More Titlage

Other thesis title ideas:

• Antimony and Asphalt
• The Thunderhead
• Squall Line/The Squall Line/Squall Lines

I like the last one best, but it seems there are a few novels/books of poetry out there already with the same title.

Something About Bees?

I’m trying to title my thesis. Since I struggle over finding the right name for individual poems–since I still haven’t found anything near appropriate for my sci-fi manuscript (referring to it in conversation as “that novelly thing”)–this is not an easy task for me.

I had a place-holder title in my head for the last month or so: Where We Remain, which is in reference to a quote from Rilke’s first “Duino Elegy”–”For there is no place where we can remain.” This feeds into my Death Thing, a theme lightly touched on in my poems. And I staunchly disagree with Rilke–one of the places where we remain, of course, is in our art. I write in part because I have a Death Thing, and because writing gets me one step closer to immortality. My thesis would be, then, like saying, “Here, Rilke; this is where I remain.”

The problem is that that all sounds terribly pretentious. And I don’t really like the title. It’s too What Dreams May Come, too Remains of the Day.

Which is to say, it sounds too much like a thesis title.

So now I’m thinking Transmutations, or some permutation of Transmutations, maybe Transmutations of Ozone and Ash, which has a nice ring to it, but might be too much of a mouthful. There’s much more magic and weirdness in my thesis than there is death stuff, really. It’s all about transformations, most fundamental/elemental, or at least physical. And I like the link to alchemy.

But I’m still not sure. Maybe this is normal. Last night, I hung out with Michele, and she talked about her own shyness over her own thesis title, and the work inside (despite the fact that it’s all good). There’s something about a thesis–and about naming a thesis–that feels like ripping oneself open, exposing oneself. Especially a poetry thesis. And how can you summarize that, title it, without appearing a bit silly?

(Maybe I should just title it Something About Bees?, question mark included.)

Any thoughts on this, Gentle Reader? Any opinions or suggestions?

Goodreads Review: Orphans of Chaos (or, how John C. Wright is a dirty old man)

Orphans of Chaos by John C. Wright

My review

rating: 2 of 5 stars

John C. Wright’s Orphans of Chaos has a terrific premise. The novel opens in an English boarding school, home to five incredibly bright students who have been raised there since birth. Mysteriously, they have been unable to reckon how much time has passed within the school’s walls, their own ages, or where the boundaries of their home lie.

The early chapters are told through a series of slightly surreal-feeling vignettes. In a non-linear fashion, we are introduced to Amelia and her “siblings”, and some of the school’s mysteries slowly unfold–cryptic references to the fourth dimension abound. There is a real sense of melancholy in the first fifty pages or so.

But something happens when the plot kicks in. The tone abruptly shifts and the novel stops taking itself seriously. In place of mystery, we’re given flat lectures on Greek mythology which stretch on for pages and pages. None of the revelations are particularly surprising or even interesting.

And then there’s the weird sex stuff.

While Wright clearly has some sexual issues, it’s not necessarily the presence of kink that turned me off to this novel about a hundred and fifty pages in. Rather, it’s the fact that his kinks are so clearly inappropriate for the main character. Wright defines Amelia as a strong (literally and figuratively–she has the ability to alter an object’s mass), determined female lead. At several points early in the novel she shows mild revulsion to her sister Vanity’s flirtatious ways. Yet Wright interjects a scene where Amelia prances around in a French maid’s outfit and has her complete the latter half of the novel in chains that are meant not just to confine her but to sexually titillate the older male characters. Even this, I could have mildly forgave Wright, but the internal narration does not stay true to character. Instead, Amelia starts swooning over just about any man that manhandles her. Like the crippled groundskeeper. The head master. And her brothers. For example:

“I’m stronger than you,” I said, feeling foolish. “I can move huge iron doors you can’t lift.”

“Show me,” he said.

Because he was standing behind me, he simply twisted both my arms up behind my back. My possible options at that point consisted of arching my shoulders back as far as possible and standing on tiptoe.

Somehow, somewhere, Colin had turned from a little annoying boy into a dangerous young animal. I could not even really struggle in his grip; he had grasped me too cunningly.

I noticed that he smelled nice. And tall. When did he get to be taller than me? I hadn’t noticed. Had that happened this year?

And strong. And ruthless and confident.

I suddenly began to feel silly and out of breath. I told myself it was because Colin was holding me in an awkward position that I could not catch my breath. I tell myself a lot of things. I lie to myself a lot.

It was because Colin was holding me.

Having been a fourteen (or sixteen, or twenty, depending on how kinky Wright’s feeling at that moment in the narrative) girl, all I have to say to that is: oh come on.

(By the time she gets spanked–no, I’m not kidding–and moons about how she deserves it–again, not kidding–I was about ready to throw the book at the wall, but I was less than fifty pages from the ending and had already squandered so much time on this tripe that it didn’t feel worth the expenditure of energy.)

Oh, and Amelia also has a penchant for describing her own anatomy, particularly her breasts and cleavage, over and over again.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt like a book was so wasted by the author’s proclivities. I was really ready to love Orphans of Chaos, despite the fact that the narrative became increasingly less pressing and engaging. But in place of even bland prose, Wright gives us fantasies grossly inappropriate for both the plot and characters. I felt increasingly skeeved out, even violated, the further I read. I won’t be completing the series.

View all my reviews.