Parenting is hard work. I know that’s a cliche, but it’s a well-earned cliche.
Kids are pretty awesome, and they can even teach you a thing or two about reading, but they also have their moments. That’s why, if you want to be a parent, it’s important to make sure you are not a mental whack job.
Mental whack jobs who are parents usually produce kids who eventually become mental whack jobs themselves. This is not good.
Since fiction is often just a mirror of reality, there’s a lot to learn from literary parents, both good and whack jobbish.
Quite a bit, actually. Let’s take at some parenting tips I put together based on lessons I’ve learned from literary parents.
Hooray for Valentines Day!
Today is a wonderful opportunity to gorge oneself on overpriced chocolate and questionable fettucine alfredo, while dining with the one you love.
Or, if you’re tired of hearing everyone yapping about love and such, then perhaps you’d like to relish in the dark, miserable side of romance.
Like these terrible couples from literature, for example. So if you hate Valentines Day, then today’s post is for you.
Here are some of the worst couples in literature–at least that I could think of.
A good story is a good story is a good story. That’s why most great novels are adapted into films and plays and even musicals.
Musicals? Of course!
Now, sometimes, the execution of said story into another format is lacking. Or maybe the particular story just isn’t a good fit for a visual medium. That’s why, to date, we haven’t seen an Infinite Jest film. But Blood Meridian? Would someone please film Blood Meridian?
But back to musicals. When I started this project, I had no idea how many famous novels had been adapted into the realm of Broadway. It’s pretty impressive.
But, I kid not, when I say nearly every book on this Time list has had at least some attempt at a musical.
Here’s just a few that stand out:
So you guys gave your answers to our first game of literary would you rather on Friday. I thought I’d jump in and give my answers today.
Take a look at Friday’s post for a review.
Look, I’ll be the first to tell you that I’m passionate about college football. At times, even unreasonably so.
And I think my wife would agree that my love of college football has become more balanced with age. My life doesn’t revolve around whether or not Georgia wins a game on Saturday. Thank God.
Now, I want you to watch this video featuring a mentally unbalanced Tennessee fan whose emotional well-being appears to depend on a Tennessee win. I promise I’m going somewhere with this…just humor me.
But please note: This video is not safe for work, unless your employer enjoys loud, repeated use of the F Word and the GD word. If that’s the case, you have permission to skip to the copy below the video.
Okay. I’ll give in.
It’s Valentines Day. That means I have to do the obligatory, “Hey! It’s Valentines Day! Write a post about love or hearts or romance or something from Hallmark.” That’s not a requirement? Oh crap.
We’ll I’m already 40 words into this post, so I’ll keep going.
In honor of Valentines Day, I present to you 6 of the greatest love stories that aren’t really love stories in literature. Hopefully, I’ll be able to keep my “man card” after this post.
What if the two weightiest books I’ve read so far on the Time list squared off in a death match? What would happen?
Oh, you don’t think books would ever get in vicious and violent death matches, do you? Well, you obviously don’t have my warped mind.
Gone With The Wind and Infinite Jest are obnoxiously large books. They’re leviathans, the sumo wrestlers of the literary kingdom. If they squared off in a fight to the death, here’s how I see it breaking down:
Whether or not you’re into the Gone With The Wind story or the Margaret Mitchell mystique, it’s almost impossible not to admit the impact the novel has had on literature–and, really, the world.
The book, not the movie, turns 75 this month. The Margaret Mitchell House in my old hometown of Atlanta is, of course, celebrating by showcasing the original manuscript.
When I read Gone With The Wind last fall, my 5th book on the list if you are keeping score at home, it was my first experience with this book or movie. Growing up as a southerner and not having some experience with Gone With The Wind is kind of like growing up in Florida and never going to the beach. Or something like that.
But I read it–and, to my surprise, relatively enjoyed it. Scarlett and Ashley were two of the more intolerable characters in the history of fiction, but I managed to get through their nonsense.
The book (and the movie, of course) is truly iconic. Everyone seems to have a Gone With The Wind story–the first time they read the book or watched the movie, how they hated Scarlett and loved Rhett, how they felt when it finally ended. The story definitely people in all sorts of ways.
So…what’s your Gone With The Wind Story?
Before I start today’s post, I’ll openly admit I’m totally copying this idea from The Good Greatsby. And I like it so much, I think I’ll make a reocurring series of posts from it. I’m sure my version won’t be near as funny and insightful, but I’ll give it a try.
Here’s the deal. The cool thing about having a blog on WordPress is that you see all of the search terms that people plug into Google, Yahoo, etc to find your blog. About one-third of my daily blog traffic comes from search engines, so I always see some wacky and random questions and weird search terms pop up.
So I’ll attempt to answer these questions–in all of their unedited glory–to the best of my ability. These are actual search terms that found my blog. Let’s begin.
Way back in November, before most of you knew this blog existed, I reviewed an obscure little novel called Gone With The Wind. Heard of it?
Margaret Mitchell’s southern classic was book #5 for me–and, until I finish Infinite Jest, the longest novel I’ve read. Anyway, the book has been in the news recently because the last four chapters of the original manuscript–once thought to be burned–have been discovered at a small library in Connecticut.
The story goes that Margaret Mitchell thought all of her work should be judged in final, not draft, form and she directed her husband to burn all of her early manuscripts after she died. Well he did that, almost.