And Now For Something Exactly The Same

The day after a for-real no-shit migraine, I always feel like the dregs of a milkshake: tepid, watery, and pillaged. I used to think migraines were fake. I mean, how could a headache be that bad? I got throbby, long headaches, sure, and sensitivity to light and sound, but nausea and death wishes with a headache? Sounded like the flu to me, or like a drama ploy. Yesterday's migraine was unlike any I've had since the first one I ever had (or at least the first one I ever recognized). I even took a pregnancy test just to make sure because this was so, so intense and awful. (Not pregnant. Just a for-real no-shit migraine.)


So yesterday as I was sitting on the couch just waiting to die, or possibly to start leaking brain tissue out my ears, I was reading one of the Sookie Stackhouse novels upon which the HBO show True Blood is based. (Oddly enough, reading doesn't bother me during a migraine.) (As long as I'm reading in silence and near-dark.) (Sitting upright so I don't yak onto the book.) As I've mentioned, I've been watching True Blood. In the last two weeks, I have read and re-read and re-re-re-read all eight of the books that have been published so far (of course, they're not exactly Thomas Pynchon) (and I do have antisocial inclinations, so plenty of time to read). The show is fun, but as is often the case, there's an extra layer of Special to the books because you get into all the secrets and details of these characters. The first season (which is over this week, OMFG) has been fairly faithful to the main character's storyline (and had to invent most of the secondary storylines, as the novels are narrated in the first person). The changes Alan Ball (American Beauty, Six Feet Under) has made so far have been, in my opinion, mostly for the better, or at least for the neutral. Fun books, fun series, you get the point.

There's just one change that sticks in my craw.

In the books, the main character is described as variously a size 8 or 10. She's 5'6", buxom and blonde. Men (or, more accurately, vampires and shapeshifters and werewolves and men) worship her. Anna Paquin is, how shall we say, rather pixie-like compared to the literary description of Sookie Stackhouse. Now, I have nothing against Anna Paquin. Aside from the fact that I think she's a good actor and I find her characterization of Sookie pretty spot-on, she's a celebrity with whom I have things in common, so I'd even say I am predisposed to like her better than most. But she is not buxom. She is certainly not a size 8, or 10, or even 6. She looks fantabulous, but it's quite refreshing to read the books and imagine these all-powerful beings drooling over an average-sized gal.

Sookie's not the only female character who's been downsized, of course. Pretty much the only female characters' curves left unwhittled are the black characters, which... isn't that always how it is? Well, guess what, TV casting hierarchy? WHITE CHICKS GET TO HAVE CURVES TOO. So go suck on a stake.

Excuse me while I nurse myself back to health with copious amounts of cheese and chocolate. Yeah. That sounds like a good plan.

1 comment:

  1. Yeah, I got nothin' to add. You said it all.

    My word verification code looks like "desist" with a "p" in the middle. Are you trying to tell me something?


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