Starling and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week

It's been a bit of a crap week. Luckily for you readers (all two of you (hi Mom!)), I'm saving all of my whining for my roommates and family.

But sometimes, you know, whining isn't enough. I need to just wallow in it for a while; give myself permission to take extra naps and eat lots of baked goods and be mopey for a while. Wear my sweatpants and pull out all of my comfort movies and books.

You know where this is going, don't you?

Maybe I should have prefaced this blog by saying how much I love making lists of things.

Starling's List of Good Books for Bad Days

1. Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by Judith Viorst.
You think your day is bad? At least you didn't have to go to the dentist and find out you have a cavity. And I bet your big brother didn't push you in a mud puddle and call you a crybaby.
This is only one of several books about Alex; most of them manage to be poignant and humorous, in a way that only Viorst can do it. Hell, it's the basic human condition she's writing about, just in small words.

(I admit that I'm partial because I kind of look like Alex as well:


That was totally me at work today.)

2.) Cotton by Christopher Wilson. Lee Cotton is a black boy born with white skin in 1950's Mississippi. This manages to be only the beginning of his identity issues. He undergoes several transformative experiences, both in the spiritual sense and actual physical sense, throughout the course of the book.
Wilson ties his wandering narrative and large doses of magical realism together with gorgeous, meandering prose, and manages to impart a fair bit of worldly wisdom regarding identity and the strange turns of fate. I read this book whenever I feel like a societal outcast (an embarrassingly frequent occasion).

3. A Poem Traveled Down My Arm by Alice Walker. With most of the poems no longer than a few lines, and most of the lines no longer than a word or two, this book is startlingly articulate and evocative. The simplicity of it allows the words and images to get past whatever barriers I've erected. Every time I read it, I'm struck by something new. This time around:

Lack of
balance
staggers
us.

To fall
is
easy.

Even so,
falling
will not
help.

Wise words, and a welcome reality check at a private pity party.

4. Un Lun Dun by China Mieville. The plot is simple: There is a city. The city is threatened by a villain. The heroine must obtain a weapon in order to defeat the villain.
But this is China Mieville, arguably one of the best writers in the urban fantasy genre. The city is UnLondon, a shadowself of the city built from trash heaps and oddbits, that manages to retain all attitude of its counterpart. Don't let the simple premise fool you. Un Lun Dun is brilliant.
How do I love this book? Let me count the ways.
Puns. London slang. Steampunk. Zombies. Word play. Sarcastic heroine who has a milk carton as a pet. Unexpected plot twists. Evil giraffes.

Did I mention Mieville also illustrates it? This book is just fun. Great for days when you want to escape from the world. Or any other time, really.

5. Stuff On My Cat and More Stuff On My Cat, photos compiled Mario Garza. Because it doesn't really get much sillier than pictures of cats with stuff on them, at least until a book of cat macros gets made. (You know it's inevitable, right?) Luckily, there's also a website, for those crap days when you're far from home.

Here's hoping you'll be better prepared against your next Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad day.

Sad day for any booknerd

Today, because of dire financial circumstances, I had to sell some of my books.

This is always just a little heartbreaking. I've carried some books with me across the country, through four years of constant moving. I've held onto books longer than jobs, relationships, schools, friendships, beliefs, and personal identities. It can be years since I've opened one, but having them with me brings a kind of comfort all its own.

Every book I keep usually has some kind of personal association with it, aside from the story. Amongst others, today I sold copies of The Know-It-All that my mother gave me and The Hippopotamus that I bought in China. It was a sad moment. I'm as much in favor of non-attachment as any other Buddhist-influenced atheist (if that makes any sense), but books are the one exception I make to that.

That said, here is a list of books I would not sell under any circumstances. I'd rather eat nothing but rice and beans for a month and take part in shady paid medical studies.

1.) Modern American Poetry, Modern British Poetry; Combined Edition, edited by Louis Untermeyer. Originally published in 1942. I inherited this from my maternal grandmother. It's a hefty volume at 1218 pages, but is such a great reference for poems published before WWII. It's one of two things I have that could be considered family heirlooms.

