Knock Me for a Loop: Post 5

Row 4: With Friends Like These…

(Posts for the foreseeable future may be a bit brief and slapdash. Proofreading? Revision? What are those!? Sincere apologies—it’s been a heck of a few months and the Commissioner is digging her way out of them.)

The text chooses not to answer the All Important Question of whether or not Grace went to the hospital to see Zack, instead jumping to one month later. Zack is at home, using a wheelchair, and moping. He considers his giant television, which he bought in order to cover up a hole left by Grace’s whirlwind of destruction* and the fact that he misses his dog (whose name was apparently originally Bruiser.)

*Apparently, the hole in the wall was left by Grace throwing a hockey trophy through it.

He’d come home to find the ass end hanging in the air like the minuscule hockey player had gotten stuck during some botched escape attempt (51).

I include this quote as an example of the author just trying too damn hard. Because I read that and assume that it’s supposed to be funny, but all I can think about is how a trophy is highly unlikely to stick that way into a wall, and even if it did, it’s not the hockey player’s ass that you’d really notice since the rest of the trophy, which is much larger, would have to be hanging down below it. It just makes no sense.

Whatever. So, in the past month, Zack has been knitting, but now when there’s a knock at the door he quickly shoves his current project (blankets for the local VA hospital) between the couch cushions because “[k]nitting was a private hobby” (52).

If the media found out, it would be a public relations nightmare. His fellow Rockets would rib him endlessly, call him a pussy, a pansy, a eunuch, and worse. His fans would probably do the same, as well as losing respect for him and going so far as booing him when he skated onto the ice (52).

Remember how in Her Man Advantage Axel (the hero) was so afraid people might find out about his background as a member of a Helsinki biker gang and also fear it would lose him endorsements and such? And my point was that that’s so incredibly spinnable—look where this athlete came from, isn’t it amazing? I kind of feel like this is the polar opposite (knitting instead of biker gang-ing) but with the same general likely outcome, which is to say generally positive in the media. It’d be a one-day fluff piece during a slow news week for his team and maybe end up as a piece of trivia on the jumbotron during a game. (Like when Paul Bissonnette had his Lulumonunderwear stolen from the practice rink’s locker room.)

I mean, I can’t speak for other hockey players and how they might call Zack “a eunuch, and worse” (although honestly I don’t think ‘eunuch’ is the first, or even third, insult that comes to most people’s minds these days) because I suppose they might… but given how much time is spent talking about the tight knit spirit necessary in the locker room, I don’t think it’s necessarily a given.

Plus, knitting is having a resurgence, and while it is absolutely still female dominated, there are well-known male knitters, including Russell Crowe.

AND there’s even precedent. Goalie Jacques Plante (known as the first goalie to wear a face mask) apparently would knit all sorts of things, including his owntoques to wear under his helmet.

And while I don’t know if any current NHLers who knit, I wouldn’t be surprised if there are some.

(Actually, what came to mind was Zenon Konopka and his pet rabbit, Hoppy, for whom he has jerseys made for each team that Konopka plays on. Do you think he gets called a eunuch because he has an effeminate seeming pet?) 

Would YOU call this man a eunuch?

In the time it takes for whoever is at the door to get to his living room, Zack thinks about the game in which he got injured. I’ll spare you the details—partly because I’m writing this at 2am—but he starts by thinking it was his fault because he’d been distracted in the six months since Grace left him and then three paragraphs later he thinks about how amazing he’d been playing that game, “blocking shot after shot” until “something had just gone … wrong” (53 ellipsis original.) While the text doesn’t talk about memory loss as a symptom of his concussion (which he has and which gives him headaches, even now a month on, which is definitely worrisome), I’d say that this textual suggestion (presumably unintentional by the author) of memory loss worries me… Okay, not really. Because fictional characters.

Then he thinks about his other secret hobby (still in the time it takes for his guests to get from front door to living room), which is watching soap operas. (One of said soap operas is Guiding Light, which was cancelled, according to Wikipedia, in 2009. So apparently Zack is also time traveling?)

