Gamma Rules - With Al Sahwa 5

This is the fifth story by Al Sahwa School Seniors as part of this project. Below is a message from the authors, Al Maiyasa Al Jimhi, Hadeel Al Mahrooqi and Rawan Al Matani.

After several appliance letters and a long wait, my friends and I have finally been accepted at Syracuse University in Syracuse New York. Joanna, Kristen, Connie and I are more than thrilled to be finally going off to university together. Alas, our 'college life' will finally commence.

It felt unusual waking up so early after such a long lazy summer vacation, but the excitement made it very much effortless. After a rather quick ride of an hour and 20 minutes from Rochester to Syracuse, we reached campus. We tried so hard to tame ourselves, no one likes psyched freshmen. Traditionally, we had to join a certain sorority. My friends have begged and pleaded me to join them in their ultimate sorority of choice; Kappa Kappa Gamma. I obviously couldn't refuse, since we were all in this together, might as well be in the same sorority.

Kappa Kappa Gamma is one of the nation's largest and most well-known sororities. They are stereotyped for being attractive, rich snobs, but don't get me wrong there are also a whole lot of kappas who are awesome, fun-loving and great girls, just not enough to make me stay in that sorority. It was absurd. All members, including my friends were mesmerized by the bubble-gum wrapped world of the Kappa life. Our rules were preposterous and our senseless gatherings engaged heavy debates about whether slumber parties should be held on a weekend or our cumpulsory tanning sessions would be conformed to those who are dark skinned. I've never been surrounded by so many airheads in my life, and the worst part of it is that my friends have become infatuated with the whole idea. I could not recognize them anymore. But what had really disgusted me and forced me to leave was the continuous gossip I was hearing during my stay. It had revolted me, and was a major turn off. This wasn't for me and I wanted out.

I packed my bags and left very simply, no one noticed me anyway. During my walk around campus I encountered a group of girls sitting on a bench and couldn't help but over hear their conversation. They were discussing the new Gatsby movie starring Leonardo DiCaprio. One was dissing the whole movie and the other was defending it to the death. I eventually gave my own opinion on the movie, being favorable to the girl who liked it. Quickly, one conversation lead to another, and I ended up being invited to a new sorority; Delta Gamma.

Delta Gamma was like Kappa Kappa Gamma, but not on steroids. I got along with the girls there. They were intelligent, artistic and creative, every single one of them and I loved it. Until one incident that has drastically changed my view of this house. One of the members has put on a bit of weight, which I thought wasn't that big of a problem. The girl herself however was hysteric and when I had come to ask her of her anxiety, she told me that she now has to attend a diet centre during the upcoming holidays and loose all the weight she has put on. She further explained to me that one of the rules of this house was that no one should be above or under 100 pounds, regardless of their height. Because the number 100 resembles a perfect 10, therefore anything beneath or exceeding this figure is ugly. I could not believe it. These are even worse than the Kappas. I questioned the head girl about this, whom I've grown to be very good friends with, and she confirmed the rule. 

It was not long till it was my turn to oblige to this rule. I could not risk being allotted to Kappa Kappa Gamma again. The diet centre looked liked a sanatorium. It reeked of metal and medicine. It was awful. As I registered, they handed me a pile of seven books and a packet of mints. The books were presumably to kill time I'd spend in the centre. I didn't mind though, I liked books, and mints as well, although most patients neglected them, but made it easier for me to steal them. My days in the centre were bleak, tedious and lonesome. I could not bear this prison-like atmosphere. There was no way out of it. They do have a garden with fresh air, but still, it was diet centre air. 

One day as I was casually sitting in the lobby, observing all the patients and nurses entering and leaving rooms and going about their duties, a fellow came in. He did not wear white nor did he look like a doctor and he carried a pile of envelopes. It took me a while to figure out that it was the mail man. As he was leaving, I've noticed that the door that automatically gets locked, had not locked this time. I glanced at the registration desk and the nurse that usually sits there was not in sight. This was my chance. I ran to my room, gathered all my belongings, including the books I've collected throughout my stay and made a run for it. 

It was exhilarating! The cold air did not kill my excitement and I was now on cloud nine.  I was scurrying through the chilling streets of Brooklyn till it had become dark and was desperately asking for a ride from any stranger. One eventually stopped for me. It was an old woman. "What's a young girl like you doing in Brooklyn at this time?" she peculiarly asked. "Any girl from around here would've known that the night time is certainly not suitable for a young girl to be walking around!". "Ma'am, It's a long story, I'm not from around here, I need to get home may you please drop me off at the train station, wherever that is". The woman took me there and I was very grateful to her, however I had nothing decent to offer her other than a book. She declined my gift and said that she was merely 'helping a sister out'.

I took the next train to Rochester. Finally, I've found peace. My mom was certainly happy to see me although she also took pity on my unpleasant appearance. I've donated all the books I've collected on my journey to charity. I now attend Rochester University and have ditched all Gamma rules.

This story is based on Sindbad the Sailor's 4th voyage. This adaptation has a modern twist to it however is still parallel to the events that happen in the original version. 

Link to 4th Voyage: 

http://www.candlelightstories.com/2009/03/27/arabian-nights-the-fourth-voyage-of-sinbad-the-sailor/

The Friends and The Physics Lesson - With Al Sahwa 4

This is the fourth story by Al Sahwa School Seniors as part of this project. Below is a message from the authors, Reem Al Lawati,  Mulki Al Jimhi and Maryam Saif

School is like a zoo, with its cage-like classes and its wide range and diversity of species. You’ve got the “jocks”, the ”nerds”, the “Goths”, the “pretty girls” and the plain “cool guys”.  Johnny Oxford, is your typical “nerd”. With his pimply face and his shorts waist high, still keeping the suspender trend alive. It was a normal day at school. Oxford would already be at the physics lesson prepared to hear another lecture from the teacher. Students would walk in chatting, laughing and eager to start the lesson. Everyone except Domenic. Domenic is the “cool guy” that never really cared about attending his classes. Especially physics. What makes Donny even cooler is that regardless of the vast amount of times he’s bunked the physics class, he still remains supreme and never gets caught by school authority. His admiring classmates praise him and soon gave him the nickname, The Don. Donny has been Oxford’s friend for a while now. No one knows why or how that ever happened, but with time they have learnt to accept it. Oxford has always envied Donny for so long. He’s envied the ease he’s always in and the bliss of not attending a physics lesson.

