Strictly Lit! (I mean it this time!)

So here's the thing: I've posted several entries, and none of them have much to do with literary interests. Before my loyal readers (lacking in that department currently, but just you wait) abandon me for false advertising, I plan to unsully my name by providing my ingenious perspective on an actual book for once. Here goes. Let's talk The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield. I love this book with a fierce passion that extends beyond childish fancies or critical appreciation. I love the book for its fantastical nature and its scholarly, yet lyrical wording. It impressed me, astonished, frightened me, and at times ensnared me in a deathhold. There are few adjectives that I could use to describe its affect, and at times I wonder just what drew me to this type of story. Then I cradle the book in my palms and reread my favorite passages. And, just like that, I remember.

The story is rather complex and intertwined, so I will only briefly explain it here. The book follows the perspective of Margaret Lea, a young biographer who was raised in a bookstore, literally. Her father owns an antique bookshop, which shelves rare and classic novels, almanacs, references, and so on. From her experiences in this store, she has developed a fervor for the written word above human beings, a fervor aptly described by Setterfield. The language she uses to intimate reading could only be written or even appreciated by a reader. To continue, the story begins when Margaret is sent a letter from the mysterious Vida Winter, the top living writer in the world. Winter has fabricated countless stories of her life for years, and now she is finally ready to tell the truth. Struck by Margaret's understanding of siblings in her previous work, Winter is willing to tell her story only to her. Margaret is then free to do with it what she wishes. Margaret agrees and is whisked away to Winter's estate.
But this is mere backstory. The plot proper begins with the tale itself, a sordid mystery involving dysfunctional siblings, a governess, and a terrible fire. To complicate things, some aspects of Winter's life mirror Margaret's own, so she has vested interest in how this story turns out. The rest I leave for you to discover.

Setterfield coaxes out her story with affection and takes her time with every passage. The story is long but also intense, so it never feels drawn out. I often relished the more verbose scenes, because they offered a needed break from the pulse-pounding drama of Winter's recollections. Even when you are given information, however, it is just enough to keep you immersed in the story. Nothing is as it seems. The most straightforward element in the story is quite twisted. There is so much that you don't know, but until the end, even you are not sure that you don't know it. This book is a game, a wicked but brilliant game. And the prize? If the twist itself is the trophy, fully understanding said twist's implications is the prize money. It is the reader's job to figure out which one he or she values more. For me, the jury's still out. Any excuse to reread my new favorite book of all time. I will warn you: falling in love with this novel will lead you into a voracious search for new material from the author. Unfortunately, her next novel is still in progress; regardless, I expect only great things from Mrs. Setterfield.

Yesterday, a blustery snow day that I spent entirely indoors, I watched history and progress coincide. I watched the presidential inauguration from the awkward bustling of the burgeoning crowd to the final waves of Obama and his wife to the former head of state and his first lady. No detail of the ceremony escaped me as I sat transfixed at my television screen. Of all the emotions I experienced that morning, the most dominant was admiration. Admiration for Obama's courage in taking a nation in such turmoil, admiration for his loyal, headstrong wife, admiration for his fatherhood, and admiration for my nation's wise choice. But most of all, admiration that I finally had a president who reminded me of Dad. Not just because of his brown skin and love for his two daughters, something my father and he have in common, but because of his character and his honor. My father is my human hero, and now my president is a close second. My memories of the ceremony will last forever. I will draw upon these memories as encouragement to perform at my best in every aspect of my life. And now, as a black community, we have no excuse not to pursue the dreams imposed on our hearts. I watched the inauguration on my television in my dorm room, but even if I had not been home, I would have found a way. From cellphones, to laptops, to Ipods, there is always something. There are certain things that you don't want to miss, and there are some things that you simply CAN'T miss. Watching President Obama solemnly swear upon THE Lincoln Bible (He is the first president to do so since Lincoln!) was the latter.

"Have a plan, have faith, and work hard"

Those were the sentiments of Byron Pitts of CBS news on a video clip we watched during Mass Med & Soc. class on Thursday. Pitts was convinced that Obama's election to office would not significantly improve black opportunites in journalism. I would like to extend that idea to every aspect of black life in the United States. We should not use President Obama's win as a "get out of jail free" card so to speak. He is a human being with influence, but we overestimate his influence. The pressure on our new president to perform well in every arena, simultaneously rescuing black Americans from discrimination and inequality, is unrealistic and overwhelming. His responsibility is to the nation as a whole. He has the power now to provide more opportunities for success, but it is up to us to take advantage of these opportunities. As President Obama believes, we need to become the change we want to see.

Another clip watched in class was a 1994 news panel of black entrepeneurs and corporate leaders, such as Ben Ruffin, the VP of corporate affairs at RJR/Nabisco, and Maceo K. Sloan, CEO of Sloan Financial Group. The third member of the group was Melanie Wilson, the planning director of the town of Garner. This well-rounded bunch offered several admonitions to the black community about taking charge of their futures. One point that felt strongly about was the idea that most black people have lost a sense of community and that the youth of our community have forgotten our historic struggles and triumphs. So what should we blame: according to the panel, with which I heartily agree, it is the theory of "meism." This idea is prevalent throughout America, regardless of color, but is is particularly destructive to us. Meism encourages ruthlessnes, greed, narcissism, and in its most primal form, division. Quite honestly, I believe that meism, seeking after your own pleasure or satisfaction whatever the cost, should be abolished altogether. It has set a bad precedent for corruption and a calloused business world. You can be competitive in life without oppressing others.

My first blog!

I have always been curious, or suspicious (take your pick), about bloggers. They are transcendent beings with a plethora of time and passion for various subjects. I have the passion. Time for blogging, on the other hand, is much more ethereal. I choose instead to indiscriminately lurk on any blog or forum of interest. But now, I too am a revolutionary blogger, due solely to my participation in my Mass Media and Society class.
I am taking this class for my enjoyment, since it is neither required for my major, nor part of my GEC requirement. Mass media's ability to connect human beings despite our differences and its psychological influence over us, however, have always fascinated me. As a not quite published novelist, understanding this influence and how to control it is reason enough to undertake this class. But there is a more underlying reason for pursuing this course. After all, if it could convince me to blog, how much more could it transform my life?