Susan Hated Literature

What’s this, what’s this? A post from me that’s more than a review?
What’s this, what’s this? More than just an excuse?

Honestly, I don’t know what it is, but you can blame JP for it. Him and his complimentary comment. I guess flattery really will get you every where^[1] Part of the reason I haven’t been blogging as much recently is that I’ve been going out more often. Consorting with people in real life and getting all my insane inanities out that way. Sharing the pointless with real life people as opposed to you good online souls.

But it is also because I just don’t seem to be as chirpy as I used to. Not that I’m unhappy or moany or anything like that. It’s just I’m not as chirpy^[2]

Maybe it is just that I’m getting tired of other people and their stupidities. They really do make me wonder^[3] Nothing major, don’t get me wrong, just the little things that make me raise my eyebrow in a quizzical manner^[4] Like, at the World Street Performance Championships^[5] there a while back we were all gathered around, sitting on the grass, eating ice-creams, bumping into strangers, crowded in to watch the wierdo^[6] as he swallowed swords. But next to me is a woman, fair enough, nothing wrong so far, but she has a bike. And instead of realising that having this great hunk of metal in the middle of a crowd of people is a little silly she decides that it’d be a good idea to keep it next to her. It was a foldy up one, so things coulda been worse. But at the same time, come on! Made it very difficult to sit comfortably with a bloody pedal pressing into your ankle.

Is it just me or is that rude?

And another thing, scooters. Not the motorbike type, the other version, you know, skateboards with handlebars. You know them right? Anyways hands up who among you think that it is a good idea to hurtle along through morning rush-hour pedestrians? yeah, didn’t think so.

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I’m sure you all got the title’s reference? Right, Nightmare before Christmas peoples.

As I walked to work I mentally composed this post. It was to be full of rage and bile; hatred spewing forth. Red in tooth and claw. There was to be angry words, four-lettered ones at that, screams of frustration.

And all because of those free newspapers.

Well, more to do with the way the giver-outers of the newspapers have developed the habit of stepping slightly into your path and forcing you to swerve to avoid smashing in to them. I’ve no problem with ignoring the “Free morning Metro” pleas. I don’t read them so I see no point in taking them. I don’t want one and that is that.

So I intended to moan and gripe and bitch about them and the annoyance that they are. I mean, if I wanted a paper I’d take one, right? So you getting in my face is really not going to have any impact, unless, of course, I smack you on the nose. That’d have an impact.

That was to have been the subject of my blog today. Fucking free-newspaper-giver-outers and their irritating ways. But then I got to work. And it was lovely and quiet. Most of the exams are over, the students are gone away, and there was cake. And now I have a lovely cup of tea, and lo, all is right with the world again.

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I know what you are thinking, that the post title is to do with the road I walk to work, and I suppose it is, a little, but it fits even more, on account of the whole good intentions, and the intent I earlier had. Man, i is a fricking genius.
Or just lame. Either works.

On my usual walk to work I encounter a considerable number of those free-newspaper-giver-outers^[1] And all of them annoy me. Apart from the one I always take the Metro from. I always get it from the same guy^[2] in the general vicinity of The Spike^[3] And I usually carry it in my hand for the rest of my journey. So it is obvious to all that I have a bloody paper^[4] Yet still, they stand in my^[5] way with the bloody free papers, or even worse stick them out in front of me^[6] as I go by.

But, whatever! I can deal^[7] with that, although I did prefer that week, or was it two, when they reduced numbers and just left loads of the basket thingies around. Anway, that is beside the point.

This week there were the paper-peoples^[8] but also a few other randoms giving out crap^[9] One of whom filled my hands with L’Oreal product. Yay, you might say, but you’d be wrong. Cause it is L’Oreal men expert. So manly the stuff itself is actually blue^[10] Could it get manlier? And, as I’ve mentioned before on this blog, I is not a man. And I think that this is pretty obvious^[11] So why did this depositor-of-free-stuff-you-don’t-want-and-are-trying-to-avoid go out of her way to give it to me?

And… what is to be done with it? None of the fellas I know would be bothered with that sort of product. Plus, I saw that spanner from Lost advertising it on d’telly. And if Jack, aka Matthew Fox, aka annoying-preachy-pesky-tortured-soul-who-wants-to-help-save -EVERYONE-by-controlling-them-to-within-an-inch-of-his-life recommends something then it must be the spawn of Satan. Or at the very least the left over pieces of a hatch, or polar bear. Something I want nothing to do with.

So, peoples of www-land, what can I possibly do with three whole sachets of L’Oreal Men Expert?

They have arrived.

Without warning, every single year they come, hordes of them. Milling about the city. Causing untold damage. Spreading out, taking over, like a virus of some sort. No bus is safe. No street remains unoccupied. Swarming about. Legions of them descend upon the city, and for months we know nothing but irritation. And annoyance. There is plenty of that too.

