Paper Towns

Paper Towns is a novel by John Green. If you’re not familiar, he’s the author of The Fault inOur Stars and a few other great stories. Afaik, I've read everything he’s ever published so you can assume from that I really enjoy his work. For one thing, Green gives the reader a protagonist she can really get behind. This is important to me because I like that “we’re all in this together” feel in a book. I think most people do. How well would Rowling’s books have sold if everyone basically hated Harry Potter even though they enjoyed everything else? Would people have cared what awful things befell Draco Malfoy in the same way they cared about Potter if he had been the star of the series? Green’s books don’t have wizards in them anywhere, but he does have very sympathetic characters populating his stories.

The protagonist, usually a teenage male, but not always, is a likeable sort who is struggling with his teenage issues. Granted, Green’s teens are way smarter than average and much of the time they are smarter than many adults that you may know. One of the characters, usually not the protagonist, is a little wild and crazy while being very, very smart as well. The secondary characters are interesting and have their own merits, and once in a while they grow right along with the protagonist.  I’m not trying to address all his work here and now really, but I think it’s fair to say he has a little bit of a formula going on.

The main character is madly in love with someone who for some reason, is out of his reach and he spends the entire novel trying to change that or at least understand the dynamics of the situation. Sometimes something tragic happens and sometimes it doesn’t.  Usually the growth the character achieves by the end of the novel makes it well worth the read and Paper Towns is no different in that respect.

The main character, Quentin Jacobsen is enamored of his neighbor, Margo Roth Spiegelman who is out of his league and he pursues her relentlessly but this isn't a story about a stalker, I promise. Quentin’s pursuit of Margo is so relentless in fact, that it gets a little bit tedious in the middle, but not for long. There’s not enough tedium to make a person put down the book and go away forever.

For one thing, Green’s books aren't usually very long, around 250 pages for all of them so far, but I don’t know how long this one is exactly. I read it on my Kindle Paperwhite and it doesn’t tell me page numbers, it tells me locations or minutes left in the chapter or what percentage I’ve read. I read it in about a 24 hour time period so it must be just about that long.  I probably would have read it in one long sitting, but I had a bathroom tragedy occur which sort of put me out of reading mode.

Skip This Part

I read a great deal of PT in the bathtub. I confess it and own it, I am a bathtub reader. I put my e-reader in a Ziploc bag and read the hell out whatever it is I’m reading the hell out of at the time. So I was up to 40 percent into the story when I decided I should stop pruning myself and get out of the tub. So while I was toweling off and stuff, I knocked my hairspray can off the shelf and into the sink. Now this doesn't sound like a really big deal except it landed on its top and knocked the spraying mechanism off and it went flying. Suddenly my hairspray was projectile shellacking everything in a two foot radius. Boy were the dust bunnies surprised.  I grabbed it and put my finger over the nozzle to stanch the tide while I looked around for the sprayer top. it was on the floor and I had enough sense to make sure the little sprayer hole was facing away from me as I worked the top back on. Bad news was, the stem was jammed in and putting the little top back on only gave the hair varnish a wider trajectory.

My bathroom smelled like beehive hell and I was feeling faint from huffing hairspray. I scrabbled around and found a lid from some other bathroom product because the original hairspray can top had hit the recycle bin many moons ago.  I jammed that lid down over the spray and it promptly blew right back up into the air and I finally got the faceful of hairspray that I was doomed to get from the beginning. If I were Lucille Ball, this would have been my chocolate conveyer belt moment but instead of delicious chocolate, I got a faceful of spray lacquer. In all my many years on this planet, no one has ever told me this has happened to them so as far as I know, I’m the first.

I know why it happened too.  I’m being punished by the enviro gods.

