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Everything that matters to me (and maybe you as well)

Archive for the category “Books”

The “Women Stuff” List (Sans Fifty Shades of Grey)

I am, by most definitions, a woman. By birth and by identification I consider myself a full lady-woman-girl. I once called the last installment of the ultra macho Batman movies, The Dark Knight, “cute.” When the series finale to the TV show ‘Friends’ first aired I fell apart in a complete and utter sob-fest because “no one will ever love me like Ross loves Rachel!” (Ah, adolescence) I believe these are the scientific criteria for what qualifies ‘womanhood’ and, clearly, I pass them all with flying colors.

But, riddle me this: if I’m such a shining beacon of womanhood then why is it that I can’t get on board with a large handful of supposedly womanly things (I’d say ‘girly things’ but that mostly evokes images of cotton-candy pinkness) that exist on the Women Stuff list.

Y’know. That proverbial, permanent list of superficial things that every woman on the face of the earth is supposed to inherently and unquestionably love. The ‘Women Stuff’ list. Every few years (few months, few weeks, few hours) something new is added to the list.

A few fan-favorites from the ‘Women Stuff’ list include:

  • Chocolate
  • High heels
  • Sex and the City
  • Cupcakes
  • Designer purses
  • The timeless allure of George Clooney

But, see, I’m a woman and yet I don’t truly love all those things. I mean, sure, gimme a baker’s dozen of the chocolate George Clooney cupcakes but, other than those, I can’t say I would invest a significant amount of my time, money, or general interest in any of those other things. Does this mean I’m not embodying ‘woman’ enough? Do people see me as some kind of uncertain half-breed now?

Well, to make matters worse, it now seems there is a brand spanking new addition being made to the proverbial ‘Women Stuff’ list. On the bright side: its a book. (Look at us, reading and everything!) On the very hopelessly dim side: its Fifty-Shades-of-Freaking-Guuueregh!

Yup. It dawned on me today, as I was walking into a bookstore with a couple of friends, that Fifty Shade of Grey is now an official item on the “Woman Stuff” list. As I nonchalantly picked up one of these uninspired tomes I casually mentioned how I didn’t understand why everyone was so insanely obsessed with this thing. One of my friends haplessly shrugged and replied, “You know, its women stuff.” My two other friends simply nodded along in careless agreement.

Now, as a definitively certain woman, I honestly don’t think I know a single person (let alone another woman) who has really read Fifty Shades of Grey. And yet the Fifty Shades of Crazy is in full swing. Through absolutely no help from anyone within both my family and my social circles, Fifty Shades of Grey has now made such a massively shocking mark on popular culture that there is, quite literally, a Fifty Shades spin-off item of some sort being manufactured and sold to a woman nearly every single minute of every single day.

Okay, now don’t get me wrong here. Yes, I personally think that this book is wildly idiotic, horribly written, and very annoyingly and detrimentally haphazard about the placement of its female figures as stupid victims who only seem superficially empowered. And, yes, if it were up to me I’d probably include a piece of writing with a little more thought and meaning behind it on the “Woman Stuff” list. But I’m definitely not about to become some annoyingly high-horsed idiot and presume the right to tell women what they can and can’t like.

Did Fifty Shades of Grey entertain you, help you amusingly drift off into another world, or give you any momentary awakenings? I think that’s absolutely great. So what if you like to kill some time every afternoon with a saucy, titillating read? I completely agree. Go for it, ladies. Go Grey crazy.

All I’d like to suggest is, would it be okay if we left Fifty Shades of Grey off of our eternal ‘Women Stuff’ list? Can we not make it one of our defining emblems for the rest of time? I mean, the list is embarrassingly superficial enough as it is. Can’t we just let Fifty Shades of Grey be that one book that was really popular and that everyone read at one point? Please?

All my love!

For My Niece: Why There’s Nothing Wrong With Beauty Being “Skin-Deep”

So I love clothes. And I love books. I have friends who can’t stand to read a page of literature and would much rather spend hours pouring over an article in Vogue. And then I have another group of friends who consider clothing as nothing more than an obligatory part of waking up in the morning and don’t find the least bit of interest in fashion as they do in spending hours on end reading every kind of book on the planet.

