The Konkans

When Ultrabrown posted about Tony D'Souza's new book The Konkans, and mentioned it was the story of a family created when a white woman who believed India to be her spiritual home married (as D'Souza puts it) "the one living-and-breathing souvenir of that place who could also get a job in America," I knew I had to schedule a block of time to visit Borders and read this book.

It is a lot like The Namesake, in that D'Souza and Lahiri both focus on squeezing about forty years of events into 150 pages, and thus the stories of the families themselves seem a bit surface-level; timeline rather than narrative. This happened, then this, then this. Unlike Lahiri, D'Souza presumes omniscience and tells the history not through the viewpoint of himself as his parents' son (this isn't a second-gen coming of age story; in fact, D'Souza's role in his own family narrative is tangential), but as a sort of floating narrator who attempts to portray everyone's motives and flaws honestly and equally.

The result is a depiction of characters both sympathetic and slightly repelling. Without giving too much away, it becomes clear that this unhappy family is unhappy in its own way because at the very start, the union of husband and wife was built on a double bait-and-switch; Denise, the white woman who travels to India via the Peace Corps to escape a childhood of poverty and abuse, and who wants more than anything to stay in the country where she first achieves a sense of agency and purpose, marries Lawrence assuming he is her ticket to an Indian passport; while Lawrence, who knows full well that he is using Denise to get to America (he and his parents conspire to make her life in India so miserable that she will begin to yearn for the comforts of the US), moves them both to Chicago only to find that Denise comes from a family of white trash and that he has, without knowing it, "married below his caste."

And then there's Lawrence's brother Samuel, whose visa Denise sponsors and who becomes the only person in her life to appreciate her for who she is. This kind of story is guaranteed a happy ending.

The characters in The Konkans are all searching for identities, and it is telling that the character who is most comfortable with his identity is neither the American wife wanting to raise an Indian family nor the Indian husband wanting to raise an American family, but Sam, the brother, who attempts -- and achieves -- a hybrid of both worlds. (That is, until Sam's father sends a letter telling Sam that a bride is waiting for him back in India.) We don't know enough about D'Souza's character to know where he fit into this family story (he ends his family narrative while his character is still a child), or how he built his own identity between the warring impulses of his parents, but -- as Ultrabrown notes -- he has already written about this subject in other novels and articles.

So. Would I recommend? I suppose my initial response is "sure, why not," but at the same time... well... let's put it this way. There are much better books out there, and better memoirs, and better discussions of cultural identity; but no other book with this particular combination of characters. That's the reason to pick it up and give it a try.

Live-Blogging His Dark Materials, Part IV: Lyra's Oxford

Last night I read Lyra's Oxford, the short sequel to His Dark Materials and the prequel to The Book of Dust.

Pullman describes it as a story that, while it was being written, collected to it scraps of paper which "might be connected with the story, or they might not; they might be connected to stories that haven’t appeared yet." He states that these papers floated through doors from world to world, blown by winds, until they collected here, in his book.

I suppose these papers did their floatings before the doors between the worlds were closed.

The story itself is short and not particularly memorable; it's kind of like a MOTW where Lyra is chased by a witch who is trying to kill her (because the witch's son died fighting for Lord Asriel and we know that witches kinda get venegancy when people they love disappear), and meets an alchemist who isn't actually an alchemist -- he's using it as a cover so that people will think he's crazy and ignore the actual scientific work he's doing in his basement. We don't find out what that work is, although my money's on "meth lab." *__^

One of the most interesting things in the book, however, comes in one of Pullman's "scraps of paper" (these are actual pieces of paper kept separately within the book's pages, Jolly Postman-style). It's a list of books written by Jordan Scholars, one of which is titled With Gun and Rod in the Hindu Bush, by Captain R. T. G. Collins.

So. Let's theorize here. Was the Authority also the Hindu Authority? (And would that be Vishnu, Brahma, or Shiva?) If the Authority wasn't the Hindu Authority, then did their faith remain unchanged? Do the Angels hang around the Hindu Bush, or do they leave those crazy people alone? Do they try to convert them?

I guess I was assuming that Lyra's world was an entirely Christian world, as that was what Pullman had set up for us previously. Even Will, who comes from our world, doesn't mention anything about people from other religions. It would have been interesting if he had said something to Lyra along the lines of "in my world, not everyone believes in Adam and Eve and the Church's God." But... Pullman seemed to want to limit his book to a critique on the Christian church only.

So, to my readers: does knowing that Lyra's world contains people who don't belong to the Church or the Authority change Pullman's atheist message and philosophies? If so, how?

Live-Blogging His Dark Materials, Part III

I finished The Amber Spyglass two days ago, but didn't blog it yesterday because I was busy watching the politics.

It was the sort of book where the impact of the ending took over and made me forget the details of the earlier parts; so I need to read it again. (I'll have plenty of opportunity, as this foot cast is going to stay on for another two months.)

