Review: Gone with the Wind

Here I sit on a sunny Tuesday morning, eagerly experimenting to see whether or not my technical difficulties have indeed been resolved! My technical support is awesome. Just saying.

Everything is sleepiness around me. My technical support is home sick with a terrible cough, and the creatures are all curled up in various places across the house. Marmaduke went to the vet yesterday and still hasn't forgiven me for it. He's burying his face in his paws, refusing to acknowledge anyone but Rohan. Sigh . . . It really is for your own good, Marmaduke!

Okay, let me see if I can post some thoughts on Margaret Mitchell's famous masterpiece, Gone with the Wind. I am embarrassed that it has taken me this long to get to it!

I confess, I wasn't entirely certain what to expect when picking up this enormous volume. I've seen the movie, of course . . . an impressive piece of cinematography that really couldn't help but be enjoyable to watch when the cast includes Clark Gable, Vivien Leigh, and Leslie Howard (dreamy sigh! But don't judge him on this film. Find his version of Pygmalion instead). But everyone knows that you should never, but never, judge a book by its film adaption!

Years ago, I gave Gone with the Wind a half-hearted attempt, but gave it up because I couldn't stand the character of Scarlet. It is so interesting approaching the book now after several years of literary training, one published novel, and a second one about to release. It definitely gives me a new perspective! Scarlet is, of course, a terribly annoying and even reprehensible character. She is vain and selfish, petty and rude, hypocritical and two-faced etc. It's enough to drive a reader up the wall!

But now as I read it, I recognize the genius of what Mitchell was doing with the character. She never intended Scarlet to likable. She intended her to be memorable. Who, after reading of her despairing love for Ashley, her confused hate/love for his wife, Melanie, her strange passion for Rhett Butler, and her heart-rending devotion to Tara, her father's plantation, can possibly forget Scarlet O'Hara? My word, is she flawed! My word, is she difficult to swallow sometimes! But she remains unforgettable.

Compare her for a moment with even such marvelous literary heroines as Jane Eyre, Elizabeth Bennet, etc. As much as I adore Jane and Elizabeth (in very different ways, for they are very different heroines as well), there is something about Scarlet that speaks to a deeper place in my heart. A secret place that I don't quite want to acknowledge. That quiet little corner of my mind that says, 'I could be just like her. Change my circumstances only slightly, and how am I any better?' Scarlet, for all she is an extreme, is also a universal. We relate to her even as we despise her . . . perhaps all the more so because we despise her.

And seriously, how can we help but admire her as well? With an admiration that we almost don't want to admit, because who wants to look up to a heart-breaker, a user, a liar, a manipulator? Of course, it's difficult to love her. Not like you can love Melanie, who is strong in her virtue and honest love. But Melanie, as lovable as she is, is not the universal character of Scarlet. We perhaps know Melanies in our own lives, but how many of us would dare to think that we are like her?

After writing a character like Princess Una from Heartless, I've developed a lot more understanding for authors who portray such flawed heroines (not that I would place Una in the same literary class as Scarlet! Heaven forbid!). I've received more than one harsh critique on that character, criticizing her weakness, her selfishness, her petty nature. All or which, are completely true about her! Sadly, many of these readers don't realize that, were she to be the strong and courageous type of heroine, then the whole plot of Heartless would be rendered pointless. And the fact is, a character with flaws as dominant as Princess Una's is much harder to forget. As much as we may despise her, we also see ourselves in her. We'd like to think, "No, I would never behave that way in that situation!" But the fact is, many of us would, have, and will again.

Anyway, I digress. So, halfway through reading Gone with the Wind, this is my opinion of Scarlet O'Hara: an unlikeable character, but so strongly drawn that, once you encounter her, you don't forget. They story is gripping and manages, despite it's incredible page count, to keep up a fantastic pace (due in large part to Mitchell's skillfully handled omniscient narrative). The characters are vivid, the imagery, superb, the depiction of that horrible period of history, breathtaking.

Note: It is painful to read Mitchell's harsh and ignorant portrayal of African Americans. She uses insensitive language and foolish portrayals of the characters (which isn't surprising, considering the time in which she was writing, but doesn't make it more palatable). And while I understand that not all of the slave owners were the evil and abusive monsters often portrayed in fiction these days, I don't think Mitchell presents a balanced picture of what life was actually like for those enslaved either.

