Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Quakeland
I think I read it five years too late. Five to 10 years ago, I would have invested too much. I would have put too much stock in that book. I probably would have cried.
But I wouldn't have understood it. Not in the same way. I had never been to California. I had never driven its freeways, or shopped in Santa Monica. I had never been in good, healthy love -- more like only giving myself to others kind of love, the kind of love these seemingly strong yet shapeless leading ladies in the book who spoke with such conviction but whose actions proved them depressed and lost, over and over. I have certainly been those ladies.
My mother had not yet had cancer.
I have never seen spirituality made so trendy like a Goddess worn as a knit scarf around the neck of someone proudly at an indie rock concert. People dancing naked and sweating and talking about calling spirits and meaning it only to fuck each other over when they weren't looking, or in the face, scrambling onto some spiritual belief as a crutch or a justification for acting so inhumane.
One guy, one of the biggest douchebags in the book, says to his poor insecure lover after digging into her and then twisting the shovel that he's sorry. That he just can't see his own beauty. That if he could see his own beauty maybe then he could see hers. That might be a beautiful thought; maybe lots of people need to see their own beauty before they can treat the world accordingly, but maybe it's the other way around. Maybe if people knew how to treat each other it would make it easier for us to all see the beauty in the world and in ourselves. Why is pain only glamorized and made to feel beautiful in so many of these little pocket subcultures we form, while happiness is thought to be this glistening, glittering but false transparent facade? Why is happiness downplayed?
I suppose what really bothers me about this book is that of all the characters, main and on the outside, even those who died and were made spirit saints just weren't that great of people. No one was overly deep or intelligent or sensitive. The closest is Grace, the one woman who became the savior of a few, first through her friendship and then through her spirit, and all through love. But I had trouble believing in Grace. For one thing, the book doesn't allow you to get to know her husband or children much, so you don't see her through their eyes or experience. For another, you only really get to know her through these lost, broken people who seem to latch onto her for her wisdom, but through the novel, you don't really see her do anything to really earn that from them. And you wonder why this woman with a wonderful marriage and lovely twin children would surround herself with these ugly, evil, souls she's mistaken for good.
Not a single good person really came through this story, and barely a thought. Only one, near the center of the book, and that's as close to redemption as Katrina, one of the self-loathing main characters ever gets. It comes from her friend Kali, who intimidates her, who she is jealous of, but who loves her all the same. Kali's a fruit like so many of the other characters of this book that you start to wonder if it isn't all just one big caricature of L.A., but she owns her moment.
Kali says to Katrina:
Are you willing to cancel the contract that says you are only a woman if a man sees you as desirable?
Are you willing to cancel the contract that says you are not entitled to true love?
Are you willing to cancel the contract that says you will always be the second choice?
Are you willing to cancel the contract that says you are a victim?
Are you willing to cancel the contract that says you are doomed never to consummate your truest passion?
Are you willing to cancel the contract that says in order to be loved you must be weak?
Are you willing to cancel the contract that says you must suffer for love?
Are you willing to cancel the contract that says that your well-being must be determined by the actions of others?
Are you willing to cancel the contract that says your soul children must come to you in only one way, or you will not receive them?
Are you willing to cancel the contract that says if your loved ones are taken from you, you too, must leave this place?
Its one of the most real moments of friendship, honesty and truth, the most valuable of the entire book. It would make the book worth reading, if you got to see its effects. Unfortunately, the story leaves Katrina shortly after that, to follow another lead, Angeli, plagued by sex addiction and spirits, shadowy spirits like Grace, haunting her, and sending her messages. Angeli though, does not ever come to the wisdom that Kali helps Katrina find. Instead, she closes off her heart.
I hope I haven't given it all away to anyone who'd ever want to read it. It was entertaining if one enjoys watching train wrecks. Mostly, though, what I find so irritating, is how these plastic characters leading their vapid yet oh so meaningful lives (in that they have shrines and temples they created in their homes and they meditate, eat tofu, and do yoga a lot, then turn around and fuck each other kind of way) somehow do manage to come across as people, human beings, the kind you not only want to punch in the face, but also the kind you can see yourself in; the kind you want to help; the kind you want to find solace, happiness even. And you keep hoping that Ms. Block will bring them there, for your own sake, and for the sake of the story. Only, she never does. It's called Quakeland after all. The people stand on shaky ground. You start to wonder if L.A. could be a wasteland. You start to wonder if maybe that's the point, or maybe there is no point at all.
