Starring Gramercy P. Riff as Herself

Drawing inspiration from a humorous post by the fabulous Noble Savage (who was inspired from another blog post), I am going to embark on a personal project, a journey if you will. I am going to reread two books from my preteen/young teen years. They were among my favorites and the first two that came to mind when I submitted a comment to her post. I had many favorites growing up. Quite a few. In fact, I could be found with my nose in a book most of the time. But these two came first to mind and there simply has to be a reason for them to linger so freely around my conscious state.

I didn't have what you would call an ideal childhood and books were my saving grace. I could escape from all my troubles and not have to worry about life outside of the pages for a nice block of time. The best was that in addition to being free on loan from the library, my school had age appropriate tomes in each classroom from which the students could "borrow" as needed. I put borrow in full on finger quotes because now in my thirties, I still have to return a few of them back to Mrs. Sadie's fifth grade classroom.

The books I quoted and chose to reread are Judy Blume's Starring Sally J. Freedman as Herself, and Deenie. After reading Nobel Savage's post, I got caught up in the idea of learning why these books originally clicked with me. I want to look at the pages with adult eyes and sort of understand my psyche way back when. Why these books? How come I chose them off the shelf? A voracious reader, I did have an air of pickiness, but what was the appeal of these particular two? I was a fan of Blume, having read her work at fairly age appropriate times. Yet, I never bothered to read the ever popular Tiger Eyes, and Are You There God, it's Me Margaret found its way to me after I had started puberty. Which wasn't so hard since I developed breasts at the age of eleven.

Since I will be airplane bound tomorrow, I think this is the perfect time to start rereading and revisiting these stories all over again. Especially since I'm flying an airline that utilizes only a few movie screens for everyone to goggle at in cattle class. It will also give me time to reflect on what it was about them that appealed greatly to me.

It's hard to say what I will discover from this project. It could come to naught and I might discover that I was a perfectly well adjusted child in choosing my reading material. Besides, it's more in the spirit of wonder. But, there is a bit of interest at what my mind might pick up on. Either way, it's definitely going to be fun to revisit these books.

"So It Goes"

On April, 11, the nation lost a great author – Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.

"So it goes"

I remember back in 2000, when Vonnegut’s Manhattan brownstone burned. I had returned to work after a weekend of visiting my father, where the news of the fire prompted him to recall his friendship with Vonnegut’s nephew, Kurt “Tiger” Adams. As I walked by the temporary receptionist's desk, she put down the newspaper and said aloud, “I used to be Kurt Vonnegut’s assistant”.

Small world. Weird coincidence.

Now, back to my father. In his youth, he had the occasion of meeting the author several times, even staying at his home in Barnstable, Massachusetts. Vonnegut had taken custody of his sister’s three children, who had become parentless through a set of tragedies. Tiger was one of those children whom my father was friends with. He also recounted the time when he was visiting their home, and the police arrived at the house for Vonnegut’s son Mark, who was evading the draft. My father also got to know Vonnegut’s daughter Edie, who later married Geraldo Rivera.

One of my favorite Vonnegut stories is "Harrison Bergeron", although Slaughterhouse-Five will always remain a classic favorite.

The 10 Best of Everything

First off. Can I tell you how much I just love the library? There's not more than two weeks that go by where I'm either on the NYPL website or inside one of their branches. If I didn't have access to such an excellent library system, I would have to seek out a storage garage for all the books I would then have to acquire that peak my varied interests. Another plus about the library is that you don't have to make too much of a commitment to books. You can simply take out what looks good and not worry if it turns out to be crap. It's completely guiltless and your money stays in the bank.

Whilst perusing the shelves of said library, I came across a neat book called, The 10 Best of Everything: An Ultimate Guide for Travelers. I wouldn't go so far to declare this a travel book. It's more like a best of everything, if you happen to be traveling. Otherwise, the armchair travelers can certainly get enjoyment out of it as well. A lot of the foods and products are available online, so no worries about feeling left out. Besides, some things really have nothing to do whatsoever with travel.

The chapter entitled "The Ten Best Products", gives shout-outs to brand names that almost anyone with some dosh (or not) can acquire. There's no reason to fly to Switzerland to purchase a TAG Heuer watch. As for landmarks, I'm just going to assume that everyone reading this lives within driving distance of at least one landmark or important site.

I mean, come on! They have Starbucks on the best coffee list. Starbucks! I think you get what I mean.

It's just a nice glossy and fun book full of eye candy.

The Scarlet Lace

Tina Jordan’s article about her daughter’s choice of reading material sparked yet another article about her reader’s admissions of the books they hid from their parents as teenagers. It also got me thinking about the books I read as a teenager too.

