The One Time the Book Wasn't Better

      You have to believe me when I say that it was physically painful for me to write the above title. As I said in my previous post, books are always better than movie adaptions. Always. Always, always always.

     But, my friends, there is an exception to every rule. And this exception is the TV show Pretty Little Liars.

     This melodramatic, poorly acted teen-drama is based off of the Pretty Little Liars book series written by Sara Shepard. There are fourteen Pretty Little Liar books, plus two companion books. I've only read the first four books.

     I read the books because my friend lent them to me. These four books make a complete story-arc, however at the conclusion of the fourth book there are still unanswered questions.

     I like the Pretty Little Liars books. They are certainly no works of literature, but they are entertaining. They are fast-paced and suspenseful; the kind of books that you start reading after breakfast and finish the same night, curled up in bed. The type of book that you for fun and because, for whatever reason, you just have to know what happens to those silly but strangely lovable characters.

     So as much as I wanted to know who killed Alison DiLaurentis, I stopped at book four. Why? Because I started watching the TV show and, for whatever reason, could not stop.

     I became addicted to the show; the cliffhanger endings to each episode kept me coming back every Tuesday night. But why didn't I keep  reading the books?

     The first reason that comes to mind is sheer laziness. My friend only has the first four books, so I'd have to make the effort to get off my butt and get the other books. And why do that when it would be much easier to watch the plot unfold on TV?

     But as I think about it, I realize that laziness cannot possibly be the answer. If I had really wanted to finish the series, I would have happily gone to the library or coughed up the money for the next few PLL novels. Rather, the reason I did not finish the books is that I was not missing anything.

     As I mentioned in my previous post, the book To Kill a Mockingbird is superior to the movie adaptation because the beauty of the prose is missing. There is no play of syntax in the TKAM movie, but there are also no great syntactic moments in the Pretty Little Liars novels. Not to say Sara Shepard is a bad writer, but she is certainly no Harper Lee. Her books are entertainment, not literary revolutions. And for whatever reason, I find the TV show more entertaining than the books.

     Why the TV show is more entertaining than the books, I'm still not sure. Maybe it's because I am able to find humor in bad acting and bad screenwriting, while mediocre prose just makes me cringe. Maybe its just because Wren's British accent sounds better on TV than in my head. Whatever the reason, Pretty Little Liars is the first (and most likely only) time I was drawn more to the movie/TV adaptation than the book.

     But other than Pretty Little Liars, books always win.

     Always.

A Few Thoughts on Turning Books into Scripts

     A couple months ago, I was sitting in physics when I noticed a nearly-dictionary-sized book resting on the binder of the girl sitting across from me.

     "Watcha reading?" I asked the book's owner.

     "Les Mis," she said, "I want to read it before the movie comes out."

     Sound the sirens, everyone, books have invaded Hollywood. Or, rather, screenwriters have invaded libraries and bookstores, stealing ideas from paper instead of using that thing called "originality" to come up with interesting movie plots.

     In truth, though, it's been happening for as long as movies have been made. Gone With the Wind, The Godfather, Schindler's List, The Lord of the Rings Trilogy. Google "Best Movies of All Time" and you'll find that quite a few of them were based on books. Even the recent zombie-apocolypse-romance movie, Warm Bodies, is based off of a book by the same title.

     For as long as I can remember, I have always been uncomfortable with the idea of making books into movies. I have always felt that doing so shows a lack of originality on the part of the screenwriter and laziness on the part of those who would rather watch the movie than read the book.

     I think the only reason the laziness aspect annoys me is because the movie is never as good as the book. Never. Ever. Never ever ever. (Well, never except for one book series, but I'll get to that later.)

     Why is it that the book is always better?

     I used to blame the defects on the obvious things. This character wasn't included, they took out my favorite part, or so-and-so is supposed to be blonde but they made her a brunette (yes, I am directly referring to how Annabeth in the movie version of The Lightening Thief was not blonde, a detail honestly ruined the movie for me, even though there were a lot of other serious faults. But I digress.)

     Yet I have come to realize that it is not always the parts that the screenwriters leave out, or the characters they tweak that makes the movies inferior. Some of those changes can even be forgiven, if one considers time and casting limitations. (But only some changes; Annabeth's hair can never be forgiven.)

     Rather, the reason (at least for me) that books are always better, is that the beauty of the language is lost. There are just things that can be done with the written word that cannot be done on the big screen.

     I think the best way for me to explain myself is to give you an example. Here is an excerpt from To Kill a Mockingbird:

  

      Just look at that. That lovely syntactic jump from one paragraph to another, where Mrs. Merriweather unknowingly completes Scout's unfinished thought while simultaneously displaying her hypocrisy. The irony and genius of it all makes me embarrassingly happy. I could go on for awhile about this passage, but I'll save that for another post.

