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Book review: In the Shadow of Blackbirds

14 Thursday Jan 2016

Posted by wyndes in Books, Reviews

≈ 4 Comments

Book Description from Goodreads:

In the Shadow of Blackbirds, by Cat Winters:

In 1918, the world seems on the verge of apocalypse. Americans roam the streets in gauze masks to ward off the deadly Spanish influenza, and the government ships young men to the front lines of a brutal war, creating an atmosphere of fear and confusion. Sixteen-year-old Mary Shelley Black watches as desperate mourners flock to séances and spirit photographers for comfort, but she herself has never believed in ghosts. During her bleakest moment, however, she’s forced to rethink her entire way of looking at life and death, for her first love—a boy who died in battle—returns in spirit form. But what does he want from her?

Featuring haunting archival early-twentieth-century photographs, this is a tense, romantic story set in a past that is eerily like our own time.

******
I’m never going to write historical fiction. The closest I will ever come is fantasy in a historical setting so that when people tell me all the things I got wrong, I can shrug and say, “Fantasy, remember?”

I suppose technically this author could say the same thing, because she’s writing a book where ghosts exist. But I was the PITA reader seriously bugged by the details. She has her main character describe as scene as surreal. In 1918? The surrealists didn’t start painting until the 1930s. Before then, the word didn’t exist. She excuses a sneeze as allergies. That term was invented in 1906 in Europe, so pretty unlikely to have been in widespread use in 1918 Portland.

Most troublesome to me was that she paints the flu epidemic in San Diego as being apocalyptic in scope, with corpses lying in the street. A quick internet search reveals that 202 people total died of the flu in San Diego out of over 3000 who fell sick in a city of over 70,000 people. That’s … a somewhat unexciting apocalypse.

I did keep reading, but I definitely never became immersed. Instead, I kept leaving the book and looking up random facts on the internet. I guess that makes it an educational read!

The flu epidemic information was the most bothersome — we now know that the pandemic was incredibly devastating and killed millions of people, but people didn’t know that at the time. The epidemic is historically fascinating (to me) not because of the widespread destruction but because in so many places, people were so innocent — newspapers buried the stories about it, people scoffed at the recommendations to wear masks, and by the time they really started to understand the severity, it was almost over. The second burst of the flu, where most of the deaths occurred, actually only lasted for a couple months. Imagine the AIDS epidemic in ultra high speed. I feel like the flu pandemic is actually a lot more interesting than the stereotype of a pandemic in this story, but the story was really more about spiritualism and photography and WWI, so I’m probably being overly picky.

The story overall — lots of vivid smells and tastes, interesting research and information despite inaccuracies, a classic “not like other girls” heroine, a grim mystery with an ending that I did not see coming, and I finished it despite my regular departures to the internet to question the historical accuracy of the details. (The internet failed to tell me when children began being told to share their toys but I really, truly, seriously doubt whether it was much before the 1950s.)

Read via Overdrive.

Uprooted by Naomi Novik

10 Thursday Dec 2015

Posted by wyndes in Books, Grace, Personal, Reviews

≈ 12 Comments

First of all, switching computers and operating systems and browsers and absolutely everything — I even have only one trackpad button now, instead of two — is really disorienting. But I love my new little computer. The battery life is incredible and the keyboard is clicketty perfection. Okay, not quite perfection — I keep getting a 1 when I try to get an !, but apart from that, it works really well and feels great.

Writing-wise it’s sort of interesting — the screen is so small that I can really only see a few lines at a time as I write. It makes it hard to assess the flow, but it also feels like I’m starting to write faster, because I’m not spending all my time being critical of the words I’ve already written. They disappear so fast that I don’t have the chance to stare at them gloomily.

However, my writing got horribly negatively affected this week when the library delivered Naomi Novik’s Uprooted to my Overdrive shelf. I was on the waiting list and it was finally my turn. I’m feeling slightly guilty right now that I haven’t returned it so that the next person on the waiting list can have her chance, but I haven’t yet, because I keep wanting to just drop into that world again for a little visit. I loved it so much. I’ve read other books by Novik — I think I read maybe the first three books of her very long Tremaire series? I enjoyed them but not enough to keep going when I reached the end of the series that had been written when I first started. I hate trying to remember what happened in a series that I haven’t read for a year so I often let series go. But this book was nothing like those books.

