Sorority of Satire: Never Judge a Book by its Lover

For my last book club pick, I went with Curtis Sittenfeld's Eligible.  Not because I'm a Jane Austen fan, but because I'm a fan of Sittenfeld's Romantic Comedy.  Eligible is (probably?) the latest in the many modern takes on Austen's Pride and Prejudice.  Which gave me pause because -- and please don't send hate mail -- I've never liked that book.  I found Elizabeth Bennett kind of cold and Austen's writing tedious.  I know, I know.  It's a classic, not to mention the archetype for every romantic comedy ever.  Even the famously critical Sheldon Cooper couldn't argue its excellence when trying to denigrate things Amy Farrah Fowler loved on The Big Bang Theory, conceding, "He has too much pride, she has too much prejudice.  It just works."  That said, I was intrigued by Eligible as a pop culture comment on a novel that's never far from the zeitgeist.

And you know what?  It was a hoot.  This time Elizabeth is a New York City-based women's magazine writer.  Her big sis Jane is a yoga instructor and lives in the Big Apple too, and their three younger sisters Mary, Kitty, and Lydia are unemployed and live with their parents in a crumbling mansion in Cincinnati.  I always knew that Mr. and Mrs. Bennet were caricatures, but I never appreciated just how laughable they are until Sittenfeld reincarnated them as a health insurance objector and shopaholic hoarder.  Even Elizabeth's dislike for Darcy rings truer when she overhears him disparaging her hometown to his bestie and Jane's love interest Bingley.  Darcy, by the way, is an ER doc, a role that imbues him with all the arrogant pomp he needs to do his namesake justice.  Not only that, but he's still super rich and master of Pemberley.   

But it's not just the characters that emerge as more vivid.  I really enjoyed the language.  It's just dry enough, sharpened by wit and insight and, yes, heart to echo the vibe of the original in a way that doesn't, as I like to say, "stick in your throat."  Add some very present-day social scenarios, all of which reveal Elizabeth to, surprise surprise, be the most traditional as well as the most forward-thinking of the Bennetts, and you have a silken satire.

So hats (bonnets?) off to you, Curtis Sittenfeld, for softening my misinformed prejudice toward this timeless title.

Maybe I'm a little like Elizabeth after all.          

Something Bold, Something True, Something Borrowed, Something Glue-y

Dress: Material Girl, Macy's
Shoes: Bucco, Kohl's
Bag: Delia's
Belt: Marshalls

Electric Geometric Necklace 

Pretty Ponies Hairpins 

Lazy Daisy Days Necklace

 Chockful of Charms Bracelet

Let's face it.  These posts are always about something old/bold, new/true, and/or blue/glue-y (borrowed not so much, unless you count my occasionally unauthorized shots of other people's yards).  But they aren't always about books, and they're almost never about marriage.  Except for this one, which is about a book about marriage.  Sort of.

It's not often that I read something that hangs on in my head for days.  But The Marriage Plot did, with all the tenacious nerve of a drunken guest who just won't leave a wedding.  Written by Jeffery Eugenides, the same man who gave us The Virgin Suicides and Middlesex (full disclosure: I've never read Middlesex; I just like referencing it.) comes a coming-of-age novel about love, commitment, and, as always, the big, bad world.

It begins in 1982 and is about Madeline, Mitchell, and Leonard, all seniors at Brown.  Madeline is an English major with a university president father, Mitchell is immersed in religious studies and is the son of hard-working immigrants, and Leonard is a troubled genius scientist from a broken home.  The first "oh, my" moment occurs when prim and proper Madeline flees graduation to visit Leonard, her estranged boyfriend, in the psych ward.  Brainy and beautiful, Maddy is so besotted with Victorian lit that she's gone and hand-picked herself her own dark horse hero.  No nice guys for her, especially not her nerdy friend Mitchell.  Mitchell is, in many ways, the Ducky of this story (even though I kept picturing him as Andy Samberg).  Kind and sensitive, he's a salt-of-the-earth Midwesterner whose mission is to search for truth and wisdom, no small part of which means protecting Madeline.  But his earnestness is no match for Leonard's brand of brooding brilliance.  After graduation, Leonard is chosen to join an illustrious research team on Cape Cod -- and he's asked Madeline to go with him.  Dejected but not beaten, Mitchell backpacks through Europe to study religion, ending up in an ashram in India.

