The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger: Holden isn't a phony

Sorry, I lied. I was going to write this in Holden Caulfield-speak, but I realized that my impression wasn't very good, other people have done that anyway, I don't have my copy of the book with me, and it was preventing me from saying some things I wanted to. So I'm just myself, rambling on.

I don't want to veer into the usual analysis most kids get in their high school English class (I didn't, because it looks like I'm not going to be assigned this book anytime soon, so that's why I read it). Instead, I could talk about my experience reading it and analyze Holden, or I could talk about how this book relates to the future of young adult literature. I'm going to do the former, because the latter would be a perfect first essay in my planned future YA lit history blog (I'd love to know if you're interested, but it's not going to happen for a few years).
So part of the reason I really wanted to read The Catcher in the Rye was because it was about wanting to hold onto innocence and not growing up, which was something I can relate to, having gone through that myself. However, this story was different than expected and very subtle. And I still loved it by the time I got to the end.

What initially threw me off was Holden. Now, I'm definitely not a hater, but he wasn't quite the type I would expect to want to preserve innocence. He curses, he drinks, he smokes, he has interest in sex. Once second he's talking about how he wants to think of a friend who may or may not have had sex with his roomate as playing checkers a certain way, rather than behaving sexually, and then the next second he's asking this girl to run away with him in the woods and get married. And he's always honest, which means he can say some things that just sound stupid or offensive. But as I progressed, I began to realize that these anomalies were because Holden really is confused and on the cusp of adulthood.

And Holden certainly has some noble intentions in some places. He doesn't think taking advantage of a girl is right. And then he'll follow that up with essentially saying that he's not sure when a girl wants it because they start to get "stupid" in those situations. Really, Holden? You were so close! [But it's true he doesn't think he should take advantage of the surprisingly young prostitute.]

It's also true he tends to value virginal women more--his smart sister, the nuns, Jane as a checkers player. But I think this has more to do with the eventual reveal that Holden has been sexually abused in the past than misogyny. He's afraid of them falling prey to the adult world, which has only greeted him with negativity. Not to mention, he's pretty bad at being an adult, if his proposition to Sally was enough evidence.

My take on the "phonies" is that they are the ways adults act when they conform to society, or that's at least what I want it to mean. And so Holden is certainly not a phony, which means that he says stupid things sometimes. But he's also very interesting, as are many other characters in the novel. They don't feel like cardboard cut-out character types, but real, if strange, people. The ones who are not so much (like Sally) tend to be phonier.

Oh, and as with the abuse, there is one line at the very end that can change your perspective on Holden: he's depressed. Or, at the very least, he goes to a mental hospital. In this context, some of his behavior makes more sense. And Catcher in the Rye captures the terrors so they are truly frighting: Holden worrying that he'll be sick, walking nonstop through the city, thinking about living in solitude...it had me on the edge of my seat. And ultimately, the novel is Holden's way of expressing himself and how he was driven mad by no one understanding him except the guy who wanted to stick his hand down his pants, and later his sister.

Catcher is one of the most character-driven stories there is. The events in it are more for shaping our views of Holden than actual plot. And maybe I didn't read it slow enough to decode every single thing, but it did give me a good punch in the gut at the end, so it was more than worth it. And I look forward to rereading this with the new perspectives I gained upon finishing it.

How I Met Your Mother, Season 2: Brief Thoughts

I already covered the basic of this show in my last post on it, so this one is going to be briefer and season-specific. Overall, though, I found Season 2 to be an improvement over Season 1.

First of all, Season 2 utilizes more of the non-linear storytelling, flashbacks, and other techniques for comedic purposes. Season 1 pioneered this, of course, but the show is getting more comfortable with it now and its style is really unlike a standard sitcom. There are also quite a few episodes that do not directly deal with romantic storylines (and especially Ted's), such as an episode all about anecdotes of Marshall's car, which is a refreshing change from Season 1 and proves that there is still a lot the program can do before it gets stale.

