Bandit Book Corner-Anansi Boys

Growing up as an only child I learned the value of quiet time. I still consider my aptitude for entertaining myself when all is quiet and lonely one of my best qualities. I can hardly imagine myself without the constant need for something long and juicy curled up with me in bed. NO you pervert. I am talking about a good book. Books are my constant companions. I think it is an important part of my personal culture to have something to sink my mind into, as I was always around parents who love to read enlightening literature.

I was one of those kids who bragged about their reading level. "Well I read at an EIGHTH grade level. I'm only SEVEN." I was a total nerd, and I learned early on the types of books I did and did not like to read. I loved Watership Down, I hated Gulliver's Travels. Of course I was only ten when I read it, but ever since then I have never had a stomach for that old type of flowery high English. Beautiful language, yes. But language for the sake of language that does not actually give anything to the story, no thank you. Jane Austen, you were a woman ahead of your time, but I will watch the movies rather than sit through your books. Sorry folks.

So I have decided, as it is an important part of my culture, to share my likes and dislikes in books. Over the last year I have read upwards of twenty books, I think, so this will be one of those things that comes in installments whenever I feel like it. Also, if after reading these reviews, any of you have book suggestions that I should read, please please please post them. I am always looking for something new, and the best books I read come from recommendations.

In this post I will only review one book, because I gave such a large preface.

Anansi Boys, by Neil Gaiman
I love Neil Gaiman. He is just one of those authors, that always has something new and bizarre to write about and he sucks you in and doesn't let you go until you have been thoroughly satisfied by what could have been a horrible experience. A great storyteller, he always adds depth to his characters as well as his scenarios, with description and hilarious asides that make you perfectly aware that he is a true puppet master, rather than a writer who has been strung up by his characters. That said, I was hesitant to read Anansi Boys, as it turns out. Anansi Boys is a sequel to one of the best books I have ever read, American Gods. I wasn't sure that I would be able to stomach a sequel to a story that seemed perfectly resolved, so I put off reading it for a good long while. It sat on my shelf until I had nothing else to read.

When I finally picked it up, I was thrust into a story that truly had nothing to do with the previous book besides that one of the characters was common to both stories, and for this I was very grateful. It is a tale of the possibilities that arise when a man is born mortal to a little known god, Anansi. Anansi, is a trickster god, often portrayed as a spider, who loves nothing better than a good practical joke. His son, Fat Charlie, who is not fat at all, has the opposite qualities to his father, and he feels a great disdain about having ever been born to such an embarassing person. He distances himself from his father for many years until he learns by accident one night that his father has died.

Forced to go back home for the funeral, he learns that he had a brother (aptly named Spider) that was sent away in early childhood, and he tries to reconnect with him. He soon finds that his brother has all of the traits that Fat Charlie lacks, and realizes that Spider is the god that Fat Charlie will never be. He is from that point constantly haunted by the tricks and influences of Spider and is driven to the point of near insanity. Finally when it seems that the camel's back will soon be broken, Fat Charlie finds his way, and realizes that he has some worth. The adventures that the two brothers find themselves in are fantastical, and full of spice, and it is such a thrill following the misguided troubles that befall this disfunctional family. Expect a happy ending, but be patient because it will all seem to be lost before it can be gloriously regained and celebrated.

I highly recommend this book to those of you that enjoy reading fantasy, but don't want something that was strictly written for "young adults." That is the case with all of my favorite books by Neil Gaiman, though he does write a good deal of excellent children's books as well. The fantasy in this book is not your average bout of sorcery, and is shrouded in legend originally brought from Africa, which is a refreshing change from all the fantasy that preceded and followed in the footsteps of Harry Potter. Don't get me wrong. Loves the HP (Harry Potter, not Hewlitt Packard), but there is more to the human imagination, and it is nice to see it printed and well executed.

P.S. Though I highly highly (highly?) recommend American Gods, it is not necessary to read it before delving into Anansi Boys. Yes you should read it, but if the story of Anansi Boys interests you, go for it. American Gods shares absolutely no plot points with Anansi Boys. It only shares Anansi, and deftly so.

We Were All Children Once

I am always a little disheartened to meet people my age who tell me they hate children. Perhaps disheartened isn't the word. Confused is more like it...