It’s a fairy tale mix of… oh, Robin McKinley and Patrick Rothfuss and Suzanne Collins and … someone grim and bloody and someone magical and stubborn. Maybe it is its own thing entirely? After I fell in love with it, I listened to the Sword & Laser podcast about it and then read a Slate review of it. One of the things that both of those sources pointed out was that it’s almost a trilogy in one book: a coming-of-age tale with a fantastic heroine where for the first third, she’s learning in a classic Beauty and the Beast scenario, and in the second third, she’s off to the city in a Mercedes Lackey/Patrick Rothfuss watch-out-for-the-evil-peers story, and in the last third, she is engaged in epic battles to save her home, ala people that I don’t read because I’m not so much an epic battle sort of reader. (And wasn’t THAT quite the run-on sentence.) The Slate review criticized that, suggesting that it would have been better as three books, but I totally disagreed — this is an all-things-in-one, breakneck speed, completely engrossing read. For me, it was perfect.

Well, pretty close to perfect. On a second read, I started to quibble with some things. (What happened to the wolves? Where did they come from and why were they never seen again? Why didn’t the obnoxious girl get transformed into a toad? Seriously, on what planet is tilting her headpiece a year’s worth of humiliation for someone that bitchy? Also holy cow, there are a lot of dead people by the end — I’m not sure I’ve ever loved a book that was quite so bloody.) BUT! None of those things remotely occurred to me on my first read and really mostly I just loved it to death. So much so that as soon as I finished, I went back to the beginning and started again and since then, I’ve been dipping in and out of it at regular opportunities. And worst of all, my night-time and morning day-dreaming — the moments when I’m half-awake and story is unfolding before my eyes, words drifting into my imagination — all those moments are being stolen by Novik’s world. *sigh*

I should really return this book to the library right now and try to forget all about it. Noah needs to finish his confrontation with Lucas and Akira needs to get back from her honeymoon. But you, on the other hand, you, dear reader, should promptly put your name on your library’s hold list. I’ve added the book to my Amazon wishlist and someday after I make it through the holidays, after I finish writing a couple books of my own, I’m going to be buying my own copy of Uprooted so that I can read it until the pixels wear out. (Thank God they never do!)

And oh, bah, I was actually going to write the story of my Christmas tree, but I’m out of time. Oh, well. I have a Christmas tree. It feels magical. It’s not really decorated yet, but I feel a decided glow of happiness when I think about it that matches the glow of its lights.

Christmas tree

The ever elusive last swimming day

21 Saturday Nov 2015

Posted by wyndes in Books, NaNo

≈ 2 Comments

November 20th. Maybe.

All week long, I was pretty convinced that swimming was over for the year. I’m not sure I even stuck a toe in the water. But yesterday the sun was shining, the air was hot… so yep, swimming on November 20th. Real swimming, floating, playing ball with the dogs for a solid two hours. It made me remember why I love living in Florida.

Today, though, has been a weird day. I’m not sure why my schedule is so skewed, but I woke up, did the normal morning stuff, came back to the bedroom to get my Saturday chores started — strip the bed, laundry, etc. — and thought, wow, I’m so tired, I’m just going to crawl back in bed for twenty minutes and think about what comes next in Grace before I get started.

I woke up at one o’clock. One! In the afternoon! I suppose it would have been worse if it had been one in the morning, but I have no idea why I suddenly needed four extra hours of sleep. The day’s been off ever since. I still haven’t done the morning chores, didn’t make it to the library, haven’t cleaned up the kitchen and it’s now almost 8PM and I’m finally writing my blog post. I haven’t written a word of Grace.

