Red, White and Esoteric

red, white and OH MY GOODNESS!

Tue, 05 Jun 2007 20:34:00 -0400

Everyone gets naked. You, me, Bea Arthur. Some people get naked and dance around. A few get paid for it. And a couple of people even get naked and pose for pictures. Punky Brewster is not one of those people. What was a completely harmless entry on my blog has turned into a bizarre world-wide phenomena. Due to a few simple words I wrote in an entry, people are searching my website in the hopes of finding pornography. In turn, this has taught me a lot about blogging and the internet. I want to read 100 books this year, that's my goal. To help me keep track of them, and to make failure that much more embarrassing, I went public with my goal and started a blog called "Red, White and Esoteric." To begin with, a few of my friends and family subscribed to it, then word got around, and I noticed my entries were getting more hits. (More meaning eight, instead of three.) I was curious about this trend, so my friend Josh hooked me up with a site called Feedburner.com. It tells you all kinds of statistics on your blog, like how many hits your site gets in an hour, what pages get looked at the most, where in the world people are looking at them from and how people arrived at your blog. In the beginning, my site got a few dozen hits a day, things like people searching for "Gabriel Garcia Marquez" and then linking to a review I had done of "The General in His Labyrinth." One day I wrote an entry mentioning that as a child I had written to Soleil Moon Frye, better known as television character Punky Brewster. A week later I noticed that someone in Michigan had stumbled upon my entry after typing in "naked punky brewster pictures." What?! Someone was trying to look at Punky naked! That's crazy! Who would want to do that? I imagined some greasy-haired guy with glasses and bad acne, wearing a "Save a Tree, Eat a Beaver" t-shirt, leaning over his keyboard and hoping his search paid off. Just some random freak. Still, it amused me. I showed it to all my friends. I also wrote a new entry about it, entitled "Ok, who's the pervert?" I even added a link that said if you clicked on it, you would be taken to a page with naked pictures of Punky. When you do click on it, however, it just tells you you're a pervert. This entry was magic. The next time I logged onto Feedburner, my blog traffic had spiked like crazy. The "pervert" entry alone was getting dozens of hits a day. All it took was the magic words "punky brewster naked." Apparently, seeing Punky naked is a worldwide quest. There was traffic from Bombay, London, Berlin, Dubai, Bejing, all over. Seeing Punky in the buff is a universal goal. I understand that famous people without clothing are curiosities. Do they look like regular people? I remember peeking with my friend at her dad's Playboy once, the one with Denise Crosby on the cover, because Tasha Yar was our favorite on "Star Trek: The Next Generation." I just thought she looked tan. And silly. It made it appear as though famous people wear a party hat and streamers when they can't locate their clothes. I also learned there are a million ways to ask to see Soleil naked. "Punky naked," "naked punky brewster," "naked punky pics," "naked soliel moon frye," "punky brewster nude," just to name a few. I hope they want to see her naked now, in her early 30s, as opposed to back on the Punky Brewster show, when she was eight. My blog is now the first site to appear if you google the words "naked punky brewster pictures." In the whole world. While it is strange, I just like to say it. Number one in the whole world! With the help of my friend Josh, I have learned to capitalize on the world's need for smut. I now try to include several phrases on my blog that could accidentally be construed as pornography if taken out of context and used in a search. Things like "I suck at playing tennis," or "in the back of my mind, I've had this idea for an entry." My site now gets hundreds of hits a day from people searching for porn. I don't mind. Maybe they'll be inspired to pick up a book whenever they finish what it is they're doing. Oh, and for the record, there are no photos of Punky Brewster completely naked. I checked. She did some for Maxim in her underwear, but that's about it. I imagine some day, if Soleil Moon Frye does pose naked, she'll be wearing pigtails and a bandana around one thigh. I'll be sure to link to it from my blog. -The Wire, June 6, 2007

This has nothing to do with books whatsoever...

Mon, 21 May 2007 00:15:00 -0400

...but how many people do you know who have done this?

#27 Hannibal Rising

Fri, 18 May 2007 22:17:00 -0400

Thomas Harris has written five books in the last thirty-two years. The first two are great. The third, Silence of the Lambs, is amazing. Then, ten years later, he gave us Hannibal, is pretty lousy. I thought Hannibal and Clarice ending up together was dumb. (I don't care who I ruin it for.) And the latest, Hannibal Rising, which is just god-awful. It tells us where Hannibal Lecter came from, why he's so evil. Let me go ahead and ruin it for you: Hannibal was forced to eat his little sister when he was a kid. There. That's the big mystery. Lame, isn't it? I don't think we really needed to know. It could have been because he didn't get a pony when he was eight, it doesn't matter. We love Hannibal because he seems so bad for no reason. I don't know what I was hoping for from Hannibal Rising, but being disappointed again was not it. And Harris may as well have just published the script for the film, the book was clearly written only for that purpose. Not worth a handful of fava beans...

