I can't believe another year has passed. How did this happen? Someone hit the pause button for just a second so I can catch my breath.
No? Fine, then I guess I have to get on with this. The best and worst forms of entertainment I have come across in the year 2015. Yikes.
Okay, so here we go. From Gems to Blacklist…
BOOK GEMS:
1. Nora and Kettle by Lauren Nicolle Taylor
2. Dreamthief and Spellweaver by Tamara Grantham
3. Chalice by Robin McKinley
4. Pegasus by Robin McKinley
5. Cage of Deceit by Jennifer Anne Davis
6. Ivy by Hollow Ryan
MOVIE GEMS:
1. Max
2. Jurassic World
3. Avengers: Age of Ultron
4. Machine Gun Preacher
GAME GEMS:
1. Rise of the Tomb Raider
Now onto…
BOOK BLACKLIST:
1. The Awakener by Amanda Strong
2. Descendant by Nichole Giles
3. Reluctant Guardian by Melissa Cunningham
4. Crushed by Kasi Blake
5. The White Aura by Felicia Tatum
MOVIE BLACKLIST:
1. Jupiter Ascending
2. San Andreas
3. Mission Impossible: Rogue Nation
4. Spectre
There you have it, Leah's worst and best experiences of 2015. I'll try to keep better notes on my wrap up for 2016, but I'm hopeful that the list of Gems grows, while the list of Blacklist shrinks. But we shall see.
Showing posts with label Opinions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Opinions. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 5, 2016
Photographs and Family: Rights and Respect
So, this is more or less going to be a personal opinion and a revelation about myself that I would like to put into words. Again: this is a personal look into my thought process. If you have a differing opinion, that's good for you, but this is how I react to certain situations.
I hate being photographed. Not because I think I look ugly–though there are days that no mortal eye should have to look upon my visage. Not because I think it would be an awful picture. Not because I don't want to have a record of that moment in time.
I hate being photographed because I cannot trust the intentions of the photographer.
Everything ends up on the internet these days. Everything. From food in a restaurant (never understood that compulsion) to private pictures you thought might stay in the possession of one person alone.
Now, I grew up in a very strict household. I have never slept over at a friend's house. I have never gone to parties. I wasn't even allowed to go on a walk by myself through our own field. With that kind of parentage, you can then imagine what paranoia existed when it came to the internet.
For years, I have remained cautious in my approach to people on the internet. I avoid giving out my phone number. Only a very few people that I trust explicitly have my address. And I'm even impressed that when I search myself online, there are no records of my location or personal information available.
The only thing you will find about me on the internet is what I have chosen to put up there. This includes pictures of myself and my works as an author. That is it. I couldn't even find my own phone number or address, though several of my relatives' information is available.
I am forever proud of this accomplishment, though I know it likely won't last forever. It becomes harder, however, when people start posting things concerning you without your permission.
Recently I was in the midst of what might be called a family gathering. One of my uncles was present and asked for group photographs. Something I balked at in an instant, and had it not been for the request of my wonderful grandmother, it wouldn't have happened.
There are several reasons I did not wish to do this, though I agreed only on the stipulation that any pictures of me not be posted. And now I'm going to get into the other reasons, and this could be a long rant.
To begin with, I had not seen this particular uncle in roughly 15 years. He is a stranger to me, and I did not feel comfortable with a stranger taking pictures of me. Period. It would have been no different had it been a man off the street asking me to pose for him. That shit is not okay.
Now, my refusal of this made several of my family members upset, and I can sort-of see their point. This man is my father's brother and hasn't seen me in years, and likely won't ever see me again. He wanted remembrances of his family. I can understand that, to a degree.
Except that he is a stranger to me. He is not my family. I have chosen my family, and I have let go of people who I deem unworthy. Relatives I have not seen or spoken to in years whom I have no interest in … yeah, they don't make the cut.
Another issue with this ordeal was that he began to take photographs of me without my permission. That shit is also not okay. Up until that point, I had had no issues with this man and was pleasantly surprised to find him less annoying than I suspected he might be. All of that camaraderie was thrown out the window when I was forced to flip him the bird mid-photo when he attempted to ambush me.
This revealed to me that he had a lack of respect for my decision and what I was comfortable with. And it wasn't the last time he would attempt to ambush me with his camera. Yet, when I spoke up about how disrespectful to me it was, I was the bad guy.
I'm not.
I agreed to a few family photos, so long as I knew they were for his eyes only. I cooperated within the limits of what I was comfortable with. He deviated from that oral contract and assaulted my rights to privacy when he attempted to take unwanted photographs of my person. That shit is not okay.
Again: this man is a stranger to me. He has no right to any photographs of me, whatsoever. But because there is a blood relationship between us, he thought my opinion invalid.
Let me make this clear to anyone who doesn't understand what I am saying:
Just because you are related to an individual, that doesn't mean you have any rights regarding them.
