Allo me good chums =) 'Appy New Year! I hope your syne wasn't too auld and came with lots of lang, er whatevers. (Pardon the silliness, but I've not quite recovered from Friday evening's binging episode that was followed a bit too hastily, if I may say, by a return to the world of work. Agh, work. More like: wuk. Bugh.)
I had intended to mark the New Year with a jolly post full of remarks about one's personal resolve and what have you, but, again, free liquor - well, it rocks (with or without the ice, actually). So here I am, a bit late, but figuring that there's no time like the present to re-up the chatfest.
Today's post will be about: me – brill, eh?
Am decidedly and delightfully declaring my status as an Anglophile.
(Would also like to note: Am eternally grateful to Bridget Jones by way of Helen Fielding for giving me the courage to shuck traditional banalities like subject and predicate sentence structures.)
Those of you who know me (and I like how I sometimes seem to write as if the entire world is reading this – there’s a fresh load of bollocks for you) already know I love me some of the Brit life, but seeing as I felt like sharing I thought a less proper, recorded declaration was in order.
The reason for this declaration is that there are too many reasons to name, which is why this is a long entry. (But hey, it’s been awhile so enjoy yourselves.) In these recent months I've pledged to read more often and two books (I have read more than that) have so delighted me that it's been quite hard really for me to go about speaking in my usual manner (L'il Jon and Radio influences obviously excepted). The Other Boleyn Girl by Phillippa Gregory transported me way back to Henry VIII times and I say 'twas a fitful fancy of a journey! Bugger and blast! I couldn’t put that good book down. I believe it's called historical fiction and I have to tell you that I was immensely delighted with the result. Wits and witches, porn (here for alliteration purposes, mostly) and plagues, deceit, trickery, all lurid descriptions of life in the Royal Court -it was very, very good. Bloody page-turner that one, and even though I knew dreadful Anne was going to get her full comeuppance (and she right deserved it too, hateful hussy), the full portrayal of her character's determination and desperation just beguiled me. I felt for her being killed out of expedience alone. And who knew there was another Boleyn girl to be mired in the path of a fickle king anyway? I’m sending a for real Hail Mary to the other Boleyn girl for keeping that head, girl! She was fabulous. Brilliant book.
I am now about 40 pages out from finishing Vanity and Vexation: A Novel of Pride and Prejudice which really reads like a summer frolic; but knowing how I love me some P&P (more on that in a bit) and alliteration, I couldn't hold out til then. Delightful and quirky story following, of course, the ruse of the original P&P, but with a gender twist that refreshed me just enough to keep me from popping in the prized BBC miniseries. It is chock full of English and Welsh colloquialisms, many of which I recognized and many of which I was left completely dis-chuffed. That Welsh stuff looks a lot like italicized Russian to me, but thankfully the author, Kate Fenton, was kind enough to bolster my eager mind with context.
Nevertheless, the latter book has left me feeling quite bubbly, and so with this barmy energy I’d like to share with you another of my lists, complete with reasonings for how and why I am all about some Britain, as it is all great like gravy.
The beginning – It was the best of times and it was the worst of times… waiting for my mom, a former housekeeper, to finish tidying up Mrs. Buchanan’s house. I used to love Mrs. Buchanan because she traveled a lot and always made it a point to send me postcards that read like a Julia Childs broadcast. An avid British historian, she was responsible one Saturday morning for sitting me down to watch the 1953 coronation of Queen Elizabeth II. Initially it felt like punishment as the thing is in black and white. Mind you, this was a time in my life when all things shown in black and white were bad (i.e., I never watched the first part of the Wizard of Oz until I was about 17.). At any rate, I watched the coronation because Mrs. Buchanan provided a wonderful running commentary in her clipped Anglo-American tones, and she could answer my barrage of questions about who everyone was, the purpose of the coronation, the difference between monarchs and presidents, etc. In short, she bridged the stale textbooks with reality. It also helped greatly that she had books full of pictures – once I saw that the state coach was actually a very vivid, glittery awesome solid gold (as opposed to what I thought was just a grainy globe tank ticking along), my imagination began to give way to the splendors of royal pomp and circumstance.
Thereafter, whenever she would travel to the UK, which was at least 4 times a year, I would always receive postcards, par avion, featuring prominent members of the Royal Family and well-known landmarks about the land. Magazines and news clippings from the newsstands of London eventually followed these postcards, and it wasn’t too long before I found myself completely enthralled as a young Royal and British enthusiast. Every chance I got I raided her home library for books and videos on the royal house of Windsor, following it all the way back through Saxon invasions and Tudor England to the stories of King Arthur and the legend of Camelot. And when we did visit, naturally she served tea and scones, assorted cookies and cucumber sandwiches as she taught me the finer points of picking up the various English dialects, a couple of which I now hold what very well could be passing marks =)
So I owe this great love to her I suppose, because without her doting presence, it would’ve been highly unlikely for a little country black girl in the South to seek the ins and outs of this other fascinating culture. I mean, to think it – I’d probably be far less likely to:
1. Find the following gents so damned attractive: a. Colin Firth. Phwoah. Has there ever been another man to fill the image of the dapper, dashing and nobly handsome gentleman? I should think not. I will watch him in anything (even that which threatens to bore me: ….Pearl Earring and all) but will forever watch him as the simmering and sexsational Mr. Darcy, both Fitzwilliam and Mark. b. Hugh Grant. Bless me. Whether he is salaciously naughty or bumbling bashfully I will take him. c. Prince ______________. I mean, really, who is taking names? Does it even really matter which one?