Here are some thoughts, as they cross my mind.

* Metatron. I know Metatron is part of the Judeo-Christian mythology, but I couldn't look at the name without imagining Godzilla Vs. in front of it.

* You can see how the technological differences between 1995 (when The Golden Compass was published) and 2000 (when The Amber Spyglass was published) filtered through into Pullman's text. He gives us, in Amber Spyglass, an internet, courtesy of the Gallivespians and their lodestones. Even in a parallel universe, Pullman can't imagine a world without email.

* The serpent, in the form of Mary Malone, offering Lyra and Will the gift of knowledge. Which isn't "what is the nature of G-d," because they've already learned, Wizard of Oz-style, that God is just an old man hiding behind a curtain; nor is this knowledge the meaning of life and death, since Lyra and Will have already traveled through the land of the dead and discovered what we are meant to do after we die. What Mary Malone gives Lyra and Will is the knowledge of the flesh. In short, she teaches them about sex.

* Which they promptly have. Lyra is 12 and Will is 13. This was the only part of the book that disturbed me a little. Lyra, after all, hasn't even started menstruating yet. Yes, Pullman is pretty vague about what happens in that forest, and doesn't give us any paragraphs about "throbbing manhoods" or anything like that (thank goodness), but they lose some kind of virginity in that forest, and even my liberal heart says that's at least three years too young.

* Pan becomes a marten, eh? I hope I wasn't the only reader who had to look that one up.

* There's something very satisfying about Lord Asriel and Mrs. Coulter sacrificing themselves by pushing Megatron into the infinite abyss. The thought of them falling, down and down, for the rest of eternity is a little chilling, however. I hope Pullman realized that he wrote them a way out: when the angels go to close the doors between the worlds, they say they will close up the abyss as well. Surely, while they're there, one of them could dip inside and bring Lord Asriel and Mrs. Coulter back to the surface.

* There's something much less satisfying about the "we have to close all of the doors so you and Will can never see each other again" business. Sure, the idea that Lyra and Will would have to separate was kind of a given; but the reasoning behind it seems a little contrived. The doors create Specters? The most idiotic villains in the book? Oh, and Dust is leaking out of them?

This also doesn't bode well for philosophies on international or intercultural relationships. Lyra and Will come from "different worlds," so they can never be together because "neither of them can survive in the other's world." It makes me start humming West Side Story's "Stick to your own kind/stick to your own kind..."

On the other hand, Adam and Eve were banished from paradise. But they were banished together.

* Pullman did write a note at the end of this edition; a series of what he called "Lantern Slides" distilling images of what happened to certain characters after the trilogy's conclusion; he included a scene which implies that Lyra and Will do talk, across space and time, at the wood bench in Oxford. Assumedly this works because Mary planted those magic seeds there, which grew up into a lovely tree.

* Which brings me to: people who cross into other worlds die, but seeds grow? And don't tell me it has to do with humans having Dust, because those seeds Mary planted were the very essence of Dust itself.

* So. The central philosophy. The innocence of childhood can reveal things us adults can't understand; then the kids are supposed to grow up and have sex, whereupon they have to spend the rest of their lives re-learning what came to them naturally before their sexual awakening.

* I hated that the alethiometer just "clicked off" in Lyra's hands. That was unfair. And she suddenly couldn't remember what the symbols meant? That didn't make sense either. It would have been better if she could remember the symbols, but couldn't control the hands, or something like that.

* And yeah, cried at the end. Poor Lyra and Will.

There is a short "sequel" titled Lyra's Oxford, which Pullman evidently means as a short prequel to his next book, The Story of Dust (in progress). This I look forward to reading, if only to find out how much Pullman lets Lyra and Will communicate, or if he introduces a new love interest for either of them. ^__^

His Dark Materials: A Note On Names

A brief note before I launch into The Amber Spyglass:

Given what we know about Pullman's naming predilections, we can assume that the metaphors of the last book will have something to do with Lies and Free Will defeating the Angel of Death and the Sexy Spokeswoman for the Republican Party. ^__^

Oh, and Serafina turns out to be an Angel. Somehow.

To be nitpicky for a moment: since Lord Asriel is currently building an army to attack God, he's not actually the Angel of Death, and his name should be something like Lord Lucius. On the other hand, since Will and Lyra already figured out that certain things "switch names" in various worlds (e.g. electrons and amber), perhaps in Lyra's world Asriel was Lucifer, and vice versa.

(I posted on Ultrabrown that I wanted a professional job as a fact-checker someday. I get a kick at poking around details.)

Catch y'all later -- is there some game or something going on this afternoon?

Live-Blogging His Dark Materials, Part II

Read The Subtle Knife in two stretches over the course of the day, the first in a Starbucks, which I don't recommend (I had gotten a gift card from my temp agency, and had an absolutely disgusting, oversugared mocha coffee thing).