For like my entire life, I always used pump style sprays when I used them at all. I figured my carbon footprint (what the hell does that even mean anyway since we’re all carbon based beings?) was big enough without messing up the ozone over my beauty routine. But when I cut my hair off this last time, I got myself some “real” hairspray. I use Tresemme because they don’t do animal testing and I’ll be dang if I participate in bunny torture, but if I had stuck, no pun intended, to my pump style hairspray, I never would have eaten half a can of the stuff. I finally got a lid wedged on top while the can sprayed itself out. It was freakishly cold too. I got to worrying that it might explode. I could see myself being discovered by the paramedics, dead or horribly maimed, on the bathroom floor smelling like 1984 (or 1962) amid the rubble.  Anyway, after getting the hairspray out of my eyes and face (it may never, ever be all the way out of my lungs) I just wasn’t in the mood to keep up with Quentin and his quest for Margo Roth Spiegelman.

Resume Reading Here

One of the things Green does that I like is that his characters are southern without being all heehaw toothless stupid. I mean, I like stories set in the south as much as the next heat addled southerner, but if you notice, the south is practically a character in most stories set in the south. The author, whoever he or she may be, is damn determined to describe the unique southerness of a thing thereby continuing to isolate southerners from the rest of humanity. I get so sick of it. There are all kinds of people in the southeastern United States just like anywhere else in the damn world and Green never makes a bfd out of his characters’ southerness. He might mention the heat, which is, let’s face it, inescapable, or something peculiar to the south once in a while, but it isn't harped on, dwelled on, or otherwise lovingly described until  the reader wants to rush out, dig up Tennessee Williams and slap his corpse.* Thank you for that John Green.

*Or is that just me?

Green introduces Moby Dick into the literary mix of his story making it easy for the reader to draw parallels between Capt. Ahab and Quentin.  He also uses Leaves of Grass as a literary device to further his story.  See what I mean about being smarter than most people you know? All in all, it’s not a bad type of story for a young adult to read. If they dig it and want to emulate the characters, it just means that they’re going to get smarter and possibly more carpe diem-y. Green’s characters, for all their quirks, are way better role models than Holden Caulfield or Alex, Dim, Pete and Georgie. 

According to indeed dot com, these are the two jobs I'm qualified for in Hsv, AL

Gone Girl Part Deux

Gone Girl is a very well written book.  The reader suspense is unparalleled in anything I've read in quite a while. The heart-racing panic I've endured is how I imagine it’s how moviegoers felt when they saw Psycho for the first time. Back when it was fresh and new, nobody expected it to take the disturbing plot twists and turns that it took, except for those folks who had read the book of course.

Flynn’s story is filled with antagonists. There’s no place for a beleaguered reader to find refuge. There is no happy place. If you are prepared to hate every single duplicitous, spiteful, evil character in a book while they take you on an emotional roller coaster ride to Hell, well maybe you’ll like Gone Girl. 

 I've not been able to put it down even though I've been horrified page after page after page.  Horrified.  Granted, I may be more of the delicate snowflake then I realized.  The story has been a three day long anxiety attack that I have not enjoyed, but like any good train wreck, I've been unable to look away.  Gillian Flynn is an amazing writer. My hat’s off to her, if I were wearing a hat, but I doubt I will ever read anything else of hers ever again. I don’t like being this upset.

I’m going to go re-read The Bell Jar and see if I can cheer up.

Gone Girl

I’m reading Gone Girl long after the world has read it, discussed it, seen the movie and forgotten about it. Of course it’s all new to me. So far it’s hard to put down, but I’m finding myself really pissed off at it a good bit of the time. Does everyone have to turn out to be an asshole? I feel like I've escaped into a terrible place full of awful people who don’t even have the decency to be blood sucking fiends or outer space aliens to explain their soulless behavior.

I almost stopped reading it about a quarter of the way in because it was causing my heart to beat really hard in a panic attacky heart attacky sort of way. Regardless of what I think of the subject matter, that’s some very good writing to have that kind of effect on a person, namely me.  I couldn't get myself under control on my own; I had to listen to a meditation app on my Kindle so I could settle down. I’m pretty sure I’m going to go read something by MaeveBinchy after I finish Gone Girl, if I finish it. I need to have my faith in humanity restored, and I need to know that there’s still some good in people. I do not like the Gone Girl world. No one is what they seem and nobody can be trusted, except maybe the sister. I’m still only half way through so she may get up to something evil before it’s all over. 

