Not, who has read more Alice Munro that I have, wants to know why she doesn't write novels. Her uncharitable hypothesis is that Munro is too lazy to dNot, who has read more Alice Munro that I have, wants to know why she doesn't write novels. Her uncharitable hypothesis is that Munro is too lazy to do the necessary work; she'd rather just scribble down each idea in short story form and then move on to the next one. Other people criticize her for being "cerebral" or "contrived". I don't agree with any of this, but I can see where the accusations are coming from.
After some thought, I find a metaphor which sums up my own feelings. It's true that a Munro story can seem just a little too perfect. Everything fits together so elegantly; there is nothing wasted. A non-chessplayer might compare it to a chess game. But for someone who does play chess, the image doesn't work. A normal chess game is like a novel. It's a story with a beginning, a middle and an end, where things often go in unexpected directions and painfully have to be put back on track. Novelists can never quite control their characters (Proust somehow ended up putting in a couple more books than he had originally intended), and chessplayers have an even harder time controlling their pieces.
There is a small group of people in the chess world, however, who do something which feels more rewarding to them than playing games; they compose endgame studies. A study is a chess idea expressed in its purest form. Every piece is necessary, and there is only one sequence of moves that achieves the desired result, given best defence. If White's task is to win, then he has only one way to win, and if it is to draw, then he only has one way to draw. The composer has a key position in mind, which possesses some unusual or beautiful property. At first, the arrangement of the pieces appears pointless; but finally the solver realizes that in just this case a knight is worth more than a queen, or the king finds itself miraculously stalemated in the middle of the board, and they see what the composer is doing.
A Munro story feels to me rather like a study. There is a small group of people and a set of relationships between them. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. But somehow, as the story unfolds, a logical but completely unexpected scene arises. A woman with psychic powers, baking little dough mice in an institution; or a child, with a winter coat over her pyjamas, standing shivering in a snowdrift and helping scatter ashes. You suddenly understand that this is what the story was about.
Very few chessplayers are able to create worthwhile studies. I think Munro's gift is similar, and just as rare. ...more
I had never read any Alice Munro, and I find it's difficult to say anything sensible about her. Obviously, the stories are very good. (She just won thI had never read any Alice Munro, and I find it's difficult to say anything sensible about her. Obviously, the stories are very good. (She just won the Nobel Prize. Duh). But what's most impressive is that she doesn't seem to be doing anything in particular. With some writers, it's easy to understand why they're so highly regarded. Take Vladimir Nabokov. I look at his brilliantly constructed sentences, his cleverly ambiguous allusions, his breathtakingly unexpected metaphors, and I sigh: ah, I wish I could do that too. I know perfectly well that I can't; I don't have the necessary technical skills. But Munro isn't showy. She seems to be telling me ordinary stories about ordinary people, written in an ordinary language. They don't require concentration to read. But each one is perfectly balanced, and somehow they end up grabbing me by the heart and forcing me to reflect on universal themes of human nature: how people are unfaithful, how they lie to their loved ones, how they are unable to act at a critical moment and spend the rest of their lives wondering why not, how their memories don't quite match up.
I'm currently reading a lot of science books, so perhaps it's natural that I'm reminded of a story about Einstein and Hubble. Some time in the 30s, Einstein and his wife visited Hubble, the most distinguished astronomer of the time. They were taken to see the hundred-inch telescope, a current miracle of advanced technology.
"What do you do with it?" asked Mrs. Einstein.
"I use it to discover the secrets of the universe," replied Hubble.
"Oh!" said Mrs. Einstein dismissively. "My husband does that on the back of an old envelope."...more
Gideon ushered me into the elevator with a firm, masculine hand behind the small of my back, and as always I felt an electric shock go through me. As Gideon ushered me into the elevator with a firm, masculine hand behind the small of my back, and as always I felt an electric shock go through me. As soon as the doors had closed, I sank to my knees, hardly even noticing the teak interior with its antique silver accents, and began to pleasure him. He sighed and plunged his hands into my hair.
"Oh Eva!" he groaned.