I did read an enjoyable Amazon First book, though: The Short Drop. If you’re a Prime member and you haven’t yet chosen your free book for the month of November, I recommend this one. I haven’t had a lot of luck with those books — some months, in fact, I haven’t even bothered to download one because I’ve grown so dubious about them. But this one was pretty solid. My sister called while I was in the middle of it and after a couple minutes on the phone with her, I had to say, “Sorry, even though I’m pretty sure it’s totally obvious why the missing kid went missing, I need to keep reading.” It dragged a little in parts and I skimmed some, and a bunch of the so-called plot twists were obvious from the beginning, but it was an entertaining way to spend an afternoon. Technically, for me, it means I again fell into the trap of reading fiction at breakfast, although it was almost 2 when I started. I still intended to only read a little bit and then get to work, but five hours later, yeah, not so much.

Ooh, and that thing I just did — the “yeah, not so much” — it’s called a contranym. The “yeah” in that context doesn’t mean what it ought to mean. I read a great article, What Part of “No, Totally” Don’t You Understand? in The New Yorker about contranyms, and I love the concept.

A dog with an extremely dirty face is sitting next to me looking pleading. I’m not sure what she wants, but I should go see. And then I should start writing the words that count. 🙂

DNFs

17 Tuesday Nov 2015

Posted by wyndes in Books, NaNo, Randomness, Reviews

≈ 4 Comments

I have a tickle in my throat that will not quit this morning. I keep coughing, clearing my throat, blowing my nose, slowly sipping water — but there it lurks, a little itch somewhere low in my right… something. Is the throat made up of parts? The sinuses must connect somehow, right? But that’s the spot, I suspect — right where the sinuses join the throat — and no way for me to scratch. Except to keep trying to clear my throat. The dogs are not sure they approve.

So in a comment on the last post, Carol* asked:

Question — have you ever been turned off by a book to the point where you quit reading it? I get the feeling that you did just that with the Shinn book you just reviewed. Do you ever feel guilty about it and hang onto the book, telling yourself you’ll give it another chance some time in the future? Or do you just pass it along or donate it?

I love this question! First, though, I definitely didn’t do that with either of the Shinn books. She’s such a good writer that even when I have issues with a story for one reason or another, I keep reading. It’s why I risked the hardcover purchases — not a risk so much because of the price, which was excellent, but because I don’t really like keeping books made with paper anymore. I don’t want the clutter. If I let myself go, I would have a house filled with bookshelves, overflowing with books, accumulating dust. Instead, I try to keep my bookshelves limited to only books that are keepers, that I loved enough that I will reread again and again, or that are meaningful to me for some other reasons. I’ve read some of the books on my keeper shelves dozens of times. Sharon Shinn’s got plenty of books on my keeper shelves and The Turning Season will join them. She writes so beautifully, even when I want to object to elements of the story. Plus, it’s a really hopeful book and sometimes that’s what I’m looking for in a reread. Yes, it’s on the bleak side, but a reminder to search for blessings in the midst of sorrow is not a bad message.

But I didn’t mean to write more about that book — instead I wanted to answer the DNF question. Yes! I used to persist with every book I picked up. If I started it, I felt obligated to finish it for some reason. As if the book would know that I didn’t like it and have its feelings hurt. I read so many utterly forgettable books that way. But now… now I am merciless. If a book doesn’t grab me or it loses me somewhere along the way, I just stop reading. And I don’t even feel guilty about it anymore. Or at least not very guilty.

At the beginning of 2015, when I decided to really try to track the books I was reading on Goodreads, I also tracked DNFs (Did Not Finish). There was a Kindle Prime book where my review started, “I’m admitting the truth on this one: I’m never going to finish it. I just didn’t like the main character and I don’t want to spend any more time in her head.” and another book that I picked up from the library, where my review included the line, “If it wasn’t a library book, it would sit in my “keep trying” pile forever, but since I had to bring it back, I can admit the truth — it’s a DNF.”

Another one is a pretty perfect example of a DNF review for me. It was Nevada’s Barr’s Destroyer Angel. My review, in full:

4th DNF of the year for me, but I’m not blaming the writing. I have enjoyed Nevada Barr’s books before, so I didn’t look too closely at what the book was about, but this one is more thriller than mystery. Three women, two girls, and a dog are attacked in the woods by a gang of men. When the bad guys first hurt the dog and then debated killing the dog, I realized it was not going to be what I was looking for in a reading experience. I’m sure in the end good triumphed over evil, but the intensity level was not for me. Ironically, one of the bad guys is willing to kill the women but not the dog — I guess he and I have something in common, because I read plenty of books where women get abused, but I apparently had to draw the line at dogs this week.

