Princesses and Pornstars

In my eyes, my mother will always be the ultimate feminist. She never campaigned for her right to work or vote, she never wrote essays or participated in protests. But she is a passionate advocate for women's rights to their own bodies. She has worked alongside many women who have had those rights violated. She is a homemaker, but she is a homemaker because that's what she wants to be. She is not a homemaker because she feels societal pressure to be so. If anything, she has had pressure in the opposite direction. Her greatest life ambition was to raise children and to devote her time to her family, and she did this despite the disapproval of her pro-career generation.

My mum would never call herself a feminist, though. To her, feminism is embodied by single career-women with little respect for family. To her, feminism means man-hating.

Emily Maguire, in Princesses & Pornstars aims to debunk exactly these kinds of myths. She discusses why feminism is about equality, and why equality is still something we need to strive for. In recounting her own experiences and those of many friends and acquaintances, she shows that feminism is not a dirty word and it is not a fight that is behind us.

I was especially drawn to the chapters about marriage and child-rearing. Compared to women in generations gone by, I am exceptionally lucky. I have political rights. I have intellectual rights. I have rights in the workplace.

But.

I am a young woman with no desire for a white 'meringue' wedding. Or domestic 'bliss' of the suburban white-picket-fence sort. Or children.

People seem to find this extremely threatening.

Drawing Down the Moon

Have I mentioned before that I absolutely adore fantasy art?

Two imports arrived for me this week at work (I work in a bookshop), and I literally jumped up and down in my excitement.

The first was a collection of Arthur Rackham's illustrations, which I'm sure I'll mention again once I've had a chance to look at it. The second was Drawing Down the Moon: The Art of Charles Vess. The book is full of gorgeous fantasy illustrations and contains commentary from Charles Vess himself.

I was very interested to read: "After college, when I returned to the 'real world,' I had to struggle for many years to regain that lost, individual sense of whimsical fantasy that those school years tried to squelch." I hope the same doesn't happen to my writing.

This is my favourite book in all the world

I'm currently rereading The Princess Bride, and I'd forgotten how much I loved it. Actually I'm going to spend my whole year loving it (I hope), because I get to write my Honours thesis on it. I'm a little excited about the project.

Anyway, rereading one of my favourite books made me realize that I've never shared my favourites on here. So, here they are:

The Princess Bride by William Goldman
I love this book because of its playfulness and its truth. I love so many of the characters- Inigo, the vengeful Spaniard, is my favourite. How can you not love the dialogue? (Much of which is in the film. Don't tell me you haven't seen the film. You'll break my heart.) And how can you not love Goldman for continually taking the piss out of his own work?
This book is pure satire, in all its sarcastic, entertaining glory.
First line: "This is my favourite book in all the world, though I have never read it."

The Emily series by L.M. Montgomery
I first read these when I was seven years old. If there are any books which define me, these are it. I quote these books continually, I've internalised them. They're by the author of Anne of Green Gables, but where Anne is flamboyant and loud, Emily is dreamy and intense. She lives in a world where fairies are always seconds away and words shape our existence.
Quote: "there is something BEYOND words--any words--all words--something that always escapes you when you try to grasp it--and yet leaves something in your hand which you wouldn't have had if you hadn't reached for it."

The Liveship Traders trilogy by Robin Hobb
I have never met characters who seemed more real. They step off the page. They learn, they grow, they ache. Robin Hobb allows her characters to go through things most authors would cringe at, and she allows them to be truly flawed (no 'token flaws' here).
And whaddayaknow? Their confused and flawed actions shape history in ways that you couldn't have guessed, yet seem just as real and inevitable as any human history.
Epic fantasy which is entitled to take itself seriously.

Girl in Hyacinth Blue by Susan Vreeland
This book is a collection of short stories about a single painting. A beautiful exploration of the ways in which art touches us, changes us and commemorates our passions. Girl in Hyacinth Blue gives us the history of a painting (possibly a Vermeer) through the lives of the people who admired its beauty, from the man who destroyed it to the girl who posed for it.

Stardust by Neil Gaiman and Charles Vess
Sparkling and funny. Fantastical and unsettling. Brilliant.

Merch, merch, merch

Alas, summer brings with it summer reading habits. For me, this usually means a general inability to commit to a book from beginning to end unless it is a.) incredibly engaging, or b.) a piece of fluff. The result is that I have nothing interesting to report in terms of my personal reading.

I did, however, discover a fabulous website where you can order t-shirts with all kinds of esoteric and hilarious slogans. There are a lot of wonderful Jane Austen Ts. I'm going to order these:

If you don't get them, brush up on your grammar and read Pride and Prejudice. Both will enrich your life.

Widening Horizons

Salon's Laura Miller invites you to read a book you think you'll hate in 2010:

"Champions of the book like to think that reading broadens the mind and expands the sensibility. It can't do that, though, if the reading lists we choose from are too narrow."

Read more here.

The film of the book

One of the things I most often hear over the counter at work is that “the book is always better than the film.” Well, the customer is not always right. I beg to differ. While in the public consciousness books and films enjoy a long history of antagonism, their actual relationship is one of mutual support.

Angela Meyer, in her awesome booky blog last month, pointed out that our “generation learns everything backwards –

And now for a complete contradiction...

Above is the cover of a book I am currently reading. It's a book about economics, not a strength of mine, so I'm struggling a little to keep up. But so far, the gist is this: while we view the world as if value and price were roughly equivalent, they actually aren't. 'Price' is a highly artificial construct, and to move forward responsibly, we need to recognise it as such. So far, so good.

You can read more about the book here, and a review written by someone who does understand economics can be found here.

Meanwhile, I'm also reading the book shown below, a chronicle of just some of the 3000 vintage fashion pieces inherited by author Charlotte Smith. Each double page depicts a gorgeous illustration of the dress (or other item of clothing) in question, alongside a charming story about the adventures of a woman who once wore it.

You can find out more about the book here and read the author’s blog here.

My dad would laugh and call me a ‘good little consumer’ (style is my guilty passion), but I truly identify with the attitude Dreaming of Dior takes to clothes. There is something about wearing clothes you love which transcends the desire to cover yourself and/or look attractive.

Clothes become part of your identity. They say things about you that you would never dare to say aloud. They remind you of the wonderful times you’ve had in them. They add beauty and colour to an ordinary day. Getting dressed in the morning is an opportunity to centre myself, to begin the day as the person I want to be.

In spite of that, the better part of me knows that Patel is right. I have too many clothes.

Buy on fishpond: The Value of Nothing, Dreaming of Dior

Neil Gaiman's Sandman

I've mentioned the Sandman comics a few times in passing. Now it's time to give them a proper treatment.

I've been a fan of Neil Gaiman for a couple of years now, so when I made the decision a few months ago to start reading more comics it seemed natural to start with the Sandman. I really didn't expect to enjoy them so much.

The series's main protagonist is Dream (aka Morpheus/the Sandman), lord of the realm of dreams (and stories). It begins with Dream being captured by humans, and the hideous consequences which occur when mortals meddle in such things.

I've enjoyed later installments even more than the first one. The character that's really captured my attention is Dream's older sister, Death. She's just so... well, for starters, she's hot. But she's also cute, and rather lovable. When she turns up to chat with the recently deceased, why wouldn't they want to go with her?

The treatment of death as something to embrace (not before one's time, but as a natural part of life) is common theme in Gaiman's work, and one I like.

For now, I'm ordering the fourth volume of the Sandman from Minotaur, a brilliant store in Melbourne which sells all kinds of wonderful things related to pop culture and cult followings.