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Houston's Pig and Poodle Farm

Maggie has started yet another contest.  One is supposed to look around their homestead, so to speak, and give it a clever name based on some characteristic.  That's easy enough:  I live on a freeway.  While my bedroom looks out onto a normal residential neighborhood, my deck appears to sit in a plum tree that flowers late winter and whose leaves catch the sun so fiercely that you can understand why Moses might have thought the bush was on fire.  For those reasons, if I called my place because of a proximity identity, I'd call it The Freeway Tree House.  Not a bad name, but I like the one I chose several years ago based on a dream, Houston's Pig and Poodle Farm, if only in my dreams.

My back porch, only out here they call it a deck. 

This is looking the other direction towards the freeway. As pretty as it is out here, unless you're deaf (which I am from living next door to a freeway), like I started to say, unless you're deaf, it's too noisy out here to truly enjoy. It's good enough for giving the smokers a place, and I grow a few herbs.

Don't get me wrong. I loves my home, but that doesn't mean I can't dream of quieter pastures, even if not greener ones. Wait! I've had an attack of rum induced brilliance. I'll call it the "It'll Do Freeway Tree House." It'll do until the P&P Farm becomes a reality.

A Southern Reading Challenge

A new blogger acquaintance, Maggie of Maggie Reads, (she's a librarian in Mississippi) has a reading challenge going.  "It's time for our hot, sweaty summer of reading Southern Books! Are You Ready?!?

"The rules are easy: 3 Southern Setting Books by Southern Authors in 3 Months beginning May 15 through August 15! "

The three Southern books I will read this summer are (1) Mudbound by Hillary Jordan, (2) Mississippi Sissy by Kevin Sessums, and (3) Prince of Frogtown by Rick Bragg.

Just as long as I don't have to do a book report.

Say it Ain't So

Crystal's blog is going on sabbatical.  If you haven't visited Crystal, go over right now and experience Midnight Therapy With Crystal: And So I Shall!.  She is one of the wisest, funniest, prettiest, pilgrims I have met in my life.  I've known her less than a month, but have been profoundly touched by her spirituality.  I haven't met her yet I know she'll be in my life for years to come. 

Fortunately for us, she's left her favorite videos for us to get our Crystal fix for the next year while she finishes her book.  Godspeed, sister.  Let me know if there's anything I can do for you.

The Book Challenge, Part Deux

Let's go back to the Fahrenheit 451 part.  Which book would you take to heart?  I like that expression more than memorize, don't you?  Particularly in this sort of instance.  To memorize a book would become more of a passionate obsession than just an exercise of memory.

I think I was about 16 when I first read Fahrenheit 451.  I hung out with a bunch of literary types (for high school), and we read a lot of books and talked about them.  About the same time, we read Animal Farm, Brave New World, Stand on Zanzibar, Black Like Me, and many others.  As part of our discussion about Fahrenheit 451, we each chose a book that we would memorize if we were stuck in the book.  I've been trying for three days now to remember the book I would have chosen at 16.  Some of you are probably a lot closer to 16 than I am now, so you don't have to reach as far into your memory, so if you did play this little exercise when you first read F-451, can you remember your choice of book?  This is going to bug me all week.

The Book Challenge

From my friend Andante, I received the book challenge.

I am stuck inside Farenheit 451, and I must choose a book to take to heart.  I have already started memorizing my book.  I memorized these three paragraphs from my first reading.

My father and mother should have stayed in New York where they met and married and where I was born.  Instead, they returned to Ireland when I was four, my brother, Malachy, three, the twins, Oliver and Eugene, barely one, and my sister, Margaret, dead and gone.

When I look back on my childhood I wonder how I survived at all.  It was, of course, a miserable childhood: the happy childhood is hardly worth your while.  Worse than the ordinary miserable childhood is the miserable Irish childhood, and worse yet is the miserable Irish Catholic childhood.

People everywhere brag and whimper about the woes of their early years, but nothing can compare with the Irish version:  the poverty; the shiftless loquacious alcoholic father; the pious defeated mother moaning by the fire; pompous priests; bullying schoolmasters; the English and the terrible things they did to us for eight hundred long years.

Angela's Ashes by Frank McCourt

Have I ever had a crush on a fictional character?  Oh fiddle dee dee, what kind of question is that?  Rhett Butler still does it for me.

The most recent book I purchased is Me and My Baby View the Eclipse, a collection of stories by Lee Smith.

I am currently reading On Bullshit, by Harry G. Frankfurt.

If I were to be marooned on a desert isle without  television or computer and I were given the opportunity to choose five books, which five would it be? 

Lazy Man's Guide to Enlightenment by Thaddeus Golas
Mr. Palomar by Italo Calvino, in Italian or English
The Mind's I, Fantasies and Relections on Self and Soul, composed and arranged by Douglas R. Hofstadter
The Powwow Highway by David Seals
Island Survival for Dummies, author unknown

I'm supposed to pass this on to at least three other people.  Any volunteers?