One day they both decided to meet after school in Don's House. "Why do you always skip physics, Donny?" said Oxford wondering. "What’s the matter Ox-man? You know how much I hate physics, I hate Lenz’s stupid laws and all that stuff, besides, I like chilling.” Don replied. He went on telling Oxford the great amount of fun he misses when he goes to the coffee shop across the street. He also rambles on about his great skills in climbing the school walls. “Aren’t you worried about the exams?” said Oxford. “Why would I be? I’ll casually bunk that as well.”

When Oxford went back home he was thinking about what Donny told him regarding the physics lesson. He also wanted to experience the leisure and the ecstasy of skipping a boring lesson like physics. He made his decision. The next time he sees Donny, he’ll tell him that he’d like to join him on his beautiful journey. The next morning, before the flag ceremony to commence, he, with pride and joy, told Donny that he’d be skipping the physics lesson with him.  Physics was the fifth lesson and before that, they decided to meet at the gym bathrooms.

The bell rang. Oxford successfully reached the gym just as he was told, with that great feeling of accomplishment, looking forward to the other side of that tall depressing wall. The wall that separates the boys from the men. Donny made his way to the gym. Suddenly his physics teacher saw him and said smiling, "Hello Domenic, nice seeing you again!" everyone in the hall had their jaws wide open. The Don couldn’t believe that his teacher saw him. Traumatised, he became conscious of the fact that he would be attending the physics lesson, something he hasn’t done for years.

Meanwhile Oxford was waiting in the bathroom hall. He began to panic. Donny took longer than usual. He decided to climb the school wall by himself, assuming that Donny would already be there. He made it to the other side and as soon as he landed his feet on the non-school ground, he received a text from Donny.

“Ox-man, I got caught. I’m in class. They called your parents asking about you, and your parents ensured them that you were at school. I heard them say that you’ll be suspended if you don’t come to the lesson. You better hurry!”

Oxford ran. Ran like he never thought his skinny legs would be able to. The thought of being expelled was like death to him. Oh how he regretted it! He slammed the door open and entered the class, looking like he was attacked by a group of monkeys. The teacher broke into laughter, and so did everybody else. He patted him on the back and said “ever heard the saying: Look before you leap?” handing him his copy of The Fable of the Donkey, the Ox and the Farmer. “It’s my favourite.”

Our story is a modern parallel adaptation of Shahrazad’s tale “The Fable of the Donkey, the Ox and the Farmer”. It is a funny and more relatable twist of the original story.  You can read the original here http://markturner.org/lmx.html .We would love to hear your feedback and your literary comments about our story.

The Beast - With Al Sahwa 3

This is the third story by Al Sahwa School Seniors as part of this project. Below is a message from the authors, Bushra Al Shahri, Ikram Al Lawati and Hebba Al Kindi.

It was about time for a new adventure, that's what I thought about when I first stepped into my friend's Leela private jet, 4 people, and an unknown destination. I was hoping for something more like "eat, pray, love" but I never knew what was coming. As we were flying somewhere over the pacific, the plane suddenly started shaking; we were crashing. The pilot then quickly opened the door of the plane; "everyone grabs a life jacket and JUMP into the water" he yelled. As soon as I jumped out of plane and plunged back to the surface, I started looking for my fellow friends, but no one was there. I waited and waited but nothing happened. Suddenly I saw seagulls fly in one direction and I knew there was land nearby. So I swam and swam and until I found it: HEAVEN. It was a beautiful tropical island. I was roaming around looking for food and clean water when suddenly I saw a toddler. What was a toddler doing in an isolated island? Perhaps it wasn't isolated at all, I thought to myself.

The toddler started crying so I approached him trying to calm him down, I didn't want his parents –if they even existed – to think that I've had harmed him in any way. So I started playing with him and I decided to give him a piggy back. My back was sore, and when I came to lower him to the ground, suddenly the weight grew heavier on my shoulders. "I AM NOT A HUMAN TODDLER YOU FOOL, I AM A LEPRCHAUN AND I HEARBY MAKE YOU MY PERSONAL SLAVE”. I was shocked, a leprechaun in a tropical island, he knew what I was thinking. "I know what you're thinking, leprechauns are supposed to be white and Irish, but guess what there are black leprechauns too”. I replied "Aren't you supposed to be nice then, I thought leprechauns were at least nice, you see I wouldn't mind working for a nice leprechaun who'd pay me in pots of gold”. He yelled “shut up you fool, after all the discrimination I've been through I don't want to be nice to anyone, especially your kind of people." I yelled back: oh so you think I am racist just because I am white huh? Well guess what I AM SINDY BED AND I AM NOT A RACIST. A powerful blow hit my head, and it was all dark. When I woke up the leprechaun tortured me, I had to carry him all around and he wouldn't let go of me. He made me steal pots of gold from him and he discharged his marshmallow filth upon me. I was tired and my back really started to ache.

One day when he was asleep, I stumbled upon a very particular kind of fungus, the "shrooms". I knew this very well, since I had to prepare an assignment on hallucinates. I sliced pieces of the shrooms and hid it in his food, when he ate it he grip loosened and I was free to go. I took advantage of his state of mind and dragged him by the river side, I plunged his head in the water and I whispered goodbye you beast.

“If you are interested in reading an adapted story of Sindbad’s 5th voyage, please read this but also comment about it.”

Link of the real story: http://www.wollamshram.ca/1001/Dixon/dixon01_13.html"

Escaping Revel - With Al Sahwa 1

This is the first story will be posting by Al Sahwa Schools Seniors as part of a project I introduced here.

It is written by Muna Al Wahaibi, Isra Al Kindi and Noaf Al Bulooshi. Please comment your thoughts about it below, and share it if you so feel.

Uncle came home one night, to our little run-down dwelling in the slums, looking exceptionally pale and out of sorts. I asked him what was wrong, hoping he wouldn't say that he'd been out gambling again. He looked up at me nervously and I could see guilt in his eyes.