I was initially concerned about Ted and Robin getting together, since it was confirmed at the end of the pilot that she was not the mother, and the will they/won't they in Season 1 tired me as a result. However, I found that their relationship released that stress from the previous season. It was also helpful that Ted's quest took a backseat in Season 2. Looking at these first two seasons as a whole, this storyline was important for proving that Ted and Robin are great together, but they aren't willing to sacrifice that much to make their lives align, so it's time to move on.

Most of this season is focused on Marshall and Lily, which had its up and downs. I'm a big fan, of both the actors and the characters, and I'm really into the idea of having a permanent couple where their storylines don't come from relationship drama and they don't find the relationship boring after a while. So obviously I was disappointed that they broke up and this was dragged out over several episodes when they should have just talked to each other about it. I'm also not sure if blaming Lily was fair, and I don't think they really dealt with the issue in the best way. But getting back together was a relief, and it's also great that it's established that they tell each other everything.

I really enjoyed the wedding finale. Turning an absolute disaster into something hilarious worked because of the intimate, "real" outdoor wedding with the touching vows about how they really love each other in their own quiet, unspectacular way.

As for Barney, he came up with his own share of good lines and crazy schemes, and we finally got to see his bachelor pad. That toilet was one of the funniest moments of the season.  And I am aware that the slap bet will be coming back.

I'm really looking forward to where this goes next season, and it's just generally a lot of fun to watch with my family.

P.S. I noted all of the Joss Whedon actors last time, and this season brought at least two more, both in the episode "Swarley." Morena Baccarin (Inara from Firefly) plays Marshall's date, and Tom Lenk (Andrew from Buffy) also appears.

City of Glass by Cassandra Clare: Clary isn't the main character, she's a living deux ex machina

Oh, dear. I feel like Tegan at the end of Resurrection of the Daleks. You know: "It stopped being fun."

I picked up City of Bones last year because I was late to the game, there were lots of books in the series to read if I liked it, and I had never really dove into YA and I felt like it for some reason. I can't really say the book had the angst I was looking for (seriously, this is the worst series to pick up looking for something about life) but it was fun and the world was interesting. So I bought the next two books (technically the rest of the original trilogy) to test out my Kindle and because I was going on vacation. City of Ashes didn't hold my attention and took me a while to finish because I didn't focus on solely it, but it was fun in a soap opera and plot twist way. So I finally got to City of Glass this summer because I was running out of things to read and I was interested in it again because I've been watching "BookTube" and some of those personalities are really enthusiastic about this series, and this book in particular.

I want to love it. I like Cassandra Clare's gigantic (as planned) Shadowhunter chronicle in theory. It's a world that can spawn lots of stories! I love stories! But, well...no. Not this one. I pushed through it the way I did so I could write this review...and because it was fun typing in sarcastic notes on my Kindle and to read negative reviews on Goodreads. I admit it did pick up by the end, but the first half left such a bad taste in my mouth, especially in regards to the characters, that I didn't care that much.

A lot has been made out of how these books owe so much to pre-established stories, particularly Harry Potter, but I'm not even going to bother with the parallels. Nor do I want to talk about the writing style, because others have documented the obnoxious similes and I can't say I wanted to take the luxury to linger on the prose to mark them down. These things weren't what bothered me.

[Okay, actually, this line bothered me: "Simon said nothing. There seemed to be nothing to say." As did "his hair was perfect." But anyway...]

Mostly, I just don't feel like this is a story about people. It's about plot twists. And it abuses and criminally underuses its characters for shock and thrills. I'm fine with characters being flawed and abused by the narrative (I'm cynical like that), but the novel avoids allowing them to change or really deal with these problems. The whole Mortal Instruments series raises issues as plot twists, not as things to actually be dealt with. I was never into Clary and Jace to begin with, but I've never simply despised them until now. But let's back up.