And yes, I mean that to be as vague as it sounds, because even parents don't have all the rights they think they do, in many cases. Uncles, aunts, cousins, and even grandparents all have less and less rights to a person depending upon the personal relationships formed between each individual.
Every being in my life is afforded whatever rights I deem fit to give them when it comes to my person, and nothing else. It is my life, so I make the decision about who gets to be involved in it.
By taking pictures of me that I was not willing to allow, this uncle of mine showed a lack of respect for me that I will not forgive. It shows the kind of man he is and the ignorance he possesses if he believes that he is entitled to anything involving me. Even a simple picture. The fact that he also outright refused to accept my rejection of permission shows that he is incapable of respecting me, and so I equally revoked whatever respect had been on loan to him for the duration of his visit.
Had this been the only case of its kind, I might not have wrote this whole long post. (Or I still might have, because the fact that I was dubbed the villain in this scenario is outright ludicrous.) But there have been many instances in my own pool of blood relatives and in the situations of others I know that prompted me to write this blog post.
It comes down to more than a few pictures that someone took without my permission. This is about the disrespect for me and the boundaries I had laid by someone who is related to me.
I have seen families disrespecting each other and their opinions so often, that it is quite sad that it is the norm. Which is why I have distanced myself from any individuals that should think of doing this to me.
I guess what I am trying to say is:
Your relatives have only as many rights to you as you give them. If you have a good relationship with them, like I do with my mom, than they probably have a lot.
There's are several adages to life that people would have you follow. Including: you must give respect to get respect. Yet, another says that respect must be earned.
Both of these are true. Though you don't have to give respect rather than show respect. If a person is unknown to you, you act in a respectful manner in order to earn their respect. It is ideal that they should also do the same for you.
My uncle did not do this for me, and subsequently lost any respect I might have either given or shown to him.
The one adage I live by is: do unto others as you would have them do unto you. He refused to respect me and so I acted in kind.
Perhaps the worst of it is that he probably didn't even realize what he was doing, because he thought he had the right to take home some remembrance of me. He didn't understand that he no longer had those rights.
And that's the thing: most blood relatives don't understand that their rights have been revoked or suspended. And if you're a minor or someone who has to respect the rules of the household, you are probably unable to show your relatives the errors of their ways. If that is the case, you have my empathy because I was also halted in the midst of the lesson my uncle needed to learn by that same respect for my grandparents, and I also grew up with a man who did not allow any dissent for blood relations to be vocalized often.
Rest assured, however, that there will come a day when you can put your foot down and say enough is enough. It's time that blood relatives learn that every interaction with you is a privilege, not a right.
So often, they think because you are related, that's a free pass to do and say whatever they want with you. That is not the case. And if your parents won't stick up for you, you have to stick up for yourself.
You have my blessings and my support, because I also live through this enormous amount of bullshit.
I hate being photographed. Not because I think I look ugly–though there are days that no mortal eye should have to look upon my visage. Not because I think it would be an awful picture. Not because I don't want to have a record of that moment in time.
I hate being photographed because I cannot trust the intentions of the photographer.
Everything ends up on the internet these days. Everything. From food in a restaurant (never understood that compulsion) to private pictures you thought might stay in the possession of one person alone.
Now, I grew up in a very strict household. I have never slept over at a friend's house. I have never gone to parties. I wasn't even allowed to go on a walk by myself through our own field. With that kind of parentage, you can then imagine what paranoia existed when it came to the internet.
For years, I have remained cautious in my approach to people on the internet. I avoid giving out my phone number. Only a very few people that I trust explicitly have my address. And I'm even impressed that when I search myself online, there are no records of my location or personal information available.
The only thing you will find about me on the internet is what I have chosen to put up there. This includes pictures of myself and my works as an author. That is it. I couldn't even find my own phone number or address, though several of my relatives' information is available.
I am forever proud of this accomplishment, though I know it likely won't last forever. It becomes harder, however, when people start posting things concerning you without your permission.
Recently I was in the midst of what might be called a family gathering. One of my uncles was present and asked for group photographs. Something I balked at in an instant, and had it not been for the request of my wonderful grandmother, it wouldn't have happened.
There are several reasons I did not wish to do this, though I agreed only on the stipulation that any pictures of me not be posted. And now I'm going to get into the other reasons, and this could be a long rant.
To begin with, I had not seen this particular uncle in roughly 15 years. He is a stranger to me, and I did not feel comfortable with a stranger taking pictures of me. Period. It would have been no different had it been a man off the street asking me to pose for him. That shit is not okay.
Now, my refusal of this made several of my family members upset, and I can sort-of see their point. This man is my father's brother and hasn't seen me in years, and likely won't ever see me again. He wanted remembrances of his family. I can understand that, to a degree.
Except that he is a stranger to me. He is not my family. I have chosen my family, and I have let go of people who I deem unworthy. Relatives I have not seen or spoken to in years whom I have no interest in … yeah, they don't make the cut.