The rest of this review is available elsewhere (the location cannot be given for Goodreads policy reasons)...more
- Hi, mind if I join you? The name's Taggart. Dagny Taggart.
- La Carmencita. Ou tout simplement Carmen.
- Great to meet you, Carmen! So I work in trans- Hi, mind if I join you? The name's Taggart. Dagny Taggart.
- La Carmencita. Ou tout simplement Carmen.
- Great to meet you, Carmen! So I work in transport technology, and you do, let me see if I can guess, import/export, tax loopholes, am I close?
- Quelque chose comme ça.
- I won't pry. But look, that's not what I wanted to talk about. I heard you singing just now, and I thought, hey, she's just like me. What you said about love being, how did you put it, a wild bird no one can tame...
- L'amour est un oiseau rebelle que nul ne peut apprivoiser.
- Yeah, I know, it's better in French. So I said to myself, I bet this girl has man trouble too. Like, I've got this guy, he's great, don't get me wrong, but there's this other man. He doesn't say much, kind of the quiet type, but I just can't get him out of my head.
- L'un parle bien, l'autre se tait. Et c'est l'autre que je préfère, il n'a rien dit, mais il me plaît.
- It's like you can read my mind. So what do you think, should I leave Hank and get together with John Galt? The thing is, I just don't love Hank anymore. That's it really.
- L'oiseau que tu croyais surprendre, battit de l'aile et s'envola.
- That love/bird metaphor is great! You're right, it just flew off. Nothing to be done. But hey, I just keep talking about myself. What do you think's going to happen with you and Don José?
- Un jour, il me poignardera. C'est la fatalité.
- OMG, he's going to stab you to death and you just accept it and say it's fate? That's terrible. I've got a more optimistic take on things, I'm going to leave Hank, like, I mean I have to, but we'll still be great friends and at the end he'll help me rescue my new lover.
- Où trouves-tu des mecs comme ça?
- Where do I find them? Look, I was written by a woman, you know? I guess your author is a dead white European male?
- Hélas.
- I'm sorry. But, you know, objectively those are the breaks, right? Oh shit, is that the time? I gotta run, crisis meeting in five minutes. Look, it's been great talking. Do you think we'll ever meet again?
- Peut-être jamais. Peut-être demain. Mais pas aujourd'hui, c'est certain.
- You're so philosophical! But strong and passionate at the same time. I could learn a lot from you. Wish I could stay longer. Bye! ...more
At a standing-room-only press conference earlier today, top researchers from the world famous Goodreads Center foBad Book Is Like Other Bad Book Shock
At a standing-room-only press conference earlier today, top researchers from the world famous Goodreads Center for Bodice-Ripping, Bondage and Twilight Studies revealed that a bad book was quite a lot like another bad book.
"When I saw the final results of the data analysis, a cold shiver went down my spine," said the Center's director. "The chain of inference is long, and at first we weren't sure all the steps were watertight, but now we're confident enough to go public. Expressing it in layman's language, what we have here is basically that this bad book is similar to another bad book, which in turn closely resembles a third bad book. The implications are literally mind-blowing and we're still trying to understand them. Thank you."
In other news, E.L. James was briefly hospitalized after a pile of gold coins collapsed, partially burying her for several minutes. She suffered "minor contusions and abrasions" but was able to return home to her money-cave following a medical examination.
Snowman has spent a terrible night, full of confused, whiskey-sodden dreams, and when the Children of Crake call to him from the bottom of his tree heSnowman has spent a terrible night, full of confused, whiskey-sodden dreams, and when the Children of Crake call to him from the bottom of his tree he is still mostly asleep.
"You don't exist!" he shouts. "You're not even characters in a Margaret Atwood novel! You're just part of a review. And Manny won't write it until Jordan's finished the book as well."
None of this makes sense to Snowman, and it makes even less sense to the Children of Crake.
"What is a novel?" asks Eleanor Roosevelt.
"And who is Jordan?" asks Madame Curie. "Is she the same as Oryx?"
"Go away!" shouts Snowman, and tries to go back to sleep.