     For now, back to my point. And the point is that you cannot have ingenious syntactic paragraph  jumps in a movie.

     They made a movie out of To Kill a Mockingbird. It was a fantastic movie and it won many awards and it changed many lives. But there is one thing missing in that movie, and that one thing is Harper Lee's writing.

     I guess, in the grand scheme of things, Harper Lee's writing is not the most important part of the book. The most important part of the book is the story itself and that story's themes. But, when you read the book and then watch the movie (like I did), it just seems like something is missing in the movie.

     And that something is the prose.

     Is it unfair for me to judge movies like this? Perhaps. If I had seen To Kill a Mockingbird the movie before reading the book, then I no doubt would have found it more impressive. As I watched the movie, I acknowledged that it was a great representation of the book, was well-written and well-acted, but I still found myself preferring the book.

      Maybe this is just The Curse of the Lit Nerd. Maybe I'm just crazy and word-obsessed. But the prose will always beat out the cinematography.

     After seeing Les Miserables with my parents, I was talking to my mom about how much I enjoyed the movie.

     "That was one of the best movies I've ever seen," I said, wiping my eyes (for the rest of the day, I could barely even think about that movie without tearing up), "I can't imagine how good the book is. I really want to read it now."

     Maybe, just maybe, it isn't so bad that Hollywood is making books into movies. I used to always hate when people would say, "Why should I read Harry Potter? I've seen all the movies." 

      BECAUSE THE BOOKS ARE BETTER!

     Ahem. Excuse me.

     I still hate it when people say that sort of thing. But let's be honest, with that attitude, would they have ever really read the book? Movie or no?

      The cynical (and therefore more likely) answer is no. But at least that person was still exposed to the story of Harry Potter and the themes of friendship and courage.

     The people who often get overlooked are those like myself and my friend in physics. The people who heard about or seen the movie, and want to read the book because of it. Would I or my classmate have wanted to read Les Mis if it had never been made into a movie?

     Maybe, maybe not. The point is, the movie encouraged us to read the book.

     For whatever reason (perhaps out of sheer stubbornness) I'm still not quite one-hundred percent okay with books being made into movies. But I'm getting there. In fact, as mentioned before, there is one exception to the rule; one book series that I prefer to see on screen rather than on paper (but just slightly, I do like the books).

     But, I've wasted enough of your time with my rambling, so The Exception will have to wait until tomorrow. Stay tuned for my next post!

     

  

 

The Great Shakespearean Challenge: Day 41

     58 out of 1194 pages read

     Before I start talking Shakespeare, I would like to thank +Marian Allen for mentioning Diary of a Lit Nerd in her blog! I truly appreciated your kind words, Marian.

     As I mentioned in my previous post, I've been simultaneously reading King Lear and Part Two of King Henry VI. King Lear has proven a much more engaging play than Henry VI, Part Two. Though, I will say, now that I am nearing the end of King Henry VI, the plot has become increasingly more interesting.

     The entrance of the character Jack Cade has livened up the play. Cade is a "labouring man" who is leading a revolt against Henry VI and hopes to take the crown for himself (just about every character in this play wants to take down King Henry). He is portrayed as a fairly terrible person, but his strong personality has brought a degree of excitement to the play.

     So far, my favorite Jack Cade line is "Away with him, away with him! he speaks Latin!"

     Okay, I admit, the line doesn't sound that special, especially out of context. But, for whatever reason, it made me laugh; probably only because when I read it, I imagined a frustrated classmate yelling those words at my Latin teacher.

     And, of course, sitting in my second hour Latin class the next day, that line kept popping in my head. For a fleeting moment, I was tempted to jump from my seat and yell, "Away with him, away with him! he speaks Latin!" but I had a feeling that doing so would be frowned upon, despite the literary origins of the outburst.

     Still, I prefer reading King Lear over King Henry VI. Not only is the story more interesting, but the copy of King Lear that I'm reading for book club is illustrated! How do you illustrate Shakespeare, you ask?

     You don't.

    That's why the illustrations are so entertaining. Take a look:

     Obviously, someone thought it would be clever to try to pictorially represent Shakespeare's metaphors. Take, for instance, the top left image, which is a visual representation of the line "the cart draws the horse."

     Umm...I don't think Shakespeare meant that literally, but okay.

     So, as you can well imagine, it is always a pleasant surprise to turn the page and see an awkward snail, what looks to be a sketch of Oz's City of Emeralds, or a guy barbequing his friend.

     But seriously.