Another issue with this ordeal was that he began to take photographs of me without my permission. That shit is also not okay. Up until that point, I had had no issues with this man and was pleasantly surprised to find him less annoying than I suspected he might be. All of that camaraderie was thrown out the window when I was forced to flip him the bird mid-photo when he attempted to ambush me.
This revealed to me that he had a lack of respect for my decision and what I was comfortable with. And it wasn't the last time he would attempt to ambush me with his camera. Yet, when I spoke up about how disrespectful to me it was, I was the bad guy.
I'm not.
I agreed to a few family photos, so long as I knew they were for his eyes only. I cooperated within the limits of what I was comfortable with. He deviated from that oral contract and assaulted my rights to privacy when he attempted to take unwanted photographs of my person. That shit is not okay.
Again: this man is a stranger to me. He has no right to any photographs of me, whatsoever. But because there is a blood relationship between us, he thought my opinion invalid.
Let me make this clear to anyone who doesn't understand what I am saying:
Just because you are related to an individual, that doesn't mean you have any rights regarding them.
And yes, I mean that to be as vague as it sounds, because even parents don't have all the rights they think they do, in many cases. Uncles, aunts, cousins, and even grandparents all have less and less rights to a person depending upon the personal relationships formed between each individual.
Every being in my life is afforded whatever rights I deem fit to give them when it comes to my person, and nothing else. It is my life, so I make the decision about who gets to be involved in it.
By taking pictures of me that I was not willing to allow, this uncle of mine showed a lack of respect for me that I will not forgive. It shows the kind of man he is and the ignorance he possesses if he believes that he is entitled to anything involving me. Even a simple picture. The fact that he also outright refused to accept my rejection of permission shows that he is incapable of respecting me, and so I equally revoked whatever respect had been on loan to him for the duration of his visit.
Had this been the only case of its kind, I might not have wrote this whole long post. (Or I still might have, because the fact that I was dubbed the villain in this scenario is outright ludicrous.) But there have been many instances in my own pool of blood relatives and in the situations of others I know that prompted me to write this blog post.
It comes down to more than a few pictures that someone took without my permission. This is about the disrespect for me and the boundaries I had laid by someone who is related to me.
I have seen families disrespecting each other and their opinions so often, that it is quite sad that it is the norm. Which is why I have distanced myself from any individuals that should think of doing this to me.
I guess what I am trying to say is:
Your relatives have only as many rights to you as you give them. If you have a good relationship with them, like I do with my mom, than they probably have a lot.
There's are several adages to life that people would have you follow. Including: you must give respect to get respect. Yet, another says that respect must be earned.
Both of these are true. Though you don't have to give respect rather than show respect. If a person is unknown to you, you act in a respectful manner in order to earn their respect. It is ideal that they should also do the same for you.
My uncle did not do this for me, and subsequently lost any respect I might have either given or shown to him.
The one adage I live by is: do unto others as you would have them do unto you. He refused to respect me and so I acted in kind.
Perhaps the worst of it is that he probably didn't even realize what he was doing, because he thought he had the right to take home some remembrance of me. He didn't understand that he no longer had those rights.
And that's the thing: most blood relatives don't understand that their rights have been revoked or suspended. And if you're a minor or someone who has to respect the rules of the household, you are probably unable to show your relatives the errors of their ways. If that is the case, you have my empathy because I was also halted in the midst of the lesson my uncle needed to learn by that same respect for my grandparents, and I also grew up with a man who did not allow any dissent for blood relations to be vocalized often.
Rest assured, however, that there will come a day when you can put your foot down and say enough is enough. It's time that blood relatives learn that every interaction with you is a privilege, not a right.
So often, they think because you are related, that's a free pass to do and say whatever they want with you. That is not the case. And if your parents won't stick up for you, you have to stick up for yourself.
You have my blessings and my support, because I also live through this enormous amount of bullshit.
Tuesday, October 7, 2014
Not My Responsibility
So I'm here again. Not to review anything, exactly. Rather, more or less, to educate people (or incense my many rabid followers, hardy har har) about what exactly a review is for.
Now, as I've said before, I love GoodReads. I even adore and aspire to be as critical as some of the most reviled GoodReads "bullies" out there. (And yes, even I admit that they tend to jump down someone's throat right quick when they comment things the major band don't agree with. Yet, with some of the Trolls they've been through, not exactly sure I'd be very lenient either.)
This, of course, does not mean I encourage bullying or even would want to be as aggressive in the threads of my reviews as they have been. In fact, my very worst reviews have never been written (see previous post: Bad Reviews). All of which is beside the point when I give you the very straight fact:
I have every right to write the most vitriol, disgusting review on the planet … with no basis for it.
I do have that right. I retain that right. And to say that my review is meant for anything other than my own reminiscences later on is absolutely ludicrous.
My review is not for the creator's benefit.
My review isn't even for other consumers.
It is especially not meant as an instruction manual or a vanity script.
The only purpose of my review is to remind me what I thought of a product after experiencing it. Either so I know to keep tabs on a wonderful author, or steer clear of one that whines like a spoiled child not yet taught to hold its tongue while the adults are speaking.