#26 Snow Crash

Fri, 18 May 2007 21:42:00 -0400

Neal Stephenson can predict the future. At least, he could, back when he wrote Snow Crash in 1992. Set in the not-too-distant future in what used to be the United States, he details a dystopia over run by computers and chaos. Hiro Protagonist, the story's, um...protagonist, delivers pizza for a living. But in the Metaverse, a cyberworld he visits (hello-Second Life), he's a super sword-wielding hero. He spends the whole book trying to thwart a villain who is trying to wreak havoc by releasing a virus into the Metaverse. (Sound familiar?) Stephenson even describes a 20th century version of Google Maps. It's eerie. Or they ripped his idea off.

On top of that, this book is very funny. And it didn't make me feel stupid, something I was concerned about, seeing as how it is all about computers and technology and Sumerian myth.(Naturally, isn't everything?) I'm looking forward to reading more of Stephenson's work, in the pile is Cryptonomicon, his most famous work, and Quicksilver, the first in a trilogy. Also in the pile are pretty much every other book on the planet. Except Tuesdays with Morrie. I'd rather rub crushed glass in my eyes.

#25 Christine Falls

Sat, 12 May 2007 13:16:00 -0400

*see "Mom's a Cheetah"

#24 Good Omens

Sat, 12 May 2007 13:15:00 -0400

*see "Mom's a Cheetah"

#23 Heart-Shaped Box

Sat, 12 May 2007 13:11:00 -0400

*see "Mom's a Cheetah"

Onward!

Sat, 12 May 2007 13:05:00 -0400

So, after much deliberating, I have decided to abandon the list. I overestimated my ability to follow really strict guidelines. Without the constraints of what books I can read, I think I will have a much easier time finishing my goal. I should have known just trying to meet a goal of reading 100 books in 365 days was a good one in itself. This means, with the three books I have already read that weren't on my list, I have read 25 book so far this year. Need to get going, quarter of the way done, year is almost half way over! Terribly sorry if I have let any of you down. I may look like I'm from another planet, but really, I'm only human. No, really. I swear. There have been tests.

I Suck.

Wed, 02 May 2007 11:36:00 -0400

I have been woefully inattentive, I know. I have been having reader's block and haven't read a book in over a month. While you patiently await the return of my book lust, you can check out my new blog, Person, Place orThing to get your daily fix of the strange delightfulness. It's how I've been entertaining myself these days.

I Heart (Shaped Box) Joe Hill...

Mon, 16 Apr 2007 23:31:00 -0400

So that noise about a week ago? The one that was so high pitched it shattered your glassware and cracked your windows? Kinda went like this?

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Yeah, that was me, sorry. The coolest thing happened, though. Remember a couple of weeks ago I posted the review I wrote about Joe Hill's Heart-Shaped Box? Well, somehow, some way, he saw it and he sent an email to The Wire in response:

"Liberty, Just wanted to say thanks for the great, tremendously generous review. By far, my favorite H-SB review to date. Best, Joe Hill."

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

I can't even believe it, it was so exciting! Joe Hill! As in New York Times best-selling author! As in son of Stephen King! If I had known my fifteen minutes were going to be here, I would have at least tried to look a little more presentable...Imagine if they quote it on the cover of the paperback version?!! Don't worry, my kittens, I'll still love you all...

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

P.S. I found this picture while searching for pictures of someone looking excited. This could be me as a video game character, right down to the barely perceptible eyebrows...creepy!

Today's Blog...

Sun, 08 Apr 2007 22:52:00 -0400

...has been called on account of rain. Book Kitten is soggy. I spent the whole day crying. I cried because I haven't been reading. I cried because the people who just moved in below me smoke and it is stinking up my apartment and now Bella and I are going to die of lung cancer.I cried because I didn't realize Easter was here already and I had wanted to decorate eggs this year. And, man, oh, man did I cry at season five of Buffy. There were a whole bunch of other reasons, too, I'm sure. My cheeks are like salt licks. I can barely see to type this. Maybe tomorrow will be better. Or maybe I'll wake up...

Woe Is the Life of an Uneducated Book Kitten...Sometimes...

Tue, 03 Apr 2007 22:50:00 -0400

Last night I drove to the University of New Hampshire to see Edward P. Jones give a reading. This would not be a big deal for most people, but I am a serious baby, and was scared out of my wits about driving to an unfamiliar location, in someone else's car, and in the rain, no less. Especially considering I haven't driven in over a year. (No, not because I was incarcerated, sillies. Just have no wheels.) After several foiled plans and the inability to cajole anyone into driving me, I resolved myself to the fact that I couldn't do it, I was too nervous, even though the use of a vehicle had been offered. It was only after Significant Dave, busy man that he is, said he would drive me that I decided to just go ahead and do it. I can't let him have a big ninny for a girlfriend, I want him to think I'm tough. I am so tired of being such a loser!

Turns out, the MUB was not hard to find at all. It was right down the street from a boy I used to date some time ago. He lost all rights and privileges to the Book Kitten after he insisted loudly, in the middle of a cafe one Easter (hey, almost an anniversary, loser boy), that, no, it was in fact Blue Radley, he should know, he was an English professor and I hadn't even been to college. Left him sitting in the coffee shop with his chai and his bad attitude, never to set eyes upon my glorious orange fur again.

Anyway, I parked a million miles away from the MUB, and had to walk back. I was nervous, I didn't feel like I should be there. I worried at any minute someone would start yelling "Intruder! She doesn't belong here! She can barely manage using 'its' and 'it's' correctly!" I felt better in seeing that many of the people I came across were my age and older, but I was a little amazed that I was the only person using an umbrella in the freezing cold rain. Guess they don't teach you that in school.

As I got closer to the MUB, I saw a woman standing at the bottom of the driveway, holding a sign that read "PARKING FOR EDWARD." I thought, "It's nice that people are so enthusiastic for him, but how annoying, I wish she had been there earlier before I parked in Pittsburgh." Of course, as I got closer I saw she was bending the corners, it actually read "PARKING FOR EDWARDS." Turns out, John and Elizabeth Edwards were making an appearance at the same time, and the place was mobbed. I had to push through throngs of people crowding the halls. They were busy signing petitions, waving posters, handing out flyers. Some girl shoved her hand in my face.

"Free 'Stop Global Warning' button?" she said.

"No, thanks, I'm fine with it," I told her, and kept pressing on.

Edward P. Jones was amazing. He was a handsome older black man, wearing a suit jacket and oxford, jeans and brown tassel loafers with black socks. (!!! Is this kosher in the fashion world?) He read the beginning of two of his newer short stories, which were wonderful. He seemed awkward and shy, with his hands shoved deep in his jean pockets and not glancing up every time people opened and closed the door in search of the John Edwards assembly. He read wonderfully, not stumbling once. After, there was a quick question and answer (we had to relinquish the room to Delta Xi Phi for their talent show) and he came off as quite funny, but also quite crumudgeonly. All these fresh-faced kids asked him questions about his writing technique and inspiration and how to be a better writer, and he gave grumbling, curt answers. He had no inspiration, he felt research was crap, just make things up. He talked about how he disliked the glossary of characters they had added to the paperback version of The Known World, his novel that won him the Pulitzer. He said he would like to credit his readers with having more intelligence, and think they would not find a glossary necessary.

Jones also said some things that made me feel better about being an uneducated loser. He said that school is useless, that you don't need it to write. That the only thing you can do in life to make yourself a better writer is to read, read, read. Don't waste your time trying to figure out how to improve your writing, that's time you could have spent reading. It calmed me a bit, because after walking about the campus and sitting there with all those kids, I felt miserable at never having been to school. I want to be the girl walking with an armful of books, sitting in an English class, staring wide-eyed at her professor in all his elbow-patched glory, he who has lost his belief in his ability to get through to his students and has started to get a paunch beneath his tweed jacket...uh, something like that.

After, I asked Jones to sign my book. I now have a signed first edition hardcover copy of The Known World, and this baby is going to pay for Bella to go to college some day...I ran into a guy I know from town after the reading and he was super-jealous I got to sit behind Jones as he waited to go up on stage, and I think when I told him I too had taken the day off to be able to go, he fell a little bit in love with me. Good to know that uneducated, directionally inept, little old Book Kitten still holds some sway. I got back in my borrowed car and drove home, singing the new Modest Mouse song at the top of my lungs, racking the evening up as a small success.

Oh yeah, the whole book reading business? I'll be back to it soon, with a vengeance, like Die Hard...you'll see.

Heather, My Love, There's a New Sheriff in Town...

Wed, 28 Mar 2007 15:09:00 -0400

In 1991, Nirvana kicked the doors of the music scene down with their second release, Nevermind. For several years prior to that, the world had been wrapped in a cocoon of musical mediocrity, things coming and going without much notice, unless you happened to be caught in the tractor beams of New Kids on the Block. But with the first few strains of Smells Like Teen Spirit, Nirvana breathed new life into our stereos, our brains, our lives, making us dust MTV off and giving our parents another reason to hate us.

For many years now horror writing has been like that. Writers who once sent us dashing under the covers the second the lights went out now serve us up soft novels we may as well gum instead of read. Too many books and too much practice have taken the bite out of such writers as Stephen King, John Saul and Dean Koontz, leaving us the bare bones of the genre to pick at. Like all those teen spirits who didn't yet know how much they liked flannel, we've patiently waited for someone to bring horror writing into the 21st century.

Ladies and gentlemen, meet Joe Hill.

In 1993, Nirvana released Heart-Shaped Box, the first single off their third album. With its descriptions of an "umbilical cord noose" and "meat-eating orchids," accompanied by a video shot through with red hues and imagery, it was the band's most gruesome contribution. So it's only fitting that Joe Hill chose the same title for his debut novel, a bloody steak of a book.

Joe Hill is young, clever and darkly handsome. He sounds harmless enough when he speaks, talking in an innocuous Ken Burn's voice. You wouldn't guess he's going to scare you out of your wits. He's the perfect candidate to give horror writing fresh (ahem) blood.

The premise is entirely original. Jude Coyne, semi-retired rock god and macabre memorabilia collector, purchases a ghost over the internet. He can't resist clicking the "buy now" option the second he sees it on the auction site, excited for a new piece to add to his collection. If anything, it will be great publicity.

Made immediately apparent is the fact that Coyne is callous, selfish and rude. He's the stereotypical horror antihero: traumatized in childhood, lashing out as a grown up, treating everyone around him poorly. Even if you like him, really, how bad can you feel for him? He's the stupid sonofabitch who bought a ghost. You don' t have to like him, though, to enjoy reading as he tries to save his own ass.

So, sure enough, a few days later, an empty suit arrives, complete with spooky old man specter, who immediately takes up residence in a chair in the hall, dangling a razor blade on a chain from his hands, and scaring the hell out of everyone.

The story loses a tiny bit of bite when it turns out Coyne has been tricked, that the ghost belongs to the stepfather of a dead girlfriend he allegedly wronged. The idea of buying an anonymous ghost online would have worked better, would have given the story more elements of mystery. Still, for the next three hundred pages, the literal ghost terrorizes Coyne, his new girlfriend and everyone around him, eventually sending him running back to his childhood home in Louisiana to face some ghosts of his own.

From the first chapter, the violence and creepiness hardly abate and Coyne, like most in horror stories, takes multiple wounds and suffers massive blood loss without signs of slowing down. Hill manages to fill the book with all the things that comprise a good scary novel: cars crashing, dogs attacking, people wounded and bleeding everywhere, doing unimaginable things to themselves.

And all to the beat of this century. With its mentions of My Chemical Romance, MySpace and oxycontin, Hill has jump started the genre by applying liberal amounts of gore and culture. (Jude Coyne has his own MySpace page. Really.) We may not identify with a man who has his finger blown off with a .44, but we do sympathize when he can't remember how to open his email. Heart-Shaped Box is refreshing, frightening fun and easily consumed in one sitting, leaving horror reader's wet, red maws open for more. (Ha! I made it through the whole thing without mentioning Joe Hill is Stephen King's son!)

From The Wire, March 28 - April 3, 2007

Mom's a Cheetah- By Bella

Wed, 28 Mar 2007 14:54:00 -0400

While Red's away, the cat will play...As I'm sure you know, Red's still sick. While she's in the shower, I thought I'd take this opportunity to tattle on her. She has read three books not on her list! In between her codeine-induced coma, she has read Heart-Shaped Box, by Joe Hill; Good Omens, by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett; and Christine Falls, by Benjamin Black. And let me tell you, the authors? Two of these things are not like the other. Because Joe Hill is the pen name of Joe King, as in son of Stephen. And Benjamin Black? Really John Banville, most recently known for The Sea, winner of the 2005 Man Booker Prize. Red enjoyed all of them, especially Christine Falls, but maybe she just enjoyed the thrill of cheating. And she's going to do it again! She thinks she may be dying, so she's reading another book she wants to get in before she dies. What a baby! This next one is called Special Topics in Calamity Physics. As you may recall, she read the first twenty pages before she started her goal, and loved them. Now, she's going to take on the rest of the book. Cheater cheater. Ooh, here she comes...

Today's Guest Blogger: Bella

Mon, 26 Mar 2007 09:58:00 -0400

So, as you may or may not already know, Red's real sick. She has spent the last five days of her vacation laying around and moaning, holding ice to her face and not doing the important things one should do with their time off, like read and rub my belly. She's starting to get on my nerves. I nearly had to kill her to get her to give me a piece of hard-boiled egg the other day. She doesn't understand that yellow part is the closest thing we get to chicken around here.

Just thought I'd give you an update, seeing as how Red's been all whiny about how she can't read or post blogs or anything.I even included a picture of myself so you can see the "evil" she sometimes describes. You should appreciate it, it's not easy to take a picture with six fingers on your paw...I'm sure Red will be up and around in no time. Until then, I'm happy having her here, I like sleeping on her head.