberists create. Another plus about this book is that it was illustrated by his wife, Carson Ellis, who is one of my favorite illustrators. She does all of the dreamy cover art for the Decemberists albums and illustrated the Mysterious Benedict Society (which I mysteriously never finished).
So I definitely had high expectations for this book. I liked it, but I think my expectations may have been too high. Maybe if it had been shorter, Meloy could have focused more on the creative wordplay and character development that he's excellent at. (Yeah, character development in songs.) Instead the book was 500+ pages. I don't have patience for long books unless they are totally enthralling. Unfortunately, this book wasn't.
I still liked it though. It was pleasant, I liked the cute characters, I liked the theatrical feel of it all. I liked that it took place in Portland and the wilderness beyond. I loved imagining Prue riding her bike through my neighborhood, I can totally see her going to the weird environmental school by my house. I'm going to love letting my children read this and let them imagine that they're in the story.
Oh and the illustrations? Exceeded expectations. There are color illustrations on nice paper throughout the book, truly lovely.
Anyways, I'm off to start a new book series which I'm kind of scared about: I have a lot of homework to do and word is that they're completely addicting.

Wild n Free

The book I just finished is Possum Living: How to Live Well Without a Job and With (Almost) No Money. After offering me all the books in my dad's new survivalist book collection that is representative of his midlife crisis, I chose this one because of the impressive back cover note that it was written by an 18-year-old girl. I thought, "Well I don't have a job and I'm running out of money fast, this will make more sense to me than survival books written by middle aged men".
This book is not "How to Live in Poverty", it's more "How to be a Modern Day Hunter Gatherer in a Relatively Urban Setting Completely Separate from the Economy"
All my hopes were fulfilled, Dolly is frugal and inventive, and I was able to pick up some tips that will hone my saving skills. She's lazy, self sufficient, and enjoys the small things in life, just like myself. There were some parts where she came off as slightly intimidating and aggressive, bashing relatively tolerable things, but it was easy to get over and just accept her as she was: a spunky, cocky, kid. She even apologizes for some of the things she said in the new edition's epilogue.
I love how often she cites Diogenes as her and her father's hero as a reject of materialism. I personally adore St. Francis of Assisi in this respect, and being a non-religious person, it was cool to hear about a more secular St. Francis-like historical figure.
Fortunately, this was the most inspiring read I've had in a couple months (I know, I've only read 3 books this year..). I really want to be entirely self sufficient at some point in my life, and I guess I just have to take baby steps to reach my goal. So instead of going out and buying rabbits to breed and eventually eat (a yearning that surprised my boyfriend, who perceives me as a militant vegetarian), I spent all day researching various methods of gardening in a small space such as an apartment. After some scavenging through my neighbors yards and recycling bins, my new obsession is my frugal windowsill herb garden, which only cost $5 altogether (potting soil and seeds..Dolly probably wouldn't have approved...but, eh.). Wish me good luck though, I get hardly any sunlight.

Stealing Stuff?

I just finished The Good Thief by Hannah Tinti. It wasn't remarkable or moving or inspiring or thought-provoking or anything so there isn't a lot to say. It was entertaining, that's all. A beach read or whatever. Good for an airplane or distraction from homework. It wasn't terrible so there's nothing for me to criticize. Let's make this the least interesting book review of 2012 and move along.

Aching for Hiking

I just finished A Walk In the Woods by Bill Bryson. Basically just a middle-aged man's account of his experiences on the Appalachian Trail. Hey, I liked it. That was not a flattering summary sentence. But whatever.
Yeah I really enjoyed it. Clearly I'm not in the mood to be writing right now, I have a lot of things that I need to be doing, but the main thing that I got out of this book was a reinforced yearning to get into the mountains, which really isn't appreciated nor welcome in January. So there you go, for future reference, this is a book best read in the summer.