I suppose now you may be wondering why I am ranting about this … again. (See: Opinions Reside Here) Well, I was traversing that wonderful verse called GoodReads and came across a response that struck me as odd, rude, and utterly false. Without naming any names, here is what the comment consisted of:
"I have no comment on your judgment regarding this book; whether you like it or not is irrelevant. However, a review should provide useful information about a novel and a basis for determining its worth. Your review is nothing more than a foul-mouthed rant which gives the reader neither. Try using the intelligence you claim to possess in your next review"
I was first struck by that opening sentence. My first thought: Excuse me? Bitch say wha-? How ignorant is this person that they think that whether or not a reviewer likes the product is irrelevant? In a consumer-based society, whether or not you actually like something is all that matters! And what possible consumer wants to look at a review and basically read another summary? Because that's all this commenter believes to be acceptable as a review apparently.
Secondly, a review should provide the honest thoughts of the reviewer. Anything else (quotes, memes, praise and criticism) is all extra padding. A review could be three paragraphs, three pages, or a single sentence. That still makes it a valid review. Anyone who doesn't understand that has no business even reading them.
Lastly, if a foul-mouthed rant is called for, then by all means: unload the fucking barrel.
This person, like many others I've happened upon across the GRs universe, seems to be under the delusion that reviewers are under some form of obligation. That it is our responsibility to give only clear, concise reviews that briefly highlight what the book is about, and whether or not we add our personal stamp of approval.
Some people are under the impression that it is a reviewer's responsibility to critique the works of others and give only constructive criticism in our reviews.
Many think we owe it to the public to leave only watered down versions of our passionate responses to these works within the public eye. (Omitting, of course, all those "foul" words which so sting their delicate senses.)
Well, please allow me to remove the veil covering those sensitive eyes:
It's not my responsibility.
I am under no obligation, whatsoever, to write a review that merely offers constructive criticism.
It's not my intent to make my reviews G-rated so that those with their panties in a bunch may rest a little easier.
And it is certainly no help to anyone to simply restate a summary. It quite defeats the purpose of a review, wouldn't you say?
Nothing in that comment can be considered accurate. Why? Because it is not our job as reviewers to do anything for the publishing industry, or even our fellow consumers.
It is not our responsibility to point out authors' triumphant points or their failures. But we do.
It is not our responsibility to write reviews that are filled with direct quotes, criticize plot choices, mention errors in editing, or applaud astounding characters. But we do.
It is not our responsibility to create reviews meant to be engaging and witty, or even filled with distaste and foul language. But we do.
This thing that we do as reviewers … it is not a job. It is not an obligation. It is not our responsibility.
It is a choice. Something that we decide to do whenever we bloody well feel like it. And the results will be our honest thoughts and opinions. Whether or not others wish to hear them.
So to say that a review is only meant for a certain reason … is complete rubbish.
There is only one reason to write a review: to remember how we felt about the subject. To document our experience and to one day go back and look again at all the lives we have lived, be they full of greatness or sorrow.
Whether we can do that in a single sentence, a couple of paragraphs, or even a few pages … that's for us to decide.
But it is certainly not our responsibility.
Now, as I've said before, I love GoodReads. I even adore and aspire to be as critical as some of the most reviled GoodReads "bullies" out there. (And yes, even I admit that they tend to jump down someone's throat right quick when they comment things the major band don't agree with. Yet, with some of the Trolls they've been through, not exactly sure I'd be very lenient either.)
This, of course, does not mean I encourage bullying or even would want to be as aggressive in the threads of my reviews as they have been. In fact, my very worst reviews have never been written (see previous post: Bad Reviews). All of which is beside the point when I give you the very straight fact:
I have every right to write the most vitriol, disgusting review on the planet … with no basis for it.
I do have that right. I retain that right. And to say that my review is meant for anything other than my own reminiscences later on is absolutely ludicrous.
My review is not for the creator's benefit.
My review isn't even for other consumers.
It is especially not meant as an instruction manual or a vanity script.
The only purpose of my review is to remind me what I thought of a product after experiencing it. Either so I know to keep tabs on a wonderful author, or steer clear of one that whines like a spoiled child not yet taught to hold its tongue while the adults are speaking.
I suppose now you may be wondering why I am ranting about this … again. (See: Opinions Reside Here) Well, I was traversing that wonderful verse called GoodReads and came across a response that struck me as odd, rude, and utterly false. Without naming any names, here is what the comment consisted of:
"I have no comment on your judgment regarding this book; whether you like it or not is irrelevant. However, a review should provide useful information about a novel and a basis for determining its worth. Your review is nothing more than a foul-mouthed rant which gives the reader neither. Try using the intelligence you claim to possess in your next review"
I was first struck by that opening sentence. My first thought: Excuse me? Bitch say wha-? How ignorant is this person that they think that whether or not a reviewer likes the product is irrelevant? In a consumer-based society, whether or not you actually like something is all that matters! And what possible consumer wants to look at a review and basically read another summary? Because that's all this commenter believes to be acceptable as a review apparently.
