Not sure if I was enthralled (I'm really not one for stories of wealth and privilege, even if they are murderous), but as Joanna said, "The writing is good." It was. And I'm interested in the fact that I met the author first, before reading the book that put her on the map. I'm more intrigued in the mind of the individual who would write such a story...obviously well-educated, in proximity of old money, and in the know of power structures and how they operate. I'm also not a romance/love story reader, which Liars has, but I can say I didn't anticipate the narrative arc. I was surprised, if not frustrated. I think I'm perplexed at times -- not because of the good writing -- but why some books appeal to the masses in the ways that they do. I'm wondering if this is a story that appeals to adolescent girls and adult women, because it somehow hits all the societal expectations placed on them...if it is fantasy and desire...or if it is Bertha, the mad woman in the attic. Maybe it is all of that. I definitely picked up on the King Lear vibe, too. I'm also very interested in how its appeal resonates with urban readers who are often far removed from the privilege the characters live.
Ah, but I found a frog car and want it to ride into the sunset at the end of the world. Maybe Nostradamus or Baba Vanga have crossed celestial predications of the future and we are living the insanity of how it all ends right now in 2025. Then I think about Chicken Little, each phase of my life, and how the sky always seems to be falling. There's always emergencies and panic and conspiracies and dire warnings. Perhaps a fear of the end is what drives us all.
In Connecticut, we have Chinese Lantern Flies not only taking over August with their checkered read and black wings, but their nymph-spider phase landing on everything. Invasive. Gross. Abundant. New. It didn't used to be this way.
Then I read an article about how fireflies are on their way out. Human chemicals have done too much for their habitats and they are not expected to survive as a species throughout my lifetime. I like my fireflies, and I'm hoping this is not true and part of human paranoia because we're such a sick species.
The recovering environmentalist knows that a removal of humanity is a saving grace for nature and the world....species beyond our barbaric ways. I suppose those of us in the humanities fool ourselves in believing that there's also good in human kind...I know that is true, but when the vicious and ugly hand over the narrative to Sauron and the orcs...well, I'm not optimistic on what comes from it all. I just know that my nature is more Charlie Bucket than Veruca Salt and her wealthy father.
Ribbit Ribbit. Vroom Vroom. Blog Blog Blog. Write Write. Hope Hope. We will never know if the efforts we put forward in our time on earth will carry forward for the good of life and survival. Not when we have canines and a psyche with id, ego, and superego. Not when envy exists, power, and a battle for owning truth for the temporary gain of a few.
And that's why I am glad I found a frog car online that I wish I could build for myself at the end of the world.