2.) Adios Barbie: Young Women Write About Body Image and Identity, edited by Ophelia Edut. Published in 1998, when third wave feminism was seriously beginning to stretch its muscles, it contains essays by Lisa Jervis, Nomy Lamm, and Rebecca Walker. It was given to me by a teacher at my weird little alternative high school when I was fifteen. It was the first time I'd ever been introduced to transgender issues, fat acceptance, or the pro-sex movement. It was also the first time I'd really thought in depth about anorexia, disability, racism (grew up in the second whitest state in the Union, by the way), and sexual politics from a feminist point of view. Coming at that time in my life, its effect was enormous. Not to mention lasting.

3.) A Treasury Of Great Science Fiction, edited by Anthony Boucher. Originally published in 1959. As I recall, I bought this at a library sale in Williamstown, Vermont, with my first boyfriend. It's still got the poodle sticker the librarians stuck on the inside flap to show it was for sale. I was fourteen. This has short stories by Ray Bradbury, Robert Heinlein, and Phillip K. Dick in it, and an excellent novella by John Wyndham.

4.) The Complete Hothead Paisan by Diane DiMassa. Another relic of my burgeoning teenage feminism. While I disagree with some of it - namely, the semi-pointless violence - it manages to counter-balance itself. Yes, the title character is homicidal psychopathic lesbian. But the two supporting characters are both pacifists, and are trying to get her to evolve. Hothead is not shown to be in the right, and violence is repeatedly shown to solve nothing in the end.
If there is a main theme in the story's arc, I don't know what it is. I do know that reading the misadventures a crazed, mohawked dyke helped get me through some seriously crappy times when I was younger.

5.) Transmetropolitan, comic series by Warren Ellis and Darick Robertson. Spider Jerusalem is my kind of hero; bald, ballsy, chaotic, and batshit insane. Oh yes, and he's a journalist. The character is based on Hunter S. Thompson, the setting is some distant point in a hedonistic future, and all of the stories are completely relevant. Patrick Stewart summed it up best in his intro to the fifth volume:

"I think, however, I can say this: I know this City, I have read The Word, I have listened to these politicians, I have smelt the stink of greed, I have thrown stuff at the TV, I have wondered what future there is for Truth and Beauty."

It's satiric science fiction at its best, basically: fiercely questioning the present through an exploration of a possible future.

6.) Truly Unusual Soups by Lu Lockwood. Second edition published in 1983. My sister gave this to me as a Christmas present my first year in college, when my entire repertoire of cooking was limited to three different kinds of soup. Highlights from Ms. Lockwood include "Jellied Cucumber Soup", "Mama's Fruit Soup", "Peanut Butter Soup", and my personal favorite: "Flaming Cheese Soup".

Thank you and goodnight.

I work in a Big Corporate Bookstore. This isn't as bad as one would think, really. Yes, it's retail, and retail does indeed kill your soul off in wee pieces.

(And yes, I'm anti-consumer culture, if you couldn't tell.)

It's got its downside. Usually at least once a day, I get a customer that looks at me like I'm the idiot when they say, "I'm looking for this book, don't remember the title or author, but it was about dieting and the cover is white and it was on Good Morning America last week..."
Or the belligerent preteens who think they're really slick shoplifting crap manga...
Or the annoying Momzillas who read Cosmo while their kids chew on the picture books...
Or the glaring conservatives who look down their noses at me (femmestached, messy-haired, dykey Harry Potter lookalike dressed in clothes from Good Will) while buying tripe by Pat Buchanon or Anne Coulter or Glenn Beck...

But it's got its good points too. For every one of the demonspawn customers, there's a regular who chats with you while comparing Elmore Leonard to Raymond Chandler. There's the kids who are polite and happy when you can give them the next book in the series they're obssessed with. There's the ancient couples that pull you into their literary arguments. There's the adorably shy students asking for poetry by Mary Oliver or Pablo Neruda. Best of all, there's the people who ask for your recommendations, and actually listen to you.

In the last nine months, I've found myself falling back into the literary habits I had before college. I'm reading 4-5 books at a time, finishing some in weeks and others in hours. I've found myself staying up until 3am to finish a novel. I'm trying new authors, series, and genres that I never touched before. Mostly, I'm having a great time.

It's a good habit. So I thought I'd start to share it. I'll be doing reviews and recommendations in this blog, with added geekery on authors and sub-genres and pretty much anything else I can think of relating to books.