Anyway. Will probably start Amber Spyglass tonight, but I want to write down my thoughts before I peek ahead.

The most interesting part of the philosophy of Subtle Knife can be summed up in two quotes:

Both the Oblation Board and the Specters of Indifference are bewitched by this truth about human beings: that innocence is different from experience. The oblation Board fears and hates Dust, and the Specters feast on it, but it's Dust both of them are obsessed by.

Her last conscious thought was disgust at life; her senses had lied to her. The world was not made of energy and delight but of foulness, betrayal, and lassitude. Living was hateful, and death was no better, and from end to end of the universe this was the first and last and only truth.

So Dust, which equals consciousness and/or Angels, settles on a human body when he or she gains life experience. However, once this dust is taken away, life becomes meaningless and the person becomes seriously depressed/mentally ill/catatonic.

What's puzzling me is that if these novels are truly "atheistic" as the critics claim, then they should indicate that a human being can live a full and complete life without needing religious belief or faith. Yet Angels seem inexorably linked to the idea of faith. One can't believe in Angels without believing in God, or at least in a power stronger than what can be seen on Earth. Perhaps Pullman will explain that Angels are linked to science; special particles within atoms or something like that.

It's also interesting that Dust is also explained as "consciousness." We're back around to that free will argument again, and I'm interested to see how Pullman plays it.

Looking back on the "living is hateful, and death is no better" quote: it seems linked with my earlier reflection on the sadness of "the loss of possibility." People have asked me before how I stay in good spirits about things, and... well, first of all the truth is that I don't always stay in good spirits, but I think part of my general ebullience is that I see my life as a story and am very interested to find out what is going to happen next. Lost in Dworka Sector? That'll make a good story. Nothing in the kitchen but a bag of dal and a box of crackers, and no cash in the bank account? I'm really excited to see where I'm going to go with that one. Broke the ol' foot? Now I get to see what an operating room looks like!

I know it's cavalier, but it has to do with my belief in possibility. Something interesting is bound to happen, and I can't wait to find out what it is. Would Pullman consider this belief "childlike?" I suppose I'll have to read to the end to find out.

Other musings:

* Though it isn't stated, I'm assuming Serafina Pekkala escapes being killed by Specters because Lee Scoresby used his flower to summon her. Interesting that the flower, which was given to Lee so that he might be saved by Serafina, saves the witch instead.

* Specters, on Earth, manifest themselves as mental illnesses. That's fascinating. Since this novel is based in science, Pullman must be suggesting that chemical imbalances in the brain are caused by a lack of Dust.

* Specters are also, apparently, Dementors. Black-robed creatures who suck out your soul by putting their mouth to yours. As Prisoner of Azkaban was published two years after Subtle Knife, I'm giving the credit for the idea to Pullman. Unless, of course, you consider the Ringwraiths (again, fifteen-gazillionth person to note this).

* Specters could, of course, actually be Dementors (in a parallel universe)... because that parallel world Ruta Skadi talks about, where young men and women fly around on brooms doing magic, is totally Hogwarts.

* Even though Grumman thinks he has broken his oath to Lee Scoresby, I'm betting what he tells Will actually does more to protect Lyra than if he hadn't said anything at all.

* I hope in the next book we get to see Mary Malone fall in love with someone, and I hope it's implied that they have fantastic, passionate s3x.

* Oh, and the only Indian character we've seen in the books (so far) runs a convenience store.

Enough for now. We'll chat again when I've finished the trilogy.

Live-Blogging His Dark Materials

When my poor foot went under the knife, a friend loaned me the Philip Pullman His Dark Materials trilogy, as a recuperation present. 900 pages guaranteed to keep me off my feet, as it were.

For whatever reason, I missed Dark Materials the first time the books were published (1995-2000), which puzzles me. I can only assume that it was because this "atheist fantasy trilogy" never made it to my Midwestern hometown school library. Certainly I read every fantasy book on the local shelves, including The Prydain Chronicles (loved), The Dark is Rising (hated), and the Enchanted Forest books (the first in the series is possibly the best fantasy parody ever).

Anyway. I just finished Golden Compass (in one long stretch) and am going to drop a few responses. Here be spoilers, obviously.

* I can't take Lord Asriel seriously because of his name. Poor guy. Yes, he was originally named after the Angel of Death (and the name also shows up in Madeline L'Engle's Many Waters as one of the seraphim), but whenever I hear the name I am prompted, however unfortunately, to think of Lord Asriel Abyss.

* What prompted Roger to accompany Lyra in the last chapters? Pullman never says. Chapter 20 ends with Lyra telling Iorek that she is going to find Lord Asriel, and Chapter 21 begins with Roger riding along beside her. Because of the plot twist at the ending, I feel like we missed a scene where Lyra invites Roger, or Lyra decides she needs Roger with her, or Roger begs to come and Lyra finally relents.