First, it was a minor annoyance that the plot was originating from some mistakes Clary was making--namely, making her own portal to transport to Idris. Okay, that's not really new in these books. But wait a minute, this is Book 3, and we still haven't tried to train up Clary for the world she is supposed to be a part of? Sure, it has only been a month, but no one has tried some basic training on her, especially in this book. Instead, she is mostly just shielded. Clary also often comes off as childish and self-absorbed. She does not change, either; she recognizes these issues, but does not actively try to fix them...and choosing to revive Jace at the end is more out of how she can't live without him than anything. Clary continues to make rash judgement (Jace not caring for Simon) and gets into scrapes (when she tries to fight a demon on her own) and is pointed out, time and time again, that Jace is right. You know, the angelic, muscular Jace. Not only is she a weak protagonist, but we've got to have the guy constantly being superior?

That's all because Jace is actually the hero, the main character. It's much more his story. He's the one who faces off Valentine to avenge him, coming to terms with himself. He even says in the 40-page epilogue that Clary hasn't changed...he admired her "strength" of going after people she loved without thinking about it (but would she have fared well alone in most of those situations?), and that inspired him. Aside from all this being very typical (there is a whiff of her being the Manic Pixie Dream Girl in his life, but I don't like such labels), where does this leave Clary? As a deux ex machina. (And I say this as someone who does not mind deux ex machinas if the plot mechanics are not as important in the story, but this book is all about plot and events.) Okay, it might not be as bad as I originally thought, but she somehow (probably because of her vague powers) remembers something in Latin (possibly?) that Valentine said once about her powers. It's not clear in City of Glass what they mean, though presumably something about Valentine's hidden plan? Regardless, once again her unearned powers save the day. At least she had some innovation this time, by writing it in the sand.

Plenty is convenient in this book, although, again, that's not new of this series. I enjoyed the fact that Samuel was actually Hodge, but he was used to infodump about Valentine's plan before being killed right before he got to the good stuff. And let's not forget that this all wouldn't have happened if Hodge had succeeded in dying of shame, which he was trying to do before Jace insisted on saving him. (Also, it appears that Jace pulled off the bars in Simon's prison by himself...not to mention the time he kicks down the wall later. And Simon couldn't do that with his vampire strength? Not that he would have anywhere to go once he escaped, but did I miss something?)

Then there's the issue of the relationship between Clary and Jace. At the end of Book 1, it was revealed that they are brother and sister; Book 2 reveals they still have feelings for each other and they never quite decide what to do about it; Book 3 continues that and then reveals that they actually aren't related. Aside from things like how they probably could have just gotten a DNA test, it raises so many problems that were never dealt with well. 1) It essentially makes their relationship incest, but they are never disgusted, which is doubly disgusting for the reader. I can understand still seeing the other as an inevitable romantic partner, but eventually they would get over that if they know they can't be together...I have, and I was younger than them and my love interest was not related to me.  2) It thus is obviously not true, which doesn't make for good plot (seriously, I read this book to find out why not, and that was at least satisfying). 3) When Jace thinks he has demon blood and that's why he must be attracted to Clary, she is not disturbed by that fact. She only wants him to say he would love her without demon blood, because so does she.

It is so painfully clear by this point that they just must be together in some way that hopefully doesn't involve incest. The predictability isn't the problem...rather, my disappointment is that this book has nothing to say about human relationships, despite the dilemma it raised. It's just typical romantic fantasy. For example, it plays into crazy notion of THE ONE TRUE SOULMATE, which I'm just not going to rant about here, but isn't it funny how she is still attracted to Jace but "feels wrong" about Sebastian, who is actually her real brother? (Also, isn't it funny how Clary doesn't think about these things until AFTER she kisses them for a while?) Let's not forget that, from the information we're given, Sebastian was aware that he was aggressively flirting with his sister, even claiming that she wants him.

I could forgive fantasy (though I am seriously sick of "perfect" men like Jace), but incest can't just be used as a plot twist without being dealt with like the issue that it is. And I'll just leave it at that so I won't rant further.