I actually stopped tracking my DNFs, though, because most often — especially with ebooks — a DNF is either obvious within the first three chapters or falls into that “maybe I’ll try again later”. If it’s obvious right away, I don’t want to leave a review on Goodreads, because it doesn’t seem fair since I haven’t really read the book, and if it’s “maybe later”, I don’t leave the review since, you know, maybe later.

I definitely used to feel much guiltier about not finishing books, though, and I have tried really hard to give up that guilt. The world contains more books than I will ever, ever be able to read, and I figure if I give up on one, I’m making time to read another.

Hmm…you know, I am not going to follow that train of thought out to its logical conclusion, which is that if I give up on writing A Gift of Grace, I’m making time to write something else. I am not giving up. Not, not, not. And so I think I’d best get back to it. But great question, Carol, and thanks for giving me something to write about today!

*Californian Carol, not New Zealand Carol. It’s kind of funny in a blog with half a dozen readers or so that two of you are named Carol. I’ve wondered more than once if I was just confused but since you both commented separately on the same post, I have once and for all concluded that you are two separate people. 🙂

Monday morning

16 Monday Nov 2015

Posted by wyndes in Books, Randomness, Reviews

≈ 4 Comments

I can’t believe it’s mid-November already. Time is speeding by.

And I just stared blankly out the window for a solid three minutes. Do I seriously have nothing more to say than that? This blogging every day thing does pose its own challenges.

How about a book review? Last week, I saw that the hardcover edition of The Turning Season could be had for a penny (plus $3.99 shipping and handling, and sorry, Catsongea, I bet you can’t get the same deal), so I took the plunge. I hadn’t read any of Shinn’s Shifting Circle books because I’d hit my uncertain purchase spot with her right before she started releasing them and they didn’t sound… well, I hadn’t bought them. They sounded bleak, I guess, and I’m not much of a fan of bleak.

So The Turning Season is the story of a shape-shifter, struggling to get by in a world — our world — that is not so friendly to those who are different. But she’s got friends, an ex-lover, clients — enough of a community of people who are either shifters or friendly to shifters that when she changes (randomly, not under her control), people show up to take over her responsibilities. The crux of the story is a gentle love story: she meets a guy, she likes him, he likes her, slowly she lets him into her world, things happen — some bad, some sad — but by the end, they are living happily ever after. Or, more realistically, happily until her early and untimely death, because in this series, shape-shifters die young because of the strain of the shifting on their bodies.

There are parts of the book that didn’t work so well for me. The fact that all shape-shifters are terrified that anyone will find out about their abilities and automatically hide from any chance of discovery is a cliche and not one that I think makes a lot of sense. The fear of the evil government locking up people who are different feels very 1950s to me, the Cold War mentality in action, and I really think that if there were shape-shifters in the world, at least a few of them would head to Hollywood. In the real modern world, if shape-shifters existed, they’d be on Jimmy Fallon and Ellen and all over social media. I think it would have been more plausible that all shape-shifters were terrified of discovery if the world had been a little farther away from this one, if there had been events in history that shaped their ideas of discovery. As it is, they’re all terrified of discovery but every time a new normal character learns about them, the reaction is basically, “Okay, cool.”

In the same vein, all the characters respond in a very similar way to a key event at the end and it didn’t work for me. Without spoiling it… well, no way to explain without spoiling, so I won’t. But ironically, one of the reasons that Shinn stopped being an auto-buy purchase for me is that in one of her previous books (Royal Airs), an ostensibly good character did something I found horrifying — an incredible violation of someone else’s bodily integrity — but it was presented very nonchalantly and didn’t bother the other characters. In this case, a character did something that made a lot of sense to me and all the characters were horrified. Perhaps I’ve lived in Florida too long. Anyway, I can’t explain it without giving a ton away, but it definitely broke me out of the story.

