Now that Valentine's Day is over, I'm ready to start pinning green things for St. Patrick's Day, but it's pretty early. So...books. Y'know, my usual obsession.
Did anybody else read Where the Lilies Bloom in grade school? I remember it being pretty good - kinda like Katniss Everdeen's life minus the Hunger Games - which is to say, turn-of-the-century rural Appalachian. I need to reread this.
I read this circa 4th grade-ish. I don't intend to reread it, but I do think that Shane-Marian Starrett was the first fictional character pair I ever shipped, long before I knew what shipping was.
I want to reread this some time in 2013. I read it in high school and all I really remember is the loss of virginity scene, which is perfectly consensual yet physically traumatic.
I also intend to tackle Middlemarch in 2013. My annotated Jane Eyre said that if I enjoyed Jane Eyre, I would also like Middlemarch. Let's hope so. I already bought this paperback version at Barnes and Noble.
I also need to get this one. Even though I didn't love Jane Eyre Laid Bare, I'm perfectly willing to give it a chance.
First I saw this on Tumblr, posted by the artist who created it, Katie C. Turner.
Then I bought the magazine it was published in.
Debbie Stoller, the editor of Bust, titled her letter from the editor "Fifty Shades of WTF." It says what I think may be the smartest thing yet written about E. L. James and her Fifty Shades series:
"Millions of (mostly) ladies bought the titillating title, and almost as many folks mocked them for it, disdainfully pointing out that the book was badly written. But I mean, c'mon - nobody bought FSOG to stimulate what's between their ears; they bought it to stimulate what's between their legs. And I think it's that fact - that women (some of them middle aged!) spent money on something just to help them rub one out - that's rubbing people the wrong way. After all, nobody criticizes porn - a multibillion dollar that still caters mainly to men - for having crappy cinematography. We just assume that men, no matter their age or percentage of body fat, have sexual appetites that need to be fed. But when it comes to women, we seem to have confused the idea of 'being sexy' with 'being sexual' to such an extent that the idea of possibly unsexy women looking for a turn-on is as laughable as a monkey shopping at Ikea."
Now I'm looking forward to reading Carrie's Story by Molly Weatherfield (a.k.a. Pam Rosenthal). So far I've read Tristan Taormino's foreword, which says:
"Today, it seems no one can talk about a BDSM novel - hell, we can't talk about any erotic fiction - without invoking Fifty Shades of Grey. Carrie's Story was written decades before Fifty Shades, and it surpasses it on nearly every level. But one difference in particular stands out: Carrie's Story is about a submissive female heroine with a brain!"
Well, I contend that Ana Steele has a brain, but just belongs to a long romance novel tradition of very innocent, inexperienced female protagonists - but that's a story for another day. (This one.) Still, I think I will like Carrie's Story.
But nobody spoil Fifty Shades Freed for me. I haven't read it yet.