Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs

Hello everyone! Happy May! I am ecstatic at the fact that the weather is now cooperating with me and all of the things I want to do this Spring. I am not so happy, however, with the fact that school is still not over, and that these last two weeks have been grueling and seemingly perpetual. Because of this, my posts have been few and far in between, and I deeply apologize for this! Despite this, I just read the striking, New York Times bestselling memoir Running with Scissors by Augusten Burroughs.


In his memoir, Burroughs beautifully describes his turbulent upbringing in the Northeastern United States. The book focuses on his teenage years as he confronts his homosexuality and is abandoned by his mentally unstable, poet mother and neglectful, unsympathetic father to be raised in the chaotic household of his mother's psychiatrist. Not shying away from the disconcerting details of his childhood, the author describes his evolution as a person and the erratic behavior of his parents and volatile guardians. Burroughs, as a child, is forced to deal with his chain-smoking mother who, amidst numerous psychotic breakdowns, becomes sexually involved with the local preacher's wife and a young, equally insane eighteen-year old girl. Simultaneously, Burroughs embarks into a relationship himself, with an emotionally needy thirty-something year old man. Burroughs also wrestles with living under the roof of a deceitful doctor and his family, who find value in the "reading" of their excrements, which they believe to be words from God.


Running with Scissors is most definitely the most soul-baring memoir I have read. Burroughs intricately narrates his tumultuous childhood with a very positive lack of delicacy. He faces the people and events from his fast with a force that will cause the reader to laugh and flinch in the short period of a paragraph. The Los Angeles Times review that described the book as "hilarious and horrifying" is the perfect way to capture the book's aura in two words. I highly recommend this book to anyone looking to encounter a new species of memoir- one with grit and the ability to transcend beyond the literary genre's typical boundaries.







"My mother began to crazy. Not in a 'Let's paint the kitchen red!' sort of way. But crazy in a gas oven, toothpaste sandwich, 'I am God' sort of way."






"The line between normal and crazy seemed impossibly thin. A person would have to be an expert tightrope walker in order not to fall"






"I know exactly how that is. To love somebody who doesn't deserve it. Because they are all you have. Because any attention is better than no attention. For exactly the same reason, it is sometimes satisfying to cut yourself and breed. On those gray days where eight in the morning looks no different from noon and nothing has happened and nothing is going to happen and you are washing a glass in the sink and it breaks accidentally and punctures your skin. And then there is this shocking red, the brightest thing in the day, so vibrant it buzzes, this blood of yours. That is okay sometimes because at least you know you're alive."

The Tempest by William Shakespeare

Hello everyone! I am so terribly sorry that I have not updated my blog in the last week. The bell jar truly descended this week, but fortunately it has also been a wonderful week! I have gone through two proms and a gargantuan amount of school work. But I am back!

This week I decided to stray away from my normal prose-related posts and instead share my comments on William Shakespeare's beautiful play The Tempest. I know that many of you may already be a little skeptical, as Shakespeare tends to be a greatly admired, but also feared man, since people assume that "Shakespeare is not for them" or that they will not understand it. I am here to exclaim that "You are wrong!!!!" Shakespeare can be so easy to read with the right tools, and it can be extremely enjoyable. Many of his plays contain all of the fantasy, drama, chaos, and lust that are so prevalent in the popular novels of today. And now is the time where I give a quick shout-out to my wonderful, sophomore-year English teacher who fostered my love for the Bard... Love you Mrs. Brewer!!!!

For those of you who I have now convinced that they may enjoy one of Shakespeare's masterpieces, I strongly recommend that you begin with a few Shakespeare's easier classics, like my favorite A Midsummer Night's Dream. After you have put a few of his plays under your belt, and hopefully enjoyed them, I urge you to read The Tempest (c. 1610), which is believed to be one of the last plays William Shakespeare wrote alone. The Tempest is the story of an aging, exiled duke and magician, Prospero, who uses his magic to create a "tempest" - or a storm - that will bring a ship containing his enemies (which include his brother) to his peculiar little island. He then craftily utilizes his servant, the spirit Ariel, to spin a web of complications and journeys for the new arrivals on his island. By the play's finish, the ex-Duke has fostered marriage, forgiveness, and justice among the other characters. (I am sorry for being so vague with this particular plot line- it is relatively complicated, and I don't want to spoil anything.)

