Or, more reasons why the Internet killed books.
Getting Bookish: Reading ‘Purple Hibiscus’
In keeping with my resolution to read more books with physical pages (#ProjectNoScrolling), I finished Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s novel Purple Hibiscus. Yay, me! I enjoyed the book immensely. You should definitely pick it up if you haven’t read it. Here are my takeaways:
The Skinny
Kamibili Achike, the 15 year old Nigerian protagonist, narrates the novel, which explores the changes in her family after she and her brother stay with their aunt for a few weeks. The major themes concern religiosity, nationalism, and healing from abuse.
The “Oh, @#%$” Moment
My writing teacher once relayed an old saying, “For the reader to cry, the writer must cry.” In other words, good writing affects the writer as much as it does the reader. I don’t know how Adichie pushed herself to write extremely painful passages depicting physical abuse. At one point, I literally closed my eyes and folded the book, spine up. I couldn’t read beyond that sentence for a good day or so.
The More You Know
I absolutely loved that Adichie peppered her writing with Igbo language and cultural tradition. This may seem like a no-brainer for a novel set in Nigeria, but I value writing that allows authentic insight into the struggles other nationalities. The author chose the setting of Nigeria on the brink of upheaval and captured with frightening detail the atrocities that happen post-military coup. She did an excellent job of illustrating how the abnormal becomes normal (like kidnappings), yet never quite settles into the bones. It piqued my curiosity about Nigerian politics, of which I know embarrassingly little.
What’s Next?
I am sticking with reading the lot of Adichie’s books for the time being. I picked up The Thing Around Your Neck, her collection of short stories. I rarely read short stories, so this is a foray into new territory for me.
By the way, last week the black film blog Shadow and Act (which is seriously dope and informative; you should follow them, rightnow!) posted a trailer of the film adaptation for Adichie’s book, Half of a Yellow Sun. The movie is starring my film crush, Chiwetel Ejiofor, Anika Noni Rose, and Thandie Newton. I’m a little too excited about it! But this means I absolutely have to read the book first! Let’s hope I make it!
What reads are you Getting Bookish with these days?
Doing a Good Job with Hands is Not a Hand Job
Doing a Good Job with Hands is Not a Hand Job
If you write and struggle to find new ways to describe ordinary things, this article by The Onion should crack you up.
What, Exactly, is ‘Awesomesauce?’
I’m just going to come right out and say it: I have a vocab crush on the word “awesome.” It’s pretty, well, AWESOME! Something about that open first “ahhhh” syllable and the hissing finality of the last syllable speaks to me, like jumping out of an airplane and landing on your feet, arms akimbo, with no parachute. Which, admit it, would be pretty flipping awesome!
The word has cousins! If you need a sparkly noun, whip out “awesomeness” and watch it do its work. Then you have its Internet-dubbed superlative, “awesomesauce,” which ostensibly is made up of everything “awesome” ever could be, but, like, to infinity and beyond.
I have been guilty of overusing the word for some time now, but I only just realized it yesterday. My epiphany went a little like this:
Me, 11:25 am on Facebook: My mom is kinda awesome!
Me, 11:28 am on Facebook: Wow, you got a new job?! Awesomeness!
Me, 11:35 am on Facebook: It would be awesome if I could do awesome things with awesome people and just be awesome all the time.
Wait…did I just use awesome four times in the same sentence? I DID! That’s awesome!
Okay, okay, I’ll stop now. (Evil Grin). Henceforth, I will refer to “awesome” as the A-word, so no one throws tomatoes at their screen. I would love to blame my attachment to the A-word on the Internet, like I do most of my vices, but that would be an easy out. The truth is, I haven’t devoted much time to improving my word bank for terms that accurately express happiness. The A-word filled a void I didn’t know I had.
I fear that by slapping the A-word on every situation that so much as tickles me, I will have deadened its true potential. (Oops too late; according to this site, the definition has been watered down to a colloquial puddle since 1961). Obviously, the root word is “awe.” Frankly, most of the circumstances that inspire me to use the A-word do not merit a reflective hush, widened eyes, or stark wonder. “Great” or “cool” would probably suffice. But back when I abandoned “cool,” the A-word seemed like a good idea at the time!
Also, I know that expanding the words I say often will make me a better writer and editor.
I suppose, then, it’s time I go trawling the online Thesaurus for suitable replacements. That’s right, I said replacements, plural. Because as much as I want it to, every thing in life can’t be awesome. There are just too many words in the world for that.
So, what’s your word crutch? Do you have any substitutes I can use in place of “awesome?”
***My awesomesauce would consist of mango, cilantro, lime, red onions, black beans, and strawberries. Because I’m awesome like that.
Netflix is the New Cable
About three years ago, as part of my Frugal Frannie regimen to send my husband off to grad school, I killed my cable and went all-Netflix. We currently stream through our trusty PlayStation 3 console. We had both the streaming and the DVD option until about two months ago, when we realized we would hold a DVD for weeks before returning it. Since a lot of cable programs broadcast tinny reality shows and I can wait til a movie streams to watch it, I miss neither the Netflix DVD option, nor cable.
With the exception of HBO. I could wax poetic about my love for HBO Original Programming! (The Wire is my favorite television series, and according to Entertainment Weekly, it is the greatest TV show of all time/ ever known to man/ in the history of television/ point blank period/ don’t argue with me.) HBO shows do great things with characterization, invoking the spirit of a city, dialogue, nuance…basically, they write great stories.
Imagine my surprise when, a few months back, Netflix presented House of Cards, a political drama centering on an ambitious journalist and an avaricious politician. Like Oreos and milk, those two. I loved the show, which had me binge watching it over a weekend, perched on the edge of the couch at midnight. The company also gave us Hemlock Grove. I’m pretty squeamish, so I elected to just read all the spoilers about yet another vampire/werewolf grotesque fantasy show.
I am pacing myself (no binge-watching!) with Netflix’s newest offering, Orange is the New Black, simply because It. Is. So. Good. A yuppie New York woman finds herself in prison for a year based on some Dirt She Did When She Was Young. I’ll be honest and say that the main character, Piper Chapman, is tangential for me. The real boon of this series are the women who populate the prison and the scenes with such life. They are neither one-dimensional, nor so outrageously caricatured that the show loses credibility. They humanize people. Plus, the dialogue is golden! The aspects of comedy do not cheapen the drama that is inherent in a prison setting.
If Netflix continues churning out nuggets like OITB, I may not have my seasonal withdrawals for quality television. Now if HBO would just get it together and either put HBO programs on Netflix or offer an a la carte streaming option…my (TV watching) life would be complete.
Have you seen any of the Netflix Original shows? Am I a little too geeked about them?
dara t. mathis 