I think I read it five years too late. Five to 10 years ago, I would have invested too much. I would have put too much stock in that book. I probably would have cried.
But I wouldn't have understood it. Not in the same way. I had never been to California. I had never driven its freeways, or shopped in Santa Monica. I had never been in good, healthy love -- more like only giving myself to others kind of love, the kind of love these seemingly strong yet shapeless leading ladies in the book who spoke with such conviction but whose actions proved them depressed and lost, over and over. I have certainly been those ladies.
My mother had not yet had cancer.
I have never seen spirituality made so trendy like a Goddess worn as a knit scarf around the neck of someone proudly at an indie rock concert. People dancing naked and sweating and talking about calling spirits and meaning it only to fuck each other over when they weren't looking, or in the face, scrambling onto some spiritual belief as a crutch or a justification for acting so inhumane.
One guy, one of the biggest douchebags in the book, says to his poor insecure lover after digging into her and then twisting the shovel that he's sorry. That he just can't see his own beauty. That if he could see his own beauty maybe then he could see hers. That might be a beautiful thought; maybe lots of people need to see their own beauty before they can treat the world accordingly, but maybe it's the other way around. Maybe if people knew how to treat each other it would make it easier for us to all see the beauty in the world and in ourselves. Why is pain only glamorized and made to feel beautiful in so many of these little pocket subcultures we form, while happiness is thought to be this glistening, glittering but false transparent facade? Why is happiness downplayed?
I suppose what really bothers me about this book is that of all the characters, main and on the outside, even those who died and were made spirit saints just weren't that great of people. No one was overly deep or intelligent or sensitive. The closest is Grace, the one woman who became the savior of a few, first through her friendship and then through her spirit, and all through love. But I had trouble believing in Grace. For one thing, the book doesn't allow you to get to know her husband or children much, so you don't see her through their eyes or experience. For another, you only really get to know her through these lost, broken people who seem to latch onto her for her wisdom, but through the novel, you don't really see her do anything to really earn that from them. And you wonder why this woman with a wonderful marriage and lovely twin children would surround herself with these ugly, evil, souls she's mistaken for good.
Not a single good person really came through this story, and barely a thought. Only one, near the center of the book, and that's as close to redemption as Katrina, one of the self-loathing main characters ever gets. It comes from her friend Kali, who intimidates her, who she is jealous of, but who loves her all the same. Kali's a fruit like so many of the other characters of this book that you start to wonder if it isn't all just one big caricature of L.A., but she owns her moment.
Kali says to Katrina:
Are you willing to cancel the contract that says you are only a woman if a man sees you as desirable?
Are you willing to cancel the contract that says you are not entitled to true love?
Are you willing to cancel the contract that says you will always be the second choice?
Are you willing to cancel the contract that says you are a victim?
Are you willing to cancel the contract that says you are doomed never to consummate your truest passion?
Are you willing to cancel the contract that says in order to be loved you must be weak?
Are you willing to cancel the contract that says you must suffer for love?
Are you willing to cancel the contract that says that your well-being must be determined by the actions of others?
Are you willing to cancel the contract that says your soul children must come to you in only one way, or you will not receive them?
Are you willing to cancel the contract that says if your loved ones are taken from you, you too, must leave this place?
Its one of the most real moments of friendship, honesty and truth, the most valuable of the entire book. It would make the book worth reading, if you got to see its effects. Unfortunately, the story leaves Katrina shortly after that, to follow another lead, Angeli, plagued by sex addiction and spirits, shadowy spirits like Grace, haunting her, and sending her messages. Angeli though, does not ever come to the wisdom that Kali helps Katrina find. Instead, she closes off her heart.
I hope I haven't given it all away to anyone who'd ever want to read it. It was entertaining if one enjoys watching train wrecks. Mostly, though, what I find so irritating, is how these plastic characters leading their vapid yet oh so meaningful lives (in that they have shrines and temples they created in their homes and they meditate, eat tofu, and do yoga a lot, then turn around and fuck each other kind of way) somehow do manage to come across as people, human beings, the kind you not only want to punch in the face, but also the kind you can see yourself in; the kind you want to help; the kind you want to find solace, happiness even. And you keep hoping that Ms. Block will bring them there, for your own sake, and for the sake of the story. Only, she never does. It's called Quakeland after all. The people stand on shaky ground. You start to wonder if L.A. could be a wasteland. You start to wonder if maybe that's the point, or maybe there is no point at all.
Labels: Books, Francesca Lia Block, Quakeland
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