4th of July Weekend: 2 books, Random Clothes, Friends and Family.
I have not seen any movies lately-not even my netflix movie-The Fog of War. McNamara just died, so I should watch but it seems so depressing right now.
And I've seen so many crazily dressed people-so many I can't count that high. There was:
The girl I saw walking in a rainstorm-barefoot.
The other girl saw wearing plain pants with a subtle plaid in them-they weren't bad until I got closer and saw they had shiny gold thread in them-not good.
The woman wearing the MOST unflattering pair of capris I've had the misfortune to see. The cut her off at the worst spot on the leg, the were white and they were so tight I thought she was going to bust out of them.
And various other miscreants of fashion.
I went to see my family for the 4th and it was really nice. I went shopping (DSW, Banana, resale and outlets), went out to dinner with D and her step-mom and hung out with M and the dogg. Dinner was especially good-mainly because of my family (and how rare it is I would write something like that). Usually at dinner with my family, someone says something, someone else gets angry and yells, or says something mean or is quiet the rest of the night. But this time, everyone was on their best behavior. We all seemed to be funny and charming (and I only had one drink, so it's not the alcohol talking). It was really nice and everyone had a good time.
And I read two great books.
The Skull Mantra isn't really for the faint of heart. Shan is a Chinese prisoner sent to Tibet for the crime of exposing corruption in the wrong political circles of Beijing. What's he doing now? He's breaking rocks and building roads in one the most inhospitable areas of the world. The Chinese are trying to take over Tibet and destroy it's people-and the Commander running the camp and his people beat the prisoners for no reason-just because they can. And it's in this climate that Shan is ordered to discover who murdered the local prosecutor. But there's more to this story than meets the eye. There is Shan's story, the Tibetans story, the Chinese version and even some Americans tossed in. It's both uplifting and terribly depressing-I loved it. And he doesn't die at the end! Yay!
At the opposite end of the scale (although not really when I think about it) is Proust Was a Neuroscientist. This book takes some very well known writers (and a couple of musicians) and demonstrates how their works ties into the how the brain and our senses work and interact-it was fascinating. Proust's sense of taste ties into neurology and the falsity of memory, Escoffier's sense of taste ties into how was actually taste things physically (this chapter made me hungry), and Walt Whitman's heightened senses reveal themselves in his work and how the body functions. For me, the most moving chapter was on Virginia Woolf. Woolf's sense of herself, her belief in her core being the was used to hold together various parts of her struck very close to home to me. And the parts of her diary in which she deals with depression were a bit unnerving-but she was right-looking at it closely and writing about it makes it better.
Why are these books alike? Many of these writers (Proust, Eliot, Woolf) had disease, depression and heartbreak that made it hard for them to get through life-and yet they did. They lived and wrote and did well (well, until Woolf killed herself and Proust died fairly young) but they tried. And that's what Shan is doing in the Skull Mantra. he is living and learning about himself and Tibet-and what he is capable of doing and others as well. This kind of knowledge can be hard and hard-won but is it worth it? The answer is always "yes".
And I've seen so many crazily dressed people-so many I can't count that high. There was:
The girl I saw walking in a rainstorm-barefoot.
The other girl saw wearing plain pants with a subtle plaid in them-they weren't bad until I got closer and saw they had shiny gold thread in them-not good.
The woman wearing the MOST unflattering pair of capris I've had the misfortune to see. The cut her off at the worst spot on the leg, the were white and they were so tight I thought she was going to bust out of them.
And various other miscreants of fashion.
I went to see my family for the 4th and it was really nice. I went shopping (DSW, Banana, resale and outlets), went out to dinner with D and her step-mom and hung out with M and the dogg. Dinner was especially good-mainly because of my family (and how rare it is I would write something like that). Usually at dinner with my family, someone says something, someone else gets angry and yells, or says something mean or is quiet the rest of the night. But this time, everyone was on their best behavior. We all seemed to be funny and charming (and I only had one drink, so it's not the alcohol talking). It was really nice and everyone had a good time.
And I read two great books.
The Skull Mantra isn't really for the faint of heart. Shan is a Chinese prisoner sent to Tibet for the crime of exposing corruption in the wrong political circles of Beijing. What's he doing now? He's breaking rocks and building roads in one the most inhospitable areas of the world. The Chinese are trying to take over Tibet and destroy it's people-and the Commander running the camp and his people beat the prisoners for no reason-just because they can. And it's in this climate that Shan is ordered to discover who murdered the local prosecutor. But there's more to this story than meets the eye. There is Shan's story, the Tibetans story, the Chinese version and even some Americans tossed in. It's both uplifting and terribly depressing-I loved it. And he doesn't die at the end! Yay!
At the opposite end of the scale (although not really when I think about it) is Proust Was a Neuroscientist. This book takes some very well known writers (and a couple of musicians) and demonstrates how their works ties into the how the brain and our senses work and interact-it was fascinating. Proust's sense of taste ties into neurology and the falsity of memory, Escoffier's sense of taste ties into how was actually taste things physically (this chapter made me hungry), and Walt Whitman's heightened senses reveal themselves in his work and how the body functions. For me, the most moving chapter was on Virginia Woolf. Woolf's sense of herself, her belief in her core being the was used to hold together various parts of her struck very close to home to me. And the parts of her diary in which she deals with depression were a bit unnerving-but she was right-looking at it closely and writing about it makes it better.
Why are these books alike? Many of these writers (Proust, Eliot, Woolf) had disease, depression and heartbreak that made it hard for them to get through life-and yet they did. They lived and wrote and did well (well, until Woolf killed herself and Proust died fairly young) but they tried. And that's what Shan is doing in the Skull Mantra. he is living and learning about himself and Tibet-and what he is capable of doing and others as well. This kind of knowledge can be hard and hard-won but is it worth it? The answer is always "yes".
posted by SHbookworm at 12:23 PM
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