Why I Love Cassandra Clare - Part 1

It's all down to lines like this: "Let me give you a piece of advice. The handsome young fellow who’s trying to rescue you from a hideous fate is never wrong. Not even if he says the sky is purple and made of hedgehogs.” ~ William Herondale in Clockwork Angel, Book 1 of the Infernal Devices Trilogy.

I'm only on Page 19 and already I've found 84 things I absolutely adore about this book!

All I Need Is A Stormy Day

Did anyone else like blowing off school/ college/ work on a particularly grey, blustery, rainy day to stay home with a good spooky book and a mug of hot chocolate (or a can of coke, in my case)? There's NO sensation that compares to being indoors, warm and dry and snug, while a storm rages outside and the sea and sky are pewter meshing into graphite, until they are indistinguishable from each other. And to indulge in a ghost story while the howling wind and rattling windows provide the soundtrack? Bliss. Geez, I sound like I belong in the Addams family. But anyway.

This is where I lived when I was in Bombay:

A gorgeous apartment on the 14th floor with a sea-facing bedroom. It was breathtaking during the monsoons, and if you opened the windows at opposite ends of the flat, you created a wind tunnel with force to rival a jet engine: I loved it! So you can understand my fascination with abandoning everything else when it rained and curling up on the window seat with 'Frankenstein' or 'It' or 'Pet Sematary' or even 'Edgar Allen Poe's Short Stories' or 'Ruskin Bond's Ghost Stories from the Raj'. Where I'm going with all this rambling is that after almost a decade I managed to stumble across a book that invokes the same delicious little tingle down my spine and makes me look over my shoulder for shadows:

Rosemary Clement-Moore's 'The Splendor Falls' is typically categorized under the Young Adult Section, and why not - the protagonist is a teenage girl dealing with loss, love, jealousy, ghosts and magic. But to describe it so is to make it sound trite and predictable - and there one would do it a gross disservice.

In Sylvie Davis, Clement-Moore has managed to create a character not too many may be able to identify with initially - I mean, seriously, a ballet prodigy who has travelled the world and now finds herself unable to dance ever again at the age of 17? Beautiful, wealthy, world-weary at that age? Difficult to relate, and rather difficult to like - sardonic (I often like that, don't get me wrong, but I generally prefer my sarcasm without a side-order of bitchy), self-involved (okay, I can kinda relate there, obviously), self-pitying and singularly uninterested in anything but ballet (something I've never been interested in, having all the grace and elegance of a doped-up hippopotamus). But her connection to her deceased father, her awareness of the shortcomings in men, her love of the earth and life itself and her internal struggle to stay sane (and prove her sanity to herself, if no one else) make her grow on you - like an annoying roommate you start liking after you read her diary and find out she worries about the size of her butt too.

And the town, with its old-world beauty, down-South homey-ness, and busybody neighbours seems like it could be any town in any country, and that's where one starts feeling a pull: the place, the people, the stories that could be in your neighbourhood, your family, even.

But the real beauty in this book lies in the simple decriptions of chilling places and events: life and loss through the Civil War, floods and yellow fever creating a ghost town, an old prison echoing with the remnants and revenants of past cruelties inflicted, a lover being murdered, a scorned woman killing herself and being doomed to repeat the cycle for eternity, a cold broken man murdering a child. And through the centuries, the Davis family homestead where the very walls seem to hold their breath to stop the gasp of fear, and the woods outside pulsing with magic and misfortune and memories of loss. And superimposed over it all, the very believable and identifiable emotions of greed and teenage complacence. The tone and cadence of the story never veer into maudlin or overly dramatic, always striking the right balance of intriguing and downright creepy - enough to keep your attention from wandering without rolling your eyes and thinking "Seriously? We're supposed to buy this crap?"

The only grouse I had while reading this book is that I live in a desert country where rainy days are few and far between - a little grey light and moaning wind would've set the stage perfectly to go with the shivers down my spine.

Confessions

Growing up, and attempting to be a tomboy (not very successfully, though…how many tomboys had waist-length hair and were scared to climb up to the garage roof?), I’d rather have submitted to Chinese bamboo torture than admit I had the soul of a romantic. Actually, I’d still rather go through that. And ‘soul’ and ‘romantic’ might be pushing it a bit… it’d be more accurate to say I have the reading preferences of a mushbucket.

