how the hell am i going to do that?

Yesterday, I went to the last of Denison's Beck Lecture series, which are a series of talks given by writers from different genres and all walks of life.  What made this lecture so much more important is that it was given by Peter Grandbois, my fiction writing professor from last fall (and a creative writing professor in general).  He just wrote a new book called Nahoonkara, which sounds amazing.  He talked about how he has written fiction, creative non-fiction, flash fiction, novellas, and stage plays.  It was he who said, "If I don't think, 'Now how the hell am I going to do that?' before I start writing, I just don't have any fun."  And currently, I ask myself that question everyday.

Anyway--on to more critiques.  In the past few weeks, I have finished the last two books in the Hunger Games trilogy by Suzanne Collins, The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman, and Chasing Redbird by Sharon Creech.  I recommend all of these.  But let's start with Mockingjay.

I know I have said in previous postings that these are not my favorite books.  They aren't.  But I couldn't put them down.  I read the last one in a day.  What does that mean then?  Well, I have decided it means two things.

1.  My devotion to Harry Potter leaves very little room in my heart for a new series.
1.5.  It is not as good as Harry Potter.
2.  My writer self is getting in the way of my reading self. In other words, reading like a writer is getting in the way of reading like a kid.

So, here are my issues, now that I've finished.  Also, beware there are MAJOR SPOILERS.  STOP READING LOGAN!!!

1. The first book was by far the best one.  It had the best plot, believable twists, and great tension.  The second book... well.  All that happened was they escaped.  They didn't go back into the arena until over halfway through the book and then they were saved rather quickly and without much drama.  And calm down--yes I realize there was a lot of drama in that they were trying to kill each other, but I mean relatively speaking.  They didn't have any problems with the Capital, which I find to be a little hard to believe.  They should have had to fight off some other people.  Making her pass out is a bit of a cop out.

2.  I was more upset for the cat than I was for Prim.  Here is what I think happened--all of this is tied back to the Gale/Peeta issue.  Instead of giving Katniss a decision to make, Collins needed to make it for her.  She made Gale into a heartless war monster who created weapons.  Weapons that most likely destroyed her sister.  Which, again, I am annoyed by, because there should be no debate between Team Peeta and Team Gale.  She tried to do it, but then chickened out.  She didn't want to break his heart.  At least in Twilight, it was Bella's decision.  (And you know I'm super annoyed when a sentence starts "at least in Twilight... I hate those books.)  So, to get her character out of a sticky situation that would actually give more insight into her developed sense of self, she has Gale ruthlessly take down a mountain and trap people inside. Not to mention he is the one that devised the weapon that destroyed her sister.  At the end, there is no possible way she could be with Gale.  Team Gale no longer exists.  It never should have existed in the first place.  But back to my first sentence.  Well, I'll make this another point.

3.  I don't give a flying monkey's ass about Prim.  Don't care about her one iota.  Why?  Because apart from hearing about her from Katniss, we hardly see her.  She is just the mother's helper in the second book.  She has one scene in the third where we get to know more about her.   I understand that killing her off was necessary for Katniss' anger problems to continue, but I really had no other emotion than, "Oh Lord, Katniss is going to lose it."  There was never even any mention of, "But I did it all for her... It all seems pointless now."  Cause that would be a logical reaction.  But no, she had to die so that Katniss could never stay with Gale. Also, I think Collins knew the readers wouldn't care, because what does she do?  She introduces the cat into the picture.  As I said, I'm more sad when the cat is lonely at the end than when Prim dies.  The poor cat.  Not the poor Prim.  The cat is a device.

4.  At the end, when all of the surviving victors are sitting around the table with Coin, Katniss says she wants there to be a last Hunger Games with the powerful people's children.  I honestly do not understand.  She was fighting to get rid of the games.  You don't believe me?  Well, looky here:

"Was it like this then?  Seventy-five years or so ago?  Did a group of people sit around and cast their votes on initiating the Hunger Games?  Was there dissent? Did someone make a case for mercy that was beaten down by the calls for the deaths of the districts' children?  Then scent of Snow's rose curls up into my nose, down into my throat, squeezing it tight with despair.  All those people I loved, dead, and we are discussing the next Hugner Games in an attmept to avoid wasting life.  Nothing has changed.  Nothing will ever change now.
    I weigh my options carefully, think everything through.  Keeping my eyes on the rose, I say, 'I vote yes... for Prim'" (370).

Okay... So.  Here is what I think.  A) It was not a necessary plot twist.  B) It makes zero sense.  It just goes to show that she has learned absolutely nothing from everything that has happened.  I don't care if she wanted revenge and is depressed.  She would NEVER want this revenge on children. Her kid sister just died--why would she want more of that? She's known capital people who she's liked.  She would not want revenge on the children.  For Prim, she'd just want revenge on Snow.  She would not want revenge on children. Of course, she gets revenge on both Snow and Coin.  But she would not have said yes. I would actually LOVE to hear other people's interpretations of why she would want another hunger games, because it actually makes no sense to me.  SHE WOULD NOT WANT REVENGE ON CHILDREN!!

5.  This entire book, Katniss doesn't actually do anything.  And by saying that, I mean that she makes nothing happen.  Sure, she is on TV rallying the troops, but let's be honest--they would have won the war at the exact same time if she were taken out of the story.  Even her fake mission is fruitless, as the real rebels come in and win it without any of their help.  I'm serious.  Re read it.  She does nothing except go on a stupid photoshoot which leads to a fake mission which gets Finnick killed. What?  AND she for some reason is then really blood thirsty and kills a random woman in her home. What?  Let me also point out that she hadn't really done much killing at all.  In the second book, I'm pretty sure she killed no one.  She killed a few in the first book, but it nearly killed her to do that. So how does she all of a sudden shoot a woman in the heart and not feel the slightest amount of guilt or pain?  I will give her that she kills Coin.  That is the one thing that, without her, would not have happened.  I think that Collins spent too much time on the "propos" and not enough time on having her main character drive the narrative of the novel.

6.  Why do they let her off for killing Coin?  Why not have her take the stand and be present for the trial?  Why not give her something to do?  Again, she is just a pawn in the plot, instead of actively defending what she did.  

