Fricknits

Book Report: 10 Things I Hate about Twilight

It's been a long time since my last book report.  The one that brought me tons of new readers!  (The kind that like to Google "a million little pieces book report" anyway.)  The one that brought me my first nasty comment!  (I think she was 13 years old.  We worked it out.)  The one that started it all!  ("It all" being the endless loop of geez, it's been a long time since I've written a book report that plays in my angsty little mind from time to time.)  Well, not to spoil everyone's fun or anything, but I just finished Twilight, and it's time to come out of retirement because I've never, ever been stopped not once but TWICE on my way to a bookstore register (and this was a small indie bookstore, no B&N) and asked where I got that book because it's supposed to be so good.  So here we go.

This book is about vampires.  (See #5.)  This book is about a girl named, yes, Isabella Swan.  (Stop snickering.  I haven't even started.)  This book contains many, many ellipses.  And for you parents of teens out there who are worried about your daughters becoming engrossed in a vampire love saga, let me quell your fears.  This book contains no sex.  That's right.  No sex.  Which begs the question: is this actually a vampire novel?  (Again, see #5.)

Let's list, shall we?

1.  The author unabashedly, unashamedly, without the slightest hint of irony, uses the terms "alabaster" and "liquid topaz eyes."  Physical features are so repetitively described, in fact, that I know more about Edward's "perfectly muscled chest" (twice in 10 pages!) than his fangs (see #5).

2.  Speaking of #1, hair deserves its own item in this list.  Meyer seems downright obsessed with her characters' tresses (a word she'd use, I'm sure).  Don't believe me?  Quick quiz.  If you've read this book, only one of these should give you the slightest trouble: Who is the character whose hair is described as: a) artfully gelled spikes? b) cornsilk? c) soft, caramel-colored, and golden?  d) dark curls?  e) bronze?  f)  a dark pixie cut?

3.  This brings me to the overt exposition that would drive me to drink if it weren't making me guffaw into my third beer already.  The first, oh, hundred pages are full of clumsy nonsense where Bella reflects on herself in order to tell you important things, like that she's really clumsy, is character d above, and also is really smart.  This author obviously never had a teacher intone "show, don't tell" at her.  Or, as I like to tell me students (via Mark Twain) "Don't say the old lady screamed; bring her on and let her scream."  

4.  And let's talk about that clumsiness and those smarts.  Having just finished up "My So-Called Life" (just released on DVD!!), I may not have been in the right place to accept a fourth-rate heroine, but please.  No more books where the girl is smart and clumsy, and we know that because she reads Jane Austen under the trees, says she gets lost in bookstores, and knows about the Krebs Cycle.  You could practically see Meyer with her high school bio book open, searching out some factoid she could use in the lab scene to make Bella look like a Smarty McPantserson.  Can we have a heroine who is smart AND reads VC Andrews, like the rest of us?  Please?  I know Angela Chase, and you, Bella, are no Angela Chase.

5.  Let's review what we all know about vampires, shall we?  Only come out at night.  Sleep in coffins or tombs (or satin sheets, if you're an "Angel" fan).  Hate holy water, crosses, and garlic.  Stake through the heart.  Fangs.  You're with me, right?  Well, Meyer's not.  Meyer checked "none of the above" and wrote in her own answers!  How cheeky of her!  Her vamps are sparkly, fragrant, mind-reading, and my favorite- can run really, really, really fast.  And despite the great number of times she references their "teeth," she never can seem to bring herself to say "fangs."  It's as if she wanted the vampire mystique, but not, you know, the actual monster.  But no fangs?  Say it ain't so! Kinda takes the bite out of it all.  (Sorry, couldn't resist.)

6.  Adverbs, adverbs, adverbs.  Oh, and speaker tags.  No one just says anything in this book.  They breathe their words (despite the no breathing thing).  And they're remarkably active while speaking.  Playfully ruffling hair, lifting their "glorious, agonized eyes" to each other, or "flashing" them, warning, muttering, approving, murmuring, setting their jaws, ordering, exhaling sharply, booming...  It must be exhausting for them.  I know it was for me!

7.  So.  Much.  Face-touching.

8.  Despite the fact that the back of the book proclaims Edward's vampiness, it takes something like 123 pages for Meyer to get around to the business letting Bella in on it.  Meanwhile, well, see #6 and #9:

9.  Constant.  Dithering.  No.  Vampire.  Sex.

10.  I admit it.  I was bored.  The mere fact that Meyers tells us there's conflict in the first, oh, 200 pages of the book does not, in fact, produce conflict.  There were some tantalizing hints dropped about Bella's parents and about Bella herself, but they never turned into anything.  Maybe I was just hoping for something?  The best characters, Jacob and Charlie Black, James, and Alice, get too little screen time.   In fact, for me, the book really didn't happen until James came on the scene.  But I can't give that away.  (It's on page 376).  The most interesting character of all is dispatched far too easily.  And then we're back to the dithering.