It’s a rite of passage to read saucy books at so young an age. I think anyway. First, I don’t know if I could have made it through young adolescence without Judy Blume. Blume really spoke to me in her books. Are you there God? Its me, Margaret was the manifesto of budding girls everywhere. It was the book that made you realize that you weren’t alone during that scary event called “growing up”. Blume took a child to a young woman. Innocent tomes such as Superfudge, helped youngsters deal with everyday problems and annoying siblings. Blubber, was a step up, had minor swear words, and taught kids that it’s okay to stand up for others and question your friend’s motives. After AYTGIMM, I should have gone onto other Blume classics such as Forever, but my mind was occupied with something else, something much more grown up -- and forbidden. This was the tome of epic proportions, and it catapulted me from burgeoning adolescence to over-knowledgeable and somewhat confused teen.

Back in the 80’s, there were a whole slew of mini-series to be had on television. Every major network went mini-series mental. One thing to remember is that the television of yesteryear was not like the television of today, and mini-series were heavily advertised for months on end. One of these series was called “Lace”. Based on the book by Shirley Conran, this series was severely cut down and heavily sanitized for the ABC network. If you remember, the commercials showed a young Phoebe Cates confronting a group of women and demanding, “WHICH ONE OF YOU BITCHES IS MY MOTHER!?” Well! That certainly got my attention! We had a subscription to TV Guide and the glossy print ads, coupled with the small black & white teaser ads, just kept making me brace for the excitement of what was to come (okay, I was kinda weird back then).

Then it happened. Like an answered prayer. One day in the supermarket. There it was. A cardboard stand filled to the brim with thee book - LACE. I conned my mother into buying it for me, and if she only knew what her hardworking dollar contributed to back in 1984, she would pass out. Picture an innocent eleven 1/2 year old reading this book about a baby given up for adoption by a group of sexually active teens at boarding school. Okay. Any book that centers on a boarding school is an automatic recipe for sexcapades. This child, through unfortunate circumstances, grows up to become…now brace yourself…a porn star.

Would you want your eleven year old reading such a book? No. I wouldn’t. However, there has to be a time in parenting when you have to let go and convince yourself that life isn’t squeaky clean. Teenagers need something a bit enticing, which will help them handle the hormones and mixed information they receive on daily basis. As long as it’s not actual sexual activity, or something that will lead them on the path to degeneracy, everything’s going to be alright mom and dad. Kids require a small segment of their lives to be secretive. Where one can feel like they themselves found the answers to life’s biggest questions. Nothing that consumes them however, just a little part of life that they feel they own.

Well, Lace was my secret. It was the little part of my adolescence that I could have all to myself; to control. None of my friends knew I read such a book. And it was kind of satisfying to have this secret all to myself. The story was to the point of vulgarity for a girl my age, but it opened up a world of backstabbing and sexual intrigue that my sqeaky clean soul never could have imagined. It was tantalizing to peer into an adult’s life, even if the characters didn’t live the way they should have or like anyone I ever knew. While this reading was going on, I still lived my life as a normal eleven ½ year old would. I listened to Top 40, watched tons of MTV, and faced the same insecurities someone my age would.

I’m not going to lie to you. Over twenty years later, I still have no regrets in reading that naughty book at so young an age. Zero. After that chapter in my life, I continued back to the books my peers were reading. But apparently, nothing could top that book. Lace was thee epic, the Citizen Kane of my existence then, and nothing could usurp it. Into my mid to late teens, books such as Flowers in the Attic appealed to me. But by that time, everyone in my peer group seemed to be reading it. As much as we could share in the naughtiness of the subject matter, there was no real secret. I was old enough to know better, and old enough to handle such content. Through my teen years, I no longer had to hide my books. Although for years after, my dog-eared copy of Lace remained under my mattress practically forgotten. Until the binding became so worn and torn and I had to throw it out.

Little Mother of Russia

I finally got through this book, all 359 pages of it. Towards the end, I thought I’d never finish. A hefty intellectual read, it was definitely worth it.

So much is known about Tsar Nicholas II, but not really about his parents. Tsar Alexander III tends to be overshadowed by his ill-fated son, and by the more illustrious ancestral leaders who preceded him. The story of Empress Marie Feodorovna of Russia is important, not only because we get insight into the relationship with her son and her daughter-in-law Alexandra, but because of her close proximity to the events in Russia for the over fifty years she lived there.

Marie Sophie Frederikke Dagmar was born a minor princess in Denmark to Prince Christian (later King Christian IX) and his wife Princess Louise. “Dagmar”, as she was known, and her five siblings experienced a blissful yet somewhat poor childhood at the Yellow Mansion in Copenhagen. A turn of events placed her father in direct line of succession to the Danish throne and the family’s circumstances changed overnight. Now, Christian and Louse’s three daughters were very marriageable for all of Europe. After Louise arranged her daughter Alexandra's betrothal to Prince Edward of Britain, she turned her attentions to acquiring another spectacular marriage for Dagmar.

