The Bell Jar.....Review

Months and months ago, my lovely cousin Amy started a book reading challenge that I have fallen completely into.  The main reason is that most of the books A) are good, and B) they're not entirely crap.  Which leads me to the March book.

The Bell Jar - by Sylvia Plath

Before I started reading the book, all I knew about this book was that every woman who hates some part of men for whatever tiniest reason known only to themselves, had read this book.  While I know that as a man, I can A) never truly relate to the issues that the book raises and B) anything that I say will probably be regarded as me being a chauvinist pig.  My answer to all that for anyone who might feel that way is get the fuck over it.  That being said, this is my review of The Bell Jar.

The first and wonderful thing that I loved about the novel was the authors ability to transport me from 2012 to the 1960s.  I loved that I felt like I was right there by the characters sides throughout.  As the novel wore on, I realized how much I appreciated the attention to detail in regards to every little thing.  From the streets and offices of New York to the therapist offices and treatment centers.  But not just that, though.  Every little item that stroked a memory in Esther's mind seemed to stroke one in mine.  Now as for Esther, our heroine, she started to bother me about 10 pages in. (This is where I will become a pig, to some).

Maybe it's my upbringing or my youthful adulthood or my own acknowledgement of my personal issues, but all I could think about when thinking about Esther's "issues" was get the fuck over it.  Seriously, get the fuck over it.  I know that you don't recognize your issues until you can move past them, but Esther always had "something."  She was an excellent writer who didn't believe she belonged where she was.  I know she wasn't a whore like her friends.  She wasn't rich like her bitchy friends.  None of us are.  The difference was that those people knew who they were, and she didn't.  I get that.  But seriously, get the fuck over it and move on.

I was personally amazed(?)/appalled(?) by how men treated women in the 1960s when they couldn't handle their shit.  Seriously, who the fuck submits their wives to electrocution?  That shit bothered me a lot.  What type of a man can't deal with their own shit on their own time and help their wife out?  Maybe it's my upbringing.  I don't know.  This book bothered me a lot because all I heard was that little fuck from "Catcher in the Rye" the whole time, just in a female voice.  I guess when you have to deal with social expectations and family/personal ones that are contrary to each other, your life will be crazy.

In these modern times, I see a book of the same material being written would not have the effect it should have.  Maybe it's because more people whine about their lives and many of us are desensitized to it all.  The Bell Jar is a book that should resonate with any young woman, so long as you are upper middle class.  It does matter in the realm of literature history because it was the first major piece, in my opinion, that made every young girl who read it understand that it's okay to say you aren't happy and that you don't need therapy.  It's okay to be lost at times.  It's okay to acknowledge that you have problems. But what is most important, is that you need to get the fuck over it.

If I were to rename the Catcher in the Rye it would most definitely be "White People Problems."  If I were to rename The Bell Jar, it would be "White Women Problems."  Thank you Amy for making me have to read this shit.  My US Women's History professor would be proud.

That is if she were ever happy that a man did anything.

Family time...Happiness Day 7

While my profile picture on facebook is the "Greatest Profile Picture" EVER!!!, the following story and picture makes me laugh every time I see it.

 
A while back, when Grandmother on my mom's side was turning 85, we had a small family get together at her house in Shreveport, LA.  It was a great time.  Many of the people in my family I hadn't seen in let's say 10 years.  Many of my cousins will tell you all about how cute and adorable I was as a child.  Great.  What happened in those 10 years was awesome.  You see, I'm the 2nd youngest in the family rank of cousins.  #6 in your program, but #1 in your heart.  First is J IV or James the Fourth.  Then comes the "Three from '73."  That's Amy, Anne, and David.  Then comes Tim, Me and last but not least Adele.

I  couldn't tell you the last time I saw any of my cousins.  I had barely seen much of my brother since he went to college and I left for Missouri.  When I went to college, I went a little crazy with the rebellious looks since I was from a military family.  Always clean cut and such.  Not any more.  I love this story from when I landed.

First off, my mother, brother, grandmother, and Aunt Catherine came to pick me up from the airport.  As I walked down the terminal, I noticed my family.  They did not notice me, at all.  Then I saw my brother start to laugh and snicker.  At that point, the eyes on the rest of the group started to grow and then it was all smiles and love for my arrival.  You see, I hadn't cut my hair since the Superbowl that year, when many of my fraternity brothers had been giving me a hard time.  I had also shaved it bald as a pledge.  These were two crazy extremes that I had never ventured with before.  It was awesome.

When I got to the house, we said our hellos and then I had to run upstairs for a little bit to relax from the travel.  Well, all of the sudden the door rings and here comes my father and sister all the way from Mississippi (they had been in Alexandria, La visiting my other Grandmother) to stop by and say hello and with my Grandmother a happy birthday. (My parents have been divorced since I was like 6 months old).  It was a sudden surprise, but a great one.  My dad hadn't seen me, David, or Sarah together at one time in a long, long time.  Or when all of us were young adults.  You should have seen his face when I appeared.  Oh wait you can:

I'm sure the first thing my dad was thinking was, "Is this my son?  What the hell happened to him?"  Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you.  I'm the ginger in the family.  While there have been others that have been added, I'm the original.  Look at the surprise on his face.  It's an awesome picture.  We then got one of the three Grimes kids with our Dad. (The picture got wet a long time ago, but there we all are.)

So back to the story of the great family photo.  At one point the only people in the house were my Aunt Catherine and Uncle Roy, Grandmother, my Mom and Dad, and the three siblings....and then it all broke loose.  I was using the phone in the corner calling my roommates back in Missouri to let them know that I made it okay. My cousin Amy then walked by me and said hello and looked away.  I replied with a "Hi Amy."  She looked at me funny for a couple of seconds and then gave that gasped, hand over mouth, eyes wide expression that I was somewhat used to.  I thought it was funny.  She still remembers this kid.



(I'm so getting killed for putting this picture up.  That's Amy behind me.)

Instead of this lovely young man, I showed up looking like the previous picture.  After she realized who I was, we all laughed.  Then, the doorbell rang and I went to answer it.  I opened the door and the lady and husband at the door looked at me surprised and then apologized for they thought they had the wrong door.  I looked at them and said "Aunt Elizabeth, you're at the right house."  That's her above in the picture as well.  They gave me the same look as Amy and laughed and came inside.  Everyone else in the family, the story goes along the same way.  But those three always stick out to me the most.

That weekend was so much fun.  I got to reconnect to my cousins in a manner that I never knew before.  We told stories and laughed.  We watched the older ones hang out with their kids.  We all drank and drank the next day.  We all told lies and laughed.  My favorite lie is the story of how I ran my cousin Tim over with the riding lawn mower.  They say it's true, but I don't remember it happening. (Love you Tim.)

We all got together on the last day to take family pictures.  All the parents.  And then the grandchildren together.  Then the individual families together.  It was a so much fun.  In the process, this awesome picture was taken.  You see, I'm kind of a clown.  Either that or I have impeccable timing.  We were all lined up in a row from youngest to oldest and we all smiled.  Then we had to take another one.  This one I timed perfectly.  Here it is:



(Adele, Me, Tim, David, Anne, Amy, and J IV)

This picture makes me laugh every time I see it.  It reminds me of part of my family that I miss.  We got together years ago and it was fun.  Tim even made this picture his profile picture on facebook. That's a great honor and I'll take it.  I told you before, I live out there on the edge and these are the things that I like to do.  I can't wait for the next reunion.  I can't wait for something random to happen again.