Even after all that...they've only known each other a month, and Jace confesses how he can't be without her. Already? Plus, they can't say much besides they love each other, mostly to falling for the presence and attractiveness of each other at the beginning. Jace does say things later about how he admired her ability to jump into danger for people she loved, and I suppose we could assume that Clary admires Jace's bravery or something...but really, these things are secondary and hardly considered (another reason why Clary comes across as shallow and limp), though you think they would be if they're making such a commitment. I'm not going to fault Cassandra Clare for this problematic representation of a relationship because it's way too prevalent in YA, but at the very least it prevents readers from feeling the depth of their apparent love. We only have their chemistry, which, admittedly, is there. The interesting thing is that Clary's life parallels her mother--falling in love young, best friend with unrequited feelings who then gets turned into a Downworlder--and her mother's early marriage turned out to be a big mistake. A cautionary tale? No, Clary never realizes the parallel...it doesn't mean she would have to abandon Jace, but it could lead her to really think about what she likes about him. But no, Jace is unquestionably a Good Guy (which fits in with him being the real hero), even though he's prone to angsting and yelling at his sister/girlfriend for doing something stupid. Presumably the reveal of his true identity erases all of that, since he was just holding back how much he loved her.

City of Glass lacks urgency at the beginning, too. It takes nearly half of the book to really begin. I don't mind slow starts, but I just did not enjoy exploring the world this time around, and this is the finale. In the beginning, Clary's trying to save her mother, but the narrative gets so sidetracked that it just seems like she doesn't care. Seeing Ragnor Fell (aka Magnus) is secondhand in her mind to how Sebastian is making her feel. The trip to retrieve the Book of White is more concerned with the (false) reveal that Jace is part demon and the subsequent kissing. And then it turns out her mother is actually fine and what does Clary do to this woman--her own mother--who she has been caring for and trying to heal? She backs away from the offered hug and demands to know why her mother tried to protect her by not telling her about her Shadowhunter heritage. Even if you buy into her later rationalization that she didn't realize what was built up in side of her, which at least was better than not dealing with it, it still seems strange that would be her first reaction. And then it's her mother who later comes to her and apologizes.

The focus issue remains into the second half: when Jace goes missing on a suicide mission, everyone gives up looking for him right away, although somehow Isabelle finds him later to save him, and then have him save her. It does make sense to focus on Clary's convenient Marking since that would be more important (not so much Jocelyn's long story), but I feel that Clary's point of view overall lacks a clear direction and voice. Fortunately, the pace picked up during the sections.

Oh, and Max dies, to further show how terrible Sebastian is. It's hinted at that his parents are upset, and Isabelle certainly is (she believes it is her fault), but Clary gives it about two sentences and Jace doesn't seem to be affected too much. The lack of effect on the main characters makes them seem callous and the event seems like yet again another cheap plot twist that tastes bitter when you think about what actually happened. Isabelle tries to get rid of her guilt by having sex with Simon; he later tells Clary they didn't and he wouldn't have taken advantage of her, of course, but it's implied that they did for a chapter or so. The scene cut off with that cliffhanger for suspense, because apparently that is more important than the following discussion in which Simon explains why this is not a way to deal with grief.

All right. It did get more exciting and interesting by the end, and I did enjoy hearing Clary's mother's story. But ultimately it was hard to root for the characters or feel like this book had something to say. Will I continue with this series? I really, really don't think so, at least Mortal Instruments. It's not worth slogging through these long books and being angry at them (for at least the first half) just to write these reviews...even though this was fun to write. I'm on the fence about The Infernal Devices--I heard it's better, but I've also read about it being a love triangle in which you're supposed to want the Jace-like character to win...so I don't think I'll be checking that out anytime soon. However, I am intrigued by the upcoming Dark Artifices trilogy, as it seems like the main female character will be more experienced (actually the protagonist!), and there may be more foundation on the (unfortunately still forbidden) love and no triangle...but I'm not sure I could really trust Cassandra Clare to spend time exploring it.

How I Met Your Mother, Season 1: A Mostly Refreshing Comedy

I began hear a lot about How I Met Your Mother from classmates, but my family had never actually watched the show. I caught a few reruns (from 2011 I think) and really liked how flashbacks and other visual techniques (such as showing how the characters saw what happened, rather than what actually happened), and my family and I began watching it from the beginning on Netflix. We just finished Season 1, and I have some things to say, but certainly not enough to go episode-by-episode.