So why did I read all the way to the end?  Well, didn't you read # 1-10?  It can be so fun to read with your jaw on the floor in disbelief.  Plus, I kept waiting for James.  I knew he was coming, since the back of the book promised a "terrifying race to stay alive."  Had I been Meyer's editor, I would have cut about 150 pages off of the beginning.  But what do I know?  The NYT has it as a bestseller and an Editor's Choice.  It's on the Teen People Hot List!  And hey...if you needed another reason to read it, I have two words for you:

Vampire baseball.

Grade: Woot!

(Scale: Woot!  Quite pleasant.  Meh.  Boo.  Boo-Hiss!)

Run, don't walk!

Hey There, Gorgeous

I've been away from the Internet since Tuesday.  School and all its attendant meetings and report cards and classroom clean-ups was over at 4:00 pm and, by some cruel twist of fate, our neighbors decided to move their wireless hub or forgo wireless for the summer or some such nonsense, because there is currently no 'Net Chez Frick.  It took a few deep breaths, but then I realized that this could be a good thing.  While I'm NOT obsessively checking your Flickr streams and my Ravelry friend activity, I can, say, potty train my son.  Finally de-clutter the dining room table.  Learn to quilt (!)  And make good on the promise I've made to Ms. Kingsolver to become part of the solution.  To that end, I've planted three varieties of heirloom tomatoes in the past three days (Cherokee Purple, Hillbilly, and Green Zebra) and brought home a whopping haul from the farmer's market on Friday:

It's nice to know you're a part of a movement.  A real, honest-to-gosh change taking place in our culture (taking the optimist's view here).  Like this blogging/photo/knitting/crafting space we've created for ourselves on the Internet.  People talk about friendship and community and getting back to the roots of handcraft when they reference blogging as a movement, but there's something else about this craft movement that I think is really special and I haven't seen folks talking about, and that's beauty.  Redefining beauty.  Taking beauty BACK from the magazines and the movies and the Botox parties and the red carpet.  Taking it back into our own hands.  Have you noticed how we're doing that?

First of all, there's the power inherent in having the ability to make beautiful things with one's own hands.  As I've grown as a knitter, I've honed my aesthetic sense.  Every pretty, flirty skein that winks at me from the shelf doesn't automatically end up in the basket.  I'm choosier about colors in some ways, bolder about them in others.  I'm less likely to second-guess my gut when it comes to style.  Knitting has both expanded and refined what I think of as beautiful because it's put the creation part into my hands.

 

 

Lately, though, maybe because of all that stuff absence does to your heart, I've been thinking more about how being a part of this community has reached all the way back into my pre-adolescent, Barbie-torturing, running-wild-in-the-woods childhood and revived my sense of what makes a truly beautiful female.  Back then, I thought my mom was the most gorgeous woman alive.  Consciously or not, I thought this way about my friends, too.  Scraped kness, twigs in pigtails, crooked noses, dirty feet- it didn't matter.  At the end of the day, I still wanted to be rolled up in a sleeping bag with them, just staring at each other's faces and giggling.  And I thought I was a pretty hot mama, too.  Lip synching to Sheena Easton with the hairbrush and the bottom of my t-shirt pulled through the neck, insta-kini style? You know you did it, and you know you were thinking, "I am hawt."  Right?  Then came seventh grade.

That's what I love about Project 365.  Folks will tell you it's narcisistic, but I don't buy that.  How many of us are really initially comfortable with putting our faces out there, day after day?  It's taken me almost two years to show mine on this blog.  But all over Flickr you can find these amazing photographs of beautiful women whose stories and knitting you know.  And if you look at them enough, you start to think, "Where's my sleeping bag?  My hairbrush?  My Sheena Easton tape?"  Screw mass media's idea of what beautiful is.  I mean, Rolling Stone's got nothing on Carrie.  Want to jump-start your workout?  Forget Shape- check out Brenda for inspiration.  Want to read a great parenting story?  Move over, Angelina, Jen, Madonna, JLo.  Diana's got yer heartstrings right here.  Jen Aniston's shag is SO out.  Get the Ashley.  Betcha haven't wanted Jell-O this much since you were five.  (Erin can sell me just about anything.)  Pigtails!  Oh, and Pam?  Anthropologie called.  They want their mojo back.

Blogging has spolied me for the slick mass media version of beauty.  Kind of makes me want to get all the girls I teach a Typepad account.

The photos in this post are of my best friend Adrianna.  She's a farmer and an artist and a mother and one of the most gentle, graceful, beautiful people I know.  I wouldn't trade her as a model for anyone.  In fact, she looked so beautiful in my Sheltland Triangle that I gave it to her on the spot.  That's another thing blogging has taught me.  Generosity.  But that's for another post.

Gee, Julie, what do you want to do tonight?

The same thing we do every night, Cowlgirls- try to take over the world!"






















I could have done this all day- but there's notimenotimenotime!  So this is just a quick check-in with three new knits to keep you company until time once again is on my side.















We pause to admire Maritza's manicure...

