about as purposeful as polishing wood...

I had that mail order Catholic soul, that you get from a girl from the bush who's only thought is of getting into town.

Thursday morning breakfast song:

The possibility of Sarah Lawrence has reaped positive effects. To begin, I've curbed my sitcom intake. As I'd mentioned in posts of old, 'Everybody Loves Raymond' makes my brain bleed, but I watch it, diligently because I can't think of anything else to do. Oh! Silly Hula! I've a bookshelf that's so dangerously stacked it tilts inward at what could be a 30 degree angle. Evenmore, I'm surrounded - and I should really surrender to the bookstores, all cozy and kitschy, that are within a blocks radius of every perimeter surrounding my apartment. So that's just what I did/do. I read like it's my job and I think I'll dedicate a bittle of this blog - maybe make it purposeful in scope, or in the very least, keep it from being all self-indulgent (besides, that's the beauty of livejournal!) or a bore a condensed area for ramblings.

Therefore, tangent aside, I've a lovely book to recommend:

Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides (of The Virgin Suicides acclaim) is the first book, in a long while, that I've harbored a love/hate relationship for. Allow me to explain. I like the book. I think it was a bold effort, executed flawlessly in terms of syntax, style and devices. Eugenides is kind of a master of his time with word games. I didn't, however (and much to my dismay) come across any passages that kept me from moving forward. As an avid reader I long for such passages. The paragraph or line or snippet of dialogue that's so intriguing, so lovely in sound or size that you can't keep from reading it over and over again. Eugenides, rather, keeps things concise. He shows more than he tells, but his prose is so determined, and seemingly so assertive and sure of itself that you feel he's simply telling you a story and that you, the reader, aren't doing much work at all. That's quite a feat on the part of Mr. Eugenides, especially considering the entire novel is dedicated to characterization. Even more tricky is the historical lineage he provides. There are so many characters, and so much of a back story that it's a wonder the reader can keep up at all. However, somehow it's easy. Transition from time and space are seamless and the characters are so well developed that the reader will more than likely invest a great deal of concern in each and every one of them. A critique I have, however, is that with so many characters a few, key and essential, seem to fall off the map for 100's of pages at a time. Eugenides obviously realizes this as he has the narrarator explain the missing objects, but that seems too easy- a tricky literary device that seems haphazardly placed.

I found the first 400 pages of the novel a marvel. It wasn't until the end, which, ironically, explains the premise, purpose and denoument of the story, that I became a bittle agitated. Let me explain: while this story is masterfully told - a long, slow read that places you in both lush and trash ridden settings, and allows you to feel the love of incest with great success- it takes an entirely different one in the last 100 or so pages of the novel. I believe this was deliberate but it didn't work on me. Within the last section the prose moves much more quickly. So fast that I wondered if I were reading the same text. Eugenides also seems to focus on plot much more than characterization in this last section. Newer, and seemingly important characters that are introduced are hardley given a second thought after their one or two page cameo. Furthermore, an incredibley important and decisive climax to the story seems second-thought- rushed and terribly overworked. Now, I'm sure others will debate me in saying the first 3/4's of the novel dictated or symbolized a 'female', 'circular and descriptive' writing style, while the last section played off the masculine writing prototype. For those unaware of the premise, the book explains the story of a pseduohermaphrodite. But I don't buy such change in literary style. I think if it was intentional it's being too overtly symbolic and therefore endangering the beauty of the prose.

Because I was such a fan of the first 3 sections I can not dismiss the beauty of this novel and therefore recommend it with a rating of 3/4 Hula Hoops.

Has anyone else dabbled in the Eugenides? Thoughts/opinions/love?