Gage and Dylan finally get to the living room and their first question is to ask “Don’t you ever get out of this damn thing?” about the wheelchair, which seems rather insensitive since Zack still has a cast on his leg.

The friends are only there to berate Zack for sulking and for not going to physical therapy. Zack has blown off all of his appointments, in part because there were “no guarantees that he’d ever play hockey again” (56). That seems pretty reasonable. I mean, yeah, obviously Zack should be going to PT but it’s understandable how a pro athlete (or really anyone, but especially an athlete) might fall into despair and depression after a concussion and the news that he might never play again. But Gage and Dylan think that the answer is to tell him that they aren’t going to be his friends anymore until he starts to shape up. Sometimes you have to cut ties with someone who has depression for your own mental and emotional well-being, but these guys are totally full of BS if they think that doing so will actually help Zack.

And this isn’t some hinting around from these characters—it’s full on ultimatum.

“That’s it,” Gage bit out, pushing to his feet. “I’m done with this shit. Sit there and mope. Feel sorry for yourself. Crawl into a hole and hide from life. Whatever” (57).

And then a bit later, after Gage has actually “stomped off”, Dylan agrees.

“And I think Gage may be right—until you get your head on straight, figure out whether you want your life back or you want to sit here feeling sorry for yourself… I don’t think we can come around anymore. You really are on your own” (58).

Clearly Gage and Dylan are not exactly the stick-by-you thick-and-thin help-a-friend-when-he’s-down types.  What jerks, frankly.

In addition, why are Gage and Dylan the only ones coming by? Dylan is a reporter and Gage is… I have no idea (if I knew, I’ve already forgotten.) Where are the teammates? For that matter, wouldn’t you think that the NHL would have people coming by to check on Zack? People to badger him into going to his doctor and physical therapy appointments because I would think that would be, essentially, part of his damned contract? That’s just a guess on my part… and if I were writing a novel about hockey players, particularly one wherein a vast portion of the plot depended on the recovery route of a main character, I’d do some freakin’ research. 

(NOTE: I'm not ignoring comments, I promise. I'm just ... in a weird place and having gotten responding to them yet. But I LIVE for comments, so don't let this stop you from making them. Now, Blogger is apparently keeping people from commenting, which suuuuuucks, but I appreciate when you get them through.) 

Play the Man: Post 18

Chapter Eleven: FINALLY, geez.

This scene takes place a few days later, and apparently the Caravaggio painting is still a major sticking point between Jenna and Ryan. He still has zero interest in seeing it, even briefly to make Jenna happy, and she “didn’t think it was supposed to be that much of a sacrifice if he loved her” (71). I have to agree here. Personally, I’ve done more for people I like a lot less than one is supposed to like one’s fiancé.

She was also waiting for a sign to know if it was time to simply call it quits, label this a lesson learned, and move on (71).

The narrative is unclear as to whether the above pondering is about calling it quits on this particularly disagreement or the whole relationship. If the latter? YES. YES, IT’S TIME TO CALL IT QUITS. OMG, YES. And that has nothing to do with going for Nick instead; it has everything to do with being a whole person who respects herself, good grief.

The Caravaggio is one of Jesus revealing himself to two disciples and the narrative tries to make a connection between this and Jenna’s own need of revelation.

…she wished that someone would appear to her and point her in the right direction, tell her if it was worth it to try and stick it out with Ryan or end it (71).

Oh trust me, Jenna, if I could appear to you, I would happily do so, shouting all the while to “END IT.” Sadly, I can’t even end this book as there’s nearly 100 pages left in it.

Meanwhile, we learn that Nick has been reevaluated for his concussion and apparently while he’s improving, he still needs someone around, so he’s still staying with Jenna and Ryan. Oh that real-world concussions were so plot convenient! (I know some people who have gotten very nasty concussions from hockey and were not required to have someone around all the time. And these were concussions that were bad enough to keep them from playing for months. Nick is expected to be back on the ice in another week or so, but he still needs constant care? I call shenanigans.)