Nonetheless, an interesting read so far! I suppose it's silly to post a review on a book I haven't finished yet, so don't count this as a review . . . merely thoughts on a read-in-progress.

And my mug of tea is empty. I think I'm going to fill it again . . . . Then time to get back into my current manuscript. I haven't so much as LOOKED at it for more than a week, and I scarcely remember where I left my poor characters. Someone was looking at some ancient and defaced tombs, someone was lost in an abandoned city, and someone else . . . but that I don't remember. Yes, time to pull up my poor, neglected little draft . . . .

Compete to Win an Autographed Copy of Heartless

Hello again! Sadly, still no progress on the "technical difficulty." It's tennis season, you understand, and my husband (a brilliant tennis player) is a little tied up at present. But once he has vanquished them all at tournament, he will help me figure out my little blog-issues.

In the meanwhile, you might like to jump over to my facebook fan page and compete to win an autographed copy of HEARTLESS. All you have to do is name all the literary or cinematic dragons you can think of! It's as simple as that.

Try it . . . you'll enjoy it!

Technically Illiterate . . . .

Forgive me, dear and patient readers. I have had every intention of posting more random thoughts and reviews (specifically on Margaret Mitchell's Gone with the Wind, which I have been devouring lately). But I am having technical issues with this blog site which I have not yet been able to figure out. Time to call in the husband support! In the meanwhile, you might enjoy reading this interview: http://www.wherethemapends.com/Interviews/current_interview.htm This was one of the most fun interviews I've had an opportunity to do! Hope you are amused by it.

The Creatures of Rooglewood

My handsome husband and I have now been married for six months, settling into a delightful and busy life in our home, Rooglewood. The writing life has been full and fun, we have decided to become green-thumbs (first batch of dead sprouts aside), and we make every effort to keep up with the jazz and classical music scene to be had in Raleigh. Such a delightful stage of life!

I believe the time has come to introduce some of the important furry people who also live at Rooglewood. Those of you who have read Heartless will have guessed already that I am one of those strange cat-people types. So it had to happen, eventually. You knew I would one day make you read a post devoted to my favorite creautres . . . three very distinct people-cats. Helpful, inspirational, evil--

WOW! There was a big crash in my library just now! Back in a second . . . must go stop fuzzy carnage! Okay, I'm back. The Evil One just broke a clay figurine of a blue cat. Sigh . . . more on her later, though. First, let me introduce you to:

Molly Boots!

(aka: Angel Face, Molly Bootsness, Molly Bootsity, Good-Golly-Miss-Molly, etc).

She is my blonde. Her catch phrase is: "I don't know what's going on!" She either looks content or confused. Admit it, we all know people like that. And we are thankful to have them because we also know people like:

Minerva Louise!

(aka: Fluffy Cat, Bitty Kitty, and . . . The Evil One.)

She is, in reality, the most chill little cat I have ever met (I know you don't believe me, but I mean it!). The thing with Minerva is her compelling need for attention. Which she gets by destroying little blue clay figurines of cats (as an example). Once, soon after I got my most recent kitten, Minerva knocked an entire portrait commission off its easel and proceeded to . . . um . . . hairball it.

Thus she is The Evil One.

Her catch phrase: "Oh, Rohan! Anne Elisabeth has been wretched to me today! But you love me, don't you? Oh, Rohan!"

She is my husband's favorite. And oh, she knows it!

Other catch phrase: "All shall love me and despair! Teehee!"

Moving on.

Prepare your eyes for beauty beyond the ken of mortal men. The next wonder upon which you will look is an Abyssinian, direct descendant from the ancient gods of old Egypt, time-honored and worshipful, glorious in grace and perfection, the awesome, the mighty, the marvelous . . . .

Lord Maramduke Chuffnell!

(aka: Duke, Duker, Captain Marmalade, and Punkadoodle.)

All right, so he's not the most dignified Egyptian deity you'll ever meet. But he's a charmer and a terrible flirt! His tendency is to fall instantly in love with you at first sight, and he is more than happy to leap into the arms of total strangers, wrap his paws around their necks, and nuzzle nose-to-nose. It's a little embarrassing sometimes . . . .

His catch phrase: "You're breathing! I'm breathing! We have so much in common! We should be friends!"

Other catch phrase: "ME TOO! ME TOO! ME TOO!" He is the youngest, after all . . . .