"What have you done?" I questioned, my irritation rising at me Uncle's incompetence. Ever since my parent's death five years ago I've been living with Uncle Palo, but his irresponsible behavior can drive a person mad. It was like I was his guardian and not the other way around. If he's not drinking, then he's gambling. He squanders all the money we ever raise and then borrows money to gamble more, which has pulled us knee-deep in debt. "I'm sorry, Laura" he replied, "I took a loan from Revel and his men." "You wouldn't!" I cried hysterically, "Even you wouldn't do something so dumb." Uncle simply looked away. "You know that's playing with fire. Now you've done it Uncle. You've stuck your hand in the devil's mouth." "It was only a little," he reasoned, "I didn't know he would-" "Don't lie to yourself! You did know!" I interrupted, "Everyone knows that you can't win with Revel. Where will you get the money from? How are you going to pull your hand out without having it bitten off?" "That's easy," he replied, not meeting my eyes, "I'll give the devil something else to chew on." I looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?" I asked, but he didn't reply. From behind Uncle Palo entered the infamous Revel and his gang. I froze in fear. "Is this her?" Revel asked Uncle. Uncle gulped and nodded. "Take her," Revel ordered his men and they moved towards me. I could see what was going on now. "No, no, let me go!" I yelled as they grabbed my arms. "Uncle, don't let them take me away!" Tears rolled down Uncle's cheeks as they dragged me forcefully out of the room. "Uncle Palo!" I called out to him again and again, but he still didn't move. He betrayed me to protect himself. I could feel anger boiling up inside of me along with the overwhelming fear.

Revel and his men took me to their base, a several-story building hiding in plain sight at the end of the slum. Everyone knows where these rotten thieves live and their crimes, but no one can do anything about them. Anyone who tries is labeled dead before Revel even kills him, which he does. One of the men took me to the kitchen, a place as rotten as them, obviously unkempt. He shackled my feet together with a long chain, so I wouldn't run away. "This place is to be clean by sunrise," he instructed before leaving and locking the door behind him. I sat down and cried miserably for hours before hauling myself up onto my feet and getting to work. As I scrubbed the grease off of the counter-tops, I resolved that I will run away no matter what. I will escape this torture even if takes me years to do so. I managed to get the kitchen relatively presentable by dawn, but I was completely exhausted. As I put my head down on the hard ground to get some shut eye, however, the door unlocked and the same man from yesterday came in. He studied the kitchen but said no word of approval. "Starting today, you'll bring up breakfast and some drinks to the boss's room on the third floor," he ordered. I dragged myself up onto my feet and got to work. He watched me as I prepared breakfast on a tray and then placed the bottle and a few cups next to it. I followed him up, my chains clinking as I walked up the stairs. He showed me into a room where the men where gambling around a table. Revel was cleaning his gun while watching television. I placed the tray in front of him. He didn't give me a second glance. The man then shooed me out and closed the door. I started descending when I realized that this was my chance to escape. There was no one to stop me. I hurried down as fast as the chain would allow. I tripped in my excitement, but hurriedly pulled myself up and continued on. I could see the door now. I was blinded with joy and I didn't see the men guarding it until it was too late. "Where do you think you're going?" they asked as they pushed me down. "I'm sure Boss would like to have a word with you." I tried to wrestle my way out as they dragged me back up the stairs, but it was no use. They pushed me to my knees in front of Revel. He gave me a bored look and clicked his tongue. I was eyeing his gun fearfully. He pressed my face painfully into the ground with his shoe. I wondered tearfully what they were going to do to me. To my surprise, they unlocked my chains and removed them. A second later, however, they shackled me again. This time, the chain was much shorter than the first time. I could hardly walk, let alone run away. They threw me in the kitchen again and locked the door behind me. I cried myself to sleep. Days turned to weeks as I served them breakfast and drinks every morning and cleaned the kitchen every night. I noticed that even when Revel goes out, he does not take all his men. There was always someone guarding the door. I couldn't take it anymore. I took my chances and climbed out the window in the stairwell one day after I had delivered Revel's breakfast. The windows in the kitchen were barred, so I couldn't use those. I fell painfully to the ground beneath then quickly got up and tiptoed away. I could already taste freedom when a yell sounded from behind me. I had been spotted. I tried to run, but my chains wouldn't allow it. I was captured and my chains were shortened once again. Now I had trouble climbing the stairs from how short the chain was. I decided there was no way I could escape the way this was going. The more I tried to run, the harder Revel's grip gets around me. My ankles ached from the constant chaffing of the chains. I had to think of some other way to escape. One day, a few weeks later, Revel and his men came back late at night yelling and laughing joyfully. I wondered what was going on when one of them came into the kitchen. "Bring up all the drink's we've got!" he ordered with a smile plastered on his face, "Tonight we celebrate our greatest victory!" I thought fast as soon as the door closed behind him. This was my chance to escape. I loaded a tray with drinks and another with cups and carried one in each hand. I waddled up the stairs and placed the drinks on the table. Before I re-entered the kitchen, I noticed that the front door was left unguarded. The men were probably all celebrating upstairs. I didn't take the bait, however. I decided to wait for the perfect chance, to make sure I was not going to be captured again. The voices of the men that sounded down to the kitchen were obviously drunk by midnight, but I waited even more. It was a few hours before sunset when I grabbed a bread roll and some water and tiptoed out of the kitchen. I kept my eyes peeled and listened out carefully as I snuck out the door and into the cool night air. I didn't relax until my feet were aching from the walk and Revel's hideout was completely out of view. I drank some of the water and stowed the rest, along with the bread, for later consumption. Now that I was out, I didn't know where to go. I certainly could not go home, that's the first place they'll look when they notice that I've escaped. However, if I stay out on the streets I would certainly die of starvation. I walked for days, sustained by whatever I could find. People didn't give me a second glance since they were in the same state I was in. One day, I was sitting by a fence, waiting for death, when a man came up to me and asked me what had happened. I told him my story and he exclaimed in astonishment. He told me that I was the first to escape Revel's evil grasp. He took me to the police station where they removed my chains and listened to my story in awe. Finally, they decided that something had to be done about Revel. They gave me a place to stay, in an orphanage far away from the slum, away from Revel and his men. A few weeks later, I heard that Revel and his men had finally been arrested and had been sentenced to jail for give or take twenty-five years. I slept well-assured for many nights before turning eighteen and finding myself a nice job at an orchard, where I could make a living picking apples. I never saw Uncle Palo, Revel or any of his men again.

With Al Sahwa

When I started this blog I set out to post at least 3 times a month but that has proven to be incredibly hard during the semester. I told myself I would make the time to post and not use "I don't have the time" as an excuse. And I'm sticking to that. I do have the time. There are little wholes in my schedule where I have nothing to do. What I lack however, is the energy. Writing isn't easy and I don't have the energy to gather random thoughts and string them into legible sentences. So, when one of my favorite high-school teachers told me about this project I was ecstatic.

