Sex, Sex, Sex, That's All You Ever Think About!

It's link sharing time again! I think I will need to look for this book at the library... The first link is a review, the link below the book is to Amazon. Ooh, and I just noticed, the foreward is by Margaret Cho, who I have recently become very fond of.

http://www.amazon.com/Fat-Sex-The-Naked-Truth/dp/1475261837

Pull quote from Ragen Chastain's (sort-of) review: "How much more awesome will the sex be when we can get over our single standard of culturally stereotypical beauty and celebrate the simple fact that bodies of all shapes and sizes are amazing, beautiful and sexy."

Remember that post about Fat Ladies in Spaaaaace? I finally got around to coloring one!

The caption reads: "With her sidekick Gusty the unicorn dog, the Zaftig Zephyr spends her nights protecting the rain-spattered streets of Metrololopolis." (Coloring book and art by Nicole Lorenz.)

Sunday Brunch: The Help

Wow, so many people really dislike The Help because it was written by a little white gal in stereotypical black vernacular while none of the white girls spoke in typical southern vernacular. They accuse her of trying to write the next great southern novel of racism, and failing miserably.

Just set all that aside, I think. This is a novel from a white girl, raised in a certain way in the south, left with some unresolved feelings about that childhood, which she chose to explore through fiction. It's just that and nothing more, but engaging and pretty good for all that. No, the dialog isn't perfect. The black women talk like she remembers black women talking and - surprise! - the white women don't have accents because the author talks like that (or at least, once did) and everyone knows that *we all* don't have an accent but *ya'll* do.

Also, I didn't get the impression that the book (or even the movie) was all about "the white woman saves the day again." Skeeter faded out of importance very quickly for me, other than an occasional reminder that she was the one typing up the manuscript. The real story was about Aibileen and Minnie - their lives and the real danger they were in for sharing their stories. Skeeter might have gotten the ball rolling, but she wouldn't have had a story at all if not for Aibileen. Skeeter was just there as a way to connect the real author and the novel with white readers. Did you ever see this many white women running around carrying The Color Purple and forcing all of their friends to read it?

I enjoyed this book immensely. It kept me up late at night, it transported me to another place and time, and made me care about the people there. It did what it was supposed to do - provided an escape - what more can you ask of popular fiction?

Sunday Brunch: Salmon of Doubt

A few days ago, May 25th, was Towel Day, celebrating the life and work of Douglas Adams, author of the fabulous Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy series and other funny stuff, including the essay collection, Salmon of Doubt which I want to share with you today.

And why towels and Towel Day, you might ask? Here’s what the Hitchhiker’s Guide has to say about it:

“A towel, it says, is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have. Partly it has great practical value...

More importantly, a towel has immense psychological value. For some reason, if a strag (strag: non-hitchhiker) discovers that a hitchhiker has his towel with him, he will automatically assume that he is also in possession of a toothbrush, face flannel, soap, tin of biscuits, flask, compass, map, ball of string, gnat spray, wet weather gear, space suit etc., etc. Furthermore, the strag will then happily lend the hitchhiker any of these or a dozen other items that the hitchhiker might accidentally have "lost". What the strag will think is that any man who can hitch the length and breadth of the galaxy, rough it, slum it, struggle against terrible odds, win through, and still knows where his towel is is clearly a man to be reckoned with.”

So there you have it - Adams was a man who always knew where his towel was (probably). So, on Towel Day, I always think about a thing that someone once mentioned on a blog I visit frequently, that it's a real shame that Douglas Adams is gone, for many reasons, of course, but not the least of which is that he'd have had a hell of a blog. A blog which she - and I - would dearly have loved to be reading right now.


Douglas Adams didn't have a blog, but he did write freelance articles for magazines as well as a regular column for The Independent (a London paper). Some of the best of these various articles plus some short stories and the rough beginning of a Dirk Gently novel are compiled here in the wonderful Salmon of Doubt.