The fashionistas think that the bookworms are socially inept hermits, and the bookworms think that the fashionistas are shallow airheads. But hey! I love clothes and I love books, goddammit! I care about my looks and my brain, so what the hell am I?

Not only that but I can tell you with complete confidence that I’ve had long and deep conversations about the most philosophical subjects with my fashionista girls and that I’ve shared the most insanely adventurous and stupid-yet-awesome moments of my life with my bookworm friends.

My point being that there is no exclusive importance that needs to be placed on either looks or brains in order for a woman to feel truly unique and beautiful. There just isn’t.

But, according to the 12th most shared article of 2011, ‘How to Talk to Little Girls,’ I’ve got it all wrong.

So apparently the author of this article (Lisa Bloom) thinks we should just annihilate any and all forms of praise for physical attributes that a little girl may have so that we don’t unintentionally contribute to her developing a self-image issue in her psyche. Instead of focusing our compliments on how pretty a little girl looks in a dress, we should shower her with encouraging comments about the books she reads or hobbies she enjoys. Anything but tell her that she looks pretty darn cute in her first real pair of big-girl shoes.

According to her advice, leaving out all these remarks on a girl’s physical and external beauty will lead to “one tiny bit of opposition to a culture that sends all the wrong messages to our girls. One tiny nudge towards valuing female brains.”

Which, hey, I am absolutely and wholeheartedly down for. Anything that can be done to help remove the insane and extremely harmful social standards of physical beauty and self-worth is a great and noble cause in my book.

But I still don’t think that erasing the topic of fashion or physical beauty altogether is going to lead to a whole lot of improvement.

I’ve got a particular friend back in Kuwait who comes to mind here. She’s someone who cares so much about the fashion industry and about keeping up with the latest trends that grace the pages of Vogue magazine that, sometimes, it can be ridiculous. Fashion is, by all means, her true ambition in this life. But yet she has suffered some very hurtful experiences while growing up because of the fact that fashion was her passion. She was immediately discounted by her teachers, her employers, and sometimes even her own family as being “stupid,” “shallow,” and “self-centered.” Yet this girl graduated in my class with a Magna Cum Laude honors and a sky-high GPA.

She was not stupid nor was she, by any means, self-centered or superficial.

And this is the mistake that people make when they opt for the whole “books not looks” praise philosophy. With the best of intentions people make this mistake under the impression that we are promoting something healthy and good but, actually, all we end up doing is substituting one complex for another.

We’re letting girls think that they can either be praised for their looks or their brains, but not both.

And, of course, we need to remind little girls and young women that, in a world where there is so much emphasis being placed on the pressure to look a certain way, that their minds matter too. It’s important for women to talk to other women (and little girls) about books, art, politics, and ideas. But those great efforts don’t erase the fact that there still is a lot of pressure on body image that’s waiting for little girls just beyond their doorsteps. They are going to be bombarded with all kinds of confusing messages about how a girl should externally look and behave no matter what. And it’ll be downright irresponsible of us to leave them with those confusing messages and not address them along with every other “intellectual” thing.

When we don’t talk to girls about clothes or makeup we give them the WRONG AND HARMFUL impression that these things are unimportant and signs of vanity. And when we only ever compliment them about their looks we instill the equally WRONG AND HARMFUL impression that looks are all that matters.

So, what’s to be done here? Compliment girls on how they look AS WELL AS other topics of interest. Let them know that its essentially important to have an appreciation for physical as well as intellectual beauty. AS IN BOTH. AT THE SAME TIME.

As for me, not a single day is going to pass by that I’m not going to tell my little niece how beautiful she looks when I see her. And the more she grows the more I’m going to talk to her about every subject under the sun. I’m going to read to her and then I’m going to go help her pick out her outfit.

Because I want her to take after her auntie: I want her to love clothes and love books.

All my love!

Montreal is the Most Beautiful in the Snow.

Montreal is cold. It can plummet to degrees of coldness here that would easily rival the Arctic. Streets become covered in icy slates of slippery death. The trees shrivel of all color and stand as frigid, lifeless skeletons of nature–black and haunting. Montreal is swallowed up by a cape of white and no other color emerges but the graying fog that fills the skies, and the occaisonal purple scarf peaking out from under the heavy winter jacket of a rosy-faced schoolgirl walking back home from the bus stop, muddling across the slushy pavement.

