Jane Austen Watches Battlestar Galactica

Hello there stranger (and by stranger I mean my one reader, Amanda, who I see at least twice a week so...not really a stranger at all). I've fallen off the blogging bus but I am now back on and hope to update this blog bi-weekly. So let's get going.

Things I am into right now (in a big way)

1.) Christian Bale - I finally saw "The Dark Night" last night. I know, I know, I know, I should have seen it in the theater at least 1,000 times according to most people I have talked to. But since I finally got around to seeing it on my little laptop I feel justified in saying that Christian Bale is epic. When I was in high school I saw "Swing Kids", a movie set in 1930s Germany where all the kids want to do is DANCE(!) There were all, "Here's a jitterbug in your eye Hitler". It wasn't a good film but Robert Sean Leonard was in it as was a young Christian Bale. At the time I had a massive crush on RSL (if you're down you can call him that) and never even paid much attention to Bale. Oh the folly of youth! I hope to atone by finding, watching and loving the Disney musical "Newsies" where Bale dances away the blues of being a low-paid newspaper boy and takes on (while singing mind you) the evil empire that is Hearst Media. It will no doubt be awful and I'll love every minute of it.

2.) The Poetry of W.B. Yeats - My friend Beverly and I have decided to broaden our reading. For her that means more non-fiction. For me that means more poetry. I stumbled on a book of collected poems of W.B. Yeats and this poem struck me as particularly good:

No Second Troy

WHY should I blame her that she filled my days With misery, or that she would of late Have taught to ignorant men most violent ways, Or hurled the little streets upon the great. Had they but courage equal to desire? What could have made her peaceful with a mind That nobleness made simple as a fire, With beauty like a tightened bow, a kind That is not natural in an age like this, Being high and solitary and most stern? Why, what could she have done, being what she is? Was there another Troy for her to burn?

I wonder what he means in the line, "Hurl the little streets upon the great." Any ideas? If so, write it on the back of a postcard and send it in. Winners will be chosen at random by a blind, deaf midget who has been given too much to drink. Fingers crossed.

3.) The Final Cylon - I really thought I had defeated my inner sci-fi nerd. I was pleased to find that I didn't care for "Blade Runner" or the final three Star Wars movies. Sci-fi dork is a charming trait in a man but does little for a woman other than make her seem that much weirder than her SATC-loving friends. But when I saw the first episode of "Battlestar Galactica" I knew I couldn't keep my inner sci-fi nerd quiet any longer. She lashed out, devouring every episode, spending hours on the Internet reading whacked-out theories about cylons profligated by men, who no doubt, live in their mother's basements and hand-craft Lee Adama dolls out of balsa wood and spit. On the bright side though the last season starts this Friday so by all accounts my obsession should be over soon. But what will I do with all those Lee Adama dolls I made out of balsa wood and spit?

Chic Lit

Welcome to "Jane Austen Watches South Park", a blog about classic literature and popular culture. So let's get to it, shall we?

I am currently having a bit of a East Coast/French Coast beef with 19th century French author George Sand. I picked up "Horace" at my local used book store (I'm all about The Thrift) and should have realized when the novel's synopsis mentioned the little seen bio-pic on Sand entitled, "Crappy Little Movie About George Sand Starring Hugh Grant At His Floppy Haired Peak", that it wasn't a great book. Quick fact: If a movie is mentioned in the synopsis of a book, which did not win an Oscar, or has the phrase 'A new film starring Vince Vaughn', it is a good bet that the book will be epically crappy.

So to get down to the ol' berets and croissants of my feud with Frenchie George, I believe her to be a technically bad writer. Trust me, it brings me no joy to trash on a French writer. I mean, I'm the girl who has not one but two(!) books on how to find your inner French woman-turns out my inner French woman's name is Mireille and she despises the work of Frank Llyod Wright, but that's beside the point. Sand gets bogged down in back story, the characters are as flat as a 9th century globe and her narrative framing is so glaringly bad it took my eyes off the story itself.

Sand seems to be more concerned with making a political statement about the equality of women than in writing a novel. Other writers such as Orwell or Flaubert or have made political and social statements in their novels but made it seem the statement served the story rather than the story serving the statement which is what Sand seems to have done.

Ah well, back to the bookstore it goes.