That showed them honey
He ignores the voice as best he can. __________________________
When they come back, Snowman is awake and has had time to prepare a strategy. He reflects, not for the first time, that one would ideally refrain from creating new points of dogma when hung over and barely conscious. But maybe this is a problem all prophets have to face.
He descends from his tree as steadily as he can, and smooths out the creases in his sheet.
"You have asked me where you came from," he begins, "and I have said: Crake made you."
Madame Curie nods vigorously.
"But," continues Snowman, "where did Crake come from?"
Abraham Lincoln furrows his brow. This thought is evidently almost beyond his comprehension, and Snowman hopes he hasn't gone too far. But it is too late to retreat now.
"I will tell you," says Snowman. "First came Margaret Atwood. She sang a song of Oryx and Crake, and thus they came into being."
The Children of Crake are familiar with singing, and for a moment Abraham Lincoln looks happier. Though now Eleanor Roosevelt pipes up again.
"Who are Manny and Jordan?" she asks timidly.
Snowman had been hoping to avoid this subject. Unfortunately, Crake has included some elephant genes in the splice, and his Children have excellent memories.
"Margaret Atwood needed someone to listen to her song," Snowman explains, looking at his audience with all the seriousness he can muster. "She made Manny, and Manny listened to her just as you are listening to me now. And then she made Jordan, but Jordan had other things to do, so she only listened to half of the song. Jordan is very busy."
He worries for a moment that the concept "busy" will be unfamiliar to them, but then remembers the early morning pissing ritual and relaxes. The Children are nodding, taking in this interesting new knowledge. Once again, he's got away with it, even if there is an unexpected last-minute interruption from Madame Curie.
"What will happen when Jordan has listened to the whole song?" she wonders. Snowman can see that this doctrinal point is important to her, and unfortunately he hasn't prepared an answer. He decides to quit while he's ahead.
In response to innumerable queries from MJ and other people, this cheap, tacky PDF edition is now available to people who want to post sarcastic revieIn response to innumerable queries from MJ and other people, this cheap, tacky PDF edition is now available to people who want to post sarcastic reviews without substantially affecting their bank balance.
"...would make a great present for somebody who's never heard of GoodReads before, like maybe a caveman Praise for What Pooh Might Have Said To Dante:
"...would make a great present for somebody who's never heard of GoodReads before, like maybe a caveman recently unfrozen from an ancient glacier" - BirdBrian
"Having observed both Counsel extremely closely, I am compelled to find that the market value of Mr Rayner's efforts is precisely Nil" - Ian G
"... something rather amateurish that looked like it had been done in somebody's back room" - notgettingenough
"Manny doesn't like Harry Potter and sometimes I get mad at him and threaten to throw him into the ocean" - Mariel
"I bought this as a gift for my mum and there was rather more sex in it than I had expected." - Hamish
"... a waste of time... you can read all that stuff for free online" - Paul B
"The future is an endless oneupmanship to see who can write the wittiest, most popular 200-word capsule review on fuck-all. This is Manny’s fault." - MJ
"... call it Rue Vomitorium" - David C
"... good if you read it in the original failboatese" - Vote Whore
"... almost... funny" - Traveller
"... just ... some ... book" - Michael P
"Will you enjoy this? In a word, no, unless you are a masochist" - Sean D
"Never in my life I seen a more desperate attempt to get votes" - Alfonso
"... advertising..." - Esteban
"If I'd been drinking I think it could have made me seasick" - Tabitha
"The thing about Manny... he almost never throws feces at random strangers." - Kat
"... explicit ... the author has failed ..." - Scribble
"... rattling a virtual tip jar at every opportunity ..." - Jason P
"Manny, you sure are fascinated with Stephenie Meyer" - Rowena M
"GoodReads in-jokes ... off-putting ..." - Cecily
"... book snob ... insecurity ... stupid ..." - midnightfaerie
"... sexist garbage ... if you ask me, he is off his onion ..." - Nandakishore
"... ridiculous ... dilettante ..." - Rlotz
"... a pain in the testicles ..." - Faek
"... pompous ..." - Heep
"... silly ..." - Stian
"... enough..." - Alan B __________________________________
Over the last couple of years, several kind people have asked whether I'd considered publishing a collection of my best reviews. I always replied that I appreciated the suggestion, but it didn't seem like a sensible thing to do. But, a few weeks ago, I started wondering whether I shouldn't give it a shot after all. If Goodreads unexpectedly folded up - these things happen - it would be so annoying to lose my writing. Self-publishing has become cheap and easy. And I've got a fair amount of experience with type-setting. How much work could it be to implement a few scripts to turn HTML into LaTeX and then upload a PDF file to Lulu?
