Chaos is success, and from chaos emerges beauty.

Though it was Chuck Palahniuk's third book, I just read "Invisible Monsters." I've owned it for a significant period of time and for whatever reason never read it. I'm currently at the beach with my family, so I chose it because the Village Voice reviewer way back when called it a "bitchy beach read."

"Invisible Monsters" is a fast-paced novel about the fast-paced world of beautiful people. These models have surgery after surgery and never look beautiful enough for themselves or their fashionista friends. In this world, people are just accessories with little worth and nothing original to offer. Specifically, the narrator laments about her condition after her "car accident," her life before and the people in between. What she wants is constantly changing, and the ways she goes about getting it will shock you.

I've mentioned before that I read Palahniuk for his poetic prose, not his often lackluster plotlines. "Invisible Monsters" differs in that it offers the same stream-of-consciousness narration and the same interesting ideas, but the language isn't as impressively lyrical. However, Palahniuk more than makes up for his not-as-picture-perfect language with a storyline that will knock you off of your feet. It's difficult to explain without giving away the story because so much is about how nothing is as it seems. The philosophies presented here are easy to relate to and more sensible than most of those in his other novels. The narrator things a lot about God and his place in the lives of people as well as our place in the lives of others, which leaves a lot to think about as a reader.

I have to say, this really is one of the best books I've ever read--top five at least. It's incredibly intelligent, amusing and interesting. It has a bit of a slow start, but after about the halfway point, I had a difficult time putting it down because there was something new and surprising at every turn. I must admit that there are a couple of inconsistencies, but they are so minor that they could be easily written off or explained if absolutely necessary.

I enjoyed this book to such a degree that I am considering re-reading "Lullaby" to see which one is better. If the language in "Invisible Monsters" is equal to that of "Lullaby," I may have just found a new favourite book....

-- Post From My iPhone

Snuff by Chuck Palahniuk

I've always been an avid Chuck Palahniuk fan. He's a little more transgressive than I usually prefer, but I can't get over the absolute beauty and wonder that is his style of prose. Oddly enough, its poetry almost overshadows the storyline in some novels, because I find his storylines to sometimes be only so-so.

Most people know Palahniuk from his first novel, Fight Club, or his latest novel-turned-film, Choke. Both are good books (and movies), but I've always loved Lullaby most of all. Maybe later today I'll do a Lullaby quotes post--then you'll understand.

His latest three books are (in order of publishing) Rant, Snuff and Pygmy. I seem to remember reading something about these three being somehow connected (back when Rant came out a couple of years ago), but I don't remember where I read it or what it said, and I haven't been able to find it since. I heard from a friend that Rant wasn't very good, so I skipped it (but I bought it in paperback to read later) when I read reviews that said Snuff was brilliant.

Snuff tells the story of an aging, legendary porn star, Cassie Wright, as she tries to reclaim her fame. She decides that the best way to do this is to create an epic gang-bang porno with 600 men performing various sex acts filmed in succession. The narrators are Mr 600, another aging porn star with a Cassie Wright history, Mr 72, a young kid with flowers and a dream, Mr 137, a recently scandalized and sexually confused television actor with nothing to lose and, finally, Sheila, Ms Wright's assisstant/ talent wrangler who has an interest in unusual true stories. Chapters bounce from narrator to narrator, maintaining the scene of debauchary and disgust that is a room full of 600 naked men waiting their turn to do whatever it is they want to do, each looking for God only knows what. Each narrator has a hidden agenda revealed to the reader in turn, and just when you think you've got it all figured out, a classic Palahniuk plot twist makes your jaw drop.

First of all, this plot, though nasty, sounded extremely interesting to me. I've never read anything quite like it, and I need an element of mystery in a novel to enjoy it fully. I often ruin books, movies or television shows for myself because I predict the plot. While some elements of this story were indeed predictable, I appreciated the ending twist. Some of Palahniuk's endings almost try too hard, seemingly coming out of nowhere and serve little more purpose than to shock; the ending of Snuff, though throughly disgusting, was appropriate and sensible, considering the plot, while still managing to use that shock factor and surprise the reader.

