Go b(u)y the book

Ah! Capitalism! What a time to be telling people to buy stuff (seen the last South Park episode?). No but seriously, if you must buy a book, you may gladly take my favorites as inspiration. I noticed I hadn’t written a “Fave Five” in a while, and since my friends have been using the “LivingSocial” application on Facebook (don’t even get me started – it’s gotten me so pissed today – nothing but painfully slow and won’t save any changes I make), I decided to try out picking the five books I love the most (because my list of series is way too long in comparison). So here they are listed again, only without the covers (which you really shouldn’t judge them by anyway), therefore with side notes.

1. Ian McEwan – Atonement. Brilliant! The first part (187 pages) is about one day. One day, and yet it was the most suspenseful thing I had ever read. At the end of each chapter is a cliffhanger worse than in any series. And the perspective keeps changing from one character to another, so that each time you learn a little more but never the whole story.  Part two (another 80 pages) suddenly takes place in World War II, this time being told from one single (male) perspective. The mind boggles in trying to piece it all together, and yet the characters are described so vividly that you can see the whole thing in your head. The second part is in that same time, only here we read what the main character is doing, back in London. In the forth and final part there is, again, a huge time jump. The first part took place in 1935, the last in 1999. But this is where it all comes together, in one big surprising finale (at least I didn’t expect it and it turned everything around again). In sum, it is a love story, but a beautifully told one, mixed with family intricacies and complex personalities.
2. Paulo Coelho – The Alchemist. I read this when I was rather young, in French, and when I presented it in class my teacher was impressed, because it is a very layered – supposedly very complicated –  book, meant for adults. But I like it just because each time I read it I learn something new. It has a strong cultural background, with Spanish and Arabic / Egyptian legends. It leads us through the spiritual journey of Santiago, a young Spanish shepherd, to fulfill his “Personal Legend”. It’s about hope, faith and fate… I should read it again sometime. It won the Guiness World Record for most translated book by a living author (67 languages), so that might be an argument on it’s own.
3. Dave Eggers – A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. I mean come on, the title alone makes you want to read this, doesn’t it? I’m actually currently reading this, so I won’t write a full commentary just yet, but I will say that the (40 page long!) preface won me over right away. I’ve read nothing like it. To quote Wikipedia: critics praised the book for its wild, vibrant prose, and it was described as “big, daring [and] manic-depressive” by The New York Times.The author jumps from one thing to another, seemingly unrelated, going off on tangents that last pages. I love it, because that’s also how I think, in my head, and how I would like to write – if people would follow. The main character is simply a very likeable guy from my point of view and I can’t wait to see how it turns out.
4. Pierre Choderlos de Laclos - Les Liaisons Dangereuses. Again an intricate love story, again in French, again a classic. I strongly recommend – to anyone – to read this book. It is infinitely better than (any of) the movie(s), although Cruel Intentions was some nice entertainment as well. But ah, the prose! The époque! The decadence of the French aristocracy shortly before the French Revolution! And I love the epistolary style (composed entirely of letters), it really puts you into place. It is often claimed to be the source of the saying “Revenge is a dish best served cold” and has also been described as a vague, amoral story. *sigh* Lovely.
5. Douglas Adams – The Ultimate Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. This anthology is five novels in one. It is sooooo long, but also sooooo funny. I think by now everyone knows the original story of Arthur Dent, and the unmistakable style of Douglas Adams. His writing is witty, playful, almost as hard to follow as that of Eggers – but that’s what makes me laugh. I really have no clue how someone can come up with such stories. They are at the same time way out there and interspersed with totally mundane details. Plus, I actually managed to read the whole 1000+ pages in German.

My opinion on moist regions

“Feuchtgebiete”, the novel of Charlotte Roche I bought about two and a half weeks ago, is really a great book. Just to point that out right of the bat. I was very sceptical about it, since I generally don’t like hyped up things, and because it sounded really gross. And for the most of it, it is. But it convinced me anyway.

Some have said that there’s nothing behind it, that it’s just a summing up of random gross bodily functions, explained in detail. That’s not the point. In fact, I was much less disgusted by it than expected. Then again, I’m not easily shocked by such things, since I have what I think is a healthy relationship to my body, I am a very open-minded person with a strong stomach. And I’m curious, especially about perverted stuff. Why else would I be writing my diploma thesis about the role of certain sexual practices in pain perception? But I digress…

To start off, the first pages are the worst. So if you get through them and are still interested, you’ll be hooked and read the whole 220 pages in a few days, like I did. The rest of the story has more background. The main character, Helen, is 18 and although she seems aware and experienced in the sex department, she still narrates with a certain naivety. I really enjoyed the way this book was written. And it’s not just about the gooey stuff, the icky parts, it’s also about a difficult family background. Apparently, all the women in Helens family go hysterical at some point. So she decides to get sterilised, which theoretically she can do, since she’s 18. But this is one of the most unrealistic parts of the book, because actually modern day medicine doesn’t allow women to decide this for themselves. If they are young and healthy enough to have children, doctors won’t perform the procedure. You can be as convinced as you want, if there is no reason you can’t have children besides the fact that you don’t want to, they think you’ll change your mind eventually. Since it’s not reversible, they won’t do it. Especially not on an 18 year old.

But anyway, the point is that Helen doesn’t get along with her family. She hardly sees her brother. She doesn’t know what to talk about with her father, besides plants and other benign stuff, and doesn’t even know his profession (engineer, as we find out in the end). Her mother once tried to kill herself and the brother, but won’t talk about it, and cut Helens long eyelashes in her sleep because she was jealous. But Helen isn’t really sure of all this, because it’s all blurry in her mind, either because of the circumstances or because of all those drugs she once tried. So you see, it’s not just about the body functions. But a lot of it is.

The main story line fades into the background to make room for the descriptions Helen makes of her hygiene habits, or the lack thereof. Everything is there, from the wax in her ears to the sucking of toes. With an emphasis, of course, in the middle – wetland nr. 1, the private parts. And here is where, in my mind, it gets important. Roche has stated on many occasions that women lack the language to talk about their private body functions or sexual needs, or anything that gets intimate in a less emotionally meant way. For instance, before Helen goes on a date, she sticks a finger in herself to then smell and taste her smegma (yes, that is a word for both men and women). Not that I would actually do it, but doesn’t it make sense to know what you’re asking from a partner if you want him to go down on you? Then again, that would mean that men should try their own sperm in return, and we all know that would never happen. Helen also likes to dip her finger in herself to then dab the smegma behind her ears, instead of perfume. I’ve heard this before, it’s supposed to work miracles in attracting men and arouse them. And frankly, many women try way to hard to cover themselves up in chemicals. I wear perfume myself, but just a little, and I make sure it blends with my personal smell.

I think we would all be freer if we accepted our natural selves. I’m all for hygiene, but in measure. I refuse to give in to the image the media wants women to have – it’s completely sterile and fake. There’s a passage in the book that describes it rather well:

Sagt man doch so: eine gepfelgte Frau. Als wäre das allein schon ein besonderer Wert. In der Schule sagten wir zu solchen Schülerinnen Arzttochter, egal was der Vater arbeitet. Ich weiß nicht, wie die das machen, aber sie sehen immer besser gewaschen aus als die andern. Alles ist sauber und irgendwie behandelt. Jede kleinste Körperstelle wurde mit irgendwas bedacht.

Was diese Frauen aber nicht wissen: Je mehr sie sich um all diese kleinen Stellen kümmern, desto unbeweglicher werden sie. Ihre Haltung wird steif und unsexy, weil sie sich ihre ganze Arbeit nicht kaputt machen wollen.

Gepflegte Frauen haben Haare, Nägel, Lippen, Füße, Gesicht, Haut und Hände gemacht. Gefärbt, verlängert, bemalt, gepeelt, gezupft, rasiert und gecremt.

Sie sitzen steif wie ihr eigenes Gesamtkunstwerk rum, weil sie wissen, wie viel Arbeit darin steckt, und wollen, dass es so lange wie möglich hält.

Solche Frauen traut sich doch keiner durchzuwuscheln und zu ficken.

Now I don’t want to judge – I know a part of that myself. For instance, I wouldn’t stand it if The BF came over and I hadn’t just shaved, to get the smoothest skin possible. And wouldn’t it be great if that held for more than twelve hours. But on the other hand, I have no problem walking around with cut up jeans (not the designer kind), without make-up or blow-dried hair (I have witnesses). I probably don’t own half the products other women find essential and I don’t shower every day. But no one has ever complained that I stink or looked dirty or unkempt in any way.

To warn you: there is also talk about blood and germs. She is in a hospital because of a anal fissure due to ungentle shaving of the area. She has haemorrhoids and gets her period after the operation, so there are bodily fluids of all kinds coming out of practically every opening. And she likes to spread her bacteria. This is another point I don’t agree with, because although shocking tight-assed people (or anal retentive, as I like to call them) might be fun, AIDS and Hepatitis I would take seriously. But she does have funny names for the bits and pieces of her private parts.

To sum up: it’s a very witty book, compelling at times like a gruesome accident you can’t look away from, eye-opening at others. I would definitely recommend it to anyone, although I can image it unsuitable or repulsing for some, especially those who take it too seriously. I would really like to know what a man thinks of this book. So much insight into women’s workings, for once not of the mind. Is it enlightening, or will you be put off for ever? I shall see once I’ve lent it around…

More time! I need more time!

As before posted, I am actually sticking to my work and learn plan. Hence the scarceness of posts this week. I can’t say it’ll get any better in the time to come, because man have I got stuff to do. When I do find time, however, I find it put to slightly better use when I actually get out of the house and spend some time with people – real people – instead of a computer screen.

For instance, Friday night was “girls night out” with me and some friends. We met up for some pre-club drinking and chatting, and then went dancing. Oh, dancing, how I have missed thou. And the loud singing. It’s in moments like this that I realise how important music is to me, that I still know the words to songs years after I’ve last heard them, can recognize them after the first few beats and that bending and shaping and staying alive makes me happy. And I actually held out until 4 a.m., although I thought I would be dead by 11p.m. Fun!

Then yesterday, again, a night out. I am on a roll! I’m not sure what was going on in town, but many stores were open until midnight and bands were playing here and there throughout the city. I sat outside a nice café, strolled around town, and was forced into consuming goods. Well, kind of. Can you imagine that, a boyfriend actually asking his girlfriend if she’d like to shop for something and then she’s all like: nah.

At least that was true until we went to a book store. The only thing on my part that would come closer to the behavior of a child in a candy store would be if we were in a candy store.I love books. I don’t think I could ever have too many of them. And there are just so many of them, when I go in, that seem to say: take me with you! I guess it’s like shoes for other women. Anyway, I could restrain myself to buying just one, although I did find one right before the cash register that was tempting. But the one I bought was making me feel guilty enough. First because it cost more than it should have, and secondly because there’s a hype going on about it. I bought “Feuchtgebiete”, from Charlotte Roche. I’m just too curious. And don’t worry, as soon as I’ve finished the one I’m currently reading, you’ll hear all about it.