Big Brother follows Pandora, a middle aged woman who is married and has two step children to a man, Fletcher, who is unrelenting and rigid in his diet.  Living in Iowa, she tries to live an unassuming, ‘boring’ life, despite also running a highly successful start-up business (selling personalised pull-string dolls of all things). And then her brother comes and stays with her in town.

Pandora hasn’t seen her brother Edison in four years, and she has distinct memories of him as a tall, lanky, handsome jazz musician, who, while talented, is also arrogant and youthful in his ways.  So it’s a massive shock for Pandora when she goes to pick him up from the airport and she barely recognises him.  See, Edison has put on weight.  Hundreds of pounds of weight for that matter.

For the next two months, Pandora tries to avoid the elephant in the room (almost literally), playing peacemaker between the boorish Edison and the uptight Fletcher.  Although initially assuming that Edison will soon to be off on an international tour, she discovers that he’s going back to nothing…and is very likely to eat himself to death.

Making the hard decision, Pandora convinces Edison to stay in Iowa and move out with her so that she can join him on a ‘get thin fast’ program, which leads to her marriage and her family life going into turmoil.

Obesity is an issue that effects 1 in 3 of us, although you could easily argue that it effects all of us, with its influence on fashion, media and society in general.  Only recently it was reported that in the US they’re fighting for obesity to be recognised as a disease.  Yet despite this, most of us fail to handle it.

Many people with obesity have eating disorders, or depression, or other insidious problems that cause them to overeat.  Some people have legitimate medical issues.  And while fat-shaming is the last thing that will help those who are overweight, and despite the fact that we’re getting larger as a nation, more and more of us crave to be thin and look down on those who are not.

So, quite obviously, obesity and the effects that it can have on family is a current topic.  However, on top of that, the author, Lionel Shriver, also has a borderline-autistic brother who himself was dealing with morbid obesity.  So it’s no small guess as to why she chose to write Big Brother.

While reading the book definitely turned me off the junk food (for small periods of time, there’s only so long I can go without chocolate), Edison’s weight wasn’t his biggest turn-off for me; it was his personality.

Perhaps it was different because it was a novel, and therefore I had to actively visualise Edison to remember his size, but what I couldn’t get past was his horrendous behaviour.  For the first section of the novel, we witness how he continually antagonises Pandora’s husband, Fletcher, who is written to be a food nazi who is uncompromising and steadfast in his ways.  As a result, he doesn’t get alone with Edison, the large slob who won’t say no to anything (food related that is).

Except, hang on.  Edison is actually rather awful.  He makes huge, unhealthy and unnecessary meals that no one can possibly eat, or wants for that matter.  He leaves his washing lying around, doesn’t help out around the house, and boorishly describes his jazz-antics from ‘back in the day’, that he knows nobody is really interested in.  So why are we surprised when Fletcher doesn’t want him in his home?  Regardless of size, if I had an impolite, obnoxious slob of a guest staying at my house for 2 months, I’d also probably be keen for them to leave.

Then there were the continual references to the sibling bond between Pandora and Edison, which was both accurate and inaccurate (and at times contradictory).  There were many points that Shriver made that I agreed with, such as the unspoken truce between siblings (particularly against parents), the inside jokes and laughs, and the compelling need to always, always give them the best.  These I couldn’t agree with more, and I’m sure those who have siblings probably agree too.

But then there were aspects, which were pivotal motivations for the plot, that I just couldn’t believe.  Firstly, I found it unbelievable that Pandora, at no point, told Edison to pull his head in, clean up after himself and make an effort with her husband.  Not once.  If that were my household and my sister were doing what Edison did?  Well, actually, I live with my sister, and trust me, when she leaves stuff lying around, I make it quite apparent I’m not going to be cleaning up after her.

Secondly, Pandora has this notion that there is no end to what she has to give to her brother, whether that’s time, money or patience, because he’s family and that’s how it works.  While there is a slight reference in Big Brother that alludes to why she thinks this way, I still thought it was a lazy excuse to cover a plot hole.  I think that siblings, along with parents, have the ability to say no, while still making it very apparent that they love and care for them.  Not let their brother get away with treating them like dirt because he can.

Saying that, Shriver has beautifully written Big Brother that delicately explores the nuances and complications of dealing with someone who is morbidly obese.  She writes her characters so that their reactions, conversations and problems are realistic (probably because she lived through a lot of them herself), and in turn ask us to wonder how we ourselves would react in that situation.  Would we put ourselves and our marriages on the line to essentially save a loved one, even if it were their own fault in the first place?  Would we treat them differently because of their physical appearance?  Could we avoid the truth of why they’re morbidly obese, and the sad reasons behind the transformation?

Finally, I appreciated the ending of Big Brother, which, while a surprise and definitely unexpected, was also quite accurate, not to mention poignant.

What I really like about Shriver’s storytelling is that she often tackles pretty heavy issues (a la not loving your son because he is a sociopath) without over-dramatising them(unlike numerous other authors that I can think of).  Instead of pointing the blame, or creating unnecessary drama, she thoughtfully constructs characters and situations that, while not likeable, are imaginable.  Her novels often deal with present day issues, and as a result, cause us to question what we believe in and what we would do ourselves in that position.