What it means for you, dear reader, is that you will get to read things on this webpage of mine. What it means for me, is that I have to do none of the work.

Over the next few days I will post stories by Senior students from my beloved Sahwa Schools. This is an assignment where they have to modernize (right up my ally) Arabian tales and get people to respond to them. Part of the project is that they have to respond to comments on their stories, so we would appreciate it very much if you dropped a line after reading (even if anonymously).

So keep coming back here for the stories and don't forget to comment, share and just get a conversation started.

With The Edge of Nowhere - A Book Review

The Edge of Nowhere, written by Elizabeth George is about Becca King, a young woman on the run from her abusive father. Now what sets this aside from what I usually review is that there is a fantastical element to it; Becca can hear people's thoughts.

I have to start off by saying that I don't like supernatural stories. I avoid them and when I do read one I rarely ever finish it. But because of the overwhelming abundance of bookstores in this country, I couldn't find anything else to read. So here I am, doing something I thought I would never do, I'm reviewing a supernatural novel.

Now, the first thing I noticed about this story is that most of the characters are painfully 1 dimensional; including the protagonist. The only character I was impressed by was Seth, a 19-year-old drop-out with learning disabilities. I feel like he is the only character who genuinely had depth and grew throughout the plot. The second is that although there are fantastical elements, they made no real impact on plot progression. So, despite my predisposition away from Fantasy I actually liked the plot in this one. Because unlike in others I have read before, the supernatural bore no real influence on the story. The plot would've been more or less the same without her "ability". It truly was refreshing to read a fantastical YA where the fantasy doesn't take over.

Now, this book is the first in a series, but I don’t think I'll read the rest of them just yet. There was nothing exceptional about it and I'm just not invested enough in the characters to follow them further.

With Teachers

All through my childhood and early teenagehood I wanted to be a teacher. Because to the influenceable little me being a teacher seemed like the greatest job ever. Teachers knew everything! They were neat and grown up. They had their powerful red pens- I was enchanted by red pens. I longed for a time when I had such an all-powerful tool- a tool that gave words and calculations worth. My sisters and I would sit around old newspapers or textbooks with a rich red pen, making nonsensical markings around random words and numbers, pretending we were marking; impressed by the color and the authority it brought with it.

Even now, that I am all "grown up", I get a rush when I'm asked to explain something. I feel slightly smug when I'm given a pen to explain a calculation, I stand a little taller when I'm speaking to crowd. Because a part of me still wants to teach. A part of me still wants to mold a generation. Perhaps I am romanticizing the notion, I do have a habit of being biased towards my role-models. But nevertheless, I admire the transfer of knowledge. I admire the imposer of knowledge.

It saddens me to now see teachers being gradually stripped of their proverbial red pen. Slowly teachers are losing their luster, so to speak. I seldom meet a child who wants to be a teacher. Even though I could swear that was the norm in my childhood. Slowly teachers are losing their authoritative position in the community. Their red pen no longer makes that much of an impact. They are depicted as the butt of jokes by the media and dismissive parents alike. And I say it is about time we give teachers their authority back. I say we don't dismiss their requests. I say that a generation that has lost respect for teachers is a dangerous generation. (Although, arguably, I can't point out why.)

Now I don't know the point in time that teachers started losing this respect, and I can't say whether or not they had a hand in it, but I do know that our community is capable of rectifying this, for our own sake. So just stop with the hate, show your children that you respect teachers as well, and give teachers their red pen back.

With Modern Adaptation Web Series - 2

It is now Fall and the promised adaption of Emma by Jane Austen is currently airing. (If you don't know what that is I posted about it here). And boy is it marvelous. You can really see the effect of larger budget and audience on the series. After the Emmy-winning LBD came to an end the producers at Pemberly Digital (It is an actual company now, although owned by John Green and Bernie Su and not the fictional William Darcy) promised a larger series and they're certainly delivering with obviously higher production costs and more Transmedia.

 From the get-go they managed to put me off Emma Woodhouse. A Beauty guru and lifestyle expert "documenting her greatness for future achievements". Emma's inflated ego drives me up the walls but we don't have to like the character to like the show. And I do like the show. Besides, I wasn't a fan of the Emma in the book either.

If you read my earlier blog post, you would have seen that I had some reservations. And I still have them. I wish they would've gone for a bolder book; not just a typical novel that is sure to please their targeted demographic. Perhaps experiment with a different author. Nevertheless, the series is nice. Go ahead, watch the first episode.

Although it has an obviously smaller budget and production team, I like The Autobiography of Jane Eyre more than Emma Approved. The Autobiography of Jane Eyre is closer to home. The characters are far more realistic, the development makes sense. In short, it is less of a chick flick. To be honest, the credit to most of this belongs not to the producers of the series, but to Charlotte Bronte, the original  author.  But I take off my proverbial hat to the producers of AOJE, they did good! And you can see that for yourselves here:

There is another major modern adaptation Web-Series going on right now; The Nick Carraway Chronicles. An adaptation of The Great Gatsby. Now this is a series I do not like. I stopped watching it a few weeks ago because frankly; they can't act. I took the poor acting in the first few episodes as realistic jitters, but it hasn't approved much since. Besides that, I don't feel like they put enough effort into modernizing the plot. It isn't as witty as I would like it to be. No sly references or winks or sarcasm. It's just bland.

Check out all of the above series and tell me what you think. Perhaps you can recommend others to me.

With How to Be Good – A Book Review

This is the third book I read by Nick Hornby. And ironically-or conveniently - enough this is the first of his books that I like. The book is narrated by a 30-something year old woman who is tired of her grumpy husband, and wishes he would change. Or that the marriage would end.  And her husband does change but she soon resents his new found moral code as she was used to being the "good" one.

Hornby has such a magical way of writing even the mundane events into interesting plot points and this is what got me through his other books. This one is certainly no exception. The book is short and sweet, there are no complications in the plot, no unnecessarily complex flash backs. Everything just flows nicely.
But what makes this book my Hornby-Favorite is that the characters are so incredibly relatable and complex. Their relationship grew and progressed in such a charming way I could barely keep my eyes clear.  Frankly, I became genuinely invested in their lives. I wanted to know what happens. Their behavior was consistent, justified, in-character… so to speak. They felt like real characters and that is very rare! The story felt like it was real. Beyond any doubt these are events that could genuinely happen. No happy-sappy or melodrama.