Well, it's never quite as straightforward as you think, but here is the result. For the benefit of other people who may feel tempted to do the same thing, let me give you the key lessons I've learned from this little adventure:
1. Sign up an editor and some readers. No author can be objective about their own work; they need keen external eyes to tell them both what's good and what's bad about it. It was fortunate for me that notgettingenough, who has long-term experience with publishing, took an early interest in the project and was willing to act as editor. She ruthlessly corrected several of my dumber ideas, forced me to think about issues I'd happily have ignored, and made sure that the book was produced to professional standards. My advisory committee - BirdBrian, Mariel and Ian - read through the manuscript and gave me encouragement and helpful suggestions. They convinced me that it was worth continuing and taking the time required to make it look good. Thank you, guys! You have all been so thoughtful and patient, and I greatly appreciate it!
2. Think carefully about which reviews to include. Not groaned over my initial selection, which probably took an hour to do and had no structure whatsoever. She encouraged me to group the reviews by style and type of book, after which I saw that some things were grossly overrepresented. Even if bashing Twilight is the Goodreads national sport, I didn't need this many examples of the genre. And much as I love writing about Flaubert, Proust, Wittgenstein and Kasparov, it's likely that the average reader will not share my enthusiasms to the same degree.
3. Acquire at least a smattering of knowledge regarding copyright. As I now understand it, most quoted text that might appear in a Goodreads review should be covered by the rules on Fair Use. I found the following passage from this page helpful:
Section 107 contains a list of the various purposes for which the reproduction of a particular work may be considered fair, such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. Section 107 also sets out four factors to be considered in determining whether or not a particular use is fair:
- The purpose and character of the use, including whether such use is of commercial nature or is for nonprofit educational purposes
- The nature of the copyrighted work
- The amount and substantiality of the portion used in relation to the copyrighted work as a whole
- The effect of the use upon the potential market for, or value of, the copyrighted work
The distinction between fair use and infringement may be unclear and not easily defined. There is no specific number of words, lines, or notes that may safely be taken without permission. Acknowledging the source of the copyrighted material does not substitute for obtaining permission.
The 1961 Report of the Register of Copyrights on the General Revision of the U.S. Copyright Law cites examples of activities that courts have regarded as fair use: "quotation of excerpts in a review or criticism for purposes of illustration or comment; quotation of short passages in a scholarly or technical work, for illustration or clarification of the author's observations; use in a parody of some of the content of the work parodied..."
Unfortunately, I learned the hard way that copyrighted images are generally not easy to include: the problem is that you'll be using the whole image, rather than just an illustrative part of it. Martha, my talented cover artist, had put together the following very attractive cover:
[image]
But, alas, the Estate of E.H. Shepherd thought this was an "inappropriate" use of Pooh Bear's image and politely but firmly refused to grant me permission. I didn't even get that far with Penguin (Jemima Puddle-Duck) or Gallimard (the Little Prince), who still haven't given me any clear answers. Not, in her capacity as excutive editor, made the sensible but painful decision to go for a simpler solution.
So there have been a few rough moments, but all in all I found this an interesting and rewarding experience. And now, I hardly need add, I'm curious to see if anyone is going to buy it! It's available from this Lulu page....more
[Grey exterior, early morning. RADIGUET is bent over the motionless form of MARTHE. Enter the SASSY GAY FRIEND]
SGF: Marthe is about to die a h[image]
[Grey exterior, early morning. RADIGUET is bent over the motionless form of MARTHE. Enter the SASSY GAY FRIEND]
SGF: Marthe is about to die a horrible death because of the callous neglect of her lover, Radiguet. Marthe, what, what, WHAT are you -
RADIGUET: You're too late. She's gone.
