When the Movie Is Better Than the Book

Let’s be honest: the book is always better than the movie. Directors never get it quite how we pictured it in our heads, or they go completely off-book altogether and we walk out of the theatre thinking, “How was that based on the book I read?” In twenty years of reading books and seeing the movie adaptations of as many of them as come to theatres, I’ve recently found only the second movie I prefer to the book: the third part of The Maze Runner trilogy, The Death Cure.

Needless to say, spoilers below!

I expected the movie to at least keep some semblance of the book, which revolved around a counter-revolution, asking readers: in a dystopian world facing a ruthless force that hoards all the resources, how much resistance is too much resistance?

There was none of that in the movie.

The counter-resistance was brushed over. A contrived cliffhanger from the previous installment drove most of the plot. A lot of logic (and lack thereof) in the zombie-infested, plague-stricken, uncivilized world was taken for granted. It was a mash of all the things that make us think books are better than their movie adaptations. But amidst the action for the sake of action, there was a shining light: Teresa.

Where the movie almost completely pushed aside the “how much resistance is too much resistance” theme, it replaced it with making Teresa a real person. Movie Teresa is a much deeper, more interesting character than Book Teresa. Movie Teresa is intelligent, clever, and wants to do what’s right, and she recognizes that sometimes, she doesn’t know how. Movie Teresa knows her limits, what she will and won’t do, what she will and won’t tolerate. Movie Teresa is motivated by logic, and it was refreshing to watch after Book Teresa (and the previous two Movie Teresas) seemed to be motivated by taking it on herself to screw up the plot for any reason, even if there seemed to be no reason for her, as a “fully-developed character,” to do so.

It wasn’t until seeing Wonder Woman last July that I realized how flat and one-dimensional our movie heroines are, and now, it’s all I can notice. The Maze Runner as a franchize didn’t have a lot going for it in terms of being likely to give a decent amount of characterization to its female characters. It’s made up of action movies, a genre that by its nature relies on plot over character, and is typically regarded as a “manly” genre. A huge majority of its characters were men, so the odds that if only one–or even half–of the characters was/were fleshed out, it wouldn’t be the two women, three if you include the main antagonist. So for what it did, especially in an area of art where strong female characters of any kind are desperately needed, I give it major points.

Normally, I’m a purist about sticking to the book. But when the book drops the ball on writing badass female characters who make themselves the subject of the story instead of an object of the plot, the movie can throw the plot off an exploding skyscraper for all I care if it can pick up the slack. So sure, Teresa was only one character out of a dozen in a wholly plot-driven narrative, but to me, the sacrifice was worth it.

Personalize Your Holiday Gift Giving

When people hear the word “art” they think of paintings, photographs, sculptures, music, or maybe movies.  But not paper.  People commonly think of paper as a mode to transport art, or a medium that art is displayed through, but they don’t think of the paper itself as art.  Cards a common form of a present to loved ones, whether they are store bought or handmade.  This holiday season make cards extra special by creating the whole thing by hand,  even the paper.

The kerrytown bookfest in Ann Arbor teaches people that paper itself is creative and can be a form of art.  There were stands that were dedicated to making paper.  The paper that these stands were selling looked vintage, like the paper you would see a medieval letter written on.  Each piece was different and they all varied in colors, size, and even texture.  The texture, thickness, and color of the paper depends on what it is made out of.  Paper can be made out of different materials; the easiest material to make paper out of is other paper.  But it can also be made out of leaves, grass, flowers, or even a wasps nest.  Keep this in mind while making a card, and use the materials and colors that the recipient will love.  This uniqueness will translate well into a nice holiday card for a loved one, because they will see all of the effort and love put into it and appreciate it even more.

The people who worked at the Kerrytown bookfest were so passionate about there craft of making paper, they wanted to show and teach every person that worked by how to do what they did so that they could share in their happiness with this overlooked artform.  These people were more enthusiastic about their craft than most other professionals are about there job, and that is because they make paper because they loved it, and it is something they are truly passionate about.  It is no longer a necessity to make paper from scratch, it is much easier and less time consuming to go to the store and buy whatever size and color paper you want than to make it yourself.  But the paper we all buy at the store lacks the uniqueness of the paper that the people at the kerrytown bookfest put into their paper.  This passion and compassion will come through a handmade Christmas card, the loved one it’s made for will love the gift made with love.

Link to learn how to make paper:   https://www.wikihow.com/Make-Paper

Reader’s Choice

Do you solemnly swear that this was your choice and your choice alone to read the content of this post that hereby follows? The author claims absolutely no responsibility for your choice to continue to let your eyeballs fall on the letters she put on this page. She would like to say that she did not write this with you in particular in mind. 

Image via gyphy.com

I’m joking, obviously! Of course, I wrote this with an audience in mind – you, the readers of Arts at Michigan! But, in no way, have my words hypnotized you to read them (that would be amazing if they could!), and in no way, am I forcing you to agree with what I’m writing. You can exit the page at any time.