So those are my major issues.  But, all that said, I couldn't put them down.  They are good books with a strong female protagonist.  Which you all know I like.  And frankly, I cannot wait for the movie--let's be honest, I'm going to like looking at Gale and Peeta, and who knows?  I may even end up on team Gale.  Although it's likely that I'll be on Team High King Peter the Magnificent forever. 

All those books I've read in the past two weeks have something in common.  Death.
Read a book, and death will bring you to life.
Well, look at that.  That was quite profound. Maybe I should write a book.  Now, how the hell am I going to do that?

LR Ogden

my suspicions have been confirmed

The suspicions I am referring to are, of course, that all my favorite children's literature authors not only know each other, but get together for tea parties on a regular basis. It's true. It really must be, as I am excited beyond belief to receive an invitation for said tea party. I would also enjoy going to a British tea party with all my favorite British authors as well, but that is neither here nor there. What is here is The Chronicles of Harris Burdick, a book that my dad bought for me when we went for a very yummy dinner at Easton. (The Northstar Cafe, if you must know, where they give you a free wine tasting as you are waiting in line. A nice effect, as I didn't really want to pay the 14$ a glass for my favorite wine. I got a free taste. Perfect.)

So, if you know me, there is usually an author's name following the name of a book. There is a suspicious lack of author name up there, if you'll notice. This is because this book is a collection of short children's stories by SO MANY GREAT AUTHORS. I will list them for you here, and help you out with what they've written, cause you all probably are not as in sync with the children's literature circle as I am. And no, I am not counting you, mother.

The Chronicles of Harris Burdick is by

Sherman Alexie, who wrote The Absolute True Story of a Part Time Indian, and the movie Smoke Signals (which was adapted from one of his short stories).

M.T. Anderson, who wrote The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing, Traitor to the Nation, volumes I & II, among others. I haven't read these, but I really want to. Here is a link to his website, which is actually pretty cool.

Kate DiCamillo, who wrote Because of Winn-Dixie, The Tale of Despereaux, and The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane. I know I love Because of Winn-Dixie, and The Tale of Despereaux was just turned into a movie. It's on my list of books to read immediately.

Corey Doctorow, who has written nothing I've heard of, but I'm sure he's great.

Jules Feiffer, who 1) is a man, and 2) illustrated The Phantom Tollboth by Norton Juster. Plus, he wrote a book called A Room with a Zoo. Awesome.

Stephen King, who is Stephen King.

Tabitha King, Stephen King's wife. That's right, they're both writers. Damn. How cool would it be to live in their house? Although it may be a tad creepy... Stephen King's novels are a little frightening at times... But still. I bet their bookshrine is awesome.

Lois Lowry, who wrote The Giver, which is one of my favorite books of all time. If you've not read it, READ IT NOW so as to prevent further wreckage of your childhood that is almost over. It's not over yet, you see, if you haven't read this book. Also, I have found out two things: one, they are making a movie of The Giver, which should be pretty cool, and two, there is a third book in The Giver trilogy that I haven't read--WHOA did I just get excited for this. (The second is called Gathering Blue and was published in 2000, seven years after The Giver.) She also wrote the Anastasia Krupnik series.

Gregory Maguire, who's name I'm not sure how to spell because all the letters are always capitalized. How annoying. He is most famous for Wicked. The book that the musical was based on.

Walter Dean Myers, who wrote a bagillion books, but none of which I recognize. But he was mentioned in one of Sharon Creech's novella's, as an author a boy admires. (Sharon Creech wrote Walk Two Moons and Chasing Redbird. We like her.)

Linda Sue Park, who wrote A Single Shard. 

Louis Sachar, who was my favorite author growing up--before even J.K. Rowling. He wrote Wayside School is Falling Down, Sideways Stories from Wayside School, and more importantly, Someday Angeline, Dogs Don't Tell Jokes, and Holes. All amazing books. If you haven't read these--what are you doing? Why are reading my blog??? Go read those books instead. Complete your childhood.

Jon Scieszka, who wrote The Stinky Cheese Man and other Stupid Tales, and The True Story of the Three Little Pigs with Lane Smith. Which, if you remember Logan and Mira, were some of our favorite picture books growing up. At least they were some of my favorite.

And, last but not least, Chris Van Allsburg. He is an author and an illustrator, made famous by little books like, Jumanji, or The Polar Express, or Zathura. And not to mention The Mysteries of Harris Burdick. 

So basically, A LOT of the authors I loved as a child are in this book. Oh, and Lemony Snicket wrote the introduction.

Anyways, on to why this is awesome. This is metafiction, baby. This book is set up with the story presented in The Mysteries of Harris Burdick, which is just a series of images and captions, along with an introduction saying that Harris Burdick dropped these off to an editor, and that he would be back the next day with the complete stories and more pictures. Only he never came back, so all the editor had were these pictures. So what Lemony Snicket presents in his introduction (posted below) is the idea that Harris Burdick has, in fact, been hiding amongst his cohorts and has given his writings to various authors in children's literature to publish as their own. AWESOME.

Why is this awesome? Because Harris Burdick is a fictional character. The drawings are Chris Van Allsburg's (and they are quite beautiful, actually). What this book does is present a mystery in the fictional world that the reader cannot immediately distinguish from the real world. I even had to do some research before I was sure it was all made up. But here's the greatest part: it is a massive conspiracy amongst my favorite authors. I mean, WOW. Seriously, just watch this video--it is amazing.



Also, I have to say, I'm really loving reading short stories for children. You don't see that very often. Generally, children's books are either picture books or chapter books. This is a nice break. I may have to try a few of my own.

Anyways, try and pick up a copy of this book--I've only read three chapters so far (look forward to another blog post once I finish), but I absolutely love it. It's rather interesting to read new work by some of my favorite authors. And it's especially interesting now that I'm 21 and rather critical. I'm telling you--stay posted for my thoughts. Also, I only posted what I think is the most well known of each of the above author's works.  They have all written much, much more.  Google them all, I say!

If I could create my own tea party with anybody I wanted, I would invite J.K Rowling, Marishka Hargitay, Louis Sachar, Lois Lowry, Philip Pullman, Brian Selznick, Eoin Colfer, and hey, why not--High King Peter the Magnificent.