SGF: [looking at watch] Are we on European time? I'm such a stupid bitch!
RADIGUET: I'm afraid so.
SGF: Well... no point wasting a trip. Let me come in again.
[The scene rewinds and he comes in again, Spanish Inquisition style]
SGF: Raymond Radiguet is about to kill himself because of the dreadful guilt he feels for having caused the death of his lover, Marthe. This fate could have been avoided if he had had a Sassy Gay-
RADIGUET: I'm not going to kill myself.
SGF: [taken aback] You're not?
RADIGUET: And I've already got a sassy gay friend. I'm going to go and see Jean Cocteau and let him suck my dick until I feel better.
SGF: You big slut! Good for you!
[They high-five and do a little dance]
RADIGUET: Then Jean is going to help me write it up as a novel. It'll be cutting-edge. He figures he can arrange for me to get a prize or something. He's got connections. And cute pecs.
SGF: And after that?
RADIGUET: Oh, then I'm going to die of typhoid fever at the age of 20 and become a minor literary legend.
SGF: So you don't need my help?
RADIGUET: I've got it all planned out. Sorry.
SGF: [floundering] Ah... ah... you wouldn't know where the Bovarys live?
RADIGUET: Yonville is that way.
[He points and exits right. The SASSY GAY FRIEND is left standing next to MARTHE's corpse]
SGF: Okay. Okay. Still haven't figured out the French. Need to get my lines ready for the next one.
[Visibly pulls himself together, then tosses scarf over shoulder in trademark gesture]
SGF: Emma Bovary is about to eat arsenic. Emma, what, what, WHAT are you- ...more
This slim, elegant little book looks at first like an elaborate joke, but I think it is actually quite serious. What is "bullshit"? asks the author, aThis slim, elegant little book looks at first like an elaborate joke, but I think it is actually quite serious. What is "bullshit"? asks the author, a distinguished moral philosopher. He examines and discards various plausible hypotheses, for example that bullshit is merely lying or careless use of language. As he points out, the bullshit artist often lies, but need not do so: some bullshit is, more or less by accident, perfectly true. And similarly, although much bullshit is hasty or careless, some of the worst bullshit around is crafted with exquisite care and attention to detail; one need only think of commercial advertising and political campaigns.
The rest of this review is available elsewhere (the location cannot be given for Goodreads policy reasons)
I felt intimidated by the idea of reviewing Hugo Cabret, and wondered if anyone would help me. Luckily, the cast of Terry Gilliam's 1989 movie The AdvI felt intimidated by the idea of reviewing Hugo Cabret, and wondered if anyone would help me. Luckily, the cast of Terry Gilliam's 1989 movie The Adventures of Baron Munchausen were delighted to come to my rescue. Here are some selected comments:
[image]
The Right Ordinary Horatio Jackson
I do not approve of this absurd confection, which even the most cursory glance will reveal to be utterly lacking in rationality. A small boy cannot hide in the walls of a station and tend its clocks; a clockwork automaton cannot write a lengthy novel, complete with pictures; and even the author admits that his portrait of a distinguished French film-maker is, I regret to say, entirely the product of his deplorable imagination. People who flout these elementary principles are liable to come to a very sticky end. Now I am afraid I have important business which I must attend to. Thank you and good day.
[image]
Baron Munchausen
You say you are impressed by the meticulous craftsmanship, loving execution and unusual plot. I concede that my diverse adventures - trips to the Moon, routing the Turkish army, and other such trifles - have hitherto prevented me from demonstrating my own literary talents. Nonetheless, I wager that I can, within the hour, create a graphic novel which in every way is far superior to this one. If I fail, you may cut off my head. These are my terms: what are yours?
[image]
Sally Salt
If I did have a brother, I wish he was like Hugo. And if I had a sister, I wish she was like Isabelle. And I think Uncle Georges is a bit like the Baron.
Paris looks very pretty. Next time we go there, I won't just stay in the theater all the time.