In what was an extremely rare occasion in my life, a couple of weeks ago I had dinner with 7 women. I don’t think I’ve ever actually had that many female friends in my life. But I digress. During the course of the evening we all ‘fessed up to our guilty pleasures – ‘Gossip Girl’, ‘Glee’ and, of course, Romance Novels. Guilty on all 3 counts for me. I’ll go into my Chuck Bass and Mr. Schu obsession (not together, ew….although, can you imagine Chuck Bass singing? Sacrilege!) another time, but ah, romance novels…

A friend’s mom got me hooked onto them when I was 15 (prior to that I just devoured Sweet Valleys, remember those? Gawd, what with the teachings in those books, it’s a miracle I didn’t turn out to be a sociopath/ kidnapper/ psychotic loon/ boyfriend stealer…oh, wait, nevermind). I was bored out of my skull after the Class 10 board exams in Delhi, and at that age where I wanted to go out and party but wasn’t allowed out past 10 p.m., so I turned my already-voracious reading appetite into something of legendary proportions (out of sheer desperation, I even read cookbooks. But I never tried out the recipes, of course. That would’ve involved people eating my cooking and dying horrible painful deaths). Then Aunty M, ignoring my upturned nose and disdainful expression, lent me The Christmas Special Bonus Edition 3-in-1 Mills & Boon (I kid you not, they actually fit all that in the title page). And that was the beginning of the end for me… forever after I would expect men to have a tough exterior with a soft heart (like baked alaska?), a cleft chin (face ass!), a strong jaw, eyes like melted chocolate/ summer skies/ leaves/ glaciers/ insert-cliché-here. And be at least 6 feet tall (yeah, that hasn’t worked out too well for me in the past. The last guy? An inch shorter than me. Aiyo). Never mind the fact that I hardly had an alabaster brow or a heaving bosom (not at that age, at least).

Anyway, my absolute favourites, without a doubt, were the ones where the protagonists started out positively loathing each other and then, bam! Ended up in love. As a romantically-challenged (read: deprived, stunted, innocent) 15-year-old, I couldn’t quite fathom HOW they got from hate to love, and the whole sexual attraction thing was mystifying in the extreme, but man, it made for entertaining reading! Sometimes I wonder if that basically screwed me up for my early romances, because I have to admit to being attracted to guys I argued with a lot (but I think that had something to do with the fact that they matched wits with me. At least in the past. Nowadays, I just get annoyed). And I expected (and got) a lot of drama in relationships (which is why it’s SO much easier to live the life of a nun now). But the one thing that I’m ashamed to admit prevailed over the years is the dream that there would one day be a man who’d sweep me off my feet, be as besotted with me as I was with him, and we’d live happily ever after. Shocking, I know, since I’ve always stridently proclaimed that the last, absolute LAST thing I wanted or needed in my life was a man. Not that I lied…I’m happier without one, especially of the caliber I generally meet. But oh, to meet one who’s like a romance novel hero? And not gay? I’ll take that!

I read somewhere recently that romance novels have warped women’s ideas of romance and their hopes and expectations of a man. I kinda agree with that, since I now expect all men to be assholes who are secretly good guys. Turns out, I’m only half right.

I Won, I Won, I Won!!

...Though not at poker, sadly, where I'm continuing on a month-long losing streak. Sigh. BUT! Even better! I won the competition being held by FriendsOfBooks for Meenakshi Reddy Madhavan's new book: Confessions of a Listmaniac. Eeeeeeee. Okay, so I'm being all fan-girl here, but I can't help it... I've followed her blog for..oooh 4 years now, and then loved her first book, You Are Here, and now I'm one of the 3 winners selected to get a signed copy of her new (and undoubtedly hilarious) book. Say it with me: Eeeeeeeeeee!

The competition involved listing the things we love (d) and hate (d) most about being teenagers. After straining to remember that far back, I was able to come up with a few pros and cons of teenage-dom: hardly a set list, but what came back to me with the most startling, laugh-inducing, pain-in-the-chest-in-a-good-nostalgic-way clarity. With a few additions, here's what I wrote:-


LOVED

- The excitement that came with a crush, and the thrill of seeing the object of my affection, however fleetingly!

- Meeting with friends in corridors in the too-short time span between the school buses arriving and the assembly bell, and catching up on what we missed in each others’ lives in the past 16 hours (6 hours, if you count from when we FINALLY got off the phone).

