Well, sadly this is another demented book. :(
The imagery is vivid. Laloo is a character with many shards too her life, like a broken mirror crushed in a bleeding hand. There are images of maternity, but the child is a monster. There are images of adventure and travel and expedition, but the trip is filled with rape and murder. There is a bond with a father who understands her passion for something else, yet her dependence on him is only for what he can give her or what she can steal from him. From cars to money to a murdered girl with her heart wrapped in a tee shirt on the side of the road, no wait, I mean a dead girl in the back of a truck driven by a random sicko- the images are nothing but twisted.
Twisted isn't art, demented isn't beauty, blood and rape aren't love.
To that I say with another's words: "brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things."
This book doesn't disturb me, I've read worse and I know people who have had worse done to them. It doesn't shock me, it doesn't free me, it doesn't give me anything but insight into a longing for something that she does not have- and her final desire to die rather than choose life.
After her accident from throwing herself out of a car to avoid being raped, and after giving birth to a twisted monster of a machine- Laloo needs help or she will die, and she chooses to wear her red dress and keep walking. She won't make it, her illness of the mind has corrupted her body and her love for freedom has been misplaced into an unhealthy obsession which brings nothing but slavery to her true heart. She tries to lead others, to guide them, but she is blind and falling off a cliff into the sharp rocks below even as she speaks.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Monday, October 19, 2009
Readings
Enoch grumbled. It had been a long day, he was tired, his robes were a mess, and to top it all off he couldn't keep his eyes open. The master was being unreasonable. Oh sure, you could demand that an 8 year old sit still and listen all day then study all night, but that didn't make you sane for doing it...
The book was depressing. It was about a crazy girl who had a crazy doctor tell her to do crazy things until she went crazy. He needed a bite to eat, something to clear his mind from the monotony he had been chewing on all afternoon. Who cares if she was crazy!!! Ok!!! Fine!!!
Outside the cool autumn air was calling, the crisp leaves were every dazzling shade of red and yellow and orange, and the gardens out back were slowly fading into the death of winter- preparing to sleep. Enoch went to put on a cloak, his dark brown robes were fine for summer, but needed a supplement in these colder months. The fire needed a log, reminding Enoch once again of his crackling stomach.
He wasn't a type. He didn't have to listen to crazy people who thought he was. He could just leave. He also didn't need to sit still in a room and say almost nothing savoring the uncomfortable silence, silence was to be enjoyed- but not in the company of strange men. Or cats. Kat had just come into the room, he was also hungry.
"Something about that time of year" Enoch thought, over a few scones he had pilfered from the kitchen, "makes us all begin to store food like chipmunks. Interesting.
He re-opened the books.
The book was depressing. It was about a crazy girl who had a crazy doctor tell her to do crazy things until she went crazy. He needed a bite to eat, something to clear his mind from the monotony he had been chewing on all afternoon. Who cares if she was crazy!!! Ok!!! Fine!!!
Outside the cool autumn air was calling, the crisp leaves were every dazzling shade of red and yellow and orange, and the gardens out back were slowly fading into the death of winter- preparing to sleep. Enoch went to put on a cloak, his dark brown robes were fine for summer, but needed a supplement in these colder months. The fire needed a log, reminding Enoch once again of his crackling stomach.
He wasn't a type. He didn't have to listen to crazy people who thought he was. He could just leave. He also didn't need to sit still in a room and say almost nothing savoring the uncomfortable silence, silence was to be enjoyed- but not in the company of strange men. Or cats. Kat had just come into the room, he was also hungry.
"Something about that time of year" Enoch thought, over a few scones he had pilfered from the kitchen, "makes us all begin to store food like chipmunks. Interesting.
He re-opened the books.
Monday, October 5, 2009
City Eclogue
This is an interesting book. 3 points of particular interest would be the urban, beauty, and American themes that run through the poems.
The first point is the urban. Time and time again there's the "our stone" and "our steel", such as the poem "Sit In What City We're In" where it also talks about "our hive grid" and the lines of the country. It makes you think.
The second point would be the beauty, as we walk through the country and experience what it has to offer.
The third point is the American, where it talks about the greatness that the country offers, the stores and shops, and the potential for a society that's willing to grow. (Also with consequences if it fails to learn.)
This is an interesting book. 3 points of particular interest would be the urban, beauty, and American themes that run through the poems.
The first point is the urban. Time and time again there's the "our stone" and "our steel", such as the poem "Sit In What City We're In" where it also talks about "our hive grid" and the lines of the country. It makes you think.
The second point would be the beauty, as we walk through the country and experience what it has to offer.
The third point is the American, where it talks about the greatness that the country offers, the stores and shops, and the potential for a society that's willing to grow. (Also with consequences if it fails to learn.)
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