The Marriage Plot starts out slowly.  In the beginning, Eugenides spends a lot of time discussing literature, philosophy, and what it means to be an English major.  Which can sometimes be a little heavy.  But it's necessary to lay the foundation, shaping this book into one of the best I've ever read.  It's got all of the ingredients for a great American novel: themes of class, gender, religion vs. science, first love, unrequited love, and the great what-if that yawns, chasm-like, after graduation.  True to his title, Eugenides plays with the marriage plot, that old staple of Austen, Brontë, and other Victorian-era authors, just as Maddy and her classmates play with that old lit parlor trick deconstruction, turning everything sacred on its head.  Clever and canny, Eugenides cuts to the heart of human relationships and the compromises we make to satisfy social norms.  All three main characters struggle to achieve an unattainable ideal.  Leonard, despite his misdeeds (and there are many), is a victim of the very biology he seeks to master, just as Madeline is held hostage by her allegiance to the subservience of Victorian mores.  And Mitchell . . . well, Mitchell tries to be the white horse guy.

Before I go on, I should say that I'm about to do that thing I sometimes do, which is to break the blogger-reader anti-spoiler contract in the spirit of some English major-y analysis.  So, if you want to read this book (instead of just my interpretation of it), then for the love of Derrida, stop reading this post.  On a related note, to anyone who thinks that this post has taken too much of an ivory tower turn for a blog about clothes and crafting, I say this: Bling thing, you make my heart sing.  You make everything -- glue-y.  Consider that my version of the dancing squirrel in that old Nick at Nite commercial about viewers who can't handle a serious message. 

Okay.  Now that that's out of the way, we can dive into that spoiler.  At one point, Mitchell writes Madeline a letter in which he begs her not to marry Leonard.  Or, as he puts it, "Do not marry that guy!"  He professes his love in an endearing, self-deprecating, very Mitchell way and tells her that she has options, all but saying that he'll offer her his hand if only she refuses Leonard's.  But Madeline never responds and does marry Leonard -- only to have it all come crashing down Gothic novel-style a mere month later when he relapses and lands in the hospital.  A kind of mad-woman-in-the-attic-and-Heathcliff hybrid, Leonard represents all that is paradoxically caged and unhinged in Victorian literature, and it's too much for Madeline -- and for him.  So he deserts Madeline and eventually (and cruelly) asks for a divorce, leaving Mitchell, ever waiting in the wings, to pick up the pieces.  He and Madeline hang out, get close, and then get together.  But it's not the storybook ending that Mitchell's always imagined.  Something's off.  Mitchell knows it, and Madeline knows it, and although it kills him to do it, Mitchell brings up the letter.  He tactfully retracts his thinly veiled but ever-present marriage proposal in favor of a much more self-sacrificing proposition -- namely that Madeline, unlike all the Victorian heroines before her, choose not to tether herself to another guy, even if that guy is him, and instead follow her dream to become a Victorian lit scholar.  This was meant to be Mitchell's good deed, not nursing the sick in India.  Madeline accepts, and we know that this is what she's wanted all along.  Because The Marriage Plot isn't about Madeline and Leonard or even Madeline and Mitchell; it's about Madeline.  It's about idealism and expectations and cutting through all that to get to what's real and important.  That's what makes this book so heartbreaking.  That happy endings aren't what you were taught, that to get a real happy ending, you have to give something up.

Damn, Jeffery (Eugenides).  No wonder you won a Pulitzer.  Even if it was for Middlesex, which everyone on Amazon liked so much better.

So there you have it.  Great reads and fresh beads. That's how we roll at The Tote Trove. 

Sugar and Spice and Everything Dice: Part 3

 Fabulous Felt Dice Barrettes

Fabulous Felt Blue Dice Barrette

Top: August Silk

Skirt: Forever 21

Shoes: Payless

Bag: Xhilaration, Target

Belt: B Fabulous

Sunglasses: Michaels

*Please scroll down to see the Introduction, Part 1, and Part 2 of this epic post series. Or, if you stumbled upon this post while wandering the wilds of the internet and have no way of navigating this blog (if that's a thing; I'm not sure, crafts are my wheelhouse, not code), then click here and here and here.

Living near Atlantic City, I've seen my fair share of crazy casino carpets.  You know.  Wildly patterned to camouflage countless spilled cocktails and confuse craps players into parting with even more coinage.  And I've always found them to be kitsch-tastic.  Which was why I 1) so enjoyed making these Fabulous Felt Dice Barrettes, and 2) was excited to learn that the latest installment of the Shopaholic series, Shopaholic to the Rescue, finds Rebecca Bloomwood and friends in that other gaming mecca -- Las Vegas.   That's right.  It's time to roll the dice on Part 3 for the big series finale!  Will it be lucky sevens or scary old snake eyes?  Let's take a gamble (er, gander), and see.

Now, I should begin by saying that unlike the stars of our previous two profiles (Sparks and Schumer), Rebecca Bloomwood is fictional.  That said, I've long suspected that she's a lot like her creator, Sophie Kinsella (which is, by the way, a pen name for Madeline Wickham; hey, if you shared the last name of a Jane Austen villain, then you'd probably adopt an alias, too).  Partly because of her candid, first-person writing style, partly because of this blurb on the back of Confessions of a Shopaholic:

"Sophie Kinsella is a writer and former financial journalist.  She is very, very careful with her money and only occasionally finds herself queuing for a sale.  Her relationship with her bank manager is excellent." 