- How EVERYTHING was of vital importance!

- That the little things mattered the most: the biggest concern was whether or not I'd pass maths; the main goal was to ensure my skirt was at JUST the right length to make melook good and not incur the teachers’ wrath; the highlight of the day was when my crush talked to me and didn’t even bat an eye at his friends’ hooting and catcalling.

- The ability to talk on the phone for 5 hours straight and still feel that there was plenty more to be said.

- The single, everlasting moment before my first kiss.

- That "being there for each other” and ”having your back” and ”unswerving support” weren’t just random terms, but actual qualities prevalent in a circle of friends.

- Sleepovers at friends' places and sneaking out for parties - is it just me, or did it make the party SO much more fun knowing you weren't supposed to be there?

HATED

- The double-standard and labeling that was prevalent when it came to romance…no matter how much they did, the boys were studs; no matter how little they did, the girls were sluts.

- Getting my period and having to wear a white uniform in summer…talk about constant fear!

- That popularity mattered so much to some people that they’d treat those who were different (too tall, too thin, too fat, too pimply, too brainy, too poor) with extreme cruelty.

- How easy it was for teachers to judge students only based on marks and not personality, efforts, extra-curriculars…

- The people who'd gossip for the sake of it, with no basis or regard to truth: so at the age of 15 I had a random girl in the school bathroom, who had no clue who I was, telling me of my own purported exploits - boob job, threesome with 2 guys at a party, sleeping with the Head Boy. On the plus side, her face when I introduced myself was PRICELESS! :)

- How emotions were so extreme that a break-up felt like the end of the world (maybe that’s not just a teenage thing, though).

What about you? What did you love and hate most about being a teenager?

Material Girl

I am currently on the ecstatic side of the mood spectrum (which generally means that either my wallet, or someone else's, is now CONSIDERABLY lighter).

That would be due to these gifts/purchases/sheer indulgences:

Strappy silver sinfully sexy 4-inch stiletto heels. Pretty, yes?

Also strappy pink-and-burgundy (they look a LOT better than they sound) stilettos (TRUST me when I say they’re worth the future varicose veins!)

The box set of Southern Vampire Mysteries by Charlaine Harris (the books on which the True Blood series is based…I can’t WAIT to read them all cover to cover)

The Vampyre and Other Tales of the Macabre by John Polidori (the first vampire story ever written! Eeee! Also, bit of trivia: did you know John Polidori was Lord Byron’s personal physician, and based his story on his travels with Byron?)

City of Glass by Cassandra Clare (the final installment of her Mortal Instruments trilogy about the Nephilim…I have actually read this before, in PDF format, but that can’t ever compare to the sheer joy of curling up in bed with a little Three Doors Down playing in the background, chugging Coke and poring over the angsty angelic-demonic goodness that is Jace Wayland, page by page).

Also, a friend (who is now my very best friend in the universe for all eternity, sorry N.M.) got me a six-pack of Thums Up! For the uninitiated, Thums Up is the Indian offshoot of Coke, but slightly less sweet and MUCH fizzier. Also, when I burp, it comes out my nose!

Oh happy happy joy joy! I feel like jumping up and kicking my heels in the air! But my stilettos don’t permit that…

Ah, Screw It

So I'm abandoning any grandiose plans I had to blog a rant about Raj Thackeray and his MNS goons and how they're going about systematically trying to ruin B'bay. Partly because honestly, I'm not the most political-minded person around, and I'd hate to get a lot of facts wrong. And mostly because I can't work up enough of a rage right now. Perhaps if I come across another arrogant-as-shit interview of his, the ire will rise and I'll quickly jot down every slow, painful way in which I'd like to see him tortured :) Oh, did you know his website proclaims him the 'King of Mumbai'? I kid you not, that's actually the slogan there. I'll pause for a moment to allow you to laugh derisively at the sheer wrongness of that.

Meanwhile, mid-unemployment laziness is getting to me. It's all very well to go for interviews and doctor's appointments, but at the end of the day, I'm left feeling like I haven't really accomplished anything. The boredom is crippling, CRIPPLING I tell you. I've become addicted to Facebook Scramble (sort of like Boggle) and apparently I'm 3rd amongst my friends, which is unacceptable, so of course I'll be playing till I'm top dog! Not to mention I've severely depleted my savings by nearly cleaning out the bookshelves of the local Borders...but I'm quite pleased with my finds:

1. Rosemary Clement-Moore

Author of the Maggie Quinn: Girl vs Evil books. Very YA, of course, and something I should've been reading when I was 16, but I've never let that stop me! Kick-ass female protagonist - something I love in any genre, fast paced witty dialogue, great supporting characters, and demons! What's not to love?