Those things said, though — Sharon Shinn can really, really write. Her work is lovely and lyrical. The characters were a pleasure to spend time with, the world was beautiful. The book is bittersweet, but oh, so moving. And while the story is definitely entertainment — essentially a cozy paranormal romance — it has a message, too. In the words of her narrator “I will start celebrating the gifts life brings me, no matter how bitter, on some days, they seem. And I will never, inside the curse, stop searching for the blessing.”

Worth the read. But now I should get back to writing a book of my own!

Today’s goal — just to get out of this damn scene I’ve been stuck on. I need to quit being all angst-y and just get on with things. But fingers crossed, today will be the day!

Story with a capital S

10 Tuesday Nov 2015

Posted by wyndes in Grace, NaNo, Reviews

≈ 4 Comments

Checking my email first thing this morning and Amazon had sent me a link to a new Sharon Shinn book. Argh! She used to be an auto-buy for me, but I was not so fond of her last few books. This one was $13.99 for the Kindle version. I promptly checked the library but they didn’t have it, nor any sign that they would have it (based on the fact that they didn’t have the two previous books in the series). Dilemma, dilemma, dilemma… but I couldn’t resist. Mostly because I still had money on an Amazon giftcard so it was spending money that couldn’t be used for groceries or the electric bill anyway. My day is therefore starting about four hours later than it should, because I spent them pleasantly reading Jeweled Fire.

And pleasant reading it was. Also, from an aspiring writer perspective, it was interesting to analyze. If it had been written by an author unknown to me, nothing about it would have put the author onto my auto-buy list or my permanent keeper shelf. I probably wouldn’t even remember the author’s name. That happens a lot with authors — the first few books are really good and then they become, well, pleasant. The stakes are no longer high. The characters are harder to invest in. But it’s not just that the ending is guaranteed to be happy — I prefer happy endings so most of the books that I read are going to end well. It’s also that nothing along the way is going to be too unpleasant. But that should be okay, too. I like pleasant books.

But it made me realize that the books I like best are the ones where the characters are having an intense inner journey, a passionate emotional experience, regardless of the actual events of the story. Not a lot of action is not a problem for me as long as the character despairs, at least for a moment or two. This book — which, again, was a perfectly nice book — has a character who’s having a story. Scared, trapped, in love with the wrong man, her mother and sister murdered, driven to the verge of suicide, saved at the last minute, slowly making friends with strangers who may be safer for her than her family… seriously, she’s got a Story.

Unfortunately, she’s not the protagonist. The protagonist, on the other hand, is the kind of character who — pretty much the moment she realizes she has no money — receives a shipment of coins and clothes from the family she ran away from. Problem solved. She’s occasionally in danger, but she’s never remotely at risk. And sure, she’s discovering she’s in love with maybe the wrong guy, but there’s nothing much keeping them apart and he probably sorta loves her, too. Also, he’s a nice guy who any sensible person would be in love with. Pleasant, nice, readable, mildly entertaining. Not a keeper if storage is tight (although yay for ebooks, and certainly a keeper for my Kindle library.) Definitely not an auto-buy, despite the $14 spent.

There’s a scene in Grace that I haven’t been sure about. I keep circling around it. It might change my world-building somewhat. It might be out of place. It might not fit the kind of story I think I’m writing. But I think I’m going to write it anyway, because emotional intensity is interesting to read, and when it comes right down to it, I think I’d rather write interesting than pleasant. (Although I like amusing as well.)

I wonder if I will ever finish writing this book?

Yesterday’s word count was something like 1800 words — not quite the 2K I’d like to be making every day, but enough to break the 10K mark. And now it’s almost 11 and I haven’t even started my real writing yet, so it’s time to get to it!

Reviews

14 Friday Aug 2015

Posted by wyndes in Movies, Reviews

≈ 3 Comments

R and I went to see The Man from U.N.C.L.E. today. Upon exiting the movie theater, I offered the typical, “So, what did you think?”

He replied, deadpan, “Not the best spy movie I’ve seen this week.”

I have not asked him how long he’d planned that line, but it made me laugh out loud.

We also saw Mission Impossible: Rogue Nation this week and that movie, upon leaving the theater, got from me, a “Wow. That was seriously not as mediocre as I was expecting it to be.”

So, two movies, two quickie reviews:

The Man from UNCLE is gorgeously filmed, stylistically beautiful, with set pieces that will make you want to applaud for the cinematographer and the editor and the set designer. And the characters lack charm. A little bit of warmth, a smile that reached the eyes, a few sentences that were self-deprecating instead of arrogant, would have gone such a long, long way to making it a better movie. As it was, eh. It was a pleasant afternoon with my son, but I bet I forget all the details within two weeks.

Mission Impossible: Rogue Nation is your basic summer blockbuster fare, except almost impeccably delivered, and with a female character who is actually interesting and granted agency. Yes, it ran a little long, and yes, it basically suffers from the same old Smurfette syndrome of most action movies (why does Hollywood think the world only includes a single woman?) but the plot was interesting, the action sequences were fun, it made a car chase exciting — ticket to success: add motorcycles — and the payoff of the ending was perfect. Will I remember it? For longer than two weeks, sure. Did I love it? No, not really. But I was pleasantly surprised.

And now a third review… except that I’m not sure I can deliver on it.

Sense8.

OMG, Sense8.

It’s terrible, in so many ways. Really, in so many ways, it is… bad. But then there are all the ways in which it is good. And a fair numbers of ways in which it is wonderful. It took me four episodes to get caught, six episodes to fall in love, and then basically, I wanted to do nothing else but find out what happened next. And since then, I mostly just want to talk about it.

My first words on walking out of UNCLE were “The Russian would have been so much better if the part were played by the actor who played Wolfgang in Sense8. He could have made that role so much more worthwhile.” R, who is halfway through the season, agreed with me.

On the way home, we were talking about something, and I brought up Sense8. This afternoon, he came in my room and asked me a question about my thoughts on the nature of time, and I tied it to Sense8. And now… he just started watching episode 7, so I have to stop writing now and go watch television.

But if you have a choice about watching any of these three things, invest the time in Sense8. The first four hours will feel stupid. Once you’re finished, you’ll want to argue with so much. There are so many things to complain about — so many! Stereotypes and tropes and gratuitous sex and boring background details and incoherent world-building… but I have to go watch television now so that I can see an episode for the fourth time because watching Capheus discover the clouds and hearing Riley talk privilege vs luck is a really great way to spend some time.

Two years

20 Monday Jul 2015

Posted by wyndes in Bartleby, Personal, Randomness, Reviews

≈ 2 Comments

In two days, it will be two years since Bartleby arrived in the backyard. Given that I got to spend $400 last week running liver tests on him because he has some elevated enzymes — liver tests which found basically nothing except, yep, his liver enzymes are too high — the pessimistic vet who predicted that he would be a very expensive dog to own was not wrong.

On the other hand, the ridiculous little dog has brought me joy and snuggles, just the way dogs are supposed to. I’m feeling as if I’d like to celebrate his anniversary with me somehow, but I’m not sure how. He does not need chocolate cake or pizza, my two favorite celebratory foods. Maybe I’ll take him out for dog-friendly ice cream. My only hesitation is that I’d have to bring Zelda, too — no way does B get to come out for ice cream when Z does not — and juggling two dogs and two doggie ice cream cones, while driving the car sounds just a little unsafe. Okay, a lot unsafe. But it’s not until Wednesday so I’m going to figure out a way to accomplish it. It’s a nice plan.

Today’s plan — words, words, words. I took the weekend totally off. Read a lot, swam some, did useful house stuff. I actually felt pretty damn proud of myself yesterday when I’d finally finished dragging all the bougainvillea branches out to the curb. Bougainvillea is such a mean plant. I never manage to cut it back without losing some blood in the process. (Although, as my nephew pointed out last week, if I wasn’t chopping it down, probably it wouldn’t be making me bleed… yeah, point taken. But if it didn’t grow so fast and have such harsh thorns, I wouldn’t have to chop it down!) Anyway, the garbage guys — justifiably — require that it be tied up in neat piles to be disposed of and I’ve gotten satisfyingly good at getting big branches of thorny viciousness out to the curb in neat little bundles. So it wasn’t word count, but I still got to feel accomplished.