All this just makes the downfall of this book all the more irritating; there is no resolution. When I was reading the last page I kept desperately thinking "come on, drop dead, set the house on fire, go crazy, something, anything" but no. The words ended but the story didn't. That’s the only way I can explain it. And I guess it makes sense. Since these characters exist, this is only a chunk of their lives. There is no resolution and a neatly packed ending tied-up-in-string, because there never is one in reality. Events keep on going, and life keeps on happening.

But I really want resolution. I want to make sure the characters are alright. I want to make sure they find themselves, and fall back in love with each other.  Hornby managed to create a friendship between these characters and myself but I'm not allowed to see how they turned out. I can't call or text or drop in, because he didn't finish their story. The words ended but their story didn't, like reality, and realty sucks.

With The Twitter Diaries - A Book Review

I have to be honest. The only reason I bought this book is because I thought it would be interesting to review. Written by Georgie Thompson and Imogene Lloyd Webber in the form of tweets. Yes. The entire books is written in the form of 140-character-messages between the two protagonists. Stella designs shoes for men while Tuesday, is a daytime-TV reporter. Although they are in different continents they become close over twitter and bond through their DM's.

There's usually an air of inconsistency in books that are co-authored and this book is definitely not an exception. The plot is weak at best and generally gave me no chance to relate to the characters. But perhaps this is expected from a light "chick-flick-book" ( I'm sure there is a better name for those) there is no denying that it is a fast read. That is, of course , if you plow through it. The story contains all the shallow humor and dry wit that is expected of chick-flicks. Along with the unrealistic catharsis and character improvement.

Now I love Twitter. But reading a story form through tweets is annoying.. and having characters defined only as ambiguous handles like @AllThatGlittersIsGold at times, and unrealistic ones like @mum at others can really take its toll on ones sanity.  There's also the oh-so-subtle allusion in the number of Twitter followers. The character gains followers in the high of the plot, and loses followers in the lows.

I wouldn't read this book again and I don't think I will recommend it to anyone. Unless they want a really light read for a plane ride or something.

With Logos Hope

The largest floating book fair, Logos Hope is currently parked in the Sultan Qaboos Port in Mutrah. Logos Hope is a German Ship that is operated by a christian charitable foundation. The ship is continuously travelling from port to port selling books. Logos Hope will be in Muscat until the 7th of October; open from 2pm to 10pm.

The event is really well organized- Because they can't accommodate for cars in the port, you park in a designated parking lot, and then ride a bus to the ship. A ticket costs 300 bz for anyone over the age of 12, and free for anyone below. The staff on the ship are really friendly. They come from all over the world, and they all seem to want to get to know our culture. I had some really interesting conversations with a few of the crew members.

Now, The Logos Hope is run by a christian organization, so you do feel a kind of religious vibe to it, but they try to accommodate for our culture by having closed areas for women and men.

I must say that the collection of books wasn't impressive at all. I haven't heard of any of the titles in the best-sellers and there are quite a lot of Bibles. I did however manage to buy a few books from the classics section- Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde by R.L Stevenson and Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens. I also got a book called Under the Covers and Between the Sheets, which gives a kind of behind-the-scenes of classical books and characters. I will be posting a review of the latter soon, as I have a lot to say about it.

The children's books section is quite nice though. There is a whole section for Enid Blyton and a few Arabic books. I got a few of these for my brother.

On the 6th there will be a time for ladies only on the ship. I recommend you find the time to visit it, if only to see what it is like. 

With Grammar

Grammar fascinates me, as does anything else that gives science and structure to seemingly non-quantifiable things like literature and art. English grammar is especially interesting. Because of the various origins of the language there are hardly any set-in-stone-rules regarding spelling and sentence structure. So grammaticians come along and try to build a decent language structure from this debris of Greek and Latin. And they have come up with some pretty cool things.

An acronym for instance, is different that an initialism. They are both the collective first letters of a phrase or title. However, while you can pronounce an acronym like "NASA" and "LASER" you can't pronounce an initialism, like "CNN". (The abbreviation of Al Sahwa Schools should by nature be an initialism).

Acronyms and initialisms are when we turn sentences into words. What about the other way round? Well, that's called a backronym. No joke. SOS, for example doesn't actually stand for anything. But is often taken to mean "Save Our Souls", "Save Our Ship" or "Someone Over Shoulder".

And speaking of jokes, a while back a few people tried turning sarcasm into a part of speech. They proposed the use of a "percontation point", a reversed question mark, at the end of a sentence that is meant to have a hidden or sarcastic notion. Thankfully this was never implemented and a majority of the world is still in the dark regarding half of written literature. Can you imagine having to point out every tongue-in-cheek remark and satirical statement to the general public? Yikes. I will however, start using a reversed question mark on social media sites when I don't want what I'm saying to be taken seriously. 

With Banned Books

This week is Banned Books Week! A week where we get to look at all the books that have been deemed unfit for society. And maybe break a few rules. 

The idea of censoring knowledge has been around since the beginning of time, seen as the pinnacle of totalitarianism in both fiction and reality. Despite all that, you would be surprised at the sheer amount of banned books, and the lame reasons for banning them. 

Now I understand that there are inappropriate books, and books that should be censored, but, for instance, the dictionary? yup, the dictionary was banned for explicit content. George Orwell's 1984 was banned by the Soviet Union because Stalin felt it was mocking him (well if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck...). The adventures of Huckelberry Finn by Mark Twain was banned because it features crude words like "sweat" and "itched";  along with the "n-word" (which to be fair was common back then). Harry Potter was banned in private schools in the UAE and in Iran because it promotes magic. And that's just a few! Check out this wiki list of banned books.

That's of course not to say that I'm completely against banning , I just believe censorship should be better managed. For example I cannot fathom how shades of Gray is allowed on our shelves, while most political books are banned.

To celebrate this week I'm reading a book that I've been wanting to read for ages: Lord of The Flies. Which was apparently deemed too vulgar for shelves at one point! So, come one, live on the edge! Pick up a "banned" book and see where it will take you. 

With The Gift of The Magi - A Short Story

The Gift of The Magi is a short story written by O. Henry in the early 20th century telling the story of a married couple that don't have enough money to buy each other Christmas gifts. I would recommend this story to anyone who wants to read English stories but doesn't know where to start, or anyone who wants an easy, short, story to warm their hearts. Frankly, I would recommend this story to everyone, whether or not they enjoy reading. As a matter of fact, here you go: Read it now before proceeding to the rest of this post: (it's super short, so don't worry; you won't be gone long)

http://www.online-literature.com/donne/1014/

Now that you've read it (I hope you did), wipe away your inevitable tears and lets look at it a little bit more closely. Della and Jim both essentially want the same thing. They want to make each other happy. Unfortunately though, neither of them have much money, and it is almost Christmas. 