Still there? Good. 

This idea of “warning” your readers about bawdy content and reminding them of their choice to read it is centuries old. For example, Chaucer famously does so in the prologue to The Miller’s Tale – undoubtedly, the raunchiest story in The Canterbury Tales. (Let’s just say there are a few exposed rears that make appearances throughout the tale).

The narrator of the Canterbury Tales, generally named as “Geoffrey,” writes in the prologue,

 And therefore I beg every gentle creature, for the love of God, not to judge that I tell it thus out of evil intent, but only because I must truly repeat all their tales, whether they are better or worse, or else tell some of my matter falsely. And therefore whoever wishes not to hear it, let them turn the leaf over and choose another tale; for they shall find plenty of historical matters, great and small, concerning noble deeds, and morality and holiness as well. Do not blame me if you choose incorrectly. The Miller is a churl, you know well, and so was the Reeve, and the two of them spoke of ribaldry. Think well, and do not blame me, and people should not take a game seriously as well.

Chaucer himself reminds his readers that they have the choice to read the tale or flip the page to a new tale or perhaps to close the book altogether. He renounces all responsibility for the reader’s choice. While some might call this a sell-out, his attempt to build a safety net for himself is commendable. Once the publication circulates into the public, the author himself has no control over who reads his work and what their specific taste in literature is like. It’s actually one of the smartest things that an author can do!

Image via amazon.com

Another example comes from Daniel DeFoe, who writing the 1724 book, Roxana, about a mistress who “thinks herself a whore,” prefaced with the disclaimer, “If there are any parts in her story, which being obliged to relate a wicked action, seem to describe it too plainly; all imaginable care has been taken to keep clear of indecencies, and immodest expressions; and ’tis hoped you will find nothing to prompt a vicious mind, but every where much to discourage and expose it. Scenes of crime can scarce be represented in such a manner, but some may make a criminal use of them; but when vice is painted in its low-prized colours, ’tis not to make people in love with it, but to expose it; and if the reader makes a wrong use of the figures, the wickedness is his own.” 

DeFoe here echoes Chaucer’s “do not blame me” stance, and blames the reader for misinterpreting and misjudging the words put before them. Again, if they are offended by what they read, either it is their mind that is in the gutter or their error for not reading close enough to the meaning and psychology lurking between the lines.

But should these authors have to preface their work? Is not life itself often times dirtier, more violent, and more disturbing than anything we could read on paper? All material we read (other than schoolbooks) is consumed because we chose to read it. Maybe a friend recommended it to us. Perhaps it was praised by a critic. Maybe we were just intrigued by its cover. If we come to a part that doesn’t fit our fancy or unnerves us, we the readers are under no obligation to finish it, or indeed, read it ever again.

I’ve been wondering why books of today don’t come with these “trigger warnings” and “disclaimers” that they once used to. As a writer myself, I’m glad that I don’t have to preface my work. I wrote it because I wanted to. I wrote what came out of my head. I shouldn’t have to apologize for that. But then, why do other creative minds out there – inventors of video games and film – why must they label their products as PG or M or Explicit Content?

Image via primusdatabase.com

Even musical artists must warn their followers of explicit language, while no book I know ever has had to apologize for swearing. What’s so different about books, I wonder? And how did the Chaucer tradition of “don’t blame the author” fall out of style?

What’s your take on the issue? Should authors have to warn readers of their content? 

Romance, Here I Come

So I know I talked about Jane the Virgin a couple of weeks ago, but there was an important fact about the show that I forgot to mention.

Besides the million other things that I love about the show, one fact that I’ve always found comforting is that Jane aspires to be a writer. Though she has a degree in teaching, English specifically, her dream is to be a writer. And she actively pursues that dream, oftentimes over her romantic interests – right now, she’s in a creative writing cohort in graduate school.

But this wasn’t all that impressed me about her. To be honest, stories about writers are dime a dozen. For some reason, writers love to write about writers. Call it vanity, but it’s true. No, it wasn’t the fact that Jane was an inspiring writer. It was the fact that she’s an aspiring romance writer.

And guess what? No one says anything about it. Nothing. Her advisor doesn’t call her writing silly. Her mom doesn’t wonder why she doesn’t write a different genre. None of her romantic interests has ever questioned that maybe romance writing is not actually writing, that it’s not serious writing.

Nope. Nada. Nein. Jane is, and always will be, an unapologetic romance writer. And that shouldn’t actually be surprising. But it totally is.

Although I won’t name names, I will say that one time, I got an interesting critique back on a short story. It was, in a way, a romance, but a fabricated one. It wasn’t about love, it was about obsession, and it was meant as a thoughtful questioning of what is the difference between those two. But, in short, yes, it was about a relationship, this one between a man and a woman. But the critique? I remember words like “not feeling it” and “the vibe is wrong,” though this is probably also partially from my poor memory. But one that I do remember? “I don’t think I’m your intended audience.”  