Today, though, it’s time to be all about word count. I was looking through past posts, trying to find the exact date B appeared, and then curious about other Julys, and at this point in July 2013, I was 25K words into Time. In 2011, I’d spent months writing the first five chapters of Ghosts, and finally had a first chapter that satisfied me. It was a good reminder that I’ve been stuck before — repeatedly — and still managed to produce a satisfying book in the end. Although I really hope that once I break loose on Grace, I don’t need to agonize quite as much as I did on Time because I remember that autumn as being… difficult.

In entirely random other numerical notices, I added up the number of reviews I have on Amazon.com yesterday because it occurred to me that I was pretty close to a milestone, and my books have received 996 reviews, not including any reviews from the anthology. (The only one of the anthology reviews that mentions Guests, though, described it as “super fun, sassy” which pleased me so, so much – sassy, in particular, is really endearing to me.) Anyway, 1000 reviews also feels like something to celebrate so I’m going to have to think of something nice for me, too, although it probably be another couple of weeks before I get there. Nothing food-related, so maybe I’ll do another kayaking day trip. I bet it’s really damn hot right now, though. Maybe I can steal a kid or two — my niece, maybe? — and go inner-tubing next week. First though, words. Lots of them.

Fingers crossed that Noah is obliging!

Mad Max: Fury Road review

25 Monday May 2015

Posted by wyndes in Movies, Reviews

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Movie

So Mad Max is not my kind of movie in ever so many ways. Let me count them, in fact.

First, it’s dystopic, which I don’t enjoy seeing. I didn’t even make it through the Hunger Games or any of its sequels and I loved those books.

Second, it’s violent, which is not my thing. I’m — well, if I’m being kind to myself, I’ll pick the words “highly sensitive.” I’ve watched movies that have given me nightmares for months afterwards, so I avoid watching violent stuff. I used to joke that I’d decided to be the last easily shocked person in America, but seriously, there are some television shows that I can’t handle. Movie theater violence is way beyond my ability to tolerate.

Third, it’s filled with car chases and explosions, which I find mostly boring. Long action sequences generally leave me working on my to-do list in my head. Maybe that’s because I’m easily overstimulated, so I start to lose track of what’s going on? I don’t know but I do know that the description of Max Max as “one long extended car chase” is a two thumbs down description for me.

Fourth, I don’t care about the original movies, so there’s no nostalgia factor for me. Fifth, none of the actors mean anything to me. Sixth…maybe that’s enough. Clearly no power on earth is getting me to Max Max: Fury Road.

And then the men’s right activists declared that men should boycott the movie because it’s “feminist” and I got interested. I read a review or two. They raved about the acting, about the depth, about the beauty of the action sequences. I thought well, maybe, but… probably not. Really, it’s just not the kind of thing my psyche can handle. I’m a wimp. (<–That's me not being so kind to myself.)

But when R expressed interest, with the caveat that he was "not sure it's mom appropriate," I said "let's do it." Mostly because going to the movies together was a nice way to celebrate him being home. I figured it if it was too much for me, I'd avert my eyes and stare at the floor.

OMG, what an amazing movie. It was incredible. It was dazzling and beautiful and intense and powerful and the ending… I so want to talk about the ending, which I am not going to do because I can talk to myself without typing and I don't want to spoil it for anyone else. But there's a moment in the movie that was the most powerful statement of respect that I've ever seen a man give to a woman. Seriously, it was shocking. Shocking. And alone, worth the price of admission.

The men’s rights activists are sort of right — Mad Max is the most profoundly feminist movie I’ve ever seen. But it’s almost sad that our language thinks equality and respect are feminist issues, and not simply people issues. Because Mad Max is not just feminist. It triumphantly espouses the idea that everyone can make a difference — women, yes, but also the disabled, the weak, the old, the sick. It was beautiful. And so worth watching.

In the grocery store afterwards, I wanted to poke every stranger I passed and say, “Have you seen Mad Max yet? You should.”

So have you seen Mad Max yet? You should.

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