This play is particularly admirable for its diaphanous, mystical tone and the way Shakespeare forms the dramatically different characters. Halfway through the play I found myself not liking any of the characters and doubting the morality of Prospero himself. Shakespeare, however, works his magic quickly in the last two acts, giving the individuals new levels of complexity and justifying their previous actions in the play. In addition, the epilogue of the play is particularly moving. In it Prospero delivers a passionate soliloquy, vowing to give up his magic forever and requesting the applause, approval, and forgiveness of his audience. Many consider this to be Shakespeare's "retirement speech," taking the persona of the artful magician who, like Shakespeare, may have altered the thoughts of those around him through his art. The themes of the master-servant relationship and the variety of humanity further enhance the wonderfully entertaining story.

So,quit doubting your literary skills! Go pick up one of the Bard's play and get your Shake on!
(pardon the terrible pun)

Painting of Ariel and Prospero by William Hamilton

"O, wonder!

How many goodly creatures are there here!

How beauteous mankind is! Oh brave new world

That has such people in't!"

- Prospero's daughter, Miranda

Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen

This week, looking forward to my school's prom this weekend, I decided that I wanted to read a good, quality, modern love story, but something a little more edgy with a bit of grit! I settled on the 2006 novel Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen, and I was not disappointed in the least!

Water for Elephants is the beautiful, captivating tale of a young Polish boy named Jacob who, in the wake of a personal tragedy, embarks on a tumultuous and riveting career as the veterinarian for a travelling circus in Depression-era America. Told in first person by Jacob himself, the book alternates between the voice of a young, spirited Jacob and an elderly, ninety-something year old Jacob who is struggling with the hardships of memory-loss and his dull life in an assisted living home. Jacob, in his delicate storytelling, narrates the three or so months he spent falling in love with a magnificent, married circus performer, Marlena, and a majestic, hulking bull elephant, Rosie.

Gruen's pure writing talent is definitely something to be admired and part of the reason this book is so appealing and enjoyable. Gruen has an admirable and extensive vocabulary which she efficiently utilizes to carry out her best talent: imagery .Gruen is truly able to paint a picture with her words, while avoiding the perils of elaborating too much and boring the reader. Her descriptions of the circus and its freaks, menageries, and spectacular performances put the reader on the floor of the hippodrome, allowing them to feel as if they are there themselves, breathing in the smell of peanuts and cotton candy.

In addition to her elegant writing style, Gruen develops extremely complex but yet very simplistic characters. The book is almost Gatsby-esque, with a narrator who, despite being the very center of the book and the viewpoint through which the readers experience the story, is almost elusive and difficult to understand by the end of the novel, slightly similar to Gatsby's Nick Carraway. Even more resembling of F. Scott Fitzgerald's magnum opus is the similarities between Marlena and her brute of a husband, and Daisy and Tom Buchanan. As the book evolves, the characters become figures regarded by the reader with great passion. In fact, I have just spent a couple hours (it is now 1 a.m.) in an anxious rush to finish the book, wanting to know the outcomes for my beloved circus friends.

Of many of the recent fictional novels that I have read over the past couple of years, Water for Elephants has definitely taken its place as one of my favorites. The book exudes a passion for the ideals of love, art, and good writing. If you are looking for a great, romantic, but slightly unnerving book, Water for Elephants is perfect for you!


Thank you for reading, and I hope you have enjoyed my take on the book. Feel free to comment below or email me about your opinions on the book or for suggestions for my posts in the upcoming weeks. Have a wonderful week, after all, "Life is the most spectacular show on Earth!"

"I want her to melt into me, like butter on toast. I want to absorb her and walk around for the rest of my days with her encased in my skin. I want."

-Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen 

Selfie Saturday #3

Happy Spring everyone! This week, despite an abnormal amount of school-related stress and teenage nonsense, has been an incredibly beautiful week here in the South, and I hope everyone everywhere else is starting to experience the sunshine and showers of April. Today I spent my first full day in the sun and unfortunately returned to the indoors the color of a maraschino cherry! But, nevertheless, I am incredibly thankful that the winter weather seems to have finally vanished!

For this week's Selfie Saturday, I thought I would share a little bit about my love for all the flying, swimming, and crawling creatures of the planet Earth. I am a huge animal-lover, who may or may not be subscribed to both PETA and the WWF's email newsletters. Ever since I was a child I have always been fascinated by the nonhuman inhabitants of the world around me, and I have a small history of being rather outspoken when it comes to the protection of said creatures. At home, I have one animal companion, a corpulent and charming Boston Terrier named Csonka (pronounced like Zonka, and named after football player Larry Csonka). My family has had Csonka for twelve years now, and he is truly a valued member of the family, no matter how gassy and occasionally comatose he may be. Csonka is my walking partner, cuddle buddy, and forever companion, and I am sure you will continue to see pictures of him randomly appear on my blog, so I apologize in advance!