I can't wait for my invitation. I will be invited to the literary teas, and the children's books picnics, and the Young Adult stories brunches.  Just you wait.

L.R. Ogden

a note about narnia

There is a good possibility that I am in love with High King Peter the Magnificent.  Sexy, chivalrous, charismatic, loyal, blond... and he has a great nose.  I'm just saying.  I like his nose.  Now let's move on to literary business.

I know that I've talked about Narnia before on my previous blog (the beloved i will live my life as a lobsterman's wife), but let's talk some more.  While I watch the movie.  And skip all the parts High King Peter the Magnificent isn't in.  In my writing class today, my professor mentioned how the writers of today are being so greatly influenced by cinema.  And I think that is very accurate.  The line between book and screen has been blurred over the past few years.  Just take Harry Potter.  The books and the movies were so closely linked.  I know for a fact that one designer used silver sheets to decorate Grimmauld Place, and J.K. Rowling in later books described the exact fabrics used.  She took something from the set and it made its way into her books.  If that happened with a bit of shiny fabric, I'm sure that other things, like character traits and habits made it in as well.

But that isn't what I'm here to talk about.  That's a whole other can of worms, actually, as that is referring to the cinematic generation of an author's work who is still in the process of writing more material.  Most books that are turned into movies these days have already been written.  But it is true--I think scenes and books in general have become much more action driven.  Scenes are being written as if meant to be on screen.  Just take the Hunger Games.  I will bet any amount of money that Suzanne Collins had the movie playing in her head when she was writing.  She created a very commercialized book that had every aspect of teenage drama imaginable.  The teenagers were quite literally killing each other while being rather hormonal.  Now, I'm not saying this is a bad thing (the commercializing, not the killing--that's not good).  I'm just pointing out how, really, I don't think writing will ever be the same.  Not with our generation surrounded with media of all sorts.  There is no way that we, as writers, can avoid it.  We do need to procrastinate, after all.

Now, on to Narnia.  Sorry, that was a bit of a long sidebar.  Here is something I would like to point out: this book (and the movie) is all about the power of innocence and childhood.  In both The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe and Prince Caspian, all the good guys are either children or animals.  True, the dwarfs in Narnia are technically adults, but they are the size of children and act rather childishly throughout the book.  Even when the Pevensie children "grow up" in TLTWTW, they don't really.  They just run around talking how children think kings and queens should talk, saying things like, "Yes, let's go hither," and other things I cannot remember because I just gave my book to Lena. C.S. Lewis had this thing about life, where he thought that once you grew up, you were damned.  Once you grew up, that was it.  Original sin takes over and well, you might as well just give up, cause you won't make it into heaven.  Susan doesn't, and all she wants is nylons and lipstick.  And probably a boy.  And that really isn't much to ask, now, is it? No.  No it isn't. The message: stay a child forever.

Don't worry, I would get into Narnia.  I have a wall devoted to Harry Potter and rather intense discussions about Narnia and Hogwarts and the Hunger Games and... well.  You get the picture.  Plus, I have discovered that I like that Nickelodeon show, iCarly.

Anyways, it's two thirty and I still have to clean my room for my daddy, who is coming tomorrow!  Hooray!

Being a grown up is for sissies.  Start a Quidditch Team.  Run around campus and scream "For Narnia!" and then growl like a lion.  Reread your favorite children's book.

For Narnia!
-L.R. Ogden

the invention of hugo cabret--and perhaps a new literary genre

I don't know how many of you have heard of this book by Brian Selznick, but it is absolutely wonderful. You should all try and get a copy in the next week and spend a few hours (although it shouldn't take more than two) reading it with a cup of hot tea and perhaps a crumpet. Actually, make that some crepes, as this is set in France. Seriously--I don't care how you get it, just get it. I got my copy by convincing my mother to buy it "for the family." I then stole it and brought it to college where it is on my bookshrine (otherwise known as a bookshelf). And really, I do not think I can part with it, because I am in love.

Why is this book so amazing? you ask. Well, look up there at that title. New literary genre? you say. Pshh. What a load of old tosh. Not so, I say, because what this man has done is integrated words and illustrations in possibly the coolest way I never thought possible. It is not a picture book, par say, as picture books generally have images that correspond to the writing on the page. What Selznick has done is to tell his story half in illustrations and half in words. So here is why I find this so incredibly awesome:

1. What a BRILLIANT way to get kids to read. I know that there are kids out there who can't stand to read and get frustrated when they are forced into reading chapter books--because come on--there are no pictures! And I also know there are kids who try and jump into books that are too long and complicated for them, just so they can boast they've read it as they hold up a book bigger than their head. This books solves both of those problems. Kids who are tentative to start chapter books will LOVE it because so much of it goes by in pictures and they will be encouraged when the pages start to fly by. It creates the illusion that they are fast readers which, even though it might not be true, can only help to boost their confidence as readers. And yes, every kid likes to boast about the longest book they've read, and this book, at over 500 pages, is thicker than almost all of the Harry Potter books. HOLY MOLY.

2. He didn't just write it, he drew it. The illustrations are absolutely phenomenal. It really is amazing how easily and creatively a story can be told with no words, and just pencil drawings. It also shows visually (at least to a person, like me, who is thinking about how to tell a story) how stories begin. We watch the moon set over the glowing city of Paris, then see the sunrise over a Paris train station. We then follow Hugo as he runs through the station, looking behind him to make sure he's not followed. Just from the pictures, we know that he's done this before. We can tell that the old man is suspicious just from a look in his eye. So, just from the images in the beginning, we have discovered the setting, characters, tension, and conflict.

3. The first words in the book are: "From his perch behind the clock, Hugo could see everything." And it comes on page 46. Just from the beginning images, we know how Hugo got to his perch, what he's looking for specifically, and that he has clearly been to this perch before.

Honestly, I cannot rave about this book enough. True, it's mostly because of his use of craft, but the story is pretty great too. Here is one of my favorite quotes (though most of my favorite quotes from this book are pictures):

"As I look out on all of you gathered here, I want to say that I don't see a room full of Parisians in top hats and diamond silk dresses. I don't see bankers and housewives and store clerks. No. I address you all tonight as you truly are: wizards, mermaids, travelers, adventurers, and magicians. You are the true dreamers" (506).