* The story contains a lot of familiar tropes (Lyra's an orphan who turns out to be of noble blood, etc.), but what makes it stand out are the philosophies woven through the book. I think I'm probably the fifteen-gazillionth reviewer to make that comment. I'm very interested to see where Pullman goes with this Dust idea, particularly as I already know (thank you, Salon) that the series ends with... well, I won't be like Salon's movie review and spoil it for you.

* I can't help reading the fixing of the daemon in adulthood as a metaphor for "the end of possibility." Thank you, quarterlife crisis.

* On that matter, although I know from another movie review (which I'm not going to take the time to look up) that Pullman, unlike C. S. Lewis, is pro-maturity and pro-sex, I find it a little troubling that all of the adults presented in Golden Compass are tragically flawed. Grow up, kids. Embrace the Dust. So you can turn into... an unctuous Scholar? a crabby Gyptian? Mrs. Coulter?

* Had to laugh that the biggest villain in the book (so far) is called Mrs. Coulter.

* Loved the chapters where the bears wanted daemons. I think by the time I finish this trilogy I'm going to want a daemon.

* After finishing the book and then going to YouTube to watch the movie trailer, I was surprised (and disappointed) to hear Lyra's name pronounced "Lyra" instead of "Lira." Since Lyra spends most of the book lying her way out of things, this suggests that Pullman's naming creativity is on par with J. K. Rowling's (who named a future werewolf "Remus Lupin," and then expected us to be surprised when he started baying at the moon). It also suggests that Lord Asriel will probably turn out to be the Angel of Death, after all.

* I was also surprised to see the daemons presented as solid creatures. I had imagined them to be slightly transparent, airy, ethereal. Having the soul of a cat running alongside you is not the same as having an actual cat, after all.

* And on that note, what a great book to read while snuggled next to a kitty. Every time Pantalaimon got some cuddling, Miri did too. ^__^

* Oh, and if this is one of those books where, at the end, Pantalaimon turns into his final form but the narrator coyly doesn't tell us what it is, I'm going to throw all 900 pages across the room.

On to The Subtle Knife!

American Girl Has Introduced A New Doll. This Time, She's A Pole Dancer.

Okay, not really.

But doesn't she look like one?

Julie, btw, seems based off of the same model as the retired Kailey doll. Also, I know too much American Girl trivia.

Julie's also got a "friend doll," Ivy Ling. Ivy, AG's first "second-gen" doll (assumed via context -- I can't confirm it until I sneak into Borders and read the book), deals with a rather predictable culture-clash scenario:

The only place Ivy feels at home is at gymnastics. But this year the big gymnastics tournament is scheduled for the same day as the annual Ling family reunion.

Someone on that creative team watched a little too much Bend It.

Ivy is also being promoted as AG's "first Asian doll," despite the release of Jess Akiko McConnell in 2005. Jess, however, was promoted as AG's "first biracial doll." Incidentally, she and Ivy share the same face model, which goes to prove that AG thinks all Asian dolls, whether Irish-Japanese-American or Chinese-American, look alike.

No, wait.

What it really proves is that I know way too much American Girl trivia.

Who's Your Daemon?

From Jabberwock's review of The Golden Compass, and an essay on the trouble with transferring fantasy novels to the screen, comes a link to "create your own daemon!"

Here's mine:


Modest? Um... really? Other than that, it's pretty accurate. Particularly because I have a tiny animal, in those exact colors, purring next to me right now.

Who's your daemon?

Persepolis: War is Horrible, Family is Wonderful, Art is Beautiful, Quarter-Life Crises are Universal

Yesterday, while I was waiting for my landlord to restore water to my building, I went to Borders and read Persepolis.

Cover-to-cover, both parts, in one long sitting.

It was fantastic. I want to read it again to catch all of the parts I missed the first time. I wasn't familiar with much of the history (the Iran hostage crisis, yes, but everything else... no, unfortunately), so reading it -- especially with Satrapi's "jumping back and forth in time" narrative -- was like putting together a list; what happened when? Who did what to whom?

When the list became muddled, I gave it up and focused entirely on the characters. The Satrapi family is, after all, the heart of the story. I soon became enveloped in their world, mesmerized by the emotion revealed through pages of simple pen-and-ink:


(Image taken from Amazon's "Search Inside!" feature.)

By the time I reached the second half of the book, I was surprised to see how much I seemed to identify with the character of Marjane. She spent her childhood under the shadow of violence, bombings, and repressed liberty, after all, and I spent my childhood... well, here. But there she was, moved (by her parents, for her own safety) to a boarding house in a country halfway around the world where she didn't speak the language and didn't know anybody, and I thought "yeah, I've been there." The way she negotiated Austria was much the way in which I negotiated India.