See? Rebecca is Sophie and Sophie is Madeline.  Easy peasy lemon squeezey (which is, it just so happens, an expression I hate, but one that's surprisingly strong-willed.  Not to mention limey in origin, not unlike Rebecca-Sophie-Madeline.)          

   

In Rescue, which follows the cliffhanger in Shopaholic to the Stars, Becky's father has disappeared into the desert, and her bestie Suze isn't speaking to her 'cause Suze's hubby ran off with Mr. Bloomwood (not in a romantic way; it's more of bromance).  Suze and Tarquin are having problems, but then that's what happens when you marry your cousin (even if he does own a castle).  Becky and Luke, however, are tighter than ever, with nary a cross word or secret credit card statement between them.  Still, Bex is so distraught about Suze and her father that she can't even bring herself to -- gasp -- go shopping.  

Rescue hinges upon what is arguably the most intricate plot of the Shopaholic series, which is to say that it offers up a host of tasty twists and complications.  Will Mr. Bloomwood and Tarquie ever re-emerge, mirage-like, outside of Caesar's Palace?  Will Rebecca ever find her namesake, a rainbow-haired psychic temptress from Mr. Bloomwood's past?  Will Bex's old nemesis, Alicia Bitch Longlegs, ever stop being sweet and show her true colors (in my opinion, wicked white and bilge-worthy beige)?  And most importantly, will our beloved shopaholic ever find it in her heart to shop again?  Because charming although this book is, Bex is always at her best when spotting a shiny new something that just may make her the girl-with-the-yellow-hat-slash-plaid-peacoat-slash-day-glo-pink-diamante-earrings (they say "diamante" a lot in British books, which I love even if it is just a posh word for rhinestones).  Because shopping is all about possibility, and Bex is the (sale) poster girl for life's optimistic what-if's.      

So that's a wrap on Sugar and Spice and Everything Dice.  If you remember nothing else, then remember this: keep it sweet; keep it spicy; keep it dicey.  Also, don't wear beige or wander into the desert.  

Decoden Deja Vu and Damsels Who Dig Mr. Darcy

I Heart Lemons and Fun Stuff Bib Necklace

Top: Macy's

Skirt: Bubblegum, Macy's

Shoes: Ami Clubwear

Bag: Apt. 9, Kohl's

Belt: Wet Seal

 I Heart Limes and Owls Bib Necklace

Sweater: Marshalls

Skirt: Material Girl, Macy's

Shoes: Guess, DSW

Bag: Nordstrom

I Love Lemons and Dinosaurs Bib Necklace

Cardigan: So, Kohl's

Camisole: So, Kohl's

Skirt: H&M

Shoes: Ami Clubwear

Bag: Nahui Ollin

Belt: Tournier Everything's $10

I Heart Limes and Sweet Stuff Bib Necklace

Crochet top: Mossimo, Target

Tank: Worthington, JCPenney

Skirt: Marshalls

Shoes: Iron Fist, Journeys

Bag: B&B, Ocean City

Belt: Wet Seal

"I think being creative is a waste of time and money."  

This startling sentiment was uttered from the always colorful Jennifer Coolidge, this time through the mouthpiece of Elizabeth Charming, a brassy babe on the make in the unlikely milieu of romantic comedy spoof Austenland.  A reenactment experience catering to Jane Austen addicts, Austenland offers romance gigolo-style in the form of amorously attentive "players" purporting to fall head over heels for the patrons.  Coolidge and Kerri Russell, who plays the auspiciously-named heroine Jane, are lamenting over said suitors (one of whom is Bret McKenzie of Flight of the Conchords fame) while embellishing hats when Ms. Charming makes her (at least to this crowd) unfortunate observation.  Not that there isn't a grain (or perhaps I should say seed bead) of truth in what she says.  Being creative can indeed be costly and time-consuming.  For example, I recently decided to restring my "fun stuff" bib necklace series since discovering that the beads I initially used (gasp!) fade after just a few wears.  (I'd made a couple of the necklaces for myself, which was how I came to know this.)  At first I thought it might be better to just quietly chuck them.  After all, restringing meant going to the trouble and expense of researching and purchasing new beads in addition to the actual reworking of the jewelry.  Not to mention that blabbing it all here on the blog probably wouldn't be good for business.  Still, my love for my bauble-bedazzled (or, as the Japanese would say, "decoden" bedecked) bibs triumphed, and silence has never been my strong suit.  So here are the upgraded versions, refortified with new plastic neon Delish beads.  

As I'm sure any fairy tale (and, in the end, even Ms. Charming herself) would attest, a few extra evenings and expenditures never stood a chance against such a fashion rehash of a happy ending.