Details:
Beech Wood by Ilga Leja, knit in Lorna's Laces Lion and Lamb, gifted to my new friend, Maritza, who may or may not have taken this photo.  I know I didn't, but if she did, she's magic, because that's her wearing it.
Raveled here.

















We pause to admire the beauty of Mud Creek Handspun.

Details:
Beech Wood II, aka So Nice I Knit it Twice in Mud Creek Handspun "Brindle."
Raveled here.  (With alternate view for those who prefer the nose-down shot.)

















We pause to admire the beauty of Caro's pattern and to recover from the shock of seeing my eyes.

Details:
The Philly Cowl (of love) in Malabrigo Merino Worsted "Cuarzo."
Raveled here.

So go forth and continue the Grand Plan, my pretties!  It makes my heart sing to see all those cowls popping up hither and yon.  And since every great empire needs a new horizon to conquer...I'll just toss this out: mowl, anyone?  Jared?

..an alternate title for this post was, "The Busy Girl's Blog Post" because yes, it's lazy but friends- 43 picture book biographies to grade and then 43 report cards to write await me.  And I just wanted to wave my hand as I sank beneath this wave.

Philly Cheese

You've seen this before at Elinor's place, but it bears repeating.






















Lucky, lucky me.  I had to dig a bit, but I found this old post of mine about Internet friends.  About how we should just drop all the awkwardness of explaining how we've never seen each other face-to-face, but we know each other perhaps better than many of the characters who inhabit our "real lives."  About how in many ways no one really "gets it"- this crafty connection.  And last weekend I had the chance to test my theory as I got to meet ten other bloggers- some of whom I've loved a long, long time, and others who are new to me and instantly dear.  And guess what?  It was like coming home.















Diana, with whom I've shared many a parenting headache and who always leaves me giggling, no matter how much the Biscuit is currently hating his big-boy bed/potty training/me.  Did we miss a beat when we saw each other's faces?  Was it awkward?  Hell, no.  I may have hugged her so hard I broke myself.  I don't think I could break her.  Girl is STRONG.














Megan.  Isn't she beautiful? I got to sleep at her place, right next to a pile of single socks.  She ain't making it up.  That stack is climbin'.  And green!  I shared sleeping quarters with (I'm sorry, it has to be said) the hip Christy and her Tweedy Aran, uber-talented (and in possession of the rockinest boots) Maritza, the aforementioned Elinor with whom I shared the top-shelf experience of waking up to the sound of a crying baby that was NOT MINE, and ECC.  One of my roomies snored.  It wasn't the cat, but that's all I'm sayin'.





















They humored me with a cowl swap.  Then they gave me champagne.
















And I learned a great many things. 
Such as: I need a Canon and a fiddy.  My camera envy was overwhelming.  I took none of the photos in this post.  That should tell you something right there.
Such as:  Minty is one seriously funny, hyperdrive brilliant, excellent person and I'm going to knit all her stuff and watch her Flickr stream like a hawk.  And maybe see her this summer for a burger.
Such as:  Though the general consensus was that we were probably all dorky girls in high school who never got near the popular crowd, my sneaking suspicion is that Pam, Caro, and Diana are exceptions to this rule.  They are just crowd-pleasers, those three.
Such as: Specs should be in charge of the world.  She's quiet as all get-out and lulls you into a false sense of security and then wham! this fabulous sneakattack humor busts out.  I suspect this might work very well with North Korea.  Plus she's blonde and purty.
Such as: I need you knitters around all the time to save me from potential yarn purchase disasters like I almost made at Loop.  One look at the pattern I meant to attempt and all and sundry gave a quick, definitive thumbs down and saved me from myself.  I am ever grateful.  The honesty, the know-how, the been-there-done-that.  Who else but "our people" can do that for us?
Such as:  I am such a fangirl for Ashley that she can get me to drink beet juice.  Ick.  But seriously.  I feel like I'm thirteen again and just left that cute boy from the beach, never to see him again.  Pining.  That's what I'm doing for Ashley.






















I hope I get the chance to meet all of you.  It may just blow my mind, though.  The very idea that you're all real, and as wonderful as you are here on the 'Net?  Lucky, lucky us, right?

Mother's Day

Here are some flowers for you.

For those of you who are mothers, who called your mothers today, who miss your mothers today, those who know you'll be a better mother than yours was and those who know you'll never be that good.  For those for whom the word mother is a curse, a prayer, a sigh, a blessing.

Here is a duckie for you, too.

For those of you who still love to play, who share your toys, who turn cartwheels, who stick out your tongues on occasion.  Who still eat snow, jump in puddles, and get dirty.  Who think balloon animal-making is one of the most mystical and magical things a person can witness.  Who occasionally still scrape knees, ask for lollipops at the bank, and color on placemats in restaurants.

Here are my babies.

Who will sit happily in a cloud of fiber, whack gamely at a pinata in a handknit sweater for a photo, and occasionally...just sometimes...give me a little time to knit.

Happy Mother's Day!

(Two of the above images now available as cards in the shop!)