Secondly, a review should provide the honest thoughts of the reviewer. Anything else (quotes, memes, praise and criticism) is all extra padding. A review could be three paragraphs, three pages, or a single sentence. That still makes it a valid review. Anyone who doesn't understand that has no business even reading them.
Lastly, if a foul-mouthed rant is called for, then by all means: unload the fucking barrel.
This person, like many others I've happened upon across the GRs universe, seems to be under the delusion that reviewers are under some form of obligation. That it is our responsibility to give only clear, concise reviews that briefly highlight what the book is about, and whether or not we add our personal stamp of approval.
Some people are under the impression that it is a reviewer's responsibility to critique the works of others and give only constructive criticism in our reviews.
Many think we owe it to the public to leave only watered down versions of our passionate responses to these works within the public eye. (Omitting, of course, all those "foul" words which so sting their delicate senses.)
Well, please allow me to remove the veil covering those sensitive eyes:
It's not my responsibility.
I am under no obligation, whatsoever, to write a review that merely offers constructive criticism.
It's not my intent to make my reviews G-rated so that those with their panties in a bunch may rest a little easier.
And it is certainly no help to anyone to simply restate a summary. It quite defeats the purpose of a review, wouldn't you say?
Nothing in that comment can be considered accurate. Why? Because it is not our job as reviewers to do anything for the publishing industry, or even our fellow consumers.
It is not our responsibility to point out authors' triumphant points or their failures. But we do.
It is not our responsibility to write reviews that are filled with direct quotes, criticize plot choices, mention errors in editing, or applaud astounding characters. But we do.
It is not our responsibility to create reviews meant to be engaging and witty, or even filled with distaste and foul language. But we do.
This thing that we do as reviewers … it is not a job. It is not an obligation. It is not our responsibility.
It is a choice. Something that we decide to do whenever we bloody well feel like it. And the results will be our honest thoughts and opinions. Whether or not others wish to hear them.
So to say that a review is only meant for a certain reason … is complete rubbish.
There is only one reason to write a review: to remember how we felt about the subject. To document our experience and to one day go back and look again at all the lives we have lived, be they full of greatness or sorrow.
Whether we can do that in a single sentence, a couple of paragraphs, or even a few pages … that's for us to decide.
But it is certainly not our responsibility.
Sunday, July 13, 2014
Why Does It Have To Be YA?
Okay, this is just a thing that's spouting off my fingertips on just a tiny inkling of irritation. Don't know where this is going, but I'm gonna follow the breadcrumbs of my feelings and we'll see where we end up. So here we go:
So, I love GoodReads, first of all. Some people love it and others find it a dramatic cesspool. I'm of the former category because of the latter category. Sorry. Me lovey the drama ... at a distance.
Anyway, so I was over there reading some low reviews. (I needed a good rage-rant in order to catapult my writing motivation; it's my process to try and remind myself how much better my writing is compared to some household names.) So I was going through one of these and ended up reading the comments at the end. And I came to a startling revelation: a surprising amount of people weren't introduced to fantasy prior to reading … Twilight.
Say what?
Yep.
And the whole time I'm reading these comments--many of which explain fully my love/hate relationship with the series--all I could think was, Really? I'm so lucky I got started in fantasy with R. A. Salvatore and Weis and Hickman, and all the others I grew up with.
That's when it hit me. Not only did I begin with such marvelous creatures like drows and dragons … but I began with adults.
As a child, I was soaking in real fantasy books like a sponge. And I feel sad that I somehow have to differentiate real fantasy from YA fantasy.
Why is that?
Isn't--shouldn't--fantasy be … fantasy?
I'm sure books such as The Chronicles of Narnia and Harry Potter would agree. Despite how young Harry is throughout the series, I have yet to hear it referred to as YA fantasy. It is simply fantasy to us. Whether because it began as a children's series and has grown as we have, or because it set the stage for all the young heros to follow, I'm not sure.
Having grown up with books such as The Dragonlance Chronicles, and many others, I was immersed in many worlds and stories full of magic and cunning. Bravery and ambition. Flawed humans, devilish creatures, and tons of heartbreak.
I learned more from my real fantasy novels than real life has yet to teach me. Those novels, full of their backstabbing mages and loyal-til-the-end brothers in arms, even the strained lovers being tested by time and circumstance, taught me more about human nature than any other being in the world could do.
And I learned them from adults.
Not teenagers.
Even the most badass of the YA fantasy characters couldn't understand some of the things my real fantasy heros went through. And while I'm not here to bash YA works in any way, it just got me to thinking … why so much emphasis on YA works?
With the explosion of the YA market these days, I find more and more often that I despise inferior YA works. I've read so many YA fantasy books lately that I feel like I could explain all of them with just a list of the most reviled tropes in writing history.
Because that's what they are now.