5. They are making it into a movie. Of course they are. While I do think that the movie version will cause it to lose a lot of it's charm (as it is not only his words that they are cutting out, but also his images), this trailer looks fantastic. I have to say, I'm actually excited to see it. Because as much as I will miss the pictures (and the act of reading), I'm pretty sure what he has done in writing and drawing this book is lay out the movie plan (there is a word for this but I cannot, for the life of me, remember what it is). Maybe, then, because he has literally drawn it out, the movie makers will stay true to what is in the book.



How come we don't ever talk about moonset and moonrise? And why is moonset, apparently, not a word?
L.R. Ogden

damn plotholes

Here is what just happened to me:

I was cruising along at about 50 wpm (words per minute), when all of a sudden my tire was completely blown to smithereens and my auto-creativity came to a schreeching, stomach-ache making, terribly sudden stop.  Ladies and gentlemen, I have hit a plothole.  Quite a large one, actually.

Here is the issue that will make sense to almost no one:

Charlotte's family knows where she is.  In my head, that worked because they had collaborated with Emmilina's family and looked at their credit card bill, noticing that they were on this train.  Only Emmilina's family cannot yet know that they are gone, as the police have only Charlotte's picture.  Conundrum.  And, of course, my story is technically due in.. one hour and seven minutes.  And probably less by the time I finish this post.

So HOW DO CHARLOTTE'S PARENTS FIND HER?  Without the help of the Maqueri's?  Can I just go on and deal with this later?  Like have them have noticed that she had been talking about Montana a lot? Ohhh struggles...

So, I think I will just deal with it later.  God I am tired.  Tune in later for some great butterbeer/pumpkin juice/firewhisky recipes.  They were all very good.

I used to LOVE broccoli with ketchup,
L.R. Ogden

that mystical mythical land

Honestly, I feel like I have grown up so much in the past few weeks.  Yes, yes--I grew up so much when I was abroad, but that was a growing up of a different kind.  Rather like maturing.  This growing up I've done in the past few weeks is that kind where I realize HOLY SHIT what I am going to do with the rest of my life?

Here is my conundrum: ever since I was in kindergarten, there has always been that "life after college" idea looming over my head.  "Oh yeah," I'd say, "aftercollege I'm going to become a teacher and get married and have kids." Or "aftercollege I'm going to travel the world." Or, "aftercollege I'm going to ride a bike from California to New York and go to all the ice cream stores and then write a book about it."  (Because wouldn't that be awesome?!?)  But here's the thing--"aftercollege" was never really a real thing.  It was just a mystical, mythical far off land that was filled with whimsy and wonder and paychecks and a lot more job opportunities than there seem to be...

Aftercollege was supposed to be simple.  It was supposed to happen naturally. Instead, I'm finding that the land is coming towards me at an alarming pace.  It's no longer a country, but an asteroid that is hurtling towards me and will undoubtedly hit me on the head in a very painful way.  I'm already getting the little hail stones, in the form of, "What are you doing after college?" and "What are your plans for May?"  The worst is when someone my own age or younger asks, because then all I want to say is "I don't F***en know--what are you doing, smarty pants?"  Only then it's bad if they have an actual answer, at which point I feel even stupider.

I don't want to seem, however, like I am complaining about the fact that I will graduate. I'm excited to graduate (another word that for some reason still has little meaning to me).  I will find a job, or I will write a novel.  I'll be fine, no worries.  So long as I finish this essay that I'm only halfway done with... that's due in about seven hours... Oy.

But anyways, I should mention something about literature, or something, no?  I feel something is amiss when I do not.  So, let's talk about American Literature, just for a second, because I really do need to write an essay.  On the use of sex as a device to break down binaries in Toni Morrison's Sula, if you must know.  Yeah.  That's right.  It's legit.

So, I have realized in the recent past (namely the past six months that I spent in England), that I like British literature so much better than American literature.  Don't get me wrong--I love a good reading of Ramona Quimby, Age 8, and anything written by Louis Sachar or Lois Lowry or To Kill a Mockingbird.  Yes, there is a long list.  But it does not compare to the list I have of favorite books by English authors.  England has Harry Potter, we have Twilight.  England has His Dark Materials, and we have The Hunger Games.  Bummer.

But, I think I need to start reading some good old American Literature. And I refuse, steadfastly refuse, to start with Emerson or Thoreau, because as blasphemous as it is for an English major to say this--they have put me to sleep every time I try to open their writings.  Every time.  I need to reread The Great Gatsby, I need to read The Grapes of Wrath (sidenote: did you know this was a first draft? As in a rough draft? WOW and I haven't even read it yet).  I need to do some reading.  Also, I need to do some writing.  So I'll pick this up again later.

I have an irrational fear of foam,
L.R. Ogden

you know you're an english major when...

you open up a new document in word and it says, "document 13."
you procrastinate writing with doing other writing.
you no longer think forty pages is very long.
you start to talk about your characters like they are real people.
you are awake at 4:30 am three nights in a row, listening to adele and the sound of typing.
you decide that instead of researching for a senior seminar paper, you will write a blog post on the faults of the latest Harry Potter movie.

So, in an effort to prove to you that yes, I am an English major, let's talk about the Harry Potter movie.  Keep in mind I have only seen this once (yes I know I am very surprised too).  But here you go.

The movie was great--the dragon was fabulous, watching Helena Bonham Carter play Hermione was awesome, and let's be honest, Snape's death scene will definitely stay with me for a very long time.

But.

Here's the thing: they got the ending all wrong.  And yes, I am the first one in line to calm every book obsessed person down and tell them the movies and the books are completely separate entities.  They are going to be different, so we should just enjoy the movies without comparing them too harshly to the books. Nothing could be better than those books, ever.  There was really no hope.  But when they mess up the theme and central idea of the book, this is when I have to put my foot down.  Here are my issues:

Why on earth would Harry have gone up to Hermione and Ron and say, "Hey guys, sorry, but I've got to kick it, nice knowing you."  And then WHY would Hermione say, "I thought it might come to this.  Go on ahead, it's been real" and Ron just stare at him stupidly?  NEVER WOULD THIS HAVE HAPPENED.  Their love for Harry would have overcome their need to defeat Voldemort and they would have tried everything in their power to stop him. 