Now I do promise that I will try to not be too extreme with my personal opinions for the majority of my posts, but I do believe it is important that I truly express who I am and even healthy to encounter opposing opinions every now and then. Anyway, I would like to recommend rather quickly that if you are not too familiar with the Nonhuman Rights Project, then you should give it a quick Google search. I do find it incredibly important that the human population be careful to protect and show love to the other living things among us, and this organization is quite admirable. Also, if you are looking for something to watch on one of these rainy April days, Gabriela Cowperthwaite's Blackfish is an eye-opening and shocking documentary on the orcas at SeaWorld that I highly recommend,

On a lighter note, I am almost positive my spirit animal is the meerkat. 

"The better I get to know men, the more I find myself loving dogs."

-Charles de Gaulle

Adorable video of the week: http://www.usatoday.com/story/news/nation/2015/04/10/giraffe-gives-birth-at-dallas-zoo/25603219/

The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath

Salutations! Thank you so much for returning to my blog for the second Literary Wednesday! This week's piece of literature is Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar, the namesake of my blog. I have had several inquiries as to the meaning of "A Teenager's Look Through the Bell Jar," so I decided to take this opportunity to explain arguably my favorite novel of all time and its meaning.

First of all, in order to fully comprehend the impact of this novel, I believe you should know a few quick pieces of information on its author, Sylvia Plath. Plath has been dubbed by author John Green as "the patron saint of weepy teenage girls," and I must admit, this is not exactly false. Plath, a world-renowned American poet is known for her confessional poetry, a poetic style that gained momentum in the 1950's because of its incorporation of large amounts of personal transparency. Plath is also well known for her tumultuous relationship with poet Ted Hughes and her tragic suicide in 1963. The Bell Jar is Plath's only novel, and it is highly reminiscent of Plath's own childhood and mental decline as an adult.

The Bell Jar focuses on the female protagonist Esther Greenwood and her mental deterioration as a young writer. A very successful and hardworking student, Esther spends a summer in New York City working for a fashion magazine with a handful of other fortunate young women. Esther, however, can not understand why she finds such little enjoyment when she should be having the time of her life. Instead of embracing the opportunity, she spends the month dwelling on the social tensions of the fifties and challenging the traditional gender roles and expectations of the times. Following her return to her Northeastern hometown, Esther slowly begins a decline into severe mental illness, attempting suicide numerous times. Eventually, after a painstakingly difficult and strenuous journey through several mental hospitals and doctors, Esther is able to regain her mental stability and overcome the societal boundaries she always felt imposed upon her. Throughout the novel, Esther likens her madness to a bell jar- a bell-shaped glass used to cover a gas, vacuum, or delicate object (picture the glass that covers the rose in The Beauty and the Beast). Esther feels that when the bell jar captures her, she sits "stewing" in her "own sour air," becoming progressively more insane. However, as the novel progresses, she gradually feels the bell jar lifted away, but she asks herself, "How did I know that someday- at college, in Europe, somewhere, anywhere- the bell jar, with its stifling distortion, wouldn't descend again?" Esther knows that the bell jar and her madness hover a very short distance above her, threatening to contain her at any moment. Personally, I find that I can highly relate to the character of Esther Greenwood in a less severe manner, and for me the bell jar symbolizes the chaos of being a teenager and handling the occasional pandemonium around me, which is why my blog got its Plathian label.

Personally, I find The Bell Jar to be one of the most compelling pieces of American literature to be born from the twentieth century, and I highly recommend it to any lover of reading. I must warn you, the book is not exactly an uplifting, pleasurable experience. It is quite a sad and depressing read, but Plath's beautiful style greatly makes up for this. Plath writes in a very expressive, sensual manner, starting with the book's first line about the "queer, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenburgs," and continuing through the entire novel

Through Plath's beautiful work, I truly believe that one can confront and come to terms with their own mental instability. no matter how tiny or colossal it is, in a way that no other book can even approach.

"I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am."
- From The Bell Jar (1963) by Sylvia Plath

Next Week: Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen

Selfie Saturday #2

Hallo! Guten Tag! Welcome back to Selfie Saturday, my weekly opportunity to share with you a few things about myself amidst my literary discussions. This week I would like you to know that I am huge lover of everything history and everything travel, and therefore I am going to use this time to tell you about the wonderful trip I recently took to Europe.

