Okay, a classic, I know. It's been reviewed and reviewed and read by countless English classes. And of course, its claim to fame most recently is that it's the "Book That Brought Oprah's Book Club Back." (I am NOT knocking Oprah or her Book Club. Anything that gets people reading is a GOOD thing, and I believe that people who do knock Oprah Winfrey are doing so because they think they're more intelligent and talented than a woman who has risen from a difficult childhood to become a billionaire who uses her resources to help as many as she can. And guess what? They're not. It's just their insecure fear lashing out. Gee whiz, Beck, are you reviewing a book here? Get on with it)
So there's nothing new under the sun here, but wow, I got so much from this book. I found some of the character conversations to be trying and unrealistic, but then, the entire book has an epic feel that doesn't require realism. I got lost in Steinbeck's description of country and place. His language and style are what I would like to emulate in my own writing. In my fantasy world (in which I am disciplined enough to call myself a "writer"), I see myself sitting down to write an epic of place. I'd like to say an epic of place similar to this one, but I suspect my efforts would fall short.
A couple of my favorite quotes:
Our species is the only creative species, and it had only one creative instrument, the individual mind and spirit of a man. Nothing was ever created by two men. There are no good collaborations, whether in music, in art, in poetry, in mathematics, in philosophy. Once the miracle of creation has taken place, the group can build and extend it, but the group never invents anything. The preciousness lies in the lonely mind of a man.
And this I believe: that the free, exploring mind of the individual human is the most valuable thing in the world. And this I would fight for: the freedom of the mind to take any direction it wishes, undirected. And this I must fight against: any idea, religion, or government which limits or destroys the individual.
We took Jake to see Shrek 2 yesterday. You can talk to Ike about the review--he gives it a six. But here's what I saw: a movie that Jake sat through the entire time, talking very little. (Especially compared to how much the mother next to us talked. I have this pet peeve--I hate it when people feel like they have to tell everyone else in the movie theater what's happening. Dammit, I'm watching the movie too.) Anyway, it was a movie Jake enjoyed AND this morning we talked about Princess Fiona. He said, "She's cool. And she's pretty. And she's mean."
Ok, to him, "mean" is a good thing right now. Or anyway, in the context of our discussion it was. Here's my thing about Shrek. I applaud a movie that has a kick-ass heroine who is happier as herself than she is as a skinny helpless princess. So stick THAT in your ear, Snow Wimpy White.
So. This was enough to send me running back to my blog. Tonight while searching for geneology information on my paternal family, I got frustrated with just how little you can find on the web dealing with redneck families who rarely crawl from beneath their rocks. I think to myself, "Why not see what I can find on ME?" Yes, big ego speaking here. So I google myself with my maiden name: Becky Wishon. And here's what I found, first thing.
If you now could go back in time anywhere from 1-20 years and tell your younger self anything (200 words max), when would you go and what would you say?
Again, one of those difficult questions, because I would basically presuppose that if I tell myself this one thing, my life would end up as happy as it is today. I mean, I could tell myself, "Hey, Becky Wishon will cheat on you, so don't bother dating her or your heart will get broken and you'll be a horrible codependent for many years." But then, would I have had all of the great experiences that I had as a result of being completely crushed? Or would I have just made the same mistake with a different codependent and mildly psychotic girl?
Ouch. Yikes. And that ever pressing question: Gee, he only remembers me as mildly psychotic? Nice.
And hey, he's getting married, so if he ever stumbles on this blog, I'll just say this: Congratulations. And it all worked out for the absolute best.
Note to self: No more googling.