In my opinion, the child-like innocence of both characters and the unwavering love they have for each other makes this story slightly unrealistic, but the moral of selfless gift-giving remains, as well as the masterful and simple narrative.

And before you pass this off as another story with an unfortunate ending remember that although Jim can't get his watch back; at least Della's hair will grow and she will be able to wear the combs.

Perhaps one could read more into the theme of this story and morals that aren't initially apparent, but the story is beautiful as it is, and forcing metaphors wouldn't do us any good.

Tell me what you thought of this light read. shed some light on things I may have missed. Lets get a discussion going!

With Bathos

My favorite quote (from a novel) of all time, and I know many people would find it weird, is not your traditional inspirational quote. It's not a quote about love. It's not a quote that will lift your spirits, or make you wonder about the meaning of life…

It’s a quote that is well written.

The moment I read this line, something in me clicked. I couldn't move on to the next sentence, I just kept reading it over and over again.  The ships hung in the sky in much the same way that bricks don’t.

The beauty of this line isn't in what it tells you, but rather in what it doesn't. The line, in and of itself is redundant. It does not actually describe anything. And I find that utterly fascinating.

The ships hung in the sky

This part would suffice, but even this doesn't tell you anything new. All space ships are in the sky  (it is  a sci-fi novel).  And if you're in the sky, you're not falling.

In much the same way that bricks don't

Brilliant!  We know from the first part, that the ships aren't falling. And YET they are compared to bricks (which generally do nothing in the sky but fall). 

You know the most magnificent part? This is not how similes work. In a simile, we use words to highlight the similarities between two things.

"Calculus is like a pebble in my shoe"

Here, we are highlighting the fact that Calculus is making me uncomfortable. Hindering my ability to walk long distances or, move forward with my education (all true)

But this simile does nothing of the sort. It does not highlight the similarities between two things. It does not help in explaining the state of the first. It does not even provide any useful imagery, nothing. 

After reading the sentence we are not any wiser as to what the ships are like…  

The exact literary term is Bathos. It is when a seemingly serious and useful sentence ends in a plain and mundane way; creating this beautiful, satirical line.

In my opinion bathos mock the whole institution of literature. They mock the whole belief that sentences should in the very least, mean something.  They are probably one of my favorite literary techniques ever.

With Alif The Unseen- A Book Review

Alif the Unseen was published in 2012 by G. Willow Wilson. Maria Suggested this book for me, check out her awesome blog here!  It tells the story of an Arab-Indian Hacker in an unnamed Arab country (geographically around Iran, but reads like an oil-rich GCC country) as he finds himself in trouble with his totalitarian government. So he flees to the most unlikely ally, the Jinn.

Reviewing this book is difficult; while reading it, I loved it. I couldn't put it down. But afterwards, thinking back, I am able to punch holes in the whole thing. While reading I considered giving it 5 stars. Now, I'm not so sure.

There's no denying that this book is beautifully written; with mesmerizing imagery that got me completely engrossed in their world and invested in every character. The plot is fast paced and kept me hooked throughout the book.

However, the first half  blatantly adopts plot points from George Orwell's 1984 though I guess that's acceptable since there's only so much you can do with a rebellion-against-a-totalitarian-government story.

The mixture of  folklore, religion, science and politics seems like an interesting combination, and potentially could be; except that Wilson over-simplified each aspect so that it became a non-cohesive cocktail. It's true that she seems to know about Islam, but missed out on the point that magic is an abomination of Islam. Arab politics is only portrayed in black and white, good and evil, while politics in general is usually several shades of grey.  And as to the greatest miss-step of all, she butchered the science aspect completely. It is obvious from the begging that the narrator knows nothing about computers or technology. It is just a truck load of "technobable" with random techy words thrown in, like linux, C++, RAM.  

Perhaps all these downfalls are because of the sheer number of plot points. Maybe if the plot had been cut down a bit, there would be more realistic plot progression and character development.

Yet on the other hand, these things didn't bother me while I was reading. I was so absorbed into their world that I didn't see any fault in it; except for the fact that the plot seemed to drag on a bit longer than it should.

So maybe I'm just too fussy, read the book and see for yourself, maybe even share your opinion with me.

With The Marlowe Papers- A Book Review

The Marlowe Papers, published by Ros Barber as part of her PhD is a collection of poems written in blank verse depicting the story of Christopher Marlowe.

Christopher Marlowe, is a *real* English author, poet, and translator from the 16th century. It is said that Marlowe was a great inspiration to Shakespeare. The premise of this book, however, is that William Shakespeare is Marlowe's pen-name, as Marlowe was a spy, wanted for treason, so he fled, faked his death and changed his name.

To start off I was excited, a novel in verse, I thought, a nice long poem. Except I soon realized that the Iambic Pentameter is not the most pleasant of meters. And that keeping the verse sometimes meant losing meaning and depth. While reading, my instinct was to read to the beat of the meter. But that meant that normal punctuation went out the window. Sentences broke in wrong places and merged, just to keep the meter up.  On the other hand, when I upheld the rules of English punctuation I found traces of systematic rhythm that I couldn't ignore. Perhaps I am not sophisticated, or smart enough for this style, but I found myself at loss as to how to read, that I found it hard to comprehend what I'm reading. However there are a few poems where punctuation and meter were in sync and I could truly appreciate the beauty of the verse.

The plot, like most Elizabethan novels, features themes of identity of betrayal that seem, to a modern me, incredibly vulgar. Kit Marlowe was a victim of his own beliefs, or lack thereof. As a renown atheist, he was persecuted for treason so he changed his name and started writing under a pen name, William Shakespeare. However, Marlowe didn't like this brand new life, and longed for his former life and friends. The whole book is a collection of letters, addressed to (from what I understood) the love of his life.

It is worth mentioning that while reading this book my thoughts were all in the Iambic Pentameter-which I despise. So I felt I was going to go crazy if I don't cleanse my thoughts.

The plot is nice, but I'm not sure the whole verse thing was the best of ideas. In general the book is okay. The idea is exciting but perhaps not the most interesting.