2. Read the following books with pleasure: a. Shakespeare. Any of it, as long as you don’t preface it with “required” or follow it with “take note since that’ll be on the midterm exam.” They’re magnificent tales really. Lyrical, beguiling, masterful. It makes me cringe now when I think of how hard it has been for me to come to appreciate Macbeth, Hamlet and Romeo & Juliet for what they are. But because Baz Luhrmann possessed the genius to create a captivating film version of R&J, my predilection for Shakespeare was renewed, thankfully. b. Harry Potter. You have to admit there are things in the books that are decidedly English and what have you, and while the story undoubtedly hooked me, it is the seamless weaving of the language and olde world mysticism that piqued my interest initially. c. Jane Austen. (See movies below) I love her. She is my heroine of all imagination because she inspires me so… d. The Bronte sisters. Wuthering Heights admittedly made me wither it was so dark and unrequited. Unfortunately, like too many books that actually are good, it was required reading and so for me, it is my vodka of the bunch: great stuff, heavily regarded, but it unfortunately highlighted a not-so-good time for me and so the bitter taste remains to this day… Same to be said for Jane Eyre, too, except for well, I just copied Lisa’s note cards, lol. e. A Tale of Two Cities, Great Expectations. Ugh, long I know. Dreary, too. And unfortunately required, but well worth the task as there are lessons to be learned. One good think about Dickens sometimes, though, is that once you finish one of his stories, there’s a chance you can feel better about your own circumstances not having been so damn dreary and dark.
3. Watch the following films (over and over again): a. Sense & Sensibility: Well you can just say all Jane Austen pictures, as I’m apt to love each one, but since this is the first one I watched and seriously enjoyed, it stands as my favorite. As flawed or silly as my beliefs and fantasies may be, every time I watch this movie my hope for another’s love and undying devotion is renewed. i. I’d be remiss were I not to just go ahead and add Pride & Prejudice here, along with Mansfield Park. Jolly good stuff. I am excited (and a bit nervous) that a Hollywood movie version of P&P is on its way, as I love the story to bits; there’s also an Indian (as in India) version on its way that I hope to see as well. Oh and Mansfield Park is equally as charming and romantic. And lord help me, ere I forget Emma with my girl Gwyneth! b. The Lion in Winter. This was another one of those watch this and write it up options, and admittedly, I was wrong initially for laughing at Katherine Hepburn’s infamous warble and bobbling head, but because I love me some Kate, I revisited this movie a couple of years ago, and it is now one of my personal favourites. Peter O’Toole is marvelous, too, and I love how well they play off one another, the banter is exceptional and fluid. Lastly, it has my favourite element, royalty, and the games people play whilst at court truly intrigues me. c. Monty Python & the Holy Grail. WHAT?! (Okay, I had to L’il Jon that one.) This movie is bananas and I love it, love it, love it. Every sodding minute of the raving romp. It is hilarious; every time I watch it there is some new bit that I didn’t catch before or just didn’t understand before and the laughs just keep on coming. This movie was instrumental in helping to shape my sense of comedic rapport and timing. It was my crash course in the zaniness that is British humor. It also helped me to reconcile with myself that it is okay to be crazy. d. Bridget Jones. I’ll use my former roommate Synithia as a prime example. If it hadn’t been for me, she’d probably never have watched the first movie and laughed and laughed and laughed. I mean, you know a movie is pretty good when the sequel came out and she actually called me – the phone-repeller – from a hundred miles away to tell me that I’m the only person she knew who would wants to see that movie as much as she did. e. Shakespeare in Love. I went to the theater to see this movie, mostly because it wasn’t until college that I was finally able to appreciate Shakespeare for the genius he is (minus the pentameter bit – that stuff just leaves me a bit flummoxed). Much has been made of this film, but the use of his actual works juxtaposed with (here’s that fabulous historical fiction stuff again) what his life was like back then really captivated me. f. Harry Potter. Thank goodness for a movie, or how else would we really know how to pronounce all those names and such? And besides, there is no place in America that we could even imagine Hogwarts existing; there is no accent that sounds nearly as sinister and as scolding as Snape’s or Malfoy’s; and there’s really no better ideal of the young hero than a bright eyed, curious, darkly gifted, little downtrodden lad, eh? g. Bend it Like Beckham. I don’t even play soccer but this was a fab flick with the universal story of the daughter who has dreams that her parents try and dash, but hope and determination and kick ass ball handling skills prevail! Hurrah. And duh, Beckham is so hot that even though I wasn’t sure what “bend it” meant, I was all about figuring out that spice o’ life.
4. And not that I’m thanking these people for being British or whatever, but I’m just saying, though it’s not the best of excuses, their being British tipped the scales of favor in my book for whatever reason: a. Eric Clapton b. Elton John c. The Beatles d. the Rolling Stones e. Queen f. Sting and the Police g. Wham and subsequently George Michael h. Coldplay
I’m sure I forgot somebody. But for the most part, I know there are songs by each one of these artists, or times when I’ve heard them perform that I thought about them the same thing I’ve wondered about myself. I mean, how great and small is our world when music alone can find us and tell all our stories? And how did a so-and-so in such-and-such a place wind up finding this music, this culture, this life? Amazing, innit?
Well I’m fairly sure there is plenty more I could note on this subject, but for one, I’m feeling a bit like ol’ Dickens in the length of this rather loquacious entry, and my arse is right tired from having sat in one place for so long. I’m more used to my work chair than I am this thing at home. At any rate, I figured I’d dish out something in the hopes that some of you sorry lot will start posting again for our world’s delight =) A cheerio and a ta-ta to you, this has all been a much fantastic ado about absolutely nothing =)