Maro Polo: Here there be spoilers (but not many)

Woke up this morning and got myself the remote control.

I decided to give Marco Polo a try and I find it’s the first day in ages that it’s not the highlighted show on my Netflix which is a little funny. I can’t escape it for a couple of weeks and when I finally decide to turn it on, I’ll have to search for it. The highlight is for a show called Broadchurch and it’s about two British people who are shocked over a murder apparently.  Shocked British people are usually worth watching, at least initially, but for now, I have a mission.

The Wayfarer is the title of the first Marco Polo episode. It begins when some small print alerts me to the fact I’ll be entering into the realm of Kublai Kahn. It mentions the city of Xiangyang. I don’t know where this is because somebody keeps changing the English spelling of Chinese places every few years leaving me geographically confused. I don’t know why. Where ever it is, the people inside are fighting off the Mongol Horde. These people have my complete sympathy because a Mongol Horde is a fearful thing. Possibly they are defending a City Wok.

The Polos are undaunted by all this scariness because they plunge right in anyway. The opening scene after the history lesson is one of a burned out village with impaled bodies everywhere. Yuck! The speaker, who is one of the characters, says it’s what happens if you don’t submit to Kahn. If I were in that situation, I’d be busy submitting right away. It’s been my experience that there are no politicians worth impaling yourself over. Team Polo stumbles into the middle of all this death and destruction, and a bunch of them get killed right off the bat. That’s what I call a deterrent to friendly trade. 

I figure out which guy is supposed to be Marco Polo in this party of decreasing members because of the number of camera shots dedicated to him. He kind of looks like he wandered off the set of Jesus Christ Superstar, or maybe that’s just me. Anyway, he’s in trouble now because he’s been taken prisoner by some Mongols though I don’t think there are enough of them to constitute a horde, but they’re more heavily armed than the Polos.

I’m now concerned that I’ve already written too many spoilers and try to calm the hell down and do more watching than I’m writing. I take a deep breath and search for my inner tenth grader who wasn’t concerned with writing down every high point for the book report.

Three Polos make it to Khan: Uncle Polo, Father Polo and Marco Polo. They have to crawl in on their hands and knees to approach the Emperor Kahn. Right away they get into a religious conversation with him and I am concerned. Who doesn’t know that religion and politics are terrible discussion topics? I have to say that Kublai Kahn seems a sort of reasonable guy, except for the whole crawling into his presence thing. That would have to suck.  I think my knees might crumble right out from under me. I wonder if Kahn would allow me to scoot into his presence on my butt?

Father Polo, who is not a priest, but Marco’s dad, tosses old Marco to Khan like a bone almost immediately in order to be able to trade along the Silk Road which is pretty crappy behavior in my opinion. Marco isn’t exactly thrilled about this, but it’s too late, he’s stuck. I’m not going to over-spoil this review and transcribe everything I see, but I have to say that Marco Polo’s dad is kind of a dick, except when he’s not.

All this happens before the opening credits. The credits are beautifully done by the way. They’re all running ink and pictures of Chinese type stuff, like impaled villagers and horses looking alarmed.

I also realized that what I knew about Marco Polo and the Silk Road, you could keep in your hat, so I wanted to see how far from reality the writers and producers had strayed. The first thing I found was this: Silk Road Marketplace .

It’s fascinating reading and has nothing to do with the real Silk Road or Marco Polo, but it’s topical as in happening right now, so you might be interested in reading it as well. This is the image that caught my eye -> 

I was looking for a map of the original Silk Road, but come on, what casual internet searcher wouldn’t click on this link? Of course now I’ve used up all my spare time and the real Silk Road research will have to wait. I’ve got to do something that actually gets me paid today instead of randomly clicking around on the internet. Possibly I will type up a Silk Road history lesson for a later post.