How can a person hate an entire facet of every society. Every type of person from every country, every type of family, rich, poor, black, white, etc, was once a child. So that means that they are basically deciding to hate an aspect of themselves. Though upon reflection, it seems unlikely that these child-haters, hated themselves when they were young. On the contrary, they probably thought they were the coolest thing since Disco.

Allow me to list the pros and cons of children beginning with the cons:

Children are

• noisy
• smelly
• demanding
• selfish
• expensive
• stupid
• small

Now the pros:

Children are

• funny
• cute
• fascinating
• naive
• always eager to learn
• care free
• small

I understand that there are things about children that are sometimes hard to deal with, but let's face it, they technically are people. So I beseech the self professed child-haters to explain to me why they think it is actually appropriate to hate someone because they are underdeveloped. That's really all it is. Because these people don't necessarily hate normal sized people. That is usually a case-by-case thing.

By justifying the cons, the pros actually start to make sense. Let's observe:

• A noisy child, often times just needs attention. Why, does this child need attention? Is it because it is completely self centered and wants to make your life a living hell? No. Usually it needs something simple like food, sleep, or stimulation. A hungry, tired, and bored child is a hard to deal with child. But not one that is worthy of hating.
• A smelly child needs to wash its hands, take a bath, or change its clothes. The hard part of that is that children need help doing all of these things. So it is really the adult's fault, and any irritation should be directed to them.
  
• A demanding child is usually either spoiled or seriously ignored. Either one is the fault of the adults around it. If you, child-hater, happen to be around a child demanding attention, you might try granting it some. See how it responds.
• A selfish child has not yet been taught about sharing/giving. Either that or it is shy. Either way the skill has not yet been gained and the only thing that can be blamed here is the fact that it is not an adult. BTW there are TONS of selfish adults.
• Children are indeed expensive. That has no bearing for the child-haters, because you don't actually spend any money on them. So that is dumb.
  
• Children are stupid. Hahaha. Yeah. But they will learn. Just because they have no choice but to have a smaller brain than you until they grow up, is no reason to hate someone.
• Children are small. Get over it. As you saw above. I listed that as a pro. Can you imagine a full grown version of the above? I shudder to think.
  
• Oh wait, that full grown version is YOU. You are noisy enough to bother me with your complaints. Have you ever heard of deodorant? Your constant demands for fewer children are what makes this society difficult to deal with. You are obviously too selfish to ever care for anyone but yourself. Your expensive school and apartment are never going to be enough to make you less stupid because you are too small to see the bigger picture.

Ok so that last part was a bit harsh. But it made my point. Next time you think about hating a child, go to the Aquarium, or the Zoo, and take note of all the happy faces. The last two times I went to the Aquarium, there were tons of children there, and not one of them was crying. In fact they were all completely immersed in the happiness of learning and the beauty of the world around them. Which is probably more than you can say for yourself.

Subculture: Movieruiners - The Return of all that is Evil!!

Ok before, I was irritated with a sense of amusement. Now I am just pissed.

There is a habit that a lot of people have which is to go out the week before the Academy Awards and watch all the nominated movies. This past week my boyfriend and I went out and saw The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, and Slumdog Millionaire. Both movies were ones we loved. We laughed we cried; but one thing that was not welcomed were the exasperated sighs of distress that were emitted as the MR's (Movie Ruiners. Oh God I just pulled a Rachel Ray. EVOO extra virgin olive oil) around us worked their sticky tendrils around us and sucked us into the vortex of a web that they spin ever-so carefully.

I am starting to think that it really is just me. They flock to me. They have a radar connected just to me. They have no justification, they don't even hold meetings. They just KNOW.

When we sat down to enjoy the three-hours glory that is Benjamin Button, we were at first unaware that the theater would fill up so completely. Luckily we got two very well placed seats, and we even had some space to spare. Our seats were one in from the aisle. Our situation was as follows

empty Me Jon empty

Pretty good right? It was no surprise when the aisle seat was taken by a loner movie-goer. Then the situation was more like this

Loner Me Jon empty

Jon temporarily left me with the loner and I sat there with my much desired curly fries. (Curly fries were the one food in any fast food restaurant that I would always crave as a child. They are sacred). Mr. Loner decided to make conversation, as sometimes happens in already awkward movie setups. "Hey, I love onion rings!"

PAUSE! What?? Onion rings? They are fries! And I never asked for your opinion!!!

