Complicated Katniss Feelings:

Having just seen Catching Fire (twice) last week and chatted through the books with my sister Lauren as she reads them for the first time, my Hunger Games feelings -- never very far below the surface -- are currently a force to be reckoned with. And you know how it is with me and feelings: if they are there, I will investigate them, for better or for worse.

I've mentioned numerous times here that I highly value Suzanne Collins's trilogy. From a writing standpoint, I'm sure I've discussed the pacing, the characterisation, and the honesty. From a philosophical point of view, I respect and admire the questions Suzanne Collins brings up, as well as the way in which she addresses them. Collins asks hard questions while managing to steer away from soft answers. I have no doubt that these qualities -- along with an authentic-feeling dose of family loyalty and romantic confusion -- are why I feel such a connection to these books as well as to the movies which do such a laudable job of pulling the stories from page to screen. But my experience isn't unique; half the world is in love with this series and its beautifully rich cast of characters.

In amongst all the Team Peeta and Team Gale fanfare, though (and of course I have thoughts about this, too, I mean -- how could I not?), honestly I think I'm cheering for Team Katniss.

I relish young adult fiction; it makes up a fair percentage of what I read and what I write. But I don't always relate to its heroes. The most lasting young adult heroine I've really felt a kinship to was Jo March, of Little Women. There was something about her blunt and manly exterior coupled with her desperately optimistic and maybe even a little fantastical thought life that made sense to me. She didn't have to beat the boys off with a stick. She was too busy inventing worlds and dreams and wrestling with her own identity. Besides which, she didn't really have the face or figure that garnered that kind of attention. She left that stuff to Meg, and Amy.

But then Katniss came along and though Katniss Everdeen is nothing like Jo March, there is still something inherently relatable about her. Perhaps it's that, amongst all the sword-wielding, purpose-filled young men and women who move from weakness into strength to fulfill their destiny, Katniss remains firmly within sight of her weakness -- at least in her own eyes.

Katniss is a heroine who does what needs to be done. She stays alive. She fights for the safety of her loved ones. She becomes the symbol, the figurehead, for an entire cause. Yet the rightness of the cause can never truly outbalance the wrongness of what Katniss is forced to do. Throughout her journey, Katniss doesn't attain some mystical higher plane of realisation; she does not embody the single-minded and pure heroine ideal because she can never truly be certain that wrong things become right things when they are done for the right reasons. Katniss is always going to wrestle with this part of herself, and it's what makes her story so compelling -- and, particularly in the trilogy's final episode, so wrenching.

Some teen characters, even those in bestselling series, are paper doll figures who have one quirk (usually endearing, never grotesque) to remind us they're human. Often, though, what makes them the hero is their ability to pursue the cause (whether it's a romance or a rebellion) at all cost. This is what makes them "good." Katniss, and in fact, most of the other chararacters in the Hunger Games, is neither all good nor all bad. Sometimes, she is a conflicted mess.

Heroines must leap forward into action in a split second. They must think on their feet. They must throw aside their own comfort and their own desires. All these things and more Katniss does and is, but unlike the mythic hero, the two-dimensional one, Katniss cannot merely charge forward leaving rubble in her wake. Katniss constantly looks backwards, never entirely rested or resting in what she has done. She is selfless when it comes to her sister Prim -- the only person Katniss knows without a doubt that she loves unequivocally -- but she is no angel. What Katniss is, is fiercer and stronger and kinder than she herself knows. She is not always good, but she recognises good and grasps desperately after it.

I think this is why I love Katniss, and why she's such a relatable character. Easy fiction, cheap fiction, wants to give us characters without loose ends, with polished sides so that they fit neatly into recognisable boxes. Katniss Everdeen is nothing like that.

Unexpected commentary on the world of Austen:

It is excellent having a little brother who will sit and snuggle with my mother and I while we watch the latest adaptation of Emma. Not only does it make my literary and fangirl heart happy, but it also provides unique insights into the film. When Mr. Elton first came on screen, my brother dismissed him as "creepy" (he was right, of course).

Later in the movie, when Mr. Elton delivered his romantic riddle to Emma and Harriet, Tain was just as intrigued by the riddle's solution as the characters were.