You don't have to like funny science fiction or any science fiction at all to enjoy this one. He covers travel, strange men in smelly rhinoceros suits, swimming with (or at least near) manta rays, the Beatles, Procol Harum, technology in general, Macs in particular, and the life of being a writer completely hopeless at meeting deadlines. Yes, there's bits about Hitchhiker's, naturally. It's also a handy reference for making a perfect cup of British tea, in case that's something you ever find yourself likely to do.

Most of the articles are quite short, so it's a good book to take along when you know you'll have only moments to sit and read. The paperback fits nicely into a small purse or backpack for easy carry. (Though I imagine the audio version is wonderful as well, for I'm certain they got someone with a lovely British voice to do the reading.)

I really enjoyed this little book and found myself laughing out loud about something on almost every page. If you need a giggle, or a really good cup of tea, give the Salmon of Doubt a try sometime.

And do keep your towel handy!
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Sunday Brunch: Brave New World

Sure, it's an oldie, and almost everyone who might be interested in it has probably already read it. But, if you haven't, go do it right now!

I first decided to re-read Brave New World a couple of years ago after something in an old New York Times article reminded me of it. It was "Dumb and Dumber: Are Americans Hostile to Knowledge?" And there was a line that struck me, reminding me of BNW:

"Not only are citizens ignorant about essential scientific, civic and cultural knowledge... but they also don’t think it matters."

That's pure BNW, folks.

I am ever more convinced that this book is truly representative of our times, more so than Orwell's 1984. After all, why go to the expense and trouble of policing and spying on your citizens with Big Brother when you can simply anesthetize them with TV, Prozac, infotainment, alcohol, and Jersey Shore? Get them so focused on non-issues like birth control, the fat “epidemic”, gay marriage, and celebrity death that they don't have any interest in the business as usual corruption of politics or some country they've never heard of murdering and raping its citizens. It's boring, after all, and takes too much effort to actually think about something rather than letting CNN or FOX tell you what to think. We don't really need to be policed and spied on because we simply do not care about government, politics, or the idea that history repeats endlessly when the people allow themselves to become numb and dumb. Let me have my SOMA and Bravo TV, please, I'm not interested in how a dictatorship is born.

So, yes, some of Brave New World will seem a bit dated to modern eyes. The people seem quaint and stuck in a sort of 1940's innocence that we no longer possess. It was written in 1932, after all. It projects the plastic fantastic and hovercar world that the 1940's thought we'd have by the 21st century. The speech seems antiquated, but that isn't insurmountable. But Huxley's view of "the future" still feels on target, even if it did arrive about 500 years sooner than he expected - well, okay, we probably won't have the hovercars until then, but boy do we have the sex and the SOMA and the mindless entertainment and the lack of interest in intellectualism and hedonistic consumerism and the idea that we are supposed to Always Be Happy, Dammit.

Read it if you haven't. Read it again if you have. Welcome to your future.

Sunday Brunch: The Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Series

Okay, so last week zombies, this week, more undead: vampires, zombies again, and other supernatural creepy crawlies. I promise, this isn't a pattern...

I'm going to sort of review the bulk of the series all at once here, because I can't wholeheartedly recommend Laurell K. without a few reservations about the way the series has turned lately. Let's start with the good stuff! Anita Blake is a fantastic heroine. She starts out pretty one dimensional - the beautiful tough chick with a chip on her shoulder - but Laurell K. puts in the work, allowing Anita to change and grow - some things for the better, some things for the worse. She isn't precisely the Anti-hero, but she's got enough darkness to make her interesting. Her supporting cast is full of varied and interesting beings, who don't develop quite so much, though the sheer number of her supporting cast certainly grows.

Plot? Well, here's where things get wonky. The first several books are paranormal mysteries, really. Anita works as a consultant for a police task force charged to investigate supernatural crimes. Murders by or of vampires and other monsters, for instance. There's also this important subplot about Anita being a necromancer, just to keep things interesting. This part of the series is just plain fun. Mystery, horror, mythology, the counterplay of Anita's "normal" life and her "paranormal" life. The series is well written (okay, Laurell K. isn't Emily Dickinson, but she isn't Jackie Collins, either), and exciting - can't wait to get to the next one exciting. There is, even from book one (Guilty Pleasures), a lot of sexual tension, and eventually, a whole lot of sex. A. Whole. Lot. of. Sex.