I picked up the first of her novels - Prom Dates from Hell (yes, yes, it does sound a little too young for me) and was thoroughly entertained from start to finish..so much so that I practically pitched a fit when I found out Borders didn't stock the follow-up, Hell Week. But I found a very helpful site to download it from, so all is right with the world again :)

2. Kelley Armstrong

She writes the extremely popular 'Otherworld' series, dealing with everything that I love in fiction - ghosts, vampires, werewolves, witches and sorcerers. It's amazing that I haven't discovered her work before now, but I rectified that by picking up the entire lot of her books, from 'Bitten' to the most recent one that I could find, 'Living With The Dead'. Unfortunately, her latest work, 'Frostbitten', isn't on the stands here yet.

Branching off from the Otherworld, but still in keeping with the supernatural theme, is her 'Darkest Powers' trilogy, which is again more YA but as usual with the very relatable (um, unless you count being able to raise the dead), very strong female lead. Only two of the three books have been released thus far, but I'm looking forward to the third one with an eagerness that all too clearly shows I have no life!

3. Kim Harrison

Famous for the Rachel Morgan series, which, most lamentably, is not available here. I did however manage to pick up her first foray into YA literature, 'Once Dead, Twice Shy' and found it delved into the world of a supernatural race previously unexplored by me - the Nephilim, or angels. So we start with the premise that all angels actually act as reapers (or soul-gatherers) for their respective bosses (either the Lord or the Devil) and throw in one very human girl caught in the middle - it makes for a very different, very enjoyable read.

4. Buffy and Angel books!

Look what I found!

....any many many more! These should be enough to tide me over until the next bout of reruns! Excuse me while I do a little happy dance!

...Actually, with all this available to me, why the hell am I bored?

Go Joe!

I'm in love:



That would be one of the stars of G.I. Joe - Channing Tatum. Sorta rhymes with "the man is yum." Definitely going on my list of favourites...in fact, is in serious danger of overthrowing my beloved Spike. But that just might be because I like the way he holds his gun. Heh.

So I've actually seen the movie twice, and it's undoubtedly awesome in the leave-your-brain-behind-oooh-look-at-the-pretty-pictures-and-hey-car-go-boom way, and MY GOD the special effects are mind-blowing; but as someone who religiously watched the Saturday morning line-up way back when (G.I. Joe was sandwiched between Small Wonder and Biker Mice from Mars, remember?), I was a little disappointed at the changes in the story. I mean, Duke and Baronness? Really? 'Cuz to me that's sacrilegous! And Scarlett and Ripcord, when Duke was right there?? Nonononono unacceptable! And they killed off Cover Girl! And WHERE are Lady Jaye and Flint? And I dunno...I'm a little on the fence about Joseph Gordon-Levitt as Cobra Commander:

Yeah, I'm not really seeing it...he did a good job, but for me he's always going to be the horny, lovable doof in "3rd Rock From The Sun."

I swear, there better be some MAJOR follow-through on the sequel.

Actually, as long at they have more of gun-toting Channing Tatum/Duke (and a couple more shirtless scenes thrown in), I'll just stop grumbling and drool in peace.

I Wish...

... I could write like this...but I think that prodigious talent and honour lies only with Maya Angelou.

One of my favourite poems by her: In And Out Of Time. Enjoy.

The sun has come,
The mist has gone:
We see in the distance...our long way home.
I was always yours to have,
You were always mine...
We have loved each other in and out of time.

When the first stone looked up at the blazing sun
and the first tree struggled up from the forest floor...
I had always loved you more.

You freed your braids...gave your hair to the breeze;
It hummed like a hive of honey bees.
I reached in the mass for the sweet honey comb there....
Mmmm...God how I love your hair.

You saw me bludgeoned by circumstance;
Lost, injured, hurt by chance.
I screamed to the heavens....loudly screamed....
Trying to change our nightmares to dreams...

The sun has come,
The mist has gone:
We see in the distance... our long way home.
I was always yours to have,
You were always mine...
We have loved each other in and out
in and out
in and out
of time.