Neville was an actual hero in the books, and it seemed he was just in the right place in the right time in the movies.  Harry didn't tell him to kill the snake, he just killed it before it ate Ron and Hermione.  And yes, I'll be honest, I did feel rather more attracted to Neville than usual after that, but a huge part of why that was so impressive was because it played a more central role in the books.  He pulls out the sword cause he's Neville and he's snitchin'.  (You see, that is a play on the word bitchin...)  He then does what he knows needs to be done.  Yes, his act was still heroic, but he wasn't able to be appreciated by the crowd as a whole.  Also, his speech would not have been permitted by Voldemort.  Voldemort would have smacked a snitch before letting him rally the troops.  Though movie Voldemort was doing some pretty sketch things anyways, as he won the award when he gave Draco the world's most awkward hug ever.  And I'm including the hug/kiss between Michael Scott and Oscar from The Office.  So you know I mean business.

Harry's whole talk with Dumbledore in the station was all about how love will prevail, violence is not the answer, Harry will survive because of the love he has for his friends, and his friends will survive because Harry gave his life for them. Sacrifice for love and the effect that can have on people plays a huge role in the climax of the books.  Voldemort is effectively killed by his own spell, not by Harry's, and his death belongs to everyone, not just to Harry.  Everyone is there to celebrate and mourn and be relieved.  Everyone earned it. Everyone fought for it.  So I say again, Dumbledore just lectured Harry on the importance of love and the ineffectiveness of violence. So what, then, does Harry do upon returning to the mortal world?

That's right, he has a fist fight with Voldemort.  Nice, Warner Brothers.

Now, I say again, I understand that it is a movie and needs to be action packed and be cinematically impressive.  There definitely were enough special effects to impress me.  So that's fine.  Harry can have a fist fight with Voldemort, whatever.  I'll accept it.  But they needed to then end up in the great hall so they could have that scene where they circle each other and do some talking. These are books.  Both physically and metaphysically, the story is about the importance of words and feelings.  About how strength comes not from casting a spell but from friendship and love and acceptance and intelligence and brother(and sister)hood.  The climax of the series should not have been messed with.  I'm not entirely sure why it was.

Instead, Harry is all on his own when he kills Voldemort. This is just not correct.  Harry is not alone, nor is it his fight alone. Sure, he was the "chosen one," but everyone else was fighting just as hard.  There needed to be a sense of togetherness, a sense that it was bigger than just Harry, because it so was. But instead, Voldemort dies, and that's that. Harry then walks through the great hall, and all the people are just like, "oh hey harry, I hear you've killed Voldemort.  Well done, see you later."  Notice the lack of exclamation points.  There was no swell of emotion, no feeling that YES OMG HE'S FINALLY DEAD WE DID IT BUTTERBEERS ALL AROUND!  And yes, I realize that so many people died, but they have just won the war.  There would be more hugging.  Instead of a climax, it just ends.  He never vindicates Snape to the whole crowd, never explains anything to the room at large.

And why, oh why, would you ever leave out dialouge and tension that is this good?  If you are not interested in reading a section of the last pages, stop reading now.

"'Yeah, [Dumbledore's plan backfired], it did,' said Harry.  'You're right.  But before you try to kill me, I'd advise you to think about what you've done.... Think, and try for some remorse, Riddle....'
     'What is this?'
     Of all the things Harry had said to him, beyond any revelation or taunt, nothing had shocked Voldemort like this. Harry saw his pupils contract to think slits, saw the skin around his eyes whiten.
     'It's your one last chance,' saod Harry, 'it's all you've got left.... I've seen what you'll be otherwise.... Be a man... try... Try for some remorse....'
     'You dare--?' said Voldemort again.
     'Yes I dare,' said Harry, "because Dumbledore's last plan hasn't backfired on me at all.  It's backfired on you, Riddle.'
     Voldemort's hand was trembling on the Elder Wand, and Harry gripped Draco's very tightly.  The moment, he knew, was seconds away" (741-742).

This entire scene is absolutely amazing, right down to when Harry "saw the Elder Wand fly high, dark against the sunrise, spinning across the enchanted ceiling like the head of Nagini," and "the tumult broke around Harry as the screams and the cheers and the roars of the watchers rent the air.  The fierce new sun dazzled the windows as they thundered toward him" and he "could not hear a word that anyone was shouting, nor tell whose hands were seizing him, pulling him, trying to hug some part of him, hundreds of them pressing in, all of the determined to touch the Boy Who Lived, the reason it was over at last" (744). 

You see?  Why mess with that ending?  No idea, I just have no idea...

Lena, you'll still read the books someday, even though you know the ending, because it's so much more about the how than the what.

I once met a guy who told me his name was "George.  No wait, Tony,"
L.R. Ogden

what kind of writer do i want to be?

That is the question of the week.  Or rather, the semester.  Here are a few things I have been learning recently, both in class and out:

1. An author knows exactly how many pages are in each chapter.  And by god if one chapter rambles on too long, they know about it. And if they are like me, it annoys them half to death.

2. Sitting down and writing a novel sounds a lot more fun when studying for an environmental test is the alternative.  Also, blogposts tend to generate around that same time... I wonder why this is... Damn you biweekly quizzes!

3. You cannot ask a group of creative writing majors what their favorite book is and why, and get a simple answer.  When asked in class, the five of us said things like, "I like so and so book because it really shows the growth of the character and it is very suspenseful and I really like that it was told from this point of view because it showed rather than told..."  You know, things like that.  I even said my favorite was Harry Potter because I liked how it empowered children and young adults and some other BS like that (although that is true--I do like it for that reason).  But really, think about this: what is your favorite book and why do you like it?  Really think about this for a moment.  Then see number ten.

4.  You cannot fool your subconscious. If you are trying to write a story about a chocolate monster but keep on going back to the relationship the main character had with his mother, your story will not end up being about the chocolate monster.  The chocolate monster will become a device that pushes your main character into a realization about his mommy issues and then all of a sudden, your book is an Oedipal story rather than a thriller.