They’re here.

Yes, that’s right, the bloody invasion of the Spanish students has begun. I hadn’t seen any before this week, but on Tues as I made my way home from work I spotted a group of teenagers, all with the exact same blue bag. I knew what that meant. And yesterday there were more, gathered about the spire, lurking, preparing to move out, getting in everyone’s way.

I hate Spanish student season.

Why is it that they must travel in groups of no fewer than ten thousand? And why is it that they move at a speed that is slower than a snail’s? And why is it that the spread across the expanse of the streets and force other pedestrians to either slow to their crawl or force their way through.

And teenager’s are annoying. Irritations when they are the usual groups of 2, 5, whatever, loud and obnoxious. But when you bump up the numbers you bump up the irritation factor. Screaming, shouting, urgh, it is enough to turn anyone into a Grumpy Old Woman.

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_{Title is a line from Poltergeist, and of course the most famous line from that film is “They’re here”.}

Wow, can you believe that I’ve been doing this Thursday Thirteen stuff for 23 weeks now?

I was wondering what to do for this week’s Thursday Thirteen but then I got an email from Carl, linking to this post and providing perfect inspiration. So this T13 is a couple of responses to that post. And yes, I know, I shouldn’t feed the troll, but what the hell, I may as well. Have you ever noticed how much fantasy readers read? It’s really astonishing. … Of course, they’re really proud of this chew-through-the-phonebook capacity. Proud? Not so much. I don’t care how much I read, why would a word count of what I’ve read be something to be proud of? The 80 people who did the “challengeâ€? read four or five books from different fantasy sub-genres (Like, I guess, books with two-handed broadswords vs. books with crossbows) Ah, ignorance. There really is nothing like it is there? Talk about moaning over something that you really know nothing about. Here’s the prob, though: There isn’t anything remotely “challengingâ€? about this project. If you find it challenging to read a bunch of fantasy books, you need to … well, I don’t know what you can do, frankly. I was going to say “take some classes at your local community college,â€? but I’m not sure that would do it. Again, ignorance shines through. The challenge was to read books that you wouldn’t usually. It had nothing to do with the “quality” of the books themselves. It was simply to take a look outside your comfort zone. If I’m totally honest, I didn’t really do that as I’m already a fantasy fan and so my challenge was to read new authors[1] or books[2] that I’d been putting off. And the books … that shining duo of modern literature, Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman … The Princess Bride, miscellaneous stuff by That Goddamned Terry Pratchett … a bonecrushing load of Neil Fucking Gaiman So I’m guessing you see something wrong with those authors? What exactly is that? Weis & Hickman write entertaining, if derivative fantasy. The Princess Bride is a wonderful book. Terry Pratchett is a genius. Neil Gaiman? You are giving out about people reading Neil Gaiman? And yet you haven’t given me a single reason why you dislike these authors. Also Sheri S. Tepper – and by the way, Tepper readers, why didn’t any of you go with The Gate to Women’s Country? It’s the one thing she’s written that deserves to go down in history as a significant work of feminist lit. Read it. Why? Because you say so? I’ve read some of Tepper’s work. It is okay, but she gets far too preachy for my personal taste. I’ve no problem with works of fiction having a message, but I really don’t need to be hit over the head with a giant hammer to get the fact that being hit in the head hurts. Also, instead of simply stating your viewpoint as an absolute fact why not try to persuade me. Give me one reason why I should read The Gate to Women’s Country and maybe I will. Then again, maybe I won’t. But none of these books are challenging. They aren’t daunting in structure or syntax … only a tiny minority of them will still be talked about 50 years from now. They’re bedtime reading — superlatively crafted bedtime reading in some cases, but bedtime reading nonetheless. And this really is the crux of the matter isn’t it? You want us to read “challenging” books. You seem to want to foist your interpretation of what makes a great book on us. But here’s the thing, that isn’t what this reading challenge was about. You seem to have misinterpreted the whole exercise. Who cares what people will be talking about in fifty years time? But also, if you haven’t read a book how will you know whether or not it is worthy of discussion? I won’t know if the De Vinci Code is really a great thriller or a mindless piece of crap until I read it. Like, who cares if a bunch of nerds want to congratulate themselves for finishing American Gods in three nights flat. Again with the straw man argument? We weren’t reading these books in order to pat ourselves on the back. Merely to read the books, maybe enjoy them, and share that experience. The only congratulating being done was because a target had been set, and met. And there is nothing wrong in that. But not one review or site I visited was congratulating itself on reading as many books as possible in as short a time as possible. But you know, feel free to make stuff up to suit your post. Even though these people have nothing whatsoever to do with me or my life (beyond feeding a sort of amorphous anxiety about the future of Real Literature) they really, really irritate me I’ve no problem with you being irritated by us. Feel free, but you know what an easy solution would be? To switch off. If you don’t like something, and it doesn’t have any connection to you then don’t watch/read/interact with it. It is simple. Don’t like Big Brother, then don’t watch it[3] Don’t like CSI[4] then change the station. Don’t like this reading challenge, then don’t play along. I just can’t stand it when nerds act all superior about their stupid crap. I read a lot too, you know. But I don’t want a freaking medal for it. Who was acting superior[5] Who wanted a medal? So cut it out, nerds! Take the FanDumb challenge: This month, read some fantasy-inflected Real Lit. Like Jonathan Carroll or Madison Smartt Bell. Or Mark Danielewski or Jonathan Lethem or Kazuo Ishiguro. You won’t finish as fast, but you’ll annoy me a hell of a lot less. Who says I won’t finish them as fast? As though that is even a goal! Also, who says we haven’t read these authors. I don’t just read one thing. I’ve read Carroll, and I’ve read Weis & Hickman, and I’ve read Tolkien, and I’ve read Ishiguro, and I’ve read Homer, and I’ve read Plato, and I’ve read Mieville, and I’ve read Gaiman and Pratchett and Rowling and Whitman, and Heaney, and, well I could go on, but why bother? I don’t just read one genre, I’ve read fantasy, and sci-fi, and post-colonial studies, and historical fiction, and so-called Literature, and modern classics and Shakespeare and science and history and fanfic[6] and, well, pretty much any genre there is, apart from tentacle porn[7] So who do you think you are, that you can tell me, or any one else, what they should be reading? But you know what the biggest problem with that post was? The tone of it. Full of “I’m looking down my nose at you, you smelly silly stupid fantasy reader you”. That isn’t really likely to change anyone’s mind is it? You want to persuade me to try a new author by telling me that the ones I enjoy are shite? Yeah, I don’t think you are going to get very far with that attitude. Tell me why you like something, why you love something, and then I probably will give it a go. I might not like it. I might disagree with you. I might hate it. Doesn’t mean I’d have to insult you. Taste is entirely subjective. The only reason that the canon of classics exists is because a group of people decided that these books were somehow worthy. They enjoyed them, or got something out of them, people wanted to read them and so they were read. Any regular readers here will know that I’m not a huge fan of labels and defining X as not being Y. To me, most of what is great uses different elements mixed together. After all, that is what life is isn’t it? For example, Firefly is a sci-fi show[8] it is, afterall, set in space, but it is also a romance, a war story, a crime caper, a drama, a comedy, a character study. Sure, I use labels, but I’m also prepared to look beyond that label, because a label is just that, something stuck on, for convenience’s sake. I have absolutely no problem with people disagreeing with me, or liking what I hate, or hating what I love. Just don’t think that because I read and enjoy crap like Jilly Cooper that I am incapable of reading and enjoying more “worthy” tomes. But please, if you think you know anything about me because I participated in one reading challenge? Yeah, nuff said. Links to other Thursday Thirteens! While Sleepwalking The Goat Rodeo Books. Lists. Life Everybody lies The Written World Wyvernfriend The hidden side of a leaf Modern Musings A place for everything SciFiChick (leave your link in comments, I’ll add you here!)