"Cour'ship!" Tain said, surprised.
"Yeah," I replied. "Do you know what courtship is?"
He looked at me. "It's food."
I paused for a second. "Uh, no -- not corn chips. Courtship. It's quite different."
"Oh," he said.

(By the way, this adaptation of Emma, starring Romola Garai and Jonny Lee Miller, is truly delightful. Their faces alone make this the best thing ever. It's like a catalogue of quirky expressions).

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Conversations:

The First Rose -- bravo you for stepping out into new things! I hope the choir proves to be a fabulous experience :).

H.C.H. -- thank you, friend! x

Simplythis -- thank you for getting it! I definitely have my doubts when I make these rambly posts at times. "Am I the only person on earth who thinks this way?" :)

Mothercare -- lovelove! (besides, I learnt it all from you)

SandieT -- thanks so much for reading and commenting. It's sometimes sad when our needs are unmet by the very environment we thought would provide all the answers, but I guess that every time we are individually challenged to extend love to one another, that becomes the church in action in small, personal ways. PS. I miss the beautiful land of WA; enjoy your time there, however long or short it may be :).

Abbie -- likewise, thank you for being so continuously encouraging and loving in spite of my failings! x

Rebecca Simon -- those friendships are rare, aren't they? -- but maybe their rarity only makes them more precious.

Elisabeth -- we get to be "more than conquerors" by repeatedly learning that we can actually survive outside our comfort zones :).

Asea -- that is such a beautiful image: the idea of different threads pulling together to create a friendship, with each shared thread making that friendship stronger. I love it!

Mitanika -- you are lovely; your comments always make me happy :D.

Caitlin -- ah, I love that you commented knowing that I would rejoice in whatever you have to say, regardless of the fact that you felt you didn't have the "right words"; you know me well and you were right. Thank you! xx

Amanda -- thank you, Amanda. It seems like it's a feeling/understanding so many of us have experienced. xx

Chantel -- you are so right. And perhaps it's the awkward social barriers and mystery etiquette which makes us recognise those truest friendships for the treasures that they are.

Julia -- :D xx

For about fifty reasons, I need to remember this:

"I've spent too long wanting what was taken from me
and not what I was given."

Caspian, Voyage of the Dawntreader [film; 2010]

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Conversations:

Amanda -- sushi is the best! Healthy and yum.

Caitlin -- another reason we are meant to be friends. :)

Katie -- henceforth I shall call them sushi fish as well. It makes sense to me!

Samantha R -- and also to tell me I was wearing my seatbelt wrong, apparently.

It's finally here!

I've honestly never anticipated a movie's release more than this one. The Eagle of the Ninth is one of my favourite books ever, so it was with mingled delight and terror that I first heard it was being adapted into a film. What if they completely destroy it? What if they make people hate the story and then never pick up the book? What would Rosemary Sutcliff think?

Film production on this one has to be the slowest ever and I've been lurking the internet for ages in hope of a trailer (I was even trawling for info yesterday). Then tonight, an excellent friend (thank you so much, Mitanika/L!) pointed me to the first glimpse. Exciting!



Yes, I'm sorry; Marcus is played by Channing Tatum. And it looks like they've changed the story up a bit (if you read the book -- and you must -- then you'll recognise what's different), but it appears they've left intact what makes this tale powerful: the challenging dynamics of the tenuous friendship between slave and master, woven into a sort of mental and spiritual coming-of-age. And you can't go wrong with Romans, some Donald Sutherland, and a bit of Jamie Bell.

I'm looking forward to seeing this one (and I'm going to start a re-read of the story in celebration).

Pixaresque:

This morning, after nearly drowning in several surprisingly deep puddles left by some heavy duty rainfall, stamping and posting an overwhelming variety of packages (including bridal shower invitations Mother's Day mail, and a chubby birthday parcel for my 3-year-old niece), and returning several [overdue] items to the library, I jumped at the chance to buy the Pixar Collection of Short Films while it was on sale at K-Mart. I've had my eye on it for a while because I love those little shorts. To me, they're the film-making equivalent of a short story: a focussed storyline centering around a limited number of characters with minimal distractions and a complete tale with real emotion which shines the spotlight on what might be a rather tiny moment.