Sigh. I want.

Because I'm Bored...

…and trying to avoid the most yawnariffic work in existence (i.e. cleaning up the negligent messes of past RMs and actually creating records of old customers), I'm going to put together a short catalogue of song lyrics that I love.

Why? As they say in South Indian parlance: "Simbly." (R, that's for you. Be good and I might spell 'Mississippi' next).

1. "And it's been a while since I could look at myself straight,
And it's been a while since I said I'm sorry.
And it's been a while since I've seen the way the candles light your face
And it's been a while…but I can still remember just the way you taste…"

No prizes for guessing: "It's Been A While" by Staind. I love that this is one of the most evocative songs I've heard - deals out a good dose of profanity and still conveys a lot of the helplessness and frustration of love.

2. "On the streets where you live, girls talk about their social lives -
They're made of lipstick, plastic and paint;
A touch of sable in their eyes."

I don't actually know why I like the opening lines to Bon Jovi's "Runaway". I think as a kid, the words made me think of Barbie (who used to freak me out), but even though the words are supposed to be more bleak, I always ended up picturing a gaggle of happy, giggling girls. Bah, brain.

3. "The dawn is breaking;
A light shining through…
You're barely waking
And I'm tangled up in you."

Come on, how can anyone not love Howie Day's "Collide"? I think there's something in me that responds to lyrics that refer to the simple sensuality in relationships, anything mentioning touch, smell, taste…or, you know, could be I'm a total sap (but ssshhh, that's supposed to be a secret!). And seriously, the part where he sings "I somehow find you and I collide"….sigh.

4. "She is everything and more:
The solemn hypnotic.
My Dahlia, bathed in possession
She is home to me."

What is it about rock/metal bands that are capable of penning the most vivid love songs? Slipknot's "Vermilion" is, in R's opinion, one of the most perfect break-up songs (no doubt due to the plaintive refrain "I won't let this build up inside of me"), but I think it's the perfect I-love-her-with-such-intensity-I've-been-locked-up-a-rubber-room-with-a-straitjacket song.

5. "The miles just keep rolling as the people leave their way to say hello.
I've heard this life is overrated, but I hope that it gets better as we go."

Okay, 3 Doors Down is always solid gold, but "Here Without You" is unarguably one of their best songs. Sweet, simple, sad = perfect. If I had time, I’d put down the lyrics for "Landing in London", "When I'm Gone", "Let Me Go" and "Kryptonite" too.

6. "Take me to your heart, feel me in your bones;
Just one more night and I'm coming off this long and winding road."

The Limp Bizkit medley of "Home Sweet Home/Bittersweet Symphony" is one of the most relaxing songs I can think of, mainly because I doubt Fred Durst's voice has ever sounded more mellow or hypnotic. And boy, can I relate when he sings "My heart's like an open book for the whole world to read; sometimes it's nothing that keeps me together at the seams."

7. "I feel just like I'm sinking, and I claw for solid ground;
Pulled down by the undertow: never thought I could feel so low."

Sarah McLachlan's "Full of Grace" has the inexplicable ability to reduce me to tears when I'm in my PMS-induced emo stage. But, to be fair, that's when I listen to all her songs: "Angel", "Adia", "Fear", "Building a Mystery" and "Silence" have been time-of-the-month favourites since I hit puberty. No, I don't know why; but I will admit that's when I also listen to Tori Amos, Fiona Apple and Jewel.

8. "Baby I've been here before; I've seen this room and I've walked this floor -
I used to live alone before I knew ya.
I've seen your flag on the marble arch, but love is not a victory march -
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah."

It may seem blasphemous to most, but I prefer Jeff Buckley's version of "Hallelujah" to Leonard Cohen's. I don't know whether that's because Buckley's voice sounds more tortured or because the video I saw was picturised on the season 1 finale of The O.C. (yes, yes, I'm a hopeless child), but either way - the words to this song never fail to send a shiver down my spine.

Lord, there are so many more that should be on this list. Alanis Morisette's "Forgive Me, Love" and "Ironic", Tori Amos's "Love Song" and "Winter", everything by Metallica, Aerosmith, Matchbox 20, Creed, Sade, Guns N' Roses, newer stuff like "Hey There, Delilah" by the Plain White T's and older stuff like "Unforgettable" by Dean Martin….way, way too many. I'd have to devote an entire blog to that!

What are your favourites?