Happy Fourth

Hope everyone's barbecuing and picnicking, as required by law. Because I'm mostly chilling, I thought I'd post some mini-reviews and recommendations of things of interest I've been reading lately.

Ah, Margaret Atwood--let me count the ways I love Margaret Atwood. I don't believe I've read everything she's ever written, although it's probably pretty close. And you may be aware that I named this blog after one of her stories. Well, she has a new collection of stories out, Moral Disorder, which I recently plowed through. It was, as with all of her work, thought-provoking, humane, unforgettably detailed. It's a series of stories, but in their totality, they tell a story of a life and a family. Atwood has always drawn her female characters with great care, representing their own complexities and the limitations imposed on them both by themselves and by the times and environments in which they live: reliable young girls expected to help raise younger siblings; schoolgirls pushed and pulled by maturing bodies, other people's responses to them, and moral codes imposed on what "good girls" do and do not do; young women in new professional environments navigating the minefield of powerful, entitled, and horny old men. In this book, as with most of her others, Atwood shows the layers of confusion, anger, resignation, and internalization of societal expectations inherent in just being female in the world.

And as an added bonus for my country relatives, this (apparently somewhat-autobiographical) book has stories featuring memorable characters who happen to be animals, as the narrator spends a portion of her life on a farm. And, okay, that really spoke to my experience too, as someone who has, for example, been acquainted with a cranky horse with stubby legs and a million tricks for making this whole "ride" thing come to an abrupt end.

On the flip side, I wanted to like The Reserve. I recall liking The Sweet Hereafter and Affliction (but maybe I just saw the movies of each of these and didn't actually read them). I can appreciate noir for what it is, and this is obviously a nod to that, as well as an homage to Ernest Hemingway. It was perhaps a mistake to follow Atwood up with a book featuring cardboard female characters. What we find out is that they have "creamy" skin and that they cross their "long" legs (they never ever just cross their legs). Their internal life is basically about who they find manly and attractive. Even, it seems, in the midst of devastating loss of a parent and incipient emotional breakdown, these women can only be focused on scheming and plotting for seduction. And okay, it's not as though any of the characters--male or female--were drawn with full depth, and yes, there was a certain stylized form to the book to capture the genre.

But I jumped off this train, I have to admit, because of the prose. After about the fortieth reference to "the artist Jordan Groves" (For the love of god, the scene is him in bed with his wife. We know who we is!) I cracked and couldn't take it anymore. Save yourself the hassle and read Hemingway instead, or better yet if you want adultery and mental breakdown and characters that are human, Fitzgerald.

Finally, for the Angel fans, you can do worse than pick up the comics continuing after season 5. The comic series, overseen by Buffy/Angel creator Joss Whedon and based on his sketches for the canceled sixth season of the show, are a great way to immerse yourself back in the universe and find out what happens next.