As surprising as this may be, I think Choke was nastier than Snuff. I read Choke as a junior in high school, so maybe it was exclusively the perspective from which I read it. Still, this plot had the potential to scar me for life, but it left me with little more than apathy. There was something that I can't quite identify, whether it's Palahniuk loyalty or some hidden interest, that kept me from putting it down. I purchased Hey, Nostradomus! a few weeks before Snuff, but I couldn't manage to get through it. I was just so bored. I read half of it in a day, and it was good, but not good enough to finish.

I hate to conclude with something so vague, but I can't think of any other way to describe this book. It's a good read for those of you interested in modern, slightly transgressive fiction, and it's a good read for Palahniuk fans. I rate it better than Choke or Survivor, but not nearly as good as Fight Club or Lullaby. Of the five Palahniuks I've read, it belongs smack dab in the middle.

Thanks for reading! Constructive criticism welcome.

-- Post From My iPhone

Tonight in the lot between A and B--party at Life Cafe to follow!

You know, I love RENT, and I don't think that I'll ever stop loving RENT.

BUT I'm proud of myself. Today, I stepped outside of my musical theatre box for the first time in at least a year.

I must admit--I'm not listening to anything super classy. It's some random electronic music, but I really enjoy it. It makes me smile and dance a little bit, and I really like that.

It all started with this band called "Owl City."

Healy was showing me this random music playlist made by youtube's livelavalive and his friend Kyle. The songs were good and everything, but then this one stuck out to me. I looked on the songlist to find it was Owl City. I've never heard of them prior to this, and, frankly, I'm shocked. I love owls, I love music--how'd I miss two of my favourite things squished into one?!

Once again, it's not like they're the best things I've ever heard; Rent still owns anyone as far as talent is concerned. Still, I'm enjoying my new Owl City pandora station, and it's pretty lightweight.

Thus far it's played:

1. "West Coast Friendship" by Owl City
2. "Even Fairy Tale Characters Would Be Jealous" by Playradioplay!
3. "Title and Registration" by Death Cab for a Cutie
4. "Brand New Colony" by Postal Service

and I'm very happy with that.

UPDATE: Owl City is a Christian band. I'm avoiding all of the Jesus songs (not that I have anything against Jesus--he's a nice guy. I just don't like the awkward insertion of Jesus into popular music).

Lovely Things

Things I Like:
1. Attractive and intelligent boys

2. Boys who can sing
3. Music with words
4. Music without words
5. Words without music
6. Peace and its various symbols
7. Musicals
8. Operas
9. French

10. Singing
11. Books
12. The smell of rain
13, The silence of snow
14. Kissing
15. Good movies
16. The Gays
17. The Physical Act of Typing
18. The Physical Act of Writing
19. Running (short distances)
20. Understanding
21. Light bulbs
22. Animals
23. Staying Awake Too Long
24. Adventures
25. Noticing Something for the First Time
26. Charlie Brown
27. Puppies
28. Bohemian America
33. Talking to Someone Important
34. Dancing

Grammar Interlude #1

I hate Oxford commas with a fiery passion, and I couldn't begin to tell you why.

Generally, I'm a liberal user of punctuation. I'd usually rather have too many commas than not enough. Still, something about the Oxford comma bothers me. I think it's so ugly, so unnecessary.

Some of you probably haven't the slightest clue as to what I'm talking about. I'll explain. In the following italicized sentence includes a series of three, and, as much as it's going to hurt, I will use an Oxford comma:

I like apples, bananas, and oranges.

The second comma, the one after bananas, is an Oxford comma. I have literally come to blows with someone based on its usage rules.

See, the thing is that the Oxford comma is totally optional. Technically, there's nothing wrong with using it, but there's also nothing wrong with leaving it out.