Intended audience or not, does it really matter? Does it matter that my writing was borderline romance? Does it matter if I talked about love? Does it matter if the center of the story was a relationship?

I remember, even though that story was definitely a tough critique, one of my harder ones, that’s what hurt me the most. This person, whatever gender, didn’t take my story seriously enough because automatically it was categorized as romance. And because of it, I couldn’t get a serious critique about it, and it was harder to see what I could change to make the story better without thinking about the “intended audience” and whether I was pleasing that audience.

I was thinking about this in part because it’s Valentine’s Day this weekend, partially because Jane the Virgin was about her romance this week, and partially because I’ve been bingeing a very explicitly romance series.

But you know what? Despite the fact that it’s Valentine’s Day and I’m technically alone, instead of being lame, I’m going to the poetry reading at Literati on Saturday by Amber Tamblyn and then I’m going to do yoga with my best friends. You know what else I’m gonna do? I’m going to watch my romance movies, my romance TV shows, my romance everything. And I’m going to love it and not be ashamed.

Oh, and you know what else? I’m going to write romance. Unapologetic, unabashed, fantastic, life-changing romance. And you’re going to like it.

2015 Favorites: Books

Favorite Books Read in 2015

In order, as pictured, from left to right and going down the typewriter-sitting pile: 

Speak – Louisa Hall.

Gold Fame Citrus – Claire Vaye Watkins.

Station Eleven – Emily St. John Mandel.

Bluets – Maggie Nelson.

The Ocean at the End of the Lane – Neil Gaiman. 

The Remains of the Day – Kazuo Ishiguro. 

Let the Great World Spin – Colum McCann.

A Visit from the Goon Squad – Jennifer Egan. 

We the Animals – Justin Torres. 

Bats of the Republic – Zachary Thomas Dodson. 

Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell – Susanna Clarke. 

So those are my favorites of 2015! I’m still working on finishing the last two, both of which are quite large and yet filled with such goodness that I want to savor every page. It was a year full of wonderful books and surprises and I hope next year will bring much more.

Let me know in the comments what some of your favorites were this year!

The Truth About Stories

This gif shows Disney's Belle slide on a book store ladder from one side of a bookshelf to another.

I never thought I’d like reading stories about other people’s lives. Fiction was fine, but reality seemed boring and uneventful. When I was younger, my mom read The Little House on the Prairie series to me, but that was about as close as I got to reading a book about a real person. It wasn’t until later that I realized the beauty of someone else’s story.

The first memoir I read on my own was written by a teacher I used to have. The book was called Signs of Life, and for a while everyone in my school was reading it. I remember getting calls from other students asking me what chapter I was on or whether or not I had finished yet. I attended readings with friends at the local Borders (*wipes tear away*). We talked about how impressive it was to know an author, to know a real person who had successfully published a book. I thought it was special to be let in on a story like that, but I assumed my real admiration for the book was due to the fact that I knew the author.

Then, another teacher of mine proved me wrong. He suggested that I read The Year of Magical Thinking and Bone Black: Memoirs of Girlhood. I was hesitant to take on a memoir written by someone I didn’t know, but two memoirs? Two stranger’s lives? That was downright scary. I didn’t care about those authors. I didn’t want to know their stories. What could have happened in their lives to warrant my attention? Well, after finishing both of those memoirs, I realized my answer. What could have happened in their lives? A lot. Why should I care about their stories? They’re great stories.

Since then, I’ve read many books about other people’s lives. I find myself going to the bookstore and perusing aisles I never thought I’d wander into. I still think it can be hard to be interested in a complete stranger’s life, but I take baby steps. I read books that contain an element of memoir, personal narrative, nonfiction, or autobiography. Sometimes it can be hard to know where these books fall, but if I’m not sure, I just try to read them and not to worry about it. Many books walk a fine line, but that doesn’t mean one is necessarily better than another.

So, some days I’ll pick up a book that can’t be defined very well. Other days I’ll try something that can. I’ve read David Sedaris’s Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim to experience a bit of his life. Currently, I’m reading Modern Romance, and its combination of social science, humor, and nonfiction makes it really accessible and fun to read. I read books by authors who, for whatever reason, I can pretend I know a little. I read Amy Poehler’s, Yes Please, because I had watched Parks and Recreation for years. I read one of my favorite YouTube star Tyler Oakley’s memoir, Binge, because I’d seen him online and it was cool he was from Michigan. These little connections helped me care more, but I’m realizing I don’t need them as much as I used to. Maybe not now, but soon I’ll feel confident enough to read I Am Malala, Unbroken, or some other critically acclaimed memoir or personal narrative that has been hovering at the top of my Goodreads list for months.

I’m excited, because I know one thing very important: everyone has a story.