Monday Evening
Brenda, of What's Up Down South has volunteered, and I volunteer Piggy and Tazzy.    The third person whom I would like to invite would be Shirazi, my most enigmatic blogger friend.  Books tell us a lot about each other.  Go ahead, you four.  Tell us about your books.  NTodd may play on a voluntary basis, but he really does have papers to grade.  Snicker.

No Place, Louisiana by Martin Pousson

This is Martin Pousson's first novel, published back in March 2002.   I didn't read it with as much of a critical eye as I did with a nosey curiosity.  I only know Martin as he's on-stage at the bar where he works.  I read his novel with as much curiosity about Martin as with what he had to say.  First novels are notorioiusly autobiographical, and this one is as well.  Maybe not the details of the story line, but these characters are real.  Their conversations were written from a young boy's memory of the details of growing up in southwest Louisiana's Cajun culture.  I learned a lot about Martin's people, and I knew a lot already having grown up next to them.

The book is written from the point of view of its two primary characters,  Louis and Nita.  They meet, marry, and doom each other to a life of misery without ever having a spark of affection for each other.  They have lived their lives as emotional cripples, unable to communicate even basic emotions.   They begin their life together as strangers and end as strangers.  Martin paints a devastatingly detailed portrait of Nita through her own thoughts.  We learn early that she hates her husband, hates her step-father, is strangely detached of emotion for her mother, blaming the lack of closeness on her step-father.  We learn about Nita and have no sympathy for her struggles.  We do not like Nita.  She is a manipulator.  She is the more dominant character in the book.  We mostly know the two children, Marc and Jo, through Nita's point of view.   This is Nita and Louis's story.  The kids were just accessories.

Without saying that Nita and Louis's son, Marc, is Gay, he is portrayed as a talented, sensitive, overachiever, with a lisp which she has surgically removed.  [Is that possible?]  In one scene, Nita walks in on Marc dancing naked to a Barbra Streisand song.   Nita is always projecting her hopes and expectations onto Marc.  I was not comfortable with Martin's implications regarding the homosexual son and dominant mother scenario, but it's a very comfortable shoe worn by Southern writers.  My discomfort comes from my experience that teaches me that it so very much more complex than that, which is negated by my own classic relationship with my mother who when told I was Gay exclaimed, "How could you do this to me?"

The darkest relationship is between Nita and her daughter Jo.  It is a tragic tale of a struggle for power between two people who were willing to fight each other to the death with both losing, one her life, the other her mind.  We never really know what Jo is thinking as she acts out her rebellion.  Mostly we watch her self-destruct in front of her mother from Nita's point of view.

I wasn't particularly happy with the ending, but I was so exhausted from these poor souls struggling in their depressing lives that I was just glad that he ended it.  Martin has another book coming out soon.  I have only one bit of advice:  for chrissake Martin, give us at least one character that we can like and who lives to the end of the damn book.  Not that I didn't like Mark, naked and twirling to Barbra Streisand and all, but this wasn't his book, was it?

You know, Martin, you left Nita out of her mind, believing that Louis killed Jo to spite her, but I believe that Nita had enough spark to pull out of that dark spot and re-invent herself.  With a person like her, none of the bad that has wrecked her plans is her fault.  She'll pick herself us and  completely rationalize herself back into the game.  What choice does she have but to keep on struggling?  The Nita's of the world don't quit.

This may not be obvious, but I do not generally review books.  Neither do I meet many authors in my daily comings and goings.  Since I was impressed and mentioned it earlier, I just thought you might like to know what I thought of the book.

Martin


Is he cute or what?  I started  his book today.  He writes well.  He ought to.  His resume says he taught writing at Rutgers.  I'm reasonably impressed.  He's gone further uptown that I have.  I'm reading his book tonight.  I'll give a full book report by Monday.

I went by my neighborhood bar, The Edge, located in the Castro, for lunch today, hoping Martin would be working.  I don't go regularly or often enough to have the bartenders schedules down.  If I did you might want to worry about me.  I do go often enough that they know my drink.  He was working.  I offered my newly purchased copy of No Place, Louisiana for his autograph.  He was charmingly demure with the attention he received because of my gesture of seeking his autograph.  Before today I liked Martin.  After today, I really like Martin.  I hope I have the opportunity to get to know him better.  Maybe I can invite him to speak at my book club.  Damn, I don't have a book club.  I don't have a book club TODAY.  I bet I can have one by tomorrow.  Huntly, who kinda sorta manages a bookstore for one of the large independent bookstores, Books, Inc., suggested maybe they should sponsor a reading by Martin.   Cool, huh?

I'm off to read now.  Oh, one last thing.  Anyone who wants a Christmas card from me, please send me your surface mail address.  I already know where some of you live, so you can run but you can't hide.  The rest of you send me your addresses.  Since I'm not doing Christmas at home this year, I'm sending out blessings and wishes that ordinarily you have to come to my house to get. 

Back atcha later.