A recycling of ideas or thoughts that used to be original. In a world that has done lost all of its magic. Alternate universes. Fantasy creatures living amongst us. Forbidden true love that defies common sense at every turn.
It's maddening. It's formulaic. And it is boring! (Which, let's face it, is the worst crime of all in the entertainment industry.)
Somehow, though you can find tropes in thousands of Adult novels, all of these things seemed to have exploded with the rise of YA genres. And when people declare that Twilight was their first introduction into fantasy, I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Simply because YA fantasy and the fantasy I grew up with are nowhere in the same vicinity.
I suppose you're all just sitting here saying, "Well, if it's so bad, why don't you just go back to your 'real' fantasy and leave the YA world alone?"
To be honest, I'm trying. I've gotten to the point where I'm so exhausted by the false portrayal of teenagers and the tropes presented that I can't even look at most YA books without curling my lip in disgust.
Then I look at the stories I write. How many of them portray young characters? Almost all of them. How many tropes have slipped past my critical eye? I'm not sure. But do I want them--those beloved teens in my head--to be defined by what is available in the YA world right now? Absolutely not.
So the next logical step: change the world.
Ambitious, I know. But what is a world without a little ambition?
I'm so tired of having so limited choices as far as decent books go--YA or Adult. So why don't we blur the lines? Better yet, erase them altogether. Why is it that so many people these days are stuck reading YA because not enough Adult books pack the same punch? Why do so many readers believe Adult books couldn't live up to the adventures of wild youth and the romance of insecure young teens?
Do you know why Nicholas Sparks books are so popular (despite the fact that the movies are always better)? Because he doesn't believe that you can love so passionately or lose so much as just a teen or just an adult. Though his writing isn't the greatest, the fact that he knows that emotions don't just burn away after youth is gone is what makes his books so popular. Especially amongst adult women.
I understand how the market works. Teen girls buy the most, so they're published for the most. But why does that mean that a female protagonist between 15-17 is the only available choice? Why can a girl of 16 not be marketed to with a book consisting of an MC aged 20+? And why are women who are 20+ unable to find decent books that entertain them without looking in the YA stacks.
I guess what this sounds like is that I'm trying to singlehandedly advertise for what they are calling the "New Adult" genre. I'm not. What I am trying to say is: when it comes to a genre, maybe age shouldn't be a factor. Why can't we go back to marketing books based on the best in their genre, instead of lumping them into age categories first?
If I want to read a fantasy, I want to read the most recommended fantasy of that time. Whether it's about a time-traveling magic treehouse with two little kids or an epic filled with dragons and warlords.
If I'm in the mood for romance, I should have the option between a story about a teen's first kiss scenario and a raging romance between two grown, consenting adults. I shouldn't have to be forced to comb through two sections of the store looking for something 'just right'. Can we please just put the eroticas on top shelves and the too-sweet-for-non-naive-people ones on the bottom? What's so wrong with that?
The question really is as simple as:
Why does it have to be YA?
Where's the other age groups in life?
Why can't our young readers buy good books about adult men and women; and why can't adult women and men find a good adventure without searching the YA books?
Why on earth are there lines drawn here?
So, I love GoodReads, first of all. Some people love it and others find it a dramatic cesspool. I'm of the former category because of the latter category. Sorry. Me lovey the drama ... at a distance.
Anyway, so I was over there reading some low reviews. (I needed a good rage-rant in order to catapult my writing motivation; it's my process to try and remind myself how much better my writing is compared to some household names.) So I was going through one of these and ended up reading the comments at the end. And I came to a startling revelation: a surprising amount of people weren't introduced to fantasy prior to reading … Twilight.
Say what?
Yep.
And the whole time I'm reading these comments--many of which explain fully my love/hate relationship with the series--all I could think was, Really? I'm so lucky I got started in fantasy with R. A. Salvatore and Weis and Hickman, and all the others I grew up with.
That's when it hit me. Not only did I begin with such marvelous creatures like drows and dragons … but I began with adults.
As a child, I was soaking in real fantasy books like a sponge. And I feel sad that I somehow have to differentiate real fantasy from YA fantasy.
Why is that?
Isn't--shouldn't--fantasy be … fantasy?
I'm sure books such as The Chronicles of Narnia and Harry Potter would agree. Despite how young Harry is throughout the series, I have yet to hear it referred to as YA fantasy. It is simply fantasy to us. Whether because it began as a children's series and has grown as we have, or because it set the stage for all the young heros to follow, I'm not sure.
Having grown up with books such as The Dragonlance Chronicles, and many others, I was immersed in many worlds and stories full of magic and cunning. Bravery and ambition. Flawed humans, devilish creatures, and tons of heartbreak.
I learned more from my real fantasy novels than real life has yet to teach me. Those novels, full of their backstabbing mages and loyal-til-the-end brothers in arms, even the strained lovers being tested by time and circumstance, taught me more about human nature than any other being in the world could do.
And I learned them from adults.
Not teenagers.
