Over 10 years ago I watched the movie Edward Scissorhands. And unlike every other girl my age, I absolutely hated it. Not because I didn’t emotionally connect with it - on the contrary - because I did so too much. And because my brain let me down. Somewhere up there, in the mass of grey, a bunch of cells forgot to send the word to another bunch of cells that the fact it was snowing meant that yes, Edward WAS alive, and that NO he had not killed himself as a result of the small town’s cruelty. So until a year or two back when Miss Verity insisted that we watch the film again (despite my screaming protests) I had lived with this misconception and was therefore immensely surprised to see that an obvious and key plot development in the final few moments had escaped my attention. And in fact the film is quite lovely (although it would have been better if the small-town, bigoted jock-boys had been thrown into jail or in the very least decapitated).
A similar thing has just happened to me.
I have just finished the What is the What by Dave Eggers – an author whose catalogue I have read most of, and a book I had asked for and received this past Christmas from Dave*. It is the story of Valentino Achak Deng, one of the ‘Lost Boys’ displaced by Sudan’s civil war during the 80s and 90s. I enjoyed the book immensely; it was page-turning and eye-opening. However prior to reading the novel I read a review in the Sunday Times about how the book’s real-life protagonist had died as a result of an assault whilst living in the USA, just after the book went to print. So it was with heavy heat that I soaked up his story. His triumphs and tribulations made all the more tragic by the tragic end to his life. Upon the book’s conclusion, I did my normal thing, and looked it up on the net, seeing what others had thought, reading interviews with the author etc. etc. And it was to my great surprise to learn that Valentino is still alive and kicking. Not murdered. Alive. Breathing. Doing amazing charity work. And I should have felt joyous at this news, but instead I felt cheated. And that maybe his story was a little less poignant… which is completely unfair as his journey and thoughts deserve nothing less than our full admiration.
So I blame my brain. It obviously is faulty and I’m making inquiries into trading it in for a better model.
*I am so terrible about buying or coveting books. If I’m within 100metres of a bookstore, I feel a huge gravitational pull that results in lost hours and piles of books I’m unlikely to read in the next year (3 for 2 Dave!! 3 for 2!!!!!). In fact, a while back Kym Kelly suggested that I do a blog entry on my (rather anally arranged) bookshelf. I thought about it for a few days but after statistically analyzing the percentage of books I had actually read, decided that some serious reading needed to be done before that blog entry saw the light of day. As their ain't nothing impressive about a bookshelf that only… say… 55% of the content has actually had its’ spine cracked. I mean, one could conclude that I only have Vickram Seth’s A Suitable Boy on there solely to impress, I mean HAHAHA… HA.. who would… do.. mmmm… ha?
And while I’m talking about cows, I just thought I would relay an interesting insight into ME. Grand Designs is one of the very few shows which Dave and I will both agree to watch (the apprentice and jonathan ross being the ONLY other two) and whilst Dave quietly enjoys the infinity pools and sleek climate-controlled cellars, I normally find myself choking on my earl gray over the amazing libraries then collapsing into a kicking and screaming heap on the floor informing Dave that I WANT ONE.
Oh – have I mentioned that I have been baking of late? (Having never baked anything in my life before). See the sponge cake below. In you FACE, Nigella.
A similar thing has just happened to me.
I have just finished the What is the What by Dave Eggers – an author whose catalogue I have read most of, and a book I had asked for and received this past Christmas from Dave*. It is the story of Valentino Achak Deng, one of the ‘Lost Boys’ displaced by Sudan’s civil war during the 80s and 90s. I enjoyed the book immensely; it was page-turning and eye-opening. However prior to reading the novel I read a review in the Sunday Times about how the book’s real-life protagonist had died as a result of an assault whilst living in the USA, just after the book went to print. So it was with heavy heat that I soaked up his story. His triumphs and tribulations made all the more tragic by the tragic end to his life. Upon the book’s conclusion, I did my normal thing, and looked it up on the net, seeing what others had thought, reading interviews with the author etc. etc. And it was to my great surprise to learn that Valentino is still alive and kicking. Not murdered. Alive. Breathing. Doing amazing charity work. And I should have felt joyous at this news, but instead I felt cheated. And that maybe his story was a little less poignant… which is completely unfair as his journey and thoughts deserve nothing less than our full admiration.
So I blame my brain. It obviously is faulty and I’m making inquiries into trading it in for a better model.
*I am so terrible about buying or coveting books. If I’m within 100metres of a bookstore, I feel a huge gravitational pull that results in lost hours and piles of books I’m unlikely to read in the next year (3 for 2 Dave!! 3 for 2!!!!!). In fact, a while back Kym Kelly suggested that I do a blog entry on my (rather anally arranged) bookshelf. I thought about it for a few days but after statistically analyzing the percentage of books I had actually read, decided that some serious reading needed to be done before that blog entry saw the light of day. As their ain't nothing impressive about a bookshelf that only… say… 55% of the content has actually had its’ spine cracked. I mean, one could conclude that I only have Vickram Seth’s A Suitable Boy on there solely to impress, I mean HAHAHA… HA.. who would… do.. mmmm… ha?
And while I’m talking about cows, I just thought I would relay an interesting insight into ME. Grand Designs is one of the very few shows which Dave and I will both agree to watch (the apprentice and jonathan ross being the ONLY other two) and whilst Dave quietly enjoys the infinity pools and sleek climate-controlled cellars, I normally find myself choking on my earl gray over the amazing libraries then collapsing into a kicking and screaming heap on the floor informing Dave that I WANT ONE.
Oh – have I mentioned that I have been baking of late? (Having never baked anything in my life before). See the sponge cake below. In you FACE, Nigella.
fred being ever so 'helpful'
a big thank you to beth (and her boobs) for whipping that cream.
yep, it's clean.
cooling rack? BANG!!
lesson : baking paper = not edible.
it tasted as good as it looked.
knife not really necessary seeing as I ate the whole thing in one sitting
mmmmmmm.
mum, you are the best most domestic baking goddess ever in the history of the universe.
1 comment:
It was a pretty amazing cake, which you had help in devouring...
...you called me 'beth'.
Heh. That's weird.
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