I can't say I'm too familiar with comedies, especially newer ones, but I have seen all of Seinfeld and How I Met Your Mother appears to be in that tradition. Set in New York City, a cast of best friends who hang out in one place (the diner, the pub); two main characters who dated at the beginning but have broken up and remain friends (Jerry and Elaine, Ted and Robin); and a quirky guy who no one is sure what he does for a living (Kramer, Barney). That's not to say there's a ripoff going on here; the characters and their dynamics are only the same in the ways I pointed out. And while the HIMYM cast is less quirky than Seinfeld, I actually think they are an improvement. The Seinfeld quartet were never meant to be role models (remember the finale?) and were never big on committing, often breaking up with the girlfriend or boyfriend of the week because they just couldn't stand one strange habit. How I Met Your Mother gives us more believable characters, and even Barney's playboy antics receives criticism from the rest of the characters and some girls he hits on (the lemon law), showing that they have a choice in the matter too.

I also really enjoy how there is a permanent couple on the show, too, and how it brings up how they still can have problems, jitters, and had to willingly sacrifice dreams to be together. The suggestion that they broke up at the end of the season finale bummed me out, but I'm hoping there's more to this than meets the eye and I know they get back together anyway. In the tradition of Elaine, Lily (Alyson Hannigan, who I'm already a fan of from Buffy) makes it clear that she enjoys sex, but unlike her Seinfeld counterpart she also wishes to stay in one relationship.

I am enjoying the dynamic between Ted (the hopeless romantic who wants to get married) and Robin (who wouldn't mind a relationship but doesn't want to commit), but the "will they or won't they" is getting quite tiresome because the end of the pilot implied they would not be together. If that line hadn't been there, I would enjoy it much more. Still, I really liked how Robin acknowledged the complexities of what love means and committing to another person. And what happened to Ted's "soul mate" that the computer found, but whom he never met because he had to fix Lily's flat tire?

Like all comedies, How I Met Your Mother does best when it has a crazy plot, and there were certainty plenty of them. I did become weary during the extended Victoria arc, partially because I knew it wasn't going to work and it didn't end when it should have, but more because of the stereotypical ways it allowed the other characters to act when she wasn't around. Ted gets to complain to his guy friends about he secretly hats not being able to have sex with her for a month because she wanted to wait, and even though Lily subverts the "girls like long distance because it's all talking and no sex" idea, it was all quite disappointing. These stereotypical discussions make young women worried about what their boyfriends are really saying about them, when in reality that might not happen, and relationships should be based on good communication between the two partners anyway. It's even more frustrating considering HIMYM does attempt elsewhere to point out that girls enjoy sex and even hint that there's more to a relationship.

I might sound harsh, but these were the only few things that bugged me. The show is very fun and has a lot of potential, and I know it will get there because I've seen some of the inventive stuff it does in 2011. It does have a real heart and attempts to tackle complexities in relationships. And I can be awfully critical on relationships after knowing what the blueprint is for a good one, but I'm aware I may just be one of very many blueprints. (Still, Marshall and Lily, get back together now.)

Geek comment: Is this a secret Joss Whedon show? Because in addition to Alyson Hannigan, Alexis Densiof (Hannigan's husband and Wesley on Buffy and Angel) appears as Sandy Rivers, and Amy Acker (Fred on Angel) appears as Penelope in the season finale. [Update: and Neil Patrick Harris was in Dr. Horrible. And Cobie Smulders was apparently in The Avengers.]

Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson: Thoughts on book and the "problem novel" genre

This novel (and thus review) contains some content that may be triggering for some individuals.

I picked up Speak from the library, knowing it had significance (there's a whole imprint of books now named after it!), but not actually remembering what it was about. The blurb only says that the main character called the cops at a party over the summer and is now an outcast. Knowing there had to be more, I looked up the book on Wikipedia, and it told me in the first sentence: "the story of Melinda Sordino's rape, recover, and confession."  Unfortunately no one's gotten around to adding a writing section to the article, but I did find out that author Laurie Halse Anderson had a similar assault when she was Melinda's age, which did sadden me but it gave me a new perspective on the book. At any rate, Speak is the rape book. Probably the definitive one. The subject matter does make me hesitate when saying anything critical about it, but for the most part I believe it is very good at its job.