    What King Lear has that Henry VI does not have is Shakespeare's wit. Not to say there is no wit or clever wordplay in Henry VI, because there definitely is, but the wit in King Lear is much more searing. It's clear that Henry VI is one of Shakespeare's earliest plays; the genius is there, he just hasn't embraced it yet. Furthermore, as far as personal preference goes, my favorite literary device (yes, I have a favorite literary device; don't hate) is irony, and King Lear is practically oozing irony.

     I look forward to seeing how both plays conclude. I have plenty of reading to catch up on, so I will live you with this parting image, courtesy of my King Lear book:

 

 

Judy Corbett's "Castles in the Air"

(Sorry the font is different, Blogger is being difficult. Please let me know if you are having trouble reading this post.)

      It is very rare that I have strong feelings of dislike for a book. Very rare.

     And this, my friends, is one of those rare moments.

     I read Judy Corbett's memoir, Castles in the Air for my Language and Composition class. The teacher let us pick our own memoirs and, for whatever reason, I chose Castles in the Air.

     Despite the unfortunate title, the book looked interesting enough. (And anyway don't they say not to judge a book by its cover?)  Castles in the Air is about Judy Corbett who, along with her fiancé, Peter, buys a run-down castle in Wales. She tells the story of the physical difficulties they faced in renovating the house as well as the emotional journey of taking on such a daunting project. Sounds harmless enough, right?

    Wrong.

     I went into the book with a positive attitude. After my teacher told me that the memoir would not be a challenging read, and after my parents and friends laughed at the embarrassing title, I had determined that I would like this book. No matter how easy to read or cheesy the book was, I would see the best in it.

     The first eight chapters were fine. While it was cheesy and not the most well-written of books, Corbett was a quirky, humorous narrator. It wasn't until chapter nine that I lost all respect for Judy Corbett. 

     In chapter nine, Peter proposes to Corbett, and mysteriously, the day after she and Peter decide to get married, a ghost begins to haunt the halls of their castle. The ghost's name is Margaret. Corbett feels Margaret's presence, she just knows that the ghost's name is Margaret. She also somehow knows that Margaret's main aim in life (afterlife?) is to make Peter's life miserable.

     At the same time Margaret appears, Corbett and Peter's relationship becomes strained. Corbett is always arguing with Peter, and at one point, she calls off the marriage. Now, why on earth, would a young couple who are way in over their heads renovating a giant crumbling castle, who are in tight money straits, and who are planning to get married ever fight? How could tension ever arise from such a situation?

     No idea. Obviously, if this couple were to fight, it must have been because one of them was possessed by a ghost.

     Yes, that's right. Corbett blames her problems with Peter on Margaret. She claims that she was possessed by Margaret; that the only reason why she and Peter fought was because Margaret had taken over. Corbett was a powerless victim.

     Now, I will admit, that we cannot know for sure whether Corbett was actually possessed by a ghost. The existence of  ghosts has never been completely proved or disproved. But whether or not Margaret exists or not is a moot point. Most likely, Margaret is a figment of Corbett's imagination, a manifestation of all her stress, which causes her to act unlike her usual self. However, if in fact, Margaret is a real ghost, why must all the blame be put on her? I was very frustrated that Corbett never once acknowledged the slight possibility that the problems she was having with Peter could have stemmed from something other than the supernatural.

     After reading about Margaret, I lost all respect for Corbett. And, as I read the rest of the book, Corbett's other flaws became glaringly apparent. Her abundance of cliched metaphors, her poor writing abilities, and her rudeness towards those who visited her and Peter's castle.

     I could go on for quite awhile about the issues I had with this memoir, but this post is long enough as it is. Margaret is just the most striking of many, many flaws. The main problem is that Corbett is not self-deprecating enough and her opinions are very one-sided. Nothing is ever her fault. She blames everything on a ghost or on the ignorance of others. At some points, she is just plain mean.  

     At the end of the memoir, she says that she is no longer bothered by people who critique the castle because those individuals "saw [her and Peter's] dream fulfillment as a mirror to their own failures."

     Okay, sure. I guess. Or maybe they just had a problem with the castle...

     I give Castles in the Air a mucus-y yellow-green rating. This book makes my stomach turn.

Diary of a Lit Nerd is Now on Twitter!

     Exciting news, friends!

     I've decided to become a twit and join tweeter! (Wait, that doesn't sound right...)

     Anyway, please follow me @amelia_bauer! I will be tweeting literary memes, blog post updates, pictures of books and other nerdy things, as well as words of wisdom.

     That's all for now. See you on Twitter!

  

 

The Great Shakespearean Challenge: Day 27

     49 out of 1194 pages read

     Just a quick update.

     I'm making good progress through Part Two of King Henry VI, though I'm finding it less interesting than Part One. None of the characters have really reached out and grabbed me like Lord Talbot and Joan la Pucelle did in Part One. The only character that I have really liked in this play so far was the Duke of Gloster, that is, SPOILER ALERT! until he was murdered.