5.  Speaking of Oedipus, imagine this:  Oedipus on the Jerry Springer show.  Okay, hold on, I'll explain.  This is actually about originality--betcha didn't see that one coming.  There is actually very little "original" work that is being created today.  Most everything has been done before--what hasn't been done is the how, the character, and the reaction.  You see, Oedipus wasn't even new for the Greeks.  They saw it knowing that Oedipus kills his father and sleeps with his mother.  They went to see the reaction.  They went because, let's face it, you feel god damned superior when you know something a character doesn't.  You feel like a god.  This is why it works.  Because the readers have to know everything.  The characters don't have to know shit (I swear this is a direct quote from my advisor).  So, back to Jerry Springer.  You had better believe that you would be glued to the set if you saw Oedipus up there with "Slept with his mother and killed his father--doesn't know it yet" under his picture.  You would wait around for his reaction.  To see how this is going to resolve itself.

6.  Everybody dies.  Shocker.  But what this means is, there really aren't any happy endings.  Every story will end this way (unless of course it is fantasy and immortality is involved, but that's a different story and frankly I don't feel like getting into it because I have to study for environmental and it's almost one am).  Which just goes to show you that you read books for the middle.  You read them for the journey.  So go ahead--read the end of the book before you start.  You're still gonna read it.  Cause most of us want to know why so much more than we want to know what.

7.  Epiphanies don't happen in real life.  There is no moment when you have a moment of psychological clarity where everything changes.  Unless, of course, you are Buddha (and even he had to work for it over a long period of time).

8.  I realized that the stories I personally love are the stories that create suspense, dynamic characters, a believable and consistent voice, and great worlds in themselves.  And I realized that most of my absolute favorite books all have inadvertent heroes. Harry Potter, Katniss Everdeen (god I still hate her name...), a lot of Tamora Pierce's characters, The Pevensie children, Frodo, Lyra and Will--none of these children set out to be heroes (or even wanted to be).  Although, okay, Edmund might have started out that way, but he was reformed. But all these characters rose to the challenge.  They made the best of the time that was given to them, as Gandalf would say.  Perhaps why I like these books so much is because it allows all children to feel empowered, as all those characters were once regular joes too. Or maybe it's because I like the idea that greatness is most potent when it is thrust upon someone, rather than searched for for a lifetime.

9.  I have over forty pages of writing now, and I'm heading into new territory.  Bizarre for two reasons: first, I have no idea what I'm doing anymore--I'm just writing so I get everything out now, and second because I am perfectly aware that I will have to rewrite just about forty pages of what I've already written eventually.  Because I'm learning just how much better you get to know your characters the farther you get into a book.  I just had a day long sit down with one of my characters and killed her father.  Clearly she is not too happy with me.

10.  The characters.  This is why you love books.  You love Harry Potter because of, you got it, Harry Potter.  And Sirius, and Ron, and Hermione, and all the Weasleys.  You love Lord of the Rings because Gandalf is a badass (probably you don't love it because of Frodo though, because let's face it--he's super annoying).  You love The Chronicles of Narnia because of the Pevensies.  And specifically High King Peter the Magnificent, if you are anything like me.  Which brings me to an immediate realization: OMG do I actually like Katniss Everdeen?  I must, because I have to say, these books are growing on me.

But (damn now I can't stop--I really have to study!) I have figured out some of the reasons why I am having trouble with the Hunger Games.  Apart from the whole terrible name thing, I mean (also--Brutus?  Really?  Couldn't we be a little more original? Or clever--I know I just said originality almost doesn't exist...).  It's because Suzanne Collins is playing up the Gale/Peeta debate so hardcore.  I mean it is absolutely ridiculous, seeing as Gale has been in the books for a grand total of about ten pages.  Sure, she thinks about him a lot, but he has not been physically present for the entirety of the two books I've read, save maybe four scenes.

So here are my thoughts: it's fine that she wants to do this whole boy team thing--but she could have waited until the third book to bring Gale into the picture.  Because really, a sixteen year old girl who has just lived through an experience like the Hunger Games would fall head over heels in love with not only the only available person who has had the same experience, but also the boy who saved her life and would have given his for hers.  There is no question.  Seriously, put yourself in this position, add a really attractive boy (or girl) and try to imagine a world in which you would then immediately decide you need to get the hell away from this person so they don't marry you.  YOU WOULD BE ATTACHED AT THE HIP PEOPLE! There would be none of this wishy-washy will-they-won't-they mamby-pamby shit.  At least initially.  It would have been so much better, at least in my mind, if she waited to fall for Gale until they were alone in the third one, because the guilt element would be so much stronger and create a MUCH bigger conflict.  Read them, and you will know what I'm talking about.

Anyway, that said, I do really like these books.  Read them.  Read anything.  Go see a play.  Write down what you did today.  Add a swear word (cause apparently I'm all afuckingbout that tonight)--whoops, sorry mother. 

What type of writer do you want to be?

I want to be the published kind.

I'll name my dog High King Peter the Magnificent, but call him Maggie,
L.R. Ogden

the writing games

Lately, I have been reading Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison and The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins.  Pretty grim stuff.  And, as I don't want to get into Toni Morrison at the moment (we do enough of this in class) let's talk about The Hunger Games.

I read the first one a while ago, and I have to say, I was not that excited to continue.  Yes, I think the story is great and OMG who will she choose--Gale or Peta?  (Peta, of course, he's had much more screen time, and I'm already halfway through the second and all Gale has done has been to get injured...).  And yes, Suzanne Collins has done one of my favorite things and written a strong female character.  Don't get me wrong, I much prefer Katniss Everdeen to Bella Swan.  Here, then, are my issues:

1.  Why, when you have all the letters of the English language and an infinite number of ways to arrange them, would you name a character Katniss?  Change but one letter, and it's Katpiss.  Please.  Yes, this is a petty thing and really has nothing to do with anything at all, but I mean, come on.  Names don't have to be pretty, but do we need to rhyme them with cat piss?  Especially when they are a strong, main, female character?