Big Brother is no exception to this.  Shriver explores the effects, misunderstandings and contributions of obesity, an issue that is affecting more and more of us, in a way that is realistic, thoughtful and yet not demeaning in any way.  In the society that we live in, and the pressure that we put on each other for our appearance and our looks, Big Brother is an intelligent and refreshing perspective, and I would encourage anyone to read this novel.

Have you read anything by Lionel Shriver?  Have you read Big Brother? What did you think?  Let me know!

Big Brother by Lionel Shriver – (image taken from http://www.blogspot.com)

Of A Boy, by Sonya Hartnett, may take the cake as the most poignantly sad book that I’ve read so far in 2013.  Not a tear-jerker, per say, but one of the books that make your stomach ache just a little because you feel so, so bad for the main protagonist.  And if that isn’t sad enough, the protagonist in Of A Boy is a lonely 9 year old.

Of A Boy is set in 1977 and begins with the media coverage of three young children who have mysteriously gone missing, believed to have been abducted. Adrian is close to being a misfit at his primary school, with the one friend, Clinton, all that there is between him and social exile, and sadly the friendship is tenuous at best.  During this time, a family moves into the home across the road from Adrian and he befriends 12-year old Nicole, who confuses and almost frightens Adrian, but to whom he grows an attachment to, and an unlikely friendship begins.

As a bit of background, Adrian is a boy whose only goal appears to be to make it to the end of the day, week in, week out.  During a time when we’re usually excited and emboldened by the everyday, eager to play with friends, discover new things and above all else, believe that we are the entire universe and everyone’s lives resolve around us (or was that just me?), Adrian is lacklustre, afraid and above all else, fears that he is boring.  Taken away from his mother who is ‘unsuitable to care for him’, unwanted by his father, and left with his grandmother who is ageing and wants her freedom, Adrian has never felt wanted, included or appreciated in his nine years.

Of course, since this is a terrifically sad book, it has a sad and somewhat unfinished ending (in my opinion at least).

I found Sonya Hartnett to be a beautiful writer.  Her writing is simple and her descriptions crisp, and I felt that I could perfectly picture Adrian’s home, school and friends.  Despite not being a long novel, it still poignantly captures a time and an atmosphere, while telling a story that is both saddening and perhaps bittersweet.

Although there were aspects about him that infuriated me, I sympathised so strongly with poor Adrian.  It is rare that I develop a strong connection with a character, particularly a nine year old boy, whose essence Hartnett captures perfectly.  Do we not all remember, however dimly, those feelings of wanting to fit in with classmates out of fear of being ostracized?   Of being confused by what’s happening amongst the ‘adults’ who refuse to tell us truly what is going on?  Of those friends who we may not truly like, but stay friends with because they’re perceived as ‘cool’ or popular?

Although, for the majority of the novel, nothing dramatic happens to Adrian, it is almost heart-breaking to read about the complete lack of self-worth and confidence that Adrian has in himself.  And what’s worse, is it’s the actions of his parents and his family that have led him to feel this way, sadly something that occurs throughout families every day.

Overall, Of A Boy is a wonderful novel because of Hartnett’s writing, which provides with perfect clarity into the mind and heart of a lonely, little boy.  Although this isn’t a novel, or a protagonist, that I would usually be interested in, I’m glad that I picked this book up and learned a little more about Adrian’s life, even if it did make me sad in the process.

Have you read anything by Sonya Hartnett?  Have you read Of A Boy?  Let me know!

Of A Boy – (image taken from http://www.upload.wikimedia.org)

Like with all Langdon-centred novels, Inferno takes place in a beautiful, history-rich city, where Langdon invariably ends up in a wild goose chase, where he has to save the day in the nick of time, and only his knowledge of obscure history facts from hundreds of years ago, can save them.  This stuff is genius guys, really.

In all seriousness though…the plot.  Robert wakes up in a Florentine hospital with a wound to his head, and no memory of the past three days.  Although he is welcomed by the sight of a pretty doctor, Sienna Brooks, things soon turned pear-shaped when an assassin rocks up at his ward, shoots the other doctor (the older, much less attractive and male, expendable one) and begins chase.  Along with Sienna, who it turns out has an IQ of over 200, Robert flees to Sienna’s apartment.  There, in an unknown pocket in his trusty jacket (it has elbow sleeves), they find a strange device that projects Botticelli’s Map of Hell, based on the legendary Inferno, by Dante.  Only thing is, the Map has been reconfigured as part of a series of clues that will lead Robert and Sienna to the end.  The end being, in this case, a plague, destined to be triggered in the next 24 hours, by a mad scientist (always wanted to legitimately use that term), who believes the human race is going to go extinct from over-population.  Despite coming across as a bit of an oxymoron, the figures show that he is right.

For Robert and Sienna to stop the plague, they have to follow a set of obscure clues that lead them through Florence, Venice and Istanbul, all the way allowing Brown to provide loving descriptions of the beautiful artwork, scenery and architecture in Europe.

OK, before I go any further, I would like to point out that Dan Brown writes books to make money.  He does blockbuster.  He writes in a way that is easy for the average reader to comprehend, and he uses the usual ‘blockbuster tricks’ to keep people page-turning (i.e. a cliffhanger at every chapter).  And despite what many others think, I knew this and still wanted to read Inferno.

Why?  Because books like these are fun.  They’re fast-paced, and they keep me reading whenever I had the opportunity, on the train, waiting for a friend, or just with a cup of tea.  Because, as all book lovers would know, sometimes reading a great book beats a night out.  No?

So overall, I enjoyed Inferno.  Sure, it had its plot holes.  For example, why is it that in every single Robert Langdon novel, he is always being chased by at least two different organisations?  Surely by now he has a number he can ring, where he can simply say “It’s Robert Langdon.  Things have gotten real in the art world, can you lay off me for a day or two?”  And while I’m all for heroes who come in and save the day, why does every Dan Brown novel have a lady sidekick, who invariably falls for Robert?  And even though they are pretty ridiculous within their own fields, it’s rarely shown.  Sienna is described as an actual genius, yet the only qualities she was able to bring to the table, so to speak, was her deceptiveness and her ability to act on the spot.  Surely Dan Brown could have come up with something a bit more inventive than a canny actress with a ‘dark secret’.  That’s a bit ‘done’ now, isn’t it?

But then again, I love how Dan Brown weaves fact into fiction, bringing alive characters that haven’t been addressed in a very long time.  Did I know anything about Dante?  Had I read The Divine Comedy?  Um, no.  Before Inferno, I had no interest in reading what is described as ‘an epic poem’.  As in long.  Really long.  And while I may have historians, literature buffs and artists around the world recoiling in horror, I like that I was able to learn a bit more about this through Dan Brown’s novel.

Not to mention, adding fuel to my desire to travel to all these cities, tacking these ridiculous monuments to a long, long list of ‘places I need to see before I die’.  Which is probably a negative really, because that is becoming a ridiculously long list, and I live in Australia, which is approximately a bazillion kilometres from anywhere else in the world.

Is Inferno as good as The Da Vinci Code?  I don’t think so, but perhaps that’s because I don’t know as much about Dante as I do about Da Vinci.  Will Inferno win any awards for outstanding writing?  Definitely not. Will you get a kick out of reading it, as a form of escapism and a general good time?  I would say so.

I’d definitely suggest giving Inferno a go, if you’re not totally against the idea of a blockbuster book (isn’t it nice that blockbuster books still at least exist though, right?).  Not only is it an easy, fun read, but hopefully in the future you’ll score extra points in trivia from learning a whole bunch of art history facts.

Have you read Inferno?  Are you a fan of Dan Brown?  Let me know!

Inferno – (image taken from http://www.independent.co.uk)

First off, before we go any further, in case anyone was wondering what the heck an ‘Aspidistra’ is, it’s a plant.  Apparently a horrible, hard-to-kill, borderline spiky plant that,  if we’re going by the numerous descriptions of them in the book, are in every home in London.  OK, now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s carry on.

Keep The Aspidistra Flying follows the miserable life of Gordon Comstock, a 30 year old man that has decided to fight against society’s dependence onmoney.  As ridiculous as it sounds, Gordon has indeed ‘declared war’ on the economy, and is trying to resist to its powers.  Despite being rather intelligent, and having a ‘good job’ in an advertising agency, Gordon quits to work in a bookstore and focus on his poetry writing.  Although that sounds good in theory, in reality Gordon is paid little to nothing for working long hours in the bookstore, and as a result of his near poverty, Gordon fails to find the time, energy or passion to actually successfully write any poetry.

Ironically, as Gordon quickly learns, the less money a person has, the more important it is.  Although Gordon has lofty ideas of being ‘above’ the need for money, he soon learns that everyone needs money, and his complete lack of it, of course, means it is largely all he thinks about. He alienates friends because they have more than him and are apparently disgraced by his lack of wealth and he cannot provide or support his girlfriend who, in return, cannot see herself marrying him (this is the 1930s after all).  And, perhaps most ironic of all, is when Gordon does find he has a small amount of money he is overwhelmed by what it can buy him, literally and figuratively, and quickly loses control of it, and himself.

Being a George Orwell book, the plot of Keep The Aspidistra wasn’t exactly a walk in Candy Land (I wish).  Gordon is a completely unlikeable character.  Although he has brains and the opportunity to make something of himself, he chooses to avoid it all, making himself miserable for ‘a higher cause’.  What this ‘high cause’ is nobody is all that sure, even Gordon himself, except that he knows he must continue to fulfil it, even though it’s making him desperately miserable.

There were aspects of this novel that I really, really enjoyed.  The first was the accuracy and continual relevance of the plot and the main character, despite it being written 80 years ago.  We all know of a Gordon Comstock, particularly in Australia where it is an insult to be ‘middle class’ or ‘mainstream’. You know the ones.  They have tattoos, wear second-hand filthy clothing, don’t shave, live on the dole and sneer at anything that is commercial or popular.  Because, after all, they are ‘above that’.  And it makes much more sense to sit around in a squallor, being melancholic and pensive about the furrows of life, then actually, you know, go out and live.

Furthermore, when I delved a bit deeper into Orwell’s past, I soon learnt that he himself experienced similar aspects of Gordon’s life before he wrote this book, as well as coming across many Gordon Comstocks who would rather ‘fight the man’ (or whatever the equivalent 1930s version of that is) then apply themselves and contribute to society.

What I particularly liked about Keep The Aspidistra Flying was that it showed the gritty realities of life when we try to live out our ideals.  Does that sound horrible?  I guess, but once again, that’s life.  I’d love to be like Gordon Comstock; a person who fights against capitalism, who is above money and material goods, who focuses on their craft instead of helping out someone richer and more powerful than myself.  In theory that’s great.  But in reality?  I’m not above the system.  I’m not above workplace hierarchy, and just like Gordon, I’d end up dissolute and miserable.

The other aspect of Keep The Aspidistra Flying that stood out for me was the sheer eloquence of George Orwell’s writing.  Yes, his topics of choice are bleak, but damn, he was a fantastic writer.  Despite the fact that this book was written 80 years ago, at no point was I confused, bored, or alienated.  It didn’t matter that Gordon lived in an entire different time and generation to me, thanks to Orwell I felt like I was in the room next to him.  And although Orwell is dealing with some pretty vast and heavy issues (who hasn’t tried to critique society and failed miserably?), he does it in a way that is succinct and easy to understand for the average reader.

I also noticed that while the ending of Gordon was similar to that of protagonists of his other novels (particularly Winston from 1984), I felt that it was for the best for Gordon, which made a nice change.  Yes, he is ‘giving in’ and settling for a ‘good job’, but as a reader I felt almost happy for him, glad that he was finally taking the steps to join society, and dare I say it?  Grow up.

For anyone who hasn’t read George Orwell, I wouldn’t dare suggest that Keep The Aspidistra Flying has had as much an impact on our views of society as 1984 or Animal Farm, but I definitely think it is compelling and relevant.  It is a brilliant well-written novel that continues to strike the heart of the issue almost 80 years later, and I would recommend it to anyone who wants a great read from a very classy author.

Have you read Keep The Aspidistra Flying or any other George Orwell novels?  Let me know!

Keep The Aspidistra Flying – (image taken from http://www.upload.wikimedia.org)

Gone Girl follows the lives of Amy and Nick Dunne, a seemingly beautiful, perfect couple that harbour festering resentment towards one another.  Amy is a golden girl; beautiful, rich, smart, witty and famous by association (her parents wrote the incredibly successful Amazing Amy series, loosely based on her), but she also has deep flaws that she refuses anyone else to see; control issues, a sense of righteousness and a need to always, always be right. Nick, on the other hand, wants to be ‘the nice guy’ who pleases everyone around him, swallowing deeper problems that stem from his parents’ abusive relationship and his dad’s hatred of women.

Set in Missouri after the couple lose their jobs, and Amy loses her trust fund, Gone Girl begins on their 5th anniversary when Amy mysteriously disappears, leaving only a literal paper trail of clues for Nick to follow (it’s an anniversary tradition).  As the clues build up so does the alarming evidence against Nick…and with Amy still missing, he becomes the prime suspect.

Only thing is, despite their rocky marriage, Nick continues to claim his innocence.  And when the evidence seems too conveniently against Nick, and secrets from Amy’s past are re-discovered, we soon learn all is not as it seems.

Of course, that’s only about a third of the novel, but I’m really trying hard not to ruin the plot for you.  Because a spoiler for a great thriller like this one would be an absolute bummer.

Gone Girl was addictive, entertaining and very easy to read.  Flynn is a competent and intelligent writer, and although I could easily sit down and read pages upon pages at a time, at no point did I feel like she was trying to dumb it down for me.  Her characters are incredibly well developed, her descriptions necessary but not overbearing and the storyline superb.

What made the storyline so good?  For me, I was kept constantly interested.  Did he or didn’t he?  What secrets are he and Amy hiding from one other and from the rest of the world?  And although the twists weren’t entirely unexpected, and came in the middle of the novel, I was still intrigued by how the characters would get themselves out of the tangled mess of lies that they’d created for themselves. Furthermore, despite revealing the twist so early on in the storyline, I was still a bit shocked by the ending.  In all honesty, I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.  Not particularly in a ‘what the hell?’ kind of way, but more of a ‘no.  No I don’t know if I like this at all’ kind of way.

I also found I had a strange almost respect for the characters, particularly Amy, despite the fact that they were both awful human beings.  Nick is a liar, a cheater, and overall a not-very-nice person.  He tries hard to look good and make good impressions, but from what I gathered, that goodness only runs skin deep, and then trickles down to nothing.  Yet despite this, I was on his side for the entirety of Gone Girl.

Then there’s Amy.  Now don’t get me wrong, she is a crazy psycho bitch.  No doubt about it.  But she’s also incredibly smart, resourceful, cunning and strong.  She can withstand pain to achieve her goals.  She can plan ahead, forecasting numerous outcomes and even more solutions.  She is comfortable enough in her intelligence and her ingenuity, yet she also does not feel the need to show-off or laud these traits. And while she is an incredibly selfish human being, she also manages to get her way. Every time.

But although she had these positive traits, I wanted her to meet her downfall again and again.  I felt hurt by what she was capable of and how she betrayed the reader (in a way) as much as Nick, and then I was angered by how smart she could be about some things and so ignorant about others.  Much as I tried, I couldn’t emphasise with her, and I knew that she was a very bad person.

The other aspect of this novel that I found particularly intriguing was the continual presence of the media and the effect that it has on the case.  As terrible as the idea of a person being ‘trialled by media’ recent cases have shown us how easily it occurs, and how easily we, as outsiders, can be made to believe what others want us to believe.

I can definitely see why Gone Girl has become an international best seller, and I’m excited for the upcoming film adaptation, particularly since the screenplay is also being written by Gillian Flynn. Unlike many book to film translations, I feel Gone Girl has the potential to enthrall viewers just as much as its novel counterpart.  Flynn has created a thrilling adventure with just a hint of darkness (nothing too scary), complex and unpredictable characters and just a touch of social commentary that pauses the reader, and ideally future viewers, to think.

Have you read Gone Girl?  What did you think? Are you excited for the film version?  Let me know!

Gone Girl – (image taken from http://www.gr-assets.com)

The storyline is pretty straightforward.  Big wedding filled with rich, white people who are slightly different because 20+ years ago they decided to adopt a Columbian boy named Alejandro (Ben Barnes), who is now getting married to the love of his life (who is very, very white), Missy (Amanda Seyfried).  For those who are wondering why I keep bringing up their skin colour, trust me, it’s a vital point of the film.  And by vital I mean, ‘brazen excuse to use racism as a hilarious joke’.  Also, as a sidenote, I’d like to point out that the ‘Columbian’ who is essentially the spoke in the wheel, is actually played by a decidedly white English actor.  But let’s carry on, shall we?

Alejandro’s parents, Don (Robert De Niro) and Ellie (Diane Keaton) have been divorced for a number of years, but when Alejandro’s biological, very religious, and very Columbian (still relevant) mother arrives, they have to pretend to be married so as not to disappoint her.  Makes complete sense.  Only problem is (there are numerous problems, what am I saying?) Don has a long-term girlfriend, Bebe (Susan Sarandon), who suddenly has to disappear.

Then, as I assume the writer, producer and director of this film, Justin Zackham, (because, let’s be honest, no one else was going to be convinced to write, produce or direct this atrocity) hoped, hilarity and gaiety ensure, the audience has a merry old laugh and we walk out of the film being glad that Topher Grace still has a career.

No.

Just. No.

Also,  Katherine Heigl has a part in this film.  Nothing really worth a mention of (despite being a fairly large character), but I wanted everyone to know she was also a part of this awful, awful mess.

Where shall I start? Let’s start with the rampant racism that is across this entire film.  Although Missy’s thoroughly white family are considered a bit stupid to care about Alejandro’s racial background, the rest of the characters continue to perpetuate the problem.  Firstly, the idea that they couldn’t just tell a woman that, you know, divorce happens and it happened to them.  Secondly, that she couldn’t speak any English so they could continue to talk about her and their false marriage right in front of her (ho ho! Let’s make a joke about the fact that some people aren’t as smart as us because they can’t speak English).  Or thirdly, that her daughter, Nuria, is incredibly beautiful and also continually up for getting her kit and her rocks off.  Because let’s all continue the stereotype that Latino women are sluts, shall we?

Then there is the ridiculous concepts that these characters have about relationships and sex.  I’ll try to break it down for you, so try to keep up (it’s fine if you don’t, the storyline is terrible and I’m impressed if you’re still paying attention). Here we go.

Don and Ellie were married for 20 years.

Don cheated and left his wife for her best friend, Bebe, whom he is still with to this day.

While Don and Ellie are pretending to be married they decide to have sex again, just so Ellie can determine if she is really, truly over Don (apparently, she is).

Bebe is OK with that since, in the beginning, she essentially stole Ellie’s husband.

Ellie is OK that Bebe stole her husband all those years ago, because back then she cheated on Don with Missy’s father, Barry.

Barry’s wife, Muffin, is OK with this because she is actually a closet lesbian.

Hilarious!

And then, to cap it all off, brother Jared, who is 29, and still a virgin because he is waiting for love.  Until he sees naked Nuria and she says “let’s have sex tonight”! (Once again, not perpetuating any racial prejudices of course).  He’s all up for it, and she makes him work for it (flowers, breakfast in bed, really hard stuff to achieve of course), but then, she decides she doesn’t want to do it.

Yes!  A moment when this film gets something right.  A woman deciding she doesn’t have to have sex with anyone, that she is allowed to make choices, that she is an independent wom…

Hang on.  No wait.  The next 2 minutes consist of Jared basically trying her to convince her to sleep with him because ‘he deserves it’.  And really, considering he made her breakfast in bed and she decided that she did want to have sex with him (no matter that she changed her mind), she does owe him.  Because that’s how healthy sexual relationships work.

And of course, because this is meant to be a hilarious rom-com where everyone ends up happy, they decide to have sex.  Oh wonderful!  Thank you Justin Zackham for catering to the needs of potential rapists, dickheads and anyone who has wanted something they shouldn’t have!  Seriously, I can take most things in a film, but this?  This?  That she OWES it to him?  That because she got naked and swam in front of him, he DEMANDS sex?  What on EARTH were you thinking when you wrote these lines?  And that he eventually gets his way?  Great.  Thank you.  Just for anyone who has watched this film, I hope you did what I did and mentally punched Jared square in the face.  Because he is an example of what is wrong with our society.

On top of that, the supposed hilarity of families, partners, friends and loved ones cheating, lying and hurting one another because they can’t keep it in their pants.  How on earth is this meant to be funny?  Oh, you stole my husband from me, and you were meant to be my best friend, but don’t worry, I’ll get you back over a decade later.  And then we’ll both be OK with it, because come on, men will be men and Don can’t help keeping it in his pants!  Ho ho!  Let’s add sexism to the list of atrocities in this film.

Can I just very quickly, put something out there?  Cheating is awful.  It is wrong.  It is immoral and it causes so much pain.  It is not fodder for a romantic comedy.  It isn’t funny.  It isn’t romantic and on top of that, it’s really not all that clever or classy either.

So, now that I’ve essentially ruined the plot for anyone who planned on seeing this film, and ripped it to shreds (sorry if you did like it though), let’s remember who was in this film.  Remember when De Niro was cool?  When Sarandon was in fantastic films like Thelma and Louise?  When Seyfried had witty one-liners in Mean Girls?

All of these actors chose to be in this film.

While I went into this film knowing it was going to be bad, and a bit stupid, I thought I would still have a bit of fun.  That I could switch my brain off for a couple of hours and just look at pretty people.

I have learnt my lesson.

Don’t watch this film.  Don’t tell anyone to watch this film.  And if you have already seen this film, I sincerely feel sorry for you.

While I don’t usually have a star system, let’s assume I usually have one, and there’s a reason why I have included no stars.  Because this film is awful.

Have you seen The Big Wedding?  Did it make you cry?  Did it make you lose all hope in filmmaking?  Or, am I over thinking everything, and you found it to be a blast?  Let me know!

The Place Beyond The Pines is clearly defined in three separate acts, that focus on Luke Glanton (Ryan Gosling), Avery Cross (Bradley Cooper) and their two sons 15 years later, respectively.

In the first act, we’re introduced to Luke, who is well-known for his daring and impressive stunts as a motorcyclist in a travelling fair.  While in town he is reunited with an ex-lover, Romina (Eva Mendes), and he soon learns that she has given birth to his son.  Despite the fact that he can’t support either of them, and that she now lives with her boyfriend, he moves to town to help raise his child.  However, when Luke realises that he cannot get by on minimum wage, and with a desperate need to both be a part of his son’s life and impress Romina, he turns to robbing banks, using his phenomenal skill and speed as a motorcyclist to get away every time.

Of course, this leads to pretty bad consequences.

In the second act, we focus on Avery, who is a cop that deals with Luke’s case.  Made out to be a hero, he feels uncomfortable by the corrupt cops that he is forced to work and rely on.  When he is confided in by a police officer friend, he realises that he has the ability to once again be the hero, as well as move his way up the corporate ladder.

In the third act, 15 years later, Avery and Luke’s sons become associated with one another during high school with terrible consequences (just putting it out there, this film has a fair few terrible consequences), each suffering from the effects of their father’s actions of the past.

So how did I feel about this film?   First it has to be said, this is a really long movie, almost 2 and a half hours.  While I’ve watched a fair few long films this year at the cinemas, this one seemed so much longer by comparison.  This may have been because it was so clearly marked out into three sections (each of which could have almost been their own film), or because the storyline and messages along with it were so heavy and, frankly, rather miserable, or perhaps because of the lulls in the story arch.  Perhaps all three?  Whatever it was, I felt like my brain had been kneaded for 2 and a half hours, which as a general rule, isn’t the ideal situation after going to the cinemas.

While from a purely cinematic perspective, I could appreciate that this was a high quality film.  Gosling, Cooper and Mendes are all competent actors that make their characters believable and even at times, likeable (as is the case with Luke, despite being a heavily tattooed motorcyclist for an affinity for attacking people with hammers). I found the cinematography at times rather beautiful and captivating to watch, particularly the scenes that showed the pine trees blurred and almost undulating in the breeze.

Although at times the storyline was slow, the underlying message of the consequences of past actions resonated throughout the film, with nuances from beginning to end, from Avery’s rash decision in the line of fire, to his absence as a father while his child was growing up.

However, even though, technically, I could see why this film was a success, I just didn’t like it. It was just such a hard film to watch.  That might sound weird but it’s so weighty, and deals again and again with issues that are depressing (yet not all that entertaining), that I just lost the patience for it.  While I thoroughly enjoyed the first act, I started to lose interest in the second, and it was almost completely gone by the third.

Furthermore, Avery’s son, AJ, was perhaps one of the most vile characters I’ve ever had to deal with.  He wasn’t a murderer, he didn’t particularly have much screen time, but there was something about him that just frustrated and angered me, but also bored me.  I didn’t care that he was lazy, or that he did drugs, or that he thought he was a hard-hitting tough guy who didn’t take anything from anyone, to me he was just a pain in the arse.  While I’m sure this was emphasised to show, once again, Avery’s actions and the eventual consequences, I also found it irritating that I had to sit through 40 minutes of his actions.

Overall, if you’re a serious film person, if you love Ryan Gosling, or you have more patience than me (likely) than I would suggest seeing The Place Beyond The Pines.  However, if you are after a film that doesn’t mean you have to think too deeply, or is a timeout from life, then I wouldn’t suggest this film for you.

Have you seen The Place Beyond The Pines?  What did you think?  Did you find it enjoyable?  Let me know!

Madame Bovary follows the life of Emma Bovary, a beautiful and shallow woman who is married to the mediocre, yet well-meaning and very loving doctor, Charles Bovary.  Raised on superfluous and romantic novels throughout her childhood, Emma is disheartened by the ordinariness of her married life to a middle-class, unattractive, man.  Bored by small country-town life, and unmoved by the birth of her daughter, Emma uses her charm and good looks to attain the attention of other men, believing herself to be in love with them (until she grows bored with them of course).  On top of her adulterous behaviour, Emma plunges the family into debt, buying beautiful things she believes she is entitled to, yet cannot afford.

When I first began reading Madame Bovary, I was disinterested and couldn’t find a connection with the central character, Emma.  To me she was shallow, vain, not entirely smart and very entitled.  She emphasised the bad that I believe is in most of us, and what was worse, she failed to understand the role she plays in her own downfall.  Instead, she continued to put the blame on the numerous men within her life, from Charles, for being boorish and plain, to one of her lovers, Leon, because he failed to love her enough and keep her interest.

Her obsession with romance, which stemmed from readings novels as a young girl, allows her to justify her behaviour, and although she herself wasn’t wealthy or particularly intelligent, she was still a classist, looking down on those around her, including her own husband, for not having the same manners or money that she felt she had (or ought to have).

Yet, when I delved deeper, I realised that this novel, and essentially Emma’s undoing, was about coveting what we cannot, or should not, have.  And haven’t we all been there before?

Who hasn’t wanted to buy something that we couldn’t necessarily afford?  Who hasn’t lusted over an actor or daydreamed about a perfect lover that will one day sweep us off our feet?  Who hasn’t wanted the love, or at the very least, the attention of someone whom we know we should not be concerned about?  When I realised this, I began to understand Emma, and while her actions were not acceptable, and gluttonous by any means, I realised why she was acting the way she did.

Furthermore, I realised that Emma’s actions were a form of power, and although not successful, and not moral, it did make me pity Emma.  In the middle of the 1800s, women had little to no control over their lives, save for the effect that they had on men.  And Emma, who is charming, beautiful and elegant, realised that if she wanted to have any control over her life, it was to be through her sexuality.  While there were underlying themes that offset this, as a reader, I continually saw Emma as a woman who was very, very unhappy with her life and tried to make changes the only way she knew how; by making men fall in love with her.

Of course, this backfires terribly on Emma, who, as someone who is used to being adored and loved (because, despite all her flaws and traitorous actions, Charles still continues to love her deeply), she fails to understand the importance and duality on relationships, and is left alone time and time again.

Then, when Emma is given financial power, she blows it on trinkets and clothing, trying to satisfy her need for beauty in her life.  And although Emma may get some sort of temporary pleasure out of these objects, her small amount of power once again leads to her demise and she is forced to go to those that she once held power over to ask for money; Leon and Rodolphe.

Madame Bovary is considered one of Flaubert’s finest works because of his flawless use of Realism, all the more impressive considering Flaubert was a well-known fan of Romanticism.  Realism is a writing style that depicts contemporary life and society as it was, without the flairs that many novels of that era had.  Considering the juxtaposition of the excessively romantic Emma, the novel portrays the mundane and mediocre life that many women were forced to endure in loveless marriages during that time.

Considered by many a ‘perfect’ work of fiction and established as one of the greatest novels ever written, Madame Bovary shows the effects that mediocracy can have when there is nowhere left to turn.  Although at times I found the writing excessively detailed, yet very beautiful, and Emma hard to bear, I would suggest Madame Bovary to anyone who wishes to explore a different era, a well-known writing style or a complex character.

Have you read Madame Bovary?  What did you think?  Let me know!

Madame Bovary – (image taken from http://www.findthebest.com)

Dare Me is told from the perspective of high school cheerleader Addy Hanlon after her squad is turned upside down by the arrival of the new Coach.  Though most of the cheerleaders flourish and grow under the mesmerising, mysterious and beautiful Coach French, there’s one exception: Beth Cassidy, former Cheer Captain and best friend to Addy.

