Sunday, February 28, 2010

Ideal Banking

Am I more satisfied with a bank when all runs smoothly online? You bet your penny-saving pants I am. Let's face it - I haven't seen the inside of a bank in eight months .... and I'm likin' it. I can deposit and withdraw through an ATM, transfer and check my balance online, all of which constitute most of my banking activity, and thank God for direct deposit. I don't like waiting behind the eighty-year-old who takes five decades just to fill out a deposit slip (What's up with the slow pace, old timer? You don't have all the time in the world. Get to steppin'); I'm tired of the banker asking me how I want my cash (Straight up. Whatever. I'm not selling crack); and I'm tired of that cheeky little teller calling me by name like we've been buds for the past three years.

I don't know. Maybe I'm just anti-social. But I have no illusions about my relationship with the bank. They're nice to your face, then they screw you out of money behind your back. And there's no avoiding it. I'm not about to hide my stash in the backyard. This is 2010, people.

I like where I stand with the bank right now. We have a mutual disregard for each other, and a mutual recognition that we need each other. The less I interact with them, the easier it is to forget how much money they're costing me. I know, I know, I should be spewing, "Screw the bank! It's my money!" But at the end of the day, I still have my dough in their safe, and it honestly doesn't bother me (Shhh!). What does bother me is that cheeky little teller thinking I want customer service. No! I just want my money. You are a piggy bank. Nothing else. I want you to be as invisible as a piggy-bank. House my money and I'll come dump it out of you when I please. I don't need your stupid Dum-dums. They might shut my kid up for five minutes, but I know it's all a conspiracy. Damn you and your candy, your popcorn, your annoying white smiles, and your manager who comes from behind his marble desk to ask if I need anything (another account, perhaps?) No! I just want my money! .... On second thought, can you find some solution to my dilemma? I want to be as unaware of your existence as possible. How do we accomplish that?

Pssst! .... online banking.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Critique: Water For Elephants by Sara Gruen


So, my bestie and I decided to form a book group. I know, cool, right? You can join, too, if you should so choose. Just hit me up and we'll get to crackin'. Anyhoo, the first official read was Money by Martin Amis, but I'll get to that in my next post. Delicious, by the way, but will require a little more critical thought on my part. Thus, I have decided to critique our second book, Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen. I've had immediate reactions to this puppy.

So, Sara, dawg (Sorry, I've been watching too much Idol), it was okay for me. I've got a few small-ish pieces of advice for you -

Number One: DON'T USE PRESENT TENSE! It does not make you cool and hip and different. I know, I know, it seems like a good idea at first, but all you're doing is hindering your talent and creativity. This is the deal: a great story is told in retrospect. It's more believable. There are some creative back roads to present tense, but I did not see them. In reality, the present is hard to follow; everything is whimsical. Most authors use past tense, because that's how we tell stories to other people, and because in the present, we can't delete uninteresting details. For example, one minute, I find out my mother dies, then the next minute I have to pee. You can't put the latter piece of information into your book, so you're forced to splice up the interesting stuff into "flashes." Do you catch my "hindering your talent and creativity drift?" There's so much you can't do, because you're writing in present tense.

I know Jacob is an old man having "dreams" about his past - thus present tense is sort of necessary - but this is my solution:

Number Two: Don't have Old Jacob "dreaming" about his past. The flashback is cliche. It doesn't happen like that in real life, and it's just plain typical. I would prefer Old Jacob telling the nurse or the new-age circus guy about his heyday, a much less annoying cliche. If you want my honestly honest opinion, though, I would axe Old Jacob. I found myself bummed when I'd hit a nursing home chapter. I hate to say it, because I think Old Jacob is light years more interesting than Young Jacob, but Old Jacob doesn't strengthen the story, which brings me to....

Number Three: Your protagonist are B-O-R-I-N-G. Does this guy do anything naughty without feeling guilty? He is a geeber, for real. The worst part of the book: when Marlena and Jacob have sex. She's basically raping him. Marlena is supposed to be this sweet girl, and you have her doing everything. No way in hell am I leaving my paranoid schizophrenic (and much more experienced, might I add) husband to have sex with a virgin (pretty much). I think in reality, Jacob is a queen. No, but really, I think you being a woman and all, ain't helpin' your character's case. And so ....

Number Four: Female writers, do not take on male protagonists ... in first person. Even if you had chopped your name down to initials (ahem, JK Rowling), I would still be perplexed by Jacob. He has all the traits of a woman, except for morning wood. I like how you added that, by the way, just in case I forgot he was a he, proving my point even further. Hardly any male author would insert that into their novel. It's intriguing, yes, to speak for a boy, but it doesn't work. It is impossible for a woman to write like a man. Period. I don't wanna catch you doing that again, sister.

Number Five: Your Depression-era language is a little pushed, slightly off. (The adjectives are killin' me, smalls.) I'll leave it at that. And, I actually think your language dilemma has mostly to do with the whole male-female crux.


Strongpoints: You paint a pretty picture. You think about details. I can visualize everything. I love the environment you threw your characters into. I'm excited about the movie?

Nonetheless, I give you two stars for cognizant yet boring writing.

Signing off