Then there was the long section in which Marjane, alone over the holidays, realizes she has nothing to do with her time except read (this is the section in which she makes four trips to the supermarket in one day just because it puts her in contact with other people), and I thought "that's exactly what I am doing now."

Then, of course, the final chapters of the book, in which an adult Marjane, returned to Iran, tries to puzzle out what she should do with her life: should an educated woman pursue a career? a husband? children? How can a woman form an equal relationship with a male partner? How does this fit in with being a citizen who fights for social change? How much can one give up and still be oneself?

I thought "It's the quarter-life crisis!" Even in Iran. Even after a childhood without the privilege and entitlement characteristic of "quarter-life" Americans. Even after being sent away from one's family at fourteen and left to fend for oneself in a foreign country.

Even after a remarkably, unimaginably different life, Marjane and her friends ask themselves the same questions I (and my friends) ask. That's something worth considering.

I can't wait for the movie.


And...

When I got back to the apartment, there was water! Woo-hoo!

Pretty Blue's Diary: 2008 Edition

Tuesday 1 January

118 lbs (dear heavens), chocolate units 2 (emptied the Christmas Godiva box), calories 700 (approx. -- peas are one of those dangerous high caloric vegetables, I believe).

Food Consumed Today:

1 cup coffee
Three-egg omelette w/4 oz. frozen peas, ground chilis
One mint-filled chocolate
One coconut-filled chocolate

Two p.m. Snowed in: my flat. Ugh. The last thing on earth I feel physically, mentally, or emotionally equipped to do is to spend another day indoors with my cat. First day of New Year has been day of boredom. Already scoured countertops, using combination of cleaning agents found underneath the sink (do cleaning agents expire? must check...), this time actually scrubbing at stove burners, etc. instead of giving general once-over swipe for removal of crumbs and appearance of cleanliness.

Wish dratted snow would stop. Can see car from window, or rather outline of car as if car were car-shaped snowman. Snow has also downed telly reception, ensuring limit of channels to one fuzzy sports game of something-or-another.

What I wouldn't give to be at a turkey curry buffet right now.

Eat Pray Love: A Journey of Extraordinary Privilege

I got a copy of Eat Pray Love: One Woman's Search for Everything Across Italy, India, and Indonesia for Christmas, for obvious reasons. It's a very.... tricky book. On the one hand, it's not at all bad. Sure, it's written in the easy-on-the-eyes, slangy chick-lit style; there are a few awkward, presumptive statements about groups of people (e.g. "The staff is Balinese, which means they automatically start adoring you and complimenting you on your beauty as soon as you walk in"); but it's never boring. For what it's worth, Eat Pray Love is quick-paced and quick-witted.

The trouble comes in what author Elizabeth Gilbert leaves out of her narrative. Most of the leaving-out comes in the early part of the book, in which she describes her life before she jets off on this intense journey of "finding herself."

Gilbert writes, early on, a description of herself as "the primary breadwinner and the housekeeper and the social coordinator and the dog-walker and the wife and the soon-to-be mother, and -- somewhere in my stolen moments -- a writer."

A description of Everywoman, right? How many people do you suppose cooed with identification at that particular paragraph, and then sighed with envy a few pages later when we learn that Gilbert's bright idea to write a book about traveling netted her enough advance money to finance her entire trip?

Except... it's not like that. Elizabeth Gilbert is not an "in my stolen moments" kind of writer. She's a professional one, with a list of magazine publications as long as my arm and four successful previous books.

One publication in particular you might recognize, though you're probably unaware of its source. Elizabeth Gilbert wrote the autobiographical piece that later became the film Coyote Ugly.*

So, right from the beginning, we're not dealing with Everywoman. We're dealing with a woman who has already been played on-screen by Piper Perabo, and who will soon be played again by Julia Roberts.

There must be a Guinness World Record for that.

Likewise, when Gilbert makes references to her sister, Catherine, she never mentions she's talking about Catherine Gilbert Murdock, author of Dairy Queen, The Off Season, and Princess Ben. (The two of them recently collaborated on an editorial for the New York Times on how wonderful it is to be sisters, and writers.)

There are little things, little unmentioned things sprinkled throughout the novel that grate against the skin -- things like Gilbert in Italy receiving continual visits from friends who have flown across the Atlantic Ocean for the express purpose of seeing her. A coterie of the well-heeled, as it were, who have the capacity for such travel.

Gilbert even admits, on her website, that she was only able to do what she did because of a past history of accomplishment and privilege. That's straightforward, and I appreciate it. I wish there were a bit more of it in her book. (I'm not putting the link to Elizabeth Gilbert's website because the last thing I want to do is encourage animosity, should she read this. You can find the site on your own. Once you're there, read the FAQ.)

And yet I found myself liking this book. In some sections, really liking it. I know why, though. It's because Gilbert promises hope. Someday, she writes, if you meditate, you too will see the mind of God. Someday, you too may be wooed by a charming man who offers you the world and then delivers. Someday, you too will find this kind of peace.