Earlier this month, a group of students, teachers, and parents from my high school and from another delightful high school in Arizona went on a trip to Germany, Austria, Switzerland, and Lichtenstein. Between two long days of travel, we were able to spend a total of eight days travelling extensively through the four countries, experiencing the lands, peoples, and cultures of the European continent. It was the definitively one of the most life-altering experiences I have yet to have in my life, and it fostered hundreds of memories and experiences I will never forget.

In Germany our group spent much of our time in Munich, Heidelberg, and Neuschwanstein. All three were absolutely extravagant cities. Munich, in particular, is now definitely one of my favorite cities in the world. The city had a charm and quaintness that perfectly complemented its metropolitan feel. My most cherished memory from Munich was a bike tour some members from our group embarked on on our first day in the city. A super hilarious guide, in the course of two quick hours, led us all through the city, riding bikes like the locals and seeing the sights on a perfect spring day.While Munich was my favorite city from the trip, Austria was my favorite country. In Austria we were able to visit the glorious and gargantuan Vienna, the bustling and beautiful city of Innsbrook, and the ever-romantic Salzburg. All three cities, ranging greatly in size and culture, were each extremely unique, enjoyable places full of history and color. Lastly, our final days brought us through the majestic Swiss Alps to the tiny, Washington D.C.-sized Lichtenstein and Lucerne Switzerland. Unfortunately we were met in Switzerland by some chilly, rainy weather, but our experience there was still unforgettable. After reaching the snowy summit of Mount Rigi, the Queen of the Mountains, we were able to tour the streets of Lucerne and hide in the many cozy cafes and bakeries when the weather became a nuisance.

In addition to the remarkable cities we visited, my trip to Europe was only bettered by the delicious foods we consumed, the marvelous people that accompanied me, and the excellent tour guide that made the trip possible. I think that the most significant artifact I will take from my experience in Europe is, as cliche as this whole post sounds, the knowledge that there is a whole different world beyond Tennessee full of places to explore and people to meet. I am now much more enthusiastic to see more of the world, but at the same time, I am now also more appreciatory of my home.

"To travel is to take a journey into yourself."
- Danny Kaye

Wild

Recently I finished the very popular, modern memoir Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail (2012) by Cheryl Strayed, and I have finally realized what all the recent hype about the book is about. Wild is a touching, heartfelt true story about a woman who, while dealing the death of her young mother, decides to take an extensive hike on the Pacific Crest Trail through much of California and Oregon. On her journey she slowly is able to come to terms with her mother's death and the disintegration of her family and marriage by becoming one with the wilderness, encountering obstacle upon obstacle in the process.

Strayed, the author of Wild, writes her memoir in an exquisite, personal manner, making the reader feel as if they are with Strayed on the trail, rejoicing in her achievements and mourning with her through her sorrows and hardships. Strayed, however, never allows her detail-oriented writing style to lead to boredom or monotony. Her detail only allows the reader to fully experience Strayed's story. By the end of the book, I felt as if I was a personal friend of Cheryl Strayed, ready to hear more of her life story and feeling as if I had just seen the beauty of the Pacific Northwest with her.

After reading Wild, I have learned a valuable lesson in grief. Through Strayed's story of her both poor and wise choices following her mother's death, I am better able to comprehend the complexity of losing someone very close, which I have fortunately not had to deal too much with at my young age. Additionally, on a less serious note, I now I have a deep desire to embark on a spiritually-awakening long-term hike as Strayed did. Maybe with a great deal of training, preparation, and parent-convincing I can do a couple hundred miles on the close-by Appalachian Trail after my senior year.

Overall, Wild is an absolutely spectacular book, and definitely now ranks as one of my favorite memoirs of all time. (I will discuss my most loved memoir in the near future.) I recommend this book to anyone looking for an enlightening, relatively easy read, and especially to those who are huge nature-lovers or who are going through the loss of a close friend or family member themselves.

Thank you for reading! If you would like to further discuss this wonderful book, feel free to comment below or send me an email at brockeaston98@gmail.com.

"I knew that if I allowed fear to overtake me, my journey was doomed. Fear, to a great extent, is born of a story we tell ourselves, and so I chose to tell myself a different story from the one women are told. I decided I was safe. I was strong. I was brave. Nothing could vanquish me."
- Cheryl Strayed, Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail

Next Week: The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath