listening:: "you spin me round (like a record)" - dope
Yes, I'm still on my One Pill Makes You Smaller obsession trip, and, being in such a state, found these reviews compelling for those of you who haven't read the book:
Set in the bell-bottomed, experimental 1970s, Lisa Dierbeck's debut novel, One Pill Makes You Smaller, features a smart, young protagonist on a long, strange trip. As if she consumed a cake marked "Eat Me," Alice Duncan feels monstrously tall for her age. At 11 years old she stands 5'7" and fully developed, and beautiful too. Alice wants people to notice her collage artwork, but seems only to attract the sort of attention she's too young to know what to do with.
Borrowing from Lewis Carroll's classic, Dierbeck sends Alice on a similarly startling and surreal journey--spooky and compelling and drug-filled like the Jefferson Airplane song based on the same book. Alice's parents are as absent as those in the original story, leaving her under the care of her coke-snorting teenage half-sister, Aunt Esme. The rabbit hole in this case is The Balthus Institute, a dilapidated summer camp in North Carolina where Aunt Esme sends Alice so she can pursue a rock star in Los Angeles. Upon arrival Alice discovers that Balthus is less an art institute than a mental institution, populated by a tiny assemblage of strange and threatening inhabitants. Arrogant twin sisters take the place of Tweedledum and Tweedledee, and the Cheshire Cat appears in the form of grinning J.D., a drug dealer and seducer who leads Alice down a dangerous path. By the end of her harrowing journey, not even a bottle marked "Drink Me" could bring back Alice's lost innocence. A convincing, disturbing read. --Brangien Davis
Channeling Alice in Wonderland (and, naturally, the 1970s Jefferson Airplane song, "White Rabbit"), Dierbeck shoots down the rabbit hole of '70s misbehavior with this psychedelic debut, crafting a weird and inspired paean to lost innocence. Eleven-year-old Alice Duncan is, in her own opinion, a freak: "a kid's head grafted on a woman's body." Hit on by her classmates (and their fathers), she is forced to fend for herself while her half-sister, Aunt Esme, experiments with all manner of pills and powders in their apartment on East 67th Street in New York City. Abandoned by her father, Dean, a once-respected artist who has checked himself into a mental institution, and her mother, Rain, now cavorting around Italy with her lover, Alice finds solace in her inventive collages of rock stars and pop icons, finally begging her father to come up with the money to send her to art camp for the summer. Esme, who wants to head for L.A. to be with rocker Crash Omaha, happily ships her off to an arts program at the Balthus Institute in Dodgson, N.C. (where "about ninety-eight percent of your acquaintances are going to be junkies. The other ten percent will be acid heads"). Alice lies about her age and falls in with a dangerous crowd, including Esme's primary drug supplier, J.D., a 30-something predator once dismissed from Columbia University, who deals her a dose of reality as he sees it and introduces her to words like "corrupt," "seduce" and "rape," which had never before been a part of her lexicon. This unsettling and disorienting-but also deliciously pop-account of deplorable actions and shattered innocence is a tour de force, a meshing of the myths of the counterculture with the fantastic universe of Lewis Carroll. It's a genuinely original, compulsively readable first novel, sure to stir up controversy. Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information, Inc.
Adult/High School-Alice, 11, weighted down with "The Breasts" she has prematurely developed, and abandoned by her parents, spends her summer making collages and munchie runs for her 16-year-old Aunt Esme and Esme's dope-smoking friends. When the teen decides to follow a man to L.A., Alice is packed off to "the Balthus Institute," a once-thriving art camp that now, in the 1970s, is more like a half-deserted art commune. A few jaded, thrillingly cool teenage students flop around campus, one or two professors show up from time to time, and the only person who pays much attention to Alice is J.D.-a 35-ish, rough-faced Cheshire cat of a man full of cosmic aphorisms and confusing vibes. Maintaining the illusion that she is as old as she looks, Alice soon finds herself in the midst of a slow, insidious seduction. Dierbeck is brilliant at capturing what it feels like to be a young girl looked at by an older man: a sense that one is powerful and in control; sort of disgusted by how predictable even an adult male can be; but also a bit intrigued by how far can she take things. J.D. is supremely, evilly frustrating as he convinces Alice that she is acting autonomously. Riveted female YAs will pass this loss-of-innocence tale from friend to friend urgently, and it will resonate with all who read it. Emily Lloyd, Prestwick House, Dover, DE
Ok I'm done.
I'm sure that, at first, it may be hard to relate to a beautiful, full-figured 11-year-old, because most of us reading this book are neither 11 or full-figured. (Well, I'm sure as hell not.) But, it really got me thinking: the state she's in - not quite child, not quite adult - is alot like how I feel in normal social situations. I feel older than and generally dislike people my age (including myself, so don't be offended ^_^), but I am much too young to have anything but small talk with most adults. So I can relate to her on that level. But also, since the book is a coming of age novel, I think alot of people can relate to it on *that* level.
And I'm so sad J.D. turned out to be pervy! But then again, I guess all 30-something drug dealers who take interest in pretty little girls are. *Sigh* Today's title is, of course, a quote from him once he starts being obviously pervy. Ew. ^_^
I just listened to "White Rabbit" by Jefferson Airplane, and it was pretty cool. I also watched the video for "Bitch," my favorite song by Dope, and the video is basically, um, porn, so be good horny teenagers and don't watch it, okay?
Good.
Oh yeah, I got my hair cut super-lesbian-short like I said I never would. I absolutely LOVE it! And, it seems, so did everyone else in the hair salon. It's crazy, it's like everytime I go to get my hair done and try something new everyone's always fawning over me (people I don't even fucking know!) and telling me how cute I look. And various other compliments. Not that I'm complaining. It's just kinda funny. And then I'm always obligated to say thank you repeatedly. But hey, if I have to fish for compliments somewhere, it might as well be the hair salon, right?