2.  Which brings me to my second point--Katniss Everdeen is as much an impossible character as Bella Swan.  True, the situation she is in does not call for your everyday character, but she takes the butt-kicking philosophy to an extreme.  While Bella Swan is a character who everyone can relate to (because let's be honest, Bella is a shell of a character who each reader fills), Katniss Everdeen is a character who almost no one can relate to.  She's harsh to a fault and for some reason, does not fall in love with the boy who saved her life and would have given his for hers.  Because let's be real--girls who are raped, or who are almost murdered, or who have real problems, latch on to that first comforting person, the person who saves them.  Anyone ever seen SVU?

And I'm not just saying this because I'm on team Peeta.  Frankly, I'm on team Gale, mostly because I like his name better.  But really, Gale doesn't have a chance in hell, at least not for a very long time.  Or he shouldn't.

Which brings me to my last point:
3.  The Hunger Games has been commercialized to the point where I can't stand it.  I absolutely love the idea, and it has been very successful, but I can just see how she planned it out, desperately wanting people to have Team Gale or Team Peeta shirts, just like they had for Twilight.  Just wait till the movies come out...

BUT, let me say, that I would MUCH rather have young girls read this book, where she kicks ass and can fend for herself and many others, than have them read Twilight.  So maybe my real problem with it is that her characters aren't so relateable.  Also, I could very easily do counterarguments for all that I'm saying here, like what on earth does it matter if it's commercial, if it gets kids to read?  Especially if it gets young girls to read and feel empowered.  I just really want people to read it, I guess, and the problems I have are all reasons I feel kids wouldn't want to pick it up.  Well, apart from the Team Peeta/ Gale thing, that's a personal pet peeve.  Kids eat that shit up.

So there you have it.  Keep in mind I'm only about halfway through the second one (and I still have to finish Song of Solomon by Friday), so I'll keep you posted.  Now, on to some more writerly things, because who doesn't want to know writerly things?  And by writerly things I mean I'm going to write and not think and you're going to like it. SO there.

I have had two diet root beers today, and half a slab of swiss cheese.  The remnants are still sitting sadly on the stand we call our coffee table.  But really, it's more of a glorified box covered in faux marble.  If we can even call it that.  Maybe I will just call it cube.

Here's a question: if you were to die and be cremated, where would you put your ashes?  I mean, assuming you weren't going to just be sitting on a shelf.  Where would you scatter yourself?  In one place, or across the world?  Here is my list, because I've thought about this extensively.  Calm down, I've not been thinking of it in a morbid way, more in a recognizing my own mortality way.  So, in one hundred years, when I become ashes, I will be spread in:

Lincoln Park. A bit in the front yard of 2634, a bit thrown from the top of St. Clements, and a bit in the park next to Dad's office.

Chicago. Just throw a bit of me off the Sears Tower, making sure you remember it is the Sears tower.  If you even think Willis Tower, I will haunt you forever.  And alright, some by Ignatius as well. 

River Forest.  In our backyard.

The Cottage.  You could probably leave the urn there.  But not near the kitty graves.  I don't think one hundred years will be enough for noel to forget me...

Montana.  A little in Missoula and little by the Cabin.

Ohio.  Denison, over on East Quad, so I can haunt the drunk people. 

Paris. In the park by the Pompidou.  And a bit in Lyon.  This will be a fun trip.

Kortula, Croatia.  Throw a bit off that cliff we jumped from...  

Bath.  Hell, throw me in there with the other ghosts of Linley.  And by the Abbey, and by the Royal Crescent.  And, most importantly, in front of Ben's Cookies.

London.  Trafalgar Square.  And the park by the eye.

So really, this exercise is synonymous with the places that have meant the most to me.  Probably that would have been less morbid.  But hey, can I help it if this is what I think about when I'm not paying attention in Environmental?  Absolutely not. 

Anyways, I have been learning a lot in my creative writing class, but I'm not going to tell you what.  Because frankly, I'm not giving up my secrets that easily...

Alright, I have wasted a sufficient amount of time now, and I will head to bed.  Email me if you want to read the first chapter of my NOVEL. Because that's happening. I'm thirty pages in... and they've barely left the station. If they have ten times the adventure they've had (which isn't much..) this will be a three hundred page book.  Holy shit.  What a bizarre thing this is... If only I didn't have three other classes to deal with... bleh.

good talking to you.
write something.  read something. learn something. don't be melodramatic.  don't write short sentences.
L.R. Ogden

books, time, and silence

Hello again, blogosphere.  It feels good to be back.  Weird to be in a new setting though.  Whereas before, I lounged in the sitting room of Linley, listening to the purr of the pigeons and the chiming bells of the abbey, I now am sitting on my very old couch, staring around at the still blank walls that line our apartment.  Secretly, I have named our apartment The Burrow.  Yes, this is a shoutout to Harry Potter, but it's also because the word "Burrow" has such warm and cuddly connotations. You saw burrow, I think bunny.  You say bunny, I think snuggling.  I think snuggling, and then I'm happy. So there you have it.

Have you ever tried playing with words?  Take the name of your hometown. Write it down, and stare at it. Chicago.  Chicago.  Chicago.  Cago. Chica, go. Chi ca go. Chic. Ago. Has it lost it's meaning yet?  It's weird--mainly because I just wrote Chicago in my senior writing project story, and it looked strange to me. Perhaps because I haven't really been living in Chicago for eight months now, but just writing it made me realize that its meaning has changed slightly. Yes, it will always be home, but somehow it doesn't feel quite so singular anymore.  Or maybe it just feels farther away.  Still, when I write it, I think of Lincoln Park, and late summer nights in the alleyways, and running to school, and Halloween on Burling, and River Forest, and  train rides into the city when I raced the sun, and endless nights spent staring at the skyline that is even better than stars. I think of warmth and love and happiness.  But now I can't help but think that there is another home for me, out there somewhere.  Because what's different about what I think about when I write Chicago, is that I'm not thinking of the future.  I'm thinking of the past.  A great past, but a past nonetheless.  Bath, on the other hand, seems to be my present, and traveling will hopefully be my future. Future.  That is a word that scares the shit out of me.  So I won't think about it, for the moment.  For the moment, we'll deal with what's most important: books, time, and silence.

Right now, I am reading a book called, My Name is Mina and I Love the Night.  Anything Seems Possible at Night When the Rest of the World has Gone to Sleep by David Almond.  Actually, I'm pretty sure that it's just called My Name is Mina, but the rest is on the cover as well.  David Almond is quickly becoming one of my favorite authors.  He writes in the magical realism genre, telling stories about little boys who find angels, or little girls with imaginations so vivid that they mesh flawlessly with the real world.  He is truly astounding.