And here's where things break down. I can totally get behind the first nine books in the series, even with the ever-increasing porn. (And hey, nine books is a good, long series - you could stop there and feel like you've done your duty by Laurell K., and that she'd done her job as an author.) In fact, as an aside, book 9 (Obsidian Butterfly) is amazingly good and is a slight departure from the rest of the series - Anita leaves town to lend a helping hand to a "friend" of hers, Edward, upon whom the story largely focuses. Edward is a true Antihero. Edward is a Bad Man. It's brilliant, and possibly the best book in the series - and notably, the one with the least sex.

There are at least three, maybe now four, more books in the series. I know that I read three more after Obsidian Butterfly. But these last few books have been... disappointing. I didn't even bother to find out about any new releases, which is why I don't know if the series is up to 13 or 14 or even 15 books now. Now, I'm no prude, certainly, and I really enjoyed the sensuality of many of the early books (really... really, really...umm, nevermind...) But I do like some PLOT with the porn. There used to be plot. I really miss that. Where has the plot gone, Laurell K? I loved the mysteries, I loved believing that Anita and the gang could actually be in danger from time to time. Now they have already defeated creatures so vast and powerful that nothing on the planet would dare challenge them.

Somebody let me know when Anita remembers to put her pants back on and gets back to participating in a story.

Sunday Brunch: World War Z

I have (another) confession to make. I am a huge geek. Yep, hundreds of Star Wars viewings, midnight showings of every Harry Potter movie, I own a corset and I’ve actually worn it to Renaissance fairs, and I stood in line at a sci-fi convention to meet Wil Wheaton. I have worn a Jedi knight costume, and not on Halloween. I have sat around tables with other geeks at midnight, eating pizza and Twizzlers and rolling dice and pretending to kill orcs and dire wolves. I also read like a geek.

I first discovered Max Brooks and his zombies a couple of years ago. We had some friends over to watch the Night of the Living Dead remake, and... well, basically, zombies are my Thing. That thing that really, really scares the (un)living daylights out of me. Vampires... meh! Demons... meh! Toothy aliens... meh! I've been reading Stephen King since the 5th grade, so there isn't much that gets to me, you see. Except zombies.

So, after a nervous night with the nightlight on, I come home from work to find my beloved had gotten me a gift: Max Brooks' first book, The Zombie Survival Guide: Complete Protection from the Living Dead. Since then I have found my zombie-bashing courage and have been able to enjoy a range of zombie-related entertainment. You can imagine my excitement when I heard that Brooks had released a new book. It is World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War.

Okay, ready for the review? This book is SO GOOD. Need I say more? All right: I stayed up reading until I fell asleep from exhaustion two nights in a row because I didn't want to stop reading. I foisted this book off on everyone I knew - B read it just after I did, and next it went to co-workers. I kept sneaking back to the book to read the bits before and after B’s bookmark, so that I could see where he was in the tale.

The concept of the book is that it is a series of interviews with people who survived the zombie apocalypse, organized in a way which tell the tale from the first known zombie infections to the ultimate all out war against the zombie horde. Yes, the typical zombie tropes are there, there's no new or innovative zombie lore (except for perhaps a description of the mechanism that causes the undead to assemble). And the reader already knows the outcome of the war from the very first page, or the description on the back of the book. None of these things are surprising. What is wonderful is that Brooks manages to take a slew of stock characters and stereotypes and turn them into living, fascinating characters with merely a paragraph long introduction and three to five pages of dialogue. Just dialogue. He transmits everything through the character's speech, the words they choose, when they pause, what they choose to talk about. It's just brilliant.

A movie is being made of this book (possibly due July 2013) but, unlike the Hunger Games movie, I'm not so much looking forward to it. It seems that they might be turning it into a single point-of-view story with Brad Pitt as the dashing hero who saves the world. Okay fine, I like Brad and that's typical zombie movie plotting, but that's not WWZ. If you think you might see the movie, I really recommend reading the book first.