[image]
The Goddess Venus
Mr. Selznick, what a handsome mustache. Shall we... dance? ...more
Jordan talked me into it - a familiar story :) Just ordered from The Book Depository... _______________________________________
If you hang out on GoodrJordan talked me into it - a familiar story :) Just ordered from The Book Depository... _______________________________________
If you hang out on Goodreads, I imagine you enjoy reading essays. (Like, if you don't, what exactly are doing here?) This book is a collection of 17 outstanding essays, nearly all of which, I'm ashamed to say, I hadn't previously read.
It was irresistible to pretend I was reading them here on GR, and then try to imagine how I would have reacted to them. In many cases, no great feat of imagination was required. Bruno Bettleheim's The Ignored Lesson of Anne Frank, I.F. Stone's When Free Speech Was First Condemned and Leo Marx's Huck at 100 are brilliant reviews of, respectively, The Diary of Anne Frank, Plato's Apologia and Huckleberry Finn. The first two would simply have knocked me flat, Bettleheim by the depth of his controlled anger and Stone by his extraordinary and unconventional scholarship. There's an important word in the Apologia, he claims, which has been consistently mistranslated out of deference to Socrates; when you substitute the correct translation, the whole sense changes.
With Leo Marx, my reaction would have been a little different. I know Huckleberry Finn well, which I can't say of the other two books, and my own review is exactly in this direction, commenting on the irony of the claim that Twain is a racist. Damn! Why didn't I do more work? If I had, I might have written this little gem. The same goes for Pico Iyer's In Praise of the Humble Comma (Iyer adores semi-colons too, but expresses it so much more elegantly than I did), Carl Sagan's The Fine Art of Baloney Detection (I would love to be able to explain the merits of scientific thought equally convincingly), and Ellen Ullmann's Space Is Numeric, a paean to the joys of late-night software implementation. Damn and double-damn! I've hacked code late at night to beat a deadline more times than I can count. I could have written this, but I didn't! Why ever not?
Some of them were telling stories about things I'd never experienced myself, but which would instantly have taken a place in my memory. After reading George Orwell's piece, I almost felt I'd attended a hanging in colonial-era Burma myself, Edward Abbey does a wonderful job of debunking the cowboy myth, and Martin Luther King's Letter from a Birmingham Jail, I discovered, thoroughly merits its fame; it's both inspiring and extremely well-written.
And finally, as usual on Goodreads, there are the people writing about the joy of writing. It's always a risky strategy, and Eudora Welty's Writing and Analyzing a Story was one of the very few contributions that I wasn't sure I would have voted for. But Alma Palmer Adler's Lying in the Long Grass, Eating Cane more than made up for it. The theme of conceiving of one's writing as a lover has been used before, but she does it remarkably well. I have to share this quotation with you:
I have not given this long-standing, faithful lover, this passionate devotee, my full attention. In some respects, I still fear what might happen to the rest of my life if I were to abandon myself to this paramour. In many ways, I sense that the depth of my feelings borders on sickness; yet I am painfully aware that this lover is as necessary as the blood that feeds my heart.
Me too, Alma, me too. I wish I could send you a friend request. ...more
How I saw Sex And The City 2 after reading Bluebeard's Egg
Carrie wonders why she's so unhappy. She's spent her life pursuing excess, and now she's acqHow I saw Sex And The City 2 after reading Bluebeard's Egg
Carrie wonders why she's so unhappy. She's spent her life pursuing excess, and now she's acquired everything on her list. She's a famous writer. She shares a beautiful apartment in the best part of Manhattan with the handsome, successful man she spent years snaring into marriage. She's got a walk-in closet full of expensive designer shoes. She eats out most evenings at the city's finest restaurants, and attends its most exclusive parties. She's close to her three longtime girlfriends, Charlotte, Miranda and Samantha. She'd do anything for them, and she knows they'd do anything for her. But she's miserable.
She's invited to a wedding. Her gay best friend has unexpectedly decided to marry Charlotte's gay best friend. She does her best to enjoy it, but she feels out of place. At the reception, a woman comes up to her. She says she is a huge fan. Then she asks Carrie why she has no children. Carrie doesn't know why. She can't explain it even to herself.