With a Book Blogger Hop

Although this is a relatively new blog, I feel like I should be more involved in book-blogger-activities, and get immersed in the community. After doing so, I ran into Ramblings of  a Coffee Addicted Writer, a pretty neat book blog. They hold this Book Blogger Hop where book bloggers answer a certain question, and post a link to their answer on their blog. This way, book bloggers get to find new blogs around the internets. If this tickles your fancy at all, head over to their blog and get to know them.

The question of the week is:

Were you a born bookworm or somebody got you into the habit of reading? 

I guess the question here is basically whether reading is an intrinsic habit of mine, or whether it was instilled in me by someone else. And I have to say, I'm not exactly sure. I was definitely encouraged to read a lot as a child; my family bought me books that gradually grew larger and heavier, and many of my teachers gave me extra books out of the curriculum. This isn't to say that everyone supported my reading. I remember this one teacher gave us a book that we were meant to read throughout the entire semester-I believe it was an abridged version of Around The World In 80 Days. Anyways, I read it in one night, and came to her the next day asking her for a new one. She wasn't thrilled. My parents also instilled a book ban for a couple months because my reading had interfered with my studies and social life. So I was encouraged and discouraged to read growing up. 

At the same time, I remember getting excited whenever I enter a library as a child. How Chip, Biff and Kipper were never enough for me. It was a raw, innate need to dive into the world of books.

So who's to say I wouldn't have become a bookworm without support despite my natural tendencies  And who's to say that my tendency to read wasn't planted in me by someone else. In the end I'm extremely grateful for every factor that went into how I am today.

With Solar – A Book Review

Solar by Ian McEwan isn't the most remarkable book. It follows the life of the fictional Nobel-prize-winning physicist Michael Beard from the end of his fifth marriage, to the beginning of his sixth and seventh. Yes... Sixth and seventh simultaneously.  

It is apparent from the beginning that Beard isn't the most balanced of people. Even though he came up with the Beard-Einstein-Convergence he is a slave to his cravings, a compulsive eater and a pathological womanizer.

Despite the overwhelming amount of research that went into this book, Ian failed to convince me that the protagonist is all that smart. The manner in which the book passes over the research and effort required to come up with a theory in physics as if it is a peripheral, secondary part of Beard's life, and the way the author just throws random "big important scientific words" into the text put me off. However the story did make some really interesting arguments about global warming and gender inequality that I couldn't help but make notes about.

The book is also unnecessarily long. There are parts where the plot just stops progressing. So at times it was painful to read. I don't think I will be reading it again. 

The ending is also pretty lacking, as we don't get the catharsis we expect. 

With Ubuntu Edge

This isn't my usual post, but it's something I feel strongly about, and would like to support. Ubuntu is the most popular, open source operating system in the world, and is frankly, the best one I have used. (If only Adobe would offer their products for Ubuntu, I would abandon this hunk-a-junk called Windows.)

The fact that the OS is open source, means that you have the liberty to develop, optimize and experiment with it as you please. along with the simple user interface is one of Ubuntu's greatest attributes, the OS is so light you can instal it in less than 20 minutes, and have your device dual-boot between your OS's as you please. In general, its a pretty neat company, with a great policy.

And in keeping with their usual quality, they are developing a phone. I could never do this device justice, so I'll let their own promotional video speak for them.

Can we just take a moment to admire the beauty of the phone?

All I want to do is raise awareness of this project, and help support Ubuntu. They have an Indigogo page where they plan to crowd-source the funds to make this phone. If you are interested click here. And if you do decide to support them, besides the knowledge that you helped the next generation of technology, you get an awesome phone. So if you can, spread the word on this device, and help them out.

Also, if you would like to try Ubuntu OS out for yourself, you can get the file here, and this will help you out with the steps.

With Emma Approved

The creators of The Lizzie Bennet Diaries and Welcome to Sanditon have just announced the name of their next major adaptation: Emma Approved. An adaptation of the critically acclaimed novel, Emma by Jane Austen. They haven't said much about it, other than that it will be a vlog-like web series, expected some time this Fall, with all the elements of transmedia that we have grown to love: website, twitter, instagram, facebook, tumblr, youtube.

There is no doubt in my mind that it will be a well thought of engaging series, after all, this is Hank Green and Bernie Su we are talking about. And the LBD fan base, known as The Seahorses, seems to be ecstatic. However, I was hoping they would veer out of their comfort zone and go for a different type of novel. After an adaptation of Pride and Prejudice AND Sanditon by Jane Austen, I was expecting a slightly different genre. As great as Jane Austen is, I feel like they should move on to more substantial novels.

However, I understand that given the familiarity of the story and the constraints of public domain novels that are relatable to the 21st century, Emma is a pretty safe choice.

I'm excited to hear more about this series and to see what they will do with it.

Till then, check out these fan-made LBD-style modern adaptations of Emma: here and here

With Politics and Culture

           A while ago my sisters and I were having a political discussion (or the semblance of a political discussion a few teenagers can muster) and the conversation lead to me mentioning the Taliban, upon which the conversation came to a halt. Because, to my surprise, my sisters didn't know what the Taliban was. We proceeded on a tangent of me explaining the history of Afghanistan and the Taliban, but the conversation never quite left my mind. Not because of the depressing state of the region, but because I  knew who the Taliban are. I  knew, and my sisters didn’t. I didn't understand how it could be so. My sisters and I are subjected to the same culture. How is it that I am more politically aware than they are?

      I retraced my thought process and tried to remember where I had first heard about the Taliban. Turns out I had only heard about them in passing before the summer of 2009; the summer I read A Thousand Splendid Suns and The Kite Runner, by Khaled Hosseini. After reading them, I was so intrigued by the politics of Afghanistan that I took to Google. And surely enough, a few wiki pages later and I had learned all about the region, from the fall of the Soviet Union, to the US ambush.

            That might seem like a trivial meaningless ramble by a teenager who reads way too much into things. But that isn't entirely true. There are two things that could be taken from this anecdote of sheltered teens: One is that books are useful. Yeah, yeah, we know. But the point is, books are more useful than they seem. Not only do they allow you to read up on things you find interesting, but they introduce you to things that might interest you. Take as an example the aforementioned books. I had originally felt guilty for reading them because they are melodramatic pieces of fiction more akin to an Indian movie than to educational texts. Yet they educated me on politics better than any news agency ever had. They allowed me to realize that I want to learn about the world around me.

