Hair New Era

Last week I read Minu London – a book an Estonian fashion designer Anu Samarüütel-Long wrote about her life in London and Central Saint Martins. As it’s so far only been published in Estonian, the idea of reviewing it in English seems a bit daft. So…
Ma tõesti tahtsin seda armastada. Sellel olid kõik eeldused saamaks üheks mu lemmikraamatuks. Aga kõik need komavead, mitmekordsed hüüumärgid ja SUURED TÄHED tekitasid mus tunde, nagu ma loeksin mõne teismelise blogi. Kellegi, kes on raamatutes näinud põnevaid lausekonstruktsioone ja väljendeid ning tahab neid kõiki ise ka kasutada, kuid see lihtsalt ei näi loomulik. Keegi, kes pole tegelikult veel suureks kasvanud, aga peab ennast teistest paremaks, kuna on elanud Londonis ja lugenud mõnda tarka raamatut. Seega suhtub ta oma lugejatesse üleolevalt – või vähemalt jätab sellise mulje. Nad on kõigest rumal lihtrahvas, kes ei või mingil juhul teada näiteks seda, et Big Ben on seal sees oleva kella, mitte torni enda nimi. Autor kasutab enne seda selgitust püüdlikult nime The Clock Tower, kuid naaseb paari peatüki järel isegi Big Beni juurde, mida iseenesest ei saa talle pahaks panna, sest, olgem ausad, tegelikult kutsuvad seda torni ju kõik nii.
Üldine kirjutusstiil oli mulle kuidagi eriti vastukarva ning väljendid nagu „vaat sulle pudingut siirupiga“, mida ta ise kindlasti nutikateks kildudeks pidas, panid mind paratamatult silmi pööritama ja hambaid krigistama.
Ma tean, et autori näol on tegemist 38aastase andeka moekunstnikuga, aga iga kord, kui ma raamatu avasin ning paar lõiku lugeda olin jõudnud, kangastus mulle upsakas 15aastane, kellega ma mingil juhul vestelda ei tahaks. Ja mul oli nii kahju. Muuhulgas sellest, et ma olin selle raamatu ostnud, mitte laenutanud.
That’s the really sad thing. Many young talented writers must go from publisher to publisher begging for a chance, but if you’re famous enough – in any field – then you’re showered with book deals; it doesn't matter if you’re worth being published or not.
But I’m not another naïve and idealistic artist, after all I’ve studied Economics. So I know that it’s inevitable. And practical. Because the public buys it.
My favourite example of that is Miley Cyrus’ autobiography Miles to Go. (By the way, there’s no way she came up with the title herself. Just saying.) I haven’t read it so I don’t know, maybe she’s an amazing writer, and I’m sure she’s had a more interesting life than almost anyone else who’s her age, but come on – writing an autobiography at the age of 16! That shouldn’t count as real literature.
Moving on to something nicer…
I watched the Glee season finale last night. And found it rather satisfying. It was just so completely utterly… Glee. They even sang "Don’t Stop Believin'" again!
But I really hate how they butchered Jesse’s storyline. In the beginning he’s mysterious and dangerous and exciting, then there’s the predictable and lame “I actually care about her” moment, then in the next episode he’s suddenly the fucking Satan and then in the finale he doesn’t even get a line. (Seriously, writers?!) But fortunately he still went out with a bang. I loved his and Vocal Adrenaline’s "Bohemian Rhapsody". Even though the way they had matched the choreography with cuts to Quinn giving birth was slightly creepy. But so is childbirth, so I guess it worked.