The opportunity arrived in the form of Tsarevitch Nicholas of Russia, the first son of Alexander II. Although it was a political alliance, it was definitely a love match. Sadly, Nicholas died shortly before they were to marry, and his distraught brother Alexander (“Sasha”), now next in line for the throne, stepped in and proposed. A new husband, a new country, and because of her required conversion to Russian Orthodoxy, a new name: Marie Feodorovna. The marriage proved to be another love match, and the couple settled into an austere family life, producing five living children. Tsar Alexander III died in 1894 after only 13 years of rule. His son ascended the throne as Nicholas II.

While many contribute the downfall of the Russian Empire solely to the Tsar's weak leadership and Rasputin, there are many other reasons for its end. Fighting and one-upmanship within the Romanov family, a dominant bourgeois society, and each party’s ignorance to the needs of the peasant society, also helped to destroy the Imperial family. Dagmar was there to witness everything. As the walls closed in around Tsar Nicholas and his family; many politicians and other Romanov’s sought comfort and answers from the Dowager Empress.

One of the interesting parts of this book is Dagmar’s harrowing escape from Russia during the Revolution. It took the pleading of her family before she would board the HMS Marlborough (sent by her nephew King George V). It was only after helping other refuges that she would board the ship; escaping just in time. By the end of the Revolution, 17 members of the Romanov family were murdered by the Bolsheviks. Among them were Dagmar’s own sons Nicholas and Michael, and Nicholas’ wife and children.

Dagmar stayed with her sister Queen Alexandra in England until differences forced her to move to Denmark. Dagmar sought respite in Hvidore, the vacation home she co-purchased with her sister Alexandra. Known as “Kejserinde Dagmar” by the Danes, the problems of the Revolution dogged her until her death. She refused to acknowledge that her family had been murdered, and she faced additional heartaches due to lack of funds, the round of Anastasia claimants, and the continued fighting for power of succession among the surviving members of the Romanov’s.

1928 marked the end of the Dowager Empress’ difficult life. Father Koltcheff noted of her passing: “Our Little Mother’s, the Dowager Empress’ life is over. Russia’s many million children have become orphans”. Not able to return to Russia, she was buried in Roskilde Cathedral. In September 2006, Dagmar got her final wish, to be reburied in Russia next to her beloved husband.

In Russia today, there is a resurgence of interest in the Dowager Empress, with many publications being produced. The problem for many of us royal history buffs are that too few of these publications aren't produced in English. However, there are some stunning photo books about her where language need not be a factor in enjoying these tomes.

If you are interested in the Romanov’s, especially the royal socio-political environment surrounding the events of the Revolution; this is your book. If you could care less about Russia or the idea of monarchy, then give it a miss.

Jewels of the Tsars

I recieved my copy of Jewels of the Tsars, written by Prince Michael of Greece.

It's a colorful and breathtaking book that showcases the Romanov jewels from the reign of Catherine the Great to Nicholas II.

Interesting anecdote. After the 1917 Revolution, Trotsky had all jewels of historical value catalogued and documented; only to save them. "The Revolution had killed off the tsars, but it would not deny the existence of Russia's imperial past." Interesting indeed.

Because I have a subscription to European Royal History Journal, I was able to obtain an autographed copy. Imagine my surprise when I opened the book to see that not only was it autographed, but Prince Michael himself had inscribed my name!

Books, Books and More Books

There’s nothing worse than snagging must read books…and then not reading them for ages. I finally scored Hessian Tapestry for a cost that was outrageously under priced than it normally goes for. Ordered it, and when it arrived, I lovingly scooped that baby right up into my arms and promised to give it the best home it will ever know. Several months later, it’s sitting there, unread. I discovered by accident, a signed copy of the memoirs of Prince Christopher of Greece and Denmark (Philip of Edinburgh’s uncle). This is my best score to date, and only twenty dollars out of my pocket for such a royal gem.

In my teeny tiny apartment, I've run out of book space and have started piling them next to the bookcase. This pile is for the books I haven’t read yet! I either have to move out of NYC or end up like the Collyer brothers in order to keep a book collection here.

Her Majesty's Displeasure

One of my hobbies is reading and learning about historical royalty, especially Queen Victoria’s descendants. I could care less about modern royals, unless it somehow involves the past. I know more about the political consequences of German-English princesses marrying into other royal houses at the end of the 19th Century than what Prince Harry is up to these days. I have zero interest in inquiries into the death of Princess Diana. I get my gossip about today’s royals the way that everyone else does - the news.

So, when I had the opportunity to take in a guilty read, I found myself choosing The Royals, by Kitty Kelley. This book is banned in the UK because of their strict libel laws. So it made me want to read it more. Don’t get me wrong, I have no love for Ms. Kelley, but this book is really turning into a pleasurable read. My only fear with crappy gossipy books like this is that I’m always afraid I’ll absorb the inaccuracies and they will cloud my perceptions on the true dirt.

But really, I can’t help but wonder: Where there's smoke, is there really fire?