Let's think about this for a moment.... The word "and," as a conjunction, provides the pause needed in the aforementioned series. Why, then, should we double the pause? It's completely unnecessary to define that understood pause.

Now, let's look at a time when both a conjunction and a comma are used:

I love singing, and I couldn't live without it.

Is it not true that in the absence of the second "I" in that sentence, the comma would be incorrect? When joining an independent clause and a dependent one, a comma isn't needed if you have a conjunction. If you are given two independent clauses, like in the example above, you need more than a comma can provide. You can either add a conjunction or use a semicolon or dash instead.

What does all of this have to do with my hatred of the Oxford comma? Plenty, I've noticed. You see, in the first example above, all of the items in that series are entirely dependent. Without the rest of the sentence, "banana" means nothing. Therefore, since "and" is being used as a conjunction, the Oxford comma is obsolete.

Damn, it feels good to be a gangsta.

Creative Piece #1

I'd like to know when she puts on her nail polish. Every time I see her, she has perfectly chipped nails. Not once have I passed her on campus or in the library and seen her with freshly painted nails. They're never unpolished, either--always that right in the middle, chipped and honest, like the person who has just the right amount of fun.

Somehow, we manage to see each other all the time without a persistent time or place. I'll pass her one Tuesday on the way to class at 11, but never again. I'll see her studying in the quad at 3:30 on a Thursday, but never again. It's almost like she has no schedule; this is the time and place and person she chooses to be, and the world can bend to fit her.

Though I try to understand, I can never quite put my finger on why she's so intriguing.

I think it's those nails.

I wrote this piece in BKG's class yesterday during a "free write." I like it enough--I always like my characters, though. The problem is that I can't ever think of something for them to DO. I can't ever think of a plot or a storyline to save my life. That's why I've always been a poetry person. I don't really like poetry in the traditional sense, but I can't seem to stop writing the damn stuff.
Why? Because I can describe ANYTHING for any length of time. I hate Hawthorne and Hemingway for their overly-descriptive pieces of crap, but I write in the same way.


Any constructive criticism and/or advice is welcome.

New direction?

I haven't posted in a long time because I haven't really had much to post--I created this blog with the intention of reviewing and discussing novels, plays, short stories, etc, but I don't really have time to read right now. When I read anything, I read with a pencil, and all of my books are abused beyond recognition. I wouldn't enjoy reading any other way, but it is very time consuming. I've got nine classes this semester, I'll be taking another two online over the summer and then eight again in the fall, so my plate is pretty full.

Still, I miss this. What little I've written on here, I have enjoyed, but I have no desire to create an online journal (see my cyberbulling entry for a little more of my opinion on things of that nature). I want to write, and I want to write NOT about my life....

...so I'm thinking of taking this blog in a new direction. In lieu of reviews and critiques, I think I'll start posting creative pieces. It seems to be that it would be a great way to think through things, and posting online means that I don't have to see any actual initial reactions to my pieces. People can comment if they'd like, but they most certainly don't have to.

I haven't written creatively in a long time, but I recently had to have a piece for my Secondary Writing Instruction class. I ended up being happier with it than I anticipated; like most others, I am very critical of my own work. Even better, the professor was happy with it--I didn't get full points on the piece, but she suggested on the front page that I consider publishing it one day.

That blew me away. It intrigued me as well. The problem, however, is that I could barely show that piece to my friends and peer editing review group, let alone attempt to publish it in a magazine or journal or (gulp) book. That sort of judgment on something so personal absolutely terrifies me. My piece is my piece, and I don't want anyone telling me it's not good enough.

Then I had an idea--this could be a nice starting point for me. I'm not delusional enough to think that people actually keep up with my blog (especially after I abandoned it for so long), but I think just posting pieces will help me get used to letting them go out into the dangerous world.

I'm still scared--I'm not going to lie--because so often I write things that I am afraid to say. In my creative piece for the class I mentioned above, I confronted my parents about every viewpoint we don't share. Once that's on the internet, there's no taking it back. Anyone can see it, steal it....man that's scary.