In fact, the text itself seems unclear as to how Nick is feeling. He’s well enough that he’s the one attending this museum trip with Jenna, which proves awkward when they run into Jenna’s art-friend Katie, who assumes that he must be Ryan. Because the point of view jumps around all the time, we know learn that this mistaken identity causes him irritation. Yet a page later, we’re told that his concussions symptoms have passed (so why does he need someone around other than plot reasons?) and that he’s “back to his old self—controlled and calm” (73). Irritation at a logical mistaken identity doesn’t sound controlled and calm to me.

And his calm doesn’t show up later, either. The two of them get home to Jenna (and Ryan)’s house and she’s annoyed that Ryan is out, without leaving a message. Nick flips out.

“Stop it, Jenna! I can’t just sit by and watch this anymore” (74).

Um. This is out of character from what we’ve been told, even if not so much what we’ve seen. And it’s a really weird reaction. This is where Nick flips? Because Ryan inconsiderately didn’t leave a note? So many other things have occurred in this book that Nick could have gotten angry about.

Jenna assumes that Nick is upset that he’s been put in the middle—his friendship with Jenna versus being Ryan’s teammate. He clarifies that Jenna deserves better than how Ryan has been treating her. Jenna finally asks what she does deserve.

His hockey instincts took over and his body reacted. He closed the distance between them and pressed his lips against hers (74).

I… don’t recall ever seeing anyone play hockey and kiss someone during a game. I don’t see how kissing can be a hockey instinct. I mean, there was that one time Steve Ott leaned over during a face-off and licked Jeff Halpern’s visor.  So, I mean, anything is possible. (Seriously.Licked his visor.) Okay, I know, I know, the author doesn’t mean that kissing is a hockey instinct, but what she does mean is very unclear.

One thing leads to another, which includes “filling the void that had been left within her” (74) (not a euphemism!) and they silently have sex. Jenna doesn’t want to say his name in the bed she shares with Ryan. I’m not sure what Nick’s reasoning is. The description of the sex goes on for several pages, whereas it basically fades to black whenever Jenna is with Ryan, so you know that Nick must be the one for her. Also, they climax simultaneously, which is always a romance novel sign.

The chapter ends on a cliffhanger—as the two of them are still in bed, albeit staring at the ceiling, they hear the front door open. So I shall leave this post here on a cliffhanger as well. 

Stay tuned—will Ryan discover the couple in flagrante delecto? Will Jenna finally end things with Ryan or keep telling herself he’s worth it?

Play the Man: Post 15

Chapter Ten: I Never Expected to Use the Academia Tag So Often

To Ryan’s credit, he doesn’t shirk his duty or complain when it’s his turn to awaken Nick. The patient, however, at first thinks it’s Jenna who’s come to wake him and invites the intruder into his bed. Sorry slash-fans, his response when he realizes it’s Ryan is “Ew, you’re fucking gross, Biggie. What the hell are you doing here?” because he’s forgotten again that he’s not in his own apartment (64).

Ryan suggests they play cards but changes his tune when Nick says he’d been playing strip poker with Jenna. Instead, they go and play Call of Duty on the Xbox. No, no, no, no, no. That’s a TERRIBLE idea for someone with a concussion. Dammit, that would be the last thing any decent doctor would allow. Gah.

Before, however, they can adjourn to the living room and the tv, Ryan insists that Nick put on pants because there’s no way he’ll allow nearly-naked Nick to sit on his couch. Weird.

This is more or less a throwaway scene that lets Ryan know that Nick has a lady friend of some sort (he assumes this when Nick is mostly out of it and suggesting that someone (Jenna) get in bed.)