            Second of all: I still remember! 4 years later, I still remember what I had read on the Taliban. And given my memory that is nothing short of a miracle. Except it isn’t. This is the amazing thing about education and the human brain in general; if you want to learn something you will remember it forever. If you make the effort, on your own accord, to learn something, you will rarely ever forget it.*

             So to sum things up: Read all the things to learn all the things.

*Birthdays and names are not subject to this rule.

With The French Lieutenant's Woman by John Fowles- A book review

I bought this book from the Family Bookshop in MQ, and although it took me over a month to finish, I enjoyed every page.

The French Lieutenant's Woman is a novel set in the late 1800's and written in the 1960's by John Fowles, with possibly the most emotionally intriguing protagonist ever. It centers on Charles Smithson, as he ploughs through his engagement to the bland Ernestina Freeman. He meets the eponymous Sarah Woodruff; an eccentric, enigmatic woman who right away intrigues him as she challenges social conformity and more astonishingly, his intellect. But Sarah's reputation precedes her- she is frowned upon by the town for her questionable past.

The plot starts off plain and slow paced, but what kept me going is the eccentricity of the narrator. And I am glad I kept going; because this is a book that has certainly made a mark on me. Fowles writes what I can only assume is himself into the book as an omniscient narrator. At the same time, he manages to integrate himself into the story as a character. At one point he is in a train, staring at Charles, and at others he describes himself as he is looking through their windows, or following them on the street!

The characters are written with so much depth and authenticity that one starts to doubt their existence, every character, that is, except for the protagonist. Sara is only described as Charles sees her: clouded by the society's image of her at times, and by his emotions towards her at others.

Psychoanalysts would have a field day with Sarah. Several times in the book she is compared to sadistic sociopaths of her time. Yet there remains an air of mystery around her behavior. One thing remains certain though; she doesn't want to fit in. She kept the façade of a sinner throughout the plot just to be shunned from society.

Charles is a paleontologist and a Darwinist. So we find that he is often at loss between his science and the religious beliefs of his time. And this is perhaps one of the most prominent themes in the book. There rarely passes a story arc without an argument about natural selection and evolution. At one point, Darwin's On the Origins of Species is even used, in lieu of a bible, to swear upon, shedding the light on the driving force of modernism: an acceptance of science that does not follow the established beliefs. 

Plot aside, the most valuable thing offered by this book is an objective look at the Victorian era as a whole. The epilogue to every chapter is a poem, article, saying or anecdote from the era that provide an insight to the behavior of the characters at times, and to the society as a whole at others. Fowles also dedicates a few chapters to the comparison between the main characters and modern characters. The book is also riddled with footnotes further explaining the Victorian mindset.  

If the Victorian era intrigues you as it does me, then this is a book you cannot miss. Fowles' knowledge of it is comparable to one who had lived it. And I will most certainly read it several more times just to get lost in its depths.

With Modern Adaptation Web Series

The Lizzie Bennet Diaries

Arguably the most popular of these modern adaptations as of yet (and my personal favorite). Developed by Hank Green (John Green's Brother, together they make the vlogbrothers). This is a modern take on Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. A fascinating thing about this one, as is the case with most adaptations, is the way the characters are written into the modern world. Lizzie is a grad student, Bingley (now called Bing Lee) is a med student and Richard Collins (Ricky Collins) is a childhood friend turned entrepreneur…
The series is written in the form of a vlog of Lizzie's life- as if the events are happening in real time, unravelling in 3-minute videos, twice a week; as well as in 3 spin-off vlogs; for Lydia, Georgiana, and Maria Lu(cas).
As to the best part of the series- the way they brought each character to life. Every character has a Twitter, Tumblr, Pinterest and YouTube account, so if you had the pleasure of watching the show "live," as I did, you were able to follow the characters' lives through these accounts, and get a more genuine experience.  Although the show is now over, the episodes are still up on YouTube and their website has an archive of all the transmedia posts. They are also selling a disk-set with extra behind the scenes, outtakes and interviews etc.
After the indisputable success of LBD, the creators promised another major series, but until then they give us this:

Welcome to Sanditon

Based on an unfinished novel by Jane Austen, Gigi (yes, Georgiana Darcy) moves to Sanditon, a small, coastal town in California and reports as the town develops into a resort destination. With an episode every Monday and Thursday, they take character integration to whole new level. You see, because they have essentially created a whole town from scratch, they allow fans to become "town citizens," so you will find a frankly overwhelming amount of fan-made companies and events held in Sanditon. As well as a collage vlog of the town people about once a week.
Although the progression of Welcome to Sanditon seems slower than LBD because of all the fan integration, it is still increasingly fun to see the line between viewer and creator essentially blurred out to create a community in a virtual town called Sanditon, with several different storylines.  As if you yourself live in Sanditon (which you arguably do.) So it is still worth watching, if not as relentlessly as LBD.

The Autobiography of Jane Eyre

Obviously an adaptation of Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë, is another LBD-style web series where the main character is vlogging out her life.  Created by Nessa Aref and Alysson Hall (she also plays Jane.)
Jane is a nursing  graduate working as a nanny/tutor for E.D Rochester's daughter, Adele. Jane says in her first vlog that she was inspired to start vlogging by LIZZIE BENNET. Although the series starts off slightly rough, it picks up quick and is pretty engaging. Because it has a lower budget than LBD, the Autobiography of Jane Eyre seems more authentic, and one could almost genuinely believe it is a vlog.  The story arc of Jane Eyre also seems to be progressing much quicker than Welcome to Sanditon, so there's another plus.

Keeping in line with LBD, transmedia is also used to aid storytelling Jane, Adele and a few other characters have Twitter, Tumblr and Instagram accounts, which you'll find on their website, so you can follow the events LIVE. As if we needed more distractions from the real world.

Nick Carraway Chronicles

A brand new series, with 1 episode out; and promises of a new one every Monday. It is a modern adaptation of The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald, produced by Bryan Stewart and Nicholas Butler. The series is basically the personal vlog of Nick Carraway, an unemployed trust-fund kid who graduated with a degree in finance. Now I obviously can't say much about this, other than that they seem to have a pretty good budget and I'm expecting a great adaptation after the hype they managed to create.  Of course, every character has a twitter account which you can find link to in the video description.
There are also a plethora of Youtubers making low-budget modern adaptations à la LBD style, check them out here.

Check these series out, and tell me what you think on Twitter, or in the comments (anonymously or not.)