Even the most badass of the YA fantasy characters couldn't understand some of the things my real fantasy heros went through. And while I'm not here to bash YA works in any way, it just got me to thinking … why so much emphasis on YA works?
With the explosion of the YA market these days, I find more and more often that I despise inferior YA works. I've read so many YA fantasy books lately that I feel like I could explain all of them with just a list of the most reviled tropes in writing history.
Because that's what they are now.
A recycling of ideas or thoughts that used to be original. In a world that has done lost all of its magic. Alternate universes. Fantasy creatures living amongst us. Forbidden true love that defies common sense at every turn.
It's maddening. It's formulaic. And it is boring! (Which, let's face it, is the worst crime of all in the entertainment industry.)
Somehow, though you can find tropes in thousands of Adult novels, all of these things seemed to have exploded with the rise of YA genres. And when people declare that Twilight was their first introduction into fantasy, I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Simply because YA fantasy and the fantasy I grew up with are nowhere in the same vicinity.
I suppose you're all just sitting here saying, "Well, if it's so bad, why don't you just go back to your 'real' fantasy and leave the YA world alone?"
To be honest, I'm trying. I've gotten to the point where I'm so exhausted by the false portrayal of teenagers and the tropes presented that I can't even look at most YA books without curling my lip in disgust.
Then I look at the stories I write. How many of them portray young characters? Almost all of them. How many tropes have slipped past my critical eye? I'm not sure. But do I want them--those beloved teens in my head--to be defined by what is available in the YA world right now? Absolutely not.
So the next logical step: change the world.
Ambitious, I know. But what is a world without a little ambition?
I'm so tired of having so limited choices as far as decent books go--YA or Adult. So why don't we blur the lines? Better yet, erase them altogether. Why is it that so many people these days are stuck reading YA because not enough Adult books pack the same punch? Why do so many readers believe Adult books couldn't live up to the adventures of wild youth and the romance of insecure young teens?
Do you know why Nicholas Sparks books are so popular (despite the fact that the movies are always better)? Because he doesn't believe that you can love so passionately or lose so much as just a teen or just an adult. Though his writing isn't the greatest, the fact that he knows that emotions don't just burn away after youth is gone is what makes his books so popular. Especially amongst adult women.
I understand how the market works. Teen girls buy the most, so they're published for the most. But why does that mean that a female protagonist between 15-17 is the only available choice? Why can a girl of 16 not be marketed to with a book consisting of an MC aged 20+? And why are women who are 20+ unable to find decent books that entertain them without looking in the YA stacks.
I guess what this sounds like is that I'm trying to singlehandedly advertise for what they are calling the "New Adult" genre. I'm not. What I am trying to say is: when it comes to a genre, maybe age shouldn't be a factor. Why can't we go back to marketing books based on the best in their genre, instead of lumping them into age categories first?
If I want to read a fantasy, I want to read the most recommended fantasy of that time. Whether it's about a time-traveling magic treehouse with two little kids or an epic filled with dragons and warlords.
If I'm in the mood for romance, I should have the option between a story about a teen's first kiss scenario and a raging romance between two grown, consenting adults. I shouldn't have to be forced to comb through two sections of the store looking for something 'just right'. Can we please just put the eroticas on top shelves and the too-sweet-for-non-naive-people ones on the bottom? What's so wrong with that?
The question really is as simple as:
Why does it have to be YA?
Where's the other age groups in life?
Why can't our young readers buy good books about adult men and women; and why can't adult women and men find a good adventure without searching the YA books?
Why on earth are there lines drawn here?
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Bad Reviews
Okay, I know this is a site full of legitimate reviews about a variety of things. But let's face it, some things should just not be put in print.
Take this one case:
I just finished this one book last night. It was awful. Completely horrible. Too short (barely topping 100 pages and had no right to be called a novel in any way). Fantastic failures in the editing department. And the worst case of character development I have ever had the misfortune to read. And don't even get me started on that not-even-24-hours-of-knowing-one-another romance and that heart-to-heart "trust one another" crap. As if that wasn't the kicker, let's throw in the biggest trope of all: a love triangle with the bestest guy friend ever. My Gods, this book was the epitome of torture.
But I digress.
Suffice it to say, this book was so horrible, I would rather burn a copy than write a review.
That's kind of what I'm doing here. I went on a tour once through this house where a Yale professor used to live. As a side project, this guy would read and review books. And in his entire life, he never wrote a single bad review. Simply burned the manuscript he had been given.
So that's kind of what I have to do here. Instead of putting a name to this atrocity and blackballing the author with this kind of catastrophe their entire life, it shall remain nameless, and hopefully his/her future writing endeavors will make this mistake an absolute obscurity.
Which is why no review of mine shall exist in a form connected with this work. If what I have already mentioned is not enough to cause you to steer clear of this, then nothing will.