Then he proceeded to either mockingly or in seriousness (couldn't tell, I was too flabbergasted) move his hand in the direction of my fries so as to take some. I just sort of shifted and tried to make him feel less welcome. It seemed to work.

Crisis averted, the movie began and I was feeling ok about this situation. Could be worse. My fries were safe, at least. Ten minutes after the movie started our loner left. The diagram reverts back to the original state. We were happy. I could breathe.

About half an hour into the movie (lights are down, the story is in full swing) two young men approached our little cove of happiness and decided to take the two available seats, though they had arrived together. Diagram suffers some major blows.

Squeaky Me Jon Oblivious

The nicknames will become clear in the next few lines. Our friend Squeaky, as it turns out, was sitting in a chair that when prompted to move certain ways would squeak non-stop with the slightest movement. Squeaky either didn't realize this, or he bloody-well didn't care, because the three-hour movie was punctuated by a continuous stream of high pitched noises in my ear of varying lengths and timbres.

The final straw was when these two buddies tried to share popcorn. They had a clear obstacle (Me and Jon) and saw fit to ignore it. It being the obstacle. Because we are an "it" rather than a set of people who have feelings and emotions. The popcorn was passed across Me and Jon, and I was ever so tempted to just take it, feigning ignorance and assuming it was being offered to me. Instead I flattened myself against the seat and prayed for the ordeal to never happen again. I was disappointed, as Oblivious decided to loudly say "Hey" a few times while trying to pass the popcorn back to Squeaky who refused it a few times before Oblivious gave up. All I have to say is fuck you guys. I hope I never again encounter you.

Slumdog Millionaire, besides being one of the best movies I have ever seen (no joke), was also a first for me in terms of movie ruiners. When we got into the theater we were amazed to see the place almost full. Opting to stay as far from the front row as possible, we headed to the back row where we found two seats among lots of people with seemingly good heads on their shoulders. Sometimes you can just tell.

That was when I noticed the couple to my right. There was a seat in between us (thank GOD), that they were apparently saving. There was a jacket on it, and whenever someone came up to ask to use it (this happened five times) they said someone was going to be using it. It wasn't until a lady was litterally forced to sit on the stairs in front of us that they GRACIOUSLY gave the seat up. Now, again I wasn't so much angry about this as generally annoyed. Sorry guys. You paid for two seats, not three. You were obviously just saving that seat so you could have a buffer seat that gave you "privacy" of some kind.

The movie had gone pretty far without any hiccups, and I was grateful. It was such a dazzling experience, and nothing was going to mess it up for me. Until: *ring ring*

Ok yes. His cell phone rang. And no. He didn't ignore it. He ANSWERED IT. And he talked on it for some time until hanging up. Then he talked to his girlfriend for a while in a language I didn't understand. A few minutes later I saw out of the corner of my eye, the blob that was two, suddenly slump over into one. He was LAYING ACROSS HER. The lady next to me gave a sigh of irritation which gave me the cue to look in their direction. They were whispering, and kissing and being generally disgusting. Then he called someone on his phone, talked for a while, hung up, called someone else, she got up and went to the bathroom, he talked for a while, she came back they were disgusting again, and I WANTED TO THROW UP. The previous run-on sentence was necessary for me to accurately depict everything without being overly dramatic.

Now I am going to be dramatic.

Excuse me?!!?!?? You are NOT in your living room! I think that is the slogan that needs to be repeated to every movie ruiner. It is so applicable, and it would make the world a way better place if they finally realized that at home you don't have to sit near hundreds of other people, pay an exorbitant amount of money, and you can make as much noise as you want. By all means!! Throw snacks at eachother, scream and shout when a character does something you don't like, get up and leave for a while, answer your god-damned phone (though I tend to get irritated with that even at home), make-out with the person next to you, ruin the ending, purposely annoy your friends, but please, for the sake of all that is good, DO IT AT HOME!!

I am Four Years Old

Here in Boston, it snows.  Some years it snows more than others.  Where I am from, it doesn't snow at all.  Before moving here I had seen snow fall maybe one time, and it was not heavy.  My culture doesn't prepare you for winter wonderlands.  Boston culture will only teach you to despise snow (my cah is covehd in snow!).  I try to take a different approach.