This evening, during an early dinner before Lauren headed out for an evening of Bible study, we watched a couple of them and then a feature on the beginning of the Pixar animation franchise. From a nerdy-but-I-know-nothing-about-it perspective, it was cool to watch the evolution of the computer animation world from its baby steps in the eighties when individual frames would take 8 minutes each to render (and that was a few years into the endeavour, when things were moving faster) and Pixar was just a bunch of inspired geeks doing all-nighters and spending six months on a single two-minute film. Amazing.

But from a creative perspective, it was especially cool to see the intense correlation between inspiration, rational thinking, and serious hard work. For every Pixar short, the inspiration and the brain wave probably factors in at about 2% of the entire work process (yes, I just plucked that number from the air. But I'm not kidding). Someone gets an idea, someone else thinks it's cool -- and then there is hour upon hour of modelling, graphing, layering, rendering, and whatever else they do. What's more, the folks at Pixar did this kind of stuff for about ten years before anyone even took notice. But they cared about what they were producing, and they were willing to put the hard work in no matter what.

I'm pretty sure this is a valuable lesson for anyone who wants to be creative and not just think about doing things, but actually do them.

PS. Sorry to have been all missing in action here at the blog. I have about a dozen posts in mind but I've been busy doing laundry, writing essays, making invitations, not forgetting to go to the events scribbled in my diary, and talking to my various family members who seem to live everywhere but here.

Of dragons and freckle-nosed boys:

I'm taking a little break out of my study day (the second draft on my paper about the ancient Mesopotamian king Sargon is done. I just thought you might like to know) to tell you to go see How to Train Your Dragon.

Now, as my friend Ruth and I have discussed, movies that have been recommended to you with zeal and hype and confetti never really live up to the promises surrounding them, so I will keep my confetti firmly in its jar and simply say that I loved this one. It's everything I look for in a good story, converted to the screen -- a vivid world with a rich history, beautiful descriptions, understated humour, a coming-of-age story arc, and an endearingly quirky lad as the main character.

I'm adding this one to my list of movies that make me feel like writing.

Grace and chocolate.

Last night my sister and I watched the 2000 film, Chocolat. I relished much of it -- 1950s dresses! chocolate! Juliette Binoche! Johnny Depp! Judi Dench! amazing soundtrack! -- while not liking other elements.*

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Essentially, Chocolat (more serious fairytale than realistic drama) is the story of a Frenchwoman, Vianne, who travels from town to town dispensing grace along with chocolates, but never quite finding it for herself. Vianne is the true heroine of the story, offering forgiveness to those who hurt her, and working to mend the cracks in the small community where she has currently settled. The baddies of the story -- because all good stories have a baddie of some kind -- are the townspeople, who are so wrapped up in legalism and a series of unspoken village laws that they will break the spirit of anyone who refuses to conform.

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The problem is, Vianne is a pagan, unwed mother. Her enemies are the church folk who are caught up in Trying to be Good. It makes me a little sad when I see Christianity portrayed in the media as a series of rules that, when followed, suck the life from its disciples, turning them into emotional automotons and harsh moral judges. And that's how I felt when I watched Chocolat. The very people who ought to be showing grace are the ones who don't even know what it looks like.
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But hasn't this happened throughout much of history? Between the Pauls and the Tertullians and the Luthers of the church were the Simon Stylites and the Crusaders and the Zwinglis, men and women who heard something of grace but who failed to see its power to save. Instead, their zeal -- right and true in itself -- led them down a path of legalistic action which, in its varying extremes, denied the grace they claimed to serve.

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The gospel without grace isn't the gospel. His grace and love come first, then our obedience follows. If we reverse the order, we are only trying to save ourselves and the people we believe we are helping. If I speak in the tongue of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.
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On a surface level, Chocolat appears to be glorifying a rebellion against the status quo, showing that the true heroes are the ones who live in freedom and tolerance. To an extent, I agree. But freedom isn't freedom until we have been set free -- and the freedom that Christ brings is the only freedom that can free us from ourselves and show us grace. His grace comes to us in the form of His love. For us to share that love with others would be a true rebellion -- a rebellion against a status quo which has prevailed since the fall of Eden. Fortunately for me, the grace that was there then is here to help us share grace now.
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*Therefore, not a blanket recommendation.