I don't think I've read a so-called "problem novel" before (unless The Fault in Our Stars counts?). Part of this is the fact that I never really delved into YA fiction, or contemporary for that matter. I've only been acquainted with this "genre" through my research of banned books. But Anderson can tell you all about that.

Did the book bother me? Not really. The general idea and fears of what it dealt with did bother me a little at the beginning, and after I read the first section I did not pick it up again for the rest of the day. In fairness, I had not gotten to the description of the incident in the book yet, and for all I know my uneasiness came from realizing I was reading a book that I was (sadly) afraid, much like the publisher's blurb, to describe what it really is about. I did not mind the fact it took a while to explain, as it makes sense with how Melinda did not want to remember and I was able to focus on her state of mind as an effect of the experience. I also thought the explanation was handled well; yes, alcohol was involved, which perhaps simplifies the matter, but the stream-of-consciousness style both edits out the more explicit parts and makes the whole description intensely personal.

In general, I believe "problem novels" are not just important for the people who go through these situations. Yes, it is true that this book could help (and it has) girls in Melinda's situation, but others can certainly get something out of it has well: empathy for those in this situation and knowledge of the issue, which can help them prevent it. So, no, I don't believe "problem novels" are gratuitous or depressing. If you ban them, you just prove the issues in them are unspeakable (see what I did there?).

I love the style Speak is written in. It's a bit like a diary or snippet format, broken into many small scenes that are then grouped into each of the grading periods of the school year. Each paragraph is actually its own block of text, and the scenes are short and broken up with titles. Melinda is quite distant, which is only to be expected, and it conveys how she views the world while still giving a clear picture of it.

The most surprising part about Speak was, actually, that Melinda is quite funny. This might be a given considering that being an outsider would lead her to bitter sarcasm, and I think it was an important facet to the novel because it contradicts the claim that these sorts of books are just depressing. It was actually really enjoyable reading; I found myself recognizing things she commented on (the class questioning whether algebra is used in real life and whether symbols are intended in novels), and even though she often relegated people into groups and stereotypes, that is how outsiders can see things. The people she really got to know were more complex.

Despite Melinda's distaste for English class, there are quite a few symbols in Speak, although I won't go into great detail here because I know they've been covered elsewhere. That said, I never quite felt the tree metaphor, as it mostly relies on what her dad says at the end which is not directly related to her art.

A lot of metaphor is used when Melinda describers her trigger points and memories of the encounter. The rapist, Andy, is often called "IT" and described like an animal. But while it is subtle, there is more of a story with Andy that makes him a (sadly) believable character than an evil monster. He is clearly someone who was never told that taking advantage of a drunk girl (or any girl) was wrong--moreover, he doesn't understand that it is wrong. And after he got some once, he got cocky and looked for more.

On the other hand, I do sort of wish there was more of a wrap-up to this. All the girls, noticing this behavior, began to turn on Andy and it's assumed that after the end, what he did will be be known. Still, the novel does not dive into the big part of the recovery: the trials, sentencing, and other aftermath...and unfortunately, not everyone is lucky enough to track down who raped them and get justice. I also think seeing Andy's testimony could help readers understand why rape really is a crime, and why the way he was thinking is wrong. Still, the novel accomplishes its main goal--telling authorities about sexual assault--which is an important first step in the process, and the novel did not end with a "yep, that's it, it's all over now" tone, indicating that this is merely a turning point.

[Anderson did write a novel, Catalyst, which takes place at the same high school a year later. The main character does talk to Melinda briefly, and she says that Andy was charged and put on probation--not jail--and has to register as a sex offender.]

The pregnancy/STD issue is also glossed over, only mentioned by Melinda's concerned ex-best friend when Melinda tells her of the incident. Melinda's account mentions no protection--but then again, it's possible one was slipped on because her account is choppy due to being drunk. But if not, she was conveniently fortunate.