In front of my apartment snow piles up, and I look at it and think "omg yes!"  Meanwhile the rest of the city is freaking out that they have to shovel, and throw salt down, and do whatever normal adults are expected to "take care of their homes/businesses."  I just shake my head and smile.  Don't they know that the snow fairy will take it all away and dig a nice path for them?  All they have to do is wait for a little bit, and all their worries will have been for naught!  The snow fairy digs, and breaks up ice and leaves a trail of fairy dust that in turn melts anything that was left.  It is brilliant!

During storms, most people take the hint and stay indoors, sipping on tea and listening to the wind blow, saying occasionally "glad I'm not out THERE."  Me?  I go outside and run around, unaware of how wet and cold I am about to become.  Unaware of the impending sleepiness that is soon to take hold.  What do I do during ice storms?  I go out and make snow men.  What do I do when snow is falling horizontally?  I take the opportunity to do a photo shoot by the Charles River.  

What is important in all of this, though, is the fact that I am never alone.  I am not the only four year old lunatic in this town.  In fact, it is not even always my idea to go out and torture myself accidentally.  Someone might say, "man I would love to play in the snow right now."  To which I would reply, "why not?"  

So here's the why not.  This is how boots get filled with water, and gloves get wet and ruined, and coats stop being warm.  This is when you realize that you should have worn something more water proof, but you weren't planning on playing in the snow to begin with.  This is where you pretend that you are tough, even though your skin is getting red from the wind, and your legs won't carry you faster than a snail's pace.  And don't get me started on the hat hair.  

But you can't blame me.  I am only four years old.

I hope I don't lose the compulsion to do this stupid thing for a while yet.  It is one of my only vices, and I consider that a plus.  Think of it this way.  Rather than snort white powder, all I do is roll around in it.

Bandit Culture: Religion, and Why I Am More Blessed than You

Something that tends to permeate many cultures, no matter what country, is religion or spiritual belief. Being raised in America usually means that you are affiliated with one of the major western religions (i.e. Christianity, Judaism, Islam). Even if you have renounced your faith, you were still raised with some idea of religion, and you made the conscious choice not to follow.

I, on the other hand, am the product of such a practice. My parents were both raised with some semblance of Christianity, and decided not to follow, or to impose it upon me. Instead I was raised with weekly meditation groups, and was helped through questions to come to my own conclusions about the universe. I love this. LOVE. Given what I know of religion, it can be a wonderful tool, and it can be a destructive force, and I need neither a tool or a force.

Yet, I still have a tendancy to in some way steal, or act like I know a lot about other people's religions. This is simply because the idea of it fascinates me. I listen intently to prayers said over food, when the opportunity arises, and come Hanukkah I am always interested in the institution of prayers said in another language that everyone around seems to have at least some understanding of.

It only gets slightly awkward for me in small circumstances. For example I sneeze a lot. Like more than most people. It is ridiculous. Because of this I am always getting replies to my involuntary outbursts.

"God bless you!"

"Hm? Oh. Me?"

"Yeah...."

"Thanks?"

I always thought, since I sneeze so freaking much, it was a bit of an overreaction. To be blessed several times a day seems unwarranted. I experience severe "photo-nasal sensitivity." In other words the sun causes me to sneeze upon the slightest contact. Even on cloudy days I have to make sure I am carrying sunglasses. Otherwise, disaster. I find it incredibly irritating, but I guess I am just super blessed. By God. Several times a day. Thanks, God. This is quite the useful gift you have bestowed upon me, for all to see and remark upon.

I just wish that people would wish blessings upon me for other mundane bodily functions. "Oh, I notice that you have farted. God bless you." How fun would that be??

Ok, and yes I am well aware of the historical and superstitious origins of the practice of wishing blessings upon someone who has sneezed. And no I do not mind that lots of people have this politeness on their radar. I am just entertained by it, because I don't. Sometimes I think of it, but I just sort of figure I don't have the authority to bless others.

We pagans have lost that luxury. We have to go through so much more. Animal sacrifices, dances around fires. Sneezes are serious business, you know.

And now for a random word from my coworker. Bless her.

Hi. My name is M. I pole dance, you know. In my right hand I hold a pinwheel. With my left I swing about, cellulite to the wind. Purple veins up my legs that you can follow like a map. Follow? To where you ask? TO PARADISE!