Weekend XI :: the untaught harmony of Spring

I didn't make that up -- the untaught harmony of Spring; it's a line of poetry from someone brilliant whose name escapes me, and it (the line of poetry, not the name) bounced into my memory when I was considering how to sum up my weekend. I have decided I can't, really, properly. It was all sunshine and flowers and taking things slow and dusty feet and perspiration. So I shall let the pictures tell you instead. Start at this picture and click your way through using the right arrow in the browse box.

One part of our weekend that I didn't record in pictures was The Lame Movie Fest we unintentionally found ourselves participating in. We thought: a slow weekend, everyone together for once... Sounds like movie time. Alas, even though I haunted my movie-choosing best friend, PluggedIn, and my mother and sister browsed the shelves of our local Blockbuster, we couldn't think of anything new and wonderful that everyone wanted to see. So we settled instead for something old and wonderful: The Great St. Louis Bank Robbery and The Bedford Incident. Vintage Steve McQueen (a la, pretty much one of my favourite actors of all time) and Sidney Poitier; you can't go wrong, right?

Oh yes. The Great St. Louis Bank Robbery began incredibly slowly. I am fond of old movies, but this was s-l-o-w. Dad fell asleep, early on, but the rest of us hung on for a glimmer of promise. It surfaced, eventually, developing into a slightly Hitchcockian, atmospheric film with some cool camera angles (and the obligatory shrieking, ticking-clock-style soundtrack).

The Bedford Incident started at a slightly quicker pace, with richer characterisation (since I'm making comparisons, think Hemingway this time) and more relaxed acting. But after slowly, slowly dragging us into the plot, both movies let us down. All I will say is: if you enjoy movies where all the main characters (that you have just spent the last ninety minutes trying to learn to like) end up either a) shot, or b) blown up, these may be just the films for you.

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also:

• Today I made up a meme and I think you should try it because I'd really like to see your handwriting and a list of your current favourite things.
• Tegan, you wanted to see cards when I made them? I loaded a picture of one for you. It's not very special, but in future you can see any new cards in this photo set.

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conversations:

Alissa -- off to stream some This American Life!

Caitlin -- bravo for phonetic pronunciations, I say! 'Stow-match' definitely makes more sense :). And, yes, we are loving having a little nephew to dote upon (even if we must dote long-distance-ly).

Meaghan -- inevitable is rather tongue-twisty; I had to think twice as I typed it :). And I'm so happy you got the Don Quixote/porridge reference. I never know if anyone else will make sense out of my weird twistings of the English language. But I know I can count on you :).

Weekend IV

Another waterlogged weekend that wasn't quite able to make up its mind whether to be truly wintry or not. Saturday was a pottering kind of day that included dawdling through work left over from the week, and all those other little thingy kind of jobs that you tend to save for Saturdays. In the afternoon, we made a belated effort to actually do something weekendish and headed into hitherto unknown parts of the city for an Expotition (as Pooh would have put it). It was late in the day and that part of the city was quiet, making it one of those lovely times when you feel as though you have stepped out of your own world and into someone else's.
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My sister and I found a store which is like what we dream of owning if we actually had our own shop again. It was actually two businesses which shared a two-storey building. The bottom one was a collection of boutique new and very cool vintage clothes (oh, plus this amazing jewellery made by a Vietnam vet from melted-down bullet casings). The top floor (only accessible by a tiny, creaking staircase) was filled with gorgeous textiles (crocheted donuts and cupcakes, oh my!), gifts, and home decor. Plus, it was white-painted brick and had giant windows letting in the soft afternoon light, making it incredibly cosy.