(On a side note, often you CAN watch the movie first and try the book later, when both are well done. I saw the movie for Eat, Pray, Love first and thoroughly enjoyed it, and then thought the book was even better. I watched Water for Elephants first, which seemed like the better way to go, because my sister groused at the screen the entire time about how they were doing it wrong... but I liked the movie well enough, and then enjoyed the book too, shortly thereafter. I just don't see this being the case with WWZ. The book is so varied and deep, and it's the individual characters that make the book shine. Focusing on one “hero” and making the others into supporting characters seems a real shame to me.

If you give it a try, come back and let me know what you think!

Sunday Brunch: Good in Bed

I'm a writer, but I'm also a reader, so periodically I'd like to share some of the books I've been reading. It's been a long time since I worked in a bookstore, but the thing I really miss is introducing people to new authors they haven't tried before, then having them come back to share their impressions of it. Or, huddling together to squee over a particularly fantastic book we'd both read already. So, if you're out there, feel free to jump in and share with me about your favorites. I'm always looking for something new and wonderful!

The first book in my Sunday Brunch series is Good in Bed, by Jennifer Weiner.

Good in Bed was not the first Jennifer Weiner book that I read. I actually read In Her Shoes first, the one that was later made into a not-bad/not-great movie. (And yes it pretty much pissed me off that they cast skinny little Toni Collette as the "fat" sister - not that I have a problem with Toni Collette herself or that she’s a thin person. But the character was supposed to be FAT. It was central to her character development and Toni is so...not that.)

But I digress! I liked Good in Bed much better than In her Shoes. After these two, though, the author delved ever further into exploring motherhood lit rather than fat chick lit and I wasn't as interested. However, she writes a darn good book, so if you're into the whole having babies thing, the rest of her books are probably perfectly swell.

So, there's chick lit - The Devil Wears Prada, and that sort of thing - but for the rest of us there's fat chick lit, too. Jennifer Weiner is definitely one of the better voices in fat chick lit and I really recommend Good in Bed. It was funny and sad and very touching. JW definitely understands how it feels to be a large woman trying to find acceptance and love. Maybe her heroines are a bit too "Friends" for my tastes, sometimes... in other words, nobody I know really lives that kind of life, and, even if the heroine is a fat chick, she's one that "passes" for attractive.

The first bit that really, really sucked me in was JW's hook (as it should!) which was the heroine, Cannie, reading an article in a magazine that just happened to be written by her ex-boyfriend... about her... about why he loved a fat woman. About why he couldn't be with her any more. This excerpt is from the first chapter, the entirety of which can be found online at JW's website:

Her shoulders were as broad as mine, her hands were almost as big, and from her breasts to her belly, from her hips down the slope of her thighs, she was all sweet curves and warm welcome. Holding her felt like a safe haven. It felt like coming home... But I know that if it were possible — if all the slouching and slumping and shapeless black jumpers — could have erased her from the physical world, she would have gone in an instant. She took no pleasure from the very things I loved, from her size, her amplitude, her luscious, zaftig heft.

As many times as I told her she was beautiful, I know that she never believed me. As many times as I said it didn’t matter, I knew that to her it did, and it always would. I was just one voice, and the world’s voice was louder. I could feel her shame like a palpable thing, walking beside us on the street, crouched down between us in a movie theater, coiled up and waiting for someone to say what to her was the dirtiest word in the world: fat.
And I knew it wasn’t paranoia. You hear, over and over, how fat is the last acceptable prejudice, that fat people are the only safe targets in our politically correct world. Date a queen-sized woman and you’ll find out how true it is. You’ll see the way people look at her, and look at you for being with her. You’ll try to buy her lingerie for Valentine’s Day and realize the sizes stop before she starts. Every time you go out to eat you’ll watch her agonize, weighing what she wants against what she’ll let herself have, what she’ll let herself have against what she’ll be seen eating in public.And what she’ll let herself say...

Loving a larger woman is an act of courage in this world, and maybe it’s even an act of futility. Because, in loving C., I knew I was loving someone who didn’t believe that she herself was worthy of anyone’s love. "

Time for tissue in the fat chick camp...