Speak was written 15 years ago, in 1999. It's a pity it took that long for a book like this to be published. Has the world gotten better since then? Maybe. There has been a rise in advocacy for rape prevention and rape survivors, but there are also middle schoolers making rape jokes (I remember hearing the "it's not rape if you like it" one several times between giggling kids), and I just read the comments in this article which made me want to punch something. At any rate, it is at least true that most Americans receive sex education before eleventh grade (unlike Melinda's school; I was quite shocked at that).

Speak was daunting and hard to read in places, but ultimately it was worth it, even if I feel more as if I am appreciating it at a distance rather than really feeling connected.

How I Read

I thought I would talk a little bit about my reading habits, just for fun, and because I think it forms some of my opinions on this blog.

Where do I read? Anywhere, often when there's going to be a wait. For the most part I've carried books with me to school in case I had spare time; I've often red before bed; and often on the couch, in my room, and in the car (I waited a year--y'know, until I was actually 16 instead of 15--to take driver's ed because of this, which I can't say was the best decision because of my competitive nature--I was older than everyone and behind them). All of these habits were not always consistent.

How do I read? There was actually a time where I just read 30 pages every night. (That was how I got through Little Women.) I'm less structured now, and I'll read if I can and nothing else takes precedent. I don't like marathoning books (nor Netflix), preferring to live in a world for some time. Also, I feel guilty if I spend too much of my free time on just one hobby.

I also think I process stories more externally than internally, especially as I get older. I can get very involved with characters, plot, and setting (though plot and setting less so), but I tend not to engage in speculation and then inevitably feel let down. I don't get too involved in what characters should and shouldn't do. Rather, I take the text and think about how it relates to me, and read about what went on behind-the-scenes to shape it, and from that I usually form my opinion. (This applies to other media as well, especially television.)

What do I read? For most of my elementary school life, I ordered books out of the Scholastic catalog, so I've got a lot of children's (and a few YA) books from those catalogs. I also bought some from bookstores, received gifts, and borrowed from the school or library. I can't say I've progressed out of "children's" or "middle grade" especially well...I read more YA and adult and classics now, but I try not to feel shame for reading the upper-level "children's" books, because I still love many books in that age group (and I want to write it).

I originally read exclusively mysteries and contemporary (or even historical) fiction. Not anything really popular, because I have a natural aversion to those things. I avoided fantasy because that was what  Harry Potter was, and that was popular. Eventually I broke down because I was curious, running out of things to read, had delved into fantasy since picking up A Wrinkle in Time in third grade ("Special Edition: With an essay on the real-life science behind the fantasy."), I was even writing fantasy, and it wasn't so popular anymore anyway. So I read all 7 books in a month, and wow...fantasy could be intriguing and relatable too. (This story may not be entirely accurate, but it is to the best of my memory a significant example; I'm planning on doing posts on my most influential books later.)

That summer I read a lot of series that were often considered fantasy. I created a list of favorite series and reread them. But my fantasy series phase eventually closed down...I would love a first book, but as I progressed through the series I became more distant and felt as though I was just reading them to read them. I also wasn't great at keeping up with releases. Now I'm more interested in experimental one-shot novels of varying genres and age groups, as well as classics, always searching for something that seems to say something personal to me, and that makes me think.

Why I Like The Rings of Akhaten

This is a post I submitted to The I Like Doctor Who Project (an attitude I'd like to see more of on the Internet) about a particular episode I loved but doesn't have that great of a reputation. Though there are many reasons why I love it, I particularly focused on singing, storytelling, and not giving up, through a rather personal lens.

"The Rings of Akhaten" aired on April 6, 2013 near the end of my freshman year of high school, one of the more turbulent years of my life. I couldn't resist glancing at a few reviews online after the episode had aired in the UK but before it had aired in the US. Radio Times didn't like it, and it usually likes everything, and it didn't seem to be alone. I started to get upset, and I went into the viewing with low expectations. And then it blew me away. And the Internet still acted like it was obviously to be shorthand for "worst Smith episode."