My current work-in-progress is a story heavily featuring Princess Una's cat, Monster, from Heartless. While writing this character, I find myself pausing more often than not to ask, "What would Marmaduke do here?"

One final image:

Molly sits in angelic (if confused) glow, Marmaduke is graceful, and Minerva plots evil. A typical day at Rooglewood Manor!

All right, I've got the galleys of Veiled Rose to finish reading now, catching all the last misprints so that none of you will have to deal with them! Have a blessed day, dear readers.

Poor Little Blog

Oh dear.


I have sadly neglected this poor little blog of late! Guilt abounds.


But I have been relatively busy these last few months. For starters, I was on a deadline. Not just any deadline . . . we are talking the Mother Of All Deadlines.


Two months to write an 120,000 word novel.

YIKES!


By the grace of God, I succeeded, my editors liked the draft, and we are moving along at a fair clip. Soon I will post the cover for VEILED ROSE which will come out in summer of 2011. So exciting!


And, because life can always get more exciting . . . .






I am now married to the kindest, the most wonderful, the dashing, and clever, and charming, and brilliant Rohan de Silva, fencer extraordinaire!

And we are ridiculously happy!




Okay, back to the manuscript . . . .

Come away, O human child!

Come away, O human child!

To the waters and the wild

With a faery, hand in hand,

For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand

I think these lines from W. B. Yeats, taken from his long poem, The Stolen Child, capture one of the most beautiful reasons why authors throughout the ages have written faerie tales. That deep-rooted desire to catch at something bigger, broader, more terrifying and more beautiful, than the natural world can hold. That longing for the Other, that nameless Other, that finds its breath in the unhindered imagination.

Yeats is one of my favorite poets, but I had not read this poem until just yesterday. I love discovering those who can say in a few lines what I try to say in whole novels! Yeats, my dear, you humble and move me.

Fairy Tales

I feel it is time to continue this blog, perhaps with rather more faithfulness than before. So I am going to tell you, my (few) faithful readers, a little fairy tale. Except this one is true.

As you know, I've been taking fencing classes.

Toward the end of my first term as a fencer, I was not what you'd call the most brilliant student in the class. But I enjoy the sport, and my enthusiasm can carry me where talent cannot. Thus when the time drew near for our end-of-term tournament, I approached the event with little confidence in success but plenty of verve!

When I realized I was being paired off to fight Rohan first.

Let me try to express to you how unfair this fight was. For one thing, he is significantly more athletic than I (I am more the . . . artistic sort, we'll say). For another, he'd been taking lessons for at least a year longer than I.

I was doomed.

Nevertheless, upon being informed that such was my fate, I made the best of it by sidling up to this gentleman (with whom I had exchanged no more than two words perhaps all term) and proceeded as such.

AE: "I want your blood."

Rohan: "Pardon?"

AE: "You need to be afraid now. I'm scheduled to fight you first, and I just want you to know that I intend to eat you for lunch, metaphorically speaking. You should be afraid."

Rohan (grinning): "They'll have to duct tape my sword to my hand, I'll be trembling so hard!"

The call to suit up and salute was given, and a few minutes later, I stood across from my opponent, ready to die, but determined not to show it.

Imagine my surprise, dear readers, when I actually won the match!

Yes, you read that right. I won that first match of the tournament, a match I could not have hoped to succeed in. It didn't matter that I was creamed in all subsequent battles . . . I actually carried the day in my first!

(To be fair, it was a short match to five, not a full match to fifteen . . . and Rohan went on to beat everyone else he fought that night, because he really is that much better than me. But don't tell anyone I admitted that.)

Following our fight, and his gracious acknowledgement of defeat, this young man and I sat to watch the next few matches, chatting lightly about fencing and art and a little about literature. And I thought to myself, What a pleasant young man I have just defeated in cold blood.

The next week, he asked me to go to an art gallery with him.

The week after that, he took me to hear live jazz.

The week after that, he treated me to Belgian baked goods.

The week after that, we went dancing.

Do you see where this is going?

All that to say, I am now officially "stepping out" with a young man handsome enough to have stepped out of a romance novel, adventurous enough to have stepped out of one of my novels . . . and most of all, he is the kindest man I have ever met.

So there you have a fairy tale, better composed and written than any one of mine! And now I must get back to my official noveling . . . .

Who knew that fencing would be quite so much fun?