Relighting the Candle: The Legacy of Marilyn Monroe

Aug. 5, 2012 is the 50th anniversary of the death of Hollywood's most beloved blond, Marilyn Monroe. Half a century later, and we're still talking about her. From her gowns to her modest Hollywood home, Monroe items are popping up for auction. Stores like H&M continue to produce Monroe-inspired apparel. Conspiracy books and websites abound, and a documentary, titled Marilyn Monroe: Murder on Fifth Helena Drive, is due out this year.

Just like the late James Dean, the endless fascination with Monroe’s iconic status seems to overshadow who she was and what she accomplished during her short life. Kelleen Crawford, moderator of 1962, one of the largest online communities devoted to Monroe, is one fan who works tirelessly to preserve the memory of her idol's life.  

Crawford, whose smile and luminous complexion are reminiscent of Monroe herself, is an aspiring actress living in Hollywood. Originally from small-town Missouri, Crawford recalls watching classic movies with her stepmother as a four-year-old. Not fully understanding why, Crawford "gravitated" toward Monroe. Anxious to know more about the star, Crawford collected Monroe biographies before she was old enough to read them. Now 25, Crawford estimates that she has read close to 80 books about Monroe. "When reading about Marilyn, you have to be so careful," says Crawford. "Her name is such a great way to sell a book. Seventy-five per cent of the books out there on Marilyn won’t really have their facts straight at all."

Crawford is the go-to girl for Monroe trivia. A conversation with her debunks many Monroe myths. For instance, Crawford insists that Monroe was never "plus-sized." The footage of her where she appears curvier than usual during the filming of 1959's Some Like It Hot were taken when she was five months pregnant. She also finds it hard to believe all of the men who have claimed, in recent years, to have been intimate with Monroe. "If she had slept with all of those men, she’d have had time for little else," argues Crawford. "While most Marilyn fans know to disregard these types of tall tales, the average person might accept their story. And that’s really sad.

2011 Print Futures Graduates

The next great writers of the word will be unleashed on April 7.

We'll be unveiling our works of genius and standing around like dorks.
At least, I will be.

Live jazz, free food and cheap drinks.

And if that doesn't entice you, we're all really sexy too.

Check our our mugs.

And if you know anyone looking for a writer, editor, researcher or designer, I am definitely available.

A Room With A View: Writers' Rooms

As writers, we need a room of our own. Virginia Woolf said it so long ago, but it's still true. And for me, it's still as elusive as when I read those words as an undergrad. (Yes, I'm also still working on the whole independently wealthy bit.)

So until I finally get my "room," I moon over the rooms of others. Like Lorelei V's:

 According to her blog, it's half-way between Jane Austen and Tina Fey. But I think it's still lovelier than mine (which is NOT a room, but more like a corner).

Check out Michael Pollen's "room":

The man has taken the room out of the house entirely.

Roald Dalh has one that is similar (but not as pretty on the inside).

And then I think, why not make it even more removed. Like a room up a tree:

Here you would have to let down the ladder if you wanted anyone to come up. Which, of course, you wouldn't. And then they'd have to hike wearily back to the house.

A tree house appeals to me, also, because it would allow me to live out my whole Blue Lagoon fantasy (sans half-naked crush, of course.)

How about a tree globe?

No one would even know it was a room.

I Reviewed A Reviewer

I was recently recruited to compose a poem for a literary collection. But the guidelines pertained not to form or length, but to content. Acceptable submissions were to be light and/or humorous. Nothing dark or strange would suit. (I considered writing a poem about my cat. Of course, this didn't exactly work out, as everyone knows that cats are inherently dark and sinister creatures out to thwart you at every turn. What was I thinking?)

Eventually I had to admit that this was not a project I was cut out for. Was I not a light and happy person? Or is happiness in art overrated?

Jenn Farrell's latest collection of short stories, The Devil You Know, was reviewed by Clay Hemmerich of Concordia's student newspaper, The Link. Although Hemmerich admits that The Devil You Know is "written in irreproachable prose," he bases the bulk of his criticism on the fact that "the collection has very few moments of good humour." Hemmerich writes that after having read Farrell's work, he now "understand[s] the grim feeling of depression." "Pick it up if you want to feel down," he concludes.

Really? Is that the final word? Why isn't "irreproachable prose" enough to redeem the author of this book? Furthermore, is the fact that the book didn't make him feel happy even a relevant point of contention?

Both Dalhousie University and Queens University provide guidelines for writing a book review. Point of view, style, authority, character development, plot, and format are each considered worthy of a book reviewer's attention. It is the reviewer's responsibility to examine all of these areas for any signs of weakness. And in an age where it’s all been done before, originality is critical.

In order to provide a sound review, the reviewer must first read the entire book. This might go without saying for some. Others, like Hemmerich, perhaps have some difficulty with this component. In his review, Hemmerich comments only on the first story in Farrell's collection, calling it "morbid." Comments like "painstakingly insightful" and "fearless with the intimate details of her characters" are as close as Hemmerich comes to touching the other categories of a book review. And while "morbidity" is neither original or new, Hemmerich admits that he didn't understand depression before this book, so it must at least be new to him.

Upon close inspection, Hemmerich is guilty of the ultimate sin: bias. In his review of The Devil You Know, he fails to separate personal preference from his categorical assessment. This brings me back to my original qualm: what's so terrible about the perverse and the profane? Does happiness really make good art?

I don't know. But I do know that the degree of happiness (or unhappiness) should never dictate the final word on a piece of art. Remember what happened to Claude Tanner from Degrassi High? Amidst the humorous acts for the talent show auditions, the social misfit decided to recite a poem he had written. After listening to his descriptions of "autumn leaves, dying leaves/season of death" and laments for all that is "soothing, black and warm," the judges decided that Tanner's poem is "just a little depressing." Maybe if they had critiqued it for style rather than content, he wouldn't have killed himself. 

How's that for morbid?

Hole Lotta Love: First Publishing Credit

Have you ever Googled yourself? If I was really "cool," I wouldn't do it. But sometimes a girl can't help it.

I actually stumbled upon something I never expected to find: my first ever publishing credit, courtesy of Google Books.

When I was thirteen, I had a Spin Magazine subscription (because I was "cool"). Boy was I excited to get the October 1998 issue featuring my favourite band of all time: Hole. After devouring the article, I ripped out the photos, adding them to the collage of band photos plastered across my bedroom walls. After that, I wrote a letter. And guess what? They actually published it!

Reading it now, I'm a little embarrassed. I sound like one of those naive Kurt Cobain devotees, from the teenage cult of Nirvana. And I guess I was just that. I don't even listen to Nirvana anymore (unless I want to feel nostalgic).

I totally dissed Courtney Love in my letter. And while she's definitely not without things to be called out on, my criticism of her was unfair.

Sorry, Courtney.