I’ve figured out that Netflix Originals means that at some point I’ll be forced to look at naked women whether I want to or not. I have to say, boobies are not that big of a draw for me, and frankly I’m tired of having random hooters stuck in my face. I don’t need that kind of titillation. I have the internet; I can get my simulated sex acts from other places if I feel the need. I resent being treated like a hormonal teenage boy by every show I try to watch. If as a writer or producer you feel the need to insert naked women all through your show to keep people watching, you should really check your script.  How about an interesting story instead?  Wouldn’t that be novel? I didn’t watch Netflix’s werewolf show, though I might have liked it, because the very first scene opened with two teenagers humping in a car. I figured if the creators were resorting to fake sex to get my attention, the rest of the show couldn’t be that riveting. There are three separate gratuitous nudity scenes in the Marco Polo pilot episode. They don’t advance the plot and they’re not that interesting.  It’s just “Here! Have some soft-core porn in case you’re otherwise bored!” by this production. And truthfully, I kind of am. 

Kublai Kahn is attacking the walled city; Marco isn’t having a good time yet, especially after he gets a blind Kung Fu master who keeps kicking his ass. Following the tradition of true Kung Fu masters everywhere, he spouts wise sayings while he’s whupping up on Marco Polo, but it’s just one more scene between naked people. I love a good Kung Fu movie. I do, but this feels tossed in to try and make the script have broader appeal to more teenage boys who like fighting when they’re not looking at boobies.

Outside the walled city, the Mongol Horde realizes they may be outnumbered in the knife fight, but at least they have really good armor. Back in town, a potential love interest is introduced followed by more naked women running around.  When there is actual acting going on, it’s decent, but I don’t feel any real charisma emanating from the characters. Kahn, instead of being a scary Tony Soprano type guy with a terrible haircut, is just kind of blah. Possibly this is the fault of the direction. I honestly don’t know. The Marco Polo character is kind of just strolling through his scenes. He doesn’t seem very emotionally attached to what’s happening to him. Maybe that’s manly in the 13^th century. Again, I plead ignorance.

An interesting, engaging television program needs charismatic lead characters and an interesting and engaging script. Of course great acting and good looking sets don’t hurt either, but if the storyline is weak and the leads aren’t magnetic, you can add all the nudity and Kung Fu events you want and you still won’t get much of a viewership. 

It’s been my experience that pilot shows are frequently awkward and sometimes not as good as the shows that follow it so I need to give Marco Polo a second view. I’m not drawn to it the way I am to say, Lillyhammer where I can’t turn off the TV until I see what happens in every stinking episode until there are no more to watch. Twice. Too bad Little Steven doesn’t star in Marco Polo. Now that would be a show. 

Because Everyone Else Has a Blog: Marco Polo

Because Everyone Else Has a Blog: Marco Polo: Netflix has been harassing me to watch their new original series, Marco Polo . It’s the only highlighted* show  I've  gotten for days a...

Marco Polo

Netflix has been harassing me to watch their new original series, Marco Polo. It’s the only highlighted* show I've gotten for days and they threaten me with the immediate start of the trailer any time another show I'm watching ends. Usually aggressive advertising irks me. My “Don't Tell Me What to Do” gene asserts its dominance and I refuse to do whatever the one-eyed box has commanded, and I can keep this behavior up for years.

I think I'm about to break down and watch it though. The reason being is that I'm always the last to watch anything. There are probably whole tribes of isolated people in rainforest jungles who have seen more popular television programs than I have. This habit leaves me somewhat disconnected from popular culture and gives me a whole lot less conversational ammunition at parties.

I don't remember what happened to Marco Polo in real life. I just know that he spent a really long time in China stealing their noodle recipes. I hope he came to a better end than Magellan.

*Highlighting is how Netflix makes recommendations for which shows to watch. Prior to MP, I would get a new one every day, which I summarily ignored.