The next morning, Jenna gets up as usual and does all her morning chores, including making breakfast, but “[t]oday, she had two growing boys to feed” (65). Could that be any more disgustingly motherly? The mothering imagery continues in the narratives description of what Jenna will be doing that day, instead of her usual Thursday activities.

She was supposed to keep an eye on [Nick]; it was going to be perfect practice for when there were kids roaming underfoot (65).

Which would be fine if Nick weren’t being set up to be her romantic partner. I’m all for being motherly if that’s what floats your boat, but to mother your fiancé is kinda gross, particularly since she’s expected to cook for them.

Ryan takes exception to the fact that Jenna cooked both bacon and sausage, since she doesn’t normally on a weekday and says he’d rather she was cooking it for him instead of Nick. Good grief, dude. She already cooks all your meals, gets your groceries, cleans the house, goes to all of your home games, and works with the Blackhawks charity events. You’re miffed because she cooked a little extra since you have an injured houseguest who is also your teammate? I cannot stand this guy.

And my hatred of Ryan gets stronger when Jenna goes through the mail and finds a notice about the Art Institute featuring a borrowed Caravaggio painting. (I’ll have more to say about that in a moment). Jenna asks Ryan to take her to see it, suggesting that they make an evening of it since they spend so little time together. His response?

He groaned. “You know I don’t like art, babe.” … “It’s art. You know I don’t get it” (66 emphasis original).

She’s not even suggesting that they roam the halls of the museum together—she wants to see one single painting and have dinner out. When she points out that she’s supportive of him and that she’s “not asking [him] to… even pretend to care” (66 emphasis original), he accuses her of guilting him into going.

I don’t condone violence in real life. In fiction, however, I hope someone slams Ryan’s head into the ice next game.

Ryan won’t talk about art, but for a moment I will. Well, sort of. First, I think it’s very odd that Jenna finds out about this exhibition of the Caravaggio through the mail since it’s occurring at the very place she goes to graduate school. I’d be shocked if one of her professors didn’t mention it in the classroom or she didn’t hear it from a classmate. And if she didn’t, I’d be triply shocked that she didn’t get an email about the exhibit, something mass-mailed to all the students. Getting the notice in the mail is a convenient way to shoehorn the information into the story at the right time for Jenna to bring it up with Ryan, but it was hardly necessary and not very likely.

Second, upon getting the notice, the narrative explores Jenna’s reaction.

Although she was focusing her studies on more modern art, she loved the Baroque period as well. This was a great opportunity, and she had to go (66 emphasis original).

My last art history class was more than a decade ago, I must admit. But I’m dreadfully confused by the above. The Baroque period started around 1600 in Italy, which I’d say is still broadly considered the Renaissance, or just after. (The Renaissance, of course, didn’t start one day and all of Europe flowered.) Jenna’s comment that she’s focusing on more modern art doesn’t necessarily mean modern art, just something more modern than Baroque, which, fair enough. But 40 pages earlier, as she had lunch with Ryan before he went off to play the Oilers, and he barely listened to her, she said the following.

“…I’m so excited for this semester’s class. Surrealism is so much fun. I mean, it’s not my favorite art movement, I appreciate the realism of Renaissance so much more, but still, I can’t wait. Picasso! Miro! Chagall! Oh, you know how much I love Chagall” (24).

I find it very odd that in the above passage she’s contrasting surrealism (not her favorite movement) to the Renaissance; she doesn’t say that *is* her favorite, but it’s suggested. Yet now Jenna is saying she’s actually focusing on more modern art. Perhaps someone with more art history experience than I can chime in about whether I’m right to find this weird. Baroque is certainly distinct from Renaissance (in some ways), but the latter is not more modern. I suppose it’s possible the author meant that Jenna is focusing on more modern art (ie surrealism) *this semester* but that’s not at all how graduate students talk about their work.

Anyway, the “pressure” from his fiancée wanting him to go out with her to see a single painting and then have dinner is too much for Ryan and he storms out of the house to go to practice, leaving Jenna, Nick, and way too much food.