The Sidekick-him-while-he's-down

Today I'd like to talk a little about one of my favorite characters, courtesy of JK Rowling.

Raise your hand if you're familiar with the Harry Potter books. Not just the movies. I'm talking about the actual physical original books. (I hope there are a lot of people raising their hands out there.)

Now think about Ron Weasley. He's pretty okay, right? Ginger, funny, Harry's best friend and Hermione's love interest. Wait, are we still talking about the books? Because there's a lot more to recommend Mr Weasley if you take a look at the books instead of the movies.

[Spoilers!]

Big Damn Heroes

When you think of a stereotypical Strong Female Character in a book/movie/television show/play, how is she characterized? She's usually an overt warrior of some sort, tries to subvert the system and break out of her "feminine" boundaries, buddies up with the men, and berates or quietly judges her fellow women for not following in her footsteps.

So what do we do when presented with a Strong Female Character who doesn't quite fit into these standards? As an example I'd like to talk to you about Inara Serra of Firefly and Serenity; at a later date I'd like to discuss a few others as well.

[Beware: spoilers lie below this line!]

Vote Maggie

As an introduction to this post, I'd like to tell you a little about my 16-year-old sister, Maggie. First off, she's awesome. Her aspirations are somewhat inspiring; her "life plan" is to earn a PhD in history, become a tenured professor, be elected President for two terms and then serve as Secretary-General of the United Nations. Quite impressive, no?

Maggie is also hilariously entertaining, so of course I laughed this morning when she made this observation: 

Presidents are always old... They should lower the age so I can be President while I'm still young and hot. It's harder to be sexy when you're forty. My goal in life is to be a sexy political figure.

But then I started thinking about it. Why should that be so funny to me? Why shouldn't she be a "sexy political figure"? Here comes the Equality Train, and my sister has volunteered as the engineer.

Word of the Week: Dubious

The last few days have had me all in a tizzle over dubious.

Word of the Week: An Intro

Alright, internet, I'm going to do a new thing! For your enjoyment (and to keep me posting regularly), Word of the Week is going to become a regular feature. I'll whip out a particular word that's been tickling my fancy, give you a short introduction to its definition, etymology, and any interesting trivia surrounding it, and then write a little bit about why it's my word of the week. 

Brace yourselves!

Divination

What makes people choose their next reading materials? Some go strictly by genre - adventure, romance, Young Adult; others choose only certain authors or read only on a specific subject (for example, I used to read anything I could get my hands on about the Tudors: "diaries," nonfiction, rambling fantastical novels). But are their favorite books all in the same category?

For the Love of Words

If you've spent any time glancing around at this blog, you may have spotted the quotes page. I've got quite a fondness for quotes and have spent years amassing a collection of them - scribbled into notebooks, tacked to bulletin boards, stashed away on index cards, lining my mirror on Post-it notes.

Writing 2: In Darkness

Tonight, I drive.
I like rolling quietly, alone, through the darkened town. It is deserted and safe, so unlike my midnight city. A lone pack of roaming teenagers darts in front of the car before disappearing down the nearest alley.

Tonight, I listen.
Melancholy songs trickle from the radio and mince through my head. They speak of love and regret - always, love and regret - but it is not mine. Never mine.

Tonight, I sigh.
My life is unfinished, undone, unwritten, unsung. I am No One of No Legend, the familiar face without a place in the background of your world.

Tonight, I sleep.
My restlessness abates and the fog of dreams descends.

A More Perfect Union

I could say that not allowing people who love each other to get married - that is undermining the institution of marriage! (source)

Climb Into Her Skin

Written in response to this article.

Honestly, why does it even matter who wrote To Kill a Mockingbird? We were given a marvelous gift in this novel. Its authorship is of no consequence except to Harper Lee's honor - and she herself seems to take no interest in the "scandal." Why can't we accept something beautiful for what it is without trying to drag it through the mud?

Down by the Riverside

The book I've just finished is a fantastic novel by Arundhati Roy entitled The God of Small Things. I first encountered it as a summer reading assignment in 2009, just before my junior year of high school. That's when I fell in love. I could write for years on end about this book; in fact, I've already written quite a long paper on the theme of loss of innocence in The God of Small Things and another of my favorites, Evening Is the Whole Day.

There are so few books that can immediately capture my fancy that I become practically obsessed with the ones that succeed. I revel in their beauty. I bask in their glory. And yet I constantly try to identify precisely what about them so enthralls me.

For the most part, I believe, it is the humanity. My favorite books are about people and their lives and their love and their struggles. The God of Small Things is no different. Again and again I find myself tugged into the world of Ayemenem, watching the Meenachal flow constantly and sluggishly by as Estha and Rahel's lives are torn apart.

I love that river. I was raised by the water - on the eastern shore of Mobile Bay - and the magic of its movements have always fascinated me. Water is constant and yet unpredictable. Gentle yet ruthless. It is always an uncertainty. One minute your water is peaceful and the next it has destroyed everything you know.

Water is so like the flow of humanity. Civilizations become the tides upon which all our minuscule wave-selves ride. We each have our moment to break upon the shore, to rise and fall without acclaim or much notice at all, but then there come the monsters of humanity - the waves that refuse to pass unrecognized, the people that rage and roil and crash until finally their destruction is done. They have swallowed their wave enemies. They have flattened a sand-castle. And now they retreat, leaving a legacy of terror and tears despite which they will eventually be forgotten with the rest of us.

Writing 1: Weather

The rain whips around buildings and people. It plays tug-of-war with raincoats and tickles those sheltering under the eaves. Thunder lumbers over the rooftops. Ancient oaks thrash against the storm. Lightning sends flashbulbs popping into darkened rooms, illuminating their occupants in a stop-motion dance of frightened eyes and nervous laughs and hands held imperceptibly tighter. The air cools. Chimerical umbrella-human hybrids scuttle across the flooded streets. The night roars, ensconced in its power.

Calm descends in the darkness, wrapping the ravaged city in its warm embrace. The dirt drinks the flood as exhausted branches let their weight drag them toward it. Sleeping bodies relax in their lovers' arms.

Dawn creeps into darkened alleyways. The sun rages against the night's rebellion. Stubborn puddles are beaten back. Wet heat spirals up from the grass, sprouting tentative tendrils before blossoming into a rainforest by midday. The umbrellas are sheathed, awaiting their moment to battle the deluge once more.

Night encircles the city once again, bringing another storm and another story.