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We browsed through delightful antique places, too, one of which is getting my award for Tidiest Antique Store ever. The neat lines and rows of silver jewellery and snuff boxes and all manner of other things -- labelled with immaculately-lettered little cards -- were a delight to my obsessive-compulsive little heart. We also came across a boxy little store which turned out to be a violin-maker's workshop. Oh my. Can we all shout 'Dickens character!' in unison? We pressed our noses to the window and looked in awe over the amazing array of finished and half-made instruments. Little pieces of curled-wood and half-formed pieces littered the work bench and it was so cool.
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Afterwards, we headed down to Southbank where the action at the markets was slowing down towards day's end, and finished up by having an earlyish dinner of fish and chips at The Deck Cafe. Home again and no washing up (yay!) so we sat to watch a very thrilling, very thought-provoking M. Night Shyamalan movie.
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Sunday everyone rose early for a trip northwards for a motorbike swapmeet. I stayed home with the little bro who wasn't too well, and we listened to music and read and had a slow breakfast. Too many late nights caught up with me and I had a nap before church, waking with that horrendous zombie feeling that always makes you wonder if it was worth it. Apparently it was, because the energy kicked in and church was a huge blessing. Not many turned up last night (combination of State Youth Games and the rain, maybe) but they missed a great sermon -- the final in The Grace Effect series. Jens shared an amazing quote from Spurgeon which I'll share with you all if I can hunt it out. It sort of takes the Gospel and pins it on you for right now and every moment to follow. Very good stuff.

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And Lauren and I were delighted because the new version of Persuasion was on the ABC last night. We'd been waiting eagerly for its release ever since we first heard of its making. The book has been special to us since we read it as part of an informal book club with a friend and I discovered Anne Elliot to be the Austen heroine I could most relate to (owing to an unfortunate penchant for too much introspection, probably). We celebrated the completion of the reading by watching the seventies mini-series of the story. Unfortunately though, it was, well, rather boring. Persuasion is quite an analytical story with not a lot of action; to drag it out over many hours didn't quite do it justice (it did make the highlights of the story seem Very Exciting Indeed, however). So we were thrilled to see the BBC tackle this new version -- and it lived up to expectations. There were a few tweaks with the storyline here and there and a few modern touches, but they didn't spoil it for me. If you're a fan of Austen and period dramas, I'm pretty sure you'll love Persuasion. The DVD is due for release in Australia the first of July. I'm thinking this'll be one to add to the collection.
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Weekend II

We had a very super weekend here. Friday involved a bunch of girlfriends, a dinner of Asian-inspired finger food (think satay chicken skewers and spring rolls), and a marathon viewing of the BBC mini-series North and South. It's always a delight to share something so great with those who are strangers to it, so my sister and I loved watching our friends' responses as they watched it. In between each episode, we got caught up talking about etiquette and the constraints of the class system and the inevitable longing for the return of chivalry.

Saturday did not contain a hoped-for sleep-in. We were all up early and Monique-the-cool's scooter would not start so Lauren ran her into work before coming back to join the rest of us for a hot-cooked brekky out on the balcony. Responsibility and a grave sense of study urgency drove Jocelyn home soon after but Lauren II (not 'my' Lauren) stayed on and we had a wonderful morning chatting about life and God and families.

The afternoon and Monique's return from work rolled round remarkably quickly so we spontaneously made a little trek out to the Point and ate fish and chips while eavesdropping on strangers' conversations and watching the tide come in and cover the sandbar. An awesome way to spend an autumn afternoon.

Sunday involved the long-awaited sleep-in (I calculated I'd slept four and a half hours of the past forty) and then a very late breakfast, followed by an afternoon of pottering around, washing, and ironing. We had a late lunch/dinner of fresh salad, beef and bean tacos out on the balcony at 4.30 while the strains of David Crowder and friends filled the air, then we headed into night church for the second sermon in The Grace Effect series. Grace is something I need so much to learn about, and I'm finding the sermon series to be incredibly valuable.

I'll leave you with one snippet that stood out to me in particular: Salvation by works is a form of rebellion against the gospel of the cross of Christ. Wow. I guess I had always looked at the reliance on works as a confusion with the gospel rather than a rebellion against it. But to try and work our way into fellowship with God is essentially saying His saving gospel is not enough. Yikes.

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conversations:

Lizzie B -- well, we will take whatever we can get of your sharing, even if you do feel like the sixteen-year-old girl blabbing about her nonexistent trip to the mall.

Caitlin -- I'm so glad the poem was a blessing; may it encourage you often! And ::hugs:: back!

ASourceofJoy -- I'm childishly excited that we're reading Rose From Brier at the same time. Yay!

Staish -- The artwork in Frankie just makes me want to do collages all night long.