Over the summer, Mike, my Senior Writing Project advisor, asked us to email him some books we thought he should read.  Books that would help him understand what influenced us.  Honestly, I surprised myself with my choice, and I think that simple task helped me to better understand my own writing.  Of course, I did think first of Harry Potter, but when emailing a creative writing professor, it's usually best to stay away from the mainstream.  So I instead chose Skellig by David Almond and The Giver by Lois Lowry.  Both these books have a little magic.  Both these books deal with growing up.  And both these books, interestingly, deal in large part with the protection of a baby.  Jonas with the baby Gabriel, and Michael with his little baby sister.  Why am I drawn to these books that contain a bit of magic, a bit of sadness, but a lot of hope?  Maybe I'll find out at some point this year.

Anyways, because I actually got out some stickies and marked several passages from this book (which you should all read, because it is absolutely fantastic), I'll write down a few select paragraphs.  But first, let me explain something.  This book is in the form of a diary, a nine year old's diary.  Throughout the book, she has different sidenotes, "extraordinary facts," and "extraordinary activities," that she writes in bold letters and puts in boxes.  Good grief, I am definitely going to have my fifth graders read this book when I become a teacher.

"Extraordinary Fact!  There are as many people alive in the world today as there have been in the whole of human history!"  Mina, at this point, decides that heaven, then, needs to only be about as big as the earth, if all the souls were to live there. Then she goes on to say, "These days, though, I don't believe any of that. I think that the idea of Heaven is silly for other reasons.  When people try to say what Heaven is like, it just sounds deadly deadly deadly dull.  Standing around singing and eating nectar or something and looking at God and praising Him and being very very very good.  Imagine that!  YAWN YAWN YAWN YAWN!  Who'd want to do that for century after century after century?  ... I bet that even the angels get fed up with it all.  I bet they want to eat bananas and marmalade and chocolate, and to look at things like clouds of flies, and to climb trees or to play with cats.  I bet they look at us and envy us for being human. I bet that somethimes they even want to be like us.  Except they might get put off by the fact that we die.
       Anyway, in the end, I don't really believe in Heaven at all, and I don't believe in perfect angels.  I think that this might be the only Heaven there can possibly be, the world we live in now, but we haven't quite realized it yet.  And I think that the only possible angels might be us.  THIS MIGHT BE HEAVEN! WE MIGHT BE LIVING IN HEAVEN RIGHT NOW! AND WE MIGHT BE THE ANGELS!
       Is that stupid? No, it's not!  Look at the blackbird, the way the sunlight glistens on it.  Look at the way it shimmers, the way its blackness glints with silver, purple, green, and even white beneath the sun.  Listen to its song.  Look at the way it jumps into the sky.  Look how the leaves are coming out from the buds.  Feel how strong the tree is and feel the beat of my heart and the sun on my skin and the air on my cheek.  Think of the things like the human voice, the solar system, the fur of a cat, the sea, bananas, a duck-billed platypus.  Look at the things that we've made: houses and pavements and walls and steeples and roads and cars and songs and poems, and yes I know that it's a long long way from being perfect.  But perfection would be very dull and perfection isn't the point.
      !PERFECTION IS BORING!  !PERFECTION IS EMPTY! !PERFECTION IS NOTHINGNESS!
      Look at the world.  Smell it, taste it, listen to it, feel it, look at it.  Look at it!  And I know horrible things happen for no good reason.  Why did my dad die?  What the point of famine and fear and darkness and war?  I don't know! I'm just a kid!  How can I know answers to things like that?  But this horrible world is so blooming beautiful and so blooming weird that sometimes I think it'll make me faint!
       JUST LOOK AT THE MINDBLOWING LIPSMACKING WONDERFUL AMAZING BEAUTIFUL STUNNING MARVELLOUS GORGEOUS LOVELY LOVELINESS OF OUR WORLD!"

Literally, he blows my mind.  SUCH GREAT WRITING.  And just the kind that I love.  This girl tries to do things like write a story where nothing happens, only she realizes she can't do that because even a blank piece of paper is filled with possibilities, so it "really isn't empty at all."  She writes about extraordinary activities, like writing as many words for happiness as you can, and as many words for sadness.  She says that "Writing is like taking some words for a walk."  Honestly, how can you not love it?

Anyway, David Almond is really good at writing the voice of a nine year old girl.  And yes, some of the things he does are a little hokey, I'll admit, but I kind of like it.  Cause really, who wasn't a little hokey when they were nine?

So, onto other things.  As my last blog--the blog that can be seen here--was called "I Will Live my Life as a Lobsterman's Wife," I thought it would be fitting to stay with a sea theme.  And, as luck would have it, that quote up there is one of my absolute favorites.  It comes from a poem by e.e. cummings called Maggie and Millie and Mollie and May.

maggie and milly and molly and may
went down to the beach (to play one day)
and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles, and
milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;
and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and
may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.
For whatever we lose (like a you or a me)
it's always ourselves we find in the sea

-e.e. cummings

And there you have it.  The poem that gets me through a lot of life.  And yes, I had the absolute time of my life when I was abroad.  The best six months in the history of study abroad, I'd say. Which is why I need to start fresh.  Also, I can't look at my other blog without wishing more than anything that I could once again be sitting in my lovely Linley chatting with Martha, or getting ready to go to Ben's Cookies. It's a bit like starting over, coming back to Denison.  I changed so much while I was abroad, and it feels like part of that person has been left behind in Bath.  So I need to work on finding my new more mature and self-assured self a place at Denison.  Cause whatever we lose (like a you or a me) it's always ourselves we find in the sea.

Write a poem,

L.R. Ogden

PS: A conversation between Mina and her mother: "'When you grow up,' I said, 'do you ever stop feeling little and weak?'  'No,' she (Mina's mother) says, 'There's always a little frail and tiny thing inside, no matter how grown-up you are.' 'Like a baby?' I say.  'Yes, or like a tiny bird, right at the heart of you,' she says.  'It's not really weak at all.  If we forget it's there, we're in deep trouble.'"