Can it happen if you aren't already successful and/or privileged? I hope so.

*But wait, you'll say. Wasn't Jersey in Coyote Ugly poor? Non-privileged? That's where the book differed from its source material, and for good reason. Gilbert took the Coyote Ugly job to earn quick cash and bank enough for a trip around the world (it's all explained on her website). Her parents were not working-class; they owned a Christmas tree farm in Connecticut, and Gilbert herself was never in danger of poverty or homelessness.

Other reviews of Eat Pray Love are here, here, here, and of course, Niranjana's.

BBC Ballet Shoes: The "Did You Know We're Making A Movie Starring Emma Watson?" Trailer

BBC's released a new trailer; this one's entirely Emma-centered. I suppose fame sells.

I've decided I'm really going to like this movie after all. It's giving every indication that it will be a faithful adaptation.

A few nitpicks:

Are fossils stone, bone, or both? I guess I really don't know. But when Gum called his fossils "stones," it seemed to hit a little wrong.

The quote is "You're nothing but a pack of cards." I don't know why they changed it.

But... love the trailer, love Winifred (I hope we get to see her play Alice), love the fact that the BBC just confirmed that Drs. Smith and Jakes will be played as (lesbian) lovers. 'Cause every time I read the book after I was, say, twelve, I wondered. Y'know?

BBC Ballet Shoes: Pictures of Maeterlinck's Blue Bird

I'm going to bet that the upcoming BBC Ballet Shoes movie will not include Pauline and Petrova performing in Maeterlinck's Blue Bird.

It'll skip over it entirely, and focus on two performances: Alice in Wonderland (plot point: Pauline learns that she is not indispensable) and Midsummer Night's Dream (plot point: everyone discovers that Petrova is a bad fit for the theatre).

If I were adapting Ballet Shoes for the screen, I'd do the same thing. After all, Alice and Shakespeare are both household names, and very few people are familiar with Maeterlinck.

But since I'm still getting so much Ballet Shoes site traffic, and since everyone who's coming to this page through a Ballet Shoes-related Google search is familiar with Maeterlinck, well...

I directed a performance of Blue Bird last year. The same play that Pauline and Petrova did, with nearly as much dancing. Wanna see pictures?

Another Ballet Shoes Post: Killing Mrs. Simpson

For those of us following my avid excitement regarding the upcoming BBC Ballet Shoes movie, I made an unfortunate discovery this afternoon.

It was something I had suspected, after seeing the cast list and the trailer.

They took the character of Mr. Simpson and made him a love interest for Sylvia.

(Brief backtrack for the uninitiated: Sylvia Brown is the mother-by-adoption to the three Fossil orphans. Mr. Simpson is Petrova Fossil's mentor, the man who teaches the young girl all about engineering and helps her prepare for a career as a pilot. There is also a Mrs. Simpson, who is equally kind to Petrova and makes her a suit of overalls so that she can work alongside Mr. Simpson when he fixes cars. Later in the story, when the sisters are once again desperate for clothing and have no more jewelry to sell, Mrs. Simpson makes them organdy dresses.)

But it's confirmed here: just like in the 1975 film, they've eliminated the character of Mrs. Simpson so that Mr. Simpson can fall in love with Sylvia.

Only this time, they've killed her. In a horrible accident in Kuala Lumpur. And they've also given her a son, and killed him off as well.

Oh, dear. The literary theorists could have a field day with this one. What are the problems with this scenario?

1. The implication that Sylvia, a single woman raising three children, needs a love interest/husband to make her story complete. (Or that the audience needs Sylvia to have a love interest/husband. Or that the audience needs the three Fossil girls to have a "real father.")

2. The fact that they had to invent some kind of terrible accident to remove an inconvenient character, and add another character and then kill him off as well. In the 1975 movie, Mr. Simpson was an ordinary bachelor. If the 2007 version has to fabricate a love story, why not leave it at that?

3. The creepiness of Petrova now becoming a "second son" for Mr. Simpson (there's bound to be a scene in which he tells someone that she reminds him of the late Simpson Jr.), which takes away the joy of a young girl being able, on her own merits, to walk down to her neighbor's garage and ask him to teach her how to fix cars, and his doing it only because she's clever enough, on her own.

4. The colonialism angle. Mr. S ran a rubber factory in Kuala Lumpur, before getting a transfer back to London. We're in the 1930s, pre-Malaysian independence. I'm suddenly very interested to know how the two other Simpsons died. Strange native disease? Attack by a strange native animal? Murder at the hands of strange natives? Something involving the words "strange" and "native?"

Anyway. You get the idea. Somewhere there's an academic article in this, with a title along the lines of Single Mothers and Substitute Sons: Use of the Male Paradigm to Alter Character Identities in the BBC Adaptation of "Ballet Shoes."

Maybe after I see the movie, I'll write it. ^__^

Ballet Shoes: Who Wants To Get Me A Christmas Present?

Being the poor, cash-strapped grad student I am, the only thing I should legitimately ask for this Christmas is money. (Well... money and a copy of Madhur Jaffrey's World-of-the-East Vegetarian Cooking. That thing's worth its weight in gold, and I've re-checked it out of the library so many times that it smells like my spice drawer.)

But the thing that I want for the day *after* Christmas is a burned DVD or VCD of Ballet Shoes.

It airs on BBC 1 on the evening of December 26. Check your local listings for showtimes.

I don't get BBC. My roommate and I have taped a pair of rabbit ears to the top of our 13-inch television (which we bought at a thrift store), and we get a little bit of fuzzy NBC/CBS/FOX and the local Christian station WTJR: "Waiting 'Till Jesus Returns."

So I need to figure out how I can otherwise see this made-for-TV movie which is probably going to be not-that-good, but is based on a book that I have pretty much memorized (and read so much as a child that the cover and many of the inner pages fell out).

Who wants to be my Secret Santa?

Ballet Shoes: A Picture Of The Trio

From Emma Watson Empire:

Too old, too old, too old. All three sisters. (Victoria Wood, who plays Nana, looks about the right age.) It'd be one thing if they made the characters older, but the costuming suggests they're trying to pass the girls, or at least Posy, off as pre-or-very-young teens. (Unfortunately, it just makes them all -- especially Petrova -- look like really early bloomers.)

I'm intrigued by the way Lucy Boynton, who plays Posy, is carrying herself. When I first saw the snap I thought "oh, they cast a real dancer as Posy, not an actor." Then I did my research and found out who Lucy Boynton was. In the shot, her posture's almost perfectly aligned. (Her neck is retracted.) This seems promising. I'm going to be very interested to see her dance.

More pictures here. Apparently the scene in which the trio goes on holiday includes some "dressing up as Native Americans" fun.

Were the actual games described in the book (including "hide-and-go-seek in a hayloft") not good enough for the BBC? Why have our famous trio dress up as insulting stereotypes? And why do they have their skirts hiked up so high?

Ballet Shoes Is Coming

The BBC is working on a miniseries version of Noel Streatfeild's Ballet Shoes.

Will air this Christmas.

Don't have time to write much about it right now, but (like many fans) am a bit perturbed about a primary piece of casting:

Emma Watson as Pauline.

(Also Richard Griffiths as Gum, but he's only a peripheral part of the story.)

Emma's too old for the role, and in the online pictures she looks way too old. (In the story, we watch Pauline grow from 10 to 14 years old.) Also too... angular.

On the plus side, if the press is right, Emma's a huge fan of the book. Which means, I hope, that she'll do her best to be true to the character.

There's already one unfortunate film adaptation of Ballet Shoes. I hope-hope-hope that this one turns out better.

(Emma Watson's website: http://www.emmawatsonofficial.com/. Apparently she's posting Ballet Shoes updates.)

Apparating Out Of The Closet

We interrupt our regularly scheduled travel blogging to bring you a bit of Harry Potter commentary.

Unless you've been living underneath a rock, you've probably heard about JKR's recent pronouncement that Albus Dumbledore is gay.

Woo-hoo! you might think. One step forward for kid-lit inclusiveness!

But look at how she handled it.

At the now infamous Carnegie Hall conference, JKR was asked if Dumbledore had ever loved anyone.

Her response?

"Dumbledore is gay, actually."

See, that's the problem. The correct answer is "Yes. Grindelwald."

Making it a "actually, he's gay" means that even JKR, despite her attempt at inclusiveness or diversity or whatever, views being gay as unnatural or deviant or "not normal."

What kind of answer is "actually, he's gay?" The conditional "actually" plays as a negative; it denies the love she's trying to promote.

"Has Dumbledore ever loved anyone?"

"Actually, he's gay, so he can only have that gay kind of love."

Not to mention that sitting on this and then revealing it seems to me a bit chickensh***ed on her part. Sure, the lit theorists are saying. The clues are there in her description of Dumbledore and Grindelwald's chummy adolescent relationship! I don't buy it. Maan and Firoz are a pair of discreetly-written lovers; Albus and Gellert are not.

Legions of fans were begging for a GLBTQ character (just like other fans were begging for a non-Christian character), arguing that in a school that large, non-inclusion would be a deliberate omission. So JKR gives us Dumbledore, after the fact. Not actually in the seventh book, when it really would have been a step forward for literary inclusiveness.

(And what did she have to lose, anyway? Everyone would have found out after they bought Book Seven; neither she nor her publisher would have lost revenue if people were upset with her choice.)

Anyway. On a more positive note, someone stands to make a lot of money off of a lavender "Dumbledore's Army" t-shirt. If I knew how to produce and sell them, it would be me.