At breakfast, Carrie sits with her friends. Charlotte has her baby and her young daughter with her. Samantha counts out vitamin and hormone pills from a huge box. She takes nearly fifty pills every morning.
"I'm tricking my body into thinking it's younger," she says, and explains that the pills will allow her to stay beautiful forever. At that moment, Charlotte's nanny arrives. She's in her early 20s, and radiates health and vitality. She has lovely breasts, and it's obvious that she is not wearing a bra. The men all gaze at her appreciatively, ignoring Samantha.
Samantha is attending a movie première with her ex. Carrie goes shopping with her to buy a dress. The assistant tells Samantha that the dress is too young for her. Samantha puts her down magnificently. At the première, another, younger woman is wearing the same dress. The cameras are all directed towards her. For a moment, Samantha looks helpless and pathetic. Then the younger woman relents. She puts her arm around Samantha, and they pose for the journalists together. Disaster is averted.
Afterwards, at the party, Carrie discovers that her husband has disappeared. She looks around, and eventually finds him talking with a beautiful dark-haired woman played by Penélope Cruz.
"Every night, I go down on my knees and pray that it will stay up," Penélope is saying. Carrie's husband laughs, a real laugh. He notices Carrie and invites her to join them. He says that Penélope is a high-powered banker from Madrid. They have been talking about the stock market, which is constantly on the brink of crashing.
"Your husband is very funny," says Penélope, but without explaining what he said that was so amusing. Carrie suddenly hates the party. She tells her husband that they are leaving. When they get home, they have a small and inconclusive quarrel.
The four friends are invited on an all-expenses-paid trip to Abu Dhabi. They each have their own chauffeur-driven limousine and their own butler. The hotel is absurdly luxurious even by their standards. At breakfast, the table in their private suite contains more cordon bleu food than the whole buffet at a normal hotel. But they only take a little fruit, because they are afraid they will gain weight.
They try their hardest to appreciate the gifts that are being showered on them. They sigh orgasmically as each new delight is revealed, but they know they're faking it. Samantha's hormones have been confiscated by the customs officials. She is pursued by the thought that her body will tip over into menopause. She consults Google, then gorges herself on foods that are claimed to be rich in oestrogen. Charlotte is obsessed with the idea that her husband is sleeping with the nanny, and spends all her time trying to call him.
The women behave badly. Carrie bumps into an old flame at the market. She goes out to dinner with him, wearing her most provocative outfit. She kisses him, then feels guilty about it. Despite Miranda's warnings, Samantha refuses to acknowledge the strict Muslim rules. She is arrested for behaving immorally in public. The women are nearly lynched by an angry mob, and have to leave precipitously for New York.
Carrie arrives home to an empty apartment. She wonders if it's all over. But, after several agonizing hours, her husband turns up. He has a present for her, a ring with an unusual stone.
"Why a black diamond?" asks Carrie.
"Because you're not like anyone else," says Big, but she knows he's not telling her the truth.
She has a sudden glimpse of the future. Samantha's pills have ceased to work, and she is old and ugly. The market has crashed for real. Big has lost his job, and there are broken windows in the gleaming facades of Wall Street. It's ten years away, or maybe five, or maybe next year. She is like everyone else, and her country is like every other country, and this realization is both terrifying and strangely comforting. ...more
Wotcher been to see then guv? The Ghost? Yeah, saw it yesterday with the missus. Makes yer think, dunnit? I mean, not sayiA taxi driver (ghost-)writes
Wotcher been to see then guv? The Ghost? Yeah, saw it yesterday with the missus. Makes yer think, dunnit? I mean, not saying I believe it, but then I don't not believe it neither if you catch my drift, yer know? Questions what oughter be addressed, right guv? Don't mind saying I laughed a few times, that bit with countries what don't recognise the International Court of Justice, yer know? America, Iraq, North Korea, right guv? You ask me, best way to deal with them war criminals is string em up like they did with Mussolini, only language they understand, okay? Yeah, and did yer wonder about that Polanski guv? The Yanks been leaving 'im alone for thirty years, he makes this film and suddenly they're trying to extradite 'im. Might just be a coincidence like but I dunno, wotcher say guv?