Take this one case:
I just finished this one book last night. It was awful. Completely horrible. Too short (barely topping 100 pages and had no right to be called a novel in any way). Fantastic failures in the editing department. And the worst case of character development I have ever had the misfortune to read. And don't even get me started on that not-even-24-hours-of-knowing-one-another romance and that heart-to-heart "trust one another" crap. As if that wasn't the kicker, let's throw in the biggest trope of all: a love triangle with the bestest guy friend ever. My Gods, this book was the epitome of torture.
But I digress.
Suffice it to say, this book was so horrible, I would rather burn a copy than write a review.
That's kind of what I'm doing here. I went on a tour once through this house where a Yale professor used to live. As a side project, this guy would read and review books. And in his entire life, he never wrote a single bad review. Simply burned the manuscript he had been given.
So that's kind of what I have to do here. Instead of putting a name to this atrocity and blackballing the author with this kind of catastrophe their entire life, it shall remain nameless, and hopefully his/her future writing endeavors will make this mistake an absolute obscurity.
Which is why no review of mine shall exist in a form connected with this work. If what I have already mentioned is not enough to cause you to steer clear of this, then nothing will.
Saturday, March 22, 2014
Opinions Reside Here
You are forewarned: this is a site for my friends and I to share our opinions. Our opinions. As in: we get to post what we think. Which means (and here's where I get confrontational), you have no right to be offended by anything that you read here. And I'll tell you why:
An opinion is defined as a view or judgment formed about something, not necessarily based on fact or knowledge.
Focus on that for me. Just for a minute.
Okay, as living creatures, we all have opinions. We have a fundamental right to think what we want about something. Fact or fiction. It's inevitable and we have the right to our own opinions. We even have a right to express them.
Just remember: we also have a right to disagree.
No two people have the same exact opinion on anything. And that's a good thing. What kind of world would we live in if we were all the same? Our opinions are allowed and encouraged to be different. It is how we grow as human beings: by learning to look at differing opinions and finding a way to accept one another as separate and unique individuals.
You have the right to your opinion. I have a right to mine. We each have the right to disagree.
Simple right?
One catch…
You do not have the right to be offended by my opinion. It's mine. Meant for me and no other. Based on experiences/emotions/beliefs/circumstances, or whatever other criteria I've chosen to base it on, that relate solely to me.
You're very much entitled to disagree. I encourage this. And we'll have a nice, long, grown-up discussion about the differences in our opinions. There's nothing like a good, healthy debate.
However, I'm not going to tolerate individuals who think it's okay to get upset that I said/thought something they didn't like. It's not your call if what I say or think is right or wrong. And I'm certainly not going to allow you to think it is.
Now, you're probably asking yourself why I even bothered to post this long and confrontational missive. Well, the reason is deplorably simple: reviewers are under attack. Especially those who have shared harsh, truthful, sarcastic, or vitriol reviews. Hell, even those who merely write a somewhat negative review have been pummeled into submission.
This will not happen here. I won't allow it. Because no one has the right to tell me that my thoughts/reactions/opinions are wrong.
Undoubtedly, I will write some 'unpopular' reviews here. And while I welcome/relish comments, I won't be told that my opinions are wrong. By anyone.
Hence the reason this is being posted right away. To serve as a warning.
An opinion is defined as a view or judgment formed about something, not necessarily based on fact or knowledge.
Focus on that for me. Just for a minute.
Okay, as living creatures, we all have opinions. We have a fundamental right to think what we want about something. Fact or fiction. It's inevitable and we have the right to our own opinions. We even have a right to express them.
Just remember: we also have a right to disagree.
No two people have the same exact opinion on anything. And that's a good thing. What kind of world would we live in if we were all the same? Our opinions are allowed and encouraged to be different. It is how we grow as human beings: by learning to look at differing opinions and finding a way to accept one another as separate and unique individuals.
You have the right to your opinion. I have a right to mine. We each have the right to disagree.
Simple right?
One catch…
You do not have the right to be offended by my opinion. It's mine. Meant for me and no other. Based on experiences/emotions/beliefs/circumstances, or whatever other criteria I've chosen to base it on, that relate solely to me.
You're very much entitled to disagree. I encourage this. And we'll have a nice, long, grown-up discussion about the differences in our opinions. There's nothing like a good, healthy debate.
However, I'm not going to tolerate individuals who think it's okay to get upset that I said/thought something they didn't like. It's not your call if what I say or think is right or wrong. And I'm certainly not going to allow you to think it is.
Now, you're probably asking yourself why I even bothered to post this long and confrontational missive. Well, the reason is deplorably simple: reviewers are under attack. Especially those who have shared harsh, truthful, sarcastic, or vitriol reviews. Hell, even those who merely write a somewhat negative review have been pummeled into submission.
This will not happen here. I won't allow it. Because no one has the right to tell me that my thoughts/reactions/opinions are wrong.
Undoubtedly, I will write some 'unpopular' reviews here. And while I welcome/relish comments, I won't be told that my opinions are wrong. By anyone.
Hence the reason this is being posted right away. To serve as a warning.
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