Although Beth is beautiful, she’s also trouble and controlling, with a firm hold on the squad, who are constantly captivated by her words and actions, no matter how nefarious her true intentions are.  Despite the tumultuous friendship that she and Addy have, their relationship is complex and at times unnerving, and although Addy tells herself otherwise, she is continually manipulated by Beth.

However, their friendship begins to crack, with Beth becoming increasingly jealous, when Addy and Coach French become closer to one another.  Adding fuel to the fire, Addy becomes witness to a crime, with both Coach French and Beth holding important clues that could break or make each of their friendships.

For me, this book held a lot of potential. Although, thankfully, I have left the world of high school, and overall had an excellent group of girlfriends, there’s still something sinister and very interesting about the dynamic of high school girls and the friendships that they have between them.  Every girl who has been through high school probably knows what I mean.  Encouraging each other to do things just a little bit wicked, talking behind one another’s backs over complete non-issues (that in turn become issues after all the gossiping occurring behind one’s back) and believing that it’s the end of the world if we’re excluded, or cease to fit in.

Teenagers.

So, as a result, I was interested in how Abbott would portray these complex relationships, particularly the weird friendship-triangle between Addy, Beth and Coach French.  Not to mention the amount of peer pressure and pseudo-friendships that must occur within a high school cheerleading squad.  Unfortunately, Dare Me, wasn’t what I expected or hoped for.

The biggest problem that I had with this novel was that I couldn’t believe in the friendship between Beth and Addy.  While there are always female friendships that are complex and confusing to the outsider, there is still a strong link that allows the friendship to continue.  Yet, try as I might, I couldn’t find a single reason why Beth and Addy were still best friends, aside from the idea that Addy was so terrified of Beth and her actions that she just went along with it.

To me, Beth was awful.  There were perhaps two or there occasions where her supposed ‘true personality’ shone out and she acted like a true friend, but otherwise her actions were poisonous, as she calculated her every mood to trap Addy.  And while she is considered the loose cannon of the novel, I just kept wondering why the squad just stopped putting up with her ridiculous behaviour and tell her to shove it.

On the other hand, I understood why Addy became so enchanted by the idea of Coach. An older woman who is beautiful and apparently in complete control, it’s a friendship that at that age most girls aspire to.  And as a result, I found it completely plausible that Addy is uncertain who to side with when things get a tad…messy.

Secondly, I was disappointed by both the pacing of the novel and the twists and plots that unfolded.  When I began reading, I was intrigued and I couldn’t get enough of it.  And while it ended strongly, I had at that point become disinterested.  Furthermore, while I expected a twist, when it came I was let down; surely the author was gearing up for something more?  The result was that I became somewhat ambivalent and apathetic about the characters and their eventual outcome.

Overall, Dare Me is a well-written and interesting novel that is enjoyable and very easy-to-read.  However, if you’re after something a bit more in-depth, original or insightful, then I would suggest giving this one a miss.

Have you read Dare Me or anything by Megan Abbott?  Let me know!

Dare Me – (image taken from http://www.books.google.com)

Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland, written way back in 1865 is a much-loved classic, that has been read by many generations and converted for the screen multiple times.  But considering it’s such a small novel, and based for such a young age, why is it that Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland is continually enjoyed and adored by people of all ages?

Personally, I think it was the idea of croquet being played with flamingos and hedgehogs.  Or perhaps the Queen of Hearts whose declarations of ‘Off with their head’ poignantly reminds each of us of that overbearing individual that we’re forced to endure in our lives.  But these are just personal favourites.

The beauty of Carroll’s writing lies in the simplicity and logic, combined with the fantastical, that leaves us all scratching our heads while having a merry good time along the way.  For clarity, as previously mentioned, the term ‘nonsense literature’ is a style of writing that deliberates creates nonsense and confusion through an excess of meaning, rather than a lack of it.  While this in itself is a tad confusing, when in writing, it’s easy to understand how the reader, not to mention Alice herself, often becomes somewhat befuddled.

An example:

Then you should say what you mean, ” the March Hare went on.

“I do”, Alice hastily replied; “at least – at least I mean what I say – that’s the same thing, you know”.

“Not the same thing a bit!” said the Hatter.  ”You might just as well say that “I see what I eat” is the same thing as “I eat what I see”!”

See what I mean?  It makes sense, yet it’s a little bit confusing nonetheless.

What I personally enjoyed the most out of the Carroll’s writing was his brilliant use of words.  Whether it was his colourful descriptions, or the idiosyncrasies of his characters, or even the sheer goodness of his puns.  Because let’s be honest, who doesn’t love a good pun?

Reading Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland reminded me of the importance of a good book, regardless of when it was written and who it was written for.  There is a reason why Lewis Carroll still stands as an inspirational and thought-provoking writer, almost 150 years after Alice first set out into Wonderland.

Have you read Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland, or seen any of the film adaptations?  Are you a fan of Lewis Carroll?  Let me know!

Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland – (image taken from http://www.library.ubc)