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Kim Voynar

By Kim Voynar Voynar@moviecitynews.com

Dear Internet: You are Depressing.

Dear Internet,

I think it’s time we had a little talk. Your negative attitude is seriously bringing me down.`Just this week, we had:

The London Riots, footage of which is beyond depressing. But even more depressing than the riots themselves: the overt racism and classism permeating many of the conversations happening in the comments sections of stories and opinion pieces on the riots. Oy.

Texas governor Rick Perry, He-Whose-Fabulous-Hair-Shall-Not-Be-Named, is apparently the anointed Presidential candidate of God, according to these people, who think they are modern-day prophets. Among other things, the various pastors who are involved with this group think that natural disasters are God’s judgement on the ungodly, that the emperor of Japan had sex with a sun goddess, and that the Democratic Party is run by Jezebel and a couple of lesser demons. And I’m not even making that up.

Casey Anthony is the most hated person in the US, beating out OJ Simpson and Paris Hilton. Quite an accomplishment.

Our House of Representatives appears to have been taken hostage by a pack of incompetent boobs. Oh wait, we elected those guys, didn’t we? On the plus side, Wall Street seems to be bouncing back a bit.

Sesame Street insists that, in spite of all appearances, Bert and Ernie are not now, and never have been, gay. They’re just BFFs who’ve been living together. For FOUR decades. Okay, whatever.

The US Postal service wants to lay off 120,000 people and cut benefits. No word of if they plan to reboot the Pony Express as a cost-saving measure.

In movie news, The Help is either Oscar-worthy, or it’s a racist film, and/or another example of Hollywood white-washing history. Guess I’ll have to go see it for myself and see what I think about that.

Fortunately, TIFF is coming up soon, so we’ll be able to bury our heads in films for a week and ignore the world. At least temporarily. Until then, Internet, if you could maybe lay off the bad news for a while, that would be great. Thanks.

One Response to “Dear Internet: You are Depressing.”

  1. Rob says:

    “But even more depressing than the riots themselves: the overt racism and classism permeating many of the conversations happening in the comments sections of stories and opinion pieces on the riots.”

    Lemme just head it off at the pass:

    “Harrumph blather thugs blah blah you Americans shouldn’t say anything about anything harrumph thugs thugs sneer we hate the darkies.”

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“Chad Harbach spent ten years writing his novel. It was his avocation, for which he was paid nothing, with no guarantee he’d ever be paid anything, while he supported himself doing freelance work, for which I don’t think he ever made $30,000 a year. I sold his book for an advance that equated to $65,000 a year—before taxes and commission—for each of the years of work he’d put in. The law schools in this country churn out first-year associates at white-shoe firms that pay them $250,000 a year, when they’re twenty-five years of age, to sit at a desk doing meaningless bullshit to grease the wheels of the corporatocracy, and people get upset about an excellent author getting $65,000 a year? Give me a fucking break.”
~ Book Agent Chris Parris-Lamb On The State Of The Publishing Industry

INTERVIEWER
Do you think this anxiety of yours has something to do with being a woman? Do you have to work harder than a male writer, just to create work that isn’t dismissed as being “for women”? Is there a difference between male and female writing?

FERRANTE
I’ll answer with my own story. As a girl—twelve, thirteen years old—I was absolutely certain that a good book had to have a man as its hero, and that depressed me. That phase ended after a couple of years. At fifteen I began to write stories about brave girls who were in serious trouble. But the idea remained—indeed, it grew stronger—that the greatest narrators were men and that one had to learn to narrate like them. I devoured books at that age, and there’s no getting around it, my models were masculine. So even when I wrote stories about girls, I wanted to give the heroine a wealth of experiences, a freedom, a determination that I tried to imitate from the great novels written by men. I didn’t want to write like Madame de La Fayette or Jane Austen or the Brontës—at the time I knew very little about contemporary literature—but like Defoe or Fielding or Flaubert or Tolstoy or Dostoyevsky or even Hugo. While the models offered by women novelists were few and seemed to me for the most part thin, those of male novelists were numerous and almost always dazzling. That phase lasted a long time, until I was in my early twenties, and it left profound effects.
~ Elena Ferrante, Paris Review Art Of Fiction No. 228

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