I 'ad that Cherie Blair in the back once. Very interesting lady. ...more
His wife has left Wilderness Tips lying on the coffee table, and he picks it up. Over the last twenty years, several women have told him to read it. HHis wife has left Wilderness Tips lying on the coffee table, and he picks it up. Over the last twenty years, several women have told him to read it. He doesn't like to be pushed into things.
Now, though, his curiosity has got the better of him. The first few pages do make him a little uneasy. The scene where the boys are spying on the waitresses' beach party through their binoculars. He also feels like a voyeur. But that soon disappears. He isn't overhearing her private conversations: Margaret is talking directly to him. After a while, he identifies the tune that's started playing in his head. He goes over to the CD shelf, and looks around until he finds the Roches. He skips forward to "The Married Men".
One in Louisiana, one who travels around One of them mainly stays in heart-throb town I am not their main concern, they are lonely too I am just an arrow passing through
He can hear Margaret's ironic, teasing, sexy voice, as they lie in bed together and she tells him another story. "It's something that happened to a friend," she says, and he wonders if it actually happened to her, or if she made it up. He doesn't care. It's enough just to listen to her.
One of them's got a little boy, other one he's got two one of them's wife is one week overdue
I know these girls they don't like me, but I am just like them picking a crazy apple off a stem
He's in the middle of "The Bog Man" when he realises that his wife's come in and is looking at him curiously. He has to suppress a guilty start.
"Did you learn anything useful?" she asks.
He doesn't quite know what to make of her inflection. What was that French expression she likes?
"Mi-figue, mi-raisin," she says. Damn! She's reading his mind again. He wonders what else she discovered there.
"It's okay, honey," she adds softly, as she comes over and sits next to him. "I'm so glad you finally read it," and for some reason he finds that he has tears in his eyes, and she does too. ...more
A fantastic book! I have not come across anyone, not even Steven Pinker, who does such a good job of showing you how exciting linguistics can be. His A fantastic book! I have not come across anyone, not even Steven Pinker, who does such a good job of showing you how exciting linguistics can be. His bold and unconventional history of the English language was full of ideas I'd never seen before, but which made excellent sense. And, before I get into the review proper, a contrite apology to Jordan. She gave it to me six months ago as a birthday present, and somehow I didn't open it until last week. Well, Jordan, thank you, and I'll try to be more alert next time!
So, the book. I'm a linguist of sorts myself, though a rather different kind to McWhorter: his work has centered around the things that happen to grammar when different languages come into contact with each other, while I use grammar as a way to construct speech-enabled software. But, as you'll see a bit later, the fact that we both give a central place to grammar means that our research directions have more to do with each other than you might first think. In Our Magnificent Bastard Tongue, McWhorter looks at the history of the English language from his unusual viewpoint. The language has clearly changed a lot since it came into existence; why did it evolve the way it did? McWhorter's answer is that the big changes happened when speakers of different languages started mingling together. He focuses on three changes of this kind.
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There's a nice progression here, anyway. I lent Twilight to Cate-across-the-road; we gave her New Moon as a present, and she lent it back to me; most There's a nice progression here, anyway. I lent Twilight to Cate-across-the-road; we gave her New Moon as a present, and she lent it back to me; most recently, she bought Eclipse, and I borrowed it after she finished. I suggested to her father that the logical next step would be for me to sneak in through her bedroom window and steal Breaking Dawn. I'm not entirely sure he found this funny.
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I am shocked, dismayed, not surprised at all to discover from Usually Reliable Sources that the series has a happy ending. Let's recap. The story so far: Bella, a shy, bookish, unimaginative 17 year old girl who's never been kissed, falls in love with Edward, who once was human but has now been transformed, by means not fully explained in the books, into a robot-like being with an insatiable craving for blood. Edward tries to control every aspect of Bella's life, including stealing into her bedroom at night and watching over her while she sleeps. At one point, Edward leaves Bella abruptly, pushing her into a state of suicidal despair. He in fact believes, on rather slender evidence, that she has killed herself, and, rather than trying to find out whether she really is dead, decides to kill himself too. Bella, who has not died, is forced to risk her life a second time to save his.
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