The People of Paper vs. Light Boxes/Rant on Racism

Why does the act of blogging feel like I’m picking my bones off the floor and trying to put them together on a table and my head is always hooked to my ass for some reason? Speaking of Light Boxes, I’m half way through Shane Jones’ novella about a fable like town at war with a Godlike figure called February that is snatching up kids and perpetuating winter in some really pretty ways. The controversy of sorts involves Jones’ blatant plagiarism of Salvador Plascencia’s novel The People of Paper, which is far more complex not to mention gorgeous. Jones has a town declare war on February after Plascencia’s protagonist declares war on Saturn. Jones’ character obsesses over mint after Plascencia dabbled in limes. C’mon people. I like them both. I do. I’m just saying. My issue is that Jones’ book is getting all this hype and published through Penguin despite the obvious lack of originality. In an interview with Nashville Review Plascencia expounds much better than I can on his trouble getting People of Paper published at all in addition to the quarrel with Jones. Sure we can say, nothing is really new exactly. Authors borrow from one another all the time. We can say it’s inspiration. We can also say Mary Poppins is super annoying. Does that solve the racist undercurrent in the tiff between these two authors, these two books, the publishing industry as a whole? Nope. I have to leave it there before I say something embarrassing hahaha.

Oh, teaching is going pretty well lately. I’ll say no more so as not to jinx it.

Tonight: White wine on sale for $6.99 plus $2.00 off if you buy with chicken. I bought chicken.

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When Giant Lesbian Potatoes Attack!!

A few days ago I finished reading a collection of comic strip episodes by Alison Bechdel called “The Essential Dykes to Watch Out For”.  Not too many years ago I read the acclaimed graphic novel by Bechdel, “Fun Home,” which lived up to the promise of the title.  The episodes in the Essential follow the characters, a rambunctious overly political bunch of lesbians (as if there are any other kind), through the past twenty-five years.  The book doubles as an illustration/how to guide for raunchy girl on girl sex and political world history, at least it started off that way.  During the latter years all the angst and zeal are muted by a rather bleak perspective on the relationships between the characters and the general hope for a prosperous the world.  The characters have significantly less sex and the world looks significantly less jovial.  Is that what it means to grow up? If so, that Toys R Us theme song from a couple of decades back comes to mind.  Everything looks rather bleak these days.  Is it really the lack of money everyone has or is it something else?  Oh, but the book isn’t entirely a justification for prozac usage.  There are wine-sputteringly funny moments including the nightmare one of the heroines has involving, yes, a giant lesbian potato (as if there are any other kind). More of that is what the world needs right now.  More random blissful absurdity just for the heluvit.  I’m over the stock market and the tea parties and the terrorism and the volcanos.  I want more giant lesbian potato humor in my day!  Now.