Pretty Book Pages

The Hidden Trope That Fuels Your Vicarious Adventures (Repost)

Carolyn, Free

July is a free review month! This post would normally be for Patreon subscribers, but is being reposted for free. If you’re not a Patreon subscriber, this is what the Patreon posts are like. If you are a Patreon subscriber and have been wanting to share this post, now you can! (please do).

One of the last times we talked, you told me you didn’t really have a favorite genre. You said you would read any book or watch any TV show as long as it was good. I don’t deny that you have are very particular taste. And I am not trying to be reductive when I say this. I’m merely saying that I believe I have found a common thread in your entertainment choices.

Your favorite other lives to live and worlds to throw yourself into, whether they be deep in outer space, some dreary seaside town, or the regency era countryside, are the lives and worlds of people who are already good at something. To give credit where credit is due, you have little patience for stories where the protagonist is naturally good at something or magically good at something or (barf) the “Chosen One.” They need to have worked at it, but at some point before the story starts because you don’t really want to hear about that.

I don’t think it’s that uncommon. You just want to breeze past the hard part of getting in shape or mastering a new language or learning to paint or becoming a sleuth. And it’s a nice little vacation for you to pretend that you’re already there. Just like a vision board of future vacation destinations. It’s what everyone wants, and it’s so much easier to read about, and honestly to write, than it is to actually achieve. Every genre has this trope. It’s why your tastes are so widely varied across genres.

It’s why are you so gleefully ate up the story of a confident, jacked space lesbian in Gideon the Ninth. From the very beginning of the book, she could already do more push-ups than you could ever dream of doing. And that’s what you liked about. You like that it mentioned every once in a while the effort she put in and trauma she endured to get that kind of strength, but you would not have wanted to read a book about little Gideon training to become the wisecracking competent person she ultimately would.

It’s a nice little jaunt into a world where you, too, have already mastered some skill, but these books and TV shows have an extra secret bonus. Maybe they do it to make reentry into the real world a bit easier, maybe their creators do it out of subliminal jealousy. There is always some excuse buried in there to never, ever reach that level of achievement. In those little tidbits of backstory, there is always some trade off for that level of expertise. Maybe it was growing up so singularly focused on one pursuit, or some horrific trauma, or sacrifices made in adulthood, usually in the form of ruined relationships.

Take, for example, Ned from Pushing Daisies, I know, I know “but he’s magically good at something.” I would argue that he’s magically pretty capable, and the entertainment comes from his mistakes, but he is a skilled baker. Oh yes, he bakes beautiful pies, and does it so well he owns a bakery where he exclusively bakes pies. But what is the trade off? His mom is dead. They mention the correlation between the two pretty much every episode. And you wouldn’t take that trade.

So it really is the perfect vicarious experience. Pleasant enough to provide a brief respite from the real world but unpalatable enough that you’re not likely to linger.

-Carolyn

Decorating Tips and Tricks for Sentimental People

Carolyn, Free

I have seen many of Erica’s decluttering and re-decorating attempts foiled by her emotional attachment to objects. Only recently has she begun to incorporate the most meaningful of these objects into her actual decorating. Erica was very inspired during her initial and enthusiastic employment of the Marie Kondo method. After the initial purge, she continued to employ the method with varying degrees of success. The little displays in her terrarium and on her dresser being the most consistent.

Erica's Terrarium
Erica’s terrarium. The grow light is on so you can’t see the reflection of the messy living room.

The Terrarium: The terrarium was first purchased for practical reasons: to keep one curious kitten out of Erica’s plans. At first, it only contained three rather boring pothos plants in three extremely boring black flower pots. Since those original plants outgrew their home, the terrarium has become a whimsical display replete with family heirlooms. (A terrarium is also a great place to protect delicate knickknacks from cats.)

The bird shaped candle holder was a gift from a family friend who has since passed away. Since candles and cats are also a bad combination, it now holds a small succulent propagation.

A small cat figurine it’s a gift from her mother. Before that it was a gift to her from Erica’s great-great-grandmother. It was given to Erica when she followed in the long-held family tradition of being a cat person.

The pottery mug is also a gift from her mother, as is the plant inside it. The mug, thrown by her mother at some childhood summer camp and at some point boxed up in the attic for many, many years is now looked upon every single day.

The tea cup is inherited from her grandmother. She was a prim and quiet woman who shared Erica’s love of tea and floral prints. The plants inside it also comes from her mother’s house. You can see where Erica gets her hesitancy to purchase house plants.

A Picture of Erica's Dresser
There’s also a family photo on her dresser, but that has been removed for privacy reasons.

The Dresser: Erica has managed to pare down the objects on her dresser to just a few with great significance to her. The plant is one of the first she brought from her childhood home, wrapped in a wet paper towels and successfully ushered through airport security. The dachshund jewelry and wallet holder was also a gift from that since past family friend, who used to take Erica antique shopping. The plaque was a gift from an aunt Erica does not see very often but thinks of fondly.

The small quilted potholder, from what I gather, has the most interesting story. Erica went on a few youth service trips in high school, one of which involved repainting and repairing the roof have an elderly woman’s house in the mountains of West Virginia. One afternoon Erica and her sister spent hours listening to the woman tell them her life story and in the end she gave them each a handmade potholder. Making quilted potholders was how she occupied her time in her old age. As with many youth service trips, Erica I never had any contact with this woman again, but enjoys the daily reminder of that pleasant afternoon in West Virginia.

I know Erica often sees only the spaces in her apartment that are heavily cluttered or those sentimental items that she has not yet figured out how to properly display. She will get there, and I hope that she spends a little more time seeing these two little displays and taking pride in what she has constructed.

-Carolyn

You’re Never Really Alone, Especially if Your Apartment is Haunted

Carolyn, Free

I know it often feels that way, especially when social options are limited and you live by yourself. But I want to assure you that, even in those deepest darkest moments, you are not alone. I am here. I am always here.

I’m not surprised you haven’t noticed me yet. My ability to communicate is severely limited right now. But I’ve noticed you. How could I not? I know nearly everything about you. The days are just so long. When you’re not home I read your books, some papers, anything I can find. That doesn’t take very long and is not always very interesting. At night I play with your cats, sorry if that wakes you up. When you’re home, I’ve already exhausted my other options, so I just watch you.

You can always talk to me. Even if you feel like you’re just talking to yourself, I can pretend that someone is reaching out and acknowledging me in the present and not just as a memory, and I will grow stronger. Obviously my motives are not completely selfless, but still. If I grow strong enough I could reach out and let you know you are not alone.

I promise not to haunt you. I save that for tenants I don’t like and I do genuinely like you. I cannot promise that my first demonstrations of newfound strength will not be interpreted as haunting. But even if they are, you will notice me and I will grow stronger and I will be able to assure you that I am here to help.

And I don’t want that to be misinterpreted as me feeling like I have the power or the duty or that I want you to feel better to satisfy some selfish savior complex. I know that’s not how these things work. I know it’s not something you can control, but if I can do one thing, it would be to reach out and help alleviate this deep and crushing loneliness that I see you suffering from. It hurts to see people so lonely when they are alive because the loneliness that comes after is so much deeper and so much worse.

-Carolyn

*This post is free for introduction purposes. Starting April 1, all Wednesday and Friday posts will be for Patreon subscribers.