There are quite a few reasons why I love "Akhaten." The themes of how memories, storytelling, and sentimentality comprise us; the exploration of Clara's past and her mother's encouraging words; Clara saving the day by essentially blowing the Old God's mind with the possibility of endless possibilities to every story; the symbol of the leaf, representing how every little occurance shapes our lives; the Doctor's insistence that every life is important; the wonder of Clara's first journey. Also, it's just downright gorgeous. But the main reason I love "The Rings of Akhaten," the reason I started tearing up on first viewing, is the singing.

Not everyone likes singing and musical numbers, and there are quite a few who may find the singing in this episode more embarrassing than moving. That is okay. But even if it doesn't work for you stylistically, that doesn't mean this episode gets it wrong.

I've loved singing ever since I was five years old and first watched The Sound of Music. But at some point around fourth or fifth grade, I got very shy about it, allowing my more popular classmates to take center stage while I thought I could sing, but called that a secret of mine. I signed up for choir in middle school--and most of my friends then would be taking it--but ended up moving, and the school I went to did not begin choir until seventh grade, and all my new friends took band or orchestra instead. I was alone.

I still loved everyone singing together, but the eighth graders in the class would pick on me--and once I believed I overheard comments about my singing--and the teacher did not want to be bothered with it and avoiding addressing the issue in a way that involved me. When I did tests in class I was told I was off-pitch, often a result of overthinking it, but no effort was made to explain this and help me. Because of my lack of "strong singing," rather than tested vocal range, I was a soprano. The older bullies were gone the next year, but my scores on tests were still lower than some of my classmates, I was paranoid other kids were discussing how awful my singing was, and I still proved I could not hit notes correctly when singing in front of others in class because I was afraid to be heard.

And in "Akhaten," there's Merry, a little girl who is supposed to sing but is afraid of it. She's afraid of "getting it wrong." And Clara doesn't just let her walk by; Clara gives her words or encouragement, Clara cares about her. Doctor Who is all about lifting people up to their potentials and showing them what they are capable of, after all. Merry's singing is valued highly--not something to be scoffed at, or to be afraid of. It's an honor, and it's beautiful.

...of course, that also means sacrifice in this world. Even if Merry's been prepared since she was very young, it's still terrifying. The Vigil might as well be the tension between her fear and her duty. But by the end, she's able to willingly stand up and sing to help all she can.

The climax relies not only on the Doctor, but on Clara and Merry as well. It's teamwork, helping each other out. Perhaps Merry only further appeases the planet with more stories and  songs, but her songs provide a momentum and energy that would not have been present otherwise--whether aesthetically or narratively. There is an immense power to it, something that can be generated when singing without being afraid. And the others join in. That background song spurs the Doctor and Clara along. (Clara is absolutely fantastic in this episode.)

Stories (even those contained in objects), songs, customs, and traditions are the bread and butter of our society. They both reflect and influence our culture. But there is a danger--the danger that the episode's conflict is built upon--where too much reliance on stories that have been passed down for so long causes harm. These people don't actually know what the Old God is, how it behaves, or the limits of their appeasement of it. It's the Doctor and Clara's quick-thinking outside of the box that helps upturn these customs and save the lives of the Akhaten people. Never run away from your problems, the Doctor essentially says.

The Doctor also goes out of his way to save Merry's life, too, because she isn't a Queen who is deserving of this ritual. She's just as individual as everyone else there. She might store thousands of stories, but buried in there are her own, unique experiences, and those are worth as much as everyone else.

"The Rings of Akhaten" left me so enthralled. It made me feel alive and worth something. I still continue to struggle with singing, but I believe it is getting better, and I'm now in a better environment and an alto. And it's comforting to know I have a powerful episode on lavish Blu-ray if I ever need something to brighten up my day. It's a spiritual journey of wonder and love. And that's what Doctor Who is all about.

Goodreads

So I discovered I still have a Goodreads account from 5 years ago and attempted to update it. I should be active on there from now on. My profile can be found here. I don't know if I will accept friend requests at this point, but I can be followed.