Several interesting reads:
The Chelsea Whistle by Michelle Tea, former traveling poet with the spoken word touring group, Sister Spit. God, I love this author. Fiercely written down to the finest detail she continues to fling the written word around like it’s her bitch. I have her other two books, Valencia and The Passionate Mistakes and Intricate Corruptions of One Girl in America, and I have read them over and over again. Even though I’m not nearly the bad ass that Michelle is, I love vicariously living her life in San Francisco as a once punk rock lesbian, former prostitute, current writer. The Chelsea Whistle is about her childhood, growing up poor and destitute, in a suburb outside of Boston. Even Josh enjoys Michelle Tea, despite being completely opposite her target demographic. An intoxicating read.
Everything About Me Is Fake…and I’m Perfect! the continuing memoir by Janice Dickinson is such a guilty read. If Janice was truly the first supermodel, why had I not heard of her until her debut as a judge for American’s Next Top Model? (She has been compared to as the Simon Cowell of the ATM world). No mind, she apparently rocked the 70’s as a raging, coke snorting, anorexic bitch who dated fine superstars such as Mick Jagger and Sly Stallone (shudder). This is actually Janice’s second book, the first one being the fairly engaging No Lifeguard on Duty: The Accidental Life of the World’s First Supermodel. The second book came across as a little forced, she must have responded to the request for more dirt and expounded a bit more on her various affairs with famous men. She also reveals her top most embarrassing modeling moments, her beauty tips, and despite the build up, barely skirts the issue of her many plastic surgeries. I am really impressed by how truly full of herself she is…I can’t decide if this is unabashed confidence or just plain annoying. Unlike her first book, (which I devoured in practically one sitting when I wasn’t prying it out of Josh’s fingertips), I couldn’t really get into this one. So she had a pedophile for a father, that’s pretty sucky, but is her salvation really yoga?
How The Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents by Julia Alvarez is a book my Mom gave to me when I was a sophomore in college. Four sisters are uprooted from their native home in South America when their doctor father becomes a target by local militia. They relocate to NY during the raging 1960’s. Once wealthy and doted on in their native country, the family has to adjust to their new found poverty in the states. The book travels backwards in time, exploring each of the sisters’ lives as they undergo a severe cultural shock. One of my favorite stories is when the oldest goes off to college and runs into a smarmy guy from the nearby boy’s dormitory. He tries to coerce her into following the sexually exploitative 60’s, but she is lost, proud and still vaguely Catholic, trying to use her English as best as she can to ward him off. The writing is really good, the kind where you go back after you’ve finished the book and reread your favorite pages.
Moving away from book for a moment, I have to give huge props to the movie, Whalerider. Oh My God. This movie is one of the best I’ve ever seen. It’s been a long time since a movie really and truly moved me. Despite winning tons of awards I don’t think this movie received nearly the attention it deserved here in the states. Here’s the basic low down: In a small New Zealand coastal village, Maori claim descent from Paikea, the Whale Rider. In every generation for more than 1000 years, a male heir born to the Chief succeeds to the title. The Chief’s eldest son, Porourangi, fathers twins – a boy and a girl. But the boy and his mother die in childbirth. The surviving girl is named Pai. Grief-stricken, her father leaves her to be raised by her grandparents. Koro, her grandfather who is the Chief, refuses to acknowledge Pai as the inheritor of the tradition and claims she is of no use to him.
Koro is blinded by prejudice and even his wife, Flowers, cannot convince him that Pai is the natural heir. The old Chief is convinced that the tribe’s misfortunes began at Pai’s birth and calls for his people to bring their 12-year-old boys to him for training. He is certain that through a grueling process of teaching the ancient chants, tribal lore and warrior techniques, the future leader of their tribe will be revealed to him. Pai secretly follows the teachings despite the belief that “girls can’t fight.”
Meanwhile, deep within the ocean, a massive herd of whales is responding, drawn towards Pai and their twin destinies. When the whales become stranded on the beach, Koro is sure this signals an apocalyptic end to his tribe.
I have never seen such an amazing reenactment of beached whales, nor have I ever seen accurate footage of what it might look like if a kid hopped on a whale and started riding it. I initially thought this movie would be a cheesy girl flick, but I assure you it is not. The movie is shot on location, the extras are local Maori people, and the music is fantastically composed by Lisa Gerard. The scene where Pai stands in front of her school during a class concert and recites her tribal history for her grandfather–who is not in attendance–was the most heartbreaking scene I’ve watched since I can remember. Do all of yourselves a huge favor and see this fantastic movie.