      I suppose the Duke of York is all right. I'm not sure whether Shakespeare wants me to like him or not, but I'm certainly rooting for him in his quest to overthrow King Henry VI. I'm sorry, but the king is a total loser. I mean come on, the guy faints when he finds out Gloster is dead. Take a look at this stage direction:

The "king" swoons

     Pathetic, right?

     Sure, someone very close to him died. Kings can be sad. But Kings really shouldn't be "swooning."

     Well, King Henry VI was a real person, and I do remember learning in my European History class that he was not the most authoritarian of kings, and was, rather, very sensitive and malleable. If that description is indeed true, then Shakespeare did a wonderful job capturing his personality.

Shakespeare showdown! King Lear vs. King Henry VI

     In other news, the book club at my school is reading Shakespeare's King Lear this quarter. Thus, I've found myself in a situation where I am reading two Shakespeare plays at once.

     Not that I really mind. Can't have too much Shakespeare.

     I've only read a few scene of King Lear, but so far I am really enjoying the play. I'm enjoying it more than King Henry VI, which is becoming a problem as I really need to read both, but I find myself preferring to read King Lear.

     That's all for now. Look forward to more posts about both  Part Two of King Henry VI as well as King Lear.

The Great Shakespearean Challenge: Day 24

     35 out of 1194 pages read

Don't worry, the fire is fake.

     HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!
     (a little late)

     And what better way to spend this wonderful holiday then by reading Shakespeare? After all, we have good 'ole Will Shakespeare to blame for all those Romeo and Juliet cliches that run rampant in American pop culture.


     As promised in my previous post, I have much more to say about Part One of King VI. In addition to Lord Talbot, another character that really stood out to me was Joan of Arc. Both her character and Lord Talbot's character reveal what a profound impact context has on literature.

     Having been a student of the French language for five years, I've seen Christian Duguay's 1999 made-for-TV-movie, Joan of Arc at least twice (that and The Count of Monte Cristo seem to be the only movies French teachers are familiar with), Shakespeare's Joan la Pucelle is a far cry from Duguay's pious saint.

     Shakespeare's Joan is rude and audacious. She's a good fighter, but that's all she's got going for her. Unlike movie-Joan, who remains humble and virtuous, Shakespeare-Joan is depicted more as a witch than a saint.

     Joan's character is best shown in scene iv of act v. In this scene, Joan is about to be burnt at the stake when her shepard father comes to bid her goodbye. Joan denies that this man is her father, falsely claiming that she was born to nobility. Her father leaves in a rage, and when the English start to take her away to be executed, she pleads that should not kill her because she is "virtuous and holy; chosen from above." However, when this argument has little effect on the English, she changes her tactics completely, claiming that she is pregnant with the child of Dauhpin. But the English won't be swayed by this either, so Joan lists off the names of French generals, each time claiming that one of them is the father, changing the her mind every time the English reject her argument.

     Thus, Shakespeare's Joan is vain, self-serving and unscrupulous. She is a sharp contrast to Duguay's Joan, who looks up to the sky in complete submission, her lips parted in prayer as those deadly flames tear at her skirts.

     It would be tempting, very tempting, to make the feminist argument. After all, Shakespeare made a complete joke out of a woman who took on an unconventional role in society and fought for what she believed in at no matter what the cost. But I believe that Shakespeare's depiction of Joan la Pucelle is a reflection not of womankind, but rather, of the French.

     Published roughly half a century after the Hundred Years War, Part One of King Henry VI was written in a time when relations between France and England were still tense. This may be a historical play, but its also a propaganda piece. Take, for instance, the juxtaposition between Lord Talbot, the ideal English knight, and the flighty King Charles of France, who is portrayed by Shakespeare as a fool.

     At one point, King Charles and one of his dukes speak of how Joan la Pucelle will be made the patron saint of France. Thus, Joan can be seen as a symbol for France. Audacious, rude, unscrupulous; through Joan we see how Shakespeare and his countrymen viewed France.

     So what?

     Joan la Pucelle is a perfect example of why, as readers, we need to consider the context of the literature we are reading. Part One of King Henry VI is certainly not one hundred percent historically accurate. Shakespeare was biased towards France, partial towards England. It's at no fault to him; this is simply a result of the time period he lived in. And it certainly makes King Henry no less of a masterpiece. If anything, it just makes the play more interesting. The same is true of Elizabeth Gaskell's The Life of Charlotte Bronte.

     A book never stands alone. It is a living, breathing piece of the time period that conceived it. And it is this dynamic, far-reaching aspect of the written word which makes literature so much fun.