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Don’t you just love it when, as you are drifting off to sleep, annoying teenagers start conversing right outside the window. Course, I am on the second floor, but these were teenage girls screaming at each other, and our street is quite the echo-y place at the quietest of times.And then someone else arrived, a father or an elder brother and started shouting at one of them to “get the fuck home”. Which resulted in yet more screams and then tears and then more shouts. But finally silence.

Bloody people, living their lives.

And I’m betting I’ll have a lot more of it to deal with. Summer has arrived, which of course means the end of school. Which means teenagers having so much more free time, and we all know what the devil does with idle hands don’t we?

Speaking of idle hands, if you have some, can you go here and vote for something. Cause it doesn’t seem to be working. Which is odd, as it totally was. I must have changed something somewhere… Nevermind, problem solved, all down to whether or not I had the www in front of the susanhated bit. It has to be there for the voting to work.

Do you ever watch people crossing the road and think to yourself, they deserve to be knocked down? Not killed, just bumped a little, a warning to wise up, you know.

Every morning as I walk to work I see the fools, looking to check how close the traffic is before dashing out into the middle of the road. Maybe they’ve all been playing games like Frogger, and believe that the real world is just like the virtual one. And all that’ll happen if they get hit is that they’ll have to start again.

Now, I’m not for one moment saying that you should only cross when the green man is up there^[1] but if you feel a sudden breeze as a car rushed by behind you, well, you’ve misjudged your “personal safety zone” haven’t you.

I’m not even going to mention cyclists, cause, that’s a whole nother level of wanting to die.