Book of the Week: Cannery Row

This book review is sponsored by the taxis outside my window that feel the need to honk at all hours of the night.  This is a source of great displeasure for me, and it has caused me to seriously consider purchasing the waterballoon launcher I currently have sitting in my Amazon cart.

I doubt that John Steinbeck requires any substantive introduction. Anyone who has taken any kind of English course has been exposed to Steinbeck. I am revisiting Cannery Row, and have found that I appreciate it more the second time around (in a non-modern lit course setting). I could go on about themes, morals, and Steinbeck's underlying symbolism, but I find all of these things to be a detraction from the simple beauty that is a John Steinbeck novel.

Cannery Row follows the townspeople of Cannery Row and centers around a group of misfits led by Mack. Mack and his misfits have frequent encounters with other characters, most notably Doc and Mr Chong.  No one in the row lives in luxury, in fact they live in downright poverty.  A couple lives in an old pipe fitting, and the boys live in a fish meal storage shed affectionately called the Palace Flophouse. However, all of the inhabitants coexist in a place where each knows their role, they accept these roles, and are weighed on the basis of their character.  Although things do not always run smoothly, it seems as though there is always something to look forward to in the Row.

Especially now, I think we can all relate to a longing to live in a place like Cannery Row.  Mack was able to buy an exorbitant amount of booze and other goods from the local market by bartering with frogs.  I highly doubt the guy in the dairy downstairs (who always asks me if I've changed my hair for some reason) would accept frogs as an acceptable form of payment for Milk Duds.  As idealistic as this book may seem though, there are many dark moments interlaced with the main story, and a few are downright shocking. I find the chapter about the gopher to be particularly sad, my dad scarred me with a video of gophers in the desert a while back, I still haven't fully recovered.

I give this book 4.5 honking taxis out of 5.  Everyone should have some Steinbeck under their belt, and this is probably my favourite of his works. 

One Year in New Zealand

I have officially spent slightly over one year in New Zealand now.  I have this socially awkward tendency to give out advice, I honestly think it's because my mom made me watch a lot of Dr. Phil in my late teens.  At any rate, I have compiled a short list of things that I have learned in New Zealand:

1. New Zealanders (Kiwis) speak English but it is not the same English we speak in Utah.  They don't pronounce their r's and they have a gajillion slang words like:
• togs (swimsuit)
• whinge (complain)
• scull (drink something quickly, chug)
• drop-kick (a useless partner, usually a boyfriend)
• mate (friends)
• biscuit (cookies)
• dunny (toilet/drop pot)
• sparky (electrician)
• 
  
  Despite this, I sill wish I had a kiwi accent sometimes, it's pretty sweet as.
2. Things in New Zealand are expensive, fact of life.  I find myself complaining about it often but it doesn't change things, if you need it you pay the price. Kind of like how I paid $25.00 for a bottle of OPI nail polish, I have needs (sorry Mike).
3. Weather is unpredictable, at least in Auckland.  If Tamati the weatherman says there is going to be sun, you should still bring your umbrella.  
4. I have made the best friends in New Zealand.  Nothing makes a completely foreign place feel like home more than friends do.  I have had the pleasure of meeting some of the nicest, most welcoming people in New Zealand.  Without them I probably would have gone home already.
5. Everyone should see New Zealand at some point in their life, especially Fiordland, it is absolutely breathtaking.
   
   
   
   

Book of the week: Me Talk Pretty One Day

I am not usually one to indulge myself in brief but explicit glimpses into other people's personal lives...who am I kidding, I rarely miss an episode of Jersey Shore, and have a strong, unexplainable desire to keep up with the Kardashians.  Fortunately, David Sedaris's witty banter is far less shameful and yet still as intriguing as my other nosey habits.

Me Talk Pretty One Day, is cleverly written and provides a vision of family life that is mostly relateable.  This book has many laugh out loud moments along with a disturbing and explicit description of collecting one's toenails and garbage then selling it to the local art museum. 

Here's a morsel to wet your palette...I will set the scene:

David is taking a French class and the students are attempting to answer a question about Easter in French:

"The Italian nanny was attempting to answer the teachers latest question when the Moroccan student interrupted, shouting "Excuse me, What is an Easter?"
It would seem that despite having grown up in a Muslim country, she would have heard it mentioned once or twice, but no. "I mean it," she said, "I have no idea what you people are talking about."
The teacher called upon the rest of us to explain.
The Poles led the charge to the best of their ability. "It is," said one, "a party for the little boy of god who call his self Jesus and... oh shit." She faltered and her fellow country man came to her aid.
"He call his self Jesus and then he die one day on two... morsels of... lumber."
The rest of the class jumped in, offering bits of information that would have given the pope an aneurysm.
"He die one day and then he go above of my head to live with your father."
"He weared of himself the long hair and after he die. the first day he come back here for to say hello to the peoples, he nice the Jesus."

I give this 3.5 apple slices dipped in peanut butter out of 5, the book was good but I got a bit tired of hearing about France, kind of like how you get tired of reading about New Zealand...yes, we get it, it's amazing, and we're all SUPER jealous. *_*