I’ve never been a winter person. Raised in Kuwait, my flesh has always longed for the warm beam of sunlight that penetrates through my blue window-shade every morning. In Montreal, no sun penetrates through my window-shade.

But, sometimes, I look out the window at the stark ocean of whiteness and a warmth radiates in the soles of my feet. I’m moved by the overwhelmingly freezing touch of the window-pane to make a cup of warm tea. I am moved to cuddle up in bed and read Paul Auster’s ‘The Invention of Solitude.’ I am moved to seek out the tiny movements of life that lovingly peek their heads out at the world despite the cold and the lifelessness and the whiteness of Montreal on this winter day.

And whenever I spot the fleeting yellow of a moving school bus, see the shadow of a small girl’s pink parka running across the snow, or hear a dog barking with such forceful glee at being outside despite the whips of freezing wind, I am, for a brief second, a lover of winter and all that it brings.

The surprising jolts of life that push their way through the cruel and graying air make me smile. I’m not sure why, but they make me hopeful. Hopeful of what, I can’t say.

Montreal is cold. Montreal is not Kuwait. But Montreal is the most beautiful in the snow.

Books are like Vitamins FOR YOU BRAIN: Kuwait Reading List

So I’m going to be heading back to Kuwait in around 10 days time (cue in “We are the Champions” background music). And even though I’ve been literally drowning in my course reading list for the last 4 months and could honestly do without ever having to look at George Eliot’s Middlemarch EVER AGAIN, I’ve come up with a reading list to take with me on my 22 HOUR JOURNEY TO KUWAIT (of which 15 hours will be spent being airborne). I’ve also picked out a couple of books from my ‘Oh my GOD I have been dieing to read this for the last 10 years but keep forgetting!’ list to take with me to Kuwait to read at my leisure WITHOUT HAVING TO APPLY NARRATOLOGY THEORY TO IT.

And the current book list is as follows:

1 – Marcel Proust’s Swann’s Way – Now this the only book on my list which I have previously read. Twice. And then once again. BUT THIS IS A NEW TRANSLATION WHICH I HAVE NOT READ BEFORE, OK? Look, Marcel Proust is the very reason why I ever got into English Literature as a freaking career path. My senior thesis in university was based on Proust (and his two second cousins, Woolf and Joyce). The reason why I’m getting my MA is because I wanna try and hack my way into hopefully becoming a Proust scholar someday. This book changed my life and it continues to open my mind and my heart every time I take the time to notice it’s pure beauty. I owe a lot of that love to the translators because I cannot speak or read a lick of French (although Montreal is very slightly helping in that area) and without the translation of this book I would’ve never been exposed to one of the books that have honestly changed my whole existence. Every time a new translation of Swann’s Way comes out I read it and I get just as enthralled by it. Read it. Now. It will change you in some way, I swear it.

2 - Émile Zola’s Thérèse RaquinNow, I am not on some French writer kick or anything of the sort (I actually think many of them are as dry and lifeless as some day old french fries). But a friend here recommended it to me and overstressed the fact that if I don’t read it I might as well pelt myself onto a bed of rusty nails as my life shall forever lack meaning and true substance. So in lieu of that recommendation I’m giving it a go. Apparently its very saucy and scandalous. It’ll feed the inner tabloid reader in me.

3 – Dave Eggers’ A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius - Have heard way too much about this book for it to not spark my curiosity. Some people think its atrocious and others freaking swear by it. And besides, such an ambitious title poses a real  temptation for any bookworm if you ask me. Will report back on what I think.

4 - Toni Morrison’s Beloved – When I tell people how much Swann’s Way changed me a lot of them tell me that’s exactly how they feel about this book. Add that plus the fact that Sula (the only other Morrison book I’ve read) made me weep and I AM SOLD.

5 – Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s One Hundred Years of Solitude - This is a book that has been sitting on my shelf, mocking me, for about the last 3 years. I want to read it so badly I could have a hernia. And I will, goddammit!

If anyone’s got any other suggestions about other books they think will complete my life, please let me know! Also, I’ve added links to Amazon to all of these books in case anyone was intrigued enough into doling out their hard-earned cash to give them a read.

All my love!

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