Visiting Kolu

When I was young, I always wanted to celebrate the holidays I read about in books. (Okay, I always wanted to do anything I read about in a book -- and still do.)

After I read All-Of-A-Kind Family, for example, I told my mother that we were going to celebrate Purim, and -- with all the costume and ceremony I could derive from the book's chapter on the subject -- we did.

There weren't many books about South Asian children in our local library, unfortunately; the closest I got to India was through Burnett and Kipling. So I had no chance to read about Navarati or the Kolu celebration.

Which is too bad, because if I had, I most assuredly would have spent one afternoon building nine steps out of cardboard and chairs and arranging my stuffed animals and Barbie dolls into my own interpretation of a Kolu display.

I probably would not have been able to keep them there for nine days, however; wouldn't have been able to handle the delayed gratification. But arranging them, and then standing in front of them and singing.... oh, I would have been all over that.

I've been taken to see several Kolu displays in neighboring flats, and all of them have been very charming and thoroughly impressive. After I admired the sand painting of Saraswati that I saw in one home, I was given a small pot of sand and invited to try and make my own design in front of the kolu. Suffice to say I failed disastrously. I managed to make a pile of sand, and then when I tried to spread it around with my finger into a kind of arrangement, I ended up with a messy pile of sand. ^__^

They did, however, also invite me to stand in front of the kolu display and sing; and at that I was much more successful. It was probably the only time, ever, in history, in which Charles Kingsford has been performed in front of a Kolu; I can only hope that Saraswati approved.

A Year-Late Book Review

Yeah, I know. I promised that my next post would be on ISKCON. Call it Murphy's Law of Blogging: whatever post one promises to write will be the one that takes the longest to actually appear. ^__^

You see, I was walking yesterday down M. G. Road in Bangalore. I wasn't looking for anything in particular, just exploring. I started at one end, and five sari emporiums and a hundred and seventy specialty shops later, I was sick of hearing young men call out "Madam, what you want?" and worn out from resisting the people shoving chess sets, trick snakes, and junk jewelry into my face. I am still, mercifully, junk-jewelry-free.

Then I saw the man with the books. His stand smelled sweet and woodsy and spicy, and I was afraid he was going to try to sell me on one of those sandalwood keychains they foist on tourists in India. But instead he tossed his too-long, shaggy brown hair out of his eyes, and smiled a half-smile, like he knew some big joke that was about to be played on me.

If you haven't yet figured out what book I found at the book stand, well...

The joke, of course, is that it's terrible. Leaving the plagiarism issue aside, it's still an awful book. (Sorry, Niranjana. I know you liked it.) And before one accuses me of not caring for or "understanding" teen chick-lit, I should warn you that I own all four copies of the Traveling Pants books. In hardcover. Purchased on the day of release.

What bothered me about this book was its absolute predictability. (Spoilers may follow, but since there's nothing to spoil about this book -- its plot is pretty much obvious after the first chapter -- I'm sure no one will mind.) Opal will lose interest in the hot alpha male in favor of the "differently cute" nice guy? Who just happens to be a closet genius? She'll quickly rise to popularity and then become publicly humiliated by her new friends -- and then learn who her "true friends" are? Due to her new attempts at popularity, she'll come dangerously close to losing her long-achieved academic standing... and then redeem herself at the last possible moment?

Forget Sloppy Firsts. I've just described the plot of Mean Girls. As well as half-a-dozen adventures of the Babysitters' Club. Viswanathan's novel reads exactly like Opal's attempt at popularity: the frantic watching of every teen movie "from back when Molly Ringwald was cute," and then the attempt to mush everything together, spitting out band and designer references and hitting every trope in the genre. Imagine Alloy Entertainment as the Mehta parents, micromanaging Viswanathan's every move to make sure it adheres to their well-constructed research on what would make a book popular. ^__^

Ironic that the internet is the tool used to bring both Opal and Kaavya down.

The most irritating part of the book, for me, was its ending. The ending was the one place where Viswanathan strayed from her tropes. Opal, when she gets her Harvard letter (and btw don't tell me she "doesn't know" what's inside; any high school student knows the difference between a thick and a thin admissions letter) is supposed to do one of two things. She should either:

A. Choose not to open it, deciding instead to embark upon a wonderful new life that she has discovered for herself.

or

B. Open it, realize she has been admitted, and then personally visit Dean Anderson to tell him that she is refusing admission so that she may embark upon this wonderful new life that she has discovered for herself.

She's not supposed to go. That's the way these stories end. That's supposed to be the lesson; that when you become your own person (after trying to be someone else) you learn what is truly important to you and you forge your own path.

But she went. Oh, and she also solved this scientific theorem that no one's been able to solve for